Rain of the Ghosts (12 page)

“Blast!” He slammed his fist against the panel. He crossed the deck through the soft rain and yanked open the hatch to the main cabin, leaping down the steps, not bothering to close the hatch behind him. Without stopping, he proceeded across the empty room.

He didn’t notice two sets of eyes peering through the wooden slats of the now-closed closet door. Inside the cramped cabinet, Rain and Charlie tried not to breathe. The handle of the metal detector was pressing into Charlie’s back, but he was too scared to move.

Callahan opened the door to the engine room (more like an engine closet, actually), letting a sliver of light into the dark, dank space. He reached forward and pulled a chain that snapped on a free-hanging lightbulb. He didn’t see the Eight, standing in a circle around the engine itself, holding their hands over it, willing it to stop. But ’Bastian, standing behind Callahan, did see them.
My boys,
he thought. Then he called out to Rain, “Looks like we’ve got a little help!” Inside the closet, Rain flinched. She had to remind herself that no one else could hear ’Bastian no matter how loud he yelled.

Callahan took a step forward, walking through a smoky Bear Mitchell without noticing or stopping. He knelt down beside the engine and spoke to it threateningly, “Now what’s your problem?”

’Bastian kept ricocheting back and forth between behaving like the living and enjoying the freedom of a ghost. He moved stealthily to the closet and whispered through the door, as if afraid Callahan might hear. “We’ve still got to get you two out of here and off this boat.” He searched the cabin with his eyes, which lit upon the scuba gear. “That’s it. We’ll sneak you out under the water. He can’t hurt what he can’t see.”

“Can’t see a bloody thing wrong.…” Callahan growled. He reached over with a big paw and pulled a rusted toolbox closer. It scraped along the floor, stopping in the middle of Ducky Simpson’s foot. Callahan flipped open the lid and fished out a large wrench, which he began to apply to a bolt that held the engine casing in place. Big Harry and Little Harry lowered their hands over the bolt. It wouldn’t budge. Callahan shifted his stance to get more leverage, knocking the door partially closed in the process with his butt.

’Bastian saw their chance. “O.K. It’s now or never.”

Inside the cabinet, Rain reached out to open the door. Charlie grabbed her hand to stop her.
Is she nuts?!
Without speaking, she looked him straight in the eye. He allowed her to remove his hand from hers. Under her steady, sure gaze, he allowed her to open the door. They slipped out, practically on tiptoe.

Excited and again too loud, ’Bastian spoke: “Grab up the scuba gear.” It so startled Rain, she nearly tripped back into Charlie. This time
he
steadied
her.

’Bastian pointed toward the semi-closed door to the engine room: “Careful, he’s right in there.” Rain gave her grandfather a look and reached out both hands in a gesture that clearly indicated she was ready to strangle him right about now. Then she turned to Charlie and pointed toward the scuba gear.

But Charlie was too stressed to focus. He held out his hands helplessly, not getting her drift at all. Rain took his arm and guided him over to the gear. They took the bare minimum. Both slipped on masks and grabbed up flippers. Rain carefully hefted an air tank onto her back. It was awkward going. Charlie cradled his air tank in his arms, then impulsively reached for an underwater flashlight. The air tank slipped from his grip. He fumbled for it desperately and just managed to catch it painfully on his foot. A panicked Rain reached over, steadying the air tank with one hand and slapping another over Charlie’s mouth, muffling his cry.

But not enough. Callahan froze at the sound. He regripped the wrench like a weapon and turned toward the door. Slowly, he pulled it open and peered into the main cabin. There was no one there.

No one in his view at least. Rain and Charlie were pressed flat as possible against the common wall that the cabin shared with the engine room. They were closer to Callahan than the engine itself, but they were just out of his line of vision. For a tense beat, none of the players, including the invisible ’Bastian, moved. Finally, slowly, Callahan turned back toward the engine—though he was careful not to let the door close again.

Once again, Callahan applied the wrench to the bolt. The wrench slipped and smashed his thumb against the engine’s metal casing. He inhaled through his teeth, then shouted, “Blast!” Furious and frustrated, he began slamming the wrench against the bolt over and over. “Blast! Blast! Blast! Blast! Blast!!”

’Bastian saw that the man was fully focused on his outburst. This time the new-minted ghost managed to keep his mouth shut and simply signaled Rain to move with a wave.

