SUMMARY: America has become a dystopia where ghosts are the dominant forces, and humans are being put through what can only be called a genocide. The resistors of the fiasco hear about a boy who has the power to turn from ghost to human. With his powers they could get inside the ghost's society, overthrow the dictator, and return humans to their previous glory. The only problem is, they have the gain his trust first. And to do that, he has to fall in love. What better candidate for the ruse than Sam Manson?
So firstly I'd like to say that this story DOES contain OC's. But they're mostly minor characters (except for Elliot, who I tried not to turn into a Gary-Sue. He's still not the main point of the story though). Secondly, I didn't write much because I wanted to know if people were interested in the idea first. Thirdly, this is a slightly more mature story. If you can't handle character death or some minor cussing, I wouldn't recommend this story. Now go on and read!
The floor was spotless, she was sure. Absolutely spotless. She looked towards Gunther, one of the kinder ghosts, for approval. He waved his hand dismissively at her.
"Go," he flicked a quarter towards her. "Stay out of trouble, Samantha. I may not have forgotten what it was like to be human once, but the others surely have."
She was about to correct him, 'Sam. It's Sam,' she would always say, but decided against it. Instead she picked up the quarter and scurried out of the house. Her breath fogged in the air as she walked along the sidewalk. America, once it had become overtaken with ghosts, became a tundra. She had no idea how the other parts of the world had fared. There was no TV, internet, newspaper. No way to possibly communicate with others outside of Amity Park, and that was just how the ghosts liked it.
In the beginning, she had assumed the putrid scent of burning flesh was due to all the homes that were being set ablaze. She quickly realized that burning was what ghosts smelled like. Ghosts enjoyed chaos. Much like humans, but magnified to a degree where they couldn't sit idly by and twiddle their thumbs and wait for the next big disaster to hit. Many innocent people, families, had become homeless, and died in a couple of days once their insides had completely froze over. The fires that were raging from Oakland to New York did nothing to help the extreme cold. Ghost Fire, as they all knew, burned unlike true fire. It disintegrated any flesh within a couple of miles of it.
Thousands were massacred in a radical attempt to bring up the ghost's numbers. It had worked, of course. Eventually everything slowed down to a dull hum as some returned to the Ghost Zone when they realized the conditions of the human world were less than desirable. Others persevered on, enslaving and torturing humans. Creating governments and changing the rules, turning towns and cities into alien wastelands.
If an official or officer – called Crudes by the humans - caught a person out on the streets, there was no rule preventing them from throwing them into a prison, capturing them, or killing them on spot. This thought made Sam quicken her pace. She thought bitterly back to the days before the ghost's arrival. The mayor had been conducting illegal experiments. News had been released of a possible portal that could lead into the "Ghost Zone". The mayor's intentions after the first few visits into the Ghost Zone had become clear, he wanted to blow it up. Whatever he saw in that world, he did not want coming into theirs. But his good intentions turned sour when the ghosts crossed through the portals and began their rampages. You thought you could destroy us? They were trying to say. Well take this, and that, and this!
Vlad Masters had promptly disappeared. Naturally, it was assumed he had been killed. By humans or by ghosts, it wasn't clear.
Sam stopped out a manhole, looked left and right for cover, and pulled the lid off effortlessly. The underside of it had a five-point star drawn on with white chalk. It was already beginning to fade, so Sam took some chalk out of her pocket and quickly retraced the lines, then jumped into the hole. She dropped into a dark cavern. It smelled like dirty water and waste, but it was clear of the smell of anything burning. It was completely silent except for the dripping sound that lay somewhere in the distance. She walked towards a faint light that lay at the end of the tunnel. It grew brighter and bigger until she was standing right in front of it, the voices of her friends filling the air.
"Sam," someone said, running up to her. "Where the hell have you been? We thought a Crude got you."
"Sorry, Val," she said, taking the quarter out of her pocket and tossing it to the girl. "Just trying to support the resistance. Food is more of a necessity than artillery, you know."
"It's pointless," sad Valerie, shaking her head. "Money has no meaning anymore. Food production has come to almost a complete stop. Ghosts don't need-"
"Ghosts don't need food," interrupted Sam. "I know, I know. But they have to keep us alive. Who would they push around otherwise?"
Valerie growled deep in her throat, tossing the quarter into the air. "I swear, if I hated ghosts before, I'm about ready to side with Masters on the whole blow them all up thing now."
Sam shook her head and took her boots off. Their hideout was a huge concrete circle that lay below ground. It was dry and safe and sometimes even warm, better than the conditions above ground. Unrecognizable symbols were drawn on the walls with spray paint. Elliot, the son of a historian, had been the artist. He stood playing pool with Dash Baxter and Kwan Park.
