AN:

Hi all
I wanted to thank you all (Candylou, Caseykam, t4swp, BMSH and Sofia) for your wonderful reviews. It's always very inspiring and encouraging to have engaging readers.
This is the final chapter of the story. Yes, there will be a lot of unanswered questions. The good news is the second story is almost complete and I'll start posting later this week.

Hope you'll enjoy the ending of this one!

Final Goodbye

The moment Frank cleared the confines of the vortex carrying Chet on his back, the animated wind snapped back into place with an audible howl of raging fury. Joe was trapped firmly inside the eye, which had now shrunken down to only about a two-metre radius, completely cut off from everything else. His view was restricted to muddy soil on the ground, a revolving circle of a dark grey sky full of falling rain from above and a thick curtain of wind and mist storming around him in a wild vortex. The water never got the chance to land inside the circle as it got mixed into the maddened gale around him, adding the whoosh of pelting rain into the continuous howling that surrounded him.

"Guess I should be grateful I'm dry," he mumbled sarcastically to himself, looking around. He was starting to shiver as the temperature kept dropping to freezing levels.

"I know you're there," he raised his voice and yelled at the black streaks he could see intermingled in the mist and swirling wind. "Show yourselves."

Responding to his yelled command, the dark streaks started to blend together, growing in size and shape as the wind kept twisting around him. As he watched, a wobbly, tall and thin shape made entirely out of black, slimy goo detached itself from the vortex and stepped into the eye, only a few feet away from Joe who was in the middle.

Huh! Joe thought, never taking his eyes off the creepy figure as it kept changing into a humanoid form. I wasn't even sure that was gonna work.

"You… you… you…" Joe heard an eerie voice echoing around him. He took a step back from the dark, ghastly figure instinctively, completely unnerved by the pure malice he could feel emanating from it in waves.

"Your fault!" it accused, its voice a menacing howl that wasn't too different from the wailing gale.

The rage seemed to enable the dark liquid-like substance to gain clearer features. The steadily solidifying figure seemed to vibrate on spot with all of its almost tangible malevolence focused completely on Joe. He felt numb from the cold as he stared at the impossibility before him, and his breath started to make strange shapes in misty clouds every time he exhaled. The air around him grew thick and heavy, with a faint smell of copper and ozone mixed in the atmosphere starting to make him slightly nauseous.

"Holy shit! you're dead!" Joe exclaimed incredulously when the freak show before him grew the same battered face he had seen only two weeks ago. The face had the same ghastly cut that had split open the dead terrorist's forehead on impact. The ghost of Al-Rousasa still bled black blood profusely from the cut on his garishly pale face, making him look like a zombie out of a bad horror movie. The shape had the same, height and build as the terrorist, but instead of skin over bones and clothes, he had the same black slimy goo that moved like a sentient liquid, flowing up, down and sideways in a bizarre display to hold up the humanoid shape together.

"Dead, dead…Dead…" its mouth moved in a distorted snarl and the words echoed in the gusts of the wind in a growl.

"Yes, that's right, you're dead, you piece of shit," Joe shouted back, tamping down his fear with a fury of his own. How dare this dead trash cause them all this trouble!

"Why the hell are you still hanging around in this world? Get lost!" he spat.

"Hell… hell… hell…" it screamed. "No!"

"Oh, yes. You're definitely going back to hell." Joe yelled back, although he had no idea how to make that happen.

"Not going back," the ghost wailed. Then it extended a spindly arm towards the vortex, and another wavy, hazy shape began to form against the wind currents. "Staying here, here, here…" the ominous chanting echoed as the newly formed wispy shape started to struggle in the raging ghosts' hold. "With her…"

Joe felt his insides freeze when the second, almost transparent form acquired the beautiful face of the girl he had loved more than life itself. He had no idea how Iola's spirit had managed to linger in this world or how the abominable thing that looked like a dead terrorist had gotten a hold of her. He couldn't even be sure if this was actually her. But seeing her all too familiar features contorted in pain and fear was enough to make his blood boil in anger.

"Let her go," Joe snarled, unconsciously taking a step forward, his hand extended, reaching for her as the ghostly Iola's screams got lost in the gale. "Al-Rousasa, let her go, now!"

"Never!" The ghost roared. His slimy form dissolved into a tangle of black veins that started to wrap around Iola's transparent form in a burst of spider webs.