Rain turned her head to Charlie and jerked it toward the open hatch. Then she led the way out, under the cover of Callahan’s still banging wrench. It was still hard to move quietly with all they were carrying, but somehow they managed.

’Bastian stayed behind to keep an eye on Callahan. Or at least he tried. Without warning, he was suddenly pulled backward toward the hatch by the power of the snake charm. Embarrassed, he tried to recover his dignity as he was tugged along, unconsciously checking to see if his old crew had noticed. Then he raced after the others, running up the steps as if he were alive.

It was still raining softly on deck, but the sea was quiet and the fog had lifted for the moment. The storm remained a distant threat, as if waiting for her moment.

Rain and Charlie looked out toward Tío Samuel—not too far away across the water. They put on their flippers in silence. Charlie picked their shoes up off the deck. Then with a resigned shrug, he dropped them into the ocean one by one.

’Bastian slid up to Rain. He whispered, “Slip into the water. When you get far enough away so that he can’t hear you, ditch the tanks.” He pointed to the island. “It’ll be a swim to Tío Samuel, but I’ve seen both of you handle tougher. Miller’s there.”

Rain stopped him, whispering, “He is?”

“He has a job as a night janitor.”

“How do you know that? Is it a ghost thing?”

He frowned. “I know nothing about ghost things. Wish I did. Too new at it I guess. No, Miller got the job two weeks ago when you dad couldn’t use him on the boat. Navy gives him free room and board, plus days and weekends off for surfing Tío Sams’ beaches, which are off-limits otherwise. He was bragging about the waves last time I saw him.”

An anxious Charlie grabbed Rain’s arm. “What’s going on?”

’Bastian returned to his main point: “Miller can get you back to San Próspero.” He smiled nervously and pointed at the snake charm. “And I’ll be with you the whole way.”

She smiled and turned to Charlie, pointing toward Tío Sam’s. He nodded confirmation. They both turned to climb down off the boat. Unfortunately, they turned in opposite directions, and their air tanks collided with a very loud CLANK! They froze, as the metallic sound echoed across the water. Slowly, all three of them looked toward the open hatch.…

Below decks, the clank still echoed. Callahan wasted no time. Gripping the wrench, he leapt to his feet and ran out into the main cabin through Bear, who seemed to take no more notice of Callahan than Callahan did of him.

Scooping up the harpoon gun with his free hand, Callahan raced toward the hatch. He ducked his head like a bull, then charged out onto the deck in time to see the two kids fall backward into the water. Without hesitation, he dived in after them, fully clothed and well armed.

Rain and Charlie were already swimming away, side by side through the dark silent water. Charlie clicked on the flashlight and swam unawares toward the semitransparent, softly glowing apparition that gently bobbed up and down in the sea. But Rain saw him. The Dark Man, her grandfather, young and handsome and “rakish.” He was completely submerged but dry by all appearances, still dressed in his bomber jacket and standing upright, as if on some nonexistent nodding plateau. He pointed back over her shoulder, his voice—unaffected by being underwater—rang in her mind: “Look out!”

Rain turned in time to see Callahan take aim with the harpoon gun. She tried to move. He pulled the trigger.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

HEALER

Rain was still flailing to get out of the way when she felt the harpoon tear across her skin. She screamed through her regulator as the pain burned from her left arm up into her brain. Charlie yelled too. He reached toward Rain, unsure of how to help. The harpoon had grazed her below the shoulder, and the flashlight revealed the dark red discoloration of her own blood in the surrounding water. Then something slightly lower caught her eye. One of the gold snakes on the armband was beginning to glow, and both Rain and Charlie could feel more than hear a distinct hum in the water, like an electrical charge building. Rain saw the golden glow move rapidly up her arm to her new wound. The glow engulfed the wound and plunged inside it. Just as quickly, the gleam faded—leaving her completely healed.

Rain and Charlie had barely an instant to stare at each other through their masks. Charlie hadn’t seen any glow, but when he’d seen her arm heal—the wound vanishing before his eyes—he nearly swallowed his own regulator. To Rain, the glow had felt warm and wonderful; her pain was gone.

But Callahan wasn’t. He hadn’t reloaded, didn’t have a second harpoon, so he released the gun and swam toward them, brandishing the steel wrench. His massive legs propelled him rapidly through the water, despite the long khakis he wore and his lack of flippers.

