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Phantom, Danny
The story you know from the very beginning.
…and from a slightly different point of view.
Chapter 10: The Cold
-Day 23-
Ghosts don't sleep. It was a fact of his existence and always had been. However, when he was curled up in the darkness of the human mind, waiting for School to be over, strange memories played through his head. They weren't his memories, he was nearly certain. They contained cars and airplanes and tennis shoes. But he was also pretty sure they didn't belong to The Danny.
One particularly odd memory surfaced of walking down the street, talking to The Sam about a movie they'd seen, and suddenly finding the road disintegrating beneath his feet. Water surged around him, choking him. He heard The Sam scream distantly, her voice broken as waves covered her again and again. He yelled something and reached for her, but she vanished beneath the water, which had mysteriously turned an inhuman green.
The scream startled him out of the memory and he lay in the corner of the human mind, thinking through what he'd seen. He could distantly hear the human's thoughts, worming around and mumbling numbers. There was something oddly reassuring about it.
Too disturbed by the odd memory to relax, he uncurled and slid closer to the world. The Danny was sitting in his study class, staring down at a sheet full of scribbles. From the muttered numbers and the calculator sitting on the table, he assumed it was attempting to do math again. Having fun?
It flinched, drawing a line on the paper. It scowled. "Had a bad dream?" it asked softly, erasing the stray line.
Ghosts do not dream. We do not sleep.
"If you say so. You felt pretty asleep to me, though," it mumbled.
He felt a flicker of confusion, but pushed it aside. What are you working on?
"Balancing chemical equations. You wouldn't happen to be a chemical genius from the 1700s, would you?"
I do not understand what a chemical equation is.
It set the pencil down with a sigh. "No help then. I'll have to bug Sam later."
How much longer is School today?
"The same length as always," it breathed, looking up at the clock and tapping a finger on the table. "I get to go home at 3:10." Then it paused. Shivered. Something that felt like ice had been run down its back. "Oh, not again," it whispered.
I have never felt this before. What is it? He pulled away from the unpleasant sensation.
"You don't know?" It sounded surprised. "But it started when you…" it trailed off, looking around. It shivered again, running its hands over its arms where little bumps had appeared.
I do not know what it is, he replied. But I do not like it.
It hesitated a minute longer, then stood up and walked up to the front of the room, trying in vain to suppress its shivering. "May I use the bathroom?" it asked the human sitting behind the desk. He'd given up on learning The Teacher's name, as The Teacher seemed to change shape and appearance from room to room.
"Yup," it replied blandly.
The Danny hurried from the room and walked quickly down the hallway. Where are you going?
It shivered and wrapped its arms around itself. "To grab a jacket, if nothing else," it answered shortly. "And hopefully away from whatever's causing the cold."
They passed several other humans standing in the hallways. None of the other humans seem to feel it, he noted.
The Danny nodded. "And it's getting worse," it murmured, its breath fogging in the air.
The coldness was an almost painful bite against its skin. The feeling radiated into his mind as well. He shuddered. We should locate the source of the cold.
It reached its locker, quickly spinning the combination and grabbing the thin jacket that was stuffed inside. "Why in the world would I want to do that?" It put the jacket on, but it didn't seem to help.
So it could be avoided in the future.
That made The Danny pause. It closed the locker and looked down the hallway. "Yeah, okay. It's gotta be this way, right?" it said, its forehead furrowing in thought. "Since it's getting colder..." It hesitated a moment longer, then started to pace down the hallway.
The cold grew from uncomfortable to truly painful. Every breath was a thick fog in front of its face. It had curled its fingers up inside of its pockets, but they were going numb from the cold. The Danny was wondering why ice wasn't forming on the building around them.
The Danny turned its eyes towards the storeroom door. He focused on it as well. There was something behind the door. The thing that made this cold.
"We should see what it is," it whispered, edging closer.
We know where it is. Now we should leave. He reached for the body's hands, hoping to keep them trapped inside of its pockets. The human would need them to open the door. He didn't want to know what was inside of the closet.
He was nothing more than a tiny scrap of a ghost – bottom of the food chain, nearly – and he'd existed as long as he had because he didn't do stupid things like open doors that were probably hiding something that was emitting a deadly cold. He had a good dose of fear when it came to things that could eat, maim, destroy, or otherwise ruin a perfectly solid existence.
The Danny, though, wanted to. It struggled for control of the hands, causing waves of pain to rip through both their minds.
Then, quite suddenly, the cold was gone.
Both of them stopped and stared at the door to the storage room, warmth starting to leech back into The Danny's body. "That's… weird," it whispered.
May we go now? he asked, not caring if he sounded a little desperate.
The Danny edged up to the door, pulling a hand from its pocket and quickly tapping the doorknob. It wasn't cold. "Just a second."
I do not wish to know.
