1: The Misinformed Women, Part Two

The next morning, Andrew found himself sitting on a bench on the edge of the large, circular pond around which CSU Cierto was built. It was one of those rare days on which Andrew could see himself clearly reflected in the water. Today, that reflection looked lost and tired. As he stared at himself, memories of monthly rates he could not hope to pay jumped to the forefront of his mind. He could work a second job, Curtis had proposed, but he thought drowning himself in the pond sounded more alluring. Steven suggested he take out a small loan, but that was even less tempting. He could just drop out of school - what did he really need it for? He hadn’t even chosen a major yet. He could just keep working his awful job and never be happy and die alone or live in the streets or in a car which he didn’t even have or or or

How could Steven do this to him?!

Andrew took a calming breath in attempt to imitate Steven’s technique, only to find his breath shaky and nearly choke. He was crying, like an idiot. Fumbling, he reached for his phone and went straight to his contacts, highlighting “Dad.” He called him.

Ringing…

He could go live with them. He didn’t need college.

Ringing…

Or he could just continue college in New York. He could even work for his dad. It could be great.

Ringing…

But that’d just prove him right.

Ringing…

He could just ask for money instead. Just a few months’ worth.

“Hello?”

No.

“Sorry dad, wrong number.”

Click.

Back to his contacts, he highlighted Katelyn’s name, staring at it for what felt like a long time. At least she could offer somewhere to stay for a bit that wasn’t filled with people he was furious at. Just as he was about to call her, Andrew glanced at his reflection in the pool to see that he was no longer alone. There was a man sitting next to him on the bench. He was Korean, a bit portly, and rather scholarly looking - if not for his extremely casual dress, Andrew would have pegged him for a professor. He, too, was looking into the reflection in the pond, with a look of concern on his face.

“You alright there, son?”

“No. Can’t say I am,” Andrew said curtly. He sighed. “Sorry. Today’s just not a good day.”

The man nodded, as if he understood exactly what Andrew was going through. “I know how that goes, kid. Life’s full of ‘em. Bad days. But we make do. Is there anything an old stranger can do to help?”

He shook his head. “Unless you can find me the most affordable apartment in the world, it’s unlikely. Thank you, though.”

“Well, have you checked the bulletin board in the student lounge? Never know who’s looking for a roommate.”

Andrew turned his head towards the sky and started laughing loudly like an idiot. Roommates! How had he not thought of that sooner? There was always some request or another on that board; of course he would find something there! After some time reveling in his own absurdity, he turned to thank the man beside him, but found that he was sitting on the bench alone. He must have scared him off by laughing like a crazy person.

***

CSU Cierto’s student lounge was something of a misnomer because it contained only trace amounts of student and even less lounging. What used to be a room of many couches and TVs had been reduced to one TV and a few tables after faculty members made a fuss about what some of the couches were often used for after-hours. Following the change, “Bulletin Board Room” would have been a more fitting name, as the rather large cork-board was the only reason anybody stopped by anymore.

Searching the board for anything about apartments or roommates proved to be a challenge due to the sheer mass of postings that built up over the course of each semester. With only one week of classes left, it was hitting critical mass. There were plenty of job listings, tutor requests, missing-animal posters, and several copies of a newspaper article that caught Andrew’s eye due to the word “apartment” in the headline. Unfortunately, these turned out to be something about a double homicide being committed in an apartment, which was both very grim and not at all what he was looking for.

But after several minutes of scouring, he did find what he was looking for in the form of a post-it that was barely visible behind a paper that promised sexual favors in return for doing somebody’s Pre-Calculus homework. The small advertisement was so completely perfect that Andrew honestly had trouble believing it was real. It read:

SEEKING ROOMMATE IN UNIVERSITY APARTMENTS #28

Female looking for roommate of any gender.

