David felt underdressed when he saw Cassy with her client at the bar. To be fair, it was a sports bar and David hadn’t expected to see a man in a suit and tie at Dick’s Halfway Inn Bar & Grill. But there he was. Cassy, David, and her client would be going to Gary’s show after dinner. It’s a night out, he thought. I should have dressed up more.
It was her biggest client, a politician who had an image problem. The sight of his American flag pin and red power tie gave David the impression he was a Republican. Is Cassy a Republican? he wondered. It dawned on him they had never discussed politics. But David wasn’t one to criticize any political affiliation since he hadn’t voted in years.
Cassy got up from her barstool. “David!” She kissed him on the cheek, then introduced him to her client.
“David, this is Max.”
“Nice to meet you,” he said, shaking David’s hand from his seated position. That’s a power move, David thought. The man was older but very handsome and Cassy seemed to light up when she talked to him. David didn’t like that.
“Nice to meet you too, Max,” David said, taking his place at the bar.
“Feeling better?” Cassy asked. “You look better.”
“Yes, I finally got a good night’s sleep.”
“How are the ribs? Still in a lot of pain?”
“Better. It doesn’t hurt to breathe anymore, but don’t make me laugh.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t be going to a comedy-magic show,” she said.
“Don’t worry about it. I never laugh at Gary anymore.”
The bartender came over and David ordered a gin and tonic, as that was what the other two were drinking.
“Cassy told me what happened,” Max said. “How horrible. I can’t believe how bad crime is getting in this city now that the Democrats have taken over.”
Yep, there it is, David thought.
Max turned his attention to the TV above the bar, obviously keeping his eye on the basketball score, but then continued the conversation. “Have they caught the guy who attacked you yet?”
David shot Cassy an irritated look. He didn’t want details of the attack getting around; he knew it sounded crazy to say a man beat him up then disappeared. What else had she told Max about him?
“No, they haven’t caught him yet,” David said, then changed the subject. “So, Cassy tells me you’re in politics.”
Cassy put her hand on Max’s arm and said, “Congressman Fitzgerald is in his first term in the second district up north. It hasn’t been announced yet, but with my help, he’ll be making a run for the Senate.”
The name ‘Fitzgerald’ rang in David’s ears, throbbing into a headache. The air seemed to be pulled from his lungs. Fitz?
“Your last name is Fitzgerald?” David asked, his voice trembling. He took a drink to cover his shaking.
“Yes. My friends call me ‘Fitz’. Cassy here is the one that got me elected with her ‘Fitz fits!’ campaign.”
David just stared at him. The buzzing sound returned to his ears, echoing Fitz fits.
Fitz was saying something to him, but he couldn’t make out the words. David felt as though he might faint.
“David, are you okay?” Cassy asked.
David took a deep breath, fighting to regain his composure. “Oh, the ribs are just hurting again. I think my pain meds are wearing off.”
“I think I have some Advil in my purse,” she said, starting to dig through it.
“Have we met before, Max?” David asked. “You seem really familiar.”
“Maybe. I meet so many people in my line of work it’s hard to remember them all. Or maybe you’ve seen me on the news. I haven’t had much face time on TV, but Cassy will fix that.” He squeezed Cassy’s shoulder in a way that David knew should bother him, but he was focused on the ‘Fitz’ of it all.
Pull yourself together, he thought. You are closer than ever to some real answers here.
“Do you know someone named Kang?” David asked Fitz, thinking it was worth a shot.
“No, but then I really don’t know many Chinamen.”
“Asian American,” Cassy said. “I know it doesn’t seem like much, but a slipup like that can cost you an election.”
She handed David a couple of pills, and he washed them down with his gin and tonic.
“What’s wrong with Chinaman?” Max asked.
“Besides being something my grandfather would say, it’s offensive to assume all people of Asian descent are Chinese. Not to mention the fact his family was probably here long before yours.”
“Okay, okay,” Fitz said. “So, who is this Kang?”
“Someone I met recently. I don’t remember where. He spoke highly of you.”
“So, we got the Asian American vote, that’s good.” Fitz smiled, revealing a row of perfectly straight and overly white teeth.
David looked up at the TV above the bar. The screen flickered and the basketball game was replaced by a ‘Special Report’ newscast. The two news anchors looked visibly shaken as they spoke to the camera. The picture was full of static and distortions, not something he was used to seeing on digital televisions. A buzzing in his ears told him it could be an otherworldly message.
