📖 The Ghost of Emily - Chapter 25

In which Father and Son are Reunited and Safe

Gus sat with his father on the rubble of the destroyed silo, holding him tightly as the last light drained from the sky. Gus heard footsteps approaching, and he pulled away from his father to look; startled, and already reaching for the rifle on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, Gussy. This is Phil. He’s a friend.” Jake stood and placed his hand on Phil’s shoulder. “Thanks for sticking around, Phil.”

“No sweat, Jake... I’m just watching my own neck you know. I like my chances with you better than out there in the dark, on my own. But don’t worry, I’ll help out, however I can.”

Jake nodded. “Phil, this is Gus.”

Phil squatted down, bringing his face level with Gus’. He offered his hand. Gus looked up at his father for reassurance, and Jake nodded.

“That was an amazing shot. Really... you’re a far better marksman than I’ll ever be,” Phil said, as Gus shook his hand.

Gus smiled. “It’s all the rotten lemons I used to shoot between hunts. I could teach you!”

Phil smiled and gently patted Gus on the shoulder, then stood. “Thanks kid, I’d like that.”

“And I can teach you how to clean your rifle and check your ammo for duds," added Jake.

Phil nodded, diffidently. “Well, I wasn’t much help then, giving you a broken gun like that. You’re lucky to have a boy like this watching after you!”

Jake pulled Gus in, cuddling him against his leg and hip. “Yes I am! And your rifle’s not broken, Phil. It just needs a clean up and some fresh ammo. Grab it, and let’s get the hell out of here.”

Gus stayed by his father’s side, as they walked through most of the night. When they finally reached the yard of the town hall, Gus saw many skinny men with dirty faces. Some of them looked afraid. Some of them were trembling. Those men looked familiar. He had seen them at the silo. They were the men who had run away.

Jake led Gus and Phil past them, his eyes set on their destination ahead. One of the men Gus recognised emerged from the group and grabbed Phil by the shoulder. Gus studied his face, and saw shame and fear.

“Phil! You’re alive!”

Phil stopped for only a moment, looked at the man coldly and replied. “Yes, Jim. I am. Are you?”

Jim’s face froze, stunned, as Phil jerked his shoulder free of the man’s hand and continued with Jake and Gus into the hall.

When they entered, there were three burly men standing around the large fire in the centre of the room. They turned to the sound of the doors bursting open, and, seeing Jake armed with two M4s on his shoulders, leading the returning party of only three, their hands fell outward, open-palmed, in surrender.

Olivia emerged from the shadows in a flurry of fiery red hair, running straight for Gus and grabbing him for a hug. She kissed his cheeks and squeezed him tightly. “Gus! What are you doing here?! I went looking for you at the motorhome... you were gone! I was so worried... then Nimmy found me in the forest.”

“Nimmy’s with you!?”

An excited woof echoed through the hall, the sound of clambering dog claws scratching their way down the rear stairs. Nimrod bolted across the room to his two masters, jumping up and licking them, howling and yipping with elation at their return.

Olivia stood and gently grabbed Jake’s chin. She turned his head slightly and began to examine the wound on his cheek from Reynard’s pistol-whip. “We need to clean this up. You won’t need stitches though. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine."

Gus saw an old man standing across the dark room, looking expectantly towards them. That must be Olivia’s papa!

The old man began to shuffle very slowly towards them. He looked much more frail than Gus had imagined him. The old man’s eyes were locked on Jake. When Jake noticed him coming, he nodded repeatedly, and the old man stood tall and picked up pace. Gus was surprised by the sudden change in the man’s body, but he soon realised that it had been an act.

Marcus stood in front of Jake, putting both hands on his shoulders. “Thank you, Jake. We’re free now.”

“You can thank my son. He followed me, and just when I thought it was over, he shot Reynard. Reynard’s dead. Marcus, this is Gus.”

Marcus squatted down and looked at Gus, who was smiling awkwardly, knowing full well that he was the hero of the day, but finding it hard to accept that it was the killing of a man that had made him one.

“So, this is the famous Angus Thorne!” Marcus said with dramatic flair and a twinkle in his eyes.

Gus’s face lit up with wonder. He knew a storyteller when he met one, and Marcus was one for sure.

Marcus placed both hands on his shoulders and squeezed firmly. “You’ve saved us, Gus. All of us. You might feel a bit strange about what happened...?”

“Yes.”

“I understand, Gus. It was not easy to do what you did. But, it was the right thing. Reynard was an evil man. You need to know that there is nothing more right or true than standing up for innocence. Meeting evil with overwhelming force is not just more evil. It is the highest, noblest good. Do you understand?”

Gus bit his bottom lip, concentrating, absorbing Marcus’s words. His instinct was to look up at his father for reassurance, but in this moment, he knew that he did understand. He knew that Marcus was right.