Interview any day between 10:30 and 12:30

Deadline Friday, December 13th

Rent is low, negotiable

Low rent? Across the street? A girl?! Andrew was nearly shaking with excitement as he read the note again and again. He was a bit doubtful because of the lack of phone number, but that wasn’t going to stop him from investigating further. Andrew checked his phone: 30 minutes before the deadline. Again he could hardly believe his luck. If it had been any other apartment, there would have been no way for him to make it on time, but the University Apartments were directly across the street from the school. Not wanting to take any chances, however, Andrew ran out of the student lounge, post-it in hand, to the apartment building across the street, drawing many strange looks as he went.

The University Apartments were far from impressive. The building was a long, beige rectangle with three floors, each consisting of ten outwardly identical apartments. The only area of diversity and interest was the door with police tape drawn across it. Standing outside that apartment was a haggard middle-aged woman with short, lifeless blonde hair. Her pale blue eyes scanned Andrew judgmentally as he approached her. “Can I help you?” she asked.

Ignoring her tone, Andrew glanced over at the tape. “What happened there?” he asked.

The woman frowned. “Do you live under a rock?” she snapped. “I caught some kind of murderer in the act yesterday. The police think he was some kinda serial killer.” Andrew nodded, but the woman didn’t really seem to know what she was talking about. “Is that all you came for? To breathe my air and ask me questions you could just read in the newspaper? Just like your kind, always asking the worst questions.”

“I’m looking for apartment 28,” Andrew said. “Would you happen to know where that is?”

She scoffed. “And you don’t even know who you’re talking to! No respect!” she exclaimed. “I’m Andrea Smalls, the landlady of this here shit hole, so of course I know which is apartment 28.” She gestured to the stairs to the left of the door with the tape on it. “Right up there. Right above this one. What business you got with that apartment?”

“Visiting a friend,” Andrew lied. “Thanks for your help!” He made his way towards the stairs before she had the chance to say anything else.

As Andrea had said, apartment 28 was directly to the right of the staircase, identical to all of its neighbors save for the number on the door. Andrew checked his phone to confirm that he still had time left, took a breath, and knocked on the door. “Come on in,” an androgynous voice immediately called from inside.

The apartment was small, but he wasn’t looking for anything extravagant - he was just looking for anything. Along the living-room’s right wall was a couch and bookshelf, across from which was a TV that looked nearly a decade old. Next to that was a rather expensive-looking PC on an old and worn desk, with a mess of wires connecting it to the television. Near the end of the wall was opening to what looked to be a kitchen, based on the tile floor. On the back wall were two doors, one of which led to an open bathroom and the other of which was closed - presumably the bedroom.

“Be out in a minute!” the voice called again. “Feel free to look around or use the bathroom or whatever.”

As Andrew looked around, one thing that caught his eye was a set of pictures along the right wall, above the bookshelf and not too far from the bathroom. They seemed to be pictures of friends and family members, but from what he could tell, the apartment’s occupant wasn’t in any of them; the only woman in the pictures was at least in her late thirties. A ginger young man appeared quite a few times. “Her boyfriend,” Andrew assumed disappointedly.

He was distracted from this thought by a flicker of movement in his periphery. In that bathroom mirror, he saw a girl walking just behind him and into the kitchen. She looked really young to be going to college or living on her own. As Andrew turned to follow after her, he walked straight into a young man that was walking out of the bedroom.

“Hey!” he said in surprise. Andrew immediately recognized him as the guy from the picture. The boyfriend. He was very tall and skinny, and he was wearing a polo shirt and jeans. “Sorry I took so long.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Andrew insisted. “Sorry if I, uh, interrupted you two or anything.”

The man gave him a weird look. “Two? Nope, just me here,” he said, laughing awkwardly.

Andrew tried to glance past him into the kitchen. It was empty. “I, uh, I thought the advertisement said that a girl lived here?”

“Oh, right,” he said. “That was in hopes of attracting more people. After the suicide and the murders I didn’t think anybody was going to respond so I altered the ad. And hey, it seemed to work on you.”

For a moment, Andrew just stared at him, not sure how to respond. He felt a little betrayed, but at the same time, an apartment was an apartment. So he focused on something else. “Did you say something about death?”

