Ghosts of Coronado Bay (2 page)

Kyle Forster and George Gibson grunted and huffed as they heaved a large coil of rope, thick as a man’s wrist, onto a table. They’d spent all of the afternoon, and much of the night, putting the finishing touches on the Black Lady exhibit at Coronado Bay’s Maritime Museum. The job was made more difficult than it should have been by the odd disturbances that kept happening, disturbances like the ones that already had the opening a month behind schedule. Dr. Bruce Griffith, who was overseeing the project, had let everyone know in no uncertain terms that he’d accept no more delays.

It was no secret around the museum that since the moment the remnants of the Black Lady arrived, strange things had been happening – lights flickering on and off when people weren’t in rooms, boxes falling to the floor when no one stood near them, and tools that never stayed where you left them. And, things only got worse once Griffith’s team started putting the exhibit together in the main exhibit room. Each morning, the staff arrived already knowing they’d have to pick up an assortment of display items that had fallen off seemingly level shelves and tables during the night.

After a while, the constant straightening of the previous night’s unexplained occurrences started to wear on even the most laid back employees.

Dr. Griffith and most of the museum’s senior staff chalked it up to a combination of clumsiness, old wiring, warped shelves, and possibly a small rodent problem. But several of the employees, especially those who worked exclusively on the Black Lady exhibit, had a different theory.

Haunts.

Some said ghosts; others favored poltergeists. A couple even talked about gremlins. But they all agreed something weird was going on, and it hadn’t started until they’d opened the crates containing the remains of the Black Lady.

Now, as Kyle and George admired their handiwork, a box of water-stained, illegible documents slid off a nearby shelf and crashed to the floor, startling curses and exclamations from both of them.

“Damn! I hate when that happens,” Kyle said, holding a hand to his chest.

“Ol’ Griffith would probably say the shelf ain’t level.” George pointed at the offending piece of wood. “He’d be wrong, though. I measured it twice yesterday, and it’s perfect. But that box keeps slidin’ off.”

Kyle shrugged. “You know what to do.”

“Yeah.” George took a roll of Velcro tape from his work belt. In order to end the time-consuming process of picking things up over and over, the whole staff had taken to using the tape to stick everything but the heaviest display items in place. Without it, they might never have gotten the exhibit open. Even Dr. Griffith hadn’t complained.

“There.” George gave the box a test push. It didn’t move. “That’s the end of it. We’re done and outta here.”

“And good riddance,” Kyle said as they flipped off the lights and let the heavy doors swing shut. “I never want to spend another night here. Damn place gives me the major creeps.”

The two men continued complaining as they walked down the hall, their voices gradually fading away until the only sounds in the exhibit room were the soft ticking of a wall clock and the ever-present groans and creaks all old buildings make in the night.

Five minutes after George and Kyle left the building, the ceiling lights flickered on and off several times, creating a strobe effect across the tables and cabinets containing the items salvaged from the rusted hulk of the Black Lady.

A figure emerged from the shadows, a tall, thin figure, moving with silent ease between the crowded displays. Several other men followed him.

“I thought they’d never leave,” the tall man said, his youngish face looking older than its years in the dim glow of the room’s emergency lights. “Start searching. Once the exhibit opens tomorrow, this place will be crawling with people every day, which means we’ll only have nights to look for the key.”

An older man, his shoulders hunched from years of manual labor, his pale face leathery and worn by too many years of exposure to harsh weather, shook his head.

“What’s the use? Even if we find it, we’ve no way of unlocking the box and removing the book.”

The thin man scowled. “Leave that to me. I’ll figure out a way. I’ll be damned if I don’t get back what’s rightfully mine.”

The half-dozen figures spread out through the room, peering into cases, looking underneath anchors and hull plates and thick metal chains all pitted and corroded from over a century of lying on the ocean floor.

As the men carried out their relentless search, a seventh figure stood in the shadows of the doorway watching them.

Unlike the others, he prayed they wouldn’t find what they were looking for.

Because it might mean the end of the world.

*  *  *

“I don’t believe what I’m hearing. You’re not going to the dance? You have to go. Everyone will be there.”