Behind the newscaster was a picture of Max Fitzgerald, standing behind a podium, his finger pointing in the air and his mouth open as if he were yelling. The closed caption scrolled, President Fitzgerald launches nuclear strike against China. The screen flickered again and the news report was replaced by the basketball game.
No one else in the bar had responded to the ominous message, even those who were intently watching the game.
That’s why they want me to kill him! David thought. He’s going to start World War Three. Suddenly a flurry of memories fell into place: the writing on the mirror, ghosts trying to show him the horrors of dying in a nuclear blast. It all made sense in a surreal way. Ghost logic.
David regained his composure. “Speaking of Asia, what do you think about the current problems with stalled North Korean nuclear talks?”
Things had not been going well. North Korea accidentally hit Japan with an unarmed missile in a failed launch test. A nuclear accident had also taken out a town in Pakistan. The world was nervous.
“We should have never let it get this far,” Fitz said. He signaled the bartender for another drink. “If China won’t do anything about North Korea, we should.”
“You mean a preemptive strike?” David asked, baiting him, hoping to see what this guy was made of.
“It’s an option. A nuclear bomb sure taught the Japs a lesson they never forgot.”
“Japanese,” Cassy said. “Not Japs. And can we please not talk about politics? Let’s order some food. We don’t want to be late for Gary’s show.”
David had lost his appetite and just pushed food around on his plate. All he could think of was that he now knew what his ghosts wanted. David now had a mission, should he choose to accept it.
* * *
David, Cassy, Shannon, and Max were nestled in a packed audience. Gary’s show was funny and suspenseful, a unique combination of sight gags and death-defying stunts.
David found his concentration waning as he was preoccupied with finally finding his Fitz, and what he knew the ghosts wanted him to do. Or maybe this is all part of my delusion, he thought. I’ve finally gone full crazy. Maybe it is schizophrenia. I am not going to kill someone because ghosts tell me to. Delusions or ghosts. It really didn’t matter. He would hold his ground. He would not do something violent.
Gary did the infamous bullet catch, where a gun is fired from the other side of the stage and the magician catches the bullet in his mouth. Magicians had actually been killed when this trick went wrong. Gary’s twist on the classic trick was to have all his teeth blown out in a gory, bloody mess, as would happen in real life should one try to catch a bullet with their teeth.
He opened his gory maw to the audience, and they gasped as his teeth and the bullet hit the floor. David gasped as well, as he heard three teeth hit the stage with an eerily familiar click, click, click.
A quick spin, then Gary faced the audience with a clean face and a mouth full of his pearly white teeth. The horrif~~``~ied murmur of the audience turned into applause and laughter. David knew this was the trick that had so impressed Penn and Teller.
Each of Gary’s illusions was like that, gory and visceral. Sawing his assistant in half led to entrails spilling out of her. The sword through the woman in the box came out bloody on the other side. Even throwing cards at his assistant left a bloody mess as the cards were impaled into her skin.
These tricks were amazing enough, but the quick cleanup was what really was magical. Pints of stage blood and simulated gore all vanished with a wave of the hand.
David had some idea how he did it. Gary had shown him some stage blood he developed that turned from red to clear when exposed to the air for a few minutes. David was sure that was part of the trick.
For the finale, Gary’s assistant rolled out a man-sized box.
“For the final illusion of the night, I will step into hell itself.”
The assistant opened the black box, and it was even blacker inside.
“Hopefully it will be a short trip. But who knows, someday it may be my destiny if I don’t change my ways.” The audience laughed, and he grinned wickedly.
He stepped inside and his assistant shut the door and spun the box around three times. She opened the box and Gary came stumbling out, completely engulfed in flames.
The audience gasped at the horrifying sight, and a sight it was. The flames not only danced around on his body, but the audience could see his clothes and the skin on his face burning away, melting and exposing the skull beneath. They could smell the smoke and the nauseating scent of cooking flesh.
Gasps erupted into screams as some thought that maybe something had gone wrong with the trick. It didn’t help that Gary was screaming in agony or that the assistant herself also looked on in horror.
David was stunned. Standing there on the stage was the flaming ghost he had seen in his house. An exact recreation of it. He had told Gary he had seen a ghost in flames on his computer screen and in his living room, but hadn’t given him many details beyond that. He certainly didn’t tell him the ghost was wearing a suit.