“Sure. About two weeks ago the former tenant was found having hung himself in an electronic store bathroom after buying $300 worth of wiring and one of those little dogs that you can plug your iPod into,” he said, glancing past Andrew to a clock on his computer desk. His speech quickened. “And I’m sure you’ve heard about Roger Jenkins, the guy from the apartment below here, he’s all over the news.

“So basically, nobody wants to move here, and I don’t exactly have the money to keep paying for this place because I quit my job, but my parents can’t know that, so I lied to Smalls, the landlady, and said I was afraid to live here, and she offered to let me live here on the cheap if I stayed, and that helped, but it still wasn’t enough, so that’s where you come in, if you want it. $250 a month.”

“What? That’s it?” Andrew asked, dumbfounded. “That’s the whole interview process? And that cheap?”

“Yes and yes. I’m an agreeable guy, and you don’t seem that crazy, and you responded to it first,” he said, stepping towards the door. “Anyways I’ve got class to be at. I’m Eugene, by the way.” “I’m Andrew-” “If you want it, it’s yours. Move your stuff in or whatever. I’ll be back from classes at 4:30.” He was already halfway out the door.

“Wait! Shouldn’t I wait for you to come back before I place my stuff or-”

“Whatever,” Eugene said, and he was gone.

Andrew just stood in the midst of Eugene’s apartment - his apartment - dumbfounded. Was that really it? Could it have been that easy? He supposed it was. Suddenly everything he was ever told about how hard being an adult was felt like a lie, which was neat. He called Katelyn to explain everything that had happened over the last day. She was just as incredulous as he was, but she was between classes so they couldn’t talk long. He told her they’d talk later, and they agreed that they were still on for their movie marathon.

After that was done, he called Curtis.

“Hey, man!” Curtis greeted enthusiastically.

“Hi, Curtis,” Andrew said. “I already found a place to-”

“You’ve reached my voicemail! Leave me a message after the beep or tone or whatever, thanks!”

Andrew sighed and listened as the robotic, feminine voice told him how to leave a message. “Hey Curtis,” he began. “So in an insane turn of events I already have a new place, I think. I’ll be living in the University Apartments, number 28. Do you think Steven could use his truck to help me move some of my stuff? Get back to me soon! Th-” The voicemail cut off.

Satisfied and bewildered, Andrew went to class.

***

His Friday classes were uneventful other than receiving a text from Curtis in his lab, reading: “Steven has band practice all evening. Also, Steven is in a band now apparently! We’ll help out tomorrow. Congrats!” So it looked like Andrew would be sleeping on the couch that evening, which he didn’t really mind because he preferred that over the alternative of staying another night with Steven. Eugene seemed a little strange, but tolerable, at least.

By the time he was out at five thirty, the sun was already setting over the flat, uninteresting horizon, and darkness was falling over Cierto. Normally at this time, he and Katelyn would get together in the library and work on homework or study (more accurately, Katelyn would study and Andrew would annoy her), but Andrew figured he ought to get to know both his new home and roommate.

Apartment 28 was unlocked. Andrew wasn’t really sure what to make of what he saw inside, partially because it was dark as hell. Eugene was sitting at his computer, his face partially illuminated by the pale blue light emanating from the computer monitor. He was angled towards the TV, on which he was playing a video game that Andrew didn’t recognize. Something old.

“Alright, this bit is tricky,” Eugene was saying to an unseen third party. His voice was changed a bit, not quite like he was acting, but not quite like their exchange earlier. “You’ve gotta maneuver X just so or else you’ll fall into the - oh.” Eugene held a finger up towards Andrew to imply that he should be silent. Andrew started to ask a question but Eugene waved his hand sporadically and gestured toward the couch. “Dammit, there I go! Yeah, that health upgrade’s a bitch unless you have the buster upgrade first, so I’ll just come back to this later.”

