A/N: Thanks guys for all your kicka** reviews! Ya'll rock! So, here's the next chapter. To get the best effect, I recommend turning out all the lights, turn off your TV, and make sure it's the dead of night before reading! Oh, and if you have any spooky music, that would be good too! Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think.

Chapter 4: Wrath of the Wraith

Alexis landed the jet as she had so many hundred times before, except that she really wasn't the one landing the jet this go-around. Usually she was reluctant to leave the confines of the cockpit after a flight; this time, she couldn't wait to pop the hatch and escape this seemingly demonic piece of machinery. As the jet rolled to a smooth stop, Alexis attempted to open the cockpit. It wouldn't budge. She looked out the glass and saw several of her crew rushing to help her down.

"Please, would you let me out now?" she asked quietly, her voice quavering slightly.

A sharp flash on her radar screen drew her eye. She leaned over and watched as a single word materialized across the screen.

"Remember."

She swallowed and nodded her head. "How could I forget," she mumbled, relief flooding over her body as the hatch slid open. With shaking steps, Alexis climbed out of the jet and allowed Crowbar to help her to the tarmac.

"Well, Captain, how'd she fly for you?" Crowbar greeted her cheerily as Alexis's feet touched down on the concrete. He failed to notice the especially pained expression on her features as he voiced the one question she was dreading.

"Uh, um, well Crow, I have to say that she can almost fly herself," Alexis replied with false cheer.

"Great! Great! Good to hear! We'll see how things go for the rest of the month before we bump you back up to Code One status."

"Uh, sounds great Crow. Say if you don't mind, I really need to get to the flight room and debrief. I'll catch up with you later." With that Alexis quickly trotted off, casting a furtive glance over her shoulder as she went.

"Well, I'll be damned," Crowbar mumbled under his breath, scratching his head in puzzlement.

"What's wrong Crow?" McFarland asked, walking up behind the crew chief.

"Huh? Oh, nothing Scotty. I guess Spades really wanted to get her debrief done. Let's get this bird put up and give it a shakedown."

"Yes sir."

Crowbar cast one last puzzled look at his retreating captain before turning his attention back on the jet and his crew.


For Alexis her post-flight debrief couldn't have finished quicker. She felt jumpy and exceptionally nervous. When people walked up behind her or spoke unexpectedly she would jump slightly as if shocked. At this point she wanted only to retreat to the safe confines of her room and bury herself in a good book.

She entered the mess hall and retrieved a tray for dinner, settling herself in one of the far corners of the large chow hall. Her position allowed her a complete, unobstructed view of the entire room with no fear of anyone sneaking up behind her. Taking a deep breath, she began eat her food, allowing her taxed body to relax for the first time in several hours. A slight darkening over her tray made her look up warily. It was Coldstone Stoner.

"Mind if I sit down, Captain?" he asked a slight sneer in his voice.

"Look Coldstone, if you came to pick a fight with me about what happened earlier, I'm not interested," she said, putting her fork down with slightly more force than necessary. The lieutenant ignored her heated warning and took a seat directly across from her. He looked up and met her cold, jade-colored eyes.

"I didn't come here to fight. Something's up with you, Spades. You're not acting like yourself," he began, for once genuine concern in his voice.

"What's it matter to you?" she snapped.

"Hell, I don't know? Maybe it's because you're in my squadron? You were my wingmate? Any of this ringing a bell with you?"

"You never struck me as the caring type, Coldstone. Why the change in heart?" she asked, taking a bite from her baked potato. He ignored answering her question and jumped straight into another statement.

"You weren't flying like you normally do, Spades. You're not the type to pull stunts like that and you're definitely not the type to go around acting as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. Now would you mind telling me what in the hell is bothering you?"

His colorful simile drew a small smile. "I appreciate your concern, lieutenant, but I don't take orders from you." Abruptly, Alexis stood and took her tray with her, leaving Coldstone alone at the table. She walked over to a trashcan, deposited her meal and immediately left the mess hall.

Coldstone rested his elbows on either side of the tray and ran his hands irritably through his spiky, sandy-colored hair. After several seconds, he slammed one palm down on the table and cursed under his breath. Neither he nor Alexis saw the handsome, dark-haired pilot across the room get up and follow her outside.

