Greg Weisman - Rain of the Ghosts

’Bastian brought her back to the matter at hand: “They need me to finish the mission, so they can finally go home.” Her eyes snapped up to meet his. He sighed. “Rain, they’ve waited so long…”

She shook her head vehemently! Then she pointed to the armband, turned to Charlie and practically pulled her friend toward the surface. ‘Bastian tried not to follow. He tried concentrating on the mission, on the men. But the connection to the snake charm was too strong, and he began to rise against his will. Below him, he watched his crew start to dim and fade away.

For the second time, Rain and Charlie broke the surface. The rain was sharp and stinging; the seas, just beginning to chop. Treading water, they removed their regulators.

“What’s going on?” Charlie asked.

“’Bastian’s trying to ditch me!”

“Rain…” Charlie sounded dubious. But whether of the ghost’s intentions or its mere existence was unclear.

“I am not trying to ditch you, young lady.”’Bastian had surfaced beside his granddaughter. He was as determined as ever to rescue his men. “I have to help them find peace. It must be why I’m still hanging around.”

“No!” Rain was equally determined. “You’re here to be with me! I don’t want you finishing any missions.”

“We’re right above the wreck. I can sense it somehow. That’s why they stopped the boat here.” He pointed at the snake charm, knowing she knew what he wanted, what he needed.

“No, no, NO!!”

“No, what?!” Charlie demanded.

Rain ignored him, yelling at no one: “I won’t lose you again!”

Charlie muttered, “Can’t believe I’m a third wheel in a crowd of two.”

’Bastian leaned in, quiet and serious. “Raindrop. This is important.”

Rain looked away. Torn and torn up. She couldn’t bear it if he left again. I just got him back… She snuck another look. At this face she barely recognized. Her grandfather before he was her grandfather. When he had other, larger, priorities. I can’t lose him again… For a long moment of quiet rain and less-than-gentle up and down ocean flow, she said nothing. But if I keep him like this… Finally, she turned and said, “Charlie, we’re gonna dive down and find that B-17.”

“What?!” Charlie yelled.

’Bastian was equally shocked. “You don’t have to do that.”

“The snake charm heals,” she said, trying to convince herself as much as anyone. “And these ghosts have been hurting for a long time. I have to see this through even if it means losing you.”

“Thanks, you’re so kind,” said Charlie, who thought she was speaking to him.

“Maybe that’s how you become part of something larger than yourself—by doing something…” She cringed. “… Unselfish.”

’Bastian beamed at her proudly, but he still didn’t want her at risk. “Just drop the thing. If it sinks straight down, it’ll fall close enough.”

“And let it land fifty feet from the plane, stranding you at the bottom of the ocean for eternity? I don’t think so.”

Charlie had had enough. He was trying desperately to hold onto the safe normal world he knew. “Rain, you can’t possibly believe all this stuff!”

“You saw how it healed my arm. Are you telling me you don’t believe?”

“I’m sure not admitting I do!” He glowered at her for a good five seconds. Then relented. “All right, let’s go.”

She smiled. The kids replaced their regulators. Then all three dove back down under the surface of the water.

Rain and ’Bastian followed the glowing bread-crumb trail of ghosts down toward the ocean floor. Charlie followed Rain, shining the flashlight rapidly back and forth. By this time, he wanted to find the plane as much as his friend. Find it and get out of there. If I live through this, my mom is gonna kill me.

Rain could hear the drums in her head. The further down they searched, the more insistent the rhythm. Another smile crept onto her face. When did this become fun? There was no sign of the Belle. The temperature of the water decreased steadily as they descended. Rain and Charlie were both wearing t-shirts and shorts and wishing for wet suits.

’Bastian pointed past a coral reef. Rain swam over it. Charlie followed. Beyond the reef, their objective: a shadow that seemed to drain away all surrounding light. Charlie swept his flashlight across the dark shape. The Island Belle had seen better decades. It lay wrecked, rusted, seaweed-covered and decidedly ominous at the bottom of the sea.

Charlie felt his heart racing; he was scared, but despite himself, he was curious now too. He and Rain exchanged a glance, then swam toward the B-17.

They swam along the fuselage until they found a hatch. Rain tried to pull it open, but the rusted handle snapped off in her hands. Charlie tapped her on the shoulder and pointed.

There was a large open crack in the fuselage about three feet away. Large enough to swim through. Rain paused. Then swam into the plane. Charlie followed. Drums, heartbeats, whatever they were, were loud in both their ears.

Carefully, they swam through the Belle ’s cramped interior toward her cockpit. Charlie held the light steady. As they entered the radio room, their movement spooked a small shark, which fled, churning up a cloud of silty muck. The light danced among the silt, revealing nothing. They swam through the cloud and found themselves face to face with a grinning skull.

Both kids let out a frightened squeal through their regulators. They grabbed each other’s arms to steady their nerves. Rain moved closer. The skull topped a skeleton dressed in tattered World War II garb. Charlie’s light soon found a second skeleton and a third. Rain stared at the first skull, trying to see the face that used to surround it. But she didn’t recognize him. Didn’t recognize any of them. Dead people all look alike to me. The light slid past the name tag on his uniform: “Grier.” It’s Pete, she thought. This was Pete. Now she knew she was doing the right thing.

Charlie wasn’t so sure. He didn’t know what they were supposed to do in here, down here. But whatever it was, it was past time they got it done and got out. He found Rain’s eyes and pleaded to her with his own. She nodded and led him around the remains of Pete Grier and into the cockpit.

Rain entered the small space, followed by Charlie. His light found another skeleton wearing a bomber jacket and leather helmet, sitting in the copilot’s seat. Charlie shrugged at Rain. Now what?

On Rain’s armband, the snake that had healed her flashed gold once again. ’Bastian materialized from the snake charm, facing away from them. He was still glowing softly but no longer transparent. As his glow changed from white to gold, he looked almost solid enough to touch. But Rain’s hand still went right through his back, and she quickly pulled away. He ignored or didn’t feel the intrusion. He took his seat. The pilot’s seat. He said, “All right, boys, prepare for takeoff.”

“Roger that.”

Rain locked her hands around Charlie’s arm—tight enough to make him wince. Tom McMinn’s glowing spirit had materialized around his skeleton—solid enough to render the bones within invisible.

“Finally.” This voice came from behind. Rain turned just in time to see Pete’s spirit looming in the hatchway, superimposed over his skeleton, too. Pete smiled, but not at her. She wasn’t sure if the crew were even aware of their presence.

Tom spoke into a radio whose frayed wires no longer led anywhere: “Call in.”

In the nose, Bear and Billy found their bones and checked in with their commanding officers. “Navigator, ready.” “Bombardier, checking in.”