“I beg you to be a touch more specific.”
The elevator pinged and the doors split open to the next floor. We stepped out into another shiny tile hallway and immediately began working our way past more refugees who were scattered around on the floor. All ages, all sizes, all shapes, and all colors were crowded together, trying to stay on the carpeted places but not altogether able to do so.
I hesitated when we reached the hall with Caroline’s door. There was a space around it like it was quarantined, or banned, or just plain smelled bad. I didn’t want to go back in. Not yet. Not without knowing.
“Keep talking,” I told Nick. “Tell me everything you can before I do this. I don’t want to talk to her again without knowing what I need to ask.” I hated myself because it came out so close to a whine. But I was tired, and she’d hurt me so much the last time. I didn’t want to go in there cold, not again.
Nicks eyes shifted back and forth, sweeping the floor and seeing no private place to speak, or even stand. “Hmm. Back into the elevator. Just for a minute.”
“What?”
“Not out here, in the hallway. Not here where people can hear.”
“Fine,” I said, and I even agreed. There’d be no point in scaring people silly who were already frightened and confused.
Back into the elevator we went, though we had to wait for it. Once inside, we let the doors close and Nick plugged his key in again, turning it and pressing a button that would lock us there.
He turned to face me, then leaned back into the corner and sat against the support rails there while he spoke. “It’s like this: I have no idea. I have to start with that. I’ve got a million and one questions, but I’m running short on answers.”
“That’s all right. Start with what you’ve got.”
“There are people coming out of the river—dead people. Some of them are wrapped in chains, and some of them are all blackened and wet, like they were burned and then soaked. They look like they dug their way out of hell and into the Tennessee River. So they’re wrapped up in these chains, and they’re using them as weapons, sometimes. They’re swinging them at people, using them like whips—” he made an Indiana Jones flip with his wrist. “And they’re pulling people under. They’re dragging people down.”
“And you saw this? You saw them?”
He nodded vigorously, as if by sheer sincerity he could convince me. “I saw one of them, more up close and personal than I would have liked. He was standing in knee-deep water over near the aquarium. I saw him, and he was huge—he was just insanely tall and black. Not black like a black person,” he clarified quickly, but changed his mind. “Or, I don’t know, maybe he was a black guy. It was hard to tell. He was all burned up, with his skin all cracked around the edges and this gray tissuey- looking stuff underneath, showing through in the places where the skin peeled away. And his eyes. Jesus. They were dead. I thought maybe he was just a crazy homeless nutter until I saw his eyes, under the streetlamp.”
“Okay,” I said, bobbing my head slowly, trying to think and finding the task difficult. “Okay. So the ghost of a burned-up dead guy.”
“No!” he said it loud, and quick. It startled me. “No, not a ghost. Caroline in there—” Nick pointed out towards the hall. “Caroline’s a ghost. I may not have ever properly seen one, but I’ve got an idea of what they’re supposed to look like, and that thing—that guy down by the river—he was no ghost.”
I thought about arguing with him, but I had a feeling it wouldn’t be worth my trouble.
“This was no ghost. This was something solid, something with real strength. It was a monster. It was swinging that big rusty chain and I could hear it creaking and wet, splashing around and crashing through windows. Ghosts don’t do shit like that. They can’t do shit like that, right? That’s what you always tell people. The dead can’t hurt you. The dead are just dead. They’re not anything to be afraid of. Well, I hate to tell you this, but those things out there, they’re dead. And they are going to kill everyone they can reach.”
He seemed to have run out of steam, so I took a deep breath and waited another beat, another second, just to be sure. “They,” I said slowly. “You said ‘they’—but you only saw one?”
“No, I saw two. But the other one, I didn’t realize what she was, not until I was up close to her. Not until I was right on top of her. I tried to help her. I thought she was in trouble.”
“So the other one’s a woman?”
“I don’t think you’re getting it.” He swore under his breath. “I could hear them, and I could see the shapes squirming up out of the water, wriggling out of the riverbed like turtles or eels or rats. I saw the girl because I tried to help her, because I didn’t know any better. She didn’t need any help, and she didn’t want any.”
