When We Leave the Diner: A Ghost Story 2 (complete)

It’s hard to imagine why they would leave this place in ruins. Fearing a curse doesn’t seem like the logical thing to do. Whether it was money, politics, or something else that caused this town to abandon itself and rebuild further away, I’m sure the fire was just the final straw.

The stillness is what gets to me the most. I can stand stillness in the woods, or when I’m home alone. Here, though, the quiet that permeates the air is very unnatural. I can feel the life that once lived here, that’s still supposed to be here. I don’t hear any birds. There is no wind in the trees. It all feels so sealed in, trapped in a way. I try to send pictures to my daughter, but there’s no service. Once I step beyond the fence, the rest of the world falls away.

I come upon what must have been a garage. The blue paint is chipping off, but I can see the outline of the red logo above the windows. One of the large garage doors is open, while the other has come apart over time and fallen off. Inside there’s still a car, rusted and collapsed into the floorboards. The sides have buckled and the rotted rubber tires are splayed outwards. Dust, debris and weeds gather in the corners, coming up from the cracks in the concrete floor. In the window are sun-bleached photos of baseball players and newspaper clippings, rusted trophies. A nearly-disintegrated banner on the floor reads, “Congratulations, James”.

“Oh, wow. This is where he worked.” I try the door, but the handle falls off in my hands. I drop it, letting it clatter on the ground, deafening in the silence. I step away from it, returning to  the road to the hospital. The closer I get to it, the more I see the effects of the fire. The grounds become darker, the buildings more noticeably jagged and charred and decaying.

The hospital is - perhaps was - a large ‘L’ shape. The front of the building is all brick with a wide glass door, now broken, shattered, and hanging off its hinges. Behind it, the interior is all burnt away to nothing. Plants choke the rubble. I’m sure inside there is nothing but smoke damage and charcoal walls. I walk through the broken doors, fully aware this is probably a foolish thing to do, just like walking through this town at all. I step into the lobby, which remains in the chaos it has stayed in since the fire all those decades ago.

“Well,” I murmur to myself. “You certainly knew how to make an entrance, Mama. Guess you had to start that way somehow.” I take the bag off my shoulders and hold it in my arms. The lobby smells of rot, ash and dirt. The air is cold, but somehow my arms and the back of my neck feel hot and muggy. I step closer to the front desk and see papers scattered everywhere, a filing cabinet toppled over and blocking a door.

There’s a second set of doors that lead into the main part of the hospital. Parts of the glass are shattered, but the rest is stained black from smoke and dirt. I test my luck a third time, and find they still open. The hinges crackle and groan with age, but as the doors close they make no sound.

The marble floor before me is pristine, and the scent of ash is washed away by rubbing alcohol and other disinfectant. I look up to see pale blue walls, vivid red crosses, and a nurse in an immaculate white uniform coming towards me.

The nurse pushes past me, almost like I’m not there, pulls open the doors and guides in a wheelchair with a girl sitting in it. The girl is screaming, clutching her pregnant belly. Behind her, blood drips onto the marble as the wheelchair is taken inside. The doors shut on a man’s arm as he tries to reach inside after her.

The girl wails, looking directly at me as she’s wheeled away. Her young face is contorted in agony, but I recognize her as the girl who picked me up on the road. She continues to look at me, even as she’s wheeled into a room down the hall.

“Get rid of it!” the man shouts from the doors.

I turn to get a look at him, but the glass is blackened and cracked. The hall beyond is abandoned and rotted away, like the rest of the hospital. Maybe this place is cursed. Maybe the whole damn town is haunted and filled with ghosts. I wouldn’t doubt it now.

I enter the room where the girl was taken. All the walls here are charred by smoke. I focus on the sooty ceiling, which puckers and hangs open, and the wallpaper is coming off the walls. Decaying sheets drape over the floor, and a table is turned over. Chairs are rusted and falling apart. But the bed remains, and on the threadbare sheets I can see the corpse of the girl.

“They just left you here,” I whisper in horror. “They just...” I have to take a step back. I cup my hand over my mouth and, despite the chill in the room, sweat pours down the back of my neck. Smoke burns deep within my throat, and when I breathe out, black fumes billow from my lungs.

I run from the room, barely able to catch my breath or even hold one. The blackened doors open, and I’m faced with a waiting room full of people. The nurse at the front desk looks at me, slowly setting aside the telephone in her hand. The world stands still as they wait for me to speak.

