63 Trip's Vacation Complications

Grace walked out of the nearby bushes and back over to where George was washing off in the runoff pool from a spring. Grace picked her hat up and started to maneuver her backpack into hoisting position, but didn't pull it up yet. It was considerably lighter now that their trip was nearing its end. George and she were taking a break at a spring marking the crossing of two trails. She looked up the trail they would be taking. It was not well used and was leaning toward overgrown. They had said their goodbyes to the group who were heading towards the pick-up point for tomorrow. The situation was a bit sticky and it wasn't good form to just walk away at the end like this. After all, she was one of the leaders of the group. But…Henry confirmed yesterday at the cabin when he dropped in that today she and George would need to head to Trip's house, and here they were already late. George's feet were better than when they started their trip but she wasn't as fast as she could be. George was sitting on a log. Her shoes and socks were off. She was looking at her feet, which were much better than last week. George was talking to someone or maybe not talking looking at someone. A ghost? Grace was used to that now…up to a point. Because of George she was aware that these forests and trails that for years she assumed were empty weren't empty at all. And now that she knew that fact it was a bit creepy because more likely than not at any given moment out here there was someone, some ghost, around watching. George looked up as she got close. "Are they here now?"

"Yeah. There's a guy right there. He doesn't speak English so he and I are not communicating well. He's the same one we met before."

She looked towards where George had nodded her head as she rubbed her foot. "No idea what he wants?"

"I know he wants us to go that way, towards Trip's house."

"How?"

"Well, he keeps pointing that way and motioning that we should get up and go."

George leaned closer to touch her arm and suddenly the man became visible to her too. He was the same one she had first seen several days ago. She had seen a few since, but this one she knew by his three yellow stripes on his cheek. And as George said the man was pointing up the trail they were intending to take. He just wanted them to take it now. He said something which was completely unintelligible. "George. I thought you reapers could speak any language."

"If, Grace, if we reap them we can talk to them. This guy…" She inspected him. "Looks to me like he died a very long time ago. My guess is that he's connected to Henry. Maybe his reap from…God knows how long ago…and he hasn't bothered to learn English."

"You mean he could learn English."

"Sure. Ghosts can learn. They think. They have free will. That's why they're still here."

"You mean they choose to stay behind and they can choose to learn a language."

"Exactly. Now why this gentleman decided not to cross over to the happy hunting grounds, well, you'd have to teach him English and then ask him."

"But this one is here. And he wants us to get moving."

"Wouldn't it be faster if you just ghosted your way there?"

"Well, yeah. I asked Henry about pulling some strings with upstairs, but he just smiled. This last two weeks not being able to ghost has been hell. I can't heal either. Sadistic- a sadistic lesson in why we should stay away…from your kind. And, to top it all off, I get murdered at the end. I think you have to be there too."

"Why doesn't that make me feel better? How do you know you will be murdered?"

"Grace. We are heading into a get-together between a team of assassins and their intended targets, that would be us. And reapers can't die of natural causes. I mean I suppose a resurrection could be from a disease or something, but do you think that's likely? Really?"

She had to agree that if George were going to die…she looked at her watch…just a matter of hours from now it was likely to be by some violent means. And she had to be there?

The man looked up at the sun and made some motions with his hands and arms…slowly…which Grace took to mean they needed to get moving…time was running out. He didn't use a watch but he did understand the sun's movements. He seemed a bit agitated. You'd think for a guy who'd been dead and hanging around for so long he would have more patience. George was nodding smiling toward the guy putting her socks back on and signaling she would do want he wanted.

"George. I thought ghosts were afraid of reapers."

"They generally are. But this one isn't getting all that close. And anyway he knows I won't do anything."

Once her shoes were on, they picked their packs up and were about to head up the indicated trail. The man looked agitated again. He came closer and motioned that they should get rid of the packs. She almost laughed. Their intention was to do just that, to hide the packs somewhere up the trail towards Trip's, but they couldn't explain that to the man. The ghost disappeared. They were interrupted by three people coming up from the valley trail where the derelict cabin lay, the one they came from, where they had met Henry yesterday. They had met the man twice on this trip alone and then at the Waffle Haus. Henry was staying close. John had told her that the last time he had been seen by reapers here in Seattle was by Rube in 1927. She wasn't sure if she should be honored or scared by that fact. These three hikers must have come through from farther on. The two men and a woman stopped at the spring. George was making another adjustment to her pack.

The woman spoke first, "Hi. Which way you heading?"

Grace pointed towards Trip's and said, "That way. You?"

The woman pointed the way their own group was heading. "We're on our way out." The two men smiled and put down their packs. The woman did the same. They all took out their canteens to fill up.

George said, "Nice meeting you but we gotta get going. Bye."

They said their goodbyes and she and Grace headed up the trail. Grace asked, "Should I have kept quiet?"

George said, "About where we're going? No. It's OK. It won't matter."

They continued another hundred yards. George made their ghost companion visible to her again. He was again motioning for them to take off the packs. Now he pointed towards a small depression in the mountain that crossed the trail. When the rain was heavy the depression probably had some runoff. It went back into the mountain out of sight and their companion was wanting them to follow him into it. George followed and Grace came after. They left their packs behind some bushes removing the day packs and keeping their canteens. No one would likely come up here so close to the spring rest spot they had just left and yet they likely wouldn't explore this far away. This crack in the mountain was like a thousand others. You couldn't camp back here - it wasn't level enough. Their companion seemed happier. He smiled. Nodded. Said something they couldn't understand. They got back out on the trail and now he was pantomiming running. George rolled her eyes. Grace smiled and they picked up the pace as a compromise.

A couple of hours later the two of them had a pretty good pace set. Their companion wasn't visible, but Grace didn't know whether he had left them or George wasn't bothering to make him visible. Grace walked fast brushing aside knee high ferns crowding the mountain side trail and stepping on or over fallen logs. She could go faster but George was lagging some. She was stronger than 10 days ago but still. The trees and brush blocked any view of what was uphill or down below. This was not a commonly used trail and another few years of disuse and it would become impassable and indistinguishable from the mountain sides above and below.

She stopped and George almost ran into her. "George, we're close. It's not far at all." She pulled out their map. They had crossed over into another valley than the one with the cabin. When the trail wrapped around the mountain so that it faced to the Northwest through occasional breaks in the trees she caught glimpses of this other valley stretching out and away. That meant they were very close and soon the road would be coming up from lower elevations on this mountain to meet the trailhead at Trip's vacation house.

George seemed to be smelling the air. She said, "Fuck."

"Still can't go into that in-between place?" She knew it was more than being able to ghost quickly to places. In that other state George could 'see' or detect souls from a great distance, much farther than she could now.

George shook her head and sighed. She reached for her canteen shook it and took a drink.

"Why would he or they do that?"

"He or they are not big on communication. This has been the two longest weeks of my undead afterlife."

George stared back down the trail. Grace couldn't see any movement. The trail was open but with the twists and turns through the massive tree trunks, bushes, and ferns she couldn't see more than 20 yards at the best and just to the next bend more usually. The trail they were on hugged the side of this mountain - and she had never come up this particular trail before. "George. What's wrong?"

"I think it's BZ following."

"BZ? How? Why would he do that?" George rolled her eyes. Grace said, "What?"

"Nothing." She pointed towards the trail ahead. "Let's keep going. Maybe he will turn back."

