The First Church (2 page)

“I thought the same thing,” Carlton said, leaning up against a filing cabinet.  “You figure someone would have talked about it.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Matt said.

A creak sounded outside the door which led into the hallway.

Carlton and Matt looked at one another, their eyes wide.

The doorknob twisted to the left and then to the right.

Carlton glanced at the back door, wondered briefly if they had enough time to make it, and then froze in place as the noise stopped.

He risked a glance back and saw he and Carlton were still safe.

A form slipped through the wall and stood on the old rug in front of the desk.

It was short, even without its head.  A man’s body clad in a uniform of some sort.  The hands opened and
closed, and a question was asked in a language neither of the boys understood.

Both Carlton and Matt, however, took their phones out, pressed the camcorder icon, and recorded the ghost.

Another question was asked, again the words completely foreign, but louder.

“Dude,” Matt said, laughing, “this is crazy!”

“I know!” Carlton said.  His own laughter joined his
friend’s, and he stepped back as the ghost advanced towards him.
  “Man, this is just like Call of Duty! 
Only, he’s headless, and not a zombie!”

“Right,” Matt said with a laugh.  “This is like the best special effects ever!”

“I am so putting this up on YouT
ube when we’re done,” Carlton said.  “This thing is definitely going to go viral.  We’ll be famous!  Maybe we can even get our own show on the Travel Channel.”

“Careful,” Matt said, grinning, “I think he likes you.”

Carlton couldn’t answer.  He tried not to laugh too hard
so he could keep the camera focused.

The ghost lunged at him, and its hands found Carlton’s
head.  He dropped the phone as the dead thing’s thumbs found his eyes and plunged into his sockets.

Carlton screamed and collapsed to his knees.

Matt realized he wasn’t able to run. His legs wouldn’t respond, even though he wanted them to move, to get him away. But he remained where he was, watching, as he kept the hideous image of his friend being blinded centered in the lens.

The headless ghost let go of Carlton, and then turned toward Matt and raced at him.

Matt’s screams soon joined his friend’s.

Chapter 2: A Meeting with the Reverend

Brian Roy sat in the Riverwalk Coffee Shop in Rye, New Hampshire while he waited for Reverend Joseph Malleus
.  He was on his second cup, because the coffee was actually pretty good.  The man had called the night before and been adamant about the arrival of a ghost in his church.

A headless ghost.

Even as a ghost hunter, Brian might have scoffed at the story, if he hadn’t recently survived the destruction of Middlebury Sanitarium.

Brian discovered he was now a lot more open-minded.

“How’s the coffee?”

He looked up and saw a young woman standing beside his table. 
She wasn’t the waitress who had served him.

“It’s really good,” Brian answered, smiling.

“Glad to hear it,” she said.  “My name’s Lisa
.
I’m taking over for Sarah, her shift’s done.  Let me know if you need anything.”

“Will do, Lisa,” he said.  “Thanks.”

Brian watched her walk back to the counter.  She was tall
, with short black hair
and of Asian ancestry. 
Her white shirt and khaki pants fit nicely on her lithe figure.
  He caught sight of a dragon tattoo
showing out of the collar of her shirt, and in the light of the shop, he could make out the faint outlines of more ink beneath her sleeves.

Brian smiled, took another drink and turned to the door as the bell above it chimed.

A pale skinned, thickset
man walked into the cafe.  His blonde hair was cropped close to his head as was
his
slightly darker beard.  The man’s eyes, which were a strikingly bright blue, darted around the shop.

Reverend Joseph Malleus,
Brian thought.  The newcomer wore an all-black suit with the
religious white collar.

Brian lifted his mug up and caught the man’s attention.

The Reverend smiled nervously and hurried over to him.

Brian stood as he offered his hand.

“Brian Roy?” The man asked, his grip strong.

“I am.  And you’re
Reverend Malleus?” Brian said, sitting back down.

“Yes, but you can either call me Rever
end Joe, or the Rev,” he said.  “The kids call me the Rev, and well, I like it.”

“Fair enough,” Brian said.

Reverend Joe turned slightly in his chair, motioned to Lisa,
and the young woman hurried over. 

“Afternoon, Rev,” she said with a grin.  “You want your tea?”

“Yes please, Lisa,” he answered.  “How’s your father?”

“About the same,” she said, her smile faltering.  “But
,
thanks for asking.  He still won’t see anyone but family
, though.”

Rever
end Joe nodded.  “Understood.  Please have him call me as soon as he feels like he can tolerate my presence.”

“I will,” she said, and her grin returned.  “Be right back with your tea.”

“Thank you.” 

The Rever
end turned his attention back to Brian.  “Sorry.  We’re a pretty small
community. I try to keep track of everyone.”

“Sounds good to me,” Brian said.  He looked at the man and realized the
Rever
end would probably avoid the issue for as long as possible.  “Why don’t you tell me what happened at your church?”

Reverend Joe fidgeted with
his wedding ring nervously for a minute.  He was about to speak when Lisa returned with
his
tea and set it down on the table. 

A strong, spice smell floated up with the steam from the cup.

“Well,” he said, looking down, “the first occurrence was last weekend.  Mrs. Staples, who cleans for us, ran into him.  Or, it.  I’m not sure.  The ghost is headless.”

Brian smiled.  “Let’s say ‘he’ for now, just to make it easier, okay?”

