Greg Weisman - Rain of the Ghosts

The Bootstrap motored out beyond the harbor and the bay and proceeded northeast through the rain and choppy seas. At the helm, Callahan wore his customary contemptuous scowl, but he had no idea that two panicked teenagers were below deck, staring out a porthole at the fog-laden night. They turned toward each other. Rain whispered, “Now what do we do?”

“Pray for an iceberg?” It was the best Charlie could come up with, plan-wise or gallows humor-wise. His eyes scanned around for some source of hope. Instead he found a source of confusion. Rain was wearing one armband, holding another. “Uh… are there supposed to be two of those?”

Rain looked down at the twin bands. It seemed to take a second for them to register. Then some kind of internal switch got flipped, and she rushed back across the cabin to Callahan’s duffel. She pulled the armband off her arm and stuffed it into the bag. Her mind was working out what must have happened as she relayed it in a low whisper to Charlie: “Callahan stole mine so he could replace it with a fake. That’s why I couldn’t find anything when I searched his room. And why he wouldn’t leave the Nitaino. He had already taken the real armband out of the Inn so he could have a copy made, and he needed to stay put until it was finished.” She pointed at the duffel. “He must have planted this phony in Mom’s laundry today.”

Charlie was wildly unconvinced. “Why?”

Rain shook her head. “I don’t know.”

She held up the real armband to examine it. It caught the light, which glimmered off the golden snakes, until they almost seemed to come to life in her hand. “Why would anyone go to all that trouble to steal a family heirloom…?” She smiled slyly. “… And still fail.” She slid it up her left arm, where the two serpents came to rest around her biceps like warm old friends.

Instantly, the armband no longer required the cabin’s light. First came the lightning: a silent, double strike out at sea. Then to Rain (but not to Charlie) the armband began to glow softly white from within. And like a genie out of a bottle, the Dark Man materialized before his granddaughter’s eyes. Gratefully, ‘Bastian’s spirit said, “Rain,” his voice clear as a bell in her mind. “Raindrop.”

“Papa,” she whispered. They moved to embrace. But their arms passed right through each other. She reprimanded herself, I knew that. But she was disappointed nonetheless. She sadly pulled away.

His shoulders sank. “Sorry, I’m not all… here.”

She reached forward to reassure him, barely remembering the lesson she had just learned in time to stop herself and pull away. This is gonna take some getting used to. “It’s not important,” she said aloud.

“At least you can hear me now,” he said, too loud. Not at all like the smoky voices of Tommy’s ghost or Pete’s.

“Shhhh!” Rain hissed. “Callahan’s on deck….”

’Bastian glanced over Rain’s head at Charlie, who stared as his friend held a conversation with empty air. Charlie really tried; he concentrated with all his might and squinted in ’Bastian’s general direction. But there was nothing there. “Don’t worry,”’Bastian said, trying for her sake to “speak” at a lower volume. “I’m pretty sure you’re the only one who can see and hear me.”

“I guess you’re right,” she said as she turned back and asked Charlie, “You’re not getting any of this, are you?”

Charlie grumbled, “I’m getting you to a doctor—as soon as possible.”

Charlie watched Rain turn away and say, “Ignore him” to the room. For a second nothing happened, then she struggled to stifle a laugh.

Charlie felt the blood rise in his face, “Hey! What’s he saying about me?” And then hearing his own words, he stiffened. Oh, great. I’m starting to believe this derangement.

Thunder rumbled in the distance. But the storm had chosen to build rather than approach.

“How is this happening?” Rain asked.

’Bastian shook his head. “I’m not sure. But it has something to do with the snake charm. I seem to be tied to it. I go wherever it goes. And during the day… I think I sleep inside it….” He didn’t sound too sure.

Unconsciously, Rain’s right hand rubbed back and forth along the armband. “What is it?” she asked. “What do you know about it?”

“Not enough.” A hundred unhappy memories—everything he had never told Rain about the war and the crash and his old life—flooded over his countenance.

With a clarity as crisp and immediate as the day it happened, he flashed back on the Island Belle ’s cockpit. The windshield was shattered and the B-17 was quickly filling with water. We’ve crashed, he thought stupidly. She brought us down, and now we’re sinking! He tried to move, but his ankle was trapped between the mangled dash and his seat. Pain from his calf and thigh tore through his brain. His hand came away from them, wet and sticky. And when the cold salt water flowed over his leg and into the wound, he screamed. He tried to regain his senses. Stay calm! Stay calm! There isn’t much time! You can’t save your men if you don’t save yourself! He inhaled deeply and dove down beneath the waterline, using both hands to pry his injured leg free. By the time he had won his release, the cockpit was completely submerged. He couldn’t breathe. Thoughts of his crewmates had disappeared. I can’t breathe! He swam out through the broken windshield. His lungs burned. He tried to stay calm, to stay focused, to simply move through the water. But am I even heading toward the surface? There was no air left, nothing left. I’m going to die.

Rain prompted him: “How long have you had it?”

’Bastian looked at her. His ethereal body took a deep breath that didn’t actually draw in any air. “There was this accident,” he said.

“I know,” she said. “Joe told us.”

Joe. Of course. The only one I didn’t kill. He nodded. “A rescue boat found me treading water. I was in a pretty bad way.” In his mind, the image shifted from the plane to the infirmary at Tío Samuel Naval Base. Here the memory was less distinct. A room so white, it practically glowed. The walls were white. The sheets were white. The bed was painted white. ’Bastian couldn’t focus on anything. The whiteness overwhelmed him, seared him. He was burning up. “I guess I was feverish. I nearly died.”

Then two old hands reached toward him. They slipped the snake charm onto his wrist. It felt cool and soothing. Is it glowing too? Not white, but gold? He realized he had been thrashing in the white bed only as the thrashing stopped. Only as he finally fell into a deep sleep.

And in the present, woke anew. Old images faded but the old wound still ached. Can a ghost feel pain? Phantom pain, he supposed. He looked at his granddaughter. “The charm belonged to my grandmother. I had never seen her without it. When I was sick, she put it on my wrist. My abuela always said it was her snake charm that healed me. I gave more credit to the doctors. But now… well…” he finished dryly, “I’m beginning to wonder.”

He reached toward Rain’s left arm, stopping just short of not being able to touch the charm. Rain grinned, practically bouncing on her heels. “I’m just so glad you’re back. You are never going away again.”

He turned so she wouldn’t catch his pained expression. “Raindrop…” he began, but he was interrupted. By the sudden lack of sound. The engine had stopped.

“What the devil?!” In the forecabin, a confused Callahan stared from the water to the controls and back again. He quickly tested the ignition. Tested it again. “Come on!” Click. Click. Click. It wouldn’t turn over.