After leaving the mess hall, Alexis made her way quickly to her apartment. Never had the door to her sanctuary looked more inviting. She unlocked the door, let herself inside, and then leaned against the door as if that would prevent all the problems of the world from entering. She sighed heavily and laid her head back against the door and slowly sank to the floor. She sat for several long minutes with her head on her knees, replaying the events of the day. Did it really happen? Had she really been threatened by a malevolent spirit? Alexis gave another shuddering sigh before struggling to her feet. She had to have imagined it; she had to. Then another thought crossed her mind—the in-flight camera. All jets were outfitted with one; they helped with the post-flight debriefings as well as provided hard evidence of the pilot's flight. As soon as her flight commander saw the footage from her jet or even from Coldstone's, her tail would be fried. In all honesty what did she have to lose telling Crowbar what really happened? She would most certainly be reprimanded for her actions today, ghost or no ghost. Besides, how in the hell would that spook know if she told anyone anyway? It was trapped within her jet and after today, it wasn't as if she would be flying anytime soon. What was the worst a ghost could do? She had never heard of one killing a living person.

Slowly but steadily, her resolve was returning. A small simmering spark of rebellion was beginning to light in her spirit. Her emerald eyes glanced over to the landline. She pressed her lips into a thin line and strode toward the phone. Something would be done; she would not allow her decisions to be ruled by some paranormal freak of nature, ghost be damned! She cradled the receiver and quickly dialed Crowbar's number. It was a little after 1900 hours; he should be home by now. She heard the line connect and the familiar ringing indicating her call was going through. After four rings, Alexis heard a click as someone picked up the phone.

"Hello?" she said softly, trying to determine if it was the Mr. or the Mrs. Crowbar who had picked up the phone. "Hel-lo, is anyone there? Hello?"

Suddenly a raspy, somewhat high-pitched laugh sounded on the other end. It most definitely wasn't Crowbar or his wife. "Thought you could be smart, didn't you?" the voice mocked.

"Who the hell is this?" Alexis demanded, pulling the phone away from her ear and staring at it as if it were a writhing snake in her hands. "Where's Crowbar?"

"Why Alexis O'Conner, I'm disappointed in you. Surely you have not forgotten our agreement so readily? Remember?"

She nearly dropped the receiver as that very familiar word flashed across her memory. The radar screen. It couldn't be!? But how!? It or he, for it sounded like a he, was in the jet! How in the hell…!?

"How!?" she whispered, the hair rising on the back of neck. She could feel the blood draining from her features. There was another lifeless chuckle on the other line.

"You would be surprised what you can accomplish when you're dead!" the voice hissed poisonously. "Now then, do not try and deceive me again, Alexis O'Conner. This is your last and final warning. Try anything again and you will find horrible things happening not only to yourself, but your friends and allies as well. You wouldn't want their blood on your hands, now would you?"

She shook her head as if he could see her. Her eyes darted around the room feverishly, searching for any sign of possible intrusion. "No," she whispered, "Why are you doing this to me? What have I ever done to you?" she whispered hoarsely into the phone, cold fear making her voice quake.

"You exist," came the bitter reply. "I'm watching you, Alexis O'Conner and I'm waiting; when the time is right I will contact you again. Remember our deal or blood will be spilt!"

Click.

She dropped the phone as if it were the heated end of a branding iron. Tears began to stream down her face. All her previous resolve evaporated like dry ice in a tanning bed. An overwhelming sense of helplessness washed over her body as Alexis stumbled into the bedroom and began to weep into her pillow. Getting help was out of the picture. Somehow, someway this thing knew. Knew what she was doing, or at least what she was going to do. Over and over that raspy voice replayed in her mind—the threats, the coldness, the detachment. Everything one would expect in a ghostly voice from the other side. She shivered at the thought. What was she going to do? What could she do? The phone call was proof that if she revealed its presence, it would know and Alexis didn't even want to imagine what would happen if it found out she tried to break the agreement again.

Suddenly an idea came to her. What if she went to it? What if she confronted this thing head on? Would it stop the harassment? Just the thought of approaching her jet, alone, in the hangar again made her spine tingle uncomfortably, but it just might be the only way to make this whole thing stop. On one hand, she didn't want to push her luck with this…ghost, but on the other hand she really didn't want to wait around to find out what its plans were. If she were going to be stuck with it, she wanted to know exactly who or what she was dealing with, before anyone got hurt.

Slowly peeling herself off the bed, Alexis walked into the bathroom and splashed her face with cold, running water. She patted her face dry with a towel, grabbed her keys and then exited the room. She hoped she wouldn't meet Tomcat on her way out; her roommate would most definitely demand an explanation, one Alexis was not particularly willing to give. Fortunately, however lady luck was with her, but it remained to be seen if she were holding hands with the devil.

