Chasing Ghosts

Written Jan ’11

The phone next to the bed shrilly rang.   I rolled across the empty bed and grabbed the phone before it knocked itself off the small table with the enthusiasm of its ring..  “Donovans.”  The clock glowed 2:57 in large red numerals on the far side of the room.

“Are you okay?”

“Ethan?” He didn’t call in the middle of the night. He didn’t call from work.“What’s wrong?”

“There was a 911 call placed due to a hate rally.” He was definitely at work. A man was laughing in the background.

“Hang on a sec.”  I left the phone on the table and crossed to the window.  When I raised the ancient sash, the problem was immediately apparent.  Amid wisps of fog, Gramps was running around the field swinging his old rifle.

“Take that, you damned bastard, and hurry to hell where you belong!”  He hollered as he lit into a wisp of fog. His white bathrobe and electrocution hairstyle were ghost-like amid his insubstantial antagonists.

“Shit.  Gramps is seeing things.  I’ll get out there.”

“Jerry should be there in a minute.  Put some clothes on.”

“Much love and see you in the morning.”  I hung up, yanked yesterday’s  sun dress over  head, grabbed the hatchet next to the fireplace, and pounded down the stairs and out the front door while still zipping the dress.  Gramps had tripped the motion detectors on the edge of the house. Floodlights lit the driveway.

A truck with it’s running lights on was flying up the road.

“Gramps!  It’s Deidre!  The cops are about to arrive!  It’s just fog!  It was just a nightmare!” It wasn’t a nightmare, but another mini-stroke. Gramps was having the TIAs more often since his meeting God heart attack last summer.

“Deidre!  Are you okay?  Go get my gun!”  Gramps started attacking one of the lilacs.

“Gramps, I’m in the driveway.  Stop swinging the rifle and come over here!  Matter would be livid!”

The car skidded to a stop. The engine was left to idle. “This is the police!  Hands in the air!” It was Jerry Paige, he was one of the three volunteer cops in town and the youngest by thirty years.  He was the year ahead of me in school. My sister had dated his father.

I took the final step forwards into the light,  leaned the axe against my leg and raised my hands. Jerry meant well, I’m sure, but maybe liked some rules a little much. “Jerry, Gramps is seeing things!” I shouted over.

“Deidre, couldn’t you stop him before calling?” Jerry rubbed at his eyes. He was sleepy, whiny, and not inclined to paperwork.

“He’d already called when I woke up.” I knew better than to reveal Ethan’s worried call. It would only antagonize Jerry and Gramps.  “Gramps, will you stop attacking the lilac and  come over here?”

Gramps tramped into the glow of the porch lights. He looked a sight. His full head of white hair stuck up every which way, but mostly straight up, and the white bathrobe Matter bought for summer was flapping around. One sleeve was blackened from him cooking breakfast, and there was an iron mark from his last attempt to iron. He was barefoot and holding the rifle by middle.
Jerry had his notebook and badge out. “Mr. Donovan, would you care to provide a statement?”

I glared at Gramps. He had better not turn this into an all night thing.

He got the hint. “No thanks, sonny.  I guess when I saw the fog I thought the worst.”

Jerry ducked Gramps’ attempted shoulder pounding. “Alright.  Is that gun loaded? It should be locked up.”

“Can’t be.” I snapped. I wasn’t that dense..  “Gramps removed the mechanism permanently in ‘47.” Gramps’ guns were in an appropriate safe. He didn’t have the combination.

“Okay.” Jerry nodded enthusiastically and then realized. “What?”

“It’s no use but decoration.  A souvenir Gramps brought back.”

“I see.” Jerry obviously didn’t see, or realize the true use of the decoration was as a club. Gramps had been applying the intended use when attacking the lilacs.

“Well, sonny, would you like some coffee?” Gramps thankfully was getting it together to get rid of Jerry. Gramps’ coffee was a cause for alarm. He made cowboy coffee the bad way. It was bitter, tarry, and over sugared. It was good for scaring off company.

“No thanks, I want to get back to sleep.”  Jerry fled to his car. He’d been subjected to the coffee.