Apparition (22 page)

I tell Joyce I’m off to meet up with some friends, and head out of the house. As I pass the living room, I see Ethan; he’s sitting on the floor in front of the TV, and his eyes follow me along the hallway. I ignore him and pull open the front door. The snow covers the road in a thin white sheet, so I decide to leave my bike behind and walk. Once I hit the crest, the Telford barn looms ahead, giving me the usual feeling of dread.

How do you deal with an evil spirit, anyway? That’s something no one ever talks about. I’ve been in that barn six times now, if I count both times I was there the night of Jack’s fall and both times I went in with Morris. And though I didn’t know it, that psycho ghost was in there each time too, watching, listening, maybe standing right behind me. God knows what’s up with him. But he takes the fun out of this experience, that’s for sure.

Morris’s car is parked in the Telford driveway. As I get closer I see that there are two people in the front seat, and I get butterflies in my stomach realizing that Kip came too. I wish he didn’t make me feel this way. I flash back to the night we came here together, and wonder again what it meant and where it might have led if I hadn’t freaked out. And whether he’d ever try it again. I’m sure he’s decided I’m just too weird to bother with.

As I walk up the driveway, I notice a For Sale sign on the front yard by the road. That complicates things, for sure. Kip gets out of the car to greet me.

“Hey!”

I take a deep breath and smile. “Hi there. I didn’t know you’d be here. What did you say to Morris to get him to let you come?”

“Oh, I had to agree to be the lookout while you guys are inside, watching for any trouble. Or real estate agents,” he says, gesturing to the sign. “He says I can come inside for emergencies only.” He grins, looking back at the barn.

I wish he’d take this a little more seriously, like his dad does.

“And what’s Morris up to?” I ask, seeing him bent over in the front seat and looking busy.

“Just prepping his equipment.” He leans toward my ear. “Should be interesting.”

Morris looks up from whatever he’s doing and waves at me. Then he gets out of the car, a small camera in hand. He opens up the back door and pulls out a large duffle bag. He looks excited, like a little kid.

“Amelia, how are you? Ready for this? Here’s what I’m thinking: we’ll go in and do a survey, find out who you can see and where they are exactly. Then I’ll start snapping and we’ll see if anything registers. Okay?”

“Sounds good.”

“If possible, I’d like you to try to talk to whoever you see, but at the same time you’ll need to direct me to where they are, so I know where to point the cameras. I’ve got an infrared lens to take pictures in the dark, and I’ve got a motion-sensitive camera that might be able to pick up a blur of movement, even if it doesn’t actually pick up the image of what’s moving.”

He takes one last look at the contents of his duffle bag. “One more thing: I was thinking I’d bring along the recording of your interview with Mrs. Ross, to see if her brother, Willy, is in there. Play a bit of it in the barn. See if it draws him out. Just an idea.” He shrugs and turns to Kip. “So you’ll stay within earshot and keep your eyes open for property hunters or whatever?” Kip salutes and Morris turns back to me. “All set?”

“Uh, sure,” I say, trying to sound sure. Glancing at Kip, I ask myself if I’m ready for this. He opens his eyes wide and shudders, pretending he’s frightened. It’s impossible not to laugh, but maybe that’s because I’m pretty nervous.

“I still think you should have brought your Ghostbusters vacuum, Morris,” he says as we head toward the big barn door. “He actually has one of those,” he shouts after me.

I’m feeling a little weak-kneed as Morris pushes on the door. He shoves it all the way open, to let in as much daylight as possible. Then we both stand in the entrance, letting our eyes get accustomed to the dim interior. It’s quiet and empty. I brace myself and step inside.

Morris moves over to one side of the door with his bag, sets it down rather noisily and begins to take things out: a flashlight, two cameras, a large lens attachment and the small video recorder. While he fusses with his cameras in the corner, I step lightly along the dusty floor. As usual, the cracks and holes in the boards of the walls and roof cast dramatic light in some places, while others are darkly shadowed.

There’s a shadow catching my eye on the loft platform along the wall. As I get closer, it takes the shape of Matthew. He’s sitting down, leaning back against the wall, legs bent in front of him, one elbow resting on a knee. He’s looking at his hand, just like he was the last time I saw him. That’s a little strange. I approach quietly, then stop and turn to Morris. I whisper, but loud enough so he’ll hear me.

