So I missed my third (?!) fanfiction anniversary while I was out of town for a family emergency, but I couldn't let the occasion pass without recognition because what happens on this site is truly amazing. My writing has improved tremendously because of all the thoughtful feedback you've given me and your friendship and reviews got me through some rough patches and I know it will help with this one also. Thank you for bearing with me whether I'm posting a ridiculous amount or maintaining radio silence or some odd combination of the two. If I haven't replied to you yet, know that it's probably because I've read your review a thousand times and don't think I can adequately reply. XD But, seriously, guys, thank you so so so so so much for making fanfiction such an incredible thing for me.
So have this short fic that came out of my trip. Because I was tired and misunderstood the sign for a good fifteen minutes after we'd driven past it and I was very, very confused. This takes place in an unspecified time, quite possibly pre series, because there aren't nearly enough of those.
Detour
January 27, 2014
Jack groaned as every set of taillights ahead of them flashed red. Coming to a complete stop, the GAV rumbled unhappily, echoing the sentiments of everyone inside.
When they didn't so much an inch forward for a minute, Danny stuck his head between the front seats. "Hey, what's wrong? Why aren't we moving? Are we there yet?"
"No, sweetie, we're not there yet," Maddie chuckled. "And it's probably an accident, but I can't see for sure."
Jazz's voice piped up from the back, "Are we still going to be able to get there in time, though? You can't miss this conference!"
"Well, I don't think they'll be starting without us."
"Yeah, we're the ones who are going to be speaking! They can't start without us!"
"Yes, Jack," Maddie deadpanned. Then she sat up. "I think I see some cars moving up ahead. That's a good sign."
Putting the vehicle in drive once more, Jack soon saw the reason for the hold up— a four car pile up spanning almost the entire width of the highway— and the reason they had begun to move again— the stocky policeman resignedly waving an endless stream of vehicles toward an exit ramp on their right.
"Sit back down, Danny; we're moving."
"The road's clear?" Jazz asked.
"Not quite," she answered. "They're rerouting us."
"I hope it's not onto some back roads…" Danny grumbled.
"Yeah, because the RV won't even fit!"
"Jazz, honey," Maddie corrected with long suffering patience. "It's the Ghostly Assault Vehicle, not an RV."
"Yeah!" Jack added. "And she can handle anything!"
"But it's sooo slooooooow," Danny drawled. "Why can't we just hop over the accident and have the road to ourselves?"
"Because that feature isn't ready yet…" Maddie replied absent mindedly as she began to factor the new route into their travel plans. "Looks like we should only have to go through one town before getting back on the highway."
"That's a relief!"
"Yeah, maybe we'll only lose one hour of our lives to this detour instead of two."
But an hour and twenty seven minutes later, they were still in the middle of the detour town, a ramshackle place with a gas station next to a row of uncared for houses and a car wash or auto repair shop every block. Winding their way down a few comically narrow streets given the size of their vehicle, Jack slammed on his breaks, forcing everyone to grab onto the nearest handhold.
"What? What is it?" Maddie asked sharply before they had even come to a halt.
"Ghost!" was the answer.
"Ghost?!" Jazz screamed before covering her mouth with her hand.
"Where, Jack?"
He pointed over to the side of the road where they saw, not a ghost, but about the most clear evidence of one they could ever hope to find. They had come to a stop in front of a house converted into a center for the arts. The kiosk prominently displayed in the front yard said:
Haunted
by K. Daver
Wish a rush, Jack flew out of his seat and grabbed the nearest gun he could find. Maddie did the same, leaving Jazz and Danny to fumble with the door handle so they could follow.
Jack had already made his grand entrance by the time they caught up to him, leveling his gun at an unsuspecting greeter who stood shaking with her hands in the air.
"What do you want?" she managed to ask.
"Where is he?" Jack shouted.
"Where's who?" she squeaked.
"K. Daver!"
"I… I don't know; I've never actually seen him."
Jack lowered his weapon. "So he's not here?"
"Not… at this very moment, no," she said.
Maddie stepped forward, looking formidable and slightly alien with her hood up and goggles on. "How often does he come around?" she asked in a much less grating voice than her husband had been using.
The girl stopped shaking and looked as if she believed that she might just make it out of this encounter alive. "Maybe… once every few weeks?"
"That often?" Both of Maddie's eyebrows rose.
"Well," the girl began to wave her hands around. She clearly wanted to be wringing them together but was too scared to put them down. "He wants to check on his work, see how people react…"
"And is there a pattern to when he appears?"
"Well, uh, I can check the schedule for you…?" she said as she walked to safely put the desk between her and the crazy visitors.
"Excellent, yes, I'll need a copy of that and a list of all the people who have seen him."
The girl stopped with both hands on a file folder. "All… the people…?"
"There are a lot, then?" Maddie asked, swinging the gun around to more comfortably rest against her shoulder.
"Well, yeah."
"And it doesn't bother people… that he's here so often?"
"No…" The girl drew out the sound as if she weren't sure where it was going.
"Business doesn't suffer?" Maddie asked to clarify.
"I think it does better."
"Better? How intriguing."
The girl shrugged as much as she dared and explained, "Yeah, well, he normally drags people along when he comes."
Maddie stepped forward, eager to hear more. "Is he violent toward any of them?"
"Violent? No! I… what?" she asked, floundering in the conversation.
"Because they're all dangerous, you know," Maddie said, stepping closer to the desk and facing the girl down to make her point. After all, lives were at stake. She couldn't let this poor young girl become hoodwinked by a spirit only to fall under it's spell and walk right into the trap. "Even when they don't look it, that's when they'll attack… when it's least suspected."
The girl blinked for a long moment before trying to formulate a response. "I'm… sorry… artists…?"
"What?" Maddie asked.
"What?" the girl replied.
"What?" Jack chimed in.
Then Jazz tugged on her mother's sleeve and pointed to the floor to ceiling painting covering the back wall depicting a young man with dark circles under his eyes and lines of scarlet paint dripping down the background until they reached a small white giraffe in the bottom left hand corner.
When she caught sight of the title, she blanched and turned to the poor confused desk girl.
"I apologize. We'll be leaving now."
"We will?"
"Yes, Jack. We have a conference to attend, remember?"
"But… ghost…" he sputtered.
"It's the painting," Maddie whispered as she led him by the elbow toward the exit.
"The painting's haunted?" Danny asked, trotting behind his parents.
"It's entitled 'Haunted.' By the artist K. Daver," she explained. "There's no ghost. Now get moving, everyone, we're already late."