"It's gone," it said, although it didn't sound very convinced. It grabbed the doorknob and jiggled it. The door was locked. "Can you do your walk-through-walls thing and get us through?"
No. He pulled away from the human mind. I do not wish to go into that room.
"I wonder what it was…"
I do not, he answered. I wish to never meet it again.
The Danny stood there, with his hand on the door, breathing quietly for a moment. Feeling was starting to return to its fingers in tingles and flashes of pain.
Do you not wish to return to class?
"Yeah," he whispered, letting go of the knob and slowly heading back up the hallway. "You've never felt anything like that before we…" it trailed off, flushing as some of the other humans shot it looks. "Ya-know," he finished quietly.
No. I have never felt something like that before either. He shook his head. Ghosts do not feel cold. I did not understand the concept of temperature until I was trapped in your mind.
The Danny sighed and made its way back to class, dropping heavily into its seat. It poked at its homework a few times before pushing it away with a sigh. "I can't do this."
I am sorry. I cannot help.
It tapped its finger on the desk. "Wanna practice writing again?"
No. After a few practice sessions in earlier study periods, he had determined that he did not have the necessary skill set to do the human task called 'writing'. The scribbles simply all looked the same. It was an illogical waste of time to try to learn it and, besides, ghosts weren't creatures well known for learning.
"I'll let you try to teach me to fly again," it bribed.
He paused. Having the human on his side when it came to flying was something he rather wanted. He loved flying. Teaching the human to enjoy it too would allow him to fly more often. And writing a few squiggles on a page really wasn't that difficult a chore. For how long?
"Alphabet once through," it said, picking up the pencil and wiggling it.
And you will leave the cold alone?
It hesitated, the pencil stopping its wiggle, but then it nodded. "Deal."
With a sigh, he reached for the human body. The human mind gave way, allowing him control of the hands. The feel of the pencil in his fingers was suddenly more real. He blinked his eyes and shifted, trying to find a comfortable position, as he maneuvered the pencil into the correct place between his fingers. "Which is first?"
A.
The human pushed a picture of an 'A' into his mind when he hesitated for too long. Then, carefully biting his tongue, he put pencil to paper and tried to make the squiggles look right.
.
.10.
.
-Day 23-
"Just two seconds," The Danny muttered as it grabbed its backpack from the locker and raced down the hallway. "We just gotta meet up with Sam and we can go home."
You promised we would leave at 3:10. It is now 3:14. He poked at its mind.
The Danny scowled. "I should never have taught you how to read a clock."
He shrugged in response and settled back. He'd been slowly 'learning' things simply from the human's presence – he figured he'd know how to tell time by this point regardless. It wasn't an extremely difficult concept.
It skidded to a stop in front of a new room in the School. It poked its head in, spotting The Sam slouching in a chair by the side. "Rescue!" she said, jumping to her feet.
An overweight human looked up from its spot at the desk. "You walkin' her home?" it growled.
The Danny nodded. "Come on, Sam."
"God," The Sam muttered, closing the door behind her and storming up the hallway. "It's just a headache. You'd think my parents thought I were dying."
He frowned a little in thought. The Sam is dying? The thought brought with it a strange swirl of emotion. -Worry?-
"You're not dying," The Danny said with a roll of its eyes. "Be happy your parents didn't show up with the cavalry like mine would have."
The answer uncurled the little knot of emotion that had been formed. I am glad she is not dying.
"Your parents don't have a cavalry," The Sam muttered, almost dragging them out of the school and onto the sidewalk. "They'd send some strange invention to get you. A robotic… ghost… thingy."
The Danny curled the corner of its mouth into a grin. "And they'd have some odd name for it, to keep the ghosts from knowing what it was for."
Why would you not wish ghosts to know what the robotic thingy is? he put in questioningly. And what is a robotic thingy?
The human mind pushed at his – the shut up self evident.
He scowled and curled up, unhappily allowing the human to continue its conversation without his input.
Only… "Sammikins!"
Both humans stopped in their tracks. "Oh no. Oh dear, God, no," The Sam whispered.
The Danny slowly glanced over its shoulder. A human dressed in shades of pinks and purples leaned out a car, waving its hand in the hair. It had a strange hat on its head that seemed to be sprouting feathers and trying to escape. "Sammikins!" it called again.
The Sam walked in the other direction. "I didn't see anything," she muttered.
"Sam? Isn't that your mom?" The Danny asked slowly, chasing after her.
"No. I don't know her. I've never met anyone by that description before. And if she tries to force me into her vehicle, I will scream and yell like a woman being kidnapped."
The Danny frowned. "Isn't that a little harsh?"
"No. It's a little too nice," The Sam said darkly.
There was the sound of a car crunching up behind them on the pavement. When it drove past, The Danny glanced in its direction. The car was black, and the strange human was still leaning out the back window. "Samantha," it said, the cheerfulness gone from its voice. "Do you have no manners?"
