Chapter Text
Chapter One
Spirt Road, a long stretch of road behind Riverwood. Locals called it Spirit Road because of the stories about ghosts that haunted the trees that were on either side of the road. There were many stories of women standing on the side of the road, waiting to get inside their victims' cars. Another was about how, at around 2 in the morning, if a car broke down, the sound of children’s laughter could be heard from outside.
Thirty minutes outside the town was the Starside Motel. It was the only thing that accompanied the road. The red vacancy always flickered; the owner never saw the need to fix it. But it didn’t matter, there were always rooms available. The only people who visited the place were people having some affair, hookers who needed a place to work, or a random group of teenagers who wanted a place to get wasted.
Well, there were also the families who got lost and didn’t know Riverwood was 45 miles away.
The sound of a car door slamming made Duncan look up from the front desk. It was nearing midnight, and the sound of rain increased when the door opened. It was a guy.
“Need a room?” Duncan asked the obvious as he looked back at the old porn mag that he had found a week ago.
“Uh, no,” the man said. “Do you have, like, a map?”
“Lost?” Duncan still didn’t look up, his finger pointing at the small table that held the maps. He didn’t feel the need to tell him that they hadn’t been touched since the invention of GPS.
And that was the only bit of action that he got since he got there. The man grabbed the map and left. Duncan could have just told him to keep driving until they saw the turn that led into Riverwood, but he didn’t get paid to care about people outside the motel.
The front desk phone rang. His bored eyes went from a blonde center fold to the phone. It was some ancient thing from the 90s, and he was deciding if he wanted to ignore it. No one called the desk at night unless they stayed there, and Duncan really didn’t want to deal with a bitchy mistress that didn’t understand that shit guys pay the shit motel rates.
By the fifth ring, he picked it up.
“Yeah?” He asked, eyes back on some no-name from the 80s.
The day manager told him to always say his name, then the motel's name, and a very cheerful, ‘How can I help you?’ But Duncan didn’t do that. Frankly, he never saw the need to. Who would call the place past 12 o’clock? The bigger, better places to stay were in town.
Slurred speech came through the phone, “You don’t sound like Geoff.”
It was a woman, and she sounded absolutely wasted. Duncan finally had something to do.
“That your ex?” He asked her as he got to the last page of the magazine.
There was a rustling sound on the other line, and he could only guess it was because she almost slipped. There was a whiny curse before she talked again.
“Can you give Bridgette the phone?”
He sighed, it would only be interesting if she thought she drunk called an ex. Was Bridgette the new girlfriend?
“Who do you think you called?”
“Geoff, Bridgette isn’t answering.” He could hear her thoughts as she mumbled about sitting down. She addressed him again. “Are you one of Geoff’s little friends?”
She said it with so much judgment that he let out a huff of a laugh. He leaned against the chair, his back blending into the old green mesh.
“Sure,” he said, his eyes now on the brown stain on the ceiling. “So what’s up?”
“Can you go find Bridgette?”
He looked around the foyer of the motel. “She’s not here.”
“Just go do it! Jesus, how hard is it to find her?”
She was angry now. He smirked, drunk and agitated was perfect.
“You sound hot. What’s your name?”
“Oh, fuck off,” she sighed.
“That’s an unfortunate name, Fuck Off, mine's Duncan.” When he heard her say she was hanging up, he quickly added. “So, why don’t you have Geoff’s number? You in love with him?”
“I’d rather kill myself than fall for that guy. Besides, he has to earn his name in my contact list, thank you very much.”
“Come on, the guy has some good qualities.” He lied, Geoff could have been an ass for all he knew, but having her argue her stance would keep her on the line longer.
“Just because he’s friendly doesn’t mean he deserves to have his name in my phone,” she told him. There was a pause, and she continued. “So, plead his case until you find Bridgette.”
Very hard to do that, but Duncan constantly bullshitted his way through life, and she was drunk, so it could be easy.
“He makes Bridgette happy,” he said, but she quickly answered.
“Any idiot can make their girlfriend happy, next.”
“Funny?”
She sounded frustrated as she asked. “Why is that a question?”
