Anton Strout - Dead Matter

Still, as imposing as they were, I actually preferred them in this form than as ghosts. Solid creatures could be beaten on. I readied myself, hefting my bat up into swinging position. I only hoped that years of acid rain in New York City had taken its toll on the stonework to soften them up a bit for me. Either my bat would give or they would.

The creatures were huge, but their sheer weight slowed them considerably. I was able to run up on one of them, taking a few shots, then circling out of its reach while it swiped at me. With each swing I gave it my all, and with each swing I connected. Chips and shards of stone flew off the creatures, but they kept on advancing.

At this rate it would take me a solid week of fighting them to make any headway. There had to be another way. Backing away, I put as many gravestones between myself and them as I could. As impressive as they were in size, they had a hard time maneuvering around the sturdier gravestones. This didn’t matter much as they pushed their way past, crumbling most of them eventually, but it did slow them up a bit. That was something I could use to my advantage, if the ten minutes I had spent reading the departmental memo “Fight Training 301: The Bigger They Are” had taught me anything.

I ran to the far side of one the stone Goliaths, causing both of them to turn and give chase. I channeled them between two sets of gravestones and looked back over my shoulder to make sure I was leading them to the end of the row. When I reached it, I turned around the last stone and started down the next aisle. To follow, the first gargoyle compensated by angling itself around the last stone as well. Seeing an opportunity to use momentum against the creature, I lunged forward and shoved my bat lengthwise between its ankles. The lumbering stone monstrosity couldn’t stop itself. Its legs fumbled over each other and the gargoyle started to topple… right toward me. I dove to my right to avoid it. It crashed down on top of several other gravestones, crumbling some of them and snapping off bits of itself at the same time. One of its heavy stone hands bounced into my lap, causing a charley horse in my leg with the impact. Using both hands, I quickly pushed it off of me and limped myself up to a standing position. One down, one to go…

The other gargoyle was already tripping over the first one, causing a domino effect. A very weighty domino effect. Before I could move, the gargoyle crashed down right on top of me, pinning me under it with my back splayed across the top of one of the gravestones. This creature, unlike the other one, did not shatter into pieces, remaining animated as it pressed down on me. Hard.

To the ghost inside, the living stone was like armor protecting it from my various talismans now crushed up against it. A genius move on its part, one which left me slowly being crushed to death.

Its stony head craned to face me, its glowing red eyes staring deep into mine. “Why are you defending him?” the gargoyle said. “This living man disturbed us.”

“What?” I croaked out from underneath it.

Before it could speak again, a blinding sear of light arced past me, taking the creature’s head clean off and launching it across the graveyard. The same bolt of light arced back through the figure, this time taking its legs off at the knees. The living stone crumbled apart on top of me and fell to the ground, leaving a large assortment of shattered pieces.

Once the weight was off me, I scrambled down the back side of the gravestone I had been lying on and landed with a thud on the pile of broken stone. My back cried out in pain. I took my time standing up, and turned to look at where the energy had come from. It was pretty easy to spot, actually.

Jane was practically glowing, standing with one hand on a nearby lamppost to leech its power and the other one pointed straight toward me. Her hair was a little frazzled, her body still charged with electricity as little drifts of smoke wafted off her fingers. Before I could think of anything to say to her, I remembered I wasn’t alone in the graveyard. I turned my attention back to my immediate surroundings. The rest of the swirling ghosts were still in here with me. I knelt down to dig my bat out from where it had been buried in the stony remains. Once I had it free, I stood up and started tapping it on one of the still-intact gravestones.

“Listen up, you unliving sons of bitches,” I said, trying to sound as commanding as Connor when he dealt with spirits. “Everyone back to your resting place… now.”

I hoped it would work, but I honestly wasn’t sure it would. I pressed on. “Look what happened to your two friends here. You looking to step up and take a shot? It’s just the two of us against all of you. The little lady packs just as good-if not better-a wallop as I do, and I’m pretty sure you don’t want to mess with her. So here’s what I’m going to do.” I pointed at the body slumped by the base of the mausoleum. “I’m going to remove this intruder now, okay? Once he’s gone, you can all rest in peace. This ends here, tonight. I’m taking care of this.”

My body ached and my nerves were shot. If the spirits didn’t obey, I was probably going to collapse soon. The apparitions paused in their tornado of activity, then ever so slowly one by one began heading back into their specific graves. A sense of momentary relief washed over me.

Now there was only the intruder to think about. I went to him as Jane threw open the gates of the graveyard and ran toward us. When I reached the figure, he was face-down next to a gravestone that was splattered with flecks of blood.

Please don’t let him be dead, whoever he is. I need answers.

I reached for the figure, but an overwhelming smell rose from him and I gagged. Patchouli, just like the scent we used to trap and control ghosts for the Department of Extraordinary Affairs. The only person I knew who carried that much on him was…

“Connor?” I said, rolling the figure over.

It was Connor, not that I would have recognized him at first glance. He had a thick, unkempt beard now and his hair was a gnarled, matted mess, even the signature white stripes running through it. Blood covered his face.

“Oh, my God,” Jane said. “Is he alive?”

“I think so,” I said. “Give me a hand.”

Jane joined me and we sat Connor up until he was able to rest his back against the wall of the mausoleum. Every move caused him to groan and hiss out in pain. But even though most of his face and his eyes were swollen shut, he was smiling. He was barely able to open them, but when he did, there was madness in them.

“I had ’em on the ropes, kid,” he croaked out. His voice sounded tired, his words thick, as if he were speaking through a mouthful of blood.

“Uh-huh,” I said, taking a closer look at his face. Once I got past the blood, the damage looked like it might just be a few scrapes, cuts, and swelling. “Forgive my skepticism, Connor, but what ropes did you have him up against? The soft, fluffy kind? It looks like you’re the one crumpled on the ground. I’d say the spirits had the upper hand.”

Jane and I each grabbed an arm and stood Connor up. He winced. “Matter of perspective, I suppose,” he said, fighting to keep his balance.

I looked around the graveyard. Already the limited power of my commands was wearing on the ghosts, and all around us the ethereal figures of the long-dead began to once again crawl their way out of their graves.

“Let’s move him,” I said to Jane. “Now.”

She hesitated, uncertainty showing in her eyes. “Aren’t you supposed to not move someone this badly injured? He’s really hurt, Simon.”

“Look around us,” I said. “I’ll take my chances with whatever injuries he has over what this crowd will cook up for vengeance if we don’t get out of here stat.”