Maya shook her head at Lucy Patton’s incredulous look. “Not me,” she told the girl who’d been her best friend since fourth grade. “I am so not going to be the biggest loser in the junior class. I’d rather stay home and watch television with my parents than go to the Homecoming Dance by myself.”

“But you won’t be alone. At least, not after you walk in. You’ll be with me and Gary and everyone.”

“Oh, that makes it so much better. Instead of being the third wheel with you and your boy toy, I can be the seventh or ninth wheel with a whole bunch of couples. No thanks.”

Any stranger seeing the two girls walking home from school would have been forgiven for mistaking them for sisters. Both were average height and build, with blue eyes and hair down to their shoulders. On closer inspection, however, a person would see that Lucy’s hair was closer to strawberry than cherry, and her eyes several shades lighter than Maya’s. Lucy was fond of saying they were opposite twins - one dark, one light, one serious, one crazy.

No one that knew them disagreed.

A brisk wind shook the trees as they rounded the corner onto Franklin Street, the long road that paralleled Coronado Bay’s Main Street and led from the school to the neighborhoods where Maya and Lucy lived. A few red and yellow leaves, harbingers of the approaching autumn, took flight around them, miniature kites zigging and zagging through the air.

With her usual pitbull stubbornness, Lucy continued her attempt to change Maya’s mind. “You know, you could have had a date. All you had to do was wait until after the dance to dump Stuart.”

“Yeah, right. Put up with more of his crap just so I could go to a dance with a guy who’s suddenly decided that girls are supposed to be docile little slaves who do whatever their boyfriends say? What drugs are you taking? I want some.”

“Very funny. Ha, ha, you should be on America’s Got Talent. I’m serious. I want you there with us. It won’t be the same without you.”

“Well, unless someone decides to take pity on the ugly duckling with the psychotically jealous ex-boyfriend, methinks I’ll be spending Homecoming in my room with a bottle of diet Coke, watching bad Tori Spelling movies on Lifetime.”

They reached the corner of Dunes Lane where Lucy lived. “Well, I’ve got a week to change your mind. That’s my mission.”

Maya laughed. “Don’t quit your day job. I’ll call you after dinner.”

“Later.”

Maya waved goodbye and continued walking. She still had two blocks to go before Beach Street, where her parents owned a two-story Cape Cod that seemed to get smaller and more crowded each year, even with her brother Joe away at college.

“Maya, we need to talk.”

The voice from behind startled her, even as she recognized it. She turned around and confronted the husky boy stepping out from the obscurity of a large tree.

“Stuart. I already told you. We have nothing to talk about. And, why are you following me like some kind of creepy stalker?”

Stuart Newman spread his hands. “’Cause waiting for you here was the only way I could get you alone. All I’m asking is five minutes.”

Having dated Stuart for three months, Maya knew how stubborn he was, and that sooner or later she’d have to deal with the confrontation she’d been avoiding. “Fine. Five minutes. Start talking.”

“What, here?” He frowned, his thick eyebrows dipping down until they nearly met in the middle, creating a giant, hairy caterpillar across his forehead. “Let’s go to your house.”

“It’s now or never.” She tapped her watch. “Time’s a-wastin’. I’ve got a paper to write.”

“Okay, okay. Geez, you can be such a bitch. Look, all I want to say is I’m sorry. I don’t know what I did to piss you off, but whatever it was, I apologize, okay? I just want things to be like they were.”

Maya took a deep breath before replying. There had to be a way to explain things to him so he’d understand, without causing another shouting match like the last time.

“You don’t get it. The way things ‘were’ is exactly what I don’t want. You were too possessive and waaay too jealous. That’s why it’ll never work between us.”

Stuart’s frown grew harder, and a red glow crept up from his neck and spread across his square face. “You know, a lot of girls would consider it a compliment that their boyfriend wanted to spend time with them.”

Maya felt her control slipping. “Spend time with me? You wouldn’t give me a chance to breathe by myself! You had to walk me to school, walk me to my classes, eat lunch with me, go to the mall with me, walk me to work. You got pissed off if I wanted to hang out with Lucy; you got pissed when I wouldn’t let you come to my karate class and watch me. And, don’t try telling my it was ‘cause you wanted to be around me. You just wanted to make sure no one else talked to me.”

