Ghostly Apparitions (TomTord Fanfic)

Chapter 1

It had only been five days since the 'incident' occurred, so it was no surprise that Tom couldn't get it off of his mind. He hadn't heard anything from Tord since then- no one had. Sure, he expected that Tord would hate them all for destroying his robot and whatever, but why would he hate Edd and Matt? He was the one that exploded the robot in the first place. His friends didn't do anything.
   On the third day into getting comfortable in his new apartment, he got a bad feeling in his stomach. Everytime he thought of the incident, his mind oh jected the feeling of death around him. Tord could have survived that, right? He didn't hit him with that harpoon... right?

   On the fourth day, Tom decided to do some research on what explosions do to people. Since he was the smart guy of the group, he sketched out the robot and what it looked like, along with various places the engine could have been. In short, he thought the engine was behind Tord and that his harpoon didn't hit him, but the motor. After a few hours of calculating and sitting in the darkness of his aparatment at the crack of dawn, he concluded that Tord couldn't have survived the explosion. But he told himself that he faulted in places at the Tord was probably in some hospital, healing up.
   That night, when he fell asleep, he had a dream of the incident. He shot the harpoon at the robot, and then everything when black when the explosion occurred. When he woke up, he found himself on the floor in the middle of an endless black plane. He slowly got to his feet, but his chest burned. Like he was in the middle of having a heart attack. He got up, still, and looked around for anyone.
   "Hello...?" He called into the darkness. "Is anyone th-" he was cut off by him falling to his knees and his lungs erupting into a wild coughing fit. When he calmed down, something dropped down from his mouth. He slowly reached up and touched the substance, pulling his hand back. It was scarlet red, like blood. He looked down as the pain in his chest grew. His eyes went white as he found his own blue harpoon stuck in his chest. The speared top and a bit of the handle stuck out and were dripping with blood. He fell over, feeling the blood pour out of his body as he took deep gulps of air, trying to prevent himself from dying. He grabbed the harpoon suddenly, trying to pull it out, but as soon as his hands started to yank the thing out of him, red mist filled his eyesight and made him fall back over, like he was dead. His heart felt like it had stopped and his breathing ceased, but Tom felt like he was still alive. He tried to move, but a deep chuckle filled his ears. It's seemed familiar to him somehow.
   "Thomas..." A very familiar Norwegian accent cut through the chuckled as it echoed. The red haze grew stronger, making Tom only see the color of blood around him.
   "You. Will. Pay."

  
   On the fifth day, Tom woke up.