Chad opened his eyes and watched what was happening. The pounding in his head felt as if the blood inside had formed a fist. He thought he was going to throw up.
He didn’t recognize the fishing ramp at first. It was mainly a Traitor high school hangout back when he was still in school and he rarely came down to visit. After he graduated and started selling a little pot on the side he’d sometimes cruise through the ramp looking for customers. For several months he got away with it before Sheriff Dawkins caught him one night and searched his car. He’d warned Chad that if he’d ever caught him again he’d personally guarantee that Chad would get to know the walls of county jail better than his own sorry excuse for a dick and Chad had believed him.
A man Chad had never seen before stood staring down at Ann. He’d just taken his hand out of his trench coat when Chad opened his eyes. His hair hung long and greasy and even from where Chad laid the smell reminded him of a roadkill.
Where did thehighway derelict come from? Is he going to horribly murder us both?
Chad hadn’t even seen the man coming. He’d stepped out of his car thinking he’d heard Ann and then there’d been a flash inside his head. He didn’t even have a chance to turn around before he’d felt another blow and this one shot down all the way through to his jaw and made him bite his tongue before he’d passed out.
Wasn’t it things like this that made ghosts of people? You’re on your way to doing something important in your life and then a random freak comes along and ends it for you? Not for any other reason than the fact that he’s bat shit crazy? Just reaches forward and sweeps all your chips off the table because you’re the one who’s unlucky today?
He’d suffered no broken bones that he could tell. But he hadn’t tried to sit up either. Whenever he tried to raise his head the hammering in his skull would grow louder and he’d have to stop and rest. He noticed something on the ground not far from where the man stood. It reminded him of a rope coming apart.
Is that someone’s hair?
“You’re holding back on me. My mother was like you. She knew things that most people didn’t. About other worlds.”
“I’ve told you everything I know.”
“You’re lying.”
“What else do you want from me?”
“What did you learn, Ann? I must know their secrets.”
“It isn’t like that.”
“Then tell me.”
“You’re looking for some kind of magic, some connection beyond this world. And that’s your problem. You’re just like a lot of people. You want to believe there’s something greater hidden inside everything. And all I can tell you is it’s not there. Not at all.”
“You don’t believe in ghosts?”
“Not in the way you do.”
“Then what are they?”
“They’re in the living. The ghosts are in us. You can’t get rid of them. They’re in everything. It’s our past dragging behind us.”
“So why do we fear them?”
“Because when we see them they remind us of ourselves. Most of us pretend they don’t exist because it’s too much to bear. But the truth is that we’re trying to get ourselves used to the idea of looking like that some day, that we’re not permanent. And I’m okay with that. When I see the ghost in the elk, I know there’s nothing to worry about.”
“I see ghosts too. And they should make you worry.”