They resumed their forced march pace. Grace said over her shoulder, "George."

"Yeah."

"When…how you supposed to…like die?"

"Not long. Minutes now."

"Aren't you afraid?"

George stopped and so did she. Grace said, "I mean. You don't know how…or anything. Aren't you afraid?"

"It's OK, Grace. I'm OK with it. It means I get to stay here, which is what I want."

"Sorry. I…I'm not used to the idea." She coughed. "So again what do you want me to do?"

"Well, Trip and the others are waiting inside his house just up ahead. They're probably all watching the clock too. You will follow this trail until it comes out at the house. Go inside."

"And then what?"

"Well, I will leave you before you get to the house. I will drop down from this trail to a road heading to the house…and I will meet my end walking on that road."

"But what happens inside the house?"

"We don't know. My guess is that my end will trigger the attack. So probably you should all get into those refuge rooms Trip spent so much money on."

"I kinda feel like I want to know a little more."

"Get used to it. You only get to know what you need to know when you…"

She said, "Need to know it. Yeah, John has told me that a few times, several times, many times." George was again looking back the way they had come. Grace pretended to be looking back too, but she studied George's profile. She looked so young and so unreal. Grace had been sharing a tent with her for the last two weeks, and she trusted her, but what George was scared her a little. If she could go back, get a do-over, back at that cemetery when she hid from Rube and Daisy…she wondered would she stand up knowing what was to come? Probably. Free will wasn't all it was supposed to be. It sure wasn't random. Grace took her eyes from George to focus on the trail disappearing around the bend and into the forest shadows. She could now hear someone moving fast coming up. His head popped into view. It was BZ. They waited. He needed to be…deflected or sent back soon. "How does he fit in?"

"I don't think he does. Let's call him an expression of free will. His hormones are active, or if you prefer he likes you."

Now Grace looked skyward. George could be so cynical…most of the time. BZ came trotting up breath short.

"Grace…Millie…what…where…?"

George stepped in front and put a hand up. "Whoa there BZ. Where do you think you're going?"

Grace noticed he didn't have his backpack either. Just a light day pack like them.

"I don't know. I came back and met three hikers. They said you took this trail. I was following you guys. And I left my pack with yours. You left tracks." He smiled. "I covered them up though."

George looked short stature wise next to him, but she sounded like an interrogator very much in control. "Thank you for that. But why would you come back?"

"Aah. You two just took off from our group. We're supposed to go back to the trailhead…together."

"We had a change of plans."

"Aah. The pick-up will be at the trailhead on the other side of this mountain or that mountain…wherever…and you two will miss it. You can't get back."

"So?"

He pulled his hat off and wiped sweat from his brow…probably to stall long enough so he could come up with a reasonable sounding answer. "So. Why are you two here and not with the others?" A good offense is often a good defense.

"We have a secret meeting with some friends."

"Why did you leave your packs near the last camp?"

"It's a day hike."

"We're not getting back to those packs before dark."

Grace could see this wasn't getting them anywhere. Obviously BZ was going to miss the pick up. There was no way he could get back over the mountain and several miles to the rendezvous point even if they could talk him into turning back. He was going to have to come with her. "Ge..Millie. He's got to come with me. However this is supposed to roll out, well, we'll just have to include him."

George got a sour look to her face, but Grace could see she had already come to the same conclusion. She really didn't like it. George shrugged and turned to walk on. "OK. I just hope he doesn't die."

"Die? Why would I die?"

"It's too late, BZ, what will be will be. Let's go."

"Grace. What is Millie talking about?"

"Later, BZ, later. Just do what I tell you and you will be OK." She thought of something. "And BZ."

"Yeah?"

"Be quiet. No questions and be quiet…or you really will die."

He shrugged. It was obvious he was happy now that he had caught up. The three turned and resumed their march through the growth.

Just minutes later George stopped. She pointed down to their left to a dirt road that was now visible through the tree branches below them. She checked her watch. George motioned and they brought themselves into a huddle. She whispered, "OK. Grace. You two be quiet and go ahead. This trail will come out close to the house." She looked around. Grace did too and couldn't see anything through the trees that looked lethal enough to end George's life. She couldn't see anything at all. George seemed to be testing the air again. She took a deep breath and smiled. "Maybe, just maybe I'll come back out here someday and do this again. Minus the blisters and forced marches with the local Seattle Gestapo." She closed her eyes and took another breath. Grace watched her. Whatever she said however brave a front she put on Grace was sure she was steadying her nerves for what was to come, just minutes away. "I think there are two men up on the mountain over that way…on the other side of the road. They would have a clear view of the road from there." She turned back to Grace and BZ. "I'll wait here a bit longer. You two go up this trail. Wait until two minutes after the go time or until you hear something and then run for the house."

"Got it."

"Go now. Move fast. Time is running out."

Grace grabbed BZ by the arm and pulled him. "Let's go." Grace didn't fast walk now she trotted. She had too much adrenaline. BZ seemed to pick up on her mood and he kept quiet and kept up with her fast trot. She jumped over a log.

Just a minute up the trail he said, "Grace."

She turned her head enough so he could see her put her finger to her lips, and she kept on running. They slowed a bit. The trail was topping out on a broad shelf on the mountain side. She could see light through the trees up ahead and to their left the road was almost level. She put her hand up and slowed to a walk. The undergrowth was thinning on both sides and she again put her finger to her lips until she got his attention. He nodded. They moved forward stepping off the trail and behind a too skimpy bush. She checked her watch. It was so close. She closed her eyes and said a prayer for George, that it wouldn't be too horrible or whatever. She studied the house or now that she got a look it really was a mansion. Of course it was. Trip built it. Two wings spread out from the center structure. Two levels. Small lawn in front with a row of parking spaces mostly empty. His cars must be in a garage out of sight somewhere. There was no one visible anywhere. That road ended here at the house. They must be very close to the wilderness area boundary - just outside. She pulled out her phone and turned it on. Maybe she could call into Trip's system. It took forever for the phone to power up. The batteries were near dead but she had left enough for when they got here. And there was no signal. That was odd. Trip would not be without a signal even here. She knew on the other side of this house there was an open area allowing a spectacular view of a broad valley which accessed via signal towers the civilization, represented by a few buildings and houses, visible on the distant other side. She looked back. BZ was watching her. The quietest he had been the whole trip. Please. Please. God or Death or whatever plotting this shit please. She knew at least as of yesterday that she did not have a postit and there were none for anyone else but George. That was weird. Henry talked like another attempt was going down and given what happened the last round it was hard to believe that no one would die. And he said something about seeing them again soon. That upset her but he said there would be no postit for her, just George. She leaned out from their cover to look to the left and then the right. Nothing and no one. And it was so quiet. The wind moved the branches overhead. There was a bird broadcasting a boring monotone chirpy little song not far away. The sun was out and road was dry. A loud crack made her jump. That was something. Louder than any rifle she had heard before. "BZ, let's go."

"Jesus. That was a 50 caliber cannon, Grace. A sniper? Out here?"

She grabbed his elbow and jumped for the open space in between them and that front door. He was motivated and followed close edging to a little in front by the time they got to the front door. She tried it. It was locked. She rang the door bell hitting it five times make it stutter madly. No response.

BZ was facing away down the road. "Holy Motherfucking Christ."