“I get it, you’re in lesbian love with Bridgette.”
“I don’t know who you are, Duncan.” He laughed at the way she said his name, like it was fake or something. She talked louder, to get through his laughter, “But I’m going to find out who you are-,”
“If you’re about to say and kill me, I’m just letting you know now that that is illegal.” He grinned at the little whine she let out.
She didn’t respond. Instead, he just heard something akin to a sob.
“Are you seriously crying?”
“You won’t let me finish!” She snapped at him.
He was going to tell her that she was being a baby, but she continued. Through her sobs, she complained, “First, I had a shit date, then I got lost, and now some ass isn’t letting me finish my threat!”
The whine in her voice made his skin itch. On a regular day, that would have pissed him off; frankly, it pissed him off right then, but he powered through that. How did a drunk, lost girl become his responsibility?
“What buildings do you see?” he asked, eyeing his dead phone. He forgot to charge it, and it went black two hours into his shift. He moved his attention to the dated maps. Did he need to whip that thing out?
Wait, he thought as he read over Ontario, what if she wasn’t even in town? What if she was in Vancouver or something? He only went there once in his early twenties.
“There are no buildings, just trees,” she told him, then her drunk brain kicked in full gear with her shouting, “A park! I’m in a park!”
“Shit,” he cursed as he pulled the phone away from his ear. “Hold on.”
He put it down and walked over to the maps. He picked up Ontario and the local map. Fuck, he should have brought his charger. If she was somewhere else, she was screwed.
“All right,” he said, picking the phone up again. “First, what town are you in?”
His hands went to open the local map, hoping that she would say it.
“Riverwood.”
He sighed in relief as he opened it up. “What park?”
Nothing.
Agitation was back. “Bitch, I’m trying to help you. The least you can do is answer.”
“Thought I saw something,” she mumbled, her slurred speech made it slightly difficult to understand. “It’s Oakshade.”
“No need for a map then,” he said as he sat down, “I have a friend close to the area, she should still be awake. Have to hang up to call her though, so you’ll be without my voice for-,”
She hung up. He still had a grin as he called Gwen up.
There were several rings before she answered.
“What?” She sounded annoyed.
“Don’t know why you're pissed, but you need to go to Oakshade and pick up some drunk girl.” He needed to get straight to the point. He needed to call her back.
“You have the car, jackass.”
“Thank god you have legs, or we would be screwed,” he told her as he thought about the random woman in the woods.
“Why am I going to go out in the rain to get this drunk?”
“Because feminism and shit. I already told her that you were going to do it, so how about we skip over you being a bitch, and you just go there.”
She let out an annoyed sigh. “Freaking fine. Where in the park is she?”
“Didn’t ask.”
“I will call a cab and go to that shitty motel and punch you. Do you know how big that park is? Is she near the playground or the walking trail?”
“Bye, Gwen.” He hung up, oddly giddy to call her back. He stopped as his finger went to the 6.
Fuck! He forgot to get her number!
The phone rang right when he put it down. He quickly answered it.
“Yeah?” He sounded more rushed that time.
The familiar, slightly slurred and judgmental voice came, “Is she coming?”
“Yeah, she’s coming. It might take her a bit. Do you know where you are in the park?” he asked, but he didn’t want to call Gwen back. Let her go on the hunt. It would give him more time to talk to her. Play up this bastardized version of some white knight.
“Under the green rest area that one of the scouts made.”
“That shitty excuse for a gazebo? That’s a little far into the trail.”
“It’s keeping me dry.”
“So what’s your real name, Fuck Off?” He asked, she made a noise, and he continued. “Come on, I think I earned a real name. I’m calling for reinforcements to come and get you.”
“Fine,” she said with such curtness that he rolled his eyes. How could a name be that big of a deal? “It’s Courtney. Courtney Flores.”
She said that with niceties that were preprogrammed in there when her parents were installing her polite introductions. He wasn’t the biggest fan of that, but he got her name.
“Well, Courtney, I must warn you, Gwen is a bit of a bitch, so be prepared for that.”
“Is she a bitch, or are you just annoying?”