Shannon applauded and looked over at David. Seeing he was upset, she said, “Don’t worry, it’s all part of the act. Amazing, isn’t it?”
A fire suppression system over the stage sent clouds of gas onto Gary, creating a fog that obscured him. In a few moments it shut off, the fog cleared, and Gary stood there unscathed. He took the assistant’s hand as they bowed to a cheering crowd.
Doubt returned like a bulldozer through his brain. Could Gary be behind it all? If he could recreate this ghost, he certainly could do all the others.
Hadn’t Gary told him that he could? But why would he do it? Just to mess with him? Just to show it could be done? David’s confusion gave way to a paranoia he had never felt before. A paranoia that made his brain burn like Gary’s flaming man. Maybe he’s secretly filming me for a reality show or something.
“He said for us to meet him backstage,” Shannon said. “Do you think the new assistant is too pretty? That can be distracting.”
“I barely noticed her,” said Cassy, and Shannon laughed.
“I knew I liked you.”
She led David and the others back to where Gary was mingling with the crew. He waved them over.
“Fantastic show!” Cassy said.
“Very impressive,” Max said. “A bit too gory for my tastes, but well done.”
Shannon threw her arms around him. “I think it’s ready for Vegas.”
“First act can be a little tighter,” Gary said. “But, yeah, I think this will be the Vegas show.”
“I especially found the burning man interesting,” David said. “Although it seems like I’ve seen it somewhere before.”
“Well, I’ve never seen anything like it,” Max said. “It looked so dangerous.”
“Gary, this is my client, Max Fitzgerald.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Max.”
“His friends call him ‘Fitz’,” David said. He looked to Gary’s face for a moment of recognition of the name, but Gary either didn’t hear it or was too caught up in the excitement of the night to remember the name on David’s mirror.
“What are our plans for the rest of the night?” Gary asked.
“How about a little club hopping?” Shannon suggested.
“Okay, let me get my makeup off and I’ll meet you in the lobby.” He turned to David. “Can I talk to you a moment?”
The others left, and David followed Gary into his dressing room.
Gary sat in front of a large mirror and started using cold cream and tissues to clean makeup off his face.
“I hope that didn’t freak you out too much,” Gary said.
“Really?” David said with anger in his voice. “You recreate my hallucination and you hope it doesn’t freak me out?”
“I just wanted to show you it could be done,” Gary said in the calm voice that David recognized from so many times when Gary had tried to talk him into or out of something. The calm, patronizing voice. The voice that said, ‘I’m the star, you’re the sidekick. I know what’s best. Just go along with it.’
“Burning gel over fireproof prosthetic mask and clothes,” Gary continued. “A holographic projection system to enhance the burning effects.”
“Well, you certainly proved it could be done,” David said. “You have the ‘how’ but not the ‘why’. What could people possibly want from me that would require a setup like this? My house? Wouldn’t it be easier to send thugs to beat me up? Hell, wouldn’t it be cheaper to simply buy the dump? No, it’s the why that is the real mystery here, Gary.”
“I agree, but you can’t really think it’s ghosts, right?”
David stared into the eyes of Gary’s reflection in the mirror. “How do I know you’re not the one messing with me? Do you have some reality show deal worked out? A novel you’re writing? Or are you just driving me insane because you’re some sort of psychopath?”
Gary turned to look David in the eyes. He still looked so calm, so patronizing.
“You know I wouldn’t do that to you.”
“Really? You’re the one who found the house and told me to buy it. Pretty easy for you to rig it up with special effects before I moved in. You’re the only one in my life who has the skills to pull this off!”
Gary’s calm finally started to crack, irritation breaking through. “I’m the one telling you it’s fake. There are no such things as ghosts! I’m trying to help you. You’re letting paranoia get the better of you.”
“You’re the one who told me to be paranoid! How did you do the TV in the bar? I suppose that’s easy enough.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You, Cassy, Shannon, Fitz, you’re all in on it!”
David stormed out of the dressing room.
The word finally caught up with Gary’s brain. “Wait, that guy’s Fitz?” he called out to David’s retreating back.
David ran down the hall and exited the building through a rear door into an alley. He ran a few blocks until he was sure Gary wasn’t chasing him.