I leave, running outside to find an ambulance pulling up out front. I can hear the screaming of a young woman inside, but I hurry away. The road I came up before now has cars driving along it. I go down the sidewalks, which are like new. The buildings are lit up, and there is life all around me. I stumble and fall just outside the garage.

“Ma’am, are you alright?” A young man comes from inside and helps me up. “You lost or something?” His eyes are red and swollen, and there are tears gathered in the corners. His cheek is swollen from taking a punch, and his shirt is ripped. Behind him, burly men are watching with sad but protective glints in their eyes.

“I’m fine.” I gather myself, pushing my hair away from my face. “I’m just… Yeah, lost is the right word,” I sniffle.

“If you need help, I’m just leaving town,” the young man says simply. “I can get you out of here.”

The window that had once been full of faded news clippings and pictures is bright and polished, and everything is as vivid as the day it was printed. The young man is in most of the pictures, and a graduation photo is posed between two large baseball trophies. The banner that had been disintegrating into nothing now hangs up for the whole world to see.

“Are you James?” I ask.

“Yeah.” He doesn’t sound too pleased about it. “I’m heading to school.”

I don’t know what’s happening to me, or why I’m seeing these things. I keep expecting Rod Serling’s deep voice to come through the air and explain my predicament, tell me whether it’s punishment or irony.  I check to make sure my mother’s ashes are still with me, patting the bag gently. “You don’t seem happy about it.”

“I’m not.” He turns and motions to his car. “You got a car, ma’am?”

That first vision I had seen - the flaming car that flew off the Devil’s Backbone - it was a car just like James’. A red Bel Air.

“I’m at the hotel,” I whisper.

James nods, wiping his face with his back turned. “I’ll take you then. I’ll pass right by it.”

“That road is terrifying. Surely there’s another way out.”

“No other way,” James replies. “Only through.”

I get into the old car with James. As we drive away silently, he continues to force himself to hold a stiff upper lip. “What’s the matter?” I ask him. “You look sad.”

“Nothing for you to worry about, ma’am.” He forces bravado into his charming smile. “Just gonna miss home, is all.”

I think about the pregnant girl, knowing she’s why he’s bruised and crying. “Is it a girl?”

James goes stiff.

“I know I’m just a stranger, young man, but I do have a son around your age. I would hope, if he needed help, someone would offer it to him.”

James stops the car where the gates were when I came in. He stares out the window and, as I follow his gaze, I see my car and the rest of the world I know outside.

“Her dad won’t let me see her,” he whispers.

“Did something happen?” I ask. “Maybe I could talk to him for you.”

His head shakes, tousling his hair before smoothing it back again. “No. No… No,” his voice becomes a pained whimper. “I can’t...”

I reach out, placing my hand on James’ arm. The fabric of his jacket melts away, and the soft skin of his cheek peels back and rips aside. The bone of his jaw cracks and splinters, and teeth fall through his peeling flesh. His hair singes from the tips, hissing all the way down to his scalp, which turns black, then red, then melts away to show skull.

“What’s her name?” I whisper.

“Cheryl,” he croaks, spewing smoke. “I called her Cherry.” He looks at me, half of him perfect, the other half marred by fire. “She’s got hair like yours.”

I slide my hand down his arm and take hold of his hand. “She’s at the hospital. Thank you for your help.”

get out of the car, which bursts into flames as soon as I close the door. I look through the cracked windshield as James burns inside and puts the car in reverse.

Behind him, the town goes up in flames.

My back touches the gate, and I see a man looking over my car. He looks up and furrows his brow at me. “Where’d you come from?” He unlocks the gate and lets me out. “You’re not a kid.”

“Used to be.” I hurry to my car and stop to look back at him. “I’m sorry, I was just...” I point back to the town. “My mother was born here, I think.”

He locks the gate again and tilts his head. “This place is dangerous. You’re lucky you didn’t get hurt in there. We’ve had some folks go missing. I have to keep a close eye on the place.”

“Do you own this property?” I ask.

“Unfortunately.” He steps back and looks up. “My dad thought this place would be great to develop, and that we could expand the hotel.”

“What happened?”

The man adjusts the brim of his hat. “Told you, some folks went missing.”

“You own the hotel at the end of the Devil’s Backbone, then.”

“My sister and I,” he grumps.

My car has a level of dust and leaves on it that I don’t remember leaving it with. My hand smears through it, leaving a film of ashy duston my palm. “People have been telling me this place is cursed. As a local, have you got any stake in that rumor? Or do you think it’s all stories to scare people?”

“What have you seen?” he asks.

“I’ve seen James,” I answer honestly.