"They're supposed to keep out ghosts, evil," he had said. That hadn't been tested due to the fact that their secret hideout was still, in fact, a secret.
Dash and Kwan groaned as he won another game. "Don't be sore losers now, boys. A deal is a deal."
It was common custom for whoever lost the pool game to go hunting. It wasn't literal prey hunting. There were woods on the outskirts of Amity, but it took an hour to get to them, and by then you'd have wasted all your energy. The deer and game in that area had been hunted to the brink of extinction anyway. All that was left there was rodents and insects. It was a last resort.
The job of the hunter was to wander around town, look into trashcans and beg when possible. Usually one would be able to come up with a few scraps of food, not enough to feed a group of six, but enough to get by. It was a gruesome job that involved late hours and the imminent danger of being taken by a Crude, and even then your only reward would be a cat carcass and a few scraps of rotten bread.
"He's got to be cheating," said Kwan to Dash, not too quietly. While they bickered over trivial things, Elliot walked up to Sam and grabbed her waist.
"Hello there, sunshine. Care for our last scraps of rat?" a Scottish accent laced his words, and he smiled brightly at her.
Sam grimaced and pushed him away.
"What's with him?" asked Sam to no one in particular. Paulina, who was on the couch examining her nails, answered.
"He thinks he's figured out a way to drive the ghosts back, it's ridiculous. The stupidest thing I've ever heard. Ever."
"Oh don't be like that, princess. Just because you're void of all hope doesn't mean the rest of us have to be."
Sam joined Paulina and Valerie on the couch. She couldn't remember the last time she had worn nothing but a skirt and a tank top. Nowadays she was covered head to toe in layers. The only part of her past that remained with her were combat boots. She even had to let go of her vegetarian life-style in order to survive in the new world, the one thing she was always passionate about. She sunk deeper into the couch with these thoughts, as if they weighed her down.
"So, what is it?" she asked. "The idea, I mean."
"I was out in town, right?" he crossed his arms and leaned back on the pool table. Kwan and Dash were both now standing by the couch, intrigued by the conversation. "I was heading towards my dad's old study, because I figured maybe he had some more books on ghosts in there. To get to the damn place, I had to cross an alleyway that led to the other side of the street. That's when I see these Crudes, peeling the skin off a kid for shits and giggles. I was about to head back, because there was really nothing I could do, when the Crudes are attacked. It was like a scene from Spiderman. He dropped out of the sky, started blasting them so hard they ran away with their arses still smoking, and helped the kid onto his feet. The little guy ran away, probably traumatized for life. I don't think the other lad saw me because he leaned against a wall. Then there was a flash of light, and a human lad stood in his place-a human lad! He went from ghost, spooky creepy ghost, to human! Do you have any idea what that means? Do you bunch of dopes have any idea what that implies?"
There was silence for the longest time. Even the drip drop of water that Sam had heard earlier was gone. Then, simultaneously, everyone erupted into laughter.
"You never told us that story," gasped Valerie, her voice the highest Sam had ever heard it. They were all laughing as if it were the first and last time they would in ages. Except for Elliot, who still stood with his arms crossed, eyebrow raised.
"I'm not lyin'. And I sure as hell didn't imagine anything."
"You sure you don't want that bit of rat?" asked Sam. "I think you need it more than I do."
"You have to admit, bro, that's a pretty ridiculous story," said Dash.
"No, bro. Enlighten me on what's so darn ridiculous about it."
The sober expression on Elliot's face made Sam stop laughing. The candles that were positioned around the room – if you could call it that – were beginning to die. The shadows that were being cast on Elliot's face made a shiver ran up Sam's spine. The usual bright-eyed, sandy brown haired boy was gone. The light dust of freckles under his eyes made him look more sullen.
"Elliot," Sam said. "You just have to understand, under our circumstances, it's not good for us to be hopeful. The idea of someone who can go from human to ghost isn't just ridiculous... it's impossible. You can't be both dead and alive."
"Think what you will. I know what I saw, and now I'm going to sleep."
Elliot nestled into his cot in the corner of the room and drifted off to sleep. While he dozed, there was talk amongst the other five.
"What if he's evil?" said Valerie. They sat in a circle on the floor, a deck of cards between them. They played absentmindedly, more focused on the conversation.
"You're talking as if he exists," said Sam.
"He could. I mean, crazier things have happened, right?"
"If you're going to think like that," said Kwan "then big-foot exists and he routinely has tea parties with human-ghost hybrids that go around saving little kids."
There was a half-hearted chuckle.