Darkness was beginning to settle over the desert and the sun bathed everything in sight with a beautiful golden-brown glow. It was a stunning sight to behold. But unfortunately, the young captain was too preoccupied with her mission to take notice. Alexis approached the hangar slowly and reluctantly. Her eyes were wide with worry and every nerve felt as if it were on a hair-trigger. No one was in the hangar bay. Well, that could be good; at least she didn't have to worry about looking like an idiot. On the other hand, if things went south, there would be no witnesses to her most assuredly, outlandish story. She felt a strange sense of déjà vu as her eyes alit on each and every jet chocked within the building. She walked down the center aisle, her booted footsteps echoed loudly in the confines of the hangar. Much sooner than she wanted, Alexis found herself facing the haunted jet. It sat there innocently enough, engines silent, cockpit lights off, the soft glow from the hangar lights giving the jet an almost angelic air. She knew better.

Alexis set her jaw and positioned herself just to the right of the nose, allowing her to see the cockpit and, if necessary, the ability to jump to safety. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and then opened them again, slowly releasing her breath in a shaky effort to settle the butterflies within her stomach. Didn't they have people that got paid to do this type of thing?

"I want to talk to you," she began, directing her voice to the large metal bird.

Silence.

"Look, I know you're there…or at least, you were there. So, what's the deal?"

Silence.

I should have known. Come to talk with a ghost and I get the silent treatment. Big surprise. "Listen you, er…whatever or whoever you are, I don't know why you're doing this and frankly I don't give a damn, but I will not be intimidated by you! What exactly is your problem anyway? I mean, why haunt me? What have I ever done to you? Hell, I don't even know you! So, what's the deal? Why all the threats and intimidation shit, huh?"

Silence.

"Urrrrrgggghhh! You know! Forget it! I can't believe I'm out here talking to a jet anyway. If you even exist, you're just a ghost and ghosts can't seriously hurt people anyway, so go on! Hit me with your best shot!"

Alexis whirled on her heel and stormed out of the hangar, feeling strangely better about having vented some of her frustrations, even if she was yelling at a supposedly inanimate object. Maybe now that she had shown this demon she wasn't afraid, it would leave her and everyone else around her alone.

But little did Alexis realize she had just thrown gasoline on an already blazing inferno. The cockpit lights within her jet briefly illuminated and bathed the entire interior with a devilish, green glow. By this time, Alexis was already a good distance away from the hangar or otherwise she would have heard the manic, cackling, disembodied laughter echoing within the metal construct.


Several days passed in an uneventful haze and Alexis was beginning to feel that she had finally beaten her ethereal enemy. She had flown her jet at least twice more and she had maintained complete control of all her avionics.

Even Crowbar and his crew noticed the distinct lack of unexplained events. At first the crew was extremely edgy, believing that something was building to a head and a major incident would occur, but as the days ticked by and nothing mischievous happened, everyone was beginning to relax and settle back into an old groove. It was just as Starscream wanted it.

A1C Scotty McFarland was busying himself with checking the cockpit's interior circuitry. He absolutely loved his job, which was being an Avionics Technician. Ever since he was a boy he had a fascination with two things: airplanes and electricity. So, when he graduated high school it seemed a natural transition to put the two loves of his life together and join the Air Force as an Avionics Tech. It was a challenging occupation and one that required his utmost attention.

Scotty ducked his head and began to fiddle with the snake's nest of wiring that hung loosely under the jet's console. His slender fingers were carefully tracing a yellow wire, his intent to find its terminus and ensure that there was no fraying or chafing of the bright, protective covering. With his bright, redhead tucked under the console, McFarland failed to notice the hatch beginning to slide back over the cockpit. Soundlessly it slid into position until with a faint click, it locked into place.

Scotty banged his head on the bottom of the console as he tried to see what had caused that mysterious click. He immediately took notice of the closed hatch and snorted to himself. Those guys! They were always playing tricks on him! He tried the latch to unlock the cockpit, but it wouldn't budge.

"OK guys! You can let me out now! A little help would be appreciated!" he shouted loudly, his voice slightly muffled by the glass. Two other techs were walking by and noticed Scotty tapping on the glass. They laughed to each other and pointed at Scotty tapping from within the cockpit.