The man sniffs and shakes his head. “No one sees James and lives to tell about it.” He turns and glares at me. “You got a camera on you? One of those fucking ghost hunters?”

“No!” I say quickly. “I told you, my mother was born here.” I hold up the bag. “These are her ashes!”

He yanks the bag from me, opening it up to see the sealed tupperware container inside. He looks at me in confusion.

“She held lots of tupperware parties back in the day.”

He chuckles and shoves the bag back at me. “When was she born? Maybe someone knows her.”

I shake my head. “I doubt it. She was adopted, and her birth certificate says she was born the day of the fire, so...”

“You’re full of shit.”

“I wish I was, sir!” I laugh. “I really wish I was. After everything I’ve seen the last two days, I just...” I laugh a bit more and shake my head. “I just wanted one last second with my mom. I wanted to know where she came from, why she was given up. I couldn’t just let it go.”

The man takes off his hat, revealing red hair like mine. “I’m sorry about your mom. I am. I know what it’s like to not get answers from a parent. But this place isn’t safe, and you’re old enough to know how stupid that is.”

“There’s unrest here,” I sniffle.

“No shit.” He points to my car. “That’s why you should go.”

It’s gotten late again, so I go back to the hotel. As I check in again, I look at the wall of photographs behind the front desk. After I get a room, I drive back up the Devil’s Backbone. I park the car at the scenic overview and look over the plaques. There’s a memorial about the fire, with names listed of every person who died or went missing. As I’m reading, I hear a car engine revving. I turn around to see the red Bel Air smoldering behind me. The forest begins to glow from its roots, and embers float and dance in the air around me. The world has become a tinderbox that will soon turn to ash.

I swallow my rapidly beating heart from my throat. Cold sweat beads down the back of my neck and my knees threaten to buckle. All of a sudden, I hear a baby crying. The car flickers, and the flame blows out. The glow of the woods behind me fades into the twilight of evening. But the baby’s cries continue, growing louder and louder. I look back at my car, the place where the cries are coming from. Stepping close, I see a baby wrapped up in the bag that held my mother’s ashes. The baby screams and screams and, inside his car, I see James begin to cry as well.

I get into my car, and the baby has become the container of my mom’s ashes. James’ car is gone, and the night is still and quiet again.

Back at the hotel, I decide that tomorrow I’ll simply go back home. I’ll spread my mother’s ashes another time. I lie down to sleep, but sleep doesn’t come easy. I toss and turn in bed, either feeling hot or too cold. I roll over and look up through the darkness to see someone standing over me. In the dim light of the streetlamp outside, I see that this person has red hair like mine. Delirious and exhausted, I begin to cry.

“I just wanted to know Mama, I’m sorry. I’m going home, I promise.” I clasp my hands over my eyes as I weep. “You were so quiet in the end. I just wanted to know!”

Her hand sweeps over my hair, and I smell smoke on her skin.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper.

The hand smooths down over my eyelids, and then pulls away.

I wake to a knock on my door, and rise to morning light pouring through the window. I touch my face and find black ash smeared all over me. There’s another knock, and I get out of bed. “Just a second!” I wash my face off quickly, then go to the door where the man from yesterday is standing. “I’m leaving town today, I swear,” I scoff.

“It’s not that,” he grumbles. “My mother wants to talk to you.”

My brow pinches, and I follow him to the front office. There’s a back room where a little old woman is sitting, enjoying coffee with a donut. She smiles as I come into the room, and her eyes glisten. “My god. You’re the spitting image.”

I look at the man, then down at the old woman. “You… you wanted to talk to me?”

“Yes, dear. My name is Carrie.” She pats the table, offering me a seat. “My son told me your mother was born here.”

“I believe so, yes.” I sit down at the table and she pours me a cup of coffee. “At least, that’s what her birth certificate says.”

“My sister had a baby when she was seventeen. I was fifteen then.” She sits still after setting the coffee pot aside. “She wanted to keep it, wanted to have her family.” A grimace comes to her face. “Our father was against it.”

I glance at the man, then back to her. “Is that my mother, you think?”

She nods. “Looking at you, I know it. Had Cheryl lived, she would have looked like you. But you look like him too. Around the eyes.”

“The father of the baby?” I ask.

She sighs. “James Holden.” Picking up her coffee cup, her eyes become distant. “He was the most beautiful boy I had ever seen. Still is.”

I sink back in my chair as I try to process all of this. “Your sister...”

“I know.” She hangs her head. “There are many people who are left behind up there. But I could only carry the baby. The fire came too fast, I still can’t remember everything that happened that night.”