’Bastian, furious that this monster would fire on his Rain, moved to intercept, yelling, “Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?!” He took a useless swing at Callahan, but of course his ethereal fist passed right through its solid target. Unaware of his ghostly opponent, Callahan swam through ‘Bastian toward the kids. He was almost on top of Rain, who remained stunned and focused on her healed limb. A desperate Charlie rolled back in the water and kicked Callahan with his flippered feet. But kicking Callahan was like kicking a block of granite. Charlie’s heroism delayed their foe for mere seconds, and the kick pushed Charlie further from Rain than Callahan was.

But it snapped Rain out of her stupor. Seeing a slim chance, she lunged for the wrench and managed to snatch it out of Callahan’s distracted grip. Instead, he grabbed her wrist; he held it tight, shaking it. In pain again, she dropped the wrench, which sank out of our lives for a good long while.

Rain struggled in his grasp, but he pulled her toward him by her wrist, and when she got in close, he yanked the regulator right out of her mouth and stuck it in his own. He took a deep breath, while her continued efforts to escape robbed her of what little air remained in her lungs. He began to swim them both to the surface, and though she fought to be free of him, she didn’t fight the upward momentum. She needed air, and she needed it fast. Charlie followed, kicking furiously. ’Bastian rose, pulled by the snake charm and his own desire.

Callahan and Rain broke the surface together. Still locked in his grip, she gasped for air. He spit out her regulator. They were about a dozen yards from the boat. The sky maintained a fine but insistent rain.

“Let go of me!” she yelled, struggling.

“Forget it, girlie!” His jackknife was suddenly out and open in his free hand: a game of
Attack of the Killer Tourists
played for keeps.

Charlie emerged a few feet away. But before he could do anything (assuming there was anything he
could
do), all three living players turned their heads toward the sound of the
Bootstrap
’s restarting engines. The Eight were gone from the cabin cruiser. Whatever ghostly power they had exerted upon the engine to keep it from turning over had evaporated with them. The cruiser began to slowly pull away from the swimmers.

“My boat!” Callahan took less than a second to register his new dilemma, before releasing Rain with a growl and swimming for all he was worth after the
Bootstrap.
It was an Herculean effort. I’d call it admirable, had it been achieved by a man whose scent I liked even slightly better. Callahan just managed to intercept the cruiser, making a desperate grab for the diver’s ladder and snagging it. Soaking wet, he pulled himself up onto the deck. Then scanning back and forth for further intruders, he ran to the forecabin, reached in with his long gorilla-esque arm and shut off the engine once more.

Then he was at the bow, snapping on a blinding spotlight and turning it on the dark water for some sign of the two kids. But they had gone back under, out of sight. Dripping and frustrated, he muttered under his breath, “Could be anywhere…” And then it hit him. The first sign that the man knew fear: “The
zemi!”

Moments later, he was back in the main cabin, beelining for his duffel. He crouched down, grabbed it up and stuck his hand in, groping blindly. “Come on … Come on…” He felt something hard and cold and metal. His expression changed from desperation to hope. Slowly, he removed it from the bag and held it up to his face. The faux armband glistened under the overhead light. “Yes!”

He sat back on his haunches, relieved and blissfully unaware that Rain had pulled a double switch. Water trickled down his cheek from his flattened blond hair, and he rubbed it away with the side of a thick and equally wet arm. Not without satisfaction, he thought of Rain.
Stupid brat. Got away, but didn’t get the
zemi. His face contorted into a legitimately evil grin, and he spoke aloud, “S’alright. Have another chance at you, kid. Lay odds I will.”

Scant minutes later, Callahan was back in the forecabin. The engine restarted with ease, and he piloted her off toward his rendezvous.

’Bastian’s softly glowing head stuck up out of the water, watching as the boat pulled away and quickly disappeared from sight. Small crests of waves flowed right through him, which was more than mildly disconcerting. He shook it off and allowed himself to sink, to submerge.

He floated straight down, still in a standing position, arms folded across his chest. Rain and Charlie hung in the water waiting. Charlie had the flashlight trained on her arm, looking for a harpoon wound that no longer existed. Rain, who imagined with disgust that she could taste Callahan’s foul mouth on her regulator, was focused upward, watching ‘Bastian descend, so she didn’t see what her grandfather saw. His men, his crew, staggered below the two kids like a glowing trail of bread crumbs. Leading down, down toward the dark ocean floor.