She followed his line of sight. From here there was a clear view of the dirt road for a couple hundred yards at least. George was well away down there lying on the road. Probably shot. She was moving or trying to. BZ opened his day pack and pulled out a small binocular set. "Holy. Grace. Grace. Those two guys shot Millie."

He handed the glasses over. She took a moment to adjust, but when she did she saw George down. The two men were walking slowly toward her out in the open. One pulled out a knife. She focused on George. She..she must have been hit in the legs. And she was a bloody mess and in a lot of pain. She put the glasses down and turned her attention to the door. This shit was definitely going down and it was here and now. She pounded on the door. "BZ, find a rock. We have got to get inside." She could feel the old saying that God, or maybe in this case, Death, helped those who helped themselves. Henry said she didn't have a postit, but she remembered John warning her that the closer they got to the reapers and their activities, the more they knew, the more grey their own fate. In moments those two would finish George off and they could turn their attention and then that cannon this way.

BZ was ahead of her. He had picked up a large rock from a decorative ring around a small tree. She pointed towards a large window to the left of the door. And the door opened. Jane was standing there with her pistol out. Jane said, "Get in, quick." Grace followed by BZ jumped inside. Jane slammed the door shut and locked it. "Who's he?"

"George calls him free will. His name is BZ."

Jane smiled. "Well, EZ Free Will, come along."

BZ said, "Actually, it's B as in bird, with a Z."

Grace noticed Tom standing off to the side half hidden behind a big grandfather clock with his gun up and ready. BZ noticed him too and jumped.

Grace asked, "Where is everyone?"

"Trip decided that George's ETD was the likely starting pistol for the action to begin. Everyone is down in the refuge rooms. Tom and I were waiting up here for you."

"Thanks. Thanks a lot."

"George?"

"Two men down the road shot her, I think shot her in the legs. They're…"

Tom said, "That would likely be Baxter. He'll work her over before he reports to Bob. Gives us a few more minutes."

Grace was in a nightmare unfolding. "Work her over? What do you mean work her over?"

Jane said, "It can't be helped. As she says…by the way what's his situation?"

Grace reached for focus. "He's…clueless."

BZ took that as his cue. "What the fuck is going on? Aren't we going to help Millie?"

Jane looked at her watch. "She's not dead yet. Baxter always was an asshole. But if he takes his time with her it will give us a few more minutes."

The group reached a door to a back room and walked through. Last in Tom closed and locked it. Jane went over to a closet and pulled/pushed the door open. She entered and pulled the door open on a fuse box on the wall. Grace looked away. There was some cross talk through an intercom. She could just hear a man's voice, likely Trip, through the speaker. The wall gave way to one side. Jane led the way down steep stairs. Tom closed up behind them. The staircase was dimly lit, but it didn't matter. She held tightly onto a handrail as she climbed down. There was no choice but down. She guessed that they were deep into the mountain maybe two or three stories down. Jane stopped at a metal door where there was standing room for just her, waited, and it opened. She waved them all through. That door looked to be at least a foot thick, maybe more, of metal that would be between them and the outside including that Baxter who was working George over right now. Grace knew about the two refuge rooms and knew she was to end up here, but hadn't seen any pictures and it didn't occur to her to ask. She heard the door shut with a finality has it settled into its track and sealed like a bank vault. They were safe.

There were plenty of lights down here. Trip was standing up front smiling. "Hi Grace. Glad to see you made it. And who is this?" Others were coming out from a hallway and a large room right off this welcome area.

"He followed George and me up here. His name is BZ."

"Hi BZ."

"Uh, hi. What about Millie?"

Trip checked his watch. "She should be passing on, but not over very soon now."

Reggie walked in from a back room followed by John. "Grace." They hugged. She hugged John. He looked much stronger than when she had left him two weeks before.

Grace said to them, "George got shot in the legs, I think, by some sniper team just down the road."

Reggie said, "Oh oh. She will be pissed."

BZ broke in, "Pissed? She's going to be dead. Maybe she's dead already. There's just two of them and…" He looked around. "You all have guns."

Charlotte put a hand on his arm. "BZ. It'll be OK. You're safe here. And George will be OK."

"Who's George?"

Grace shrugged. "Millie has two names."

"Whatever her name she's been shot, by two crazy hunters."

John stepped in. "Hi BZ, I'm John. Let me get you something to drink." John walked him into that back room.

.

.

George stopped on the green side of the boundary marking the transition between the enclosed and relative safety of the dim forest and the open danger out in the bright sunlight on the dusty brown of the dirt road. She took a deep breath. It wasn't so bad out here in this wilderness. The first week was hard, but despite her complaining she actually was appreciating this nature thing. Some bird was singing a nice chirpy little song happy to be alive and telling everyone who could hear all about it. Fuck it. Let's get this shit over with. She stepped out from the trees onto the road and into certain death. She had a pretty good idea it would be by gun. Bob and his men were here and they would be watching this road. And with Marsha helping them…well. They made sure she didn't know the exact time. And more importantly…

George was knocked to the road her legs taken out. She didn't hear the shot. The shock itself was painless but within a moment the wave of pain caught up and hit like a sledgehammer. Oh my God this hurts. She would never get used to this much pain. She looked down. Below her knees part of one leg was gone and most of the other. Blood everywhere. She had to get some imbecile who couldn't shoot straight. Please shoot me again and let's get this over with. She would bleed out. But…damn. God damn this fucking hurt. It seemed like forever but she could see two men walking toward her. One carrying the biggest rifle she had ever seen. The big guy was smiling. The other one carrying the rifle was looking down the road and then up. The big mother fucker pulled a huge huge knife out from somewhere. Shit. He wasn't going to shoot her again. Now. Now. Please shoot me in the head. There would be no healing here. She would feel and hurt just as any of the living, and die. Unlike them she would resurrect but the dying part with all the pain part came first.

The guy with the rifle said, "Uhh, Baxter. Now?"

"No, not yet."

"Bob said…"

"I know what Bob said. It won't hurt to take a look at this most dangerous little girl." Baxter did in fact study her. Finally, he said, "Dave is full of it. You're just a young girl. You in a lot of pain, little girl?"

"Hi Baxter. You look like a pervert who gets off on shooting little girls."

"Nope. Not at all. I'll show you what gets me off."

Baxter grabbed her long hair and dragged her a foot closer and cut her right ear off. Now that hurt. Ranking pain though the legs definitely came at the top, but this ear thing was right behind the legs. He let go of her and knelt closer. "I want you to appreciate the artistry in my shot. A lesser man would have hit you in the chest and with a caliber rifle like this…" He waved a hand towards the rifle held by his minion. "You would have died instantly. But you see this shot." He pointed to her legs first one and then the other. "You see this shot put you down permanently. You will bleed out, but you're very much awake." He smiled broadly and seemed to be considering what he might cut off next.

Some radio crackled. "Status report. Baxter. We heard you shoot."

The rifle guy said, "Affirmative. Primary target is down."

"And dead?"

Baxter put a hand up. The rifle man handed him the radio. Baxter said, "No. Totally incapacitated."

"I'll tell Bob she's been neutralized."

"You do that."

"Baxter, shouldn't we take part?"

"We will. We will. We're optional at the house. We're supposed to take our time here. Works for me." He turned to her and said, "Well little girl. Look's like you and me we got us some quality time we can share."

.

.

Grace noticed Marsha sitting watching them from a corner. Grace waved hi and smiled but Marsha didn't respond.

