Ghost Reaper Episode 2 (2 page)

***

Charlie
Spence and Edgar Evans drove from town to Bill’s diner everyday at
three in the afternoon. They would play checkers or dominoes, and
spread their bull around. If it was a slow day Bill would join them.
If not they went on without him. Sometimes they even lent a hand. The
three of them built and opened the diner around 15 years ago. The
restaurant never earned enough for three families, so Bill had bought
them out. Everyday, rain or shine, they would show up, except, of
course, Sunday; their wives made them go to church on Sunday. Even
Bill acquiesced to that practice, making it the only day he closed
the diner.

Charlie
grunted. “Lookie there…idn’t that Billie boy's Harley comin' at
us?”

Edgar
leaned forward in the passenger seat squinting. “Sure 'nough looks
like it.”

The
motorcycle neared and passed. Charlie tried to look over his left
shoulder, tugging the steering wheel in the process. His '64 chevy
pickup dove into the ditch.

Chad
saw the driver of the old truck staring at them, his jaw dropped
wide. He looked over his shoulder and saw the vehicle slid into the
ditch. So much for the helmet disguise, he thought. Bill had noted
this also and yelled out.

“
Charlie
and Ed...they hang out at the diner around this time.”

The
wind buffeted his voice, but Chad got the gist, he yelled back.
“They’re gonna find your body.” There was no way Bill could
have heard him, but he nodded. Chad pictured the event, the two guys
stumbling onto that carnage. He shuddered thinking about it.

I
always figured you wouldn’t be around to worry about things like
that. Shows how much I know.

The
bike slowed exiting out of a curve, and Bill steered off the road,
dodging embedded rocks and stumps as he navigated what barely could
be classified as a path. Chad held on for dear life. Whatever his
status, the idea of falling off a motorcycle in motion didn’t
appeal to him. They crossed a shallow creek whose now disturbed water
splashed up on Chad’s legs. He experienced a rush of exhilaration
as the cold water stung through his pants. Every sensation now was a
premium. He didn’t think he would be feeling them much longer. They
climbed a steeper hill than the others around them. Chad marveled at
Bill’s skill, he managed to traverse the jutting rocks, fallen
trees, and gullies without bottoming out the street built motorcycle.

His
praise was too soon. Bill twisted the bike right to avoid one rock
and ran over another one. The frame screeched, the bike lurched. Chad
flew to the left, Bill stayed with the bike to the ground. It was a
disturbing event, not that either could be hurt, but for him, seeing
his lower torso disappear into the ground left him shaken. Bill had
already kicked himself from under the Harley and stood regarding
Chad, buried in the hard soil up to his waist. He dusted himself off
and walked towards his half covered friend.

“
I’ve
heard of stickin' your head in the sand, but don’t you think that’s
bit ridiculous.”

The
younger man did not respond to the humor, his terse voice cried out.
“What’s happening to me…damn, I’m not ready yet. It’s to
soon.” He covered his face with his hands.

Bill
squatted beside him. “Son...I don’t think anybody’s ever ready.
Dyin’s hard to take. Turns out it’s down right confusing. Your
fading out. I didn’t want to say anything, but a couple of times
back at the diner I’d swear I could...well...I thought I could see
through you...you know...a little.”

Chad
uncovered his face, he was sobbing, but this body didn’t produce
tears, and his nose wasn’t running. That made the crying sound a
little on the dramatic side. He looked up at the older man, tried to
glean some wisdom from the wrinkles around his eyes. He managed a
half hearted smile and reached up. “How 'bout a hand.”

Bill
grabbed it. “No thanks, got two of 'em.”

With
a tug, Chad gripping with more will than presence, he was back above
ground.

***

Charlie’s
cap had twisted half way around his head; Edgar’s glasses hung from
his right ear diagonally across his face. His eyes were wide and he
stuttered as he spoke. “Duhduhdd id yyyou see thththat?”

Charlie
straightened his hat. “What did YOU see.”

Edgar
removed his glasses from the one ear. “I saw two goll-danged
helmets ridin' a motorcycle...don’t tell me you didn’t see that.”

“
Yeah...that’s
pretty much covers it. You think we’re both crazy?”

“
Naw...I
ain't crazy...but I know what I saw.”

Charlie
removed his hat and pushed his straw colored hair back. “I know I
ain't about to tell no one...they’d lock us up for sure.”

“Hah...”
Edgar laughed. “Lock you up...I didn’t see nuthin'.”

“
You
old bastard...you think that was Bill’s bike?”

“
Sure
looked like it. Guess we’ll find out for sure in a bit. Put this
thing in gear and let’s go see him.”

Charlie
put his cap back on, a turn of the key and the old truck roared to
life. He gave Edgar a stern look, jammed the transmission into first
and peeled out onto the black top.

***

The
Harley had suffered no damage, it powered up the hill with little
difficulty. At the top, they stopped and scanned the gently slopping
terrain. Several buildings sprawled over what appeared to be around
four acres of relatively flat land. A few rooftops and a couple of
steeples announced the presence of the town beyond.