He walked the streets of San Francisco for hours, becoming lost in the memories of all that had happened to him since buying the house. Would Gary really do this to him? He had been so sure, but that certainty faded as the heat of the moment cooled. He slowly realized, holding on to normal reality was what was destroying him. Gary wasn’t behind it. A crew of grifters couldn’t pull it off. There was no brain disease making it happen.
His rational mind was burned away, and all that was left were the ghosts.
* * *
David made his way home sometime after midnight, exhausted. He fell into bed and was asleep almost immediately. The ghosts were quiet that night and he managed to sleep straight through until midmorning.
When he awoke, things looked clearer to him. Of course, Gary’s not in on some conspiracy to drive me mad, he thought. He’s my best friend, and he loves me. And he has money. He doesn’t need a treasure hidden in the house, or a crazy reality show.
He was about to call to apologize when, like magic, Gary appeared at the door.
David didn’t hesitate. As soon as he saw Gary’s face, he blurted, “I’m sorry,” and threw his arms around his friend.
“Me too,” Gary said, returning the embrace. “I’m sorry about the burning-man trick. I wasn’t thinking about your mental health. It was me just showing off.”
Gary came inside. David had just made a pot of coffee, and the two of them sat in the living room, David on the sofa and Gary in the chair by a crackling fireplace.
“I just met Fitz yesterday, same as you,” David said. “And yet I saw his name on my mirror, we saw his name spelled out on the Ouija board, and we all heard his name on my phone that night. All before we knew he existed.”
“I admit that is strange,” Gary said. “It is suspicious that he’s a friend of Cassy’s. But I don’t know what a congressman has to do with all this.”
“I do,” David said. He told Gary about the ghostly broadcast from the future. “And before you tell me hacking a TV with a fake newscast is easy, no one else in that crowded bar saw it. So that means I’m either insane or the ghosts are showing me what Fitz will do in the future.”
Gary sat silent for a moment, then said, “I remember you telling me about the visions you saw while getting your brain zapped. You said the images went by too fast to take them in.”
“Yeah. I mean, I saw some. What registered was very disturbing. People burning, screaming, a real hellscape. But most were a blur, like fence posts going by outside the window of a fast-moving car.”
“Have you considered hypnosis?” Gary asked. “To remember the images. Whether it’s ghosts or your own subconscious trying to communicate with you, those images could be important.”
“Dr. Kendrick didn’t want to use hypnosis because she said my brain could just be confabulating them. We wouldn’t get images from that day.”
“Well, it’s worth a try,” Gary said. “Do you trust me?”
David hesitated. He didn’t want to see those images again, but he did want to figure out what was going on in his head.
“Sure,” he sighed. “Why not?”
David lay down on the sofa, and Gary pulled his chair closer. “Close your eyes,” he said. “Now, just roll them up under your eyelids for a moment. That’s good, you’re doing great. You’re getting more relaxed now.”
He continued speaking in a low, soothing voice. Gary had hypnotized David before, so David knew the procedure and went under quickly.
“Think back to that day of your laser surgery. Your head is strapped in, but this time it’s comfortable. You’re looking forward to being cured, looking forward to seeing those images that flashed before your eyes.”
David saw himself in the harness. It was like he was floating above, looking down.
“I’m in the harness. They’re about to switch on the machine.”
“How do you feel?”
“Claustrophobic.”
“You don’t feel that now. You feel secure and relaxed. You are just an observer now. Nothing can hurt you. What happens next?”
“They’ve turned on the machine and there’s a buzzing sound inside my head, like a jar full of angry bees. The images are flickering past my eyes.”
“What are the images of?”
“I can’t tell, they’re going by too fast. Like the world is out of sync.”
“I want you to see the images, David. Slow them down.” He spoke more slowly, guiding David to slow the tempo of the images. “Frame by frame, like an old filmstrip.”
The whirl of color and light came to an abrupt stop. It was the image of the woman from his office. She was on fire. It was horrible, and he wanted to stop, but then he heard Cassy’s voice. “That’s it, David! You can do it. Open your mind. Let us in fully. Stop pushing us away and the pain will stop!”
He advanced to the next image. Then a few more until they were going by a few seconds at a time, flickering slowly like an old-time nickelodeon.
A few frames of ‘President’ Fitz. The Chinese president arguing at the United Nations. Missiles in the sky. Burning cities. The burning man. It is Gary. Will be Gary, he thought. The ghost family from his sofa wandering through the rubble in what was left of David’s neighborhood. David’s house and Gus’s house were still standing, but many were piles of burned cinders.
