Page 62 of Hot Ghost Summer

Theo steps back, and the tip of the LPA Synchrotron briefly swings into the frame, as if he’s got the camera in one hand and the gun in the other. Yet still, I can’t see enough to formulate an exit strategy.

I widen the lens until the full entity becomes visible. Whatever he is, he has a masculine and human form. The wide brim of a hat shadows his face, and in the high contrast of the full sun it’s enough to entirely obscure it. His broad shoulders are draped in a long coat and a sawn-off shotgun dangles menacingly from one hand.

Theo speaks, but there’s too much audio interference from the other apparition for me to hear what he says.

This isn’t like with the wraith. It had been stronger than me, yes, but I’d been able to draw from the electricity supply in Theo’s flat—had levelled up by consuming it. Out here, I have nothing to manipulate. No additional resources. Whatever entity this is, not only is he much stronger than me, but he’s got the home-turf advantage. This is his haunt.

Slowly, he drags the wide barrel of his shotgun up level with his shoulder and aims it at Theo.

White and green lines rapidly roll across my field of vision, and tiny electrical sparks arc within the camera in Theo’s hand. What use is being a technomancer if this is all I’m good for?

Theo raises the plasma ray in self-defence.

It was my decision to return here, and because I lacked critical information, I’ve placed him at risk.

The spirit adjusts his grip, and I can tell from the specific motion that he just clicked off the safety. Regardless of whether his spectral weapon is operational, he alone possesses lethal capability.

Theo takes a sideways step, and the argon gas chamber of the ray temporarily blocks my view. Inert, the gas inside is invisible. That’s how I’d known he couldn’t have had the safety on last time—despite his protests—because when it’s activated, it emits a bold blue light.

More white and green interference lines rush through my vision.

I need Theo out of there. Alive.

But how can I help him, when I don’t even have enough power to send a message?

The Synchrotron holds stored electricity.

Focusing away from the view through the cameras, I search for the ray’s electromagnetic signature. Ordinarily, it should be well-insulated, but it was fired a little less than a week ago, and its high-end gamma energy is easy to detect. It creates a tight field of dense particles that cling neatly to the shape of the weapon in Theo’s hand.

I migrate into the fabric of the plasma accelerator, and do the same thing I did in his flat last night: I pull the energy inward to consolidate my form. More potent by far than a domestic electricity source, I manifest instantly and stand directly between Theo and the unknown spirit.

Fuelled by pulses of laser light, anger, and fear, I brace the flats of my palms on Theo’s heaving muscled chest.

“Run,” I grit out.

Hoping like hell that he listens to me this time, and doesn’t play the hero, I turn my attention to the ghost and his shotgun.

There aren’t many apparitions who can appear fully formed like this. He’s an almost perfect rendition of his once-living self. Every water droplet that slicked his raincoat at the point of his death, and even the dirt under his fingernails as they squeeze down on the trigger, is immortalised alongside him.

As if I’m viewing it in slow motion, the barrel of the shotgun wobbles slightly as the hammer strikes the pin. Instinctively, I condense the air into a shield, but it has no effect on the large-bore cartridge that spirals wildly from the end of the shotgun.

“Theo!” I call, but in the few seconds since I told him to run, he’s only made it as far as the opening that drops him onto the floor below.

The spectral bullet misses him by a finger’s width, and passes clean through the slide of the plasma ray, where its energy transfer activates the laser.

An enormous sucking force drags me in and a brilliant-blue blast whites out everything.

Between one moment and the next, I’m transported from the first floor of Plot 47 back into my phone, where it rests in the shaded doorway of the site office.

Theo comes skidding into view in a cloud of dust seconds later.

“Holy fuck! Hollis, you in there?” He snatches me up, his flushed and freckled cheeks filling my view.

Home, Theo. Now. Go!

He dumps his weapon in the open holdall, swings it up onto his shoulder, and finally does as he’s told without answering back.

Good boy.