“Bit of both.” He mused, maybe he could ask for her number now while she had her guard down. For the most part, that is. She probably wouldn’t put his phone number in, but it could be interesting to call her up on a random Thursday.
“Are you Gwen?” Courtney called out.
That made something go down his neck. “Gwen shouldn’t be there by now. I don’t even think she left the apartment.”
“Wait, I know you!” She let out a gasp. Her voice got to a chipper, drunk octave. “Never mind Duncan, you can call Gwen back and tell her that I have a ride.”
He tried to argue, but she hung up. He got pissed that time. Fine, she found a ride. Wasted his time.
He called Gwen back up and told her to forget it. The rest of his shift was spent eating the stale chips from the vending machine and randomly glaring at the phone or the maps that he took out.
He fell asleep at some point. The phantom sound of the door opening made him jerk up. If it was the day manager, he would get the most annoying lecture. He wouldn’t be fired, of course; that was the plus side of working a shitty job at a motel, as long as you didn’t do something illegal, they wouldn’t fire you.
It wasn’t the day manager. It was a woman. She didn’t look like she should be there. Black dress, dark sheer tights, and dark red heels. Her hair and makeup were perfectly placed. Something in the back of his brain came up with random reasons as to why something was wrong; the loudest one, for some reason, was that it was too cold and damp outside not to wear a coat.
The rain had stopped, and the sun started to light the pavement. He looked at the clock that was above the maps. It was almost 7:30.
He yawned, right hand rubbing against his face to try and wake up. His voice was rough from sleep, “You lost?”
“Where am I?”
“You are half an hour out from Riverwood.” He removed his hand from his face, ready to see if she came closer to the desk. She wasn’t there.
Was he still half asleep? He stood up and looked over the desk, as if she had hidden from his view. Nothing.
“Fuck, I need some sleep,” he grumbled.
The motel door opened, and he was prepared to see her again, but it was the day manager, Greg. Duncan just waved and went to the back. He just needed to sign out. End his shift and go home.
Warm air hit his ear.
“Where am I?”
He quickly turned around. No one. Usually in movies, when there was a haunt, the person would be scared. Breathing heavy as they tried not to be in fear of something they couldn’t see. Duncan had never been in that situation until then, and he wasn’t scared. No heavy breathing, just confused.
Maybe one of the ghosts from the road came inside for a room? He almost laughed; the tired deliriousness almost got to him. What a lame thing to laugh at.
He walked out from the back and grabbed his jacket.
“See ya,” Duncan called to Greg as he pushed the door open.
He looked around the parking lot. The same two cars were in there. His and Greg’s. No good-looking ghost car that would be owned by some fancy spirit.
Tragic too, because she was hot, he thought as he got into the car. It was an old, faded brown van. The heater randomly stopped working, and he had been putting it off since late April, but they were about to hit the colder part of October, and he really needed to start defrosting the thing.
He didn't fix the rearview mirror from the last time Gwen drove it. He saw his backseat for a second before he turned his music up. Loud. He needed the base to vibrate his bones to keep him awake. As the song changed, he lit his after-work cigarette and rolled the window just an inch.
He drove down the road. He just had to tell himself that if he sped, then he could be in the town limits in fifteen minutes.
“You’re going too fast!” Something shouted in his ear.
He cursed, cigarette almost dropping out of his mouth as he swerved from the left lane back to the right. He couldn’t stop, he was going too fast. Who was in his car? He was breathing heavy as he looked in his rearview mirror, ready to threaten whoever decided to hitch a ride.
Nothing. Just random bits of trash in the back seats. His stomach dropped. Did that shitty coffee at the motel get laced with something?
“Do you mind turning it down?” the voice asked again, tone loud enough to be heard over the screaming vocals.
His eyes darted to the passenger seat. The woman from earlier was there. She glared at the speakers as her hands covered her ears.
Duncan couldn’t form words. His brain was going a mile a minute, and sooner or later, it was going to hit a brick wall. He was drugged. He had to have been drugged. What hallucinogenic drug could have been put into the shared coffee pot? Did Greg drug him?
No. He’d done LSD and shrooms before, and salvia that one time; this was nothing like that.
