Chapter Two: The Last Hurrah

"Life is pleasant. Death is peaceful. It's the transition that's troublesome." - Isaac Asimov

A strange sensation keeps me from falling asleep. It's a nagging feeling that pushes its way to the front of my mind, telling me that something is on the horizon and I'm not going to like it. Like those times when my enemies are hatching an evil plot but without the caution and suspicion that normally comes with it. Instead, I feel oddly sad.

And, I keep thinking about Ida for some reason. (I know why.)

9:26 pm. That's not the current time, but it seems important. (I know why.)

I toss and turn, trying to brush off the feeling, but it's pointless. I've been feeling like this since long before I or my friends went to bed.

Ida crashed around eight o'clock, so Sam helped her to her bedroom. The feeling started roughly an hour later.

I asked my friends if they felt off in any way. Their responses were not reassuring.

"I feel fine," Sam said with a confused shrug.

"Me, too," Tucker said. "You sure it's not your Ghost Sense?"

I shook my head. "It's definitely not. It's like… Ugh. I don't know how to describe it." (The grief settling in, biding its time.)

Sam furrowed her brow. "Maybe you should lay off the soda and popcorn." We'd been in the middle of an action movie.

"I'm not sick," I clarified, though I had lost my appetite. "I just feel…weird."

"You know what it is?" Tucker grinned and leaned back in his seat with his hands behind his head. "You're not used to so much uninterrupted fun! Three whole days must be taking a toll on your paranoid mind."

I tossed a handful of popcorn at him.

"Why don't you do a quick patrol?" Sam suggested. "That always makes you feel better. We've all seen this movie before anyway."

That did sound like a good idea. "You guys don't mind?" I asked, already transforming.

Tucker waved off my question. "Knock yourself out, Captain Paranoia."

I rolled my eyes. Then, I told them not to wait up for me, we said goodnight, and off I went.

I stayed out until around midnight. The feeling never went away. (I knew it wouldn't.)

I managed to doze off a little, but it's now just after two-in-the-morning, and I can't stop thinking about Ida. With nothing else to do, I give in to the urge to check on her.

Even though I did that right before I left for patrol, and she was fine (because it's not time yet).

I creep down the stairs and toward Ida's room. I carefully open the door and am greeted once again by the sound of Ida's loud snoring. She's fine.

For now.

No! She's fine!

She's…

"If you are close by to someone living their final day, you will know."

I keep trying to deny it.

I pull the door closed and stand alone in the hallway. What am I going to do? I should tell Sam and Tucker, right? But, then they'd be sad all day. Do I really want to ruin Ida's last day on Earth? But, I can't just not tell them!

Maybe…maybe I should talk to Ida.

Reaper said that when an angel senses a dying person, that person can sense an angel's presence. Supposedly, that brings the person peace on their final day, telling them that it's going to be alright.

Even when no one else feels that way.

If that's true, that means Ida will know I'm not human. This is going to be an interesting conversation.

At least her death will be peaceful.

I try going back to sleep. It doesn't work.

I do a late - early? - patrol. Stopping that bank robbery, attempted by humans, was a nice five minute distraction.

When I get back, I open the book I brought with me and stare at the pages for a while.

My last course of (distr)action is to do any manner of housework I can find. Despite having spent the last three days being occupied by three teenagers and a senior citizen, the house is already clean. That doesn't stop me. I just need to do something.

Eventually, I glance at the clock and realize that Sam and Ida - Tucker sleeps in any chance he can get - will be up soon. Which means facing someone who will take one look at me and know what's going on and someone who will be totally clueless. Great…

I am in the kitchen because…I don't know. Breakfast is a thing. Should I start working on that? I'm not a chef, but I know how to make a few things. Not sure how Sam's vegan bacon and fake-eggs-from-a-bag work. How does she eat that stuff?

I don't get to figure it out, because the whirring of a mobility scooter makes my heart stop.

Play it cool, Fenton. Play it cool.