"You can let yourself out, McFarland! You're not that big of a dunce!" one called to him.

"I can't. The latch is jammed. Give me a hand would ya!?"

"You were the one dumb enough to lock yourself in; get yourself out!" the tech turned to his partner and was beginning to walk away.

Suddenly he heard a loud slapping sound coming from Scotty's jet; he looked over his shoulder to see the young redhead banging wildly on the glass. His eyes were bulged and if the tech didn't know any better he would have guessed that Scotty was faking asphyxiation and faking it rather well, he might add. He looked to his partner. "Do you think he's faking?"

The partner glanced back at the cockpit. He immediately took in the bulging eyes, the rapidly changing color of the face and the bulging veins on the boy's forehead. "If he is he's doing a damn good job!" The second tech rushed to the jet, his friend hot on his heels.

"How in the hell…!?" the first tech exclaimed. "What the devil is going on here!? Is that cockpit…depressurizing!?"

"It sure as hell is! Call Crow NOW! You there!" the second tech hollered to another specialist. "Help me! We've got a man trapped in here; he's suffocating!"

The third tech immediately dropped what he was doing and rushed to the jet. Already a steady crowd of onlookers and helpers were beginning to crowd around the plane. Their babbling voices filled with concern and confusion. Crowbar shoved his way through the crowd and all but leaped onto the wing, the two techs helping him to climb up. Together the three of them tried to shove the cockpit glass back into place, but it held fast. Inside Crowbar watched the panicked expression of Scotty McFarland as he feebly beat on the glass, his strength dwindling with the oxygen supply.

"This isn't working! I need everyman available to get an air ratchet NOW! We're taking the glass off!" Crowbar shouted as techs scattered everywhere to grab the required tools. "Hang with me Scotty! Damn it, man, stay with me!" Crow urged his young apprentice. The crew chief watched in horror as the boy's eyes finally lolled to the back of his head, his neck and body going limp as he slumped over the pilot's chair. "SCOTTY, damn it, son! Don't you die on my watch, you hear me! DON'T DIE ON ME NOW!" Crowbar slammed his fist against the impervious glass as if his anger would be enough to shatter it.

Abruptly, the hatch popped open with a furious hiss as air rushed in to fill the vacuum. Crowbar reached in as quickly as possible and dragged the unconscious boy from the cockpit. He along with the first two techs gently handed his limp body down off the jet and into several waiting arms down below. Within minutes, Scotty was strapped to a stretcher, wheeled into a military ambulance and driven off to the on-base hospital. Everyone within Hangar Seven Alfa stood dumbstruck as the magnitude of the event struck home. Only Crowbar seemed to gather his wits about him as he turned and barked at the two techs who had first realized the problem.

"You two! In my office now. I want to know exactly what happened, understood!?"

"Yes, sir!" the two techs chorused and quickly followed the crew chief out of the hangar. The shock was beginning to wear off and all the maintenance personnel were slowly beginning to resume their jobs, although many stood around and talked in hushed whisperings. This type of accident had never occurred before and it had many of them stirred up like a nest full of hornets. However, no one felt the magnitude of what had just happened more than Capt. Alexis. She had just entered the hangar to speak with Crowbar when she saw all the commotion centered around her jet. With wide, terror-stricken eyes she watched numbly as Scotty was dragged from the cockpit and handed down to the waiting paramedics. She felt her heart freeze within her chest and the blood in her veins turn into ice water.

So he had injured someone. This evil, malignant spirit hadn't left after all. Instead it had fulfilled its threat and now one man was seriously injured, maybe even killed and all because of her. It was all her fault. She shouldn't have tried to provoke it; she should have listened! And now because of her stupidity, sweet, innocent Scott McFarland was strapped to a stretcher fighting for his life—one of her crew, her teammate, her subordinate.

A sudden wave of nausea swept over her body and assaulted her senses. Wheeling wildly, Alexis made a break for the restroom and barely arrived in time to see her breakfast revisited. She hurled and gagged, the nausea threatening to overwhelm her weakened body. She gripped the ceramic bowl as if her life depended on it, her knuckles white and strained. Finally, she stopped vomiting, succumbing every few seconds to the dry heaves as her stomach tried to empty itself when there was nothing left to empty. With bleary, tear-stained eyes, the captain groped for the toilet tissue and wiped the spittle from her lips. She sat in the floor of the bathroom stall, trying to steady her nerves and her stomach. Over and over again, the horrific scene in the hangar replayed in her mind's eye. She couldn't stop seeing Scotty's body strapped to the stretcher—pale, lifeless. She may have been a combat pilot, but Alexis had never seen combat. Death was relatively new to her and knowing that she might ultimately be the cause of one sickened her. Shakily and using the stall walls for support, Alexis stood to her feet. Almost immediately her cell phone shrilled, causing the young woman to jump, startled.

