The room began to fill with shimmers of light and shadow. He felt the whispery touch of the dead as they gathered around him.
“I can’t help you,” he said shortly. “I can’t hear you. I can’t help you.
Stop pestering me. Either talk to me or leave me alone. ” Frustration and despair filled him as he shrugged on his leather vest and reached for his heavy jacket. The delicate touches of the dead fluttered over his skin. He tried to shrug them away, but they were persistent.
The room was unbearably cold. Cussing under his breath, he grabbed his motorcycle bags and headed toward the door of his hotel room. He had never unpacked, anticipating this moment.
Striding down the hall, he saw the air rippling around him. A few of the spirits drew enough energy to actually grab his arm, but he shrugged them off.
In the beginning, he had tried to help the ghosts he encountered. Slowly, he realized that the spirits were simply trapped. Nothing he said to guide them helped. The whole world had been filled with death, altering everything beyond the world of the living.
Ignoring the elevator, he headed down the stairs. His boots heels sounded like thunder rolling through the stairwell. The spirits were losing energy quickly, basically burning themselves out trying to hold onto him.
He hit the bottom floor, cut across the lobby, and headed toward the door exiting to the construction site.
As he entered what had once been a janitor’s closet, he was startled when a hand grabbed his arm in an iron grip. Yanking his arm away, he was hit with a gawdawful stench. His Glock was already in his hand and coming up for a killing shot when he heard Old Man Calhoun mutter, “I can’t remember!”
“What the hell, Calhoun?” Rune shoved his Glock back into his holster, frowning at the old codger. He had given him a terrible fright.
“I can’t remember something important. And it’s eatin’ at me!” Calhoun let go of him and shoved open the door to the construction site. “I saw something long ago and then again a few days ago, and I know it was something important. It’s important because. . . ” He faltered, obviously struggling to grasp a flitting thought. Plunging into the night, the old man seemed to be chasing after that thought.
Rune sighed and followed. He headed toward the stairs that would lead him over the wall into the area where the fort secured all its vehicles.
Calhoun ran back and forth in front of him, hands outstretched, grasping at the air.
He didn’t feel the ghosts anymore, but they would catch up. His only real hope for any peace of mind was to head out into the deadlands and keep changing his location. Leaving the fort so soon was an annoyance. He had allowed himself the luxury of becoming a part of the community for a few days. Maybe he had even deceived himself into believing he could stay. It was a damn shame he had to go. He would miss Maddie and Dale.
Calhoun suddenly came to a stop and turned around. “The Whore of Babylon. That was what it was about. She was cohorts with the one that ended up killed in a
woman’s dress. She. . she. . . ” He faltered, his eyes rolling wildly in their sockets. Clutching his hands to his face, Calhoun wailed. “I can’t remember. It was. . . it was. . . ”
In the distance a rooster crowed, long and loud.
“Chickens!” Calhoun exclaimed. “Chickens!”
Rune blinked, then shook his head. The old guy was in a tizzy and there was nothing he could do for him. It had to suck to have lost your mind.
He climbed up over the wall and entered the huge parking area from which the teams were launched. His bike was in one of the old newspaper garages. The doors were open and he headed inside to uncover his bike.
As he pulled the tarp off, he heard a noise behind him and quickly turned.
It sounded like a door opening, but he didn’t see anything through the gloom.
“Hello?”
There was no response and he shook his head. The damn ghosts had him spooked. Securing his bags to the bike, he took a deep breath. It was that time again and that was all there was to it. No time for regrets or fear. He rolled his bike out into the open air, noting that the sun had began to slowly peek over the horizon.
“Heading out, Rune?”
It was the old guy named Ed.
“Yeah. Time to go. ”
Ed stared at him thoughtfully. Behind him, the sentries were charging out on the wall; the early morning crew was arriving to work on the wall reinforcements. In Ed’s gnarled hand was a steaming cup of coffee. Rune would kill for a cup right now, but he didn’t feel like stirring up the ghosts anymore than he had. It was hard enough keeping focused when he had to deal with one or two. He couldn’t deal with a whole town’s worth.
“Well, you’re welcome to stay,” Ed finally said.
“Yeah. I know that. But it’s time to move on. I can’t stay long in one place. My nature don’t permit it. ” Rune felt that was explanation enough.