Grace looked around at Trip's answer to home invasions. This first room was very large. The walls were spartan, free of decoration, a flat grey. Across was a hallway leading to she knew the bunk rooms, a bathroom, and storage pantry for food, and an observation and communication room from which they could see what was going on topside in and around the house. Also down that way was a room providing power for the lights and air. There were both battery storage and a diesel engine system. To the left of the hallway was a kitchenette with a microwave and a small table for four to eat.

This room had at one end a large TV screen on a low stand. Arrayed in front and to the sides were easy chairs and a couch. To her left there was a large general purpose table with eight chairs. There was a Monopoly game on the table and several more chairs along the walls in between cabinets.

Reggie waited for her to finish taking it all in and said, "Trust me. This is much better than we had the last time. I was hiding in a closet. She pulled Grace to the side and with Charlotte they walked down the hallway with several closed doors and through an open door into a dimly lit room with several monitors lining the walls all showing views of the house inside and surroundings outside. Tom and Jane followed after. Trip came after them and took a seat at a console. Grace could see that each monitor showed some particular key location outside and a few the cameras were sweeping slowly to take in more area.

A voice jumped from a speaker on the wall near the console, "Mr. Hesburgh, Mr. Hesburgh. Yoo hoo. Can we leave yet?"

He flipped a switch and spoke into a mike. "No, Maria. We are under attack. This is for real. You and the others stay right where you are and do not open up for anyone but the police. No matter what you hear. And don't expect the police for several hours."

"Yes sir."

Trip looked around at the faces centered on him. "Our land lines have been cut."

Jane said, "And the wireless is jammed?"

Trip nodded.

Grace looked up to see John standing next to her. Marsha entered. Trip noticed too. Trip and John exchanged a glance. Trip said, "Marsha. I'm not clear on this resurrection thing. How long until George will be up and around?"

Marsha feigned, it seemed to Grace, a puzzled look. "Why I don't know. I've never seen it myself." Marsha pulled her hand through her hair. She looked awfully composed even for one of the undead. Marsha smiled at Trip. "I think a resurrection would take three days before they can rise from the grave. Right?"

John was eyeing Marsha. He was hiding his suspicions. She could read her brother and his faced showed he had a new puzzle piece he was testing for best fit. When Trip looked his way John said, "I'm not sure either, Trip. I guess today we will find out." Grace absolutely knew from John that based on the airplane crash he knew exactly how long a resurrection took but she kept it to herself. And she was sure Trip must know too. There was a boom upstairs followed by another and a third. A few monitors went blank. Explosions probably. They must be inside the house.

Tom said, "OK. Show's on." He had a big smile.

BZ stood at the door.

Trip stood up. "We're safe down here. Why don't we move back out where we've got more room. This closet wasn't built for this many." He motioned towards the door. Jane led the way out pointing the way back for BZ to lead. They filed out and back to the main waiting area where there was a table, a couch, lots of chairs and a TV screen. She didn't think she could sit through anything. Not with several professional killers working hard to find and kill them just upstairs. They must be going through the house now.

The only person more calm than Marsha seemed to be Tom. He moved over to the cabinet under the big screen and opened the door. "Trip. Did this get stocked?"

Trip smiled. "Actually Tom. I've got several of your favorites in there."

Jane said, "Trip. No. You didn't."

Grace wasn't sure what this was about. Trip smiled broadly and said, "Yes. Yes I did."

Jane said, "No. Please no." Jane was clearly more perturbed by the choice of dvd's down here than she was by the fact several of her former colleagues were upstairs eager to kill her, all of them.

Tom stood up holding a dvd case. "Jane. Look. We got the complete Gilligan's Island. And hell. Jane. Did you know there was a movie?"

Jane rolled her eyes.

Tom said, "Hey. Do you think we'll have time to see the whole series?"

Jane headed toward the hallway. "Not before I shoot myself."

Tom said, "Jane. Don't do that. Hey, if you want we can watch that other one…Touched by an Angel. How about that? That's here too."

Jane was smiling. Trip, John, Reggie, and Charlotte were laughing now. It's good when people can laugh in the face of death, but…. Marsha had taken a seat along the wall and was staring at them all, shaking her head. BZ was totally out of the loop. He was watching her probably calm only because she was. He caught her glance his way. He leaned closer and whispered, "Grace. Are these people crazy?"

Grace felt sorry for him. He reminded her of John pursuing the solution to some puzzle not realizing where his choices were taking him. They all were like that, like a rat in a maze. Sometimes the rat got to the end and sometimes he ended up stuck at a dead end, and sometimes…in a deep hole in the ground.

John called out. "She's here."

Everyone stopped laughing. Tom pulled his gun. Jane ordered, "Tom, put that away. You know you can't shoot a ghost."

Grace couldn't see her. John said, "OK, she's gone now."

Trip stepped closer to John. "What did she do?"

John's brow furrowed. "Odd. She just popped in looked around, saw you, and popped out."

Marsha stood up and walked over to Tom. She touched his gun and it disappeared. Jane pulled hers as did John and pointed it at Marsha. Marsha faded to nothing. John's gun and then Jane's followed Tom's weapon. They all looked at each other.

It was Charlotte who spoke first, "Oh shit. Oh please don't tell me she just did that. Please tell me I'm wrong but things seem to have taken a turn for the very bad." She sat down in a chair along the wall and motioned for Trip to join her. She put her hands to her face and then down. There was no where, no where at all they could run. The team was upstairs. There were no other exits. Grace glanced John's way. He met her eyes, shrugged, and walked over to take a seat along the wall also. Grace sat down next to John. She motioned for BZ to do the same. BZ's mouth was open. At least he was keeping quiet. Reggie stood near the middle of the room. She checked her watch and looked over at John. John nodded and smiled. Reggie pulled a chair over next to John and took his hand.

Jane turned to Tom and said, "Well, Tom. Episode one, season one. Shall we?"

The apparent threat out of sight Tom nodded. He turned the TV monitor on and started fiddling with the controls. He looked back. "Can everyone see OK?"

Jane took a seat and they watched Tom focus all of his attention on getting things set up. Maybe not all the wire connections had been tested. Tom was so busy he didn't notice when a man appeared in the middle of the room holding a gun in his right hand. Now that was not a good development. Marsha appeared next to him holding his left arm. She let him go.

Tom sensed something and turned around. "Dave! How ya doing man?"

Dave said, "Hi Tom. OK. I suppose."

BZ was about to ask her something and she put her finger to her mouth and he held it. Grace had a bad feeling. Dave was not one of the good guys as Tommy would say. She remembered him as one of Jane's unreformed former colleagues. And he was the one who tortured Trip and shot George in the head. John said it was a failed attempt to induce a resurrection. She was fuzzy on the details. Where was George? Roxy and reaper influenced elements in the Seattle police had pinned several murders on him alone - all deserved - and then he had managed to get released from prison. Marsha must have ghosted him down here. That was not good. Marsha was a reaper working for Rube and assigned to protect Trip from ghost spies. And, no, this could not be good.

Marsha said, "Stop the happy talk." Marsha looked away towards air. No doubt it was Trip's dear sister come back to finish them off. "OK." Reggie must be gratified that her idea about how to get rid of Meigan last year really might work. Dave was their team leader and didn't seem the worse for his brief stay in prison, and he had a gun, here, with them.

