Chương 16: Ch 16: Cool story, Bro
We sat for three days; me, the redhead fight attendant ghost, and the remains of Officer Jayden.
Jay awoke inside the smoldering remains of a 2012 Honda Civic. This was a vehicle that had once resided in the Police impound lot. I knew that only because the attackers left the paperwork in the glove compartment. This was part of the narrative.
I took a step closer. "You're alright, Jay." I didn't even know if he could still hear me. The men he once considered friends, beat him within an inch of his life. They had handcuffed him, locking him in the driver's seat, before setting the car on fire. All in the heart of Indian Territory.
The flight attendant placed her hand upon my shoulder. "No."
"No what?" I asked.
"He's not dead."
"ok," I said with a nod. He sure as fuck looked dead. But looking at a different angle I could see she was right. His chest was moving. I should have felt happy, hopeful, but no. Instead, I felt physically ill (despite being dead.) This was a pain like nothing I'd ever experienced. Jay had been left to die. All because he wanted to be my friend.
I looked to the remains of his truck. The majority of the vehicle had been torched, but the frame was otherwise left intact due to the lazy arsonists. I passed through the wreckage, my ghost form gliding like a breeze; just enough wind to affect the dirt.
I focused on my fingers, coaxing a piece of windshield glass to move. It worked. Somehow I could pull small items towards me. It was like a 'flick' motion. I tried it over and over until I heard a click.
In his glove box was a small metal container. The label had my father's name. There was a small note-card attached that said to 'save this item for Officer Fuller' who would pay for the release of its contents. It was my father's ashes. And I had a feeling the notecard was meant to keep the transaction on the down-low, but for whatever reason, someone told someone.
"I'm so sorry, Jay."
The flight attendant took off her jacket, putting it over my shoulders. I had almost forgotten I was naked. "And one of those people told; Michael Raven, Conner Harris, Leon Cruz, and or Randell Fish."
"How do you know their names?" I could see their faces in my mind's eye. They were men I'd met before, they'd bought drugs from my father, arrested my friends. They were truckers, bar owners, and cops.
"Lucky guess." She took a seat in Jay's truck, kicking up her legs. "And they were quite proud of their work; both the work they got paid for and the work they did on the side, for fun." She reached for a packet of cigarettes, using a similar 'flick' ability until they landed in her hand. "You were one of eight First Nation prostitutes who 'disappeared' at their hands. Eight on record, anyway, there were probably dozens more from neighboring territories, maybe even some from south of the border. "
"South of the border?"
"Americans have runaways too," she said, rubbing her fingertips together until she created a flame.
"Damn crazy Americans." I attempted to pick up a cigarette but my hand passed through. And now I was sad. Never before had I wanted so badly to sob, to cry out for God, my father, anyone? "I'm not sure about the other girls, but I know what the men are," I choked back tears. "I know what they did to me."
They raped me, beat me, strangled me, they even put a bullet in my head. All before throwing my naked corpse off a cliff. Too bad it didn't kill me right away. I could remember laughing, thinking about how no one was ever going to find my body.
'How did Jay find my body?' I figure Jay had tried to find me at the hotel. Maybe he asked Cathy if I already left town. What would Cathy say? She loved me, but she hated cops. Would she have told him that I was a good girl, a loyal worker who would never have left town without saying goodbye? Or would she say I was already miles away? Did it matter? He should have forgotten me.
Instead, Jay went out alone, after his shift, just to see what he could find. What he found was the remains of my body. Maybe he screamed, maybe he cried. But after a few seconds, Jay also found himself looking down the barrel of a shotgun.
How did he know where to find my body? Whose instructions was he following? Maybe I could ask him that if he ever regained consciousness. I left the truck, heading back to Jay's body.
I stroked my hand over his face; his swollen eyes, broken jaw. 'Could he feel me?' He had a bad fever and there was so much blood. If he ever woke up, would he be able to walk? Would he even be able to speak? 'Maybe you should stay asleep.' I placed my hand in his. 'I'll stay with you. I'll protect you. I promise.' I suddenly felt him move.
"You'll always be my hero, Mr. Jay," I said giving my best Harley Quinn impersonation while choking back tears. "That's a Batman reference."
I looked back at the truck. We were not alone. 'Shit.'
"Yes, I know, Harley Quinn," Jay said out loud. "Does that make me the joker?" His voice; terrified, weak, dying. There was no hope; he knew what he had walked into. He was going to die, because there was no way they would allow him (as a cop) to leave, knowing what he knew.
"Can you see me?"