Her attention went away from the speakers and to the road. “Watch out!”
His brain swerved away from the brick wall just in time to look through the windshield to see a deer running across the road. He didn’t slow down, maybe the deer wasn’t there. The deer was able to run into the woods a second before he drove over where it once was.
His brain hit another wall a second later, and he blanked all the way to his apartment complex. He was just tired. Yeah. All he had to do was sleep, and she’d leave.
“You live here?”
Why couldn’t his brain break and give him someone who wasn’t such a bitch? He ignored her and got out. She was right behind him as he walked to the entrance.
“You aren’t going to lock it?”
“Right.” He didn’t stop walking, clicking the key two times to hear the distinct beep of his car. It was loud and begging to be put out of its misery.
He walked inside and went up the stairs. He wanted to look at her. The part of the brain that kept yelling at him that something was behind him. But he persisted, refusing to acknowledge her and her judgment.
“Does your landlord know about the water damage? What about the stains on the carpet? You know you can sue for this, right?” she said, nagging all the way until he got to the third floor, the top floor.
Even in the hallway to his apartment, she still commented about mold.
Was there a story about a ghost hitching a ride with someone and then following them home? Duncan thought as he pulled the keys out of his jacket pocket. Yeah, that had to be it. Some spirit decided to stalk him.
He was about to put the keys in, but stopped. What would happen if he went inside? Would she make herself at home in their apartment?
“So, what’s your deal?” he asked it.
He finally stared at her, this time his expression bored. He didn’t want to show too much emotion, it might make the ghost want to stay.
“My deal?” she repeated.
“Yeah, why are you following me? Succubus about to give me the best sex of my life before you kill me?”
She looked smug as she crossed her arms. She had nerve for a being that couldn’t open a door. “Please, if I were a succubus, I wouldn’t pick you. You’re so not my type.”
“Okay, then what? You die on that road and decided to hitch a ride to civilization.”
“I didn’t die. This is a dream. Though usually my dreams aren’t this,” she trailed off as she looked around. “Tragic.”
So a ghost that didn’t know she died.
“Hate to burst that bubble, but this isn’t a dream,” he told her as he finally opened the front door.
“Of course you would say that, dream people don’t like it when you point out that it’s a dream,” she told him, so matter-of-fact that it felt almost familiar.
“If it’s a dream, then take us somewhere else,” he suggested, eyes scanning to see if Gwen fell asleep on the couch again. Not this time. “A beach, one of those topless ones.”
He got to the kitchen, he only had some vending machine snacks, and he wanted something more filling than chips. He opened up the fridge. Gwen didn’t go to the store like she said she would. She’d probably say something about not having the car, but the last he checked, she could walk the ten minutes to Walmart.
They only had beer and milk. Fine, he could have cereal.
He saw that the ghost woman had sat on the counter. She had her eyes closed.
“What are you doing?” he asked as he took out a bowl. She was in front of where they kept the cereal.
“Trying to take us to the beach,” she said, only to add with emphasis. “A normal beach.”
“Whatever,” he said. His hand went through her and to the cabinet. His entire hand was cold. Like little tiny icicles hitting his skin. He ignored it and opened it up.
She still looked solid. Whatever, that was fine; he could just pick at random. He pulled out the off-brand cereal. Damn. He wanted the other one.
He put his hand back inside her. “Don’t you feel that?”
“All I feel is annoyance,” she grumbled. “Don’t distract me, I’m trying to get us to the beach.”
“Open your eyes, we’re there.”
“Oh, good.” She let out a pleasant sigh and opened her eyes. She didn’t see the beach, only Duncan’s hand in her chest. “What are you doing!”
He blinked, and she was beside him.
“I’m about to have something to eat,” he told her. He poured the cereal into the plastic bowl and looked at her, “Sadly, you can’t have anything anymore on account that you died.”
“I’m not dead!” she told him. “Why would I haunt you to begin with?”
“Low standards?” He shrugged and began to eat. She could bitch at him all she wanted; the off brand fruity pebbles tasted great. Well, not as great as the name brand, but it was better than whatever he got from the motel's vending machine.
