The Ghost Files

Chapter Twenty Seven

The movements I hear are lighter, softer. It has to be Mrs. O. I hear the water turn on and then she's moving all around the room. She's muttering as she works, which only confirms my suspicions about who it is. She sounds frustrated. If I can get loose and distract her, then maybe I can get away. Maybe we don't need to try the scary snow after all.

"Mrs. O?" My words come out slow and slurred. My face feels like it's ballooned up and my throat continues to swell. It might cut off my windpipe soon. I remember the feel of being choked to death earlier today by the ghost at UNC. This feeling is remarkably similar, just less obvious.

"Just a minute, Mattie. Let me get the things I need to clean you up."

"Bathroom?" I choke out. It's a long shot, but I'm hoping some of that motherly love she claims she feels for us will help me out. I need to be untied if I hold any hope of getting out of here before her husband comes back.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Mattie," she says after a long minute.

"Please?" I try again.

"Don't do anything stupid at first, Mattie," I hear Eric whisper. "Use the bathroom. Have her help you so she thinks you are helpless. Then on the way back, we'll strike."

I had a thought. "Can you and maybe some of the other ghosts make it cold enough so she feels it or is it only me that it works on?"

"No, it works on everyone," Eric says. "Why?"

"Does she know who you are?" I ask.

"Yes."

The feelings behind that simple word make me want to cry. There is so much pain and anguish that I feel it to the depths of my soul. I will help Eric cross over no matter what. "She knows your name?"

"Yesss...."

I flinch, knowing that the memories I'm stirring up must be beyond painful for him, but I need every advantage I can get. I swallow painfully. I need to talk and I need Eric to back me up with his ghostly abilities.

Mrs. Olson moves to me, untying my restraints with gentle care. She helps me to sit up, giving me a minute to orient myself. My head swims and if I could see, I'd be puking. Strange that I can feel the room spinning even if I can't see it. I must have a heck of a concussion going on.

My feet are unsteady and I lean on Mrs. Olson as she helps me to the bathroom. I really do need to pee. I try to fumble with my jeans, but can't stop the harsh cry that slips out when pain lances up both arms. My hands are useless. I'm pretty sure they're both broken in multiple places.

Mrs. Olson makes a tsking sound and helps me get my jeans down and seated on the toilet. Relief is instant. As much as I should be embarrassed, I'm not. I haven't been to the bathroom in Lord knows how many hours. I needed to pee.

I am so focused on my acute relief, I forgot Eric. I feel my face explode in rush of heat and scarlet fire. I can hear him chuckling. He is enjoying my embarrassment. As much as I have come to rely on Mirror Boy, no way do I want him seeing me sitting on the toilet. Not only is it embarrassing for so many reasons, it's downright rude.

"Focus, Mattie." Eric's laughter reverberates through my head, making me wince. The slightest noise is starting to bother me. I'm not sure if it's the head wound or if it's from prolonged ghost conversation.

"Mrs. O?"

"Hmm?" she murmurs, turning on the water, presumably so I can wash my hands.

"Do you know how I knew Sally didn't run away?"

She pauses.  I can't see her, but I feel it in the lack of movement. My other senses work much better since I can't see. I'm actually grateful for it.

"I saw her."

"Wh... what?"

I nod and fight back the pain it causes me. "I saw her that night. It's why I came home early and wanted you to call the police." My throat is on fire and it hurts to breathe. I take a few slow breaths and try to force the pain to the back of my mind. I have to rattle her or this won't work. "Can you help me up, please?"

She pulls me up and helps me fasten my jeans. Her movements are jerky, hurried. I take a step toward the running water. "Eric?"

The cold starts to creep in and I know it's more than Eric. I can feel them, like I did earlier. There are more this time, almost two dozen different souls pressing in on me. I'm not afraid, not at all. It's their way of comforting me, letting me know I'm not alone. I welcome the ache that settles in my bones.

I can hear the ice forming on the mirror and Mrs. Olson's gasp of shock. The water is icy as it splashes over my hands. It doesn't register, not really. I can't feel the cold of the water past a sensory perception of it. I know that when I breathe in and out fog will be swirling in front of my face.

"You are going to have to push her, Mattie. If you turn to your right and shove with all your might, she'll fall over," Eric went on. "I don't know if she'll be down long, but you need to run. Turn around and run straight. The door is directly across from this one. Run fast."

"Don't you want to know how I saw Sally?"

"You can't have seen her," Mrs. Olson denies.

"I did," I tell her softly, the words coming slowly. "She was wearing her favorite night shirt. There was masking tape on her mouth and she had a bullet hole in her head."

"No...you can't have seen..."

"To quote an old movie, Mrs. O, I see dead people, ghosts if you will. I saw her ghost."

She flinches away from me and I blink back tears of sheer pain. Be strong, I tell myself. You only have one shot at getting away.  Forget the pain, focus on escape."Can't you feel them all, Mrs. O? They are here with us right now. Emma, Tina, Bobby, Ricky.  They're all here."

"How do you know those names?" I can hear fear in her voice. Good. Fear is good.

"They told me their names. I saw them, what Mr. Olson did to them. I know what happened to them."

The room plunges to freezing. I wouldn't be surprised if the sink water started to form into an icicle. Wow. I've never felt anything so cold in my life.

The sound of nails on chalkboards starts to creep into the room.  "There's Eric," I sigh wistfully.  Mrs. Olson moves closer, her body pressing into mine. I can feel her fear, feel her shiver.

"Eric?" she whispers.

"You remember Eric, what Mr. Olson did to his face?"

She gasps in horror. I struck a nerve. "His face is so bloody and mangled you can't really even make out what he looks like."

I lean on the sink and brace my feet. "He's standing right here next to us, Mrs. O. Can't you feel it, the cold? The cold is all the ghosts you've helped kill. That scraping sound, that's Eric."

"No, no, no, no, no..." she wails.

"Now, Mattie, do it now!" Eric orders.

I push away from the sink and shove my body into hers as hard as I can. She stumbles and falls hard. I don't wait, I run.