Ghosting (12 page)

I look down

and see

blood

pooling up between

her toes,

covering the straps of

her silvery sandals.

Then comes

the scream,

and we all

freeze.

What the . . .
Brendan breathes, clutching his gun tighter.

Jesus,
Felix says, dropping my hand.
Emma . . .

Felix is out the door,

so fast

it’s like he

disappeared.

Then Emma

is running

toward us.

She is pointing Felix

back toward

the car.

We need to get out of here,
she says.
Now.

Chloe tumbles past me

to the backseat,

next to Anil.

Felix slams his door shut,

sliding into the seat next to me.

His eyes are fixed on

Emma.

Go, Brendan,
Emma says, voice urgent.

Then she spots the

gun

in his hand.

What the hell?
she says, eyes wide.

But Brendan doesn’t let go of

the gun.

He turns on the engine,

puts the car into drive,

and

accelerates.

Then he deliberately

sticks his hand

up through the open moonroof—

a parting shot.

So loud my hearing goes

dim again.

Emma, her face livid with rage,

knocks

the gun

out of his hand.

It clatters to the floor,

at my feet.

Without even thinking

I kick it under my seat.

A few seconds later,

a horrible,

terrifying,

catastrophic

answer:

loud popping noises

coming from the house.

Then more.

Louder!

Like the sound of

fireworks.

Behind me,

or beside Felix,

it’s hard to tell,

comes the sound of

glass

shattering.

And, right after that,

in front of me,

the windshield suddenly is

blurred, cracked.

Felix lets out

a soft grunt,

almost like

a sigh.

Brendan is weaving,

swearing.

Then Emma screams.

Stop the car! It’s
Faith
.

Faith?

How could Faith be

here??

FAITH

I smell:

new mown grass

the sweet perfume of flowers,

roses, I think.

I see:

cemetery gates

and down the block

Brendan’s SUV,

idling.

I hear:

the steady drone of cicadas

then a few muffled popping noises

something breaking

a car door slamming

a scream

more popping, louder and closer,

much closer.

I feel:

the handlebars of my bike tilt

the sidewalk rushing up at me

pain, unexpected

overwhelming

I taste:

blood in my mouth

MAXIE

Emma yells again at Brendan.

STOP THE CAR!

But it’s like he

hasn’t heard.

Emma opens her door

anyway,

jumps out,

while it’s still

moving,

fast!

I watch her fall,

hard,

onto the sidewalk.

Then she’s up,

tries to stand,

but her right leg

collapses

beneath her,

and she is on the ground.

Once again

she rises,

teetering on her left leg,

hopping back toward

the ghost house.

Brendan, stop!
I shout.

He jams on the brake.

Tires squeal

and we’re all jerked

forward.

I look back.

Emma has stopped

and is leaning over

something lying

on the ground.

Brendan wrenches open his car door

and stumbles out into

the street.

Felix,
I start, turning toward him.

But Felix is slumped forward,

the seat belt the only thing

holding him up.

With an icy jolt of horror

I see

blood

dripping

into

his lap.

ANIL

1.
Chloe, beside me,

crying.

Wiping the blood

from her foot with Kleenex.

A lot of blood

so I’m thinking it

must be a bad cut,

maybe needs stitches,

and I lean toward her

to see if I can help.

2.
Then the window beside Felix

splinters,

and the front windshield

is suddenly a spiderweb of cracks.

I look at Maxie, her face in profile,

and it is dead white,

her eyes wide with shock.

Felix,
she whispers, reaching toward him.

I see the blood then

on Felix’s headrest,

and, without thinking,

I’m beside him.

3.
Gaping wound,

on the side of his head,

where his right eye

was.

Feel for a pulse.

It’s there.

Thin and thready,

but there.

Call 911,
I say to Maxie.
Now.

I tear off my shirt.

Wad it up. Gently press it

against the wound.

Felix groans.

Looking into his other eye,

I see immense pain.

Sorry, Felix. Hang in there,
I say, trying to keep my voice calm, reassuring.

4.
Maxie’s hands are shaking,

but she’s got 911 on the line.

Someone’s hurt. Shot, I think,
she says, her voice surprisingly steady.

Can hear the crackle

of an answering voice.

Near Walnut Creek Cemetery,
Maxie says.

McKinley Road . . . In the head . . . Might be more than one person . . .

She’s looking out the window

at Emma, who is crouched

beside a still figure

sprawled on the sidewalk.

Hurry please,
Maxie says.

Chloe hovers beside me.

Can I help?

Hold this,
I say.

And without hesitating,

Chloe puts her hand where I guide it,

to the wadded-up shirt

quickly filling up

with blood.

5.
Gently I begin lowering the back

of Felix’s seat.

I’ve got to go to Emma,
Maxie says.
They want to know . . .

No, Maxie,
I say, urgent,
a shooter’s out there.

I know,
she says.
But it’s Faith.

She squeezes by, out of the car,

and disappears.

MAXIE

I spot the bike first,

the front tire

blown out,

spokes bent

and twisted.

