The Return of the Phantom

Car Trauma

Aaaannd... now it's back to our regularly scheduled programming of Return of The Phantom. Thanks for tolerating the painful Holiday special you were provided 😊
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Heart pounding in his chest, Danny doggedly hung on to the steering wheel so the car wouldn't spin out of control.

His knuckles were turning white from the strain. Beside him, Jackson gripped the armrest just as hard, his face pale with terror. All he could hear was the screech of the car's tires as he tried in vain to stop in an emergency lane. He gulped. The tractor trailer loomed behind the car, practically on top of their vehicle, which was tiny in comparison.

His mind racing, there was no doubt in Danny's mind as he made the split-second decision between life and death.

He had to do it.

Summoning the ghostly energy within him, he concentrated, willing every bone, every fiber, cell, and atom of his body to become nonphysical. All sense of touch; the seat beneath him, the brake pedal, even the steering wheel in his hands vanished. Then he willed the sensation onto his surroundings- Jackson, the car- everything. He held his breath as the car began to vanish, then, with a sharp intake of breath, he watched the tractor trailer pass right through them. The shocked look on the driver's face turned to relief, and, after completely passing through Danny's car, the man swerved off the road and came to an abrupt stop.

Danny exhaled, and the car became tangible once again. He'd only been holding it like that for a few seconds, but using the power had drained him.

Am I really that out of practice? He grumbled internally. Finally, after pulling over, he hesitantly glanced over at Jackson. His eyes were still tightly shut, and Danny felt guilt and relief at the same time. He hadn't seen what should have been impossible. Jackson like most of the world nowadays, believed in ghosts, but didn't think he'd ever encounter them firsthand; he never had to in Laurel Copse, VA.

After a brief pause, Jackson tentatively opened his eyes, and looked around in amazement. "W-we're...we're okay!" He exclaimed, his eyes shining. Smiling wide, he burst into tears, hysterically crying and laughing simultaneously.

"Hey, we're safe now, we're okay," Danny soothed, hugging Jackson close. Jackson continued to shake with sobs.

Danny didn't know what to do. Sure, his heart was racing, but it was quickly slowing down; after all, though it had been quite a few years, he was used to a high-stakes thrilling terrifying adrenaline-loaded fight or flight circumstances. Jackson shouldn't have even realized they were about to be flattened by a truck. His only awareness should've been the blown tire. Danny supposed it must be scary to Jackson because he'd been pretty sheltered all his life, and he hoped that was the case.

I guess I should be glad this is the most traumatic thing that's happened in an eleven-year-old's life. Conflict bubbled within him: part of him was glad, but the other part wished that he'd been exposed to something like this sooner, to make him stronger.

After a loud gasp for air, Jackson started babbling between hiccupy sobs. "I-I'm sorry." he sniffled. "I don't kn-know w-why I'm crying." This caused him to start crying again.

"H-Hey! There's no reason to be ashamed of crying right now," Danny exclaimed. "It is pretty scary." Just don't start crying at the soccer game if we can still make it - Hey, quiet you!

He needed to be sympathetic right now, not in tough superhero-dad mode. But would Jackson be too traumatized to play for the team? They could still make it to the game if they caught a ride or something.

Jackson wasn't crying anymore, but his by his tearstained face Danny knew it was too soon to ask if he still wanted to play at the soccer game. But Jackson surprised him.

"I-I still want to play," he stammered, trying to sound confident. He looked at his dad pleadingly. "Can we still make it?"

That was exactly what Danny did and did not want to hear. Part of him never wanted to drive again, mainly out of concern for Jackson. But the other part wanted to push through, tough it out. Still, was it that he wanted to help make his son stronger, or was it out of pride, wanting to show up to the big game and impress the competition?

Well, toughing things out has never gone too badly before, he decided. Well, there was that time at the movies... and the amusement park...and the grocery store...and the three birthday parties all in the same day... But hey, Jackson wasn't little anymore. It could be different this time! Sure! Optimism!

"Okay, let me call Mr. Reese. He probably could pick us up." He told Jackson, pulling out his cellphone. Mr. Reese was Nathan's dad, a fellow teammate and one of Jackson's best friends. Danny wouldn't describe he and Owen Reese's relationship as a close friendship, but they had grown to count on one another for things like transport to practices or being invited to summer barbecues. He had to admit it felt kind of nice feeling like he was part of the Laurel Copse in-crowd, or at least semi-popular?

It was weird how cliques never really ended in high school.

Conveniently, the Reese's were only a little ways behind them and would be happy to pick them up on the way to the game. Danny sighed with relief as he hung up the phone. There was one thing taken care of. With the cars zooming by on the highway, he'd felt pretty trapped. Next, he needed to call a tow truck to come get the van, which wasn't going anywhere with its blown tire. Also conveniently, he found a place who could come by pretty soon.

What was concerning was not only the uncanny convenience, but also the disappearance of the ghost who was causing all this mayhem. The now silenced car betrayed nothing as Danny stared searchingly around it, taking in its faded gray mats and scratched dashboard from years of (loving) abuse. When would it strike again? In the Reese's car? On the tow truck? He was dying to just let the Reeses just take Jackson while he sleuthed a little.

Are you insane? The competitive dad voice in his mind exclaimed. You need to be there. Forget the ghosts! Ugh. He really needed to figure out this ghost hunting time management thing.

A plan began to unfurl. Maybe if there are an excess number of parent coaches tonight, he deduced, there could be a little bit of time where I could slip away unnoticed, get the ghost, and be back before the end of the first quarter. His dad voice was nagging him at the irresponsibility, but he knew it was the best plan he had. That ghost was definitely going to return, ten plus years of experience told him that. And despite not having a ghost-catching thermos on hand, lucky for him, the game was in Newport News, a city.

Most cities sold ghost hunting gear nowadays since ghosts had become more public over twenty years ago, from within convenience stores, mall kiosks, and in some seedy strip malls, so he knew he wasn't going to have much of a problem finding a thermos. I'll be back in no time at all.

Of course, that last part wasn't true. His ten years of ghost-hunting experience clearly emphasized that catching a ghost was never as fast as you wanted it to be, but for his conscience's sake, he ignored this vital fact.