Three men appeared in the distance. Upon seeing Jay was alive, they were clearly confused. Then one came forward. Leon Cruz, a fellow cop, someone who had been around since before the loss of Jay's wife. "Come on guys, just look at him. Jay's clearly wasted. He probably won't even remember finding the body."
There was no reply. The other two men seemed to look at him in disbelief.
Seeing that he was in the vocal minority, Leon stepped backward. He lowered his face pitifully, before taking his place in the shadows of the stronger men.
"We just can't take that risk," said a different man as he cocked his weapon. I recognized the voice as the truck driver, Randell Fish. He walked around Jay's truck, noticing the glove compartment. He paused, looking at his co-conspirators. "Someone was here." He looked around as if hoping that the animal or small child would show themselves.
I approached Randell Fish. Even if he could feel me, there was nothing more he could do to hurt me. His heart was filled with anger, a raging fire that could not be extinguished. He walked to Jay's body and pressed the barrel of the gun against his head.
Jay was shivering. I could only assume his last thoughts were of his daughters. maybe his wife. "Don't let them see you cry," I said placing my hands upon his shoulders. "I'm here and I won't leave you." I knew he was afraid, but not of death.
"Please." Jay's eyes were toward the ground as he coughed up blood. "Please, man, you know my family."His blood mixed with tears. "You've watched my girls grow up. I'm begging you, my kids need me."
Randell laughed. "You ain't going to be much help in your state." He swung the pistol, striking Jay in the face. "Seriously, Jay; as a friend to a friend, I'm doing you a favor. Your kids will get your pension and they'll never have to know about their father fucking a first nation prostitute."
Jay opened his mouth to speak. He spat out a broken tooth, then another unable to stop the tears from flowing. "Tia was just an innocent little girl."
"An innocent little girl?" Another man laughed. "Aw, fuck, man, I actually felt bad for you." He approached, with a beer in his hand. He took a drink. "You're a God damn traitor to your race."
This started the beating. There were several kicks to the face, stomach, and groin. Jay was coughing up blood as he struggled to breathe. He had broken ribs and possibly a broken sternum and a collapsed lung. After what felt like an eternity he lost consciousness.
I was sobbing, my heart was beating in my chest. Why was I able to feel pain? I had no reason to feel pain. But then again what difference did it make? I was dead, this was not my pain.
The redhead placed her hand upon my shoulder. "Don't let go of him." Her hand was small gentle but stronger than any of the men. "No matter what happens, you can't allow his soul to be taken by someone other than us."
'Other than us?'
The men were laughing as they pulled Jay's managed body from the car. His arm was still stuck via the handcuffs. The force caused his shoulder to dislocate. They kicked Jay's body, stomping his head, chest, and groin. And then I could hear the sound of a gun cocking. The torture mercifully ended with a bullet to Jay's head that exited out his right eye with a fountain of gore.
It took all of my strength to keep my promise. I held on to him, praying for it all to end. It had to end eventually, right? 'Please God, please.'
The gore was mostly the remains of his eyeball and not his brain. (Although, truly, it was kind of hard to tell.) Jay's body was convulsing as blood gushed from his mouth with every breath. That meant he was still breathing, there was still something left to save. I reached for his hand, gripping him with all my strength. Jay's body slowly went limp. 'It's alright, Jay. It's alright. You're not alone."
The men posed Jay's limp, unconscious body back in the driver's seat, then placed (or rather shoved) my cadaver in a sexual position. It was actually kind of funny until the fuckers doused our bodies with vodka and gasoline. Of course, they had already done this before, but the idiots did not think this through. Luckily, they were also cowards who didn't stay to make sure the fire burned to completion. There would be plenty of evidence leftover for the police, private investigators, and true crime youtube detectives.
I phased through the car, resting my ghostly form over my corpse as my former flesh burned like meat on a barbeque. I needed to see Jay's face. I needed to know he was still alive. "Jay look at me." If he could hear me before, maybe he still could.
What remained of his body was struggling for every breath. But I couldn't even be sure if that meant anything since the contents of his skull were splattered across the ground. Was I being too hopeful? 'No, idiot! You're dead. If he was dead you would know it.'
I had never watched someone die, but I had seen animals die; rabbits, deer, anything that could be considered roadkill. I always told myself that the past spasm of breath in the creature's chest was the soul leaving this mortal world. Jay's chest was still moving. I just needed to believe in him as much as he believed in me.
I cupped Jay's face in my ghostly hands. "Stay with me, Jay. Just stay with me." The fire burned all around us, but I was already a seasoned veteran of Hell. "Remember what you said to me? you said that I needed to get out of Canada because I'm worth more." I needed to protect Jay, I needed to save him the way I couldn't save my father. "I'm going to get you out of here, I'm going to get you someplace safe. I promise." I needed to save Jay Fuller because he deserved to be saved.