He saw Cassy in the bedroom upstairs, committing suicide with pills. He saw himself and Shannon in a burned-out basement, holding each other and cowering in fear as more planes flew overhead. The ghosts were from the future, a horrible future they wanted David to stop. David had a purpose. He was important.
David sat up quickly on the sofa. His eyes were now open.
Now more than ever, David believed everything was in the ghost column.
Gary was not so sure.
“This initial brainstorm could be where all the subsequent visions came from,” he said. “I know you want a definitive answer, David, but this isn’t necessarily it.”
“So I’m back where I started,” David said. “Not knowing fact from fiction.”
“I can’t help you with deciding what is real or isn’t. Normally, I would say the simplest explanation is usually the correct one. All this is coming from a damaged frontal lobe or something, not from the supernatural. However, Shannon saw the ghost girl in your dining room. Weird things have been happening in the house I can’t explain, and your visions of Fitz and the future don’t seem like something your brain would or could pull out of thin air.”
“What should I do?”
“Maybe talk to the paranormal investigator again. Tell him this new information.”
“Well, that will be easy. He’s coming over. Today, in fact.”
* * *
Professor Lembeck arrived at David’s house just as Gary was leaving. Gary stopped him on the sidewalk and introduced himself.
“I have to go, but promise me you won’t let him do something stupid until I see him again,” Gary said.
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. But he thinks the ghosts want him to stop some future catastrophe. He’s not thinking straight. I’m trying to have an open mind about this ghost stuff, but don’t continue down this path unless you can really help him.”
“I promise to continue to use science and reason to study these phenomena,” Lembeck said. “Something caused these hauntings to happen. There might be a way to stop it.”
That seemed to satisfy Gary, and he left to get ready for that night’s performance.
“What was Gary talking to you about just now?” David asked, showing Lembeck to the living room.
“He’s concerned for your safety. I said I would do my best to help. He did mention you have a theory.”
“More than that. I know what they want and where they come from. You say ghosts can return to a place they once lived, but could they return to a time? Could they be haunting me from the future? Could they come back and communicate with me to stop the end of the world?”
Lembeck stared into the fire for a moment, digesting this. “Interesting idea. I would imagine they aren’t bound by the same rules of time and space as we are. If ghosts are created by severe psychological trauma, then I suppose the end of the world would create a lot of angry ghosts. This is just hypothetical. You’re not thinking they are from the future?”
“No, that would be crazy,” David laughed. “Yes! This is what they’re telling me. The world ends in 2030 and they want my help to stop it. You have to admit, it’s just as good an explanation as anything else.”
Lembeck looked like he did not, in fact, have to admit that, but he stared into the fire again, pondering. “I suppose an event like that would be packed with an enormous amount of paranormal energy,” he speculated.
“They tell me they want me to save the world by killing someone named Fitz. And last night I met a guy named Fitz. The writing appeared on my mirror before I ever heard of Max Fitzgerald. The ghosts must be telling me the truth.”
“You aren’t thinking of doing it?” Lembeck asked.
“No! Of course not. I’m not sure I could do it even if I somehow got the chance. Plus, how can killing one guy stop Armageddon? Just because they’re ghosts doesn’t mean they know what they’re talking about.” It’s still just a fucking dog, David thought.
“And then we have to consider that there might be evil forces at work here,” Lembeck said. “They might want to end the world. Killing Fitz could be the thing that leads to Armageddon.”
“Great, another theory. Well, now what do I do?”
“I have some more research,” Lembeck said. “There was a case of a haunted man after the atomic bomb destroyed Hiroshima. I seem to remember he was haunted by vengeful spirits before and after the bomb went off. He found a way to detach himself from the spirits. I’ll dig deeper. It might be able to help you in this situation.”
Lembeck headed back to his office.
David suddenly felt the need to talk to his dad and get his perspective on it. At least his dad believed in ghosts – and the end times.
* * *
After smoking a joint, and recovering from a coughing fit, David finally found the courage to pick up the phone and call his dad.
“What’s wrong, son?” his father asked after David went into a long pause at the other end of the phone.
“Dad, I think I’m going insane,” David said in a trembling voice. “I don’t know what’s real anymore. You were right. My house is haunted, and it’s worse than you could imagine.”