Andrew did as he was asked, curiously trying to get a peek at the computer screen as he made his way towards the couch. The first thing he was able to ascertation was that Eugene was speaking into a microphone, which only served to confuse Andrew further. The computer was displaying the same footage as the TV screen, but with a little chat box to the right, where people seemed to be typing messages. Eugene glanced there out of the corner of his eyes every couple of seconds.

“And I’m out of lives,” Eugene announced. “Just in time, actually. Time for me to go. We’ll finish this up tomorrow or Sunday if I have time. Thanks for the questions, everyone; this was fun as always! This is Eugene, signing out.” He clicked some things on the computer and then wheeled around to face Andrew. “Sorry about that,” he said. “Should’ve warned you that I livestream Friday evenings.”

“Livestream? So like, you just play video games, and people watch? And…answer their questions?” Andrew asked.

“Something like that,” Eugene said. “You came in towards the end. Usually I’m funny and stuff. I also make short videos that I post on YouTube…you’ve never heard of Let’s Plays before?”

“I guess I have. I think a friend of mine likes to watch some. I’ve just never heard anyone really talk about them. Do people actually watch this?”

Eugene laughed. “Some people have millions watching their stuff. I get about fifty plus-or-minus twenty when I’m live, and maybe…eight-hundred to a thousand on my YouTube stuff.”

Andrew nodded, not really getting it. “It’s not that different from video blogs, I guess.”

“Something like that,” Eugene said. “So anyways, I know I’m being an awful new roommate, but I kind of have to go. I got invited to a party last-minute by this girl I like, so I’m gonna go to that. I will probably be drunk and tired when I come home. Don’t touch my bed, but feel free to use anything else. Thanks for responding to the ad by the way. There are pillows and stuff in my closet. Sorry again, bye!”

Andrew had half a mind to invite himself along to the party, but decided instead to use the opportunity to get started on his essay about Professor Wells’ ex-wife and her cat. For what felt like twenty minutes, Andrew just sat in the apartment, feeling alone and confused, before he finally convinced himself to get up and use the computer.

After staring at Microsoft Word’s blinking cursor for an indeterminate chunk of time, Andrew gave up and decided to surf the Internet instead, but even that felt weird. Like he was looking at a different Google than usual. He tried taking his laptop out of his backpack and using that instead. Seeing his Hogwarts wallpaper made him feel a bit more at home, but he still wasn’t able to make any progress on his essay. Eventually he gave up and searched through his backpack for anything else to do when he came across a manila envelope that he had forgotten about. Taped to it was a note written in handwriting that was at once sloppy and elegant; Andrew grinned when he read it:

“The contents of this envelope are literally more important to me than your life, which is pretty important to me. If you damage these in any way, you will flayed alive, and then we’ll both be upset.

- K”

Inside the envelope were several Superman comics, with Action Comics #1 on the top of the pile. Starting there, he immersed himself in the world of the Man of Steel, and things felt a little more comfortable. It was always hard for him to fall asleep in other people’s homes, but he hadn’t even made it halfway through the pile before drifting off to sleep on the couch.

He dreamed he was a Kryptonian like Superman, cast from his world onto a planet that was alien to him. He had to hide himself from everyone and simultaneously try to find out who he was, which was difficult. At some point in the dream, he was flying through a maze crafted by some villain to find a damsel who had been kidnapped and locked in a dungeon. He could hear her pounding on the door somewhere in the labyrinth but he couldn’t quite locate her, and even if he could, he wouldn’t be able to find his way out, but he couldn’t think about that. He just kept following the faint beating of a fist against a metal door in the slow, steady rhythm of a heartbeat. It was somewhere between a dink and a thud, then the tempo quickened, and suddenly it was just a thud. Andrew realized that he was awake and that the sound was coming from the kitchen. Eugene was home.

He checked his phone to see that it was about one in the morning. Groggily, he got up to join Eugene in the kitchen. As he shambled across the apartment, he saw that the door to Eugene’s room was open, and that he was sprawled drunkenly across his bed, still in the clothes he left the house in and drooling slightly. Confused, Andrew walked into the kitchen for what he realized was the first time. It was pretty plain, with a refrigerator and oven across from each other and a small counter with cabinets above it. On the counter by the oven was a microwave and on the other was a toaster. There was a small square table with three chairs.