Ida Manson, still in her pajamas - we've all been mostly wearing our pajamas these past few days - comes rolling in and stops when she sees me. She drives a little bit closer and purses her lips, giving me a long, long look.

Has her hair always been that white? Has her skin always been that spotted and wrinkly? I remember a time when she didn't need that scooter to get around. I also recall her saying that she'd had Sam's father "right on the cusp of menopause." That would mean she was in her late forties or early fifties at the time. Mr. Manson is about my parents' age. That means that Ida is in her late eighties or early nineties! Why am I just now realizing that?

Probably because she thinks and acts like someone so much younger. It would be one thing if her mind was gone, but she is so. Damn. Present.

"Good morning, Ida!" I smile and throw as much cheer into my voice as I can. Even I'm not buying it. I grab the bag of gross not-eggs and clutch it in both hands like a shield. "Maybe you can help me with Sam's weird…fake-egg…powder…stuff? Seriously, is this even food?"

Ida keeps staring at me. Meanwhile, I'm standing here with a bag of yellow powder that's somehow considered edible and hoping Ida gives before I have to.

Fortunately, she does. Her features relax into a sad but understanding smile. "I would have expected my husband, but you'll do."

She knows. It's just like Reaper said. Ida knows.

With all the sweating I'm doing, I'm surprised my shirt isn't stuck to me. "I-I don't know what you're talking about." I hold up the bag like I'm in a commercial. "Fake egg?" I offer, trying to change the subject.

Ida doesn't bite. She leans on her handlebars and raises an eyebrow. "I may be old, and apparently not long for this earth," I cringe and press the bag against my chest, "but I ain't senile." She squints and adjusts her glasses. "What are you, exactly?"

"Um…"

An insane part of me wants to play dumb, but what good will that do? I may as well come clean while we're still alone.

With a deep breath and a broken heart, I let the ice-cold rings form around my waist and travel up and down my body. Ida blinks at me in shock. She takes off her glasses, wipes them on her nightgown, puts them back on, and blinks some more.

Finally, she chuckles in disbelief. "Well, hot damn! You Fentons are full of surprises, aren't you? Do Sam and Tucker know?"

"Yeah," I say before switching back to human-form. "My sister knows, too. There's also our friend, Valerie. And, my friends, Dash and Paulina. And, this couple in Nebraska; long story. And, I told my parents a few months ago. They were a lot harder to come clean to."

"I can imagine," Ida says. Like everyone else in town, she knows how my parents used to be when it came to ghosts.

I set the bag down and lean against the counter. "That's everyone as far as humans go." Full-humans, at any rate.

"Sounds like you've got plenty of help, then." She gives me a once-over. "Is this something ghosts do? Hang around folks who are on their way out?"

I hate this. I hate this. I have no idea what I'm doing. "Not exactly. From what I'm told, only a certain type of ghost can even sense that sort of thing." I can't look at her, so I keep my eyes trained on the marble-or-whatever-expensive-material-this-is floor. "You've probably heard by now that I'm an angel. Well…we're not quite what Judaism had in mind. I assume."

"You assume right," Ida says.

Keeping my eyes on the floor, I explain that angels are able to not only sense when someone is about to pass on, but that we can help them cross over as well. Somehow my voice stays steady throughout, possibly because I'm saying it to the floor instead of Ida's face.

"You do this sort of thing often?" Ida asks.

A bitter smile tries to form on my lips. "Actually, you're the first one. My angel powers only came in last month, so…"

Ida hums. It's a sympathetic sound. "How long do I have?"

Don't look at her. Don't look at her. "Until 9:26 tonight."

Ida is silent as she takes this in. She's so calm. I almost wish she would panic and yell at me or something. Reaper said that an angel's presence puts the person at ease. I didn't think that would be so unsettling in practice.

"Danny."

I force my gaze away from the floor. Ida's hands are folded over the handlebars, and she looks at me with a kind firmness. (It's acceptance, but I hate that word right now.)

"If this is to be my last day on Earth," Ida says, "could you do something for me?"

