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    Ghosting

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      My heart starts pounding.

      Oh god.

      What have I done?

      MAXIE

      When Brendan sticks

      his gun

      up through the moonroof

      and deliberately lets off

      two shots,

      my whole body goes

      numb.

      The shots are loud,

      painfully

      deafeningly

      loud.

      I can see Felix’s lips move,

      but can barely hear

      the words.

      He reaches over

      and takes hold of my

      ice-cold hand.

      Put the gun away, Brendan, I hear Anil say through the buzzing in my ears.

      His voice is strong,

      level.

      Brendan swivels his head around

      to look back

      at Anil.

      What’s wrong, Paki? Did I scare you? he asks, voice mocking.

      Suddenly the door next to Felix

      opens

      and Chloe’s there.

      Her face is crumpled,

      wet with

      tears.

      I cut my foot, she says.

      I look down

      and see

      blood

      pooling up between

      her toes,

      covering the straps of

      her silvery sandals.

      Then comes

      the scream,

      and we all

      freeze.

      What the . . . Brendan breathes, clutching his gun tighter.

      Jesus, Felix says, dropping my hand. Emma . . .

      Felix is out the door,

      so fast

      it’s like he

      disappeared.

      Then Emma

      is running

      toward us.

      She is pointing Felix

      back toward

      the car.

      We need to get out of here, she says. Now.

      Chloe tumbles past me

      to the backseat,

      next to Anil.

      Felix slams his door shut,

      sliding into the seat next to me.

      His eyes are fixed on

      Emma.

      Go, Brendan, Emma says, voice urgent.

      Then she spots the

      gun

      in his hand.

      What the hell? she says, eyes wide.

      But Brendan doesn’t let go of

      the gun.

      He turns on the engine,

      puts the car into drive,

      and

      accelerates.

      Then he deliberately

      sticks his hand

      up through the open moonroof—

      a parting shot.

      So loud my hearing goes

      dim again.

      Emma, her face livid with rage,

      knocks

      the gun

      out of his hand.

      It clatters to the floor,

      at my feet.

      Without even thinking

      I kick it under my seat.

      A few seconds later,

      a horrible,

      terrifying,

      catastrophic

      answer:

      loud popping noises

      coming from the house.

      Then more.

      Louder!

      Like the sound of

      fireworks.

      Behind me,

      or beside Felix,

      it’s hard to tell,

      comes the sound of

      glass

      shattering.

      And, right after that,

      in front of me,

      the windshield suddenly is

      blurred, cracked.

      Felix lets out

      a soft grunt,

      almost like

      a sigh.

      Brendan is weaving,

      swearing.

      Then Emma screams.

      Stop the car! It’s Faith.

      Faith?

      How could Faith be

      here??

      FAITH

      I smell:

      new mown grass

      the sweet perfume of flowers,

      roses, I think.

      I see:

      cemetery gates

      and down the block

      Brendan’s SUV,

      idling.

      I hear:

      the steady drone of cicadas

      then a few muffled popping noises

      something breaking

      a car door slamming

      a scream

      more popping, louder and closer,

      much closer.

      I feel:

      the handlebars of my bike tilt

      the sidewalk rushing up at me

      pain, unexpected

      overwhelming

      I taste:

      blood in my mouth

      MAXIE

      Emma yells again at Brendan.

      STOP THE CAR!

      But it’s like he

      hasn’t heard.

      Emma opens her door

      anyway,

      jumps out,

      while it’s still

      moving,

      fast!

      I watch her fall,

      hard,

      onto the sidewalk.

      Then she’s up,

      tries to stand,

      but her right leg

      collapses

      beneath her,

      and she is on the ground.

      Once again

      she rises,

      teetering on her left leg,

      hopping back toward

      the ghost house.

      Brendan, stop! I shout.

      He jams on the brake.

      Tires squeal

      and we’re all jerked

      forward.

      I look back.

      Emma has stopped

      and is leaning over

      something lying

      on the ground.

      Brendan wrenches open his car door

      and stumbles out into

      the street.

      Felix, I start, turning toward him.

      But Felix is slumped forward,

      the seat belt the only thing

      holding him up.

      With an icy jolt of horror

      I see

      blood

      dripping

      into

      his lap.

      ANIL

      1. Chloe, beside me,

      crying.

      Wiping the blood

      from her foot with Kleenex.

      A lot of blood

      so I’m thinking it

      must be a bad cut,

      maybe needs stitches,

      and I lean toward her

      to see if I can help.

      2. Then the window beside Felix

      splinters,

      and the front windshield

      is suddenly a spiderweb of cracks.

      I look at Maxie, her face in profile,

      and it is dead white,

      her eyes wide with shock.

      Felix, she whispers, reaching toward him.

      I see the blood then

      on Felix’s headrest,

      and, without thinking,

      I’m beside him.

      3. Gaping wound,

      on the side of his head,

      where his right eye

      was.

      Feel for a pulse.

      It’s there.

