Phantom by Retifer M. (best large ereader .txt) 📕

eyes, rubbing them when they start feeling yucky again. “I’m fine… Ss-Sam.”

She raises her eyebrows at me as if I’d just said something ludicrous. Which I guess I had.

“Ser’slee. ‘Nd it’s ectoplasm.” I frown at my garbled speech. “It’w’nt kill me…”

Knowing that ectoplasm is supposed to be acidic, I try not to end my sentence as a question, and I don’t know if Sam noticed or if she’s just humoring me by nodding her head. I decide to move on to the next topic.

“S…So… what d’ya m-mean I w’s a ghoa- ghost?” My tongue feels numb and I can’t get it to work properly.

She looks down at that and doesn’t say anything for a minute.

“When you came out of it- out of the portal… you looked weird.”

My brows knit in a frown, silently asking for her to elaborate.

“You… just- I don’t know how to explain it, you were just… you looked like a ghost- I mean, I’ve never seen a ghost before but that’s… that’s probably what it’d look like if-” She shakes her head, giving up on finding the right wording.

I wipe more gunk out of my eyes. She twists around for a minute and turns back around holding my partially melted milkshake; our meals from Nasty Burger are still on the coffee table.

“Here, you might wanna get the taste out of your mouth.”

I stare blankly before connecting the sick feeling and throwing up with what she said. I reach out to take the cup, but Sam makes an annoyed face, grabs another tissue and wipes my hand clean before placing the shake in it. She folds my fingers around it for me, like I can’t do it myself.

…okay, I won’t lie, I can’t do it myself.

“We need to get you help.”

The thought of going to the hospital gives me an inexplicable surge of anxiety.

“I’m fine.” I say way too fast. I blink at myself, wondering if I actually said that out loud or just thought it. “Jus’ need t’sleep.” I take a sip of my shake, letting it linger on my tongue to savour the taste and letting my eyes go unfocused.

“Really?” She flops onto the couch next to me, tissue box in hand. “You’re really giving me the ‘I just need to sleep it off’ bit?”

When I don’t say anything she grumbles.

“Danny, you just fell into- ectoplasm?- and got electrocuted. Your hazmat was burned so bad it was basically glued to your leg.” My eyes are flicking down before I can think about it, but I’m wrapped in a blanket and can’t see my legs. I look back up at her dumbfounded as she continues. “You screamed so loud, Danny. We-”

“Thought I w’s dead.” I say bluntly, chewing the straw and blinking at my milkshake. When did I scream? When I got electrocuted, or…?

“Yes. We did.” I can see her fight down a shudder. “It was so surreal.”

The word ‘we’ gets me to remember that there’s another person here and I look around.

Tucker is sitting by the stairs, his various electronics spread out on the ground in front of him, all of their screens black. He tosses his PDA to the ground, barely catching it before it lands on the carpet, and then places it more carefully in the lineup, muttering an apology.

“I think the energy the portal gave off when it turned on fried my stuff somehow.” He gestures to his collection after catching me staring blankly.

“I think it might’ve caused a blackout.” Sam says with a mix of humor and concern in her voice.

I tilt my head to look out the window and note that none of the streetlights are lighting up and every house is dark. The big FentonWorks sign is dark too, the street looking out of place without it glowing brightly in the dusk.

“Whoops.” I laugh, though it sounds more like a heavy breath.

Tucker scoops his tech up, putting each device in their own personal pocket of his cargo pants, and comes over into the living room.

“You sure you’re fine? You passed out earlier, and threw up a lot.”

“I did?” I only remember the puking part of that. “Wh’n’d I pass out?”

“Downstairs, when we were trying to…” He swallows, then continues. “…to get the hazmat off you.” He looks over his shoulder towards where the door to the lab would be through the wall. “I don’t know how long we were down there-”

“All the clocks stopped.” Sam says, staring at her fingers ripping holes in a tissue.

“-but we couldn’t move you ‘til you woke up so we just… sat with you.”

Tuck looks down at me harshly, though I doubt the look is directed at me. “I kept thinking you’d died, man. You stopped breathing a few times.”

“Stopped breathing?” I repeat softly, placing my cup back on the table. It seems heavier than it should be, and a lot less appetizing.

“I don’t know what I would’ve done if you’d died down there.” Tucker matches my tone.

He takes a seat on the far side of the couch and I let myself slide back down, nestling into the comforters and pillows.

Θ

I wake up when I hit the ground with a sickening crack. Or maybe it was when I let loose a strangled scream as I fell. Whatever, that doesn’t matter. Somehow, I am back in the lab. I fell into the lab and am now lying on the concrete again, but this time the cold isn’t appreciated.

I recover from getting the breath knocked out of me and gasp in pain, clutching my left arm. I roll over onto my stomach which heaves when I see the glowing towels and puke over by the portal. Had the portal always been that bright? It must be because it’s filled to the top with ectoplasm now, though I don’t remember it ever looking kind of like… a swirling galaxy actually.

