Ghost Writer

Chapter Five: Revelation

Mort sat in the antiseptic laden air of the closest emergency room waiting area. He had followed the ambulance here but wasn't allowed any further into the hospital. It was a small hospital that still sees some action. There was a teenage boy dressed in a basketball uniform with two ice packs wrapped around his wrist. A young mother was trying to quiet her crying baby in the corner. And then there was Mort, who showed no signs of being physically hurt and had no one in his company who was hurt. The head ER nurse had told him that she wasn't allowed to disclose any information concerning Anna's condition unless her family gave the ok. He highly doubted that they would allow him access to her and her condition.

The sliding glass doors opened and a small group of people bustled into the ER, speaking loud enough for everyone to hear. Mort turned to see who they were and found himself staring back at Kate, Anna's older sister, her husband and two children. Mort stood up to walk over to her but she quickly averted her eyes and disappeared behind the forbidden doors that Mort was not allowed to pass through. When he turned around to return to his seat in the waiting room, he found himself staring at the last person he wanted to see: Sheriff Dave Newsome.

"Hello, Mr. Rainey."

Mort heaved a tired sigh. "Hello, Sheriff Newsome."

"You mind telling me what happened tonight?"

"Of course I wouldn't mind telling you if I had any idea what happened. But since I'm not family they're not telling me shit."

"But you are the one that called for help."

Mort tried to stare down the elderly sheriff but found himself too tired to really care whether he intimidated the cop or not. "I heard what sounded like a car accident and I reported it in case someone was hurt."

"And someone ended up being hurt, didn't they?"

"Well, it seems you already know what happened then." Mort sat back down and tried to ignore Newsome. The Sheriff had other ideas though and sat down next to Mort.

"I know that a young woman by the name of Anna was hit by car this evening around 6:45 at the end of your driveway, Mr. Rainey. So there is one thing that I don't know."

"What's that?"

"Why was my daughter coming out of your driveway?"

Mort had a snappy comeback for the old man but it quickly died on his lips. "Daughter?"

"That's right, Mr. Rainey. Kate and Anna are my daughters. And I want to know what business you have with Anna. Kate said she's been over to your place a couple times now."

Mort entertained the idea to tell Newsome that whatever "business" Anna and he had didn't concern anyone else. But he saw that it wasn't the rumor-spreading sheriff that was digging around for a reason to lock him up, but rather a concerned father.

"The first time she was sleepwalking and ended up in my front yard. I took her back home after she woke up." Mort left out the important part of when she almost drowned in the lake, figuring Anna's father probably won't want to hear about how he almost lost his daughter just a day ago.

"The next time I saw her was this morning when she brought back some clothes I had lent her from the previous night."

"Kate said that you both have been gone all day today."

Mort shifted uncomfortably in the hard plastic chair. "We went up to New London for lunch and just walked around the town. We came back, she got on her bike and left. A few minutes later I heard the accident."

Sheriff Newsome nodded thoughtfully and Mort waited for him to say something. When nothing was said and Newsome stood up to leave, Mort jumped to his feet as well.

"Could you at least tell me if she's going to be alright?"

"She'll be fine, Mr. Rainey. You can go home now." And Sheriff Newsome disappeared behind the forbidden swinging doors. Mort let out a strangled noise of frustration before turning around coming nose to nose with the only other person he could think of not wanting to see at this moment. Flashing a strained smile to the nervous looking head nurse, he made for the door, hearing the phantom footsteps of John Shooter following behind him. Once the cool night air hit him in the face did he turn to face his old nemesis.

"What do you want now?" he growled.

"I'd be a touch nicer to me if I were you, Mr. Rainey."

"I thought you were me."

"Unfortunately you and I are connected in some way but that's not here nor there. Right now I have a message from that Anna woman for you."

Mort finally stopped his fast paced trek across the dark parking lot and fixed Shooter with a glare. It unnerved him to no end to see this figure of his imagination standing before him as if he were a real man. Nothing had changed from the last time he had seen the man when he came pounding on the door of his cabin claiming Mort had stolen his story. Mort knew Shooter had a hand in the events that followed the next three days but he couldn't remember exactly what those events were. "What's the message?"

"She's fine, or least she will be. She has a busted up knee, some burns on her arms and legs and a hum dozer of scratch down her face." Shooter leaned up against the dusty black Jeep and pulled out his cigarettes. Lighting one up, he slowly exhaled the smoke into the night. "They'll be movin' her to her own room tomorrow morning. You can visit her then and no one can say 'boo' to you for doing so."

Mort crossed his arms across his chest. "Why are you doing this?"

"There's only one reason why a man does anything in this world."

"And what's that?"

Shooter fixed him with those stone gray eyes that glinted with the orange embers of the cigarette. "Why, love, Mr. Rainey."

Mort started laughing and was afraid he wouldn't be able to stop. "Love? Oh, that's a good one. You almost had me there."

"What are you laughing at, you imbecile?" Shooter angrily threw down his cigarette and ground it out on the pavement with a sharp stomp of his boot. "And you call me a hick and here you are laughing like the insane fool you are over something as beautiful as love."

"Oh, so you love her now? That's what this is all about?"

"Yes, Mr. Rainey, it is. This girl can see me, talk to me at times. I've watched her ever since she stepped foot in this god-forsaken place. And if I'm in love with a purty thing like this, then that means you are too."

Mort yanked open the driver's side door of his car. "I've known her for twenty-four hours. You may be in love with her, but I'm not."

Shooter appeared in the passenger side of the car. "Yeah, you are. You see, Mr. Rainey, you said it yourself. You are me."