      Thin and thready,

      but there.

      Call 911, I say to Maxie. Now.

      I tear off my shirt.

      Wad it up. Gently press it

      against the wound.

      Felix groans.

      Looking into his other eye,

      I see immense pain.

      Sorry, Felix. Hang in there, I say, trying to keep my voice calm, reassuring.

      4. Maxie’s hands are shaking,

      but she’s got 911 on the line.

      Someone’s hurt. Shot, I think, she says, her voice surprisingly steady.


      Can hear the crackle

      of an answering voice.

      Near Walnut Creek Cemetery, Maxie says.

      McKinley Road . . . In the head . . . Might be more than one person . . .

      She’s looking out the window

      at Emma, who is crouched

      beside a still figure

      sprawled on the sidewalk.

      Hurry please, Maxie says.

      Chloe hovers beside me.

      Can I help?

      Hold this, I say.

      And without hesitating,

      Chloe puts her hand where I guide it,

      to the wadded-up shirt

      quickly filling up

      with blood.

      5. Gently I begin lowering the back

      of Felix’s seat.

      I’ve got to go to Emma, Maxie says. They want to know . . .

      No, Maxie, I say, urgent, a shooter’s out there.

      I know, she says. But it’s Faith.

      She squeezes by, out of the car,

      and disappears.

      MAXIE

      I spot the bike first,

      the front tire

      blown out,

      spokes bent

      and twisted.

      Faith is lying half under it,

      Emma bent

      over her.

      Faith! Faith, can you hear me? Emma is saying.

      Faith’s eyes are closed.

      There’s

      blood

      on her face,

      and more,

      a lot more,

      on the leg that’s pinned

      at an awkward angle,

      under the bike.

      Brendan is beside Emma,

      his body taut,

      alert.

      She was awake, talking to me, Emma is saying to Brendan, and then she just sort of stopped, and her eyes closed . . .

      We need to get the bike off her, Brendan says.

      There is no trace of

      slurring

      in his words.

      And in one easy movement

      he lifts the bicycle off

      Faith,

      as if it’s no heavier than

      a feather.

      Then he turns back to

      Emma.

      Emma, he says, get back to the car. You, too, he adds, looking in my direction.

      The drunken, slack-mouthed

      evil Brendan

      is gone.

      In a matter of moments,

      he has changed into

      the lacrosse team captain.

      Strong.

      In charge.

      I turn to go back to the SUV.

      But Emma isn’t moving,

      focused only on

      her sister.

      I think I feel a pulse, she says. But there’s so much blood . . .

      I’ll stay with her. Go back to the car, Brendan repeats.

      Emma shakes her head,

      refusing to leave.

      I notice she is holding something

      tightly in her hand.

      Something dark,

      covered with

      blood.

      It looks like

      a toy.

      Brendan crouches down,

      beside Emma,

      looking her straight in the eye.

      Despite the faint ringing

      still in my ears,

      I can hear

      every word.

      There’s someone with a gun, at the ghost house, he says deliberately. You and Maxie need to get back to the car.

      No, is all Emma says.

      An ambulance is on the way, Brendan says.

      And it’s then that I notice

      the sound of

      sirens

      in the distance.

      Emma stays where she is.

      Faith, you’re gonna be all right. I’m here, she says.

      Brendan looks at me,

      his face

      dead serious,

      and makes a gesture

      with his hand

      toward the SUV.

      I go,

      but looking behind me,

      I see Brendan,

      with that same easy strength

      lifting Emma

      into his arms.

      She flails against him,

      though it’s clear that her own

      right leg is

      badly hurt.

      Suddenly she jerks so hard

      he can’t hold her,

      and she’s

      on the ground,

      then up again,

      hopping on her good leg

      back to Faith.

      EMMA

      I am squeezing the rubber crow,

      Polly’s favorite chew toy,

      tight in my hand.

      It’s smeared with blood, Faith’s blood.

      Oh please God,

      let Faith be okay.

      BRENDAN

      I start to follow Emma,

      then hear Anil calling out to me.

      Brendan, watch out, is what I hear.

      I spin toward the ghost house and see

      the figure of a man moving toward us.

      Or maybe it’s a boy.

      With a rifle in his hands.

      Emma, I call instinctively, to warn her.

      She turns, then freezes,

      staring at the figure holding the rifle.

      She raises her hand,

      the one holding the bloody crow,

      As if to fend off

      what’s about to happen.

      I see the rifle go up,

      pointing straight at Emma.

      And I move.

      MAXIE

      I watch as

      Brendan collides with Emma,

      knocking her off her feet.

      And at the very same second

      that their bodies meet,

      one last shot rings out,

      splitting the night

      wide open.

      AFTER

      Sunday, August 29, 1:05 a.m.

      POLICE CHIEF AUBREY DELAFIELD

      Even before I answer

      the phone, I know.

      I don’t know how I know,

      but I do.

      Something has happened,

      something big, something life-changing.

     


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