Rever
end Joe nodded.  “He.  Yes.  So
, I was working at my desk while Mrs. Staples was cleaning the office, and when she looked up, she saw it …
him, standing in the doorway.  He was filthy, and headless, of course, and her first reaction was to snap at him.”

“What?” Brian asked, laughing in spite of himself.

The Rev blushed slightly and nodded.  “She’s rather a bit of a spitfire.  She told him
that she’d just finished cleaning and he was going to make a mess of the hall.”

“What happened?”

“Well, I just sort of sat there, shocked. The ghost though, he left,” the Reverend said.

Brian shook his head and finished his drink.  “I’ll need to meet this Mrs. Staples.”

“Good,” the Rev said.  “She’s already insisted
on speaking with you.”

“Okay,” Brian said, smiling.  “So, she reprimanded the
ghost,
and he left.  Has anyone else seen him?”

“Yes.  I did
again, last night, with Mrs. Williamson,” the Rever
end said.  “We didn’t challenge him
, though
.  We left as quickly as possible.”

“And you called me,” Brian added.

“And I called you,” the Rev agreed.

A police cruiser, with an ambulance directly behind it, raced past the front of the shop.  The sirens
blared, and lights flashed maniacally.

A phone started to ring, and the Rever
end took a cellphone out of an inner pocket.  “Could you excuse me?”

“Sure,” Brian said, sitting back a little in his chair.

“Hello?” The Rev said.

He listened for a minute before all of the color drained from his face as he looked at Brian in horror.

“Yes,” the Rever
end said hoarsely.  “Yes.  I’ll be right there.”

With a shaking hand, he ended the call and put the phone back in his pocket.

“Reverend?” Brian asked.

“I’m sorry,” Rever
end Joe said.  “I
… well, you see, Mrs. Staples just called.  She went
into the Church, she
’d forgotten her scarf, and she found two boys.  Two of our youth group members.  They’d gotten into the office
… and …”

“Reverend?” Brian asked gently.

The Rev looked at Brian and said, “Someone ripped their eyes out.”

Chapter 3: Jim Gets Ready for Dinner

At fifteen years old,
Jim Bogue looked like he was twelve.  He was too small for his
age
and too thin.  His dad told him
that on a regular basis.

The glasses he wore made him look younger.

He’d heard enough Harry Potter jokes to last him a lifetime.

But Jim had inherited his mother’s hazel eyes and her father’s harsh features.

He had his dad’s hair and bad attitude.

His father was away on a deployment to Afghanistan, though, so Jim didn’t have to worry too much about the ‘gentle’ slaps his Dad gave when he had a drunk on.

“James,” his mother said from the kitchen.

He looked up from the Star Wars book he had started to read and said, “Yeah?”

“Dinner time, kiddo.”

Jim slipped a bookmark in, got up and went into the kitchen.  The table was set for three, which meant his grandfather was on his way down.  While his mother set a pot roast on the
table, Jim took the water out of the fridge and filled all three glasses.

The thump of his grandfather’s cane on the stairs sang out loudly.

Jim smiled at the sound, and he went and opened the narrow door to the hallway.

Through the darkness,
his grandfather descended. 

A moment later, the man stepped into the light, paused and smiled.

“I can hear you, James,” his grandfather said.

“Of course,
you can,” Jim said, smiling.  He stepped aside and the blind man moved easily into the kitchen.  With several quick taps of his
cane, Jim’s grandfather found his chair, pulled it out and sat down.

“Hi,
Dad,” Jim’s mother said, bringing a bowl of mashed potatoes to the table.  She set them down and gave him a quick kiss as she brushed his white hair back behind his ears.

“Hello, Karen,” he said with a grin.  “Carrots
, too?”

“Of course,” she said, turning to the stovetop.

He turned his head to Jim.  “And you, how was school today?”

“About the same as every day,” Jim said.  He grabbed the salt and pepper, brought them to the table and sat down across from his grandfather.

The man frowned.  “Who did you fight today?”

“Dad,” Jim’s mother said, putting the carrots on the table.  “He didn’t get in a fight today.”

“He did,” his grandfather said.  “I can smell it on him.  What have we said about fighting?”

“Not to,” Jim said sulkily. 

“Did you?” His mother asked, surprised.  She stopped by the sink and looked at him.

“Yes,” Jim said.

“Who?”

“Carlton Talbot,” he said, taking his napkin off the table and making a big production of spreading it over his lap.

“Why?” she asked.

“Because he’s a bully,” Jim said, trying not to snap at her.  “I don’t like it when he pushes me.
And I hate it when he pushes other people.”

“Who did he push?” his grandfather asked sternly.

“John Petroules,” Jim said.

“The crippled boy?” his mother asked as she sat down.

“Yeah,” he answered.

“What happened?” h
is grandfather asked.  “What did you do?”

“I punched him,” Jim answered.  He took a sip of his water and saw
that his hand didn’t shake.

“Where?” His grandfather said.

“Kidney,” Jim replied, and before any other questions could be asked,
he said, “no, I didn’t get in trouble.  Mr. Couture was out of the room when everything happened.”

“Did you get hit?” his mother asked.

“Yeah.  Matt Espelin hit me just before the teacher came in,” Jim said.  “But I don’t care.  I’ll get him tomorrow.”

“No,” his mother said angrily, “you won’t.  You know how I feel about fighting.”