“That’s bull. I never said you couldn’t talk to people!”

Stuart’s voice had grown louder, and Maya found herself shouting back at him. “Oh, yeah? What about the time Chuck Henderson asked if he could borrow my homework, and you threatened to put his head through a locker?”

“Don’t bring that up. That’s different. It was a guy!”

“See? It’s all about jealousy.” Maya stopped, closed her eyes, and counted to five. When she felt calmer, she opened her eyes and looked at Stuart. Veins bulged at his temples, his fists were clenched, and a muscle twitched along the side of his jaw. Even though she could tell he wouldn’t listen, she made one last attempt at rational conversation.

“Stuart. There’re a lot of girls who like the kind of attention you give a girl. I’m just not one of them. You need to find someone who likes you for you. And, I need to find someone who lets me be me.”

He stared at her, and for a moment she thought maybe, just maybe, she’d gotten through to him. Then, something changed in his face, as if he’d just learned his homework had been stolen.

“I get it now. There’s somebody else, isn’t there? If I find out you’ve been cheating on me…”

“Stuart. Grow the hell up. There’s no one else. I just don’t want to go out with you. Period. I’m sorry, but that’s just the way it is.”

Maya walked away, hoping he’d finally gotten the message to leave her the hell alone. She’d gone about fifteen feet when he spoke again. This time his words were cold, hard, and mean.

“You’ll be sorry, all right, you slut. And, so will any guy I catch you with.”

Maya turned around, alarmed at the threatening tone in Stuart’s voice, but he was already gone.

“Great. School’s gonna be a barrel of laughs tomorrow.”

*  *  *

“I can’t believe he actually said that! He called you a slut? You?” Even through the tiny speaker of Maya’s cell phone, the eager shock in Lucy’s voice came through loud and clear. “I know nuns sluttier than you.”

“I know, right?” Maya had called Lucy right after dinner to tell her about the scene with Stuart. “He totally freaked on me. I’ve never seen him so bad.”

“Is he doing drugs?”

Maya rolled her eyes. “Stuart? No way. You know him. No drugs, no drinking, no cigarettes. Gotta stay healthy for football.”

“Maybe that’s why he’s so angry.”

They both laughed, and then Lucy grew serious.

“What are you gonna do about him?”

“Nothing. What can I do, except stay the heck away?”

“What happens if somebody asks you out? You don’t want Stu going Godzilla on some poor guy.”

“Yeah, ‘cause the guys are really lining up at my door to ask me out. That’s one thing I don’t have to worry about.”

“Cut the Ugly Betty routine, Maya. This ain’t ninth grade anymore. You’re not fat, you’ve got a pretty face, and you’ve finally got boobs. Sooner or later some idiot’s gonna ask you out.”

“Ha, ha. Easy for you to say, you’ve dated three guys in the past three months.”

“That’s what happens when you put out, girl. Guys want to be with you.”

“Whatever. I gotta go. I’ll see you in school tomorrow.”

“Later!”

Maya turned off her phone and opened her textbook. She still had math and biology to finish, and it was already nine o’clock. As usual, she’d spent too much time talking to Lucy.

Another late night. Oh, well. That’s why God invented energy drinks.

Still, as hard as she tried, she couldn’t concentrate on her math problems. Was Lucy right? Would she have a better chance of finding a decent boyfriend if guys knew she’d have sex with them?

An image came to her, of Stuart naked in her bed. Although she’d never ‘knocked boots,’ as Lucy liked to say, with Stu, they’d gone far enough for her to regret getting even that physical with him. She could only imagine how much worse his jealousy would be if they’d actually gone all the way.

And, what about the future? Would the next guy be the one, or another douche like Stu?

What if I do it with the wrong guy? I don’t want to wait ‘til I’m married, but I do want to be in love with the person who’s my first, not lose it to someone who ends up being a jerk.

And that was the problem, right there. All the girls she knew didn’t care about love. Most went with the three-date rule, and there were more than a few who had no problem hooking up with a guy on the first date, or even without a date. Some didn’t even care if they went with a guy or a girl, or both.