Misguided Ghost

“What’s it like?” Bridget asked Becca as they stood beside each other in the crowded airport. Becca’s plane was ready to takeoff in thirty minutes.
“What’s what like?” Becca looked up at her with questioning eyes.
“Tell me what it is like when I use my power on you. How do you feel, what do you think?”

Becca was silent for a couple of seconds, lost in her own, controlled mind. “I still don’t want to leave you, but I know I will get on the plane. I think it’s something like our thirst. You want to kill all these humans, but you know you won’t. I can still think, but my mind won’t follow my own instructions; right now I’m trying to turn invisible and hide from you, but I can’t, ‘cause you told me not to.”

“I’m sorry,” Bridget whispered softly.
“I know you are Bri,” she said and squeezed her hand. “I have to leave now.”
Bridget wrapped her strong arms around her friend in a tight hug. “I love you Becca. Thank you.”
“I love you too, Little Bee,” Becca whispered as her eyes brimmed with tears.
“And tell my family that I love them as well, that I think about them,” Bridget said in a rushed whisper and her eyes started to prick. She wished she could cry.

“Do you want me to give Embry a message?” Becca asked her carefully.
Bridget bit down at her quivering lip and shook her head. “No words can describe how horrible I feel for putting him through this.”
Becca nodded her head. “Where are you going?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “I’ll run somewhere further north in Europe where I can be out in the day without looking like a disco ball.”

“You wouldn’t have to do that if you let me stay,” Becca told her with a sly smile.
Bridget laughed and messed her hair. “Nice try, Becca. Have a nice flight.”
They called the flight over the intercom as she spoke and Bridget stayed at the airport until she was sure Becca was safe on the plane.

She was frozen in place for an hour, contemplating with herself what her next move should be. She was sure about leaving Italy for good. Running up North; maybe Germany, or England. She thought about Ireland. She’d been there a few times with her family to visit friends. She’d like to go somewhere familiar.

England was a safe place. With the way her thirst was under control she could go back to school; finish high-school and then continue on some kind of education. The loss of her taste buds and the fact that she couldn’t eat normal, human food had killed her dream of becoming a chef. She wanted to do something that could help others. She wanted to be like Carlisle, but she knew she couldn’t be a doctor – too much blood, too soon.

With that in mind Bridget left the airport. She left the city and followed the trail she’d studied on the map. The backpack on her back contained a cell phone, a change of clothes and the said map. She really didn’t need anything else.

^^^

Bridget didn’t keep a close watch on the time that passed. The only thing that told her it was changing was the rising and falling of the sun on the sky. She only paused to hunt and to check that she still was on the right course. Most of the time was spent trying to ignore her mind and thoughts.

Bridget arrived in Calais, France in the middle of the night, ready to cross the English Channel, but was paused by her own backpack. If she swam across with it on her back, it would get ruined, including the stuff inside – the only cell phone Becca could reach her on.

It took her as long as an hour to find a store that sold airtight plastic bags. She didn’t buy it, but left and apology note at the cash register. It wasn’t big enough for the whole backpack, but she put the phone and the map in it before she placed it in the backpack; it could survive the water, and she could just wash the clothes later.

She took a deep breath before she enter the water, knowing that she wouldn’t breath until she reached the shore in Dover. Bridget used thirty minutes on what took most humans twenty hours.

^^^

Stepping onto British soil made her feel relieved. She couldn’t believe it still was just a week since she was changed. Bridget didn’t regret leaving her family; ‘cause she couldn’t have done any of these things unless, but she wished she had the guts to go back.

She didn’t stay long in England, deciding on Ireland. She traveled for a week, taking her time to see the country. It was a relief that the sun didn’t shine as much here as it did in Italy, but she still wore the sunglasses. Her eyes were freakish.

Bridget was a few miles outside Dublin walking along a silent but winding road. She didn’t expect mush, so she was quickly alerted when she smelled smoke and fresh blood. She stopped dead in her tracks. Her instincts were telling her to go and drain wherever the blood came from, but her senses told her to stay away, to turn around and forget the mouthwatering scent.

But the human part in her, the part that still held a bit compassion, knew she had to go and see if anyone was harmed.

She ran around the next turn even before she had thought finished. She saw a car on its top off the road. It had missed the turn. It was a horrible sight, but she went up to the car and peered inside. Two people, a woman with fiery red hair and a man in his fifties sat upside down, still buckled up, but the front had smashed their feet completely, none of them were reacting.

“Hello?” Bridget slapped the woman’s cheek carefully. She heard none heartbeat from the man. “Can you hear me?
The woman breathed slowly. “Yes,” she whispered.
“Okay,” Bridget thought faster than she’d ever done before. “Do you know what your name is?”
“Mi name is Alisa Calhoun.”
“Good. Do you know where we are?”

Alisa said the name of the road.
“I’ll call the emergency number and call for an ambulance for you.”
“Wait,” Alisa opened her eyes again and locked eyes with Bridget. “Save my son first,” She whispered and let out one last breath.

Bridget turned around and peered inside the backseat and saw a little red haired boy lie on the roof of the car.
“Shit!” Bridget said and tried to reach him through the small glimpse that had once been the window. “Can you reach my hand?” she asked him.

The boy lifted his head a little and looked around before he started screaming and trashing. The car was almost hanging out of a cliff and his trashing made the car move.

Bridget cursed again before she tore the opening bigger with her strength and pulled the boy out before the car slid further down.

She dragged him to the side of the road and checked him. His heart was beating irregularly, but that could just as much because he was terrified and in shock. Bridget tried to ignore the fact that her hands were covered in blood and that a river of blood pulsed out of a gash in his forehead.

She pulled her cell-phone from the backpack and called for an ambulance before she returned to the little boy.
“Where are you hurting?” she asked and tried to wipe the blood out of his eyes.
“My head is hurting. And here,” he said an pointed to his ribcage.
“What about your leg?” Bridget asked him and eyed the strange position his right leg was in. it looked to be broken just below the knee.
He sobbed a little. “My leg is just fine.”

Bridget pinched his left leg.
“Ouch!” he screamed.
Then she pinched his right leg and he didn’t react.
“Don’t you feel that?” she asked him.
“Feel what?”
She sighed and brushed her hand over his forehead again. “It’s okay. What’s your name?”
“I’m Thomas Maddox Calhoun. Who are you?”
“I’m Bridget Call, but you can call me Bri.”
“How old are you Thomas?”
“Nine. Where is my dad?” he asked and his pulse raced again. “Where is my mommy?”

“Shh…” Bridget tried to sooth him. “I can hear the ambulance now. I’ll leave but they will find you.”
“No! Don’t leave me Bri.”
Bridget held his hand until the paramedics came and took over. She was told which hospital he would be taken till before she left.

^^^

Bridget ran into the open fields and through the forest. She sunk to the ground with her back against the tree trunk. She was shaking as she stared at her blood covered hands.

The lust and the thirst were stronger than her will. She licked her hands clean of Thomas’ blood before she threw her head back and howled in agony. The pleasure was too strong to handle.

She regretted it at once. She now had to stay away from the public until she knew she could trust herself again.