REVENGE OF THE MASKED GHOST
Chapter 22
“To Rescue A Ghost”
(Copyright 2011 Kevin Paul Shaw Broden)
by Kevin Paul Shaw Broden
Donald Raymond couldn’t believe his eyes, and for a second thought he was still unconscious and dreaming of his dead brother-in-law. Far across the warehouse, in the fringe of the light, stood The Masked Ghost. He appeared shorter, but there wasn’t time to think of anything more when the masked man moved again and spoke.
“No ghost shall die this night, unless you seek to join him.”
It was the same gravelly whisper that Donald had used earlier, but just enough of a higher pitch that he knew at once who was wearing the mask. He chocked back a gasp so not to alert the others. But too late, one of the thug’s pulled out his gun and fired towards the Masked Ghost. The masked man had already dived behind the wooden crates as the bullet strook and splinters flew in all direction.
“Don’t shoot, you bafoon!” Spade shouted at his own man, “Do you want us all to die!”
Donald glanced up at him. That was an interesting statement. But there was no time to explore it. He had to act, and dropped back into his own whisper voice.
“The Ghost is everywhere, Spade. You have not captured me.”
It was enough to distract them, as he hoped the other Masked Ghost would get far enough away from their guns.
“Shut up!” Spade growled at him, then at the others. “Go after him! Kill him, but do it away from the crates!”
The two thugs grunted at him and, with guns at the ready, ran off between the crates and vanished into the dark.
Spade put a hand on each arm of the chair and leaned into Donald’s face. “Your stupid theatrics will not stop me from controlling all of Manhattan. If they will not bow to me, then they can see their city burn.”
Donald didn’t wait to act. He slung his head forward smashing it into Spade who jumped up in pain, but not fast enough to avoid a pair of knees making contact with his groin. Spade let out a child like scream and tumbled backwards, but it also cause Donald’s chair to fall away. In this position he was helpless.
Dodds, that traitorous and murdering police officer, caught hold of his criminal boss.
“Let’s get out of here Mr. Spade. The boys can handle these fools,” he said while guiding Spade away from the chaos.
“No, no, just give me a moment. I want to see them die,” but Dodds already pushing the fat man through an inner door.
Once they were out of site, Donald turned towards the man who remained staining there. Brewster was frozen in fear; he didn’t know what to do or what to make of any of it.
“This is all my fault,” he kept mumbling.
“Mr. Brewster, pay attention,” Donald said from the floor, “snap out of it man. Get me up and untied.”
“You promised me this would all be over,” Brewster looked at him.
“I don’t know what the Masked Ghost promised you, but I’m not him. Get me up and we’ll figure this all out once we’re safe.”
They could hear movement coming from all over the darkened warehouse. Shout’s like ‘There he is.’ Donald tried not to laugh.
Finally Brewster knelt and lifted the chair up and dragged it backwards.
“What are you doing? Untie me!” But Brewster kept dragging him and around some of the crates, hoping to get away from the killers.
Brewster was terrified, but as long as he concentrated on getting Donald into hiding he was doing okay. Donald tried to understand the poor man; he must have begun to loose control when his daughter was killed, to then be haunted by a strange mask-wearing ghost.
Suddenly Donald was falling, his head hit the floor again, and Brewster was screaming.
“Hey, what happened?” He craned his neck to see what was going on.
Brewster was shaking and staring at the second Masked Ghost who had stepped out of a shadow to join them.
“That really doesn’t help us stay hidden,” Donald said.
“Sorry,” Margaret said as from beneath her mask. She then knelt and lifted the chair that held her husband. He looked at Brewster, now slumped to the floor in terror; the man would be of no use to them now.
“I want to scream too,” Donald said as she untied him, “What the hell are you doing here? You could have been shot!”
“Saving your life here, if you hadn’t noticed,” Margaret pulled the last cord of rope away from his legs.
Exasperated, but finally free, Donald couldn’t argue with her. Getting to his feet, he wanted to hug his wife, but didn’t. There’d be time for that later; if they got out of here.
He turned from her and began examining the crates next to them.
“Now, what’s so important about what Spade’s been ‘importing’?”
“Wait,” he read the shipping labels glued to the side, “these are meant to go to Nikolas’ construction site.”
“You’re friend’s site, why? What’s in them?”
Donald wanted to know that as well. He took hold of a corner of the wood and pulled. After a little effort, it splinted and came away to reveal the contents.
“Damn!” There were grey green metal boxes inside. Each marked with an insignia that left no doubt of their contents.
“It’s full of explosives,” he looked around and realized that every single one of these crates was a bomb just waiting for a fuse.
Donald took another look at Brewster who was just shivering.
“The first chance you get, get him out of here.” He ordered his wife. Somehow the mask on her face didn’t seem at all odd right now.
The sound of a gun’s trigger being set came loudly in Donald’s ear. He slowly turned a degree to find Dodd’s standing close with his gun even closer.
“Don’t move,” the detective said.
“So you’ve discovered my little treasure, Mr. Raymond.” Spade said approaching, the two thugs appeared and blocked their only means of escape, “Now you know the power I will hold over this city. Too bad you won’t be able to do anything about it.”
The two people dressed as the Masked Ghost, protecting Brewster between them, were slowly escorted back into the open area of the warehouse away from the crates of explosive.
“Now I get to watch you die. All your obsession with my plans only brought you death.”
Donald hated that ugly smirk on the man with the cottonmouth voice, and he hated the gleam in Dodd’s eye even more. The man really wanted to kill as much as he had killed Adrian before them.
His anger at this man nearly prevented him from noticing something, but when he did everything changed.
“Well, you may kill me, Mr. Spade,” Donald bent over and picked up his hat and put it on, “but you need to realize something. The Masked Ghost is not the haunting obsession of one man.”
Proudly he put the mask back on, and spoke once more with the whisper voice of the Masked Ghost:
“For I am the ghost of an entire city that has been murdered by men like you,
and ghosts of those who refuse to be killed.
For I am LEGION!”
At which point two more MASKED GHOSTS leapt from the shadows. One of them is armed.
To Be Continued…