Meigan appeared holding hands with Marsha. Meigan looked around maybe checking for sure that everyone could see her. She smiled at Trip and then Charlotte, and narrowed her eyes in a glower just for Reggie. She turned back to Trip. "Well, brother, it seems I'm going to win. You are going to be joining me…on this side. All of you." She turned to Dave. "Shoot him in the gut. Make sure it's a slow death. No. No. Shoot him in the knees then the gut." She pulled Marsha closer to Reggie. "And you, bitch. Make sure this one takes a long painful while to get to this side."

Trip stood up. "Meigan!"

"Shut up. You, just shut up." She moved closer to her brother pulling Marsha with her. "I know about your flirting with that reaper whore. If you had paid attention. Daddy wouldn't have died. You took him from me."

"OK. You're mad at me. Fine. Kill me, then, but these others had nothing, nothing to do with Dad's dying that day. You know that."

"You took him from me. So I am going to take those you care about…away from you." She looked back at Dave. "Kill Charlotte first." She waved a hand at Charlotte as she looked back at Dave.

Dave didn't move. Trip tried again. "Why did you kill Ashley, and her husband? They had nothing at all to do with Dad's dying that day."

"Ashley was a bitch. Always first. Always telling everybody what to do. A know-it-all."

"So you had her killed? And our nephew? What's he guilty of?"

"I've decided not to kill him, not yet. I will get control of him with the help of my friend, Marsha, here. She was raised well. We will raise him properly. You've left him in the care of a drug dealer and a some whore." She looked at Marsha. "A Canadian Irish whore at that."

"Ahh, his grandfather may…"

"If that old fool gets in the way then he will die too." She looked back at Marsha and then Dave. "Go ahead, Dave. Start with my dear brother's gold-digger wife." She let go of Marsha and disappeared.

Marsha stood with her arms folded. Long seconds ticked by and Dave just stood there. "Well. Dave." Marsha looked off to the thin air. "How would I know?" John was smiling as the implications of Dave's refusal sunk in. Dave smiled at the same spot Marsha was so focused on. He dropped the clip out of the handle. It hit the floor and clattered until it rested at his feet. He started dismantling the gun. He got it into two pieces and suddenly he went flying across the room sliding into the wall. The gun skidded to rest next to him in two pieces. Marsha did not move, but stood looking after Dave with her mouth open.

Dave sat up, shook his head, and looked up. "No." Then he said, "I don't care. I won't do it."

John got up and moved toward Dave, but Marsha intercepted him. She grabbed him and threw him down the hallway. Tom went for a tackle, but Marsha seized hold of him and threw him into the ceiling. He fell to the floor hard. Jane moved over and helped him up. She whispered something and they both sat down.

Dave's head started jerking back into the wall hard again, and then again. Meigan was beating him.

John had returned from his trip down the hallway. He shouted, "Meigan. Stop it."

She did. There was a pause. John backed two steps and was knocked hard and fell to the floor. Reggie went to his side. Meigan could only hurt Dave and John. They were counting on Dave to pull the trigger. Meigan couldn't and Marsha, as a reaper, probably knew better than to directly try it.

There was a brief pause and then Meigan struck Dave again. He spit out a tooth and blood. "Fuck you, bitch. Go ahead kill me. I don't give a flying fuck. I won't do it."

.

.

George had lost an eye, both ears, and now Baxter was standing back, and she swore he looked like an artist considering what would be next. She was supposed to have died minutes ago. This Baxter was deliberately keeping her alive and away from the refuge room. She needed to do something. She tried to crawl away. The other one grabbed at her. She pushed him hard. Baxter kicked her and she fell back. The other one jumped on her and George got what she wanted. He was holding her down for Baxter's next slice. Baxter stood back waiting smiling. Her hand got to his holstered gun and worked it out. She took hold of his soul and threw him back much harder than a girl should be able. They both looked surprised for a moment, and their eyes went wide when she raised the gun. She couldn't kill them but she could shoot them where it would hurt a lot and the knees would be her second choice. Baxter pulled his side arm first and shot her in the head.

.

.

Meigan obliged Dave and resumed beating him. Marsha hurried over to pick up the gun pieces and tried to fit them together. It was obvious she hadn't a clue how they fit - good upbringing but lacking somewhat in the practical side of things. Plus in 1927 she most likely was shown how to use a revolver if anything at all. Meigan and Marsha were so busy that they totally missed a new fact taking shape in the room. George emerged from the ceiling and eased to the floor in the middle of the room just a few feet behind the two. She had a glower on her face. George glanced from side to side. A humorless smile started small but grew quickly as she took in the situation. Meigan appeared with her back to George.

BZ said, "Millie? Millie's dead. Grace. Is that Millie? She's wearing Millie's clothes. She came through the ceiling. How?"

Grace said, "Ssh. Yes, you understand. She's dead."

"No. I don't…"

She put her hand on his arm and pointed towards George. He shushed. The whole room was watching. Grace was terrified. George had left her body out on the dirt road. Baxter had finished 'working her over' as Tom said and this apparition was her, but it was something much more. It looked like George. But radiated a cold stillness that brought to her mind a graveyard. Grace felt a little of what John was trying to warn about that they were involved with something that was not human, something with goals and purposes that might use them but if they thought it was some kindly power looking benevolently down on them that would be their projecting something onto it that it did not possess. She could feel it here. She was terrified even though she was sure they would live, maybe because it wanted them to live. Poor BZ. He was caught too and didn't know it yet.

Meigan was so angry and enjoying herself at Dave's expense. Grace understood their plan, but if Meigan pummeled him into unconsciousness who would pull the trigger? She had a temper and control problems. Meigan perhaps noticed something wasn't right, or maybe she felt George nearby, and stopped whaling on Dave to look over her left shoulder. At catching sight of George she screamed a long drawn out crazy wail. Marsha stopped trying to get the two pieces to fit back together and raised her head eyes locking onto the George apparition.

George said, "Hello, Meigan. I am so glad we could get together again."

Meigan stood erect and faced George. She strained against an unseen force. Marsha also looked like she was trying to move but seemed stuck. Grace guessed she wanted to ghost herself and George was preventing her.

"Dave. Good to see you again, too."

Dave's face was a bloody mess. He wiped his hand across his mouth which mostly just smeared the blood across his face. He spit blood as he said, "Ms. Lass. You're running a little late. I'm running out of teeth."

"Eehh, you're still alive."

George shifted closer to Meigan. Grace had a bad feeling. She caught John's eyes for a moment. He shook his head just a bit. He had told her about what he had seen. She took BZ by the arm. "Don't be afraid, BZ. It's not here for you."

BZ said, "Yeah. OK. I'm OK, Grace."

Grace held onto BZ's arm and took his hand. George was motionless watching Meigan. Meigan was afraid. She wanted to flee, but whatever had been suppressing George these last two weeks had let her go. George leaned closer and Grace was sure she was going to say something to Meigan. Instead, she paused, looked over toward Trip, maybe to ask if he wanted any last words with his sister. Trip met George's eyes and shook his head. George stepped back one then two steps and a third putting some distance from Meigan. Suddenly from around George's feet the dark cloud she had seen back in San Francisco exploded into this dimension. It grew fast swallowing George in a swirl that was black created by the absence of light rising above her pushing against the ceiling, and it had those two red eyes and those eyes were focused on Meigan. When she looked up into them it struck engulfing her and the both disappeared.

