Page 46 of After Life
The light swelled, a cresting wave that towered as high as the clouds and made the ships stand in stark relief against the glare. They were solid and real, not just shadows in the night. People stood at the railing, waving and calling out in silent pleas for help. Then the wave crashed down and light washed over me.
Chapter 10 — Julian
I tried not to worry. Rather, I tried not to let my worry control me. But I lost that battle quickly, mostly due to the fact the weather was worsening again as the eye passed over, bringing the dirty side of the storm across the island and Oscar hadn’t left so much as a note or voicemail. When I woke at bit after seven, his side of the bed was empty and there was no sign of him in the room or bathroom. By the time I made it downstairs, I’d convinced myself he was getting something to eat, or maybe in the study, and just didn’t hear me calling for him and had, for some reason, turned off his phone. The wind rattled the hurricane shutters and, for the first time in a long time, I hated rain. “C’mon,” I muttered, trying his phone again
This time it went directly to voicemail.
Great. So it was either off, or he was ignoring me. Or both, I realized, since it’d been ringing out to voicemail every call until then.
Or... I hurried to the study, where he’d been charging it, getting ready for the storm. He’d laughed when I suggested ways to forget about the damn phone for a few hours.
Shit.
It was there, sitting on the end table, plugged into its charger.
Somewhere deep in the house, something fell over and a door slammed.
“Sandra? Sandra, have you seen Oscar?” I called, hobbling back into the foyer.
Of course she didn’t reply. And of course the foyer was freezing. I could practically hear Oscar and Ezra patiently explaining signs of hauntings to me again, as if I’d never read a book or watched one of those ridiculous paranormal investigation shows.
I often tried to avoid thinking of the ironic parts of my life. It’s historically saved me a lot of headaches.
The banging sound came again. Fine, want to play? We’ll do this. “Hey! Now would be a great time to actually talk to me, you know! I can hear you slamming around!”
Silence.
That weird sort where you feel someone listening to you, wondering if they’ve been caught out.
If you’ve ever been around kids for any length of time, you know the one I mean.
“I’m not like Oscar, but I’m willing to listen. He’s not here...” I closed my eyes, gritting my teeth against the spike of anxiety, of annoyance, of hope mingling with frustration, and forced out, “I’m worried something bad might have happened. Please, if you know something... tell me. Please?”
Silence. Silence for so long, my ears started to buzz with it. Maybe it’s my old standby, hypnogogic hallucinations. Lord knows I slept for shit last night so having a particularly vivid—
The slap of something hitting the floor nearby made me jump. It was followed by another two more slaps, all of them off to my right within the study. It took a moment’s searching to see three books on the floor by the bookshelves.
Doesn’t mean anything. They slipped off.
Who are you fooling?
I limped over and gingerly picked them up, laying them out on the sofa to see the titles and covers. Both were local histories, one about flora and fauna, and one about witchcraft..
“Okay.” I sighed. “If this is a hint, could you be more clear? Maybe, I don’t know, muster up at least a partial body apparition, preferably the part that can communicate clearly?”
This time, when no answer came after a minute, I knew I was definitely alone. The stillness was different, less fraught and watchful. Now, it was just the quiet emptiness of being alone in a strange house.
The wind gusted again, harder this time, and I forced myself into motion. There wasn’t much I could do, so I chose the least worst, most viable option and went looking for the old yellow slicker I’d noticed when checking the hurricane supplies. “If anyone wants to tell me this is a bad idea,” I said aloud, “now’s a great time to do it.”
Nothing. Of course.
I shrugged into the slicker and found a heavy old flashlight in the tub, the big square sort people take camping or hunting. It worked—I’d checked it earlier, but I gave it another test again just to be sure—and should be waterproof, if it was like the ones I remembered my grandparents having. Something thumped upstairs, and outside the wind screeched like a banshee.
“Okay. This is fine. This is all fine. This is for Oscar. He’s out there,” I muttered, cringing at my sad attempts at a self pep talk. “I love him, and I’ll be damned if something horrible happens to him and I’m not there to help stop it.”
My leg screamed as I made my way to the door, the howl of the weather almost enough to drive me back into the study to think of another way to do this.
But the mental image of Oscar, scared of the storm, alone... It was a powerful motivator. I yanked the door open and stepped out onto the rain-lashed porch before flicking on the flashlight.