“Why are you talking to yourself like some weirdo?” Gwen’s tired voice made him look away from the ghost.
“Some dead chicks haunting me,” he said, mouth full of food.
“Right,” she said. She didn’t believe him by the tone of her voice and the look on her face. “Tell your friend that she can’t stay here unless she pays rent.”
“Oh, no, I would never stay here. Pretty sure your place has mold.” The ghost said that insult with a smile.
“She can’t hear the insults. You’re just saying the same shit to me,” he corrected her.
“Stop talking with your mouth full, it’s gross,” Gwen told him. “Think you sprayed me with your spit.”
Duncan didn’t retort to that, he just ate his food, his mind now on thoughts of going to sleep and waking early enough to force Gwen to get him something to eat. She didn’t have work, so there would be no reason for her to complain about a long day.
He looked back at the ghost, and she had her eyes closed again.
“You still trying to get to the beach?”
“Beach?” Gwen asked as she finished staring at the almost empty fridge.
“Ghost thinks she’s dreaming.”
“I am!” she said, eyes open now. “I’m trying to wake up! Never met a more boring pair of dream people in my life.”
He saw a bit of Gwen’s face from the corner of his eye. He looked away from the ghost and saw the look she gave him. There was slight concern there.
“What?”
“You’re being weird,” she said. She didn’t look away from him. “Did working on that haunted road finally fry your brain?”
“Don’t know,” he said simply as he shrugged.
The spoon scraped the bottom of the bowl as he ate the last piece. Gwen was still staring at him.
“Did you hit your head?”
“No.”
“Drugged?”
“My first thought, but also no way. The only thing I felt was a spike of adrenaline when she whispered in my ear.”
The ghost rolled her dark eyes. “Oh, don’t make it sound weird.”
“Think she has a thing for me,” he told Gwen before he drank the remaining milk.
He didn’t see the ghost, but he heard her protesting. It was loud and shrill.
The upper light flickered.
They both looked up at the light. Their apartment was old, so the lights flickering on and off was normal enough that Gwen sighed.
“Do you have a secret family member that’s schizophrenic?”
“The only thing the Murphy men have is anger issues and nicotine addictions.” There was a pause. “My nan on my mother’s side says that my uncle Garry is suffering from the ‘homosexual disease.’”
“Dude, I’m serious,” she told him. “I need to know if I have to call a professional. Normal people don’t just start seeing ghosts.”
“Jeez, I thought you’d be ecstatic. You love this shit.”
“Just because I love this shit doesn’t mean I want my roommate to come home sounding insane. What’s the carbon monoxide situation at your work?”
“Oh, she makes a good point, but you would have seen more signs of the poisoning before now.” The ghost pointed out.
“What?” Gwen asked when she noticed he was staring at the ghost.
“She says that there would have been earlier signs if it was carbon monoxide.”
Duncan hated how, once he started talking to the ghost, it felt normal. Maybe there was something wrong with him. Normal people didn’t feel comfortable talking to people who weren’t there.
“What’s her name?”
Duncan's remark was sarcastic as he put the bowl. “It’s bad to play into my delusions.”
The ghost didn’t seem to mind. He looked up to see her hand outstretched for him to take. She smiled, a little smug for a greeting.
“My name's Courtney Flores.”
Duncan became cold as his stomach dropped. It was the same confident tone. The drunken voice from last night repeated the words, as if his mind really needed to confirm it. He must have looked wrong because both the ghost and Gwen spoke at the same time.
“Are you okay?” Courtney’s question was a classy response.
“You going to hurl?” Gwen took a step away from him.
No. Was this his brain finally making him crazy? It came up with the last name he heard and brought up a ghost. He racked his brain to try and figure out if this was some stress-induced hallucination, but even then, that seemed unlikely. He didn’t stress that much; he put that off on Gwen as he went through life not caring.
Then was she a ghost?
“Jesus, Duncan, say something because you’re freaking me out!” Gwen yelled. He could feel her hand on his shoulder.
He didn’t look away from Courtney. She looked confused. Her brows soon furrowed in thought.
“Duncan,” she spoke. “Why does that sound familiar?”