“What did she want? What did this woman—”
“Not a woman,” he interjected. “A girl. A little girl, or not a very big one, anyway. She was maybe ten or twelve, tops. And half of her face was all burned away, and one of her arms, and maybe more of her. It was dark, though, and I didn’t see her in time to realize it.” He rubbed his hands together, squeezing his fingers tight, trying to think. “And, and, she was wearing a little yellow dress. I think it was yellow. It might have just been old and got yellowed-looking, like old clothes do. It had a pattern on it, once. Flowers, or maybe butterflies.”
“All right. Now we’re getting somewhere,” I said, even though I wasn’t sure. “You’re a news man. You’ve got a head for details. Give them to me. Tell me more, about what they were wearing and what they were doing.”
“That’s all I can think of.”
“No it’s not. Do your goddamn job, Nick. Report. Report to me. Call it like you saw it. Leave nothing out, because any little thing could help. What was the tall guy wearing? Did their clothes look like they fit any particular historical period? Did they say anything? Did they seem to be looking for something? Someone? What do they want?”
“I don’t know!” he nearly shouted, which was almost painful in the close space. “I don’t know,” he repeated, but I could see that the wheels in his head were turning, even as he denied it.
“Think,” I commanded, though the command was frail and needed a nap.
“I’m—I’m thinking the clothes looked old, but, Jesus, I couldn’t tell you how old. Maybe a hundred years? I didn’t see any women in hoop skirts or bustles, but then again, I didn’t see any women—just the girl and the man. Men’s clothes—it’s harder to tell. He was wearing pants, not jeans. And suspenders. I remember seeing a suspender hanging down, unhooked. The girl was just wearing a smock, you know. A little girl’s smock, one piece, with little buttons on the front. Yellow. And . . .” he closed his eyes. “And she wasn’t very dark-skinned, but I’m pretty sure she was black. Her hair was braided up like little girls do, you know. Or maybe it was just the burned-off skin showing through. Fuck, I don’t know.”
“Keep going, you’re doing good. What else?”
“What else? I got the impression they were looking for something. Well, my first impression was that they were crazed zombies bent on wreaking havoc, but now I think they were looking for something.”
“Something? Or someone?”
“Maybe. It’s hard to say. They were swinging chains and groaning.”
“Groaning? You didn’t mention any groaning. So they weren’t talking or anything?”
“No. Not talking, not exactly. Wheezing, maybe. Groaning, yeah. They didn’t make much noise. They were mostly breaking things and killing people. Everything else was making all the noise.”
I wiped a stray curl or two off my face and leaned back against the elevator wall opposite Nick’s spot. I slid down until I was sitting, and he did the same, mirroring my knees-up pose. “If they’re dead, they shouldn’t have these bodies left to manipulate. They shouldn’t be walking anywhere, not in flesh. You’re right and wrong about Caroline, though. She’s a ghost, but she’s got something funny about her, too. She’s got something in common with these things. She’s got physicality on her side, and I don’t know how or why.”
It was his turn to look confused. “Physicality? Like what?”
“Like she can move things. Interfere, and interact. Throw shit and break things,” I wound down. “I’ve never encountered that before. Before Caroline, all the dead folks I knew were just voices and shadows. They were leftovers, with no bodies left and no power to affect the physical world. But Caroline can. And those things you’re talking about, apparently they can. And assuming you’re right, and they’re dead, this is definitely a strange and bad thing.”
“You can always assume I’m right,” he said, and for a spark’s worth of a second, he was his old self.
“I wouldn’t go that far, but in a pinch, I’d trust your eyesight.”
He laughed, more because he was tired than because I was funny. “Hey, I’ll take it. Whatever I can get.”
“Stick around, and I’ll see if I can’t make you a better offer later on,” I said, and even as the words came out, I wasn’t sure if I meant them, or how I meant them. I was getting slap-happy from exhaustion, or that’s what I told myself.
“Holy shit, woman. Are you flirting with me?”
“I have no idea. Get me out of this box, you bastard. Let’s go see if Caroline feels like shedding any light on the situation.”
He hopped to his feet with a new kind of energy, and I followed suit. With a twist he removed the key and the doors slipped apart, letting us back into the hall and into the press of people trying to rest, or sleep, or just stay dry.
When we reached the door, Nick pulled out the plastic card that would let us in. He pointed at me with it and said, “This time, I’m coming with you.”