My power acted as a barrier, between Jay's mortal body and the heat of the flames. It wasn't a miracle by any means, just enough to allow his physical body to survive the ordeal. I held him for hours, long after the fire burned itself out.
The flight attendant patted my arm. "You did well. This might actually work."
"What?"
"He's alive," she said calmly. "We need to get going."
"Get going?" She could not be serious.
"No one's going to find this place. Not for a while anyway."
"Ok," I muttered, looking at Jay's remains. Focusing my mind, I told Jay we needed to walk. He was badly injured, his hands burned beyond recognition. But his legs were strong, or at least intact. "We need to get up." I moved his weight against the unlocked door causing him to fall out of the vehicle. Putting his arm around my shoulder, I tried to get him to stand but he collapsed.
"Little help?"
My friend walked over and with a single touch, she caused the handcuffs to vanish. To the RCMP, it would just look like the metal broke in the fire.
Jay's body collapsed in my arms. He was too weak to move, but at least he was out of the vehicle.
"You're welcome," the redhead muttered.
"Sorry, thank you." I was so focused on not pissing off my travel companion I didn't recognize the miracle in my arms. I could touch him. I could actually touch Jay's body. My soul was filled with a sense of hope. Could I touch other solid things? I put his arm around my shoulder and carried his body to his truck. This was surprisingly easy.
Jay's truck was still there. I should be surprised, it was all part of the narrative that Randell Fish and his men were trying to create. If I had to guess their story; Jay met with me to hand over my father's remains, in exchange for a blowjob in a stolen car? Then somehow we drove off the road? The lie was just realistic enough to make the papers. 'Whatever.' All I knew was that we couldn't stay where we were.
I managed to open the door of Jay's truck. That was when I found the urn, but also some water. My hand passed through the plastic bottle, on my first try. "Shit!"
My redhead friend appeared by my side. "Try again, you can do this."
I nodded. I knew she was right. I closed my eyes and focused. 'The plastic; solid, thin but firm.' I could see it in my mind. I could remember what a plastic bottle felt like. I moved my fingers again. I could pick up the container! And it was too heavy to lift. "Fuck!" My eyes drifted to the box. "Wait a second." The glove box; that's where my father was.
The red-haired woman patted my head. She gave my shoulders a warm, comforting hug. "I knew you could do it."
'Hi, Dad.' Part of me wanted so badly to hear his voice. I placed my transparent ghost hand upon the box, letting my fingers pass through. I felt a sense of strength. It was the strength and courage of my ancestors, rippling through my form. I reached for the water bottle again. This time I could pick it up. I could even move the liquid from side to side. I wanted to cry. I was able to close the glove box, with a click. But that caused me to drop the bottle.
"There's a trick to this," the woman said. She placed her hand on my back, rocking gently. Somehow she was focusing her power.
My eyes filled with tears. "Charli, your name is Charli." I could see what she had down to gain her powers. Yes, she had brought down a plane, but somehow her actual heart belonged to a man and a child. I needed to latch on to the land of the living; the idea of love, hope, compassion, and maybe, just maybe- vengeance.
I picked up the bottle and made my way to Jay's side. I placed my fingers to the cap, feeling the ridges. 'Place pressure and open.' When I heard the crack of the plastic I felt a level of joy usually reserved for babies and wedding days. I opened the water bottle, spilling a few drops onto his face.
"Jay?" I watched as his lips parted, asking for more. "Jay, are you there?" I could feel his heart, it was weak but it was still beating.
"It's okay, you don't have to speak." Oh, how I wish he didn't speak.
The man's breath sputtered, as his remaining eye struggled to blink. The look was one of pure terror. He was feeling every trickle of pain and it was all he could do not to scream. 'No, he was clearly trying to scream.'
Jay was glancing around in horror. His mouth opened, as he looked up at the sky. "I can't." The words were barely a whisper. "Oh, God. I can't."
I shook the bottle again allowing him a few more drips. I knew he was in pain. I could only hope he could still feel me. "You can't make it on your own, but we can. We can make it, together."
Jay blinked, his vision seemed lost. "Tia?"
"Yes." My voice was nothing more than a spasm.
"Is that you, Tia?"
"Are you able to see?" I asked. I had just assumed he could see me. Now I felt a little stupid for being so hopeful.
"I see only darkness," he replied, blinking away tears and dried blood. "I hear your voice, but I fear you're only a dream."
I felt myself sobbing, real actual tears. "Would you be honored if I kissed you?"
That got a smile. "I don't deserve a friend like you."
