Chapter 27 Clarke #2
“Hey, everyone,” Collins said into the car wash void.
“Collins and Clarke Cartwright here. First-time callers in Levan’s Car Wash.
” It felt like the frequency of the air around us rose as Collins spoke.
“We’re hoping you guys might have some insight on an awful, terrible motherfucker named Ed Sullivan. ”
“And Flynn,” I whispered to her.
“Okay, you tell them,” she whispered back—as if the ghosts couldn’t hear both of us no matter the volume.
“You’re better at this.”
“It’s just talking, Clarke.”
I rolled my eyes and hoped Collins could see it in the candlelight. “And, um, also Flynn Wilkes,” I said a little louder. My voice cracked.
Collins brushed her hand against mine, and I grabbed it—interlocking our fingers. Both of us waited, listened. All I could hear was the occasional drop of water from somewhere.
“Please,” I said after a bit. “We’re trying…we’re trying to save our home.”
“Did you feel that?” Collins whispered. Right as she said it, I felt like someone dropped an ice cube down the back of my shirt. I squeezed my sister’s hand in response. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something move. Both of our heads whipped in that direction.
“Finally,” a feminine voice said, but there was no apparition—just an orb. I had to make a conscious effort not to try and block her out. “We’ve been trying to tell you for months.”
“Months?” Collins asked.
“Well, at least one of you,” the voice said.
“One of you couldn’t hear us last year, and the other will not listen.
” When ghosts spoke to me, or around me, I felt it in my bones.
It was like they were speaking at a vibrational level that I had to feel instead of hear—even though it registered like I was hearing them normally, the way my body felt told a different story.
A few more orbs appeared around us.
“Well, we’re here now,” Collins said. “What do you know?”
“Flynn signed a contract with Sullivan Industries,” another voice said. “As soon as the farm passes to him through the marriage and inheritance clause, it’ll belong to Sullivan.”
“He wants to drill for oil.” I couldn’t tell if that was a voice we’d heard before or not. “As soon as possible.”
Fuck.
“The farm is too close to the Sweetwater River to drill,” I said, mostly to myself. “There’s no way that ecosystem comes out unscathed.”
Collins squeezed my hand. “Two birds, one stone,” she said harshly. “Wipe out the farm and outdoor tourism in one fell swoop.” Her voice was hollow.
“A stool can’t stand on one leg,” I said.
“Papadakis Trucking will suffer, too—if the farm is gone,” Collins said. “A third of what they transfer comes from the farm. Maybe they’ll manage for a bit, but they don’t have tankers, remember? They can’t transport crude oil.”
“Shit,” I said. “You’re right.” If Sullivan was successful, Sweetwater Peak wouldn’t just change—it would cease to exist as we know it.
A true ghost town.
“You have to do something,” a voice said.
“This can’t happen,” said another. Suddenly, the voices were no longer coming one by one but in a chorus. I shut my eyes and did my best to tune them out, but there were too many. Orbs were swirling around Collins and me like a laser show.
The pressure in my head started to build.
“I-I need to…Get. Out. Of here,” I said through gritted teeth. I squeezed my eyes shut and felt like I could lose my footing at any second. “Olly. Get me out of here.” I tried to stumble toward the entrance, but Collins was still holding my hand.
“Stop fighting it,” she said over the static of voices.
“You don’t get it,” I said. “It hurts.”
I felt Collins’s hands on either side of my face. “Look at me, Clarke,” she said, but I shook my head. “Look. At. Me.”
I reluctantly opened my eyes a little. I could see my sister’s face in the candlelight. There was worry there, but also…determination.
“We are not two halves of something bigger,” she said. “You did not get half of my abilities. We are both fully realized, one-of-a-kind individuals. Your abilities are yours. They are part of you and pushing them away is causing you pain. Stop.”
“I don’t…” I felt woozy. “I don’t like them.”
“That’s because you’ve left them in the dark for your entire life. They’re forced into a corner—cold and dim. Why do you shove them down every time they beg to shine?”
“You…don’t…get it,” I said, my breathing jagged.
“I’m the only one who gets it, Lars,” Collins said. “And I get that you’ve spent our entire life trying to make the part of yourself that we share smaller—make yourself smaller. I don’t know why you find value in suffering. I wish you could find it in joy.”
The voices continued to swirl around us, and the pressure in my head continued to build.
Collins didn’t know how bad it could get.
“I need to leave,” I said and then stumbled a little.
Collins wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me back before I fell into the chasm in the middle of the car wash.
My body was weak. I could barely stand.
“Clarke.” Collins’s voice was barely discernible among the voices. “Clarke, Lars. Stay with me.” I felt my sister put my arm over her shoulder. “Can you hold on if we’re on the bike?”
“Yeah,” I slurred and stumbled again.
“Well, that’s a no,” Collins said. “Sit here. Stay. Put your head between your legs.” I tried to sit with control, but it was more of a fall as soon as my sister let go of me. Through the slits in my eyes, I saw her run toward the Buick.
“All right, motherfuckers,” I heard her yell. “I know there’s enough of you to do some physical damage to this place, and I need you to get this car off the tracks and throw some of those supernatural wavelengths my way.”
I couldn’t distinguish the voices from the noises happening around me. Everything felt blurry. I heard Collins scream or whoop or something. I didn’t know how long it took, but she was back at my side.
“I’m sorry, Lars,” she said. “I’ll get you out of here.”
And then everything went black.