Ghost of a Chance

His Volkswagen Jetta rolled over three times before lodging itself into the trunk of a rotting oak tree. Mike Braddock climbed out through the broken windshield and ran from the car before it had the chance to blow up. About 100 feet away, he stopped and brushed broken bits of glass from his Carolina Hurricanes sweatshirt. There was a nasty tear in the left sleeve but no blood anywhere. He seemed to have made it out okay.

He looked around the embankment but could see no one rushing to his rescue. What was left of the car didn't blow. It just sat there. There were no blaring sirens or flashing lights. In the movies, there would have been paramedics, police cars, and a crowd of onlookers. Here in the valley of the shadow of the interstate at three o'clock in the morning, there was only silence.

Mike surveyed the landscape for the best route back up the hill, finding none, he decided it would probably be best to go back the way he had come since his car had provided a bit of a clearing, What had taken the hurling Jetta only seconds to navigate, was more than difficult on foot. Halfway up the rocky hill, he sat down on a tree stump to catch his breath.

"Are you okay?"

Mike jumped. He turned around to see a young blonde woman standing behind him. She appeared to be in her early twenties. Moonlight glinted off of her fair skin giving her an almost eerie glow.

"Where did you come from?" He asked her. "Did you call for help?"

"They're coming."

Mike released a long breath of air. "Thanks. I guess I'm fine. No bumps or bruises to speak of," he said while examining himself again.

As she sat down next to him, a musky lavender scent wafted through the cool night air. "What are you doing out here all alone?" He asked.

"I live here." She said.

"You live in the woods?"

"Over there." She pointed behind them into a maze of trees.

Mike scanned the area but didn't see any signs of civilization. He turned to face her. "You got a house out there?" He noted her tight jeans and t-shirt that said, I'm cute, across her ample chest. Mike usually hated those sappy sayings but on her it was perfect. She was cute, and she looked familiar. "Do I know you from somewhere?"

"Maybe. I don't know." She shrugged her shoulders but offered no reference to where he might know her from.

"I'm from Murray. I was coming from a party in Flankwood when this happened." Mike pointed toward the tree-car. "I don't even know how it happened." He said.

"You were speeding..." She said. "and quite drunk." A raccoon crossing the interstate spooked you and you turned off into the trees. Your car flipped three times before you crashed into that old oak tree."

Incredulous, Mike stretched his neck trying to see the interstate from where he was sitting and then turned to look at his car. "How did you see all of that from down here?"

She smiled and shrugged her shoulders again. "I don't know. Point of view, I guess."

"Did they give you an ETA?"

"What?"

"Did they say how long it would take them to get here with a tow truck?"

"Who?"

"The emergency people..." Her blank stare caused him to add, "when you called. Did they say how long it would be for them to get here?"

"I didn't call anyone."

"But you said you..."

"I said they were coming." She interrupted. "They always come sooner or later."

Mike jumped to his feet. "I don't believe this. Why didn't you call? What's wrong with you? Oh just forget about it. I'll go get help myself." He started back up the embankment.

He made it a few feet before she yelled after him. "You really should stay with your car."

Mike stopped short and turned around. "Now, why would I do that? No one is going to see me down there. I need to be where people can see me so I can get some help... some real help, from sane people who don't live in trees!"

"It'll be easier for them to take you if you stay where you landed." She said.

"Easier for who to take me? What the hell are you talking about? I need a ride home and a tow truck."

"Them." She said. "The ones who come and take you. It's just easier if you stay with your..."

"Look, I don't know who you are, or why you're wasting my time but my car is shot. I don't need to stay with my car. I need to get back up this hill to the road where I can get some help."

"...body." She finished.

"You need to stay with your body." She said. "That's how it works. You stay with your body until it's taken care of. After that, I don't know what happens."

"Are you telling me that I'm... You want me to believe... what? That I died?"

She nodded her head and said, "I'm sorry."

"Get the hell out of here. Please. What do you take me for anyway? If I were dead, I think I'd know it. I suppose you want me to believe that you're dead too?"

"I know how you feel." She said. "It took me a long time to figure it out myself. I mean it's not something you want to believe and I wasn't lucky enough to have someone there to point out the obvious for me but, it is true. Go ahead and look in your car if you don't believe me."

"So you're telling me I'm a ghost." Mike scratched his head. "No. You see, I just scratched my head and I felt it." He ran his fingers through his hair. "See, I can feel my hair too. You're just some crazy bitch that's screwing with my head. I'm getting out of here." He started to leave again.