George turned slowly to face Marsha. She moved closer. Grace's concentration was broken when she saw that George's feet really didn't work like someone alive. She wasn't walking so much as moving like a ghost, hovering approximately where she would have stood. She also wasn't breathing. She had the stillness of a tomb, no warmth. And she focused on Marsha.

Marsha picked up on her being next on the menu. She said, "Ah, let me explain." Marsha took a few steps back. "No. Georgia. No. I don't think…"

George shook her head and hovered moving slowly closer staring intently on Marsha. Her brow furrowed. Her voice was calm and even. "There's nothing to explain, Marsha."

"Oh, but there is, dear, because this is not what it looks like. No, not at all." She looked over to Trip. "Trip?"

Trip shrugged. "Seems pretty clear to me."

George didn't break her lock on Marsha. "Dave what were you supposed to do after dear Marsha ghosted you down here?"

Dave spit out some blood and said, "I was to shoot all of you. No one left alive. With special attention on a select few."

George glowered at Marsha who seemed to shrink. "Marsha. You took the kindness extended to you by the Hesburghs and repaid it with murderous betrayal. And you betrayed your family. We were your family."

"Georgia. No one got hurt."

"Not for a lack of trying." George looked down at the two pieces of Dave's gun she still held. So did everyone else. Marsha even looked down and dropped them like they were hot.

"Georgia. You know I haven't been well." She put a hand to her forehead.

Grace was surprised when George shifted a bit to look around the room. It was a big room and there were some 10 people occupying the space. George's eyes settled on the one open wall, where no one was standing and which happened to be the farthest from Marsha. In a flash, faster than the eye could follow, Marsha was crushed against the wall and falling to the floor. She screamed. Several people gasped. George hadn't moved. The wall had solid rock behind it and while the wall surface was damaged Marsha got the worst of it. Her body was broken, ribs, maybe her back. She probably had a bad concussion. Marsha flailed her limbs, but couldn't rise. She was bleeding from her head, nose, from her arms.

Tom stepped in between George and Marsha's prone body. He stopped and checked out Marsha. He put both hands up towards George, and said, "George. George. Please. Be careful. We only got the one TV down here. And we could be stuck here a long time."

Trip spoke up, "He's right George. I didn't think to put but the one TV down here. And I've never seen this Gilligan's resort show Tom talks about."

Marsha was in great pain and now nearly unconscious. She shook her head and ghosted herself and then she seemed to remain on the other side. Grace could see something change in Marsha's appearance, a subtle difference. And she realized that Marsha couldn't come back. George was allowing them all to see Marsha in that in-between place. Marsha was physically fixed. She was no longer broken and she could get up but her brow furrowed.

George said, "Marsha. Go away."

Marsha looked down at herself and then up at George. She asked, "What did you do? What does this mean?"

"It means you are no longer one of us, one of our family. You are now and for ever more a ghost that may never cross over. You are free to go your way, to walk the Earth, wherever you wish, forever. Your son's ghost is somewhere loose in New York. If I find you anywhere near this half of the continent, I will end you." George turned away from her. She looked each person over in turn arrayed around the room and her mood lightened as a small smile started. Like her everyone was focused on George. "Everyone seems OK?" George behaved as if Marsha did not exist.

Grace watched Marsha go up through the ceiling. Three guns reappeared on the floor.

Dave tried to get to his feet, but failed. George looked over towards Jane and Tom. They both moved to help Dave. They stood on either side and helped him up to standing and moved him to a chair. George glanced over towards Trip and Charlotte.

Trip asked, "Another contract?"

George nodded. Jane slapped Dave on the back. "Welcome to the team, Dave. Bit of rough initiation though."

Tom asked, "Hey you guys want to watch something now?"

Jane said. "Tom, first let's get his bleeding stopped. Could you get a first aid box?"

Grace glanced around. She couldn't hear anything up above. Beyond those first explosions it was quiet. She stood and asked, "So. That's it?"

George didn't move. She was a ghost and would be for three days, like Mason and Daisy went through. Since she didn't have itches to scratch, didn't feel hunger, or cold, or heat, she wouldn't be fidgeting or looking to lie down somewhere to rest. For three days. It meant that even though she seemed solid and she looked like she did before, when she was alive, or undead, there was a subtle shift. There was no unnecessary movement, or to the point, no movement when at rest.

John said, "That was enough for me."

Grace asked, "Is this the same Dave that killed those people last year? Everything is forgiven? And what the fuck happened to Marsha? She tried to kill us all?"

Charlotte spoke up. "That she did. I had hoped she wouldn't do it, wouldn't betray us, but she's not right in the head. Rube noticed it too. Instead of guarding us from ghosts spying…"

Trip picked up. "She was negotiating with my dear sister, who was visiting without saying hello."

Grace was incredulous. "But why? And she's a reaper? How could she think she would get away with it?"

Trip said, "When I saw her reaction when John told her about her son back at the Waffle Haus…well…Rube saw it too. I wasn't sure she would take it this far though. Have you heard what she did back in 1927…to earn her trip into the Dark?"

Grace said, "Yes. Yes, I did, when we went to San Francisco with George for the Conrad reaper. But…why?"

John spoke up, "I think it was seeing Daisy have so much good fortune drop down from Heaven while all her hopes fizzled away to nothing. Then she found out her son died without leaving any known children."

Trip said, "Yeah, I agree. She could not abide someone so undeserving as Daisy having grandchildren and then on top of that getting Tommy. From what I hear Tommy staying with reapers is extremely rare."

Grace said, "I saw some of that, but what would make her think that she, a grim reaper, could get away with helping to kill…all of us?"

Reggie said, "Well, Grace, she saw George ghost John and get away with it. And then Tommy get the same treatment and end up adopted by two reapers, and then look how many people have been brought into the circle? And she knew something about Conrad and his goings on."

Dave still spitting blood said, "Also. Also Meigan believed that she and reapers had a lot of room to interfere with the Fate of people, like her brother here and the rest of you, that knew about the supernatural side. And as I can attest she can be quite convincing."

Charlotte said, "And Grace, remember, Marsha grew up among the elite rich of New York in the early 1900's, she had a husband, a baby son, and then it was all taken away. Penny knew her in 1927 as did Rube, and they both felt that whatever mental issues arose back then, they weren't cured by her stay in…wherever."

Trip said, "And then let's not forget Benny. Let's give him some credit. He snuck in behind my dear sister's back to talk to Dave."

Dave asked, "Where is Benny? I want to thank him."

"He's back with Tommy in Seattle."

Reggie turned to look BZ over. She asked Grace, "So when did you and BZ get so tight?"

Grace said, "When we left the main group he took it upon himself to follow us up here." BZ did not look well. "I think this has all been too much for him." She took his hand. "You OK?"

BZ shook his head.

Trip looked her way. "You'll explain things to him…before he has a chance to kill himself?"

Grace said, "Yeah. I'll take care of him."

Tom asked, "OK then. It looks like we're going to be down here awhile. I think there's popcorn in the kitchen. So who wants to watch…"

John asked, "Uh, does anyone else smell something?"

Charlotte sniffed the air once. Then again deeper. "No."

George disappeared.

Reggie took a deep sample of the new air coming down. "Ah. This is not good. Trip. How does the ventilation work?"