"My parents never taught me any," she said. Her fingers were clenched around the strap of her backpack and she'd come to a stop beside the road. "It's a headache, Mother. I don't need to be driven to the emergency room."
"I had no such plans," the other human said primly. "We have an important business meeting to attend. Get in the car."
"Yeah, I have plans," The Sam said. "I'll see you after this meeting."
"Samantha Marie Manson." Another human was leaning out of the back window. "Do as your mother says."
He perked up a little in the human's mind, trying to determine who could be driving the car if both adults were in the back seat. From what he'd seen, the cars were unable to drive themselves, and Danny had been adamant about the fact that human families were made up of two parents and children.
She opened her mouth to complain, but stopped with a broken, horrible sigh. "Dad…" she pleaded, but it seemed to be a futile effort.
"Now, Samanatha," the two humans in the car said at the same time.
She scowled. "If I don't show up at school tomorrow, tell the world who took me," she said under her breath as she stalked past and got into the front passenger seat.
"Hey, Mr. and Mrs. Manson," The Danny said, waving.
The window of the black car rolled up without an answer and veered off down the street.
The Sam does not like those two humans, he said.
"Yeah, that's obvious," The Danny muttered. It stuffed its hands into its pockets and started to slouch up the street. "Tucker's in detention, Sam's off someplace. So all my afternoon plans are shot."
Would you like to try flying?
"No." The short answer was accompanied by a sharp shake of its head.
He was quiet a moment, watching The Danny walk a few blocks in silence, before putting the question in his mind into words. Why did The Sam think she was dying?
It sighed. "She didn't. She had a headache. She gets those every once in a while."
Why? He knew the concept of a headache, but not what caused them. Does she also have a ghost inside of her mind?
It snorted and shook its head. "No. She just does. I think girls get lots of headaches."
Pleased that the human seemed to be willing to answer his questions, he pressed on. What was that room she was trapped inside? Is that a place for humans who are in pain?
Its nose wrinkled. "Yeah… no… kinda. That was the nurse. She helps people that are sick get better."
Like The Lancer was sick. He stayed in this room as well?
"No."
But you said-
"Look, I know what I said. But there are lots of places to go if you get sick, not just the one room in our school." It kicked at a rock, sending it tumbling down the street. "Why do you want to know, anyways?"
He thought about that. I am curious. I am trapped in this world and I wish to understand. Your world is so different from mine.
The Danny shrugged. "Ghosts don't get sick?"
I do not understand the concept of sick.
"Well…" The Danny trailed off. It kicked the rock again, but this time more lightly. It skittered a bit, coming to rest a few feet ahead. "Sick is when you have a virus inside of you."
He waited a beat for more than that. What is a virus?
"A bug. Another thing that gets into you and makes you not feel well-"
The Lancer had another thing inside of its body? A virus? He felt the human's understanding of the concept of sick curl through him. Images of sick flickered through his mind and made him shudder in revulsion.
"Yeah."
And The Sam does as well? He rather liked The Sam. To think she had something inside of her, making her unwell…
"No." The Danny sighed. "She just has a headache."
But she could, some day.
It stopped and blinked. "Well, yeah. All humans get sick."
That thought made him freeze. Including you?
"Yes…"
Humans are disgusting things, he told it, struggling to keep his repulsion in check. I forbid you from allowing the viruses inside of you while I am present.
The Danny arched an eyebrow. "Forbid?" he echoed skeptically. "It's not usually a choice I get."
You will learn how to make that choice. I must put up with your filthy eating habit, I will not deal with your desire to become sick.
It snorted disbelievingly. "Desire?" it repeated. "I don't want to get sick! And I have to eat or I'd die."
I do not believe you. He curled up in the back corner of the human's mind, still shuddering in disgust at the idea of getting sick. That small room in the School – the nurse – notched up on his scale of places he never wished to revisit. The human world had many such places.
"Ghost."
He could just barely hear the human as it sighed and continued walking towards its home.
.
.10.
.
-Day 23-
"Jack, look at this," The Mom said as it paged through a handful of letters it had picked up from the table.
The Dad bounded over. It was still wearing its bright orange jumpsuit. "Postcard?"
He was sitting at the table, picking through an after school snack of a cheese sandwich The Mom had insisted he eat, proclaiming that he was getting too skinny from not eating enough. He figured he was eating too much. Case in point: this cheese sandwich deserved to be not eaten.
"It's from Vlad Masters." There was a strange note in The Mom's voice.
"Vladdie? I haven't heard from him in years," The Dad said, picking up the postcard. Its face twisted into a smile. "He's planning a college reunion in a couple of months."
"I read that," The Mom said.
"He's wondering what we're up to," The Dad was saying with an excited grin.