One of the cupboards was open, revealing various snack foods, but other than that the kitchen appeared undisturbed. Shrugging, Andrew approached the cupboard and took a bag of Doritos from it. As he walked out of the kitchen, he heard the same sound as before. Turning to investigate, he found that the cupboard had closed. And then, as he left, it had opened again. He stared stupidly for a moment, assumed he was just tired, and went back to the couch. He ate the chips and then tried to go back to sleep.

Getting to sleep was much easier the second time, and within minutes he was taken by it. Then he was ripped from slumber by what sounded like a simultaneous explosion, gust of wind, and shattering of glass. Andrew was practically yanked upright, the echo roaring in his ears. He stumbled to his feet in a disoriented haze and looked about the darkened house to find that the window in the living room was in perfect condition. In something between a walk and a run Andrew clumsily made his way to the kitchen to find that, besides several open cupboards, that, too was seemingly untouched. It took a second for his mind to wake up enough to think of Eugene, at which point Andrew hurriedly and loudly threw open the door to his room, waking up a sleeping Eugene.

“Wha’th’hell?” he mumbled in an attempt to sound angry. He rose slowly, using his arms to hold himself up. “Wha’happen?”

“How did you not hear that?!” Andrew asked. “It sounded like something exploded!”

Eugene just stared at Andrew for several seconds. “What are you talking-” The door slammed shut forcefully, knocking Andrew out of the room and onto his back. There was a dull ringing in his ears as he stared dumbly at the ceiling. When the ringing quieted he heard what sounded like struggling and a soft banging sound coming from inside Eugene’s room.

Andrew jumped to his feet, suddenly getting very lightheaded and losing his vision for a moment. He turned the handle and pushed against the door, but there was something pushing back on the other end. He threw himself against the door with greater force, and he felt it give a little bit, but the force on the other side just pushed back harder. Mirroring an idea he’d seen in dozens of movies, Andrew backed a few feet away from the door, and hurled himself at it with a running start, and he was able to open the door for a brief second before being pushed back out, along with a brief rush of cold air.

Andrew took a few steps back and collected himself. He inhaled deeply before charging at the door once more. The handle gave without any resistance and the door flew effortlessly open, sending Andrew tumbling inside. He tripped over his own feet, and clumsily regained his composure as he looked for his roommate.

Eugene was now on the floor beside his bed, flailing in a tangle of sheets, with a pillow over his face. He was being smothered. Andrew quickly dove to Eugene’s side and attempted to wrest the pillow off of his face, but again was met by some unseen force. He pulled against it so hard that his muscles ached, but to no avail. After a few seconds, Eugene’s arms found their way to the pillow as well, and the two were able to remove the it together.

Eugene immediately took a gulp of air and tried to sit up, but the sheets around him tightened and constricted his movement, keeping him bound to the floor. Andrew began frantically pulling at the sheets, but soon felt something cold and tight wrap around his ankles and before knew it he was being dragged across the room. Andrew tried to grab at the legs of Eugene’s bed, but he was too far away before he’d even had time to react; he then tried grabbing at the carpet, but that proved too weak a lifeline, and the invisible attacker was able to pull him away easily. Andrew desperately kicked his feet in an attempt to wrench them free but whenever he felt he was making progress the force returned as tight as ever. When he had made it all the way to the wall, the force weakened for a moment, and Andrew tried to pull away, but then felt himself being pulled up the wall. He pounded his fists with all his might and flailed his lower body. When he was about halfway up the wall, he was released, landing uncomfortably on the floor.

As he crawled towards Eugene, he felt that cold essence brush against his back, but whatever was trying to catch him had failed. The sheet was now wrapped about his Eugene’s neck, and he was desperately fumbling at his pockets, but whatever held him was pinning his arms to the floor. When Andrew reached Eugene he dug his hand into the pocket and pulled out first his cellphone, then some spare change, and then a pocket knife.