“Matthew’s here. Sitting there against the wall. Right there under that cracked board. Should I talk to him?”

Morris has jumped to his feet with one of his cameras in hand, and he gives me a thumbs-up sign. He starts to circle behind me in the open middle space of the barn, all the while adjusting his camera settings.

“Ignore me,” he whispers. “Just let me know if he moves or anything.”

I nod and turn back to Matthew. He’s still there, only now he’s looking at me and smiling. I smile back at him and wave hello. I walk closer.

“Matthew! It’s so great to see you again. It always feels like some kind of miracle. Hard to get used to.”

He’s watching me but doesn’t respond.

“How are you?” Behind me, I hear Morris swearing under his breath. I ignore him and focus on Matthew. “You look exactly like you did when I was last in here. Do you remember that? You were sitting there—looking at your hand, even—like you are now. Do you remember what happened? That … creepy guy? Hanging from the rafters up there?”

Matthew glances up, cocking his head to the side, then looks back down at me. “That guy? Yeah, he’s mad.”

“What do you mean? Mad crazy? Or mad angry?”

“Both. He’s angry at someone. His girlfriend, I guess. I wish you could get her in here to talk to him. Calm him down. She must have really done a number on him. And you should see the temper on this guy.”

“I think I’ve seen it.”

“Amelia, can I ask you a question?”

“Anything, Matthew. Anything.” I hear Morris cursing and fiddling with his camera behind me.

“Is everyone dead, or is it just me?” He looks depressed. “It’s just me, isn’t it?”

I wish I could say something to cheer him up. “Well, I think everyone who’s hanging out in this barn with you is dead. And it’s only a matter of time, right? Until the rest of us are dead, I mean. Until I’m dead too. And time doesn’t seem to matter to you much these days, so maybe I’ll be joining you before you know it.” I’m
saying this but it’s not like I’m eager to join him in his weird ghost world. I feel a twinge of guilt about that. I wonder if he can guess. I’m also aware that Morris can hear what I’m saying, even if he can’t hear Matthew’s end of the conversation.

“I’d put it off if I were you. I miss my life.” He’s looking down at his hands again. “You know what they say: you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone.”

I don’t want this to get too sad. “Hey,” I say, “you remember the ‘paved paradise’ song?”

“I guess so.”

“Do you remember that time Nick threw his plate of spaghetti at the cafeteria wall?”

He smiles. “I remember the look on your face, yeah. I remember the look on Mrs. Gibson’s face too.”

“Do you remember your locker combination?” He looks at me like I’m nuts. “Never mind,” I quickly say. “I was just curious.”

Now his face has gone completely blank, like he forgot what he wanted to say. I can hear Morris’s camera off to my left. I hear a snap and then something that sounds like “Ouch.”

“Matthew, suppose I ask you to take a walk with me through the barn?”

“You want to go for a walk?”

“Yes, I do.”

And suddenly he gets to his feet. It takes my breath away to see him standing on the platform, towering before me. He walks to the edge and I can definitely hear his footsteps. I don’t know what that means. Is he still kind of solid somehow? Or am I only hearing what I think I should be hearing? He sits down on the edge of the loft and drops to the floor about six feet away from me. I hear him land. I take a step toward him, but the closer I get, the less clear he is to
me in the dim light. It’s like I’m far-sighted, like one of those old people who can’t read close up. Or like zooming in on his photo until he’s gone. I decide to stay a couple of arm’s lengths from him.

“Are you going to stay with me this time?” he asks.

His question catches me off guard.

“Because I love you. And you love me. We were meant to be together, and we should stay together always. Here.”

I feel like I’d better change the subject.

“Matthew, you know there’s a ghost in this barn that’s responsible for your death, right? And the deaths of a few other people too.” I’m looking around, but I don’t see anyone else.

“Yeah?”

“Well, I’m not crazy about spending too much time around him.”

“He can’t hurt you. I won’t let him.”

“You can stop him?”

“Yes.”

“How do you know?”

“I already have.”

“What do you mean?” He doesn’t answer but just looks at me, tilting his head a little. “Well, I’m grateful for whatever it is, but still …”

“You’re safe with me. Please stay with me? Don’t go.”