Iola's struggles and screams intensified, adding to the sound of the howling wind to create a truly frightening cacophony echoing around them. Joe moved without much conscious thought, unable to let the girl he had once loved to suffer any longer. He was prepared for the scorching agony that ran down his entire arm when he gripped a handful of those squiggly, inky veins. With all his might, he pulled them back towards him, away from Iola's terrified form. The ghoulish mess caught in his vice-like grip fought back hard, searing his hand with its burning cold power and struggling to get back to the other ghost.

Joe gritted his teeth against the scream that wanted to rip out of his throat and hung on to the slippery ghost with all his strength. Some inner instinct made him look up and through the grey clouds, he saw another unbelievable, impossible sight.

There was a visible tear opening through the dark rainy clouds!

It looked like a line of lightning had cracked through the sky, except the bright silver branch stayed, engraved into the higher atmosphere without disappearing into the clouds. The wavy line shined brilliantly against the gloom of the fog and the rain, and the light that filtered through it seemed to grow brighter as the tear slowly widened.

Joe knew then exactly what he was supposed to do. The musical voice from his dreams rang faintly in his mind, guiding him to hurl the malevolent spirit right up in the air, where it would get sucked into Purgatory where it belonged.

"No… no… no!"

Getting his teeth and digging his feet, he put every ounce of his rapidly dwindling strength into grabbing the entire slimy, burning mess with both hands, groaning in pain and effort. The moment all the black, trembling veins disconnected from Iola, he threw it all up in the air as hard as he could, knowing that the light from the tear in the air would catch the spirit.

Lightening cracked and a resounding boom thundered through the sky.

The silvery light from the tear flashed towards the ground and caught the floating glob in midair, making it let out a piercing scream of defiance. At the last second, before it got hurled into the tear, it extended a strand away from its centre mass in a desperate attempt to hold onto Joe. The thing wrapped around his wrist twice and burned into him like a brand, making him howl in excruciating agony. Then to his utter disbelieving horror, it started to drag him along with it towards the opening in the sky.

Joe flailed around, fighting against the pull. There was nothing for him to hang onto and his over-extended arm felt as if it was about to tear off from his shoulder. He looked down and watched in terror as his feet dragged against the muddy soil and started to lose contact with solid ground.

"Oh, no you don't!" he heard Frank's snarl just before his brother's hand clasped around the bicep of his other arm. The moment the cold, wet skin of Frank's hand made contact with his flesh, the ghostly force on his other wrist dissolved into nothing in a blink, withdrawing back to the rest of its form to disappear into the tear, leaving only an echoing wail behind.

Released from the upward drag in such a sudden move, Joe fell backwards and collided against Frank's chest, causing them both to end up on the ground hard in a tangle. Frank let out a loud huff as his back hit the ground with Joe on top of him. Joe rolled off from his brother, flopped onto his back, and stared up at the sky that still had the ominous silver line fracturing the dark sky. The twister was gone and the wind was reduced to a mere breeze that hardly moved the massive trees surrounding them. The rain was now only a drizzle that continued to fall at a leisurely pace and the thick fog was nowhere to be seen.

"Tell me you saw what just happened," Joe rasped. "That I didn't hallucinate the entire thing."

"Nope. You almost got dragged into the air by a thing that looked like a squiggly mess of goo," Frank replied, sounding perfectly calm. Joe knew better. Frank was astounded just as he was but doing his best to keep it together for both their sanity's sake. "Also there's a wholly weird line of lightning that seemed to have frozen in place."

"Yeah," Joe sighed, blinking against the tiny raindrops to keep staring at the inconceivable sight. "I'm not crazy then."

"Not more than usual."

Then, cutting through the silence that fell between them, a soft whisper reached them.

"Joe…"

Joe stiffened. There was an audible tremble in her voice and he felt goosebumps that had nothing to do with the chill around them, rising all over his skin in response to her ghostly whisper.

He slowly stood up and Frank followed, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with him. Apart from the initial gasp at the surprise of seeing the ghost of the recently dead girl, his brother stayed quiet, letting Joe speak to her.

"Hey, Iola."

"Am I…What–what happened?" she looked around with a terrified and lost look on her hazy features. Joe felt his heart break all over again as stayed where he was, only a few feet away from her, deeply regretting what he had to do.

"Joe–" Frank warned very softly, trying not to startle the scared ghost before them.