Without hesitating Andre cut away at the sheets with the knife. Within a few seconds, Eugene rolled onto his hands and knees and started to cough profusely and gasp for air in a pile of tattered cloth.

“Are you okay?” Andrew asked, feeling kind of ridiculous for doing so.

“I think I pissed myself,” Eugene squeaked. “What the hell is happening?”

“MURDERER!”

The scream, unmistakably feminine and filled with raw emotion, seemed to be coming from everywhere at once, and sounded like the echo of a noise made very far away, but it was so loud that Andrew was fairly sure he’d gone deaf for moments after its conclusion. Everything fell silent. Eugene and Andrew stared at each other, eyes wide with fear and confusion, for what felt like far too long before Eugene looked towards the door. Andrew nodded, and the two bolted, but before Andrew could reach the door, a burst of compressed air hit him square in the chest, winding him and knocking him into the wall.

Andrew’s head spun. He tried to catch his breath. The form of a naked young woman suddenly flickered before his eyes, like a shoddy image on a TV screen. The girl, who looked to be about Andrew’s age was transparent and ethereal, and her features were tinted with a light blue glow. Her dark hair was wild, her eyes simultaneously hurt and lost and angry. She was bruised, too. On her breasts, legs, abdomen, and cheeks, at least from what Andrew could see at first glance. And one glance was all he got because in what felt like two seconds, she was gone.

In an attempt to outmaneuver what he could only describe as a ghost, Andrew vaulted over Eugene’s bed before heading towards the door. He slammed it tightly behind him. Eugene, meanwhile, had made his way across the living room and to the front door, but he was tugging at to no avail. After a few seconds, he gave up and turned to Andrew helplessly. “We’re locked in!” he exclaimed, crossing the living room towards Andrew. “Come on, help me break the window!”

But before Andrew could comply to his request, his biology textbook was sent soaring across the room, crashing into the wall very near Eugene’s computer. This process was repeated with his communications textbook, this time aimed more precisely at Eugene, who just barely ducked out of the way. Using the bookshelf for additional ammunition, this barrage continued, a few of the lighter books striking the roommates. Andrew started to make his way toward the kitchen, but he saw the knife block tumble to the floor inside, its contents spilling across the floor.

“I think there’s more than one of them!” Andrew shouted to Eugene.

“More than one of what?” he asked, making his way towards the bathroom. Andrew followed after him, thinking that it’d be good to at least put another door between them. Once the two of them were inside, they used their weight to barricade the door.

“I think whatever is attacking us is a ghost,” Andrew said breathlessly. “Or more than one ghost.”

Eugene looked incredulous. “That’s insane,” he replied.

“How is any of this not insane?” As Andrew asked this, he and Eugene looked away from each other and into the bathroom’s long, enormous mirror. In the reflection, standing a foot or so to the right of them, was a young girl - possibly an early high schooler - wearing a grey t-shirt that just said “PINK” and a pair of yoga pants. Her hair was tied into a ponytail, and her almond eyes were wide with surprise. Also, she was a ghost.

“Another one!” Eugene exclaimed in horror, his hand reaching for the door.

“Wait no! I’m friendly! Like Caspar!” she exclaimed, her voice filled with both urgency and excitement. Then she slowed a bit, and looked between Eugene and Andrew curiously. “Wait, ‘another one?’ You mean you haven’t been able to see me until now?” They shook their heads. Andrew looked where she should have been standing, and saw nothing, but in the mirror she was clearly there. Like the haunted house ride at Disneyland. “I’ve been trying to get your attention all night long and you haven’t even been able to see me? Isn’t one of you the replacement?!”

Before either of them said anything, another image appeared briefly in the mirror - another woman, this one older than any of the other ones. She looked kind of familiar to Andrew, but before he could really make her out, a hairbrush hit the mirror with such force that it shattered. Andrew ducked down and shielded his face, and Eugene followed suit. Fortunately, it was more of a crack than a true shatter, but their connection with the ghost was lost all the same.