What would happen to the ghost if she found out she died? Would she become the tormenting kind, haunting Duncan for the rest of his life, blaming him for not saving her? Or would she just fade into nothing?”
He took in a deep breath before he brought out his pack of cigarettes. Fuck it. She was a ghost, and he had to set her soul to rest or whatever. He lit up in the apartment, and he ignored Gwen. She sounded frustrated, but her words didn’t reach him.
The nicotine calmed him. That was familiar.
“We need to go to Oakshade,” he told them, breathing the smoke onto the ghost.
Strange, he thought that maybe it would mix with her. Instead, it went around her like she was there.
Gwen’s hand squeezed his arm, her nails digging into him.
“You see her?” he asked, ignoring how she might tear through his only jacket.
“Holy fuck.” Gwen whispered. He felt a small grin; he wasn’t insane. She let go of him, running past Courtney and out of the kitchen. “Let me get my coat!”
“Oakshade,” Courtney repeated the name. “That sounds familiar. I’ve never been to this part of town. So why..”
Before she could remember anything, Duncan put his hand on her shoulder. It went through her, but he kept it there.
“If this is a very vivid dream, that means you’ve been here before, right?”
She stared at him. She didn’t say anything; she was gone.
Duncan looked around, quickly trying to find her. He checked the living room when Gwen got out of her bedroom. She had changed into what she wore yesterday.
“Okay, I’m ready! What are you looking around for?”
“I think she got scared off,” he told her as he quickly looked into her and then his room. He called to the house as he went to the front door. “Fuck it, listen Courtney, we’re going to Oakshade, so you better use those ghostly powers to be in my car by the time we get downstairs!”
“What’d you say?” Gwen asked as they ran down the stairs.
“Nothing!”
“Doubtful,” Gwen chided him as she got to the apartment building's front door.
She almost knocked over an old man as she ran out. Duncan ignored the glare as he went after her.
No one was in the car. Fine. They didn’t need her to find the body. If they found her body, she’d be on the news, and he could show her in technicolor.
It only took them three minutes to get to Oakshade Park. It was early enough that only a few cars were parked there.
“I remember that sign.” A familiar ghostly voice spoke.
Duncan jumped, hands tightening around the steering wheel.
“Fuck!” he yelled at her, making Gwen jolt up.
“What?” she yelled back.
Courtney was between the seats, her shoulders disappearing into the sides.
“Stop doing that!” He ignored the annoyed look Gwen gave him as he gave the same look at Courtney. “I thought you stayed back at the apartment.”
“You said you were leaving,” she said, simple as her form soon wasn’t there anymore.
He looked to see that she was outside the car. She walked over to the sign, welcoming parkgoers to Oakshade. Duncan knew the park well enough to know that there were multiple places that she could be. The park was a bit hilly in certain areas, making it easy to twist an ankle and fall into the trees.
Something in the back of his mind came up with a word. Murder. The realization made his neck feel clammy, like he was being choked. He continued to watch her as he tried to move his body.
“You said she saw someone she knew, right?” Gwen’s voice brought him out.
“Yeah.” He finished his cigarette before he put the rest out in his cupholder.
“I’ll be the one to call the police if we find a body.”
“Cool.”
And they were out of the car. The exciting adventure got heavy, and Duncan wanted another cigarette.
They walked to the sign. Courtney heard the sound of a car door slamming, and she moved her attention to it. It was quick enough that Duncan could see the slight fear. She covered it up quickly before she looked at them.
“Her shirt's wrinkled.” Courtney finally observed. “It’s not for the park.”
“She’ll be fine,” Duncan told her before he walked past her.
“What’d she say? Is she concerned about me?”
“She says your shirt's wrinkled,” Duncan told her.
“It’ll be fine,” she said, eyes in the general direction of Courtney.
Duncan slowed his walking. He waited for Courtney to go first. If she had any memory, no matter how small, she might be able to lead them to her body. Knowing or unknowingly.
That morning wasn’t like yesterday. There was no overcast, the sun was out and bright. The bugs had left during the cold front earlier last week. Her body wouldn’t be as..
He didn’t think this through.