"Anything!" I say instantly, straightening and facing her head-on. Whatever she wants me to do, I'll do it. I don't care what it is.

"Could you keep this between us?"

…Maybe I care a little.

When I don't speak, Ida goes on. "I don't want anyone moping around today. Especially not my bubeleh." "Bubeleh" is her nickname for Sam. "I want everyone to have a good time like we have been. That includes you, Danny."

How can I do that? How can I have fun knowing what's coming? How can I spend the whole day keeping this inside, keeping it from the ones who need to hear it?

But, I have to. Because it's Ida's last wish.

"I understand if that's too much to ask-"

"No!" I protest. "No, I can do that." I force my lips into a smile that only trembles a little and jab my thumb at my chest. "Danny Phantom, remember? I'm used to keeping secrets."

Just not from my best friends.

Sam suggests we visit a wildlife park that she and Ida have been to before. It's an hour's drive away, but we don't mind.

Truthfully, Ida's opinion is the only one that matters to me.

Keeping up the happy façade is chipping away at my sanity, but since half-dying or however that works, I've become a pro at faking a smile. And, I acknowledge that that isn't something I should brag about.

The park is nice, sort of a petting zoo crossed with a small regular zoo. Most of the animals - carnivores, obviously, and monkeys and birds - are secluded, but there are still animals that you can touch over a fence. You can also pay an extra three dollars for a cup of pellets to feed to those animals. Ida insists on paying for everything, and I'm the only one who knows it goes beyond her grandmotherly nature.

Unfortunately, my Ghost Sense goes off as soon as Sam pulls into the parking lot. I almost mention it out loud before remembering that Ida's not supposed to know I'm a ghost. While she's paying for our admission and food cups, I pull the guys aside and tell them to keep an eye out. Shortly after, I manage to sneak a warning to Ida as well.

I won't let anything ruin Ida's last day.

Nothing bad happens, thank God, and we have a good time. We hear two lions roar at each other from across their enclosure. (Why they can't walk up to each other and talk is anyone's guess.) We watch a fancy colorful bird try to…maybe seduce a different exotic bird, who squawks at him and scurries away; I guess she isn't interested. An alpaca tries to steal Tucker's beret, which amuses everyone except Tucker. A cow licks my entire hand when I feed it, which makes me grateful that there are hand sanitizer dispensers everywhere.

Everything is blissfully normal until we reach the goat pen and find out what triggered my Ghost Sense.

We're not the only visitors stunned by the sight before us. We are, however, the ones closest to the signpost in front of the exhibit.

Why is that Goat Green?

On April 18, 2007, our dear friend, Bucko, passed away peacefully at the ripe old age of 15. On June 12, 2007, we were shocked to find that a glowing green goat had appeared in the pen! After careful observation, we came to realize that this mystery ghost wasn't a mystery at all. It was Bucko! We don't know how he found his way home, but we are delighted to have him back! Rest assured that you are in no danger from the new, ghostly version of Bucko. He seems content to stay in the pen and behave the same way he did in life: as sweet and silly as his goat friends!

-Management

Ida whistles in amazement. "Just when you think you've seen it all."

Took the words right out of our mouths.

Apart from the glowing green fur and neon yellow eyes, Bucko looks like an ordinary goat. He acts like one, too. All the goats, alive or otherwise, have gathered at the edge of their pen to beg for food like they haven't eaten in weeks. Some poke their heads through the bars of the fence. Others, including Bucko, have their front hooves propped up on the bottom bar and are sticking their heads over the fence.

Visitors are happily feeding the living goats, but I notice that they back off when Bucko gets too close. The kids seem eager to feed this strange technicolor animal, but the parents try to pull them away.

Poor Bucko. He's trying so hard to go back to his old life, yet all he gets is rejection. Doesn't stop him from trying, though. I have never related so much to an animal.

"I'm gonna feed Bucko," I decide. "I know he doesn't need food now, but-"

"Nah, man. We get it," Tucker assures. "I was thinking the same thing."

"Me, too," Sam says. "It's not fair that he's getting ostracized just because he's dead."