Eugene and Andrew quickly tumbled out of the bathroom and into the living room, which they found covered in various foods. Most of the food was thrown about sporadically, as if by a tornado or an angry child, but on the wall opposite them, next to the door, written in what appeared to be some sort of jam, was: “YOU KILLED US”

“The girls from downstairs,” Andrew realized. “These are the women that that Roger guy killed!”

Eugene stared wide-eyed at Andrew for a moment and then looked about the room. “You hear that?” he yelled. “You have the wrong address!”

They didn’t seem to care, as something suddenly hit Andrew in the back with enough force to knock him down onto his stomach, winding him once again. As he lay on the floor, feeling dazed, helpless and exhausted, he found himself staring at Eugene’s bookshelf. There was a wide variety, from textbooks to Jane Austen to graphic novels. But one in particular stood out to him, and not because it was leather-bound and without a title on its spine, but because it was moving. It was barely noticeable at first glance, because it wasn’t making big movements, but rather it was moving centimeters at a time, making its way out of the bookshelf. But just before it was all the way out, the bookshelf was pushed over, sending some books sprawling across the floor, and leaving some trapped underneath. The moving book was among the latter.

Andrew dragged himself over to the book shelf and moved it aside. The strange tome was near the top, buried under a Scott Pilgrim box set. He flipped through some of the pages, and found that it was someone’s notebook. One page, fairly early on in the book, was bookmarked, and as Andrew was glancing it over, he felt something pulling at the book in an attempt to rip it from his hands. At first, Andrew tried pulling against the force, but his muscles already ached and he felt himself losing his grip almost instantly, so instead Andrew just ripped the bookmarked page out of the book and shoved it in his pocket.

Eugene, meanwhile, was watching helplessly as a book about game design crashed into his computer monitor, knocking it off of the desk and breaking it. Looking about the scene, Andrew realized that with one ghost holding the book, and the other hurling one at Eugene, if he were right about there being two ghosts, that would mean…

He ran across the room, taking Eugene by the arm and dragging him as he went. Eugene struggled for a moment, still staring at his computer desk, but when he realized what was going on, he went easily. When they made it to the door, Andrew wasted no time in turning the knob to find that he had been right: it opened without struggle.

“Follow me to my car,” Eugene insisted as he started going down the stairs two at a time. Andrew followed after him, very nearly tripping down the stairs in his haste. The apartment complex was completely silent - unsurprising given that it was who-knows-how-early o’clock - and the police cars were gone at last. When they made it to the car - an old-looking little red thing - Eugene quickly unlocked both doors with his keys, which were fortunately in the pockets of his soiled pants. “Wait, I think I’m still a little drunk,” he admitted when they both sat down.

“Just drive,” Andrew said as he buckled his seatbelt. “I don’t know how and we don’t know how fast they are so just drive!”

Eugene turned the key and the car roared to life without a hitch. Surprising, given the night they were having. “Where should I go?”

“Anywhere that isn’t here.”

Eugene nodded and quickly and dangerously pulled out of the parking lot and headed into town. As Eugene drove aimlessly, Andrew turned on the car’s overhead light and took a look at the page he had torn out. Across the top in big letters were two words: “THE PASSING.”

“I have learned from Death the way to banish these ghosts (that is what I have decided to…blah blah blah,” Andrew murmured to himself, reading the words on the page. “…a circle of ‘torches’ the original text called for, but I have found that candles will do. The circle will imprison the creature, at least for a time.” The remainder of the page was a diagram displaying the candle arrangement. A note to the side said that the exact dimensions of the circle were negotiable, but that the circle must consist of thirteen candles - no more, no less. The whole idea would have sounded completely crazy to Andrew about half an hour ago, but now nothing could have seemed more commonplace. “Do you have candles back at the apartment?”

“What, like incense?”

“It doesn’t say.”

“Well, no either way.” Andrew thought for a moment. Where could he get candles at who-knows-how-early o’clock? And then it hit him.

     “Dammit,” he moaned. “I know exactly where to go.”