The Future Diary 2: Blood Of The Past

Ghosts In The Hallway

Guests were beginning to leave, filing out of the house in big groups. The persistent ones stayed, enjoying each other's company. Mark and Shay stood next to the table with Dalton's picture on it, and Shay tapped her foot.

"I think I should be going now," she said. "I stayed for the little bit that you wanted. There's nothing to do anymore."

"Please stay," Mark pleaded. "We still have the afterparty. The fun hasn't even started yet!"

"For fucks sake, Mark, it's nine o'clock. Nothing interesting is going to happen at a fucking funeral. There's nobody even here anymore. I'm going home, you can stay if you want."

Mark scoffed. "Fine. I'll be staying. Don't expect a call from me in the morning."

Shay flipped Mark off, just as he realized what he said. He cursed under his breath, turning around, right into Dawson's face.

"Oh!" he exclaimed. "Didn't see you there."

"It's okay, Mark, I'm tired," Dawson said.

"Same here. How long do you think people are gonna stick around for?"

"As long as they want," Dawson said. "There's still a lot to do tonight."

Mark eyed Dawson. "Yeah. Yeah there is. Hey Dawson," Mark said, just as Dawson began to turn away.

"What's up?"

"You're on my side, right? We're friends?"

"Of course. We've known each other a while. You're not psycho or anything."

Mark shyly laughed. "Yeah, I know we have. I've got your back, just in case you're ever down."

"Same here," Dawson said, as he walked back into the dining room. There were a few remnants of the guests still eating, while a majority of them still drank.

"Party's over, boys," Dawson called to Emmi and Chris.

"Bullshit if it is," Emmi shot back. "This is my house, too. I've got a whole night to live still."

"Cheers to that," Chris replied, and they clinked their glasses.

"Want a glass?" Emmi asked as Dawson sat down.

"I'll pass."

Emmi shook his head. "This is a fine bottle. Top shelf. A few years ago I couldn't even think to afford this."

"Now you can," said Chris.

"I still like to keep the less fond memories."

Dawson smirked. "I guess you realize how important each of your memories are to you once they've passed."

"Thinking about Dalton again?" asked Emmi. "My friend, we have much more pressing things at hand."

"Like?"

"Like finishing the rest of this bottle then cuddling with Jeff so he can feel better."

Jacob walked up, taking some dirty dishes. He tapped Dawson on the shoulder and walked out of the dining hall into the room adjacent to the lounge.

"Have a good rest of the night, guys," Dawson told them.

"We'll try," said Chris.

Emmi chuckled as he took a swig. "I can't guarantee all of us will still be standing by the end of it."

Dawson followed Jacob, and when he was around the corner, Jacob grabbed his shoulder.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

Jacob looked around the hallway. "It's nothing. But I just got a call from Jeff's landlord."

"His landlord?" Dawson asked, perplexed.

"I picked up Jeff's phone because he was in the lounge and he had left it with me, I figured it was something important for work."

"Why the hell would you do that?"

"I don't know! But apparently Jeff's landlord was really worried, because he hadn't came home in three days."

"Didn't he tell the landlord that he was taking a trip out of state?"

Jacob swallowed. "That's the thing. He never left New York. He's been living here for almost two months."

Dawson looked shocked. "What..."

"It's nothing I doubt, but just, be aware. I've got to clean up more stuff. I'll be in the kitchen if you need me."

Jacob strutted past Dawson, who leaned up against the wall, letting it hold him up. Why would Jeff lie about Los Angeles? Why did he need to lie about it? Did he know more than he was telling?

"You look tired, Mr. Ashton," a voice said, and Dawson's eyes shot opened, surprised.

Dawson looked at the man in the leather jacket. "Yeah, I am. Long day."

"I know it has, I'm very sorry for your loss."

"I need some time to think, you know? Alone."

"Oh I know. I'm always inside my own head. If I'm not, then I get lonely."

Dawson looked at the man. "How does that work?"

"You're only really alone when you forget who you are," the man answered. "That's an amazing sword collection you have." The man pointed to a mount of two katanas on the wall, crossing each other in an X with the blades touching and the clothed handles draping slightly.

"I'm a collector of antique weapons."

"I see that. I've seen your other stuff."

"Yup. That's what keeps me from being lonely."

"Collecting?"

"No, the fact the people might be able to see what I'm about."

The man offered a grave smile. "To everybody their own, right? I'm going to keep looking. You have a good night now, Dawson."

The man kept walking down the hallway, and Dawson passed the maze of corridors that was his gallery into the main hall that connected the front and back lobbies. There was a closet under the stairs, but other than that and a small desk the hallway was empty.

He looked out the front window above the door, as he saw the flakes of frost collecting outside. It was very dark, but he could still make out the shapes and the swirls of the snow. Nobody had made a move yet. He looked inside his head, at the room. Nobody had died.

But he knew that move was coming. He just didn't know when.