Ida wiggles her half-full food cup. "Maybe if folks see us feeding him, they'll realize he's not so bad."

We agree and head straight for our new undead friend. A bunch of goats see us coming and gather to shove their heads in front of one another. It's impossible to get to our target with all those living goats pushing each other out of the way to get to the offered food pellets.

And, Bucko seems to be holding back. He wants the food, but he isn't willing to fight for it.

An idea hits. I tell Sam, Tucker, and Ida to lure all the goats to another part of the pen. They don't know what I'm up to, but they can tell I have a plan, so they do as they're told.

All it takes is a few shakes of their food cups to get the crowd to follow them along the fence.

"Hey, Bucko!" I call to the green goat who is following the his living friends.

Bucko stops and turns toward me. Animal ghosts can understand human speech, so I knew he'd respond.

I check that no one is watching. Then I let just enough power run through me that my eyes flash with a green color not unlike Bucko's fur.

Bucko bleats in excitement and makes a beeline for me. He hops on to the bottom bar and jabs his head at me so hard, I nearly fall backwards.

"Easy, easy," I giggle.

I take a few pellets out of my cup and hold out my hand. Bucko surprises me by not chowing down the way the living goats are.

"Go on," I encourage.

Bucko looks at the food, looks at the group of goats at the other side of the pen, looks at the food again, then bleats at me.

"You…don't want it?"

"Baahhh." He leans down to nudge the cup with his nose then glances back at the others. "Baahhh."

It clicks. "You want me to save it for the goats who do need to eat?"

Another "baahh" is my answer, but Bucko seems satisfied.

That's really sweet of him, but I'm a little confused. "Why are you running up to everyone then?" I ask as I put the pellets back in the cup.

Bucko nuzzles my hand and tilts his head at me. I give his chin a scratch, and he leans into the touch.

A warm smile pulls at my lips. "I get it. You don't want food. You just want attention."

"I hope you don't plan on hogging him."

I jump at Ida's voice. Bucko lowers his head, phasing his neck through the fence, so Ida can pet him.

Sam and Tucker are still at the other end of the pen. Ida follows my gaze and answers my unspoken question. "Those two found a pregnant goat. They'll be here once she gets her fill."

Even from a distance, I can see them trying to weave around the heads bobbing to and fro. "Might take them a while."

Ida laughs then turns to the ghost she's petting. "Your friends are merciless, Bucko!"

"Baahhh," says Bucko.

While Ida scratches Bucko's head, I rub his neck, phasing my hand through the fence to do so. If anyone notices, I'll blame it on the goat-ghost.

"You know," Ida whispers, "you two are a lot stronger than I am."

"How so?" I ask just as quietly.

Ida shakes her head with a humorless smile. "Watching the world turn around you, watching people you love grow old and move on while you stay the same. I don't know how you ghosts do that."

Shit. I had actually managed to put the…situation…out of my mind for a few minutes. I focus on petting Bucko, who sends me a look that says he's never thought about that.

"We just…do, I guess," I say as if my heart isn't breaking all over again.

Ida takes a break from petting Bucko and says with a pensive look, "Don't take this the wrong way, but I hope I don't end up as a ghost. I'd rather find out what the alternative is."

My insides curdle. "Don't you wanna stay with everyone?"

"Of course, I do. But, not if it means losing the ones I love. I'm sure you make a lot of new friends, but I just don't think I could go through that." She pats me on the back and pats Bucko on the cheek. "I applaud you two for being willing to do that. It can't be easy."

She thinks it's a choice.

Tears pool in my eyes. I wipe them away while Ida's not looking.

I understand why she doesn't want to stick around. No one wants to stay stagnant while their loved ones wither away before their eyes.

Some of us are forced to do it anyway.

On the way home, we stop at an overpriced burger joint that has vegan options for lunch. Based on everyone's reactions, I'm sure the food's amazing, but it tastes like cardboard in my mouth. I eat every bite so no one suspects anything.