“
We’ll
coast down and hide the bike in one of those buildings...walk to my
place. That okay with you?”

“
Anything,
long as I don’t have to wear this damn helmet. Feels like my skull
is embedded in it.”

Bill
looked him over, the helmet did look like it was sitting low. He
elected not to say anything. The kid had enough trouble as it was.

Hell,
my day ain’t been one for the memory books. Wouldn’t surprise me
if those lottery tickets I bought this morning hit. Aw well, Emily
will need the money.

That
thought brought a swell of pain that threatened to release a moan
from the big man’s throat. Twenty-two years ago he had met the
prettiest raven haired freckle faced woman he had ever met, married
her and damn if she still wasn’t just as pretty. She loved the sun
and always had a tanned
face
that accented all those wonderful freckles. The thought of never
seeing her again was unbearable.

“
You
alright?” Chad interrupted.

Bill
looked up glad that he couldn’t cry. “NO...I’m dead. How are
you?”

“
I
think I’m deader...can’t seem to get this freakin' helmet off.”

Chad
pulled and pulled on the contraption, but could not manage any grip.
Bill approached and yanked on the helmet almost tossing in into the
air.

“
Guess
my molecules are still holding together, but that mishap we had...I
put my foot down and pushed hard...pretty sure that should have kept
the bike upright.”

“
You’ve
got the advantage of knowing you’re dead. I didn’t realize it
until I saw you standing next to your body. There were things...you
know...that I noticed, but they didn’t click. I just thought I had
a concussion or something.

Bill
considered this, not sure if he was getting weaker or not. He was
positive now that Chad was on the way out; to where he had no idea.
What bothered him the most was why they were still here in the first
place. Ghosts were something he never believed in, so maybe he was
wrong about that, but hanging around for a couple of days made no
sense, and sense was something Bill did believe in.

"Well,
if I'm starting to...I don't know...dissolve...we better mount up so
I can get home while I can still do something."

Chad
chuckled. "Just what do you think you can do?"

"Hey,
my generation uses computers too...thought I might be able to leave
her a message."

"You
don't think that might freak her out a bit?"

"Maybe...but
if it was her, I'd want her to try and contact me." His voice
trailed off and he looked to the ground.

"Hey
man...I'm sorry...how long have you two been married?"

"Twenty-two
really good years," the big man answered.

"Well...let's
get you home."

***

Charlie
drove around behind the diner where Bill always parked his bike. "I
don't like it Ed...he's got the open sign showin'...the Harley's
gone...hell he wouldn't even let Jesus drive that thing."

Edgar
nodded in agreement. "Drive back around front. You still got
that loaded .38 under the seat?"

Charlie
nodded as he swung back around to the front of the diner. "You
think we ought to call the sheriff before we go in there?"

"Hell,"
Edgar answered, "It'd take 'em an hour to get here. He might be
in trouble. Get the damn gun." He pulled the door handle and
slammed his shoulder against the door. It didn't open. He scowled at
Charlie. "When you gonna fix this thing?"

Charlie
was out of the truck and rummaging under the seat. Edgar tried again
without success.

"Damn
it, Charlie."

"Quit
bellyaching," he pulled the revolver from under the seat. "You
can slide out over here."

Grumbling,
Edgar butt-walked across the seat. Charlie wouldn't give this truck
up for anything, and he was sure the only thing holding it together
was the rust. Edgar had hornets buzzing around in his stomach
stinging him with dread. Something bad was going on. He knew it sure
as he knew Charlie hadn't shot that gun in over two years.

One
would have thought the two men were joined at the hip. They
approached the door in measured steps, guaranteeing they wouldn't be
separated by some ghoul crashing through the door. Six feet — five
— four — three — Edgar reached for the door like a chasm was at
his feet and he dared not get any closer. Charlie to his left, pistol
cocked, the hand he held it in trembling. Edgar turned the knob and
pushed the door open.

***

Bill
killed the engine and allowed the bike to coast the last hundred
yards. He knew where the fence was down and steered towards it. They
dismounted behind a shed with one open end and pushed the bike
inside.

"She'll
be safe here." he muttered.

Chad
wanted to be his usual smart ass self and tell him that he wouldn't
have much use for the motorcycle anymore, but still hadn't quite got
his foot out of his mouth from the last ill considered comment he'd
made. "I expect so," he responded.

Bill
gave his Harley one last look, turned and headed down a gravel road
that ran between an array of buildings. Chad hurried to catch up.

"Bill...what
is...was...this place?"

His
travel companion stopped and scanned the dilapidated structures. "Use
to be a combination chicken farm and packing plant. Kept hogs here
too, and even grew a lot of their own corn. It was one of the few
places you could work back in the day."

"How
long will it take us to get to your house?" Chad asked.

"Why,
you got somewhere to be?"

Ah
, there was that sense of humor Chad had learned to appreciate.
"Might be...hope not," he said with obvious false optimism.
"I would like to meet your wife...uh...well...see her. You know
what I mean."