The Ghostly Past

Chapter 27

Max Henderson had a sleepless night. He had been up for hours, trying to play a video game, but shooting zombies lacked any appeal for him. The previous night had been one long nightmare. He had succumbed to his desire for Clara, despite trying his hardest. That kiss in the garden...he'd always remember it.

It had taken every ounce of restraint he possessed to leave her, to push her away. And then she'd almost died on his watch.

No one had expected Oliver to take the news so badly, but what had they expected? He was just an ordinary man. The rest of them had been raised with this madness, the knowledge that the curse could land on them or anyone else in the community.

He had fled from them. Max and and Leo had followed, hoping to offer some support or comfort. Oliver had already been on the dance floor, swaying to the beat with Clara in his arms. She had looked so tired, he thought, she and Oliver engaged in an intense discussion.

"You don't think he's telling her everything?" Leo had looked appalled.

"Would that be so bad?" Max murmured.

"You tell me. You know her best." Leo answered. "I like her now that I know her, but she won't let it rest, even when she knows the truth. I want my final days to be peaceful, not chasing a solution no one can find."

"You'd prefer no hope to false hope." Max had replied, watching Oliver's face, twisted with distress and Clara's tentative smiles.

"Something like that." Leo had nodded. "This is ridiculous, I'm going to talk to him." He had taken his first strides when Oliver swept Clara to him and kissed her.

For Max, time had halted, seeing the two of them, seeing Clara respond to the kiss. The sense of betrayal was powerful and irrational. He had pushed her away. She could kiss who she liked. But that didn't stop the pain.

He had fled the room, back to the kitchens before Leo had a chance to turn.

Sitting alone in his living room with black, miserable thoughts, he was relieved when the phone rang. "We should visit Oliver." Leo told him, "Now that everyone's sober and it's daytime, I think it'll be better."

"Why me? He and James are close." Max protested. He couldn't stand the sight of Oliver's face. Not after last night.

"Because we're all in this together." Leo said, unflappably calm. "And I'm worried about you."

"I'm fine." Max said on automatic.

"No one is fine, Max." Leo's voice was heavy. "I'm walking to yours now."

He and Leo crossed the village together. It was quiet that morning, subdued even. People were becoming tired and afraid for their families, their children. The six of them were viewed ever more as the villains to the story, holding the spirits in place by not fulfilling the cycle.

Oliver was staying in the upper flat of one of the buildings, a whitewashed stone construction. Leo knocked on the door, glancing back at Max stood there, hands inside the pockets of his grey coat. It occurred to Max that he and the others would probably never be friends, if not for the curse. They'd never bothered with one another until it manifested.

Perhaps those friendships were the only good thing to come from this, before they all tore them apart.

"He's not answering." Leo frowned. "I tried calling him and he didn't answer."

"He probably went home with Clara." Max joked bitterly.

"It's worth a try." Leo shrugged.

They walked there. It wasn't far, and both men appreciated the fresh morning air. They walked up the lane with purpose. Max never knocked for Margaret's house, he had a key and was welcome any time. The lady had been his surrogate parent for all of his life.