Huh, that’s pretty cool.

Maybe comparing it to a whirlpool would be more appropriate- hot tub portal and all.

A lump beside the portal catches my eye. It’s glowing, just like the mess a few feet away from it, but it’s… it’s my hazmat, still covered in ectoplasm. It’s in horrible condition; the right pant leg is shredded at the thigh, everything below that missing completely. Someone definitely went ham on that and if my parents find out I ruined their specially made hazmat-

Well, I’ll be a ghost for real.

And then, for some weird reason, for the first time I notice that I’m missing something, and that something is lying beside the suit, just as wrecked if not more; my pants. My jeans are burned and the leg, where it’s cut off in strips, is glowing slightly; I don’t think a person wrecked those.

Wait. My pants… my pants are on the other side of the room. My pants-

I’m pant-less, as in wearing no pants. I am sans pants. I’m only wearing really dorky UFO boxers. Sam saw me with no pants on, hold on a second while I’m over here being utterly mortified.

But that doesn’t really matter when oh my god my leg.

Someone tried to bandage it. I don’t need to see under the wrapping to know that it’s really, really, really, most likely bad because it goes from my foot to my hip under my boxers and there is no way in hell that that is a good thing.

Ugh. It goes under my boxers. I wonder who did it.

Never mind that- I don’t wanna be around this mess; it’s making me feel ill again.

I use the lab table next to me as a crutch to stand up, leaning on my left leg. It’s like now that I’m aware of my leg it’s… not necessarily hurting, but just really uncomfortable to put weight on or move. Like when you accidentally scratch a chalkboard or something and it makes that god-awful sound that kills you in your soul, but instead it’s… a feeling. In my leg. It doesn’t hurt, but that doesn’t make it any less painful.

I hear Sam and Tuck stomping down the stairs, obviously, to add embarrassing insult to injury, having heard my scream.

“What happened!?” Sam bursts into the room, skipping the last few steps, properly dramatic as usual.

Tucker runs over. “Seriously, dude. What the heck?”

“Sorry.” I look up at the ceiling trying to decide on what to say. “Uh, I dunno.”

They both look up too, bewildered. I don’t know what they expect to see. There’s nothing there anyway.

“I fell.” I add, unhelpfully.

“Uh,” Sam looks back down at me. “You fell?”

“You scared the heck out of us because you tripped? You shouldn’t even be walking right now you idiot!”

I glare at Tuck. “No. I… fell.” I point lazily at the ceiling. “Fr’m there.”

“…What were you doing on the ceiling?” Tucker places his hand on his forehead as if looking at something from a distance and whistles as he looks up. “That’s like, fifteen feet, dude.”

“I wasn’t on the ceiling Tuck-” I cut off as I have no idea where I’m going with that. “I dunno. Jus’ woke up down here.”

“You okay?” Sam looks at me sympathetically, but the corner of her mouth twitches.

Laughing at me in this situation? Heartless. I try to stare at her as blankly as I can with my arm and leg as they are, and what I hope is eye boogers, but is probably ectoplasm, building up in my eyes.

“I’m guessing that’s a ‘I’m fine but not really’.” Tuck says. “Come on, let’s go back up, I doubt-”

He pats my arm and is cut off by my yelp. I stumble to the side away from his outstretched hand and hiss, holding my upper arm. There’s definitely going to be a bruise there in a minute.

“Crud, sorry!” He holds his hands up passively. “I didn’t hit you that hard, did I?” It might’ve been meant as a jab, but it’s more sincere.

“No, my arm’s jus’ mess’d up.” I grind my teeth and try to get my words right. “I land’d onit.”

“Ah, yes, the tumble.” Tuck nods his head and looks up suspiciously.

“I’m serious Tucker.” I celebrate internally as my words do not slur.

But my satisfaction is quickly interrupted by the fact that I am falling again. I hear Sam and Tucker make shocked noises as the floor drops out from under me and I once again land on the hard ground. My legs buckle immediately and I’m sprawled on the floor in the dark.

Crud, the Fenton Stockades. I forgot this room was here; I haven’t been down here in a few years and happily suppressed all memories of this place. I sit up and blink a few times, happily surprised that my eyes adjusted already; I didn’t want to fumble around in the dark. No, that can’t be right.

I rub my eyes, and stare at my hand, sickened. The goop coming out of my eyes is glowing. My stomach flip flops when I blink and feel it trickle down my face towards my mouth. I hastily wipe it away before it goes any further and look around.

The stairs, over there. I make my way towards them, sniffling. I wipe my eyes again, then lift my shirt up and wipe my entire face down. I can feel the sticky goo on my white shirt’s collar; that’ll definitely stain.

“Darn it.” I mutter as I make my way up the steps one at a time. I trip a couple times even though I was taking extra care to place my bare feet.

The door opens as I pull my foot up, almost falling over once more near the top. I wobble on my one good