The Ghost Girl

1

February 2017 - 11 p.m.

Officer Hamlin

On the night the Ghost Girl appeared, Officer Hamlin couldn't decide what was worse, the hunger eating away at his stomach, or the migraine pounding away at his temple. His gaze wavered from the rain-soaked highway and drifted, once again, toward the sandwich sitting atop his workbag. His stomach grumbled and as if on queue, he let loose an acid filled belch that seared his throat and brought tears to his sleep-deprived eyes.

He drummed his fingers impatiently against the steering wheel and made up his mind. A hot meal would've been ideal, but that wasn't going to happen. He snagged the sandwich off his bag and struggled with one hand to peel back the foil before taking a massive bite. A glob of mustered oozed out. It dripped down the side of his hand and spattered onto the leg of his black uniform, staining it.

"Goddammit." He grunted around the mouth full of food and glared at the blob of bright yellow. He swiped a fingertip over the mess and issued another string of curse words when it smeared deeper into the fabric.

With his attention diverted from the road, he hadn't noticed the changes occurring around him. The rain fell harder, making it harder to see. If Officer Hamlin were paying attention, he would have noticed the movement up ahead on the side of the highway. Something had emerged from the pines. Was staggering toward the road.

Hamlin didn't know what made him look up at that precise moment, but he did later. As he was retelling his story, he'd chalked it up to pure fate stepping in.

His head shot up from his lap just in time to spot the pale form staggering out of the trees and right into the path of his speeding patrol car. He dropped the sandwich, sending bread and deli meat to his lap and screamed.

"Son of a bitch!" He slammed his foot against the brake and jerked the steering wheel to the side, nearly missing the thing in the road.

Then chaos reputed.

Hamlin's patrol car skidded over the asphalt. It managed to complete a half circle before slamming against the trees lining the opposite side of the road. The windows on the passenger side shattered on impact. He had just enough time to cover his head as shards of glass pelted over his raised arms.

Then everything was quiet.

Too quiet.

Lighting illuminated the darkness. Moments later, thunder cracked overhead, and the clouds opened up. All there was, was the rain and Hamlin's labored breathing.

The windshield wipers were broken, making it nearly impossible to see anything past the flooded glass. But still, he tried. He squinted into the darkness beyond the window, trying to make sense of the muddled headlights. When nothing could be deciphered, he fell back against his seat in frustration and sighed.

Get a hold of yourself, old man. Your God damn eyes are playing tricks on you. Ain't nothin' out there but you and the road. There ain't nothing to be afraid of. He rubbed his hands over his face. A second, much deeper sigh slipped past his lips when he added. And whatever the hell that thing was.

A flash of white skin and dark hair dashed briefly through the beams of light. This time he did see it, he saw all of it and screamed like a little boy. The high-pitched cry echoed around him, "Oh dear God! What the fuck is going on?"

Officer Hamlin withdrew his gun with shaking hands and squinted out into the darkness, waiting for the thing to return. He was almost daring it to because this time he was ready to face whatever it was.

But nothing came.

There was only rainfall, the car, and a terrified old man who was one year away from retiring unless he dropped dead of a heart attack tonight. He scanned the road with narrowed eyes then turned toward the gaping passenger windows. His left shoulder ached and his chest felt tighter than normal.

All clear. Hamlin reached out, fumbling blindly for the handset radio, and brought it to his mouth.

"This is Officer Hamlin." He licked his lips nervously and glanced around again. "I got a bit of a situation here." He considered requesting a new pair of pants as well since he'd just about shit himself but released the button before he could commit this act of embarrassment.

There was a long stretch of static before a husky, smokers voice filled the car, "Hit another deer, Hamlin?" The woman drew out his name before laughing.

"No Doris, I didn't hit another deer." He mimicked her thick Boston accent almost perfectly sans the smokers voice.

"Ya got to work on them vowels a little more, Asshole," She rebuffed instantly then added, "What's ya position? I'll see if we can get someone out to collect ya."

"I'm on the corner of who gives a shit, and I don't fuckin' know." He tried to recall the last sign he passed on the highway but for the life of him he couldn't.

"Ya kiss your wife with that filthy mouth?"

"I'd kiss her every God damn night again if I could. God rest her soul."

"Awe, Christ Hamlin." A momentary silence settled between the two. "How long?" For a second Hamlin could hear the sympathy coloring her tone.

Hamlin cleared his throat before pressing the button to speak, "Been almost a year now."

In four days, at precisely 6:34 am, it'd be one full year since she left me. And no, the pain never stops. It's there when I wake up, and there I go to bed. He wanted to add but held that bit of information back.

In the end, Hamlin's wife was bed bound and delirious, pumped full of enough drugs to kill a horse, yet barely enough to ease her pain during those final days. Cancer was a bitch like that. It eroded flesh and bone, leaving nothing but death and decay in its wake. It knew nothing of race or gender because, to it, everyone was enough.

"Are ya still there Hamlin?"

He quickly dragged the back of an old, sun-spotted hand across his cheeks to dry them and cleared his throat. "Yeah, I'm here. I'm here. Anyway, I'm a little outside of Cadence, I think. Maybe ten miles out."

"So what'd you hit?"

"Somethin' came outta the trees but I don't think I hit it."

"Well that's a first."

"I swerved to miss it, but I must have hit an oil patch because I skidded into-"

There was movement on his left as something slammed against his door, rocking the car against the trees. That hideous high-pitched noise filled the air again and this time Hamlin knew it was coming from him.

"Holy shit!" He shrieked, and this time he did piss himself. A hot circle of urine spread out on the front of his pants.

"Hamlin! What happened? What's the matta?" Doris's voice hardened, becoming serious. "You answer me, God dammit!"

Officer Hamlin's eyes widened. His heart pounded against his chest as he tried to catch his breath. Struggling, he pulled the radio to his mouth. "Doris. I'm gonna need an ambulance." He rubbed at his tightening chest, "Make that two. I think I'm having a heart attack." The radio slipped from his fingers and fell against his thigh, and he struggled to breathe through the pain.

The pale form that had come from the trees had returned for him. He knew what it was now. It was a woman, a naked one at that, with feral eyes that burned into his, and matted, rain-soaked hair. Her dirty hands were frozen into half curled claws which now pounded and clawed against the glass in rapid, but weakening blows.

She fought to open her mouth. Her quivering lips were trying to form words, "H…he...lp…p…p"

And for the first time in Officer Hamlin's career, he didn't know what to do.