She followed. "I think we can feel certain things because we remember how they felt not because we are actually feeling them. Try touching me."

Mike stopped walking and turned to face her. ""I don't think you want me to touch you right now. Not when I'm this pissed off. If I were to touch you right now I can guarantee it would hurt."

"Go ahead. Hit me if you want. Try it." She coaxed. "Neither of us will feel anything because we've never touched each other before. We have no memory of it so we won't feel it."

Curious, but not really wanting to hurt her, Mike reached for her hair. His hand fell right through without even mussing it. In fact, he'd felt nothing, no sensation at all. He touched his own hair again and felt the grainy ripples that had always been there. His mother had called them girly curls when he was a child. He reached out to stroke her face but again felt nothing. He closed his eyes and stood there motionless contemplating what this all meant.

When he opened his eyes again, she was gone. He yelled out, "Where'd you go? I have more questions."

"I'm right over here." She responded.

Mike saw her sitting on the stump they'd shared earlier. He went over and sat next to her. He had so many questions but wasn't in the mood to ask them of her. They sat quietly together, him thinking of his family and friends and what this would do to them, how they would pay for a funeral with his dad out of work, realizing only now how stupid and selfish he'd been in his life. She waited patiently for him to accept his fate. After a little while, he began to laugh.

"What's so funny?" She hadn't expected this type of a reaction from him.

"This. This is just too funny. I'm Catholic. My mom saw to that. All those years of religious training and for what? He laughed even louder, nearly tumbling from his seat. "Wait until my mother gets a load of this. Boy was she ever wrong. All that talk, and fear of meeting your maker and who do I meet - some chick in tight jeans with a slogan on her chest proclaiming how cute she is. By the way, you aren't God are you?"

"No. I'm not God and I'm glad you're taking this so well. Not everyone does."

"You've been through this before?"

"Lots of times. When you live beside a busy interstate it happens more often than you'd think."

"Wait a minute. You said someone would be coming for me - that they always come sooner or later..."

She stared at her feet and said, "With all of the others, when their bodies were taken away, their being's left with them. I don't know what happens after that. I haven't gotten that far. Maybe that's when religion comes into play. Maybe that's what all the funeral stuff is all about. I wasn't religious in life so I don't know anything about it but I'm hoping that after I get a proper burial my soul, or whatever this is called will go on to a better place."

"You didn't really answer my question."

"They haven't found my body yet." The corners of her mouth sagged. "He did a good job of hiding me."

"Who did?"

"My boyfriend. Hector. In a way it's good. I don't think I'd be so cute anymore. And if I had to keep looking at myself like that..." She shivered. "I don't even want to think about it."

"Your boyfriend killed you? And then buried you here?" Mike stared at her. "That's why you look so familiar!. I saw your photo on the news a while back. You're the missing girl they were looking for. Wait a minute, let me think. Katie, right? Katie Saunder something."

"You mean I'm famous?" She smiled. "By the way, it's Katie Sanderson. Glad to meet you." She put out her hand for him to shake.

He reached for it and almost fell off the tree stump when his own hand met no resistance. "No touch is a hard one to get used to." He righted his posture and said, "I thought you were cute, that's why I remembered you. Man. They ran your story twenty-four-seven for weeks. Your face was all over the place. After a while it got sickening. I mean, it was so obvious that you were dead." Mike realized his mistake as soon as it left his mouth. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"It's okay. Do you know if they caught Hector?"

"Ah, no. I mean. I don't know. I lost track of it after a while. But if they didn't know you were dead, there probably wasn't any reason to catch him, was there? Sorry."

"Stop saying you're sorry. You didn't kill me. He did. Besides, there isn't anything I can do about it now anyway."

"If it makes you feel any better, your mom was devastated. How many years ago was that?"

"I don't know. It was May 5th of 2005. I remember because we were coming from a friend's birthday party. He'd gotten jealous. He was always getting jealous and he ended up choking me a little too tight that time, I guess."

"What a bastard. Wow, that was more than 5 years ago. I remember your mom said it had to be foul play but in the end, I guess they just stopped looking."

"Time flies" She smiled.

"What have you been doing to pass the time all these years?"

"I think, and I get lonely, and then I think some more. Oh, and I meet dead people that fly off the interstate into the trees and help them cope with their demise. It's fun... in a funny way it's kind of like being the grim reaper. It breaks up the loneliness from time to time, anyway."

Mike grinned. "You're too pretty to be the grim reaper."

Katie blushed.

"I wish I could help you get out of here. There's got to be something we can do."