Trip's brow furrowed up. He spread the fingers of his right hand across his chin and then down into a point as he gave that question some thought. "Well. Each refuge room is ventilated separately. There's air intake and exhaust to the outside that are entirely separate…" He looked worried. "And well away from the site…and hidden…"

John looked his way. "Is it possible that dear Marsha…when you first brought her up here…had access to the plans? Could she have handed them over to…?"

"Yes." Dave spoke up. He looked a little wobbly and now had a cotton pad he used to swab his mouth. "She did exactly that. I saw the plans, but Bob did not discuss them with Meigan and me."

John frowned. "And?"

Dave continued, "Bob is meticulous and methodical in his planning. I didn't think of it then, but now….I think it likely he has a back up plan…just in case…Meigan and I failed."

Trip said, "I've got to admire the guy."

Charlotte gave him a nasty look.

George reappeared. "I have some bad news. Our friends up there, when the dynamic trio didn't reappear to report the deed was done, they started work on another scheme. They're rigging some equipment right now down by a landscaping shed about 50 yards from the house."

Trip said, "Yep. That's the intake for this refuge area."

John said, "It smells…like gasoline."

George said, "It is. I listened in. They know exactly where the ventilation piping is for this room. They are starting to force gasoline down into this chamber. Right now they're bringing up a tank of compressed oxygen. That will be used to push the gasoline down into this space and then there's some sort of ignition method…not sure how."

Trip said, "These rooms are safe from fire from the outside or above. I mean the house can burn down, but it's not safe if they push it in through the ventilation…and with oxygen…no that's not good at all."

Reggie said, "Yeah, and? George. Can you interfere?"

George looked thoughtful. "I think so. There sure are no reap keys coming my way. But I have another idea. When we stayed with Henry the other night he said something which didn't make sense then."

Grace remembered that too. "Didn't he say something about seeing us again soon for another visit? I felt like he was telling us something."

George said, "I think I know what he wants us to do. We have to act fast. Trip, tell the other people to stay put. They will be safe inside the other refuge room. And everyone. Put your phones on the table."

.

.

Eight minutes later George finished ghosting the last group of three back down the trail Grace and she had come up. She had put them beyond the point where they first saw the road and had them lie down flat on the trail in a long row head to feet. They did not have to wait long before the first explosion sounded. They couldn't see it but it was loud, and it was followed by more. And then the house was engulfed in flames. And by then it was obvious. George wasn't sure if the fire would stay contained at the house or if it might endanger them all. Probably not. She wasn't getting any reap orders and she suspected Fate might nudge things in the right direction. It was still daylight out but there's no doubt it would be visible for miles, and draw the attention of the authorities. Bob's team would not be sticking around. They had to get away down that single access road well before those authorities started heading up so she doubted they would linger at all.

George ghosted by her body out on the road. She hovered over it studying it. It was the version of herself the living saw or what was left of her. It didn't feel like her. She ghosted over to where she left the merry little band of survivors, who for the next five days, to make her plan work, would be like the little band of castaways - completely out of touch with civilization and presumed dead. She got out front, they could all see her now, and led them in a single file back down the trail that she and Grace along with BZ had come up. It was dark by the time they passed the depression into the mountain where they had hidden their packs. They walked by it and had to double back once they got to the spring. The three packs still had some food and she had them share it while they rested at the spring. It's amazing how good a can of tuna can taste. She didn't care now and wouldn't for three days. They couldn't light any fires and it would be cold. They would have to walk all night. George considered what she was planning. Rube already was not going to be happy but what could she have done? This way she thought could lead to finishing this for good, if Fate would cooperate. She didn't have reap keys so she took that as an OK to ghost the whole lot of them. Actually, not that Rube would see the distinction but two of them had been ghosted before and that meant she had only brought seven more into dependency on reapers, for life. And Rube might point out that she did those first two before so she was responsible for all nine. Maybe she set some sort of record. At least she didn't do Tommy. At least there's that. She would remind him of that up front.

At the spring after everyone had some water and a few bites of tuna and energy bars George said, "OK. Everybody. Listen up. I have to explain a few things."

BZ said, "Great. Finally."

"Dave, is it possible, after Bob finds out you all are alive, he will make another attempt?"

Dave looked around. "I'm sure he will want to kill me. The Hesburghs would have to die. He and the family have lost a lot because it's known widely that he failed twice to kill them, and now this third time will make him a laughing stock. He cannot allow that to stand, but likely Reggie Lass will be safe. She was never part of the contract. And it was Meigan that wanted her dead." He paused and pointed towards Jane and Tom. "He might want you two and to go with me. It's widely known or will be that you and now I have betrayed the family and our contracts."

BZ raised his hand and asked, "Why did I have to leave my phone back in the refuge room? I mean I could have called 911."

Grace frowned his way.

George nodded to Grace. "It's OK." She said to BZ and the rest, "Because for the next five maybe six days you are all dead."

Trip spoke up. "You want them to believe they succeeded."

"Yes. And to do that you have to disappear for five days, at least. The firemen or police will find my body for sure. And then they will finally talk to those people you put into the other refuge room and learn that the rest of you are dead. Bob no longer has Dave and Meigan to guide him, but I'm sure that after three days and nothing happens he will figure he got away with it free and clear." She looked toward Dave. "Is that how he will likely see it?"

Dave agreed. "Yes. Yes, I think so. I've always told him that if you're killed by someone who knows nothing of reapers and the like that you're forced into a three days of being a ghost."

John asked, "And where will we hide for the next five days. I assure you there will be some thorough searches throughout these mountains just to make sure…"

"We're going back over the mountain to a cabin we stayed at last night. I'm sure Henry is there." She said to BZ. "He's the man who dropped in on us a few days ago. He's not what he seemed."

BZ shook his head. "Nothing has been as it seemed."

Grace said, "So that's why he told us to camp at the cabin."

BZ said, "That cabin is just a couple of walls next to an overgrown cemetery. That's not going to keep us out of sight for five days."

"I'm certain Henry will be there. And, BZ, I bet it will look totally different now."

.

.

George hovered over the lot. She had Grace lead the way followed by BZ. They hiked all through that night. They couldn't use any lights and George had to confer with Grace and BZ a few times on which trail. It all looks different by moonlight, but they kept up a steady pace. Once during the early morning hours they came upon a small group of backpackers sleeping next to a spring. She felt their presence well before they walked through their camp. George touched their souls to keep them asleep in their tents and pushed the noticeability for their group down as far as she could get it, and they passed through without incident and no more ghosting.

Past the sleeping campers they could all hear a distant rhythmic deep drumming. George knew it was from the in-between. The others could hear it now too and they commented, but she didn't know what it was either.

Near dawn they were getting close to cliffs above the cabin. The drums were quiet. They were all dragging putting one foot in front of the other, past complaining, walking without talking. Dave was not doing well probably the worst of the lot. He stumbled more than once and she knew he was in pain but he didn't complain. During the few rest stops whenever anyone looked his way Dave smiled and whispered a joke despite it all. He was free of Meigan.

