Phantom Recall

42 || spiral

I can feel the magnetic force of Iver's aura grow stronger with every passing second, every inch we come within reach of him. We don't have to stop for anything. There are virtually no signs of life outside at this point. With such a vicious storm as this, it would appear the sensible portion of the population came to the realization that whatever reason they could possibly have to leave the house could wait until the rains pass and the winds cease blowing. I do happen to spot some parked cars with their headlights still on, suggesting even those on the road at the time feared pressing on any further until things died down at least a little. And it's impossible to tell how soon that would be.

Even if I had any doubts we were headed the right way before, those thoughts would have been swiftly swept aside with the rapid change in scenery. The signs I've seen several times by this point. On top of the raging storm, I begin to spot more and more instances of glass littering the ground outside houses and cars, even some stop lights experiencing malfunctions. What must those who are alive be thinking, I can't help but wonder. By now they've heard of the strange phantom sickness befalling so many high school students, and the near unsalvageable damage that has yet to be explained by the specialists who have investigated it. And no explanation would come. That much I could be assured of. For even if someone who could see the beasts were to come forward and tell the truth, it's been proven before my very eyes that their words would be written off as nothing more than the ramblings of a lunatic.

Ghosts, phantoms beasts, reapers, spiritual abilities, bordering realms, mors intra annum...

Even having seen and experienced it all first-hand, I still feel like a lunatic myself sometimes. No depictions of the afterlife I've ever heard in my nineteen years of living could have prepared me for what's happened in these past few months alone. But I made it this far. I've survived this far. Somehow. And for a change, I'd like it to have meaning. I can find peace in the hell I walked through as long as it has meaning.

My spirit escort eventually approaches the place where I had last seen Iver, Echo, and Leon. I call out for them to slow down and they listen without question. As I expected...none of them are there after all. But as if the place Iver stood still cleaved to the memory of his presence, a cloud of thick black smoke and dust remains suspended in the shape of a human. The same tormented pose I last saw him in, with twisted arms and tense, splayed fingers just inches from his own throat, mouth agape with no other way for his soul to find relief but through cries of agony. It now remains a snapshot image frozen in time. A sculpture of an irreplicable medium.

I jump off the motorcycle the moment it's slowed down enough. I have to get a closer look. I can't resist the curiosity, but more importantly, once we're no longer traveling at 60+ miles an hour, I catch the slightest glimpse of something — someone who as it turns out, hadn't left at all.

"Echo!!"

She had tucked herself into a nearby alley...it's no wonder I didn't see her right away. So low to the ground, chin against her chest and with one arm clutching her stomach. She's not bleeding, she can't be bleeding, but as a spirit, it's an equally alarming thing to see thin whisps of smoke exuding from anywhere on our bodies. It's a sign of injury.

I throw one quick glance over my shoulder to make sure the motorcyclist hasn't left yet before I race to Echo's side.

"Echo!" I grip her shoulder and give her a firm shake. "Echo, can you hear me?? Talk to me!!"

"...mm? ...oh, it's you."

To my relief, she responds rather quickly. But it's soft response. The hissing rains hush her voice enough as it is but I can tell she's weak.

"Will, what're you doin' here, you rapscallion?"

"Tell me what happened."

Echo musters the strength to pull her head back and rest it against the wall behind her. She pries just one eye open to look at me. "Righteous fury of a little boy," she chuckles. "Man, I'll tell ya...you were smart to run the other way. Kid lost himself...it's not Iver, that's just not Iver..." She cranes her neck to peer at the human-shaped mold of smoke behind me. Gloom clings to her. "I know you can't remember him but he really was a sweet kid...deep down, anyhow. Past all the things we...taught him to pretend didn't exist. You knew that more than anyone..."