GHOST HUNT

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                                                                                   GHOST HUNT

                                                                               By Janelle Caputo

Twenty Years Ago

“Give up kid,” Duncan Fletcher said, holding the boy upside down by his sneakers, “You lose.”

Still Jack kicked and screamed, writhing in Duncan’s grasp like a maniacal serpent. Eventually Duncan tossed him to the ground like a banana peel and stepped around him as if he were worth nothing more than trash. Jack looked up, his eyes filled with a sort of bravery that made Duncan want to kick him in the nose.

“Give her back,” Jack said slowly, enunciating each word with malice.

“Not until I get what I want,” Duncan negotiated, waving his arms in the air like a director of a horror movie, “You see, I need proof that this stuff really exists. A sample. A pawn.”

“Well you can’t have her,” Jack said, pushing himself to his feet, “That’s out of the question, and if you don’t hand her over right now I am going to have to kick your ass.”

Duncan laughed but his voice was lost in the empty field, swept away on the wind. It was the dead of night and the corn stalks just barely reached Jack’s knees. He knew that if he tried to run away he would be killed. If he did what he was told he would be killed and if he didn’t do something soon he would be killed.

His first priority was saving Z.

Duncan unhitched the safety on his revolver and held it casually to Jack’s temple as if it were a camera lens.

“You don’t want to do this Jack,” Duncan said, “You don’t want to push my buttons. I’m running out of patience.”

Duncan signaled to someone behind him and a group of men emerged from the trees like ninjas. Jack was suddenly reminiscent of old Saturday morning cartoons when the bad guys would dress in black and act like complete idiots while the good guys won. The good guys always won.

Duncan pressed the cold shaft of the revolver against Jack’s temple.

“Let her out.”

Jack watched as the men in black brought out a bag from behind them and untied it. It looked like a trash bag. The men held it upside down and emptied it at Jack’s feet.

Z rolled out like a bruised sack of flour. She shrieked as she hit the ground and held herself in a ball as she shivered and moaned. Every inch of her skin was covered in hundreds of lacerations, whole constellations of bruises that decorated her body in a sick pattern of purple and black splotches. Her hair was filthy and clung to her head in thick brown clumps and her eyes were squeezed shut.

Jack leaned down and stroked her face. When he did her eyes fluttered open and her hand lashed out to smack him, luckily Z had faster reflexes than he did and she recognized him just before her fist made contact with his cheekbone. Instead of punching him both of her arms went around him and he used this leverage to pull her to her feet.

“Jack, you came,” she whispered, her voice hoarse against his chest, “I’m so so sorry. Jack, I’m really sorry I-”

Jack stroked her hair and shushed her. He figured he had about three seconds before Duncan got really pissed off. He needed to buy some time.

“Jack-”

“Alright Duncan, I’m willing to propose a deal.”

“No deals, Jack,” Duncan smiled, showing off all of his shiny white teeth, “I’m the one calling the shots.”

Jack ignored him, “I’ll give you what you want, but Z goes free.”

Duncan considered this for moment, his hand stroked his fine brown goatee as he studied Jack and Z as if they were toys. He stretched his arms over his head, the bones in his elbows cracking as if someone had snapped two huge branches. He flexed his muscles. Duncan had about 15 years and a hundred pounds on Jack, who was a scrawny sixteen year old. He was barely taller than Z who was crouching from the pain in her legs. Standing at his full height Jack wasn’t bigger than 5’9’’, on a good day. Today was not a good day.

“No dice, Jack. We need the girl,” Duncan said maliciously, “You and I both know what she’s capable of.”

Jack was afraid of this. He quickly pulled Z in to him. Her head fit under his chin if she crouched and from this height he could just whisper in her ear.

“In three seconds Z, up and away.”

She shook her head violently, “I’m not leaving you, this is my-”

“I’ll be right behind you,” Z tensed in his arms, “I promise.”

She looked up at him, her cheeks stained with tears.

“No matter what happens, Jack, please come back to me,” she pleaded, and before he could say anything she leaned up and kissed him full on the lips. For a moment Jack didn’t care that he would probably die tonight. He deepened the kiss, pulling Z closer to him.

Duncan snapped behind them, “This is no time for this, lovebirds. Let’s get started-”

“One.” Jack said, squeezing Z’s hand. “Two.”

“Now Jack, open it right,” Duncan pointed in front of him, “here.”

“Three.”

Z’s hand left his as she flew in to the air, faster than a streak of light. One moment she was there, the next she was gone, tearing across the horizon like a flash of lightning.

“Damn it Jack, I told you what would happen if she got away!” Duncan roared as he lurched forward and pulled Duncan off his feet.

“Yeah, I would die.”

Jack pulled his foot back and kicked Duncan where it would hurt for a good long while. While Duncan fell to his knees, his face beat red, shouting at his men to shoot, Jack pelted across the field.

He scrambled in to the underbrush, knowing that soon Duncan’s men would be on top of him and then he would be dead.

Quickly he reached in front of himself, concentrating like mad until he found the edge of a rip. He tore it open in midair as if opening an invisible bag of chips and through the rip came a gust of icy air. So cold that it chilled him to the bone. He paused, knowing what would happen if he stepped through and what would happen if he didn’t.

He didn’t want to die in Duncan’s hands, he’d rather die on his own terms.

Without a second thought he stepped through the rip and slammed it closed behind him as cold air enveloped his entire body. The air seemed to reach in to his veins, his heart and his brain and clamp its icy hands on to them until they turned to ice.

Ten seconds later Jack’s body lay cold and unmoving in the Shadow Land while all around him corn stalks bloomed on a gorgeous Spring day.