The rest of the day is pretty chill. We watch more movies. We play board games. Ida tells us stories from her very colorful past. For dinner, Sam thaws out some leftover meatloaf that had been in the freezer. My and Tucker's jaws drop when we witness Samantha Mansion eating meatloaf. Our jaws practically fall off our faces when Ida reveals that her recipe does not include meat.

"But, this tastes like beef!" Tucker exclaims while I experimentally poke the slice on my plate with my fork. When Sam and Ida exchange looks and snigger at each other, Tucker dramatically proclaims, "Traitors! I thought you loved me!"

He still eats it, albeit reluctantly. I clean my plate as well, though each bite goes down like a stone.

When Ida has an hour remaining, she claims that she's ready for bed.

"You sure you can't stay up a little longer?" I ask in what I hope is a nonchalant way.

Ida sends me a sweet look that I try to hold on to. "You know how old I am."

Only I catch the hidden meaning.

Sam helps Ida off the couch and on to her scooter. "Kids," Ida says to us, "thanks for making an old woman feel young."

My pulse is racing. There's a roaring in my ears. I feel nauseous.

Tucker sends Ida a finger gun. "Don't thank us yet, Ida. We've still got three whole days of fun ahead of us!"

No, we don't.

Ida gives us that smile again. "Goodnight, kids." Goodbye, kids.

"'Night, Ida," Tucker says.

I fight to keep my voice steady. "Goodnight, Ida." Goodbye, Ida.

Sam brings Ida to bed. These are the last moments that Sam will ever spend with her grandmother. I should tell her, but I can't deny Ida her last wish.

I hope she enjoyed today.

"All good, dude?" Tucker asks. "You're making a weird face."

"You're the one with the weird face," I retort.

Tucker sees right through me. "You know you can talk to me, right? Sam, too."

My smile has never felt more fake. "I know."

When Sam gets back, she is wearing a gold Star of David necklace over her dark gray nightgown. She has a proud grin on her face as she takes it off to show it to us. "Check out what Grandma just gave me. She said it was her mom's!"

"Really?" I say. I hope it sounds more like a whoa that's cool "really" and less like an are you kidding me? "really."

"Nice," Tucker praises, letting the little charm rest in his hand.

Sam puts the necklace back on. "She said it was gonna be my graduation gift, but she didn't wanna wait any longer!"

As if I wasn't already on the brink.

Time slows to a crawl as my friends and I talk about nothing of importance and I try to act interested. I don't need to look at the clock. Instinct counts down the seconds for me.

39 minutes, 52 seconds.

22 minutes, 9 seconds.

My core pulsates harder and harder the closer we get to the end. I'll have to make some excuse to leave so I can help Ida…pass on. I hope Reaper's right, and I will know what to do instinctively.

Eventually, Sam slaps her hands on her knees. "Okay, Danny. Something's on your mind."

"Yeah, man," Tucker says. "Spill. You've been off since Ida went to bed."

My chin trembles. A tear falls down my cheek.

Ten minutes on the dot. I can't take it anymore.

"It's…my…" Deep breath in, deep breath out. I need to do this now. "My death sensing power…"

Their faces drain of color. Tucker rapidly shakes his head. "No. No no no, don't do this to me. We are too young! We can't even vote or drink wine yet!"

"One of us can," Sam says shakily.

Tucker starts to say something to her then cuts himself off. He turns back to me with a scared, hollow expression and points in the direction of Ida's bedroom. I press my lips together to minimize the trembling and nod.

"You mean…" Sam swallows. "You mean tomorrow night…"

I shake my head. I don't know how to explain, but I need to figure it out fast.

There's a shift in Sam's tone. "Danny, how long does Grandma have?"

I sniffle and fist my hands in my pajama pants. "Eight minutes and counting."

Silence. I can't look at anyone until Sam sputters, "You- You- Son of a- Argh! Grandma!"

I have never seen Sam move so fast.

Tucker watches her bolt out of the room then turns an accusing look on me. "You said your death powers activated at the twenty-four hour mark!"

"I'm sorry," I choke out. It's the only thing I'm able to say.