I have a flashback to that moment in the library shortly before he died.
Don’t go
. His fingers tight around my wrist, keeping me at his side, the clenched muscle in his fist, his forearm, his neck. I could have leaned over him, kissed him on the head, relaxing his tense jaw and bringing his lips to mine. Instead I panicked and ran. It seems so long ago. Now we stand face to face, looking at each other, but he might as well be a hologram. A sigh escapes me. How can I tell him it’s hopeless?

I hear a creak above me, somewhere in the rafters. I look back at Morris. He’s heard it too and he’s looking up. There it is again.

We stand perfectly still. I scan the roof’s sloping boards, many of them loose or broken, until something catches my eye. It’s one particularly long board, gently moving back and forth, hanging high above us by a few nails. It’s creaking. It could come completely loose, I’m thinking. Fall on us. Now it stops moving. I look back at Matthew, who’s also looking up. I glance at Morris. He appears concerned. Then he raises his camera to his eye and points the lens toward the board. He swears softly and lowers the camera.

“This thing’s not working in here,” he says. “I don’t know what’s wrong.”

There’s another creaking sound, this time from a different part of the roof. Another board moves back and forth, like it’s being loosened by an invisible hand. Footsteps behind us make us both jump.

“Me. Just me,” whispers Kip. “Why am I whispering?”

“He should get out.” It’s Matthew. He says it flatly. He means Kip.

“Kip, you shouldn’t be in here,” I say. His sunny smile seems so out of place right now.

“Kip,” says Morris, “I thought I asked you to stay outside.”

“I just wanted to warn you that someone drove by and slowed right down, taking a good look at me and your car. Don’t be surprised if a concerned neighbour is phoning the cops right about now.”

The sound of another creaking board cuts him off. It’s louder than the others, and in another part of the roof. We all look up at it swaying loosely. Suddenly there’s a loud crack of breaking wood and the board comes flying down. We jump aside as it lands with a heavy thud, raising a cloud of dust at Kip’s feet.

“Jeez! That was close,” says Kip, surprised as hell.

We look up again, eyes darting, ears straining to hear. Another board moves, only slightly at first. Gently. Then the movement gets harder and louder. We huddle closer together, our backs to the door,
inching away from the noise. Then it stops. We stand still, holding our breath, looking up into the rafters, saying nothing.

Minutes go by.

I look around for Matthew, but now I can’t see him. The barn is silent.

“I think we should go,” Morris says.

“Yeah. Flying boards are bad,” Kip says, sounding, for the first time, a little nervous.

“I don’t know,” I say. “Could we stay just a little longer? Maybe play a bit of the voice recorder and see what happens?”

Morris walks back to his bag, muttering again about how the cameras aren’t working properly. He pulls out the recorder and brings it over. As he does, I notice Matthew back in the shadows.

“Matthew?” I refuse to worry about what Kip might think. “What just happened there? Is it dangerous for us to be in here?”

Matthew gives Kip an unfriendly glance. Then he looks at me. “I told you I can protect you. I promise.”

“Well, is there a young man in here who looks like he might be a soldier from the Second World War? A guy named Willy? Or William?”

Matthew seems to be checking out Kip again, but he glances sideways across the barn to the wall where the stables are. He nods in that direction, and when I turn to look I see a dark form emerging from a stall. Coming out from the shadows is a young, thin man wearing a loose-fitting service uniform and a cap. I feel a strong sense of fear, of danger and chaos, like I had in my dream.

“G-good day, ma’am,” the soldier says timidly.

“Willy?” I’m looking around for Morris. “Can I call you Willy?” I move a step closer and look again for Morris, who’s holding the recorder. “I was hoping to run into you.”

Willy has curly, sandy brown hair. His cheekbones are high and
sharp and his eyes are sunken. I guess you’d say they look haunted. That’s because of his time in the POW camp, probably. His uniform looks well worn, but it’s clean and pressed. He’s looking at me with an exhausted expression.

“Your sister told us all about you,” I say.

“My sister?” That perks him up.

“Yes, your sister Dorothy. Dee.”

“Dorothy?” He looks around anxiously. “Where is she?”

“Dorothy lives not far from here. We met with her earlier this week, and she talked about you a lot. She loves you so much. But she hasn’t seen you in sixty-five years.”