David told him of all the ghostly visions he had been through and all the theories swirling around in his head, none of them good.
“Do you believe me now?” his father asked. “That there is a world beyond this one where a battle of good and evil is taking place – has always taken place?”
“Sometimes I still think it could just be my broken brain,” David said. His eyes were filling with tears. Weeks of exhaustion seemed to be catching up with him.
“I felt a presence in that house,” his father said. “As did Reverend Pendergast. I believe what you are experiencing is real. That they could be demons trying to deceive you.”
“And how do I know they aren’t really angels or ghosts from the future wanting me to stop the end of the world?”
“That is God’s domain,” his father said. “He would not ask that of you or any man. How do you know these demons aren’t trying to stop Armageddon and the return of Jesus?”
There was static on the line and Cassy’s ghost said, “Don’t listen to him, David.”
“Did you hear that just now?” David asked his father.
“Yes. Don’t listen to her, David.”
“You know your dad isn’t a rational thinker,” Cassy’s ghost said.
“I’m getting on the first plane to San Francisco,” his father said. There was a desperate panic in his voice. “Don’t do anything until I get there!”
There was a loud buzz and David’s phone went dead.
* * *
After the call to his dad, David sat in the kitchen. Ghosts faded in and out around him, with bursts of static electricity that would pop and crackle, like moths fluttering around a bug zapper. David could feel them getting stronger. Cassy’s ghost reached out and touched him on the shoulder.
“Leave me alone!” he shouted. He got up and stormed into the dining room. The little-girl ghost was at the table.
“Don’t be mad, Daddy,” she pleaded.
“I’m not your daddy,” he said, continuing past her and to the stairs. The father of the ghost family was standing guard by the front door.
“He won’t get in,” he said.
“I said leave me alone!”
Shannon’s ghost appeared on the stair landing. “I’m here now too, David.”
David pushed past her and ran up the stairs into his bedroom. There were no ghosts in there; maybe they’d decided to give him some space.
He climbed into bed and pulled the sheets over his head. He fell asleep almost immediately. His dreams were strangely peaceful.
The next morning, the ghosts were gone from the house and David went next door to talk to Gus. Over coffee, David told him about his theory and the things he had seen in his hypnosis session with Gary.
“Still, how do you know the images in the hypnosis session weren’t a dream or something?” Gus said.
“Some of the images that flashed before my eyes were of Fitz and Cassy. I didn’t meet either of them until well after my laser treatment.”
“I’ve read that in hypnosis, the past and present images get all mixed up. It’s why they can’t use it in court testimony. Those images you saw in a trance might not have been the same ones you had on the operating table.”
“I agree except….”
“Except what?”
“Cassy says Fitz is being groomed by his party to make a run for the presidency. Maybe in 2028.”
“Damn.” Gus thought a moment. “Well, if he wins, we’ll know the visions are true.”
“And then it will be too late. He’ll be surrounded by a full secret service detail, even just as a major candidate.”
Gus looked David in the eye.
“You’re not thinking of doing anything crazy, are you?”
“What if you had the chance to stop Osama Bin Laden before 9/11. Wouldn’t you?”
“David, what are you planning to do?” Gus asked sternly.
“Campaign really hard for his opponent.”
Gus laughed, “Oh, okay.”
“I mean, we don’t have to kill him. We just have to make sure he doesn’t become president.”
“2028 is years away. We have some time to figure out a plan,” Gus said. They clinked their coffee cups together in a toast and drank.
“What about Kang, though?” Gus said. “We don’t have any control over who becomes president in China. You don’t suppose the ghosts are doing the same thing to someone overseas?”
“I’ll ask them next time I see them,” David said.
* * *
David redirected his energy into researching Congressman Fitz on the internet, looking for anything that could be used to sabotage his campaign. There was a lot there, but none of it had disturbed his conservative base enough to not vote for him.
Fitz had cheated on two wives. Didn’t divest stock that was a conflict of interest. Had some trouble with the IRS for not paying back taxes. There were many social media posts where he expressed racist and misogynistic views, but those got him as many likes from his base as dislikes from everyone else.
Just what is it going to take to tarnish this guy? David thought.
His phone chimed. A text from Cassy.
Can you come to my apt and help move a couch?
He texted back, On my way.