"Nah, you do." I leaned in and kissed his lips. "Mr. Jay."
It took a while longer for him to regain enough strength to sit up. Soon he was able to reach the water bottle on his own. I stayed by his side, holding his hand. During the hours he slept, I refilled the bottle with my tears. He was my connection, my hope. This had to work. He had to survive.
With my spirit guiding him we reached the border, crossing into Manitoba. Of course, this didn't really mean much since we were still in the middle of the Canadian wilderness. But at least there was water and even a source of food.
I knew a little about scavenging edible plants and could point him towards stuff that my people had eaten for longer than Canada had been a country. Since the border was in-country, there was no major checkpoint or military presence. However, there was the presence of the highway patrol. Truckers had to answer for their sins; drug running, sex trafficking, etc. And just my luck, an officer was pulling someone over.
"Just rest here." I left Jay's side, allowing him to succumb to exhaustion. "I need to go do my ghost-thing."
I made my way to the road, unsure if this would even work. "I'm an angry ghost, I'm an angry ghost." The closer I came to the unmarked truck, the less I needed to convince my soul to fill with an all-consuming rage.
The driver was an average-looking trucker, male, mid-fifties with a beard. Apparently, he had been pulled over for failing to check in at a Weigh station. I waited for a moment, as the driver tried to talk his way out of getting his truck searched, but to no avail.
The officer called for backup, and in short order, five more cars arrived. They had apparently been trailing this truck for a while; they already knew this truck was evil, all I had to do was wait. 'I wonder what presents Santa is carrying?' This far north, I figured it was drugs, intermixed with other supplies that would have gone towards the communities of this area.
And I was correct. I giggled as I watched the driver get arrested. He was hauled off in one car while the others waited for backup and for the truck to be taken to impound.
"Hello?" A man shouted. The young officer turned to his partner. "Do you see a girl over there?" his question went ignored, as the other cops were inventorying the contents of the nondescript wooden boxes.
I made the come here motion with my hand, giving my best Japanese ghost impression (bad posture, long hair, etc. All I was missing was a static-covered television.) I was hoping the man would be curious enough to follow. Jay was not too far away, I just needed him to walk in my general direction.
I walked slowly, with my head down, creeping along like a fishing lure. 'Come on, you know you want to.'
The man looked around at his coworkers. No one was looking so he followed.
I squealed out of joy. My plan had worked as perfectly as it could have.
Jay was leaning against a flat rock, taking in the warmth of the North Canadian sun. He had been dragging himself for miles, his soul deserved to rest.
"Sir!" the man shouted at Jay's bloody emaciated body. The highway patrol officer radioed for medical aid, then checked Jay for signs of life. "Sergeant, this is Officer Miller," he shouted into his radio, "I found a body thirty meters east of the drug bust. Requesting medical aid."
"Any identification or signs of life?" the radio asked.
"Appears to be a white male in his late forties, no forms of identification." the officer locked eyes with me. "Do you know him?"
I nodded. Looking down I saw my clothes. I was wearing a blood-covered nightshirt. My hands were transparent and could only imagine what my face looked like. "Please help him." The words were clear in my mind, but the sound of my voice was like radio static. 'Damn it!'
"I can't understand you."
I nodded, motioning my hands as if to say 'It's fine, just save my friend.'
Luckily another officer arrived. "Holy fuck this guy's alive." He pulled out his handheld, shouting into the speaker. "We're going to need a medivac!"
Since Jay had no id, (or fingerprints, after being set on fire AND crawling across the Canadian wilderness) he was treated as a John Doe. He was severely injured, likely homeless, or the victim of an animal attack. He could have even been a lost American hiker. Thankfully, since this was Canada (land of universal healthcare) that lack of identification still entitled him to be airlifted to the nearest public hospital.
I stayed by his side, laying in his arms. During the nearly two-hour ride, Jay's heart stopped no less than three times. By the time we landed, the infection in his wounds was causing fever. If I wanted to save him, I was running low on time.
After landing, Jay was rushed off to surgery. After about ten hours, the best doctors of central Manitoba put Jay back together better than Humpty Dumpty.
I sat in the corner of the room, just looking at Jay's bandaged body. He was laying so still, I could have sworn he was dead, but the beeping machines said otherwise. "Jay?" I floated closer, to sit by his side. "I need you to picture your daughters. I know you haven't seen them in a while but try to remember." I placed my hand to his open, blinded eyes, closing the one that was not covered with a bandage. Moving my hand down his face, I could feel the warmth of his skin.
"But if you need to go, that's ok too." For a moment I thought about the idea of him leaving me; crossing over without me. I felt a pain and a level of fear I had never known.
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