"You and Kwan should look for him tomorrow," said Paulina. "You two have nothing better to do anyway."
Dash and Kwan rolled their eyes. "Because we want to be walking around in the cold longer than we have to. Sure thing, Paulina."
"Just – If you say anything, let us know, okay?"
"Of course."
"Maybe we should ask Tucker Foley to track him down for us," laughed Sam. "I remember that kid could track a bird from here to Japan with nothing but a GPA."
"You were good friends with him, weren't you?" Paulina grimaced "He was always hitting on me and Star."
Valerie nodded in agreement. "That kid was suborn, I'll tell you that much. What happened to him?"
Sam shrugged and threw down a card. "Disappeared is the best way to describe it. Like most people, I just never saw him again."
Then they were talking about the old times, of people they used to know and theories of what happened to them. The employees at Nasty Burger, people they would see wandering down the hallways, their teachers, the eccentric Fentons, everything and everyone and they basked in the sweet nostalgia of it all.
"What about Elliot?" asked Sam. "I don't think I ever saw him around town."
"I think he was studying abroad for a couple of months with his dad before the disaster," said Valerie. "Poor guy should have just stayed in Scotland."
There was a groan from the cot. "You know, it's rude to talk about people behind their backs. Why are you all still up? It's about six in the mornin'."
"How do you know?" asked Dash.
"I have the best internal clock of any man dead or alive, mate," he said, sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He stood up and grabbed his jacket. "I'm headin' out to the woods. If you're not all dead from your little all nighter, then feel free to join."
"Now that you mention it," said Valerie, yawning and laying back down on the floor. "I'm beat."
The rest naturally agreed, shuffling and settling down for sleep. Down in the dark sewers of Amity, night and day was subjectable. Candles on? It's day time. Candles off? Time to go to sleep. But Sam had to know...
"Why the woods? If you're going to be looking for food, then Dash and Kwan are supposed-"
He shook his head. "It's not that, love. I'm going to be looking for someone is all."
"So we're playing the pet names game now? It's quite condescending, darling, if I do say so myself," she crossed her arms. "And don't tell me, searching for our mysterious ghost boy? Why the woods?"
"Well," he smiled and pushed his hair back "I like pet names better than "Sam". It's a bit repetitive, sweetheart. Oh and, call it a hunch. I don't think he'd hang around in a heavily populated area. It's become a mission of mine to make the lot of you eat your words."
Sam scrunched up her face. "You egotistical, stubborn, stubborn, annoying idiot! You're wasting your time. You're not going to find him!"
Elliot whistled and smiled, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets. "Just watch me."
He walked out and into the main sewer, his footsteps growing fainter and fainter until the sound of the manhole being lifted signaled his exit. Sam sighed and slumped down against a wall. The bit of untouched rat sat in the corner, flies buzzing around the burnt flesh. Oh, what she wouldn't give for a hamburger. If she got the chance to, she would never dismiss the opportunity ever again. She hadn't noticed she was gradually falling deeper and deeper into sleep, and before she knew it, she was being shaken awake.
"Sam, Samantha! Wake up, you lazy arse. Guess what?"
She opened bleary eyes to Elliot standing above her. Green eyes alert and a smile so bright it seemed almost contagious.
"What're you so happy about?" then she remembered. "Urgh, you found him, didn't you? Get out of my face."
Elliot scoffed and stood back. "No, I didn't find him. I found something better," he took a step sideways, revealing a deer carcass. "But I'm not sharing with you. Mean people don't deserve deer."
"You big baby," she yawned and sat up a bit, then practically jumped up when she processed what he had said. "I could almost kiss you!"
A pillow was chugged in their direction. "Get a room and let us sleep!" screamed Paulina.
Sam ignored her, far too excited to care. "How? You practically just ordered steak off a menu of that consists of chicken nuggets. How did you even manage to drag the thing this far without collapsing or getting mugged? Elliot, you're becoming a useful addition to the resistance!"
He raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, never mind the fact that I've kept us alive so far," he pointed at the symbols etched on the walls "and kept us from being found. Also, for goodness sake, can we please come up with a plan?"
"I thought we had a plan. Find your ghost kid."
"Yeah, well, we need another one. Just in case."
"Later," she said, pushing him aside. "First, we feast."
And once everyone else woke up, feast they did. It turns out that Elliot hadn't actually hunted the deer, but found it. It was still bleeding when he did, so it had been a fresh kill. Whoever had left it behind was obviously well fed because everyone Elliot knew would fight to the death for a deer. Even then, as ghosts, they probably would be reluctant to leave it behind. The transportation part had been a bit more difficult. Long story short, it had been through sheer perseverance and luck that Elliot had managed to drag it as far as he did without getting caught. Everyone agreed on giving him the best and biggest pieces.