The three militiamen in the room had by now heard that Reynard was dead, and they had shuffled forward, looking at Jake expectantly. Gus saw their expressions, and knew they were awaiting instructions – from his father. Jake shook his head, then he spoke to Gus.

“Go find some food, Gus, you need to eat," and he gently pushed him towards Olivia, who took his hand and led him to the wallaby that was cooking on a spit above the fire.

Jake turned back to the double doors of the hall and yanked them open. The leeches had all crowded around the steps, trying to hear what was happening. From a few metres above them, Jake looked down and addressed them all.

“Reynard is dead. You have no leader now. I won’t be your leader. You’re free. But listen... there are women upstairs who are not free. And there are other men out there in the woods who may come and want to rule over you like Reynard did. These men here,” he gestured to the three militiamen who stood passively behind him, “are not your enemy. Your enemy is anyone who tells you that you must follow them. Anyone who tells you that at gunpoint is no leader. You might choose a leader for yourselves, that’s your right. But any man who wishes to not be ruled, or led, is free to go.”

Most of the men outside, and the three militiamen, were nodding.

“Those women…” Jake felt a rage boiling inside at the thought of what the women had endured, “those women are nobody’s property. Do you hear me? They will need help. Some are injured, most of them will be disturbed by what has happened to them here. If any of you know those women, go to them. Make sure they are cared for. Take them away from here. Take them to a house. Defend them! They need help, and they need to be as free as the rest of us.”

The men looked up at him silently.

“Do you hear me?!” he shouted, trying to jolt them into responsiveness. They began nodding, some muttering affirmatively, some shouting agreement. “Right. So, come in. You’re not leeches anymore. You’re men. Remember that. Come in.” He stepped back in, leaving the doors open for the leeches to slowly, disbelievingly creep inside, and find a warm place by the fire and some food to share.

---

Jake bathed Gus and tucked him into a warm bed in the office he had occupied upstairs. He stayed by his side until Gus was sound asleep, then he crept into the bathroom again. Somebody had set up an iron fire-basket in the corner of the white-tiled room, under the window. The fire was still crackling when Jake returned, and the room was warm and glowing in a muted, calming, orange. He filled a large pot of water and placed it on the grill that was lying across the fire-basket. He fed some more timber into the fire and when the water eventually boiled, he added it to the fresh cold water in the large bathtub, and climbed into the scorching hot mix with a small mirror, and a pair of scissors in his hand.

After soaking for a few minutes cleansing his mind and body of the brutality of the day, he picked up his tools. He started trimming his beard, but grabbing tufts of his bushy facial hair with one hand, and chopping with the other, left him unable to position the mirror, and he quickly abandoned the idea of doing a neat job of it.

The door to the bathroom opened and in walked Olivia, carrying a small bag of her own toiletries, a towel and some fresh clothes. It took her a few paces across the steamy room to notice that Jake was in the tub. “Oh,” she said, stopping in her tracks. “Sorry, Jake. I thought no one was here.” She doubled back to leave.

“It’s okay, I can hurry up for you," and he began chopping faster, and more haphazardly.

She glanced back and noticed what he was doing. She frowned. “Jake,” she said softly, “can I help you with that?”

He stopped chopping and looked at her nervously. “Uh... it’s okay. I’ve got it," he smiled, feeling suddenly naked.

“No, you haven’t. I can help. Let me help you," she offered, with more sincerity and feeling than he might have expected for such a mundane task. He nodded, and she held her index finger up in the air as if to say just a second, then she walked out of the room.

When she returned, she was holding a short wooden stool and a small leather pouch that was scuffed and encrusted in some sort of white powdery residue. She sat beside the bath, level with his chest, facing him.

“Dunk your head under, Jake. There’s still blood, and I need your hair wet anyway," she smiled.

He obliged, and slid down in the bathtub fully submerging his head and hair. As he slid under, Olivia scanned her eyes across his whole body.

He was up again, wiping reddened water from his eyes. He saw her eyes move from his body, back up to his face.

From the pouch, she pulled out a comb and began running it through his beard - a difficult feat, given its length and the extent of its knottiness. He sat, relaxed, looking at her. He didn’t flinch when the teeth of the comb snagged in a wet matt of his thick beard hairs. Soon it was straight and she trimmed it down to a neat, short length.

She withdrew a small dish, a metal dispensing tube, and a peculiar brush. Jake had never seen anything like it. She squirted a small curl of white semi-liquid into the dish, dipped the brush in the bathwater, and began frantically spinning the brush in the bowl, churning the white matter into a thick, creamy foam. She reached towards Jake’s face with the foamy brush, but he caught her wrist with his hand before she made contact.

He looked at her quizzically.

“You want to feel fresh and clean?” she asked, a shade of condescension in her tone.

“Yes...” he answered, unsure where it would lead.

“Well...” she said, in absolute confidence, “nothing will make you feel fresher or cleaner than this. I do it all the time for my father. When was the last time you had a smooth face, Jake?”

