were dead; they drifted from nurse to nurse, touching elbows and asking plaintive questions like “Where am I?” or “What happened?” They shuffled amid the staff, repeating their queries over and over again until Wendy thought she’d be driven mad by the soft, insistent questions. The rest just drifted, ignoring the living and the dead alike, lost in their own tragedies and oblivious to the world around them.
After awhile, she began keeping tally, wetting her finger and marking the paper beneath her legs when a specific sort of ghost wandered by. There were a very large number of elderly ghosts—men and women with wispy fly-away hair and age-spotted hands—most clad in hospital gowns or faded pajamas, and some sporting tubes in their noses or dangling around their necks, though the tubes faded into nothing just past their chests. There were fewer middle-aged spirits and even fewer ghosts in their twenties or thirties. She only spotted one child ghost, who was quickly swallowed by a wash of brilliant light as the orderlies rushed a gore-splattered gurney by her bed on the way to an operating room. There were no teenage ghosts in sight.
From the navel of each ghost dangled a thick silver-white cord, a twisted rope of pale, shimmering light; the cord hung between their knees and moved as they did, like moonlit seaweed shifting with the tide. The ends of some cords were severed cleanly, as if cut with a scalpel, while others broke off in ragged edges, thin and wavering as they shifted their weight. An hour into her stay, while Wendy watched, three spirits who’d come in from another car wreck faded before her eyes. Their cords had been neatly severed and they seemed glad to flee into the warm wash of light.
One ghost, however, did not wander in aimless circles. He moved through the ER rapidly, peering behind each curtain as if seeking someone specific. His middle was nearly bare—only the slimmest of cords dangled from his navel, black and sickly looking, rotted mostly through. Unlike the others, who appeared as paler, more transparent versions of the people they must have been in life, this ghost was bleached of color and stretched, thin and tall and hovering as he moved from curtain to curtain.
His face was a rotting horror.
This ghost in particular scared her, and when he approached her curtain Wendy instinctively ducked her head and buried her face in her hands.
No sooner had it gone than her curtain yanked back and her mother was there, arms wrapping tightly around her and the sweet smell of honeysuckle filling her nose.
“Oh Wendy, baby,” her mother whispered, eyes tracking the ghost as it disappeared around a corner. “Don’t be scared, sweetie. It’s not a Walker yet. It can’t hurt you. Shhh. You’re safe. You’re safe with me.”
Startled, Wendy pulled away and searched her mother’s face. There was sorrow there, and guilt. Her mother knew, Wendy realized, about the ghosts and the white man who, sniffing like a dog, had circled her bed.
Somehow her mother knew, and Wendy was no longer alone.
Eddie was oblivious to Wendy drifting off in the middle of their conversation.
“So leave the scary ghosts alone. You don’t have to reap them. There’s always a choice.”
“No, Eddie, we’ve been over this.” Wendy crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the tree they’d parked under. “If I see a ghost, that means it’s trapped in limbo.
“Or you help them move on. Like you used to.”
“Key phrase there. ‘Used to,’” Wendy said stiffly. “I try not to do that anymore. Not unless I have to.” Her hand curled into a loose fist in her lap. “I don’t have that kind of time.”
“You could give up. Stop searching. It’s not like you know for a fact your mom’s out there somewhere.”
“Yeah, well, maybe I don’t want to be selfish and take that chance.” She pressed her fingertips to her eyes and sighed. “Yeah, I might find her again. Or I might not. It’s my mom, Eddie, I can’t give up on the chance she’s still out there somewhere.” Turning to him, she reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “What about your dad, huh? What if he’d been stuck there and I’d turned away. How’d you feel then?”
Eddie jerked away sharply. “Okay, chat’s done.”
“Ed—”
“Pulling my dead dad into this discussion is about as tasteful as throwing down Hitler in a fight, Wendy. You just don’t do it.”
“Look,” she whispered, “I’m sorry. I just wanted to explain why I can’t have a normal relationship with you or with anyone. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“Hell,” he said and grabbed her by the shoulders, yanked her forward, and kissed her. His lips ground against hers for several seconds, but there was little passion in it. It was simple angry punishment in the shape of her best friend’s mouth. Wendy, stunned by the onslaught, held still in his grip and slowly Eddie’s touch softened, his kiss deepened, and she could feel a damp spot on her cheek, warm and wet against her skin.
When he drew back they were both breathing raggedly, Eddie’s chest hitching softly, and Wendy trembling.
“Well,” she said, striving for lightness, “that was a jackass thing to do.”
“I know. I know! And you didn’t deserve that,” Eddie muttered, shamed, pressing his forehead against the wheel. He pounded the dashboard once, twice. “I’m sorry. I just…I—”
“I’m not mad about it,” she said evenly, letting her galloping heart slow before she dared open the door. “I said a shitty thing, you did a shitty thing, but we’re best friends. As far as I’m concerned we’re even. And stop beating up your car. Your mom’ll kill you.”
“Wendy—”
“Shush. ‘Grrr, me Tarzan, you Jane, so shut up, woman’ won’t cut it. I’ve known you since we were five and plus, it’s totally not hot. I’m not going anywhere, even if you did just try to cop a feel.”
Eddie half-laughed, grateful for her easy dismissal, and shook his head. The shock was fading from his eyes. “I only tried to cop a feel? I thought I scored a direct hit.”
“Whole lotta padding on this corset,” Wendy replied blithely. She knew she was letting Eddie off easy, but Wendy was tired of discussing it. Case closed.
“Darn, foiled again.” He rubbed his hands along the steering wheel. “My charms have failed. I shall have to soothe my wounded ego with another.”
Wendy rolled her eyes. “Please. You’re so hard up lately that you’d kiss a doorstop if it was halfway cute.” She made a kissy face at him and batted her eyes.
“True,” he said, shrugging. “I am an equal opportunity sort of Romeo.” He grinned then, slightly reddened eyes twinkling and teeth flashing in a heart-stoppingly dangerous way. “But we’re okay?”
“Yeah, yeah. You’re stuck with me. BFFs for life, yo.” She patted him on the shoulder. “I keep you from being bored, you keep me sane. Also, yay, backrubs.”
Eddie chuckled, amused at her posturing. “BFFs are a given. But don’t you at least want to see what the fuss is all about?” He waved his hand between them. “I mean, romantically?”
“With you?” Wendy braced herself with a wide, bright grin, and then lied so hard it ached inside. “Nah.”
Eddie shook his head. “Now who’s pushing people away? You really need to follow my example and at least dip your toe in the dating pool…puddle. A dating teaspoon, even.”
Gathering up her purse, Wendy snorted in reply. “Isn’t dating a BFF’s ex a major debacle? Anyone I’d like, you’ve probably already been there and done that.”
“You wound me, dear. I’m not a total slut. Anymore.” Eddie popped the trunk to fetch his bag and Wendy slapped the button for the soft-top to cycle closed, waiting until all the latches were in place to fetch the rest of her own things. The first bell rang and Wendy hurried off, leaving Eddie, as usual, to catch up.
Part of her loved Eddie and always would, but he didn’t understand her situation. He’d already proven that he didn’t get why she felt so guilty and torn. Wendy grimaced. Eddie thought letting her mother stay missing was a good thing.
Wendy knew, Eddie or no, that she had to find her mom.
