Old Barn Ghosts

An injured soldier lay on the floor of the old barn where the Avery family was murdered. Their ghosts now wondered what to do with her.

“She’s young,” said Gramps, his voice like dry autumn leaves in the wind.

“Aye,” Pop replied, “hear they recruit as young as sixteen now.”

“Sixteen or a hundred, a murderer’s a murderer,” murmured Mama, clutching the bundle of cloth that once held a newborn. While their spirits lingered, tethered by time and hatred, the baby’s had slipped away, peaceful as can be. “I say we bring the whole barn down on her, just to show ‘em the Avery’s ain’t to be messed with.”

“And who would know us, Martha?” Asked Pop. “Who remembers us? We were but farmers – and if they came for us, I doubt our neighbors were spared. Nothin’ stands in the way of a hungry army.”

Mama ground her teeth, or she would have, had she teeth to grind. She felt a tugging at her not-skirts and looked down – the oldest daughter was there, her once golden hair a silvery outline in the night.

“Is she gonna die?” Asked the child.

“Dunno,” answered Pop, kneeling down to take a closer look. The soldier must have felt the death-cold swoosh of air pass over her, for she shivered in her fevered sleep. The wound in her shoulder oozed blood. “Doesn’t look good though.”

“And why should we care?” Mama snapped. “Let’er die. Then when she’s like us, I can give her a real arse-kicking for what her kind did.”

“One child is not to be blamed for a whole war,” said Gramps. “A uniform’s just that. She might ‘ave family.”

“And so did we!” Cried Mama. Her silhouette dissolved momentarily. The others waited for her to gather herself – this was not the first time. Waking up dead had been quite a shock to them all.

When Mama came back, she was crying. “They took my baby,” she whimpered. “They took everything.”

Pop patted Mama’s shoulder, much in the same way he did when they were alive and warm and solid. Their oldest girl hugged her parents around their not-middles. “I don’t want anyone else to die,” she said.

Pop looked to his father. “What could we even do? We’re dead.”

Gramps reached into his not-shirt pocket for his not-pipe and found it. “Aye,” he said, bringing the stem to his lips. “But even the dead can be mighty.”

The family went silent when they heard a voice outside. The whispers of the dead might scare the living, but it’s nothing compared to what the shouts of the living make the dead feel.

“Lieutenant Benson!” It shouted. “Lieutenant Benson! Anna! Where are you?”

The Avery’s looked at each other, then down at the young woman bleeding at their feet. She’d stirred again, just a slight roll of her head, furrowing of her brow. There was no way she would be found in time.

Gramps looked at Pop and Mama, then down at his little grandchild. “Listen’ ta me,” he said. “What if we stayed behind ‘cuz we’re supposed to save this girl, huh? What if God wants us to save her so she and her fellows out there can end this war, bring peace at last?”

They took in the sight of their ruined barn for the thousandth time, letting Gramps words settle over them like a blanket. The roof had been partially blown off; the doors kicked in, the walls stripped of wood for fires. Their bodies lay side by side under a tarp in the far corner, still mostly undisturbed after all these months. Even the crows seemed to not want to come here, face the grisly sight of slaughter.

Despite being so open to the elements, it was the dry season. The concrete floor was still streaked with blood, theirs and now this girl’s – Anna’s.

“And what if,” Mama said, voice quiet as the grave. “We save her, just for her to die somewhere else?”

Gramps sighed, and again, the girl shivered. He took Mama’s not-hand. “This place has seen enough death, dontcha think?”

From outside, they could hear the soldier still calling for his fallen comrade. He wasn’t getting closer, but he wasn’t moving too far away either. He probably couldn’t even see the barn standing against the night, not in this starless darkness.

Pop raised his not-head to what remained of the ceiling, the others following suit. They hadn’t had much in the way of electricity, but the single halogen bulb high up in the rafters was still there, still intact. It had been too high for the soldiers to reach or even notice, and too far away from the blast to get knocked loose.

They’d been so proud of that little bulb, connected to the wires that connected to the little generator outside. One small step into the modern age. There had been plans for more, of course, but… Well. Now there