Courtney stopped, and she looked down into the trees. A soft drop-off that went down a 30-degree angle. The cement of the walkway chipped off at the sides, easy to trip and fall when it was dark. Easy for the rain to make you fall. Only the elements that could kill her that weren’t from someone.
“Do you remember this place?” he asked her, staring into the forest floor.
She reached out to touch a tree. Her hand went through it. He leaned closer, and where her hand was, there were pieces of bark that came off.
Gwen didn’t stand by waiting for them to finish. He could hear her walk down the small hill and into the woods.
“Are you going to answer me or just stare at the tree?” he asked, annoyed that he didn’t get a response.
“I’m thinking!” she snapped at him. She brought her hand away and crossed her arms. “This dream is starting to get annoying. Usually, dreams can give me false memories, but this one is so tedious to think about.”
She continued to stand there, a scowl on her face as she tried to remember. Duncan saw something behind her. A poorly made green gazebo. It was so close. She must have died right when he got off the phone with her.
He broke out in a sweat; he desperately wanted to take off his jacket to feel the cold breeze.
“Found something!” Gwen’s voice made both of them jerk their attention to her.
Duncan didn’t look at Courtney as he began to walk toward Gwen. “Stay up here.”
She didn’t say anything, and he hoped that meant she agreed. He saw Gwen bent down, hands in the dead, wet leaves. Courtney was right beside her. She still had her arms crossed as she observed. He couldn’t help but glare.
“I said to stay up there.”
“Dream people don’t give me orders,” she told him. She didn’t look away from Gwen as she stood up.
“Found a necklace. Looks expensive.” Gwen held up the necklace, but Duncan wasn’t paying attention to her; he could look away from Courtney.
She didn’t look frustrated over her dream world not making sense. Instead, she looked at her chest.
“I was wearing a necklace,” she whispered, astounded by the realization. She instantly looked up, eyes catching his. “That’s my necklace.”
She didn’t keep them there as she quickly looked away from him and around the forest floor. If a ghost could breathe quickly, she probably would be hyperventilating. Her frantic eyes spotted something.
Just when she disappeared, Gwen asked, “So does she think it’s hers?”
“Yeah,” he said as he walked. He kept an eye out for Courtney. “If a ghost found out they died, what would the outcome be?”
“They pass over or get stuck,” she told him before she brought the pendant closer to her face. “I think it’s real gold.”
Duncan snatched it. He had his doubts that it was made with pure gold. The chain was gold and thin, but that wasn’t what she meant. The gold, heart-shaped pendant shined up at him even when it was caked with dirt.
He brought out his lighter. No way that hunk of a thing was real. The flame hit the outer rim of the heart. It didn’t burn. He continued to have the flame lick at it, now almost transfixed by it.
“Will you knock it off?” Gwen sighed as she took the necklace back. She ignored his glare. “The ghost girls rich. Do you think we’ll get a reward for finding her body?”
“We’ll be lucky if they don’t think we did it,” he said, eyes still looking for Courtney's brown hair.
“You are an easy target with your record.”
“It’s cute how you think I won’t take you down with me. Plus, I have an alibi. You live ten minutes away and have an interest in the paranormal.” He moved around some roots, a small grin on his face as he noticed the annoyed look she gave him. “Think they’ll go with the Satanic Panic excuse for you?”
Gwen stopped. “Is your ghost still MIA?”
Duncan looked around. He still couldn’t find her. Did she finally realize that she was dead and pass over?
“Good, because I might throw up if we find her body,” Gwen told him. She breathed in several times. ”Wet and musty, probably smells super bad.”
“The Scooby gang made it look easy,” he agreed. He continued to walk a few feet ahead. He looked around, still no sign of the dead body or Courtney. “We’ll be lucky if the wildlife didn’t eat her.”
There was something in the back of his mind that made his stomach twist. What if she didn’t die there? What if whoever she met up with killed her at their place? What if she died earlier that morning and her spirit went to find him?
No. That little pit of worry didn’t outweigh his gut reaction to check the park. The park would be an easier place for the body. A drunk girl gets lost in the forest, and when some doomed runner sees something in the trees and calls the police, it would be ruled as an accident.