"Hey, you're still here yourself. You can't even get yourself out of here. How do you propose you'd help me?"

"They'll see my old Jetta, eventually." Mike stared off into the trees. "I don't think they're even looking for you anymore."

"I'm sure they aren't."

Mike jumped up. "What if we dig you up?"

"Don't you think I tried that already? Sheesh. I've been here a long time you know. I've tried just about everything twice. It's no good. I can't move the dirt."

"You said we could only feel what we remember, right? Well... guess what doll, you're looking at a landscaper. I mean, I was a landscaper before. Anyway, these hands have been in dirt for years, if anyone can do it, I should be able to. Let's give it a try."

Katie twisted her mouth up into a bow. "I don't know."

"Have you got something better to do?" Mike chided. "Where did he bury you?"

"Not too far from your car." Excited now, Katie jumped up and ran past Mike yelling, "Over this way. Follow me!"

Mike tried not to look into his car as he passed close by but couldn't help noticing the slumping figure at the steering wheel.

He caught up to her and kneeled down. "Okay, let's see if this works." He cupped his right hand and tried forcing it into the dank ground. He couldn't feel anything. His hand went through as if the earth didn't exist. He tried scraping at it but no luck.

"I knew it." Katie cried. "Thanks for trying anyway,"

"I'm not giving up just yet young lady. I know what dirt feels like. I know I do and I'm going to un-bury you if it's the last thing I do."

They both started to laugh then Katie said, "I hate to be the one to remind you but the last thing you did was get drunk and run yourself into a tree."

When their laughter subsided, Mike closed his eyes tight and began opening and closing his fingers. Dropping to the ground, he laid himself across Katie's makeshift grave site.

"What the heck are you doing?" Katie asked.

"Shh, I need to concentrate." He said and then started rolling back and forth on the damp ground, opening and closing his legs, spreading his arms out, while twisting and turning.

"You know you need snow to make a snow angel, don't you?" Katie said through a giggle. "By the way, that's one of the good things about being dead, you won't feel the cold anymore."

"Be quiet! I'm trying to make my body remember."

"Is it working?"

"I don't know yet. I need you to be quiet." Mike got back up on his knees and began clawing at the earth again. As his hands were slipping through it he remembered how it used to feel when it got stuck beneath his fingernails, on his skin, how it felt in his hands. He imagined he was digging it up. He remembered the way it smelled when it was freshly dug, how it clung together when it was wet, how it slid through his fingers when it was dry and sandy. He tried to remember how it felt when it was real and finally... it moved... just a tiny bit, a few grains or so but damn it, it moved.

"You've got it!" Katie shouted. "Keep doing it!"

He imagined himself wallowing in the mud like a pig, what it might feel like to be buried in it. As he remembered, he continued to scratch at the ground and the soil continued to move. A small hole was forming in the surface. "Are you sure this is where you were buried?" He asked. "I'd hate to be wasting all this energy in the wrong spot."

Katie put her hands on her hips and gave him a hard stare. "Don't you think I know where I am?"

He continued to claw at it for what must have been hours, or even days, who knew, moving tiny bits and pieces until...

"My hand! That's my hand! You did it!!" Katie jumped up and down and then rushed at Mike so hard that she went flying five feet before being able to stop herself. "I wanted to kiss you." She laughed.

"That's okay. I could see by your effort that it would have been a good one."

The two of them laughed and danced around her hand until the sound of a distant siren made them stop.

The sound grew louder for a while, and then softer, and then it was gone. We'll catch the next one." Mike said, a bit relieved. He was enjoying her company and in no hurry to see what the future held.

Afterwards, they stayed together talking and sharing secrets. Mike noticed the sun rising and setting but time was something he no longer had an issue with and so didn't really know how long it was before the man with the weak bladder stopped on the side of the interstate to relieve himself. The poor guy spotted Mike in his car, midstream, and ran screaming for help.

It was the hired tow truck driver who saw Katie's skeletal hand waving hello from the mound of dirt Mike had dug while he was surveying the Jetta's situation.

The evening news anchor took great joy in reporting the incompetence of the search and rescue mission that failed to find Katie's body some years earlier, crediting the drunken Mike Braddock with solving the case.

Katie's mother publicly thanked the young man who in losing his life had helped her move on with her own. "Not knowing what really happened to my Katie was the worst of it," Mrs Sanderson was quoted repeatedly over the next few days. To show her true gratitude she insisted on paying for Mike's funeral and had him buried in a plot adjacent to her daughter's telling everyone who would listen, "Something told me it was what Katie would have wanted."