Tucker shakes his head, utterly pissed and disappointed. "Dude."

He takes off after Sam. I swipe at my watery eyes and go ghost before following.

I can't screw this up.

When I phase into Ida's room, it's as bad as I expected. Ida is under the covers and snoring away like everything is totally normal. Sam has crawled into bed beside her and is crying softly with her arm around her grandmother. Tucker is knelt down on the other side of the bed, holding Ida's hand and sniffling and blinking back tears.

I'm paralyzed as Ida Manson's internal clock ticks away.

Every now and then, Sam asks how much longer it will be.

5 minutes, 6 seconds. I walk on heavy legs to the foot of Ida's bed.

4 minutes, 12 seconds. Her snores get quieter.

3 minutes, 49 seconds. Tucker lets out his first sob.

At the two minute mark, my tears start rolling.

At one minute, we fall silent.

At zero, so does Ida.

Sam bursts into tears, holding her grandmother tighter and bawling into her frilly light purple nightgown. Tucker brings Ida's hand to his forehead, and his tears fall on the bed.

My sobs are cut short when a small sphere of silvery white light, about the size of a baseball, rises up from Ida's chest. I jump back when it zooms toward me. It stops in front of me as if curious.

Ida's soul.

"Guys," I breathe out. A little louder, "Guys, look!"

Tucker looks at me and chokes out, "Look at what?"

I switch my gaze from him to the soul then back again. "You can't see it?"

Of course he can't, I realize. He's not an angel.

I return my attention to Ida's soul, and I find that Reaper was right. I do know what to do.

I cup the soul in my shaking hands. It feels like nothing and everything and somehow that makes sense. It's okay, I tell Ida without speaking. You're safe with me.

Ida's soul- Ida seems to understand. She floats closer, tentative. I gently guide her to my chest, to where my core is waiting, its steady pulsations eager and impatient.

I feel the exact moment Ida connects with my core. It is a starburst that starts in my chest and sends sparks over my being. Images flash through my mind, filled with people I've never seen, but I know instantly who they are.

Ida's older brother and younger sister as children pulling her into the mud while they all laugh hysterically.

A man with kind violet eyes and blond hair dropping to one knee and pulling out a diamond ring.

Ida's son handing her a newborn baby swaddled in a pink blanket.

Wrinkly hands helping that baby, now a thirteen-year-old young woman, dye her blond hair black.

So many happy memories. I don't want them to stop, but I don't mind so much when they do.

Because I know that wherever Ida went, she is safe.

I don't know how long I've been standing here, but my friends have left Ida's bedside. Sam pulls a file out of Ida's desk drawer and explains in a monotone, "Grandma left instructions in case…in case…this sort of thing happened. I…" She glances at her grandmother's…body…and her chin quivers. "I don't wanna come back for them later."

Tucker had been standing beside her and now pulls his arm around her and leads her to the door.

"I-I did the-the angel thing," I say lamely. I point upward. "The…passing on thing. I-I did that. If that helps."

Sam doesn't look at me. She just grunts and clutches the file to her chest. Tucker barely spares me a glance.

They're mad at me and for good reason.

We leave the room, and I start my explanation the moment I close the door behind me.

I'm interrupted by Sam backhanding me in the face. Since I'm in ghost-form, it doesn't hurt that much, but it startles me enough that I stumble back against the door.

Sam's eyes are wet and blazing. "You knew! You knew this was coming! And, you didn't say a word!"

"Sam, listen-"

She backhands me again.

Tucker grabs her wrist. "Let the man talk!"

Sam wrenches herself free and whirls on him. "He had the whole damn day to talk!"

"It's okay, Tuck," I say to the floor.

Let Sam hit me. Let her rip me apart, molecule by molecule. I'm too broken to care.

Because Ida is only the first. Everyone, including these two wonderful people before me, will be gone one day.

And, I'll still be here.

"Get out." Sam growls. "Get out of my house, Danny Phantom!"

Tucker calls to her, but she's already barreling down the hall.