No Dominion The Walker Papers - By CE Murphy Page 0,13

under myself and broke into a run, out-pacing Danny. Took maybe half a minute to get back to the other two and maybe half a second to realize The Ack was on his knees beside Andy, who lay sprawled across the sidewalk like a rag doll. I lumbered on, details coming into focus as I got closer. The Ack was in tears. Andy was still breathing, but labored, like it was gettin’ harder and harder. Lights were goin’ funny, smearing and stretching the way they did in movies to show the viewpoint character was dead drunk. I felt like I was seein’ another, messed-up world.

That mess snapped into focus, and I saw a ghost sittin’ on Andy’s chest.

It looked like a lover bendin’ to kiss him, all this smoky black hair trailin’ between its face and his. Its mouth was over his, but I could see his breath bein’ pulled into it, hungry soft an’ sweet. It didn’t look substantial, at the same time it looked heavy. It made me think again of bein’ unable to breathe when I woke up on the plane, an’ for a horrible minute I wondered if I’d had a real narrow escape there.

Then I did the only thing I could think of, and tackled the damned thing.

Now, there ain’t no way that shoulda worked, except for the girl in my life. Joanne Walker, the closest thing I ever had to a daughter. Whether my old Army buddies wanted to hear it or not, the girl had magic. Healin’ magic, the kind that could make an old ex-smoker’s heart as strong and healthy as a teen athlete’s three days after he went into the hospital in cardiac arrest. And more than that, the kind of magic that could go into a world of spirits and demons and ask the spirits if any of ‘em would be willin’ to help an old guy along, to protect him a little an’ be there when he needed a little extra strength.

The kinda magic that would bring a tortoise spirit right into my soul, where it mostly rested and waited patiently for the times it was needed. It wasn’t until it picked me that I ever learned anything about ‘em. Turned out they were symbols of immortality the whole world over, not that I was in any hurry ta live forever. Not that I was in any hurry to die soon, either, so we were both happy with that symbology. An’ everybody knew the tortoise won the race, so that was a good thing to have in my pocket too.

What I never knew, though, was that the world over again, tortoises were symbols of somethin’ able to protect itself. Made sense, once I found it out, but I never knew it before. And if I’d learned anything ‘bout magic from Jo, it was that if a gift has one side, then it’s gotta have a flip side.

Somethin’ that could protect itself, in my mind, was also somethin’ that could fight.

I hit the ghost with two hundred an’ twenty pounds of ex-linebacker enthusiasm. Its mouth ripped open like it was screamin’, but no sound came out. We rolled together, me and it, until we hit a building wall still warm from the afternoon sunshine, an’ it came out on top.

The weight on my chest came back just like it’d done that afternoon. Pressin’ down, takin’ my breath, but this time my drunk old self saw the ghost leaning in, felt its cold mouth on mine. Saw all kindsa rage and fear in its eyes, and had no idea why. I couldn’t move, feelin’ like a hundred stones were flattenin’ me. It was desperate, trying to crush my life away as fast as it could. Like it was dyin’, and I was the only thing gonna keep it alive.

My tortoise flipped itself over, presenting its mottled shell to the ghost. It fell away and my breath came back, even though my head kept spinnin’. I sat up, checkin’ myself with my hands. I was still all there, still all breathin’. The ghost spun toward Andy again, and I remembered him actin’ like he couldn’t breathe all day. “Wait a sec!”

No way I thought the thing would understand me, but it stopped and turned, tremblin’ with need. “Wait a minute,” I said again. “What’s goin’ on, what do you want? How the hell can I even see you?”

“See who?” The Ack whispered, but Daniel hushed him. The ghost looked between us, haunted