I look back at her, seeing something of my mother in her. “I keep seeing James,” I murmur. “I saw his car go off the Devil’s Backbone when I first came here, and I’ve seen him in other places since.”

“He came back that night of the fire too. My father didn’t want him to, but he did just to spite him.”

“Mom,” the man says.

I look at Carrie and narrow my eyes. “What do you mean?”

“That poor boy,” she sighs. “He had so much promise, but my father hated him so much for what he did to Cheryl.”

“Shit,” I whisper.

The man sits down and places his hand over his mother’s.

“No wonder James is angry.” I put my head into my palms, rubbing my eyes.

“I always hoped one day your mother would come back here, and that maybe her presence could quell the anger that festers in that town.” Her eyes look up to me. “I am sorry to hear that she is gone.”

“I have her with me,” I sniffle.

Carrie smiles. “Do you mind if I see her?”

I go to my room and bring back the tupperware container with her ashes. Carrie holds it between her palms with a soft smile. “I only got to hold her once, and it was a mad dash from the hospital. She was bigger than this, I swear it.”

“She never knew she was adopted until the end,” I reply. “I’m sure if she knew when she was younger, she would have come.”

“These things are out of our control.” She pushes the container back to me. “I’m sure, if you knew what lay down your road, you’d act quicker too.”

“Do you mind if I go back to the hospital?” I ask.

“It’s a risk,” the man says sternly.

Carrie looks up again. “My husband still hasn’t come back from there, you know. But he was an asshole.”

“Mom,” he scolds.

“I think I need to go back,” I say confidently.

The man takes me back to the gates, but doesn’t go in with me. I walk back up the broken, craggy road to the hospital. I hear voices around me, whispers that circle and scatter like leaves on the wind. The hospital door is open, as I walk in and stand in Cheryl’s room again. Her body covered by the sheet moves as if she’s breathing. Her chest rises and falls slowly, and I can hear the soft breaths as I step closer.

I take the tupperware container and place it on her belly. Her hands rise under the sheets and gently clasp around it. I hear a baby crying in the distance, a little girl screaming they have to go back, and a man yelling that it’s too late.

Cheryl sits up in her bed with the sheet still clinging to her face. She strokes the container with her hand and turns her head to face me.

“Her name was Lori,” I sniffle. “She became a nurse. She raised me alone. Her husband left before...” I shake my head and step closer to the bed. “He doesn’t matter. She was happy where she was. She loved being a grandmother.”

Cheryl raises her hand, and smooth skin touches my cheek. She wipes away my tears and cups my face tenderly. I take her hand in mine, and it turns to dust.

The bed is empty aside from the ash. I scoop it up, placing it into the container with my mom. I leave town with them together, and go back to the Devil’s Backbone. There I stand at the railing, looking up into the sky. “I know you said the ocean, Mama, but I think… I don’t know what I think. This has been the weirdest, most frightening thing I’ve ever done.”

I hug the container to my chest. “I think here, you’ll find peace better than with the ocean.” I pop open the top. “For all of you. I know you’re not here, but something is.” I look back up as the tears come. After a moment, I dump the container down into the ravine. The ashes scatter and float off through the trees, vanishing into the air.

I sit down on the railing, holding the empty container in my hands. I close my eyes and hang my head until I hear a car coming. I wipe my face off and stand up. A red Bel Air pulls up beside me. James and Cheryl are inside. They’re both smiling at me, and in the back seat I see a little girl looking up at me. Cheryl holds something out to me, and I take it. They wave and drive off. The little girl in the back seat turns, looking out the rear window and waving at me.

“Mom, wait...” My voice catches in my throat and I can’t stop the tears as they fall. I wave back and the little girl’s smile is so big.

I sit in my car before I look at the item they handed me. It’s an old car key. I smile at it, slowly rubbing my thumb up and down. I lean back in my seat, looking out the window.

My phone rings, and I quickly answer. “Hello?” I sniffle.

“You okay?” my daughter asks.

I take a deep breath and look out the window. “I’m on my way home, so I will be soon.”

“Mom, what happened?” she asks. “We were getting worried.”

I take the key and place it in the cupholder. “I’ll tell you when I get home, it’s kind of a lot. I’ll have to bring you out here sometime, sweetie. I think you’d like it.”

“Seriously, Mom, you okay?”

“Yeah,” I laugh. “I’ve just been crying, that’s all.”

“It’s okay,” my daughter says gently. “Grandma is still with you, you know.”

I look back at the road, where the Bel Air had been. I smile as I remember the girl in the back seat. “Of course. I know.”