Faith is lying half under it,

Emma bent

over her.

Faith! Faith, can you hear me?
Emma is saying.

Faith’s eyes are closed.

There’s

blood

on her face,

and more,

a lot more,

on the leg that’s pinned

at an awkward angle,

under the bike.

Brendan is beside Emma,

his body taut,

alert.

She was awake, talking to me,
Emma is saying to Brendan,
and then she just sort of stopped, and her eyes closed . . .

We need to get the bike off her,
Brendan says.

There is no trace of

slurring

in his words.

And in one easy movement

he lifts the bicycle off

Faith,

as if it’s no heavier than

a feather.

Then he turns back to

Emma.

Emma,
he says,
get back to the car. You, too,
he adds, looking in my direction.

The drunken, slack-mouthed

evil Brendan

is gone.

In a matter of moments,

he has changed into

the lacrosse team captain.

Strong.

In charge.

I turn to go back to the SUV.

But Emma isn’t moving,

focused only on

her sister.

I think I feel a pulse,
she says.
But there’s so much blood . . .

I’ll stay with her. Go back to the car,
Brendan repeats.

Emma shakes her head,

refusing to leave.

I notice she is holding something

tightly in her hand.

Something dark,

covered with

blood.

It looks like

a toy.

Brendan crouches down,

beside Emma,

looking her straight in the eye.

Despite the faint ringing

still in my ears,

I can hear

every word.

There’s someone with a gun, at the ghost house,
he says deliberately.
You and Maxie need to get back to the car.

No,
is all Emma says.

An ambulance is on the way,
Brendan says.

And it’s then that I notice

the sound of

sirens

in the distance.

Emma stays where she is.

Faith, you’re gonna be all right. I’m here,
she says.

Brendan looks at me,

his face

dead serious,

and makes a gesture

with his hand

toward the SUV.

I go,

but looking behind me,

I see Brendan,

with that same easy strength

lifting Emma

into his arms.

She flails against him,

though it’s clear that her own

right leg is

badly hurt.

Suddenly she jerks so hard

he can’t hold her,

and she’s

on the ground,

then up again,

hopping on her good leg

back to Faith.

EMMA

I am squeezing the rubber crow,

Polly’s favorite chew toy,

tight in my hand.

It’s smeared with blood, Faith’s blood.

Oh please God,

let Faith be okay.

BRENDAN

I start to follow Emma,

then hear Anil calling out to me.

Brendan, watch out,
is what I hear.

I spin toward the ghost house and see

the figure of a man moving toward us.

Or maybe it’s a boy.

With a rifle in his hands.

Emma,
I call instinctively, to warn her.

She turns, then freezes,

staring at the figure holding the rifle.

She raises her hand,

the one holding the bloody crow,

As if to fend off

what’s about to happen.

I see the rifle go up,

pointing straight at Emma.

And I move.

MAXIE

I watch as

Brendan collides with Emma,

knocking her off her feet.

And at the very same second

that their bodies meet,

one last shot rings out,

splitting the night

wide open.

AFTER

Sunday, August 29, 1:05 a.m.

POLICE CHIEF AUBREY DELAFIELD

Even before I answer

the phone, I know.

I don’t know how I know,

but I do.

Something has happened,

something big, something life-changing.

And not in a good way.

I arrive on McKinley Road two seconds behind

the first ambulance.

I say first because it was clear

from the initial 911 call

that we were gonna need more than one.

A lot more.

MAXIE

I keep telling them

I’m not hurt,

that it’s not

blood

on my shirt,

it’s

MoonBuzz.

Then I realize.

It
is

blood.

Felix’s

blood.

A man with pale eyelashes

is talking to me,

his voice calm.

I’m not hurt,
I keep saying.

Finally he looks me

in the eye

and says softly,

You’re in shock.

Which shuts me up.

Because,

yes,

that’s exactly what

I am.

In shock.

And likely to remain that way

for a

long,

long

time.

CHLOE

“Blood and Sandals”

Sitting on the curb,

I have this weird

peaceful drowsy feeling,

even though my foot throbs like

my beating heart has slid down into it,

and blood is pooling

under my sandal.

A lot of blood.

(That sandal is going

to be ruined and

it’s too bad because

those silver sandals

are my favorites.)

There are flashing lights

and cars and people

rushing around.

Someone shines a light in my eyes.

Someone else is talking to me,

asking what my name is

and what the date is,

like I really care about that

right now.

The boy next to me has started to cry

and I feel sorry for him,

but I wish everyone would just

shut up and go away

because all I really want to do

is

go

to

sleep.

WALTER

If Billy Clanton had only surrendered

a lot of bloodshed would have been spared.

But the town must be protected and

a sheriff has to make the tough choices.

The girl with the yellow hair, sitting by me on the curb,

she understood.

Mother. Where is Mother?

Billy Clanton had a gun. I saw the gun in his hand.

But the thing I picked up. It was a toy, not a gun.

A rubber toy. That squeaks.

The toy is wet, with Billy’s blood? Or someone else’s?