Tremaine's Haunting
1
Don Hannigan flew over the crowd below. There was something about the circus that thrilled his blood. Well, let his spirits soar was perhaps a better metaphor. The ghost smiled at the thought. Today he would take a day off from saving the world and enjoy the show. He settled in the upper part of the tent to watch the festivities below. The opening parade had started marching, making him wish for popcorn, or a hot dog, even though it was useless to him now.
A woman crying drew Hannigan's attention. He noticed she was frantically looking around. He descended to listen. Maybe he could work some of his own magic and clear whatever it was up.
After all, it came with the turf of being a Guardian of Justice.
Hannigan nudged an elderly man to get specifics with a ghostly finger.
"What's the problem, hon?," said the old man.
"My Ricky is gone," the lady said. "I only took my eyes off him for a second."
"Stay here and stay calm," said the ghostly hero as he left a bewildered mother and bystander behind.
Hannigan started with the big top and worked his way outside to the midway. He flew through the tents and people at the high speed he was capable of as a ghost. Many unconsciously felt him, or sensed his presence, and shuddered as he passed.
He searched the circus grounds with his phenomenal speed. The Blinker had nothing on him when he wanted to really move. There was no little lost boy walking around by himself.
He did see two men taking a crying little boy out to the parking lot, though. He hovered over them so that he could listen to them talk.
"Hush, Rickey," one of the men finally said. "You'll see your mom soon enough."
"I want to see her now," said the boy.
"We have to go somewhere else first," said the man smoothly. "Just like I said."
"No, Daddy," said Ricky. "I want Mommy now."
Hannigan nodded to himself.
He slipped inside the other man as easily as a rock sinks into water. His energy let the little boy's arm go, while it made the other hand punch Rickey's dad in the face. The man went down with a heavy thud.
"Ricky, your mother is waiting for you in the big tent," Hannigan said, making himself heard. "Go to her. She doesn't know where you are."
Ricky ran back towards the circus.
"You shouldn't have done that, man," Ricky's dad said, pulling a pistol from his waistband.
The pistol flew from his hand in an eyeblink. The bullets jumped out of the pistol on their own. It floated over and burrowed under trash in a bright red can.
"Let's get out of here," Ricky's dad said to the other kidnapper.
"Are you feeling all right?" the friend said. "What will Tremaine say when you don't have your kid?"
"I'll tell him the truth," the father said. "You let him go."
The other looked around fearfully. "You're kidding, right?"
"Does it look like I'm kidding?," he said in a gruff voice. "You let him go and punched me in the face when I tried to stop you."
"That's not what happened!" said the other kidnapper. "You can't lay that on me."
"You see this bruise on my face?" said . "What do you think Tremaine is going to say? He isn't going to believe you over this unless you come up with something better than 'I didn't do it'."
"Look, I don't know what happened," the first victim declared. "I know I wouldn't do that."
"Sure, you didn't," he said.
"Look," said the other man. "Can't we work something out?"
"You drive and talk," said the possessing ghost. "I'll listen and if the story is good, maybe I'll help you out of your pickle."
"You have the keys," said the other kidnapper.
"I know that, stupid," he said , trying to cover his blunder. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a key-ring. He tossed the ring over and let the man lead him to a mini-van.
2
Hannigan sat in the back of the van, and watched the miles go by. So far the men had been silent about the unexpected events at the circus.
"What are we going to tell Tremaine?," one of the kidnappers finally asked.
"I'm waiting for you to tell me," said the father. "I want to see what kind of bull you come up with."
"Can't we just say we couldn't get the kid?" asked the other man. Sweat rolled down his forehead.
Tremaine couldn't be all that scary, could he?
"Sounds reasonable," said Ricky's dad, trying to smile so the guy would relax. No need to have an accident before they met the mastermind of this mess.
"You'll go along with me?" asked the kidnapper.
"Sure, as long as you watch your driving."
"Are you okay?" asked the man suspiciously. "You don't sound like yourself."
"Just worried about what Tremaine will say when we show up without Ricky."
The truck pulled off the highway, passed through some rural routes, then onto a dirt road. At the end of the road was a gate and a guard armed with a rifle.
Hannigan's driver slowed down to a stop. He said the password and the guard pulled the gate back out of the way. The driver pulled passed quietly.
Tremaine still awaited.
3
Hannigan followed his unknowing hosts into a house that had been converted to a bunker. Armed guards were everywhere. He looked around, reining in his twitching as he passed through the walls.
One false move would get his patsies killed before he could get answers to his questions.
Barricades covered the windows, blocking out the sun. A bar slammed shut on the door as soon as he was inside. The men went towards the center of the house. Stairs were cut in the center of the floor, leading under the house.
The Haunter descended into the darkness, wishing he knew what was going on.
The cellar had a chair at one end. Torches burned on either side of the chair. Some kind of decoration had been carved into the floor. The remnants of a man sat on the chair.
The men stepped forward to explain their failure, while Hannigan stood in the shadows, quietly observing the proceedings. His unknowing allies told their concocted tale nervously as he watched the figure on the chair closely.
It appeared to be a skeleton with thin hair and strands of flesh hanging from its skull. A smoking jacket was belted around it. A bony finger tapped the arm of its chair as it listened to its underling.
The zombie stood up. He looked angry. He raised one skeletal hand. A bright blue beam lanced into the Haunter's erstwhile partners. The men vanished into a stream of boiling blood and destroyed flesh.
"Step forward, ghost," said Tremaine.
The Haunter stepped into the dim light.
"Why did you interfere with my errand?," the lich demanded.
"Bye, now," said Hannigan, ducking toward a wall.
Brilliant blue beams of light raced after Hannigan as he dodged and weaved. The militia men began to empty out of the room. He paused by the last one, pulling at a grenade as the ersatz soldier ran up the stairs. He could hear the zombie lumbering after him, and the crackle of energy. The grenade came free from its belt. He made sure that the safety spoon was gone, before tossing it under a shuttered window.
The Haunter hovered in front of the boarded-up window. He didn't know what to expect as Tremaine lumbered up the stairs. A blue glow surrounded the man's hands as his skeletal visage glared at the former stock broker.
"So you turn to face your doom?" rattled the lich.
"Already doomed," Hannigan said as the grenade went up.
A hole was blown in the wall. The sun mercilessily shone through the gap on the dead men. Smoke began to roll up from Tremaine's body in the light. Hannigan whistled silently as the other dead man caught fire in the otherwise darkened room.
"What have you done?" wailed the lich, as he exploded into fiery fragments. The house caught fire immediately. Black smoke roiled into the air, as Hannigan flew off.
He still had a circus to attend.