He took the moment to excuse himself before the two humans had noticed he wasn't eating his sandwich. He grabbed the offending bit of food and carted it up to The Danny's bedroom. No doubt the human would want to eat it later.
He dropped the plate onto the desk and then collapsed onto the human's bed. It was soft. He closed his eyes and poked the human mind. No response – it was fast asleep.
It was just over three weeks since he'd been trapped in this world. It was hard to imagine it at times; a tiny scrap of a ghost like him spending nearly a month in the human world. None of the ghosts would believe him when he got home.
If. If he got home.
He rolled onto his stomach and pulled the pillow closer to bury his head in. The thoughts of his home had become more and more distant as the days dragged on. Lately, they were stirred more by his strange memories than actual thoughts in his head. Ghosts didn't belong in the human world. It was a fact of existence he'd never wanted to fight.
But the human world was like one of those viruses The Danny had told him about. It was bright and full of feelings and tastes and smells that made his world explode into reality. This human existence made the world of the ghosts seem dull and empty. It snuck its way into every nook and cranny of his thoughts, contaminating them.
There were many things he didn't want to leave, regardless of the fact that a ghost like him shouldn't be here. The thought of going home had quickly stopped being something he wished for, and had become an almost painful thought. A nagging, aching sensation that he didn't want to leave, not yet. He wanted to experience just one more day, to see just one more thing, even if it meant dealing with humans and all their disgusting living habits.
He snorted and curled up a bit closer to the pillow. "Humans," he muttered. They were half the problem. Although they were heavy and thoughtless and fleshy, repulsive creatures… they weren't as bad as he'd expected them to be. Some of them even were growing on him. The Sam was an interesting human. Even The Danny had good points – now and then.
It was almost three weeks since The Danny had stolen him from his world. Eighteen days since he had been convinced not to tell the other humans of his existence. So little time when compared to his long existence in the ghost world. And yet, that short amount of time had changed so much.
He sat up, punching at the pillow, and ran a hand through his hair to get it out of his eyes. "Danny?" he asked, poking fiercely at the human mind.
What? it muttered quietly.
"Can we go flying tonight?"
It grumbled something akin to agreement before sinking back into sleep.
He sighed, shaking his head. Flying was one of the best things about this world. Especially at night, when everything was consumed by shadows and moonlight. The human was slowly coming to appreciate it as well – and slowly getting better at it. The last time they'd gone flying a few nights ago, The Danny had kept itself in the air for several minutes before needing help. It had taken an interest in learning to use its energy after the cold thing in the storage room.
Another thing he'd been struggling with were The Danny's memories. He picked up the pillow and held it to his chest, closed his eyes, and focused. He wanted something, a memory.
And there it was. The Danny was celebrating a birthday party last year. It had just blown out the candles and was getting teased for missing one.
He flicked his eyes open and shook his head, pushing the memory away. He didn't understand why the human's memories were encroaching on his mind, and he wasn't comfortable with it. It made him worry that the human was getting at his memories too, what few he had left from his life.
With nothing to do put wait for the human to wake up, he lay back down on the bed and stared at the stains on the ceiling. That one over there looked something like a dog, when he turned his head and squinted just right.
The stains couldn't keep his churning thoughts away, though. They chased his mind around in circles until he closed his eyes, and then they followed him. He wasn't sleeping.
Ghost's don't sleep. And they don't dream.
But maybe it was some sort of memory. He was sitting at a table he didn't recognize. A thick-set human was bustling around the kitchen, eventually setting a plate with some bread in front of him. It said something, but he couldn't hear it.
He watched it scrub at some dishes as several other humans, children by their size, came into the room and surrounded him at the kitchen table. They all got a bit of bread too, from the largest human. It was talking, something mumbled and indistinct.
Then the humans were all gone, except for him and the human. It was staring at him, waggling a finger, and its mouth moved in mushy sounds as it pointed to things.
"I don't understand," he told it.
It strode across the kitchen and grabbed him by the front of his shirt. It was white, he realized, his favorite shirt, even back in his memories. The human shook him a moment, making his head spin. "Get to work, Daniel!" it shouted, then tossed him back into the chair.
He watched as it stalked from the room. Alone in the room, he reached into his mind and poked for the human mind. For a desperate moment he couldn't find it.
Then it was there. He poked it, got a sharp jab back, and found himself yanked out of memory. The Danny was sitting at the kitchen table, eating supper. It sent him grumbling thoughts.
He wavered, confused and lost, startled at the strangeness. Ghosts didn't remember their lives well enough to have anything but the most faint memories. Ghosts didn't dream.
And yet there was really no doubt that had either been a real memory, or a dream.
But ghosts don't have either of those.
I'm still a ghost, right? He hadn't meant to ask the human, for surely the human wouldn't know or understand.
It stuck a forkful of food into its mouth, seemingly ignoring the question, and left him to contemplate his existence by himself.