"It's okay, Frank, I know what to do," Joe whispered back, never taking his eyes off of Iola. He saw Frank nodding once firmly in his periphery, accepting his word and letting him handle the final ghost.

"Iola," he said, letting her focus on him. Her dark brown eyes were completely black against the ghoulish pallor in the rest of her skin. Unlike the other spirit, she had the same clothes that she was wearing on the day of the explosion, even though they seemed just as hazy and transparent as the rest of her. Unlike the violent and rage-filled presence of the dead terrorist, she only radiated misery and fear, along with a dash of what felt like hope.

Joe felt a wave of sadness engulf him as he realised that he had to squash that ray of hope. "I think you have to go too," he murmured.

Her eyes widened in fear and her entire frame wavered. "Where?"

Joe looked up at the opening that was still there, waiting for her. She followed her gaze and let out a wail of protest.

"Iola, please," Joe begged. "I hate doing this, but you can't stay here–"

"Why?" she cried. "Why do you want to send me where that thing went, Joe? Why don't you want me to stay?"

"Oh, I wish you could," Joe said earnestly. "But Iola, you aren't here, not really. Not anymore."

It was painful to watch the way her expression crumbled. She hid her face in her hands and trembled. Her shoulders shook with the force of her sobs as she whimpered in despair.

As much as he wanted to take her into his arms and console her, to hug her tight and murmur soothing words to her, Joe knew he couldn't. So he stayed where he was, drawing strength from the silent and unwavering presence of his brother to keep still and do what he had to do. He knew deep in his heart that if he touched her, he wasn't going to be able to let her go.

"Iola, please," he said, keeping his tone soft yet firm. "Just go in peace. Don't make me force you, my love."

Iola looked up and locked her tear-filled gaze with his, having heard the unmistakable command laced into his gentle words.

"I'm afraid," she admitted, breaking eye contact to look up at the sky fearfully.

"Don't be afraid," Joe whispered. "He can't hurt you there."

"How'd you know?"

"I do know," Joe implored with a sad smile. "Trust me."

"I do."

"Goodbye, Iola."

It was much easier and more peaceful than the other spirit's violent departure. She dissolved into a wispy cloud before their eyes and floated towards the opening that waited for her, and the silver line that flashed down to catch her looked more like a gentle embrace than a chain that dragged her into prison.

The scant strength that held him upright until then left him the moment the sky sewed itself back together, closing the opening to the spirit world. Joe felt his knees buckle and Frank's quick reflexes caught him before he fell to the ground face-first. He ended up collapsing against Frank's chest instead, his face hidden in his brother's shoulder as Frank held him in a tight embrace.

He didn't cry. He had already cried all his tears of sorrow back at her funeral. This second goodbye brought a sense of peace with it, mingled with the underlying grief. He wrapped his own arms around his brother and just took a moment to breathe through the fresh pain, knowing that finally, she was at a place where she belonged, until she passed onto her next destination.

After some time, he slowly detached himself from Frank's hold and straightened. He ran a hand through his hair and looked up, for one last time, contentedly letting the strange sense of calm settle within him.

When he looked down again, Frank was studying him with a worried look on his face.

"Are you okay?"

Joe summoned up a tired, but genuine smile. "Yeah, yeah, I am."

Frank stared at him and then nodded, having confirmed to himself that Joe really was fine for the first time in the past fourteen days. He let out a small chuckle and flung an arm around Joe's shoulder in a half embrace.

"Can we go home now, then?"

"Yes, please," Joe agreed. "I'm done with this ghost-hunting business."

They walked together towards the stream that still tried to pass itself as a river and made the perilous crossing for the third time that day. Just as they reached the opposite side of the bank where the small cobbled path led them back towards Morton's home, Joe sneezed three times in quick succession.

"Bless you," Frank said when Joe shook his head and tried to clear his clogged nostrils. "I bet you–" that was as far as he got before he had to sneeze a few times before catching his breath.

Joe laughed at Frank's crestfallen expression. It seemed that they were both coming down with a head cold. After all the hours they just spent in the rain and the unnaturally chilly weather, it wasn't even a surprise.

"You laugh now," Frank muttered, wrinkling his nose in displeasure. "Wait 'til mom finds out."

Joe's mirth faded at the reminder. Their mother positively hated it when they both got sick at the same time. They were the worst patients in existence according to her!

"Crap!"

The End.