Ghost Trauma
Grave Dagger flash fiction #3
Mallory Smith balanced a carryout coffee tray in one hand, brushing hair out of her face with the other. The breeze off Lake Altana — humid and warm on this autumn evening — could be equally pleasant and annoying.
“You named it what?” Zoe Foxshade-Andeneka’s face showed a mix of humor and skepticism. “‘Ghost trauma,’ huh? That’s a new one.”
“Gotta call it something,” Mallory replied with a casual shrug.
The corner of Marine Avenue and Market Row buzzed with activity. The weekend Wharfside Market had all but concluded, and pedestrian traffic was almost as aggressive as the cars speeding through the intersection.
“You’re sure Dalton remembers that he’s picking you up?” Zoe took a sip of her coffee, sidling closer as the throng of pedestrians skirted around and past them. “Journalists — especially freelancers — are renown for losing track of the time.”
“He’ll be here.” Mallory frowned at her wristwatch. “He’s just picking up GrovesRail tickets from Central Precinct.”
“Maybe he got ambushed by fresh ghost trauma.” Zoe hid an impish grin behind another tip of her takeout cup.
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Mallory said absently, keeping an eye on Marine’s southbound lanes. She exhaled heavily. “I don’t know why I can sense … well, anything paranormal. It’s not in my genes; I’m not descended from an old Dengari clan.”
“Well, I’m a descendant,” Zoe replied, “but I’ve never ‘sensed’ anything spooky. Nothing I couldn’t blame on low-budget horror movies, anyway.”
“Are you serious?” Mallory stared in dismay. “I’m not talking about having a ‘bad dream.’ Ghost trauma —”
“Hey, lighten up,” Zoe interrupted. She gestured with her coffee but kept her voice down; the sidewalk was crowded with passersby. “What happened to you and Dalton in Mining Shaft Three was traumatic; I get that. But it’s been more than a year since, Mallory. Naming it ‘ghost trauma’ — it’s like you want to relive it, over and over.”
Mallory glanced away, fighting back a hot retort. C’mon, Dalton, now would be a good time to show up.
“Hold on a second.” Zoe clutched at Mallory’s arm, waiting until their eyes met. “You’re not talking about last year, are you?”
Mallory studied her worried face, debating. Zoe was a trusted confidant at Apex Bancorp, the only coworker she’d told about Dalton’s true lineage.
“I’m not ‘reliving’ anything, Zoe,” she said at last. “I’m trying to figure out what I’m currently sensing, and why.”
“Currently?” Zoe’s concern morphed into alarm. “As in, this very moment?”
Mallory nodded, shivering despite the warm evening. “This very moment.”
“Can you describe it? I’m not a Speaker-with-the-dead, obviously, but …”
“Hunger,” Mallory replied, searching for the right combination of words. “And rage. It’s like — I don’t know — a starving animal, goaded into a frenzy.”
Zoe’s eyes widened. “Anywhere specific, or just shows up randomly?”
“Always a little closer,” Mallory replied. Her gaze dropped to the sidewalk and she bit her lip. “Feels like it’s stalking me.”