Between The Lines

20.

It was probably midnight or so. No one was out, so limping along the street wasn't too much of a hassle. A few cars sprinkled the road, but I never saw Raff's truck, which was only one less thing I had to worry about. I followed the ghost-man, running across streets, cutting through alleyways and two parks (I turned off my phone and hid it in a tree there once it rang with Mom and Raff's calls)-we were heading towards the newer districts, near where Mitch lived. I thought about where they were going to be, I guessed someplace empty, but I also tried to think of a plan.

What could I do, now that I had my body? My only help would be this ghost-man, but I was sure he was going to leave once his job was over; he was helping enough. I wouldn't be able to see anyone except Gabriel-and I prayed he was perfectly fine.

The only thing I could think of was turning myself into a decoy, which left me wide open to possession. Would they do it? How would I come away from that? Would they let me go, or use me up? Would it even help? Had they done that to Gabriel? Was it happening right now?

The ghost-man started to slow down, and I realized how exhausted I was. I'd run the whole way, mostly on adrenaline, not even thinking about it, and I realized I should've kept up my strength-not to mention how badly my right leg was aching, particularly at the knee. I was weak-even hungry-so I was so incredibly vulnerable. I had to climb the diamond-link fence around the undeveloped neighborhood, using mostly my arms; barely manageable when my bag got stuck at the top. I then had to precariously swing my bad leg over without falling. Landing was a pain. I could see the unfinished roofs of the houses, no shingles-just black plastic stirring gently in the breeze.

This place was definitely empty. No one was going to hear any cries for help.

I stopped and reached into my bag, wrapping my fingers around Dad's lighter. I sort of wished I'd kept my phone with me, just so that I could feel I could call someone for help.

The ghost-man stopped in front of a house. The house was just as unfinished as the others around it. He stopped us across the dirt-street from it, making me stand behind a tall stack of lumber. This was the place.

I turned to his general direction. "Thank you. I really appreciate it. You... don't have to stay if you don't want to." I felt that little cold sensation on my shoulder before the pull started to fade away.

Alright, so he was gone.... It was just me. I took my hand out of the bag, but I rested it on top.

My legs shook as I walked forward, as I tried to limp with a purpose. No doubt a few of Clapton's men were standing in front of the house-they probably watched me, wondering what I was possibly doing. Did they think I could see them? What if they thought I was possessed by one of them? After all, Clapton seemed to think Eli and I were somewhat valuable. And I was just facing forward, maybe looking like I was supposed to go into the house.

The door wasn't locked; like it would deter any ghosts. I entered without any disturbance. The 'living room' was empty and bare. From the inside, this place looked huge-bigger than Mitch's house, and I'd already thought that was a big house. A few of the walls were completely naked, just the skeletal version of themselves.

"Hello?" I called out, wondering if the outside ghosts-assuming they were even there-would hear me and realize I was not meant to be there. Then I wondered if someone was in the living room right that minute, and maybe I'd just walked into a trap. I couldn't look like a fool. I crossed my arms. "Will someone please talk to me?" I called, trying to sound annoyed.

Footsteps from what I thought to be the kitchen sounded, making me jump. A blonde boy, blue-eyed, probably my age walked out, stopping under the unfinished archway. "Can I help you?" he asked, leaning against the column.