"So, about that plan," said Valery, roasting the last bit of meat over the fire. "What've we got?"
"Let's gather what we know first," said Sam. "Plasmius is our aim, correct? Kill the ghost, their society crumbles. Ghosts can't think for themselves and maintain order and chaos as well as they have been so far. Kill their voice of instruction, kill their intelligence, and the rest goes from there."
Plasmius had become their dictator once the initial wave of ghost influx had ended. How he rose to power and managed to maintain it was a mystery. Most ghosts were stupid fickle creatures, but they didn't like being told what to do. She herself had never seen Plasmius, just heard rumors. He was described as a giant, with spiky hair and dead skin. Eyes that looked like they led to hell itself and a voice like roaring thunder. He did not sound pleasant, in the least.
"Right," said Elliot. She cringed as he poked a bit of meat out from between his teeth. Her love hate relationship with meat would never end, she thought.
"But the issues at hand are how the hell do we get close enough to the guy? And then, how do you kill a ghost?"
Dash groaned. "One step at a time you guys, one step at a time."
"Wouldn't want overuse your brain," laughed Kwan.
"Shut up, Park."
"You shut up, Baxter."
"Cut it out, you neanderthals," snapped Valerie.
"Anyway," sighed Paulina, leaning back against the couch. "Maybe we could, like... What if we became ghosts? Then we could walk around wherever, do whatever, you know!"
Valerie gave Paulina a disgusted look. "No, you idiot. We have to stay human, no matter what it takes. This is about them against us. Who's the bigger baddie."
Paulina huffed. "Well, what if we hire some ghosts to help us?"
Elliot shook his head. "Don't think for a single second that they wouldn't rat us out."
"Well, then..." Paulina crossed her arms and pouted "I don't know."
"I'm going back tomorrow, to the woods," said Elliot. "And for the love of God, be productive yeah? Don't just sit around and wait for papa Elliot to bring home the chicken."
Dash groaned and rubbed his stomach.
"Deer is nice and all, but what I wouldn't give for chicken."
"Fried chicken," muttered Kwan soulfully, his eyebrows hitched in a pathetic expression.
Elliot rubbed the bridge of his nose.
In the early morning, once everyone was asleep, he once again set out for the forest. He had read books on hunting when he was younger, since there really was nothing better to do in the green country side where he had grown up. His father always pressed the importance on reading books you don't enjoy, since those would become the most valuable. It turned out to be true. He would walk in the direction that the birds flew away from, pay attention to the dark or worn out spots on trees, use every sense seperatley. It would usually lead him to an animal carcass. Not a deer, but a possum or raccoon and those were just as good. He could never manage to hunt down the object of his desires though. Although he could smell burning on the surrounding trees and sometimes the dead animals themselves, and his body would be racked with chills and goosebumps the way it always did when he was around ghosts.
On the fifth day of going to the forest, he stumbled on a PDA. It was broken beyond repair, pieces of grass sticking out from the cracks in the screen, but he pocketed it. He didn't notice the shadow that trailed him once he began walking home. He pulled the manhole lid off, dropped into it like he did every day, and was greeted with pats on the back and a fire to roast his latest "catch" on.
Dinner that night was solemn, no one talked much. The fire that popped and cackled between them was all anyone listened to. Finally, Sam decided to break the silence.
"Your father's study," said Sam. "You were trying to see if there were any books on killing ghosts, weren't you?"
"Yeah," he said "Exactly."
"I'm thinking maybe we should go tomorrow, there might be something useful. Forget the ghostboy for a little while."
He shook his head. "His study is on the other side of town. It's far more populated. Besides, I feel like I'm getting really close. This is more important right now," he took out the PDA and dropped it at their feet.
"A PDA?" said Valerie. "What would a ghost want with a PDA?"
"I don't know, but at least this means that someone is living with in the woods. So-"
There was a loud knock, then the sound of the manhole lid being opened and flinged. They were still for a moment, then they were all scrambling and grabbing weapons. Bats, crowbars, even screwdrivers that they had laying around. Footsteps steadily approached their hideout, the sound of water splashing on boots, then a woosh.
Elliot didn't feel himself drop his bat. At the entrance stood a ghost, clad in a white and black jumpsuit, his hair a silver halo and his eyes glowing like the insides of a firefly. He was surprised to see his hands up against the entrance, like he was placing them on glass, unable to pass through. Elliot's runes had worked. He'd be lying if he'd said he though they would. What startled him most though was the expression in the ghost's eyes. Rage.
"That's him," he mumbled. "That's the ghostboy."