With shaking hands, she reached into her pocket and withdrew the phone. It was a text message; number unidentified. With trembling fingers she flipped the phone open and read the text. Her breath hitched in her throat as her eyes scrolled across the digital words.

"I told you so. Hangar 7A tonight. 2300 hours.

DO NOT DISOBEY.

Numbly, she placed the phone back into her pocket and left the bathroom. There was no doubt now. She was a slave to the devil's bidding.


When Tomcat had found out what happened to McFarland, she had hit Alexis with a barrage of questions and concerns. It was almost too much for Alexis to take, but she endured knowing she would have to face a similar set of questions from the safety officer and her flight commander. Fearful to breathe another word about her haunting problem, Alexis pleaded ignorance for Tomcat's benefit as much as her own. Finally, her friend's impromptu interrogation ceased and Tomcat decided that rest and sleep would be more fulfilling than questions or answers. Alexis had never felt more relieved.

She donned a light-weight running jacket, sneakers and her keys before slipping out the door undetected; it was exactly 2250. She quickly made her way to the hangar, dread and fear threatening to force her to make another pit stop at the bathroom before continuing. She approached the gaping opening of the building, fear constricting her throat and making it difficult to breath.

Nary a breeze stirred; hardly a mouse skittered. It was as silent and quiet within the hangar as a graveyard. Alexis pulled her jacket close before entering the building even though there wasn't so much as breeze to give her goosebumbs. She walked with halting steps down the center aisle, her emerald eyes darting fervently from side to side. Even though nothing stirred within the hangar, she could feel an ominous presence within, pressing down and around her like a massive weight. She felt claustrophobic and just a little nauseated, but this was something she couldn't back out of, not now.

"He-hello?" she called. Her jet was chocked just where it was earlier today, just as if nothing had ever occurred. "I-I'm here! Now what do you want?"

Silence. Off in the distance Alexis heard a sign creak mourningly. Not two seconds later, a shrill scream echoed over the desert as a coyote found its late night meal. Once again Alexis felt the hairs on the back of neck prickle; she knew she was being watched but it was impossible to tell from which direction.

Suddenly she heard a very familiar, raspy chuckle resonate within the hangar. She whirled around trying to pinpoint its location, but the laugh seemed to be coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once. It grew in volume and in madness until Alexis thought her ears would begin to bleed. She clasped her hands to her head in a pitiful attempt to stifle the evil laughter.

Finally it died down until only a sniggering chortle could be heard. Alexis unclamped her ears and spoke to the screechy, disembodied voice, "I'm here now; what in the hell do you want from me?"

"How does it feel Alexis O'Conner? How does it feel to have the blood of another on your hands?" the voice asked, ignoring her question.

She remained silent; she didn't know what to say. Horrible guilt still lay on her chest like a lead weight.

The voice chuckled once more. "I thought so. So weak and pathetic, yet you call yourself a soldier. Disgusting."

"I did not come here to be mocked; you've made your point and now you have my attention. What do you want?" she asked once again, resignation and fear plainly evident in her voice, despite the strong words.

The voice did not respond and Alexis was beginning to grow impatient, but fear kept her rooted to the spot as she waited for the voice to speak once more. When it was not forthcoming, she posed another question. "Can I least know who you are…please? I-I just don't want anyone else getting hurt."

Still nothing happened and Alexis felt that this pointless conversation was over. She took one last, searching look around and began to back out of the hangar. She had taken no more than five steps when it felt as if she had passed through a curtain of ice cold air. She shivered involuntarily and paused trying to figure out where the blistering cold air had come from. Unable to determine its origin, Alexis turned and walked smack into a solid body directly behind her.

Blistering red eyes met her terrified green ones for the second time in that haunted hangar. She felt a scream beginning to build in her throat, but an icy cold hand as white as the driven snow clasped firmly across her mouth. She struggled violently, kicking and elbowing the mass behind her with little effect; her elbows and feet were passing straight through the entity. She tried to scream, but her sounds were muffled by the hand. Several moments later, she fainted.