He heard Gwen walk again. He turned to see that she wasn’t going to be by him, but further back. Back to where she found the necklace.
“What are you doing?”
“If she tripped, she would be closer to the path, right?” she said, and for some reason, he followed her back to square one. “So, I’m going to pretend to be Courtney. Super drunk, but even if I’m drunk, I would have survival instincts.”
Gwen took in a deep breath, and her limbs became more jelly-like. She was bringing out her one year of middle school theater.
“Oh no, don’t kill me,” she said. Her halfhearted acting made Duncan roll his eyes. She ran, in what he could only describe as sloppy.
“He would have gotten her if she ran like that,” he told her as he calmly walked behind her.
“Serpentine!” she yelled and made a hard left, just before she ran into a tree.
Duncan watched, hands in his pockets. He messed with his lighter. The doubt weighed more. What if the body wasn’t even there?
“Oh no! It’s dark, and I got super lost! I know! If I go straight, it eventually leads to the gas station. It’s long, but I’m fighting for my life! So I’m running!” Gwen didn’t stop her jelly limbs and her weird run.
“If she even went this way,” Duncan told her as he picked up his pace.
“I’m running and running and—,” Gwen fell face-first down a small incline.
Duncan started running, almost slipping on the wet leaves when he got close. He could hear the small groan of pain just as he got to the top of the incline. Gwen still groaned as she tried to move off her back. But Duncan stopped paying attention to her, because right beside her was a body. A very familiar body.
Gwen looked to her side, and the cursing died in her throat as she stared at Courtney. Then, a very loud gasp as she scrambled closer to her.
At first, he couldn’t hear her; the soft gasp of realization didn’t reach him. But the second sentence, he heard clearly as she let out a panicked yell, “She’s breathing!”
He ran down the hill as he jerked his phone out of his pocket. She wasn’t wearing a coat, and Duncan thought about how lucky they were that she didn’t die from hyperthermia. When he fell to his knees beside her, he saw something else. The orange leaves beside her head had something dark.
“Her head’s bleeding,” he said. He couldn’t believe it was his voice, way too calm for the situation. He thought that if he had experienced something like this, he would be yelling, relying on his need to be angry to take control. He took off his jacket and put it over her. Would that even help?
Gwen took off her black scarf and lifted her head. Like some pillow, the ground kept the pressure against Courtney's skull when she took her hand away.
He forgot about the plan of Gwen making the call. He didn’t remember until he was telling the dispatcher where they were in the park. The voice was from a woman, and she kept a calm cadence as she continued to ask questions. That was what made Duncan almost snap in anger.
“Where is my coat?” Courtney’s voice was beside him.
It was odd, she didn’t scare him this time. Even his anger went away. He reached the phone out for Gwen to take. He didn’t look away from Courtney, hoping that Gwen would catch the hint without him having to say he saw a ghost to the dispatcher.
He didn’t pay attention to whatever excuse she gave to the dispatcher about why it was her talking. She stood up and walked away.
“Where did you go?” His anger was back, but she was gone. He blinked, and for that fraction of a second, she decided to leave again. “Pissing me off!”
He yelled at the air, hoping that her corporeal form could hear him bitching. He could see Gwen glare at him while she talked to the dispatcher. He got off the ground and paced. He needed to calm down, he didn’t need a cop to tell him to calm down. Besides, who gets angry after finding a person on the brink of death?
Wait.
The shock of finding Courtney alive was wearing off because he started to think. His brain didn’t hit the wall like earlier. It was going over the speed limit as it fired on all cylinders. He could see it from his place at the bottom of the hill. There wasn’t anything on the ground that would cause the gash in the back of her head.
Something flashed in his mind for just a second. It was dark, and he saw her. She stopped at the top of the hill. She looked around, but it was too dark and too rainy to see anything properly. Someone was behind her, and another flash, and he could see a hand holding something rough. It was hard as it hit against the back of her skull, and then she fell down the hill.
Then he was back to where he was standing. He brought a hand to his right eye, he could feel a deep throbbing pain behind it.
What the hell was that?