This is good, he thought. He wished he could just talk to her about Fitz, tell her what the ghosts had told him, but he knew it would make him sound crazy. But he might be able to appeal to her sense of ethics. Why was she representing this guy who was an obvious racist and probably worse?
On the other hand, if she continued to be his publicist, there might be an opportunity to get some dirt on Fitz that could cause him to drop out of the race. This guy surely had even more skeletons still in his closet.
David took a taxi to her building. He was at the door to Cassy’s apartment, about to knock, when he saw an orange glow out of the corner of his eye. He wheeled around. The burning ghost was coming toward him.
“Gary?” David asked. “Is that you?”
The ghost swerved around him and went through the door, disappearing into Cassy’s apartment.
Or is it a demon? he thought. Panicked, David started to pound on the door, yelling, “Cassy! Cassy!”
No answer, even though she was expecting him. Was the ghost stopping her? He took a step back and kicked the door until it broke from its frame. He ran inside.
The ghost was nowhere to be seen, just a frightened Cassy coming out of her bedroom in a bathrobe.
Her mouth hung open as she looked from David to the broken door. “David, what is wrong with you?”
Before he could explain, someone rushed past Cassy from the bedroom. It was Fitz, in his underwear. He was brandishing a lamp as a weapon.
“What’s going on? Should I call 911?”
David couldn’t speak. He just stood and blinked at the sight of Fitz, mostly naked except for a pair of tighty-whiteys.
His mind was whirling. With him? Doesn’t she know what he is? Is it all fake? Are they working together to drive me insane?
“I’m calling the police,” Fitz said, disappearing back into the bedroom for his phone.
“Max, don’t!” Cassy called after him. “Just give me a minute.”
“You and him?” David said, embarrassed to hear his voice shaking. “Why did you text me to come over here? Just to rub my face in it?”
“I didn’t text you,” she said, pulling her robe tighter around her. “David, I never said we had an exclusive relationship. I thought you were seeing other people too. Why did you break my door down?”
“I…I thought you were in danger,” David said. “I smelled smoke. You weren’t coming to the door.” It sounded better than, I saw a burning ghost go into your apartment.
A crowd of tenants had gathered in the hallway and were looking into the apartment.
“It’s okay,” Cassy said to them. “Just a misunderstanding. I’m fine. Please, go back to your apartments.”
David’s feeling of paranoia gave way to shame and embarrassment. Pulling together as much dignity as he could muster, he said, “I’m sorry. Please let me know how much I owe you for repairs.” He somehow managed to stop himself from running out, just pushed his way past the tenants and took the stairs down so he wouldn’t have to stand there waiting for the elevator with everyone watching him.
He made it outside just as the police were arriving at the building. He tried to look as casual as possible as he walked to a bus stop.
A bus was just pulling up as the police entered the building, and he got on without even checking whether it was the right route.
He breathed a sigh of relief as the bus pulled away.
The ghosts tricked me, he thought. They texted me. They wanted me to find them together. They wanted me angry enough to kill Fitz.
As he rode his bus to nowhere, his phone chimed with another text from Cassy. He hoped it was real this time.
I sent the police away. Said you smelled smoke. I won’t be pressing charges. Let me know if you want to talk. It ended with three heart emojis.
He wanted to ignore it, to ignore her. But he knew she would have been justified in having him arrested, so he texted Thanks. Sorry, I feel like an idiot. I understand we weren’t exclusive, and ended his text with an embarrassed emoji face.
Let’s talk about us soon, she texted.
OK, he texted. He had a quick internal debate about ending the text with a smiley face, but decided against it. There was no guarantee that conversation was going to be pleasant.
He didn’t feel like going home and dealing with the ghosts. The bus did swing through his neighborhood on the far side of the park, so he got off and went for a walk to clear his head.
His phone rang. It was Professor Lembeck.
“Hello, David. I’ve done some more research on these vengeful spirits. I think I might have a way to disconnect them from you.”
David had never wanted anything more. It was time they stopped ruining his life. Couldn’t they haunt a professional mercenary to take out Fitz? For that matter, couldn’t they haunt Fitz himself and drive him crazy? Ah, but I’m the one with a hole in my brain, he thought.
You could put a hole in Fitz’s brain, a dark part of himself answered.
David agreed to meet Lembeck at the house the next day to hear more about what he had discovered about a similar haunting of a man who had survived Hiroshima.
One way or another, this has to end.