Jake thought for a moment. “Well... before the hair started growing there," he answered truthfully, knowing full well that it was somewhat comical.

They laughed together, and she began applying the foam to his face. He laid back against the iron tub and relaxed.

“So, you’re free to go now, Livy. What will you do?” Jake asked.

“Dad and I will be leaving in the morning. Back to the motorhome. Back on the road.”

“I see." Jake failed to hide his disappointment.

“Dad needs more batteries, you see. After what you told him, he wants to be ready for next time - with a stronger battery pack, something that will disrupt the signal to the ghost for a lot longer. He’s not sure how to make a WellsCell array that will have enough integrity to block the signal. It’s rapidly modulating you see - the signal I mean, so the tablet has to use a lot of power to hold a steady deflection field, and it only has a radius of ten metres.”

Jake nodded, not really understanding the technical jargon, but knowing what it would mean for him. He said nothing, keeping his eyes closed to hide the euphoria he felt, as her small, warm hand pressed into his collar bone to hold him steady, and she started sliding the razor gently along his skin.

“Jake,” she said softly, the razor pausing its journey, “would you and Gus want to… join us?”

Jake raised his head to look at her. A little startled, she pulled the razor back, and her hand slid down from his collar to his hard chest. He felt her hand squeeze him a little, and his eyes widened. He felt a twitching in his groin, his arousal becoming apparent. She didn’t look, but a tiny shift in her facial expression told him that she knew.

“What about Nimmy?” he asked, smirking.

She laughed, and he joined her.

“Of course! I love that dog.”

Jake lay back again, enjoying her touch as she continued shaving.

“So Marcus wants to find the ghost again, then...” he said, rhetorically, to himself almost. “He’ll need me.”

“Why?”

“Well, for starters, to protect him. I know he’s not as feeble as he has made out, but he’s not young either. Ghosts are incredibly dangerous.”

“Jake, a ghost has never attacked a human, as far as I know. They seem to only want to use words to convince us to join them.”

“Perhaps, but something is different now. That blue ghost, was not like the others. I mean... it wasn’t a big charade like they normally are. Do you know what I mean?”

“No, but go on. I’m listening, Jake,” she smiled.

“It knew me, Livy. And I knew it. I’d seen it before, in my dreams. A man, I think, just like that blue ghost. Calling to me. And today... it called to me... it knew my name.”

Olivia’s brow creased as she listened.

“After it changed back to Reynard’s wife... I’ve never seen anything like it. She looked so angry. So hateful. She wanted to kill me, Livy. It’s not safe for your Dad to take on the ghosts alone. I want to make sure you’re both okay.”

She smiled. “Thank you, Jake. We’d love the help. And... the company.” She kept scraping hair off his face, and dunking the razor into the water to clean it.

“Before Reynard, had you ever been with a man, Olivia?”

She looked surprised at the question, but was confident enough to answer him truthfully. “No.”

He nodded grimly, and kept his eyes on hers. “I’m sorry, Livy.”

She flinched and suddenly turned away, hiding her eyes from him. Jake said nothing as she sat still for a moment. She sniffed once, then turned back to him, shaking her head and continuing about her work on his beard. “It’s okay, my father needed my help. It was the only weapon I had against Reynard. It had to be done.”

“It’s not okay, Livy.”

She stopped shaving, and looked into his eyes.

“And I won’t let anything like that happen to you or your father again.”

She sat frozen, staring at him oddly. Her hands began to tremble, and he took the razor from her and placed it on the side of the bath. He reached up to hold her hands still. Her mouth opened slightly and her eyes locked on his.

“Jake, I…”

He waited, but she didn’t continue. Her hands stopped trembling and she pushed them through his, landing them on his chest and squeezing as she leaned forward and kissed his mouth. Jake’s mouth opened, letting her tongue explore him, his arms reaching around her, pulling her chest to his. Euphoria swept across his whole body, his arousal intensifying as her hands clutched at his chest and she gently bit on his lip. He slid one hand up her back and ran his fingertips into her hair, holding her face firmly against his. Her hands slid down his chest, her fingers pressing white tracks into the skin over his ribs. His groin throbbed, his manhood tightening and rising, as if trying to meet her hand.

They heard the door open. Olivia lifted herself away from Jake, and stood up. His arms were still held out towards her when a voice called out and she jumped a little.

“Anyone in there?” came Phil’s voice, as the door stopped half-open.

“Yes, Phil. I’ll be out soon,” Jake called back, barely able to mask the annoyance in his tone.

“Okay, sorry.”

The door swung shut with a click, and they heard Phil step away from the door.

Olivia knelt back down, and without saying a word resumed shaving Jake’s face. He smiled, enjoying the excitement he felt in every part of his body, and lay back in the bath ready to enjoy the rest of the shave.

“This isn’t the place, is it, Livy?”

“It certainly isn’t.”