By dawn they were standing at the top of the cliffs above the cabin under the cover of several large trees. The sight was beautiful to behold in this early morning light. BZ pointed out, again, that the cabin was obviously not so much a cabin as two walls and some rubble, which is what it looked like from up here. They all made their way down the trail and its switchbacks snaking down through the rocks. At the bottom of the cliffs they stopped. The most dangerous leg of their hike as far as detection was getting across the open field bordering the cabin on three sides. It was early morning and already there were aircraft and helicopters out searching. One flew over and they had to take cover just to be safe. She didn't think the searching would last long. The household staff in the other room would be telling all they knew, which was that Trip, his wife, and their guests were all in the other refuge room. And that room it was obvious was the center of a very hot fire. They would work out the details with more time, the gas, the oxygen, but the most important detail would be that anyone in that room was dead, dead. The heat was so intense that they would not expect to find bodies. The police would track down info on their phones and of course there would be nothing to detect. As expected if they were destroyed in the fire. The news would shift from the famous Thomas Hesburgh and wife and guests missing in the first morning news reports to for sure pronounced dead by first evening broadcasts. And Bob would be watching the news reports. When on the third day there was no Georgia Lass in any form coming after Bob and his minions she was sure he would assume he had succeeded sadly perhaps losing Dave. Without Dave Bob had no way of knowing what happened to Meigan, or Marsha. The authorities finding Millie's corpse a few hundred yards from Trip's mansion would bring Grace and BZ onto growing list of likely dead. Millie was obviously murdered, first by a massive bullet strike to the legs and then some messy knife work…elsewhere. Millie Hagen would have a funeral. Poor Delores. That couldn't be helped. On the sixth day Trip and his guests would be miraculously found. A few anomalies but they had six days to figure a solution. She felt the outline of one taking shape.

Anyway after getting them all safely tucked away she needed to report to Rube and tell Mary that Grace and John were OK. She would have Rube or maybe better Roxy representing the police take care of Delores.

She would be meeting Baxter soon, she was sure. She didn't have the reap keys, yet, but she could feel Fate's hand hovering over hers eager to drop his key and many others into her waiting palm. Yes, she would meet Baxter soon enough. They stood bunched up just inside the forest looking out over the broad open field with their cabin goal so close. George couldn't see any aircraft now nor sense any of the living nearby. All it would take would be for one hiker to be up on the above cliff face looking down to admire the spectacular view and her ruse would be exposed. A day or two ago the hiking group had all stood up there looking down on the cabin and this meadow just as anyone up there would. And if anyone now saw this group, they would remember and they would tell the authorities. She might have to ghost them again in groups.

"Georgia, Grace. So glad to see you again. And you've brought some new friends. BZ, too. A surprise."

Grace said, "Henry?" They all turned. Standing just behind them was Henry. He was wearing the same clothes, jeans and a blue casual shirt, as when they met several nights before at their campsite, now minus his backpack and hat. No one said anything. It was shock and exhaustion. Most here knew something of Henry. A few days ago pretending to be a hiker he dropped in on their group. He persuaded them to detour to the cabin where he talked to Grace and her while the others slept nearby.

"Come on. Let's cross over." He caught himself. "I mean let's walk over to the cabin. You all must be, well, maybe not you Georgia, but the rest of you I bet are hungry and tired. Got everything you need right over there."

George almost laughed. They all turned back towards what used to be, probably was at one time, a cozy cabin under several shade trees next to a sizable stream. What they could see from here was a roofless few walls losing a battle against nature to remain standing and possibly losing that battle today.

"Come one. Let's go. It's not what it seems from here."

He walked out front and they all followed in a long single file across the open meadow, Death leading the way to a new life.

As they exited the forest George could feel him pull all the living into that in between place, or not. He wasn't ghosting them, but they weren't visible to the living. Odd. When they got close to the cabin they could see it was still standing as fresh and new as the day it was completed. Henry stopped just outside. He pointed to the outhouse. "No waiting, it's got two seats. And plenty of food inside and water outside." He waved towards the creek. There were two large drums sitting just outside the cabin's front door, hides stretched tightly five or six feet across. They stood maybe three feet tall. Designs not seen by any of the living in several centuries were carved around the sides. Those were the drums they heard as they walked through the night. Those she was sure did not come with the original construction plans. "For the next few days you will all stay here. Do not wander off. Stay close and no one will see you."

Grace found her voice. "Ahh. Henry. Are you ghosting us? For five days?"

.

.

"Not to worry, Grace. Well, your lives have been changed. That's done. Georgia had to ghost the lot of you back at Trip's house, but here no. Within this area I've put up a bubble obscuring the view of the living from the outside while allowing certain things, this cabin, these delightful party instruments…" He pointed at the two massive drums. "To coexist with you. You'll be fine. I've got plenty of food and you'll have a warm place to sleep. And you can wash off in the stream. There's a natural rock pool just twenty yards down."

Later that afternoon after a long sleep John and Reggie were standing under the shade of a massive old tree. Reggie got down on her knees and with a small stick tried to rub some grime off the date of a large center tombstone flanked by two small stones. Someone had put a lot of effort into getting these stones erected way out here. And these three had been set here at the same time.

Reggie said, "It's so sad. The mother was named Gladys." She got down close to one of the small stones. "And look at these dates. This was a little boy named Marcus. And…that one there was his sister, Lacy." She looked up at John. "A mother and two children, a boy and a girl, that died together on the same day." Reggie stood up. Henry walked up to join them.

She said, "They all died together."

Henry pointed over towards the cliff face. "The trail from that end of the valley comes down that stone height right there. It can be tricky in the dark. They were returning late one night and missed the trail for all the rocks up there, and fell together."

"So they all died…quick? Did you reap them?"

"No, I did not reap them. And sadly it was not quick. I was watching. Rube reaped them. He took it hard. He got too close, he did. And, no, Reggie, while they did die the same day it was not the same time."

John asked, "Was that the day Ice showed up in Seattle? Back in…1920 something…27?"

"It was. It was. Ice cleaned up some. Dusted a couple of rogue reapers. And I remember she walked your…let's see that was Rube's daughter…Rosie…she walked her home. Set Rube on the straight and narrow after that. That is until, your sister, Georgia, showed up." He chuckled.

John and Reggie exchanged a glance. Henry knew that little girl's name, his great grandmother. And he knew about George becoming a reaper and being assigned to Rube and that implied what? Her arrival was a trigger? Reggie asked affecting a casualness, "Why was George showing up…important?"

John was sure Henry could see through anything they could feign.

Henry smiled. "Each and every soul is important." He looked down the stream. Grace and BZ were returning from the pool. The two of them had eyes for each other. They could hear Grace laughing at something BZ said. Henry chuckled again. "Your cousin has taken a liking to him."

He knew that Grace was his cousin and not his sister. They usually just told people they were brother and sister, but he knew. Free will. Did it exist? Was he always meant to end up here? Ghosted? With Reggie and she ghosted too? And that meant forever tied to reapers, and Fate? He seriously thought, at one time, about resisting the pattern he saw taking shape, and tried to get Grace out of it, and almost died for it. He didn't believe in coincidence. He saw his near death as a warning. Well. Things could be worse. Much worse. He was with Reggie. He pulled her closer. She squeezed his hand. She knew his thinking about this. She never was so resistant to that pattern and was content with the direction events were taking them. She had her sister back from the dead, and she had him. He sighed. For now though they had no TV at all so they couldn't watch the news. He was sure they would be front page on the news cycle maybe for a day or two. No electricity at all for that matter, so poor Tom would be denied and they wouldn't have to sit through Gilligan's Island. Small mercy, that was. He looked around at the mountains, the forests. God this place was beautiful, peaceful. He thought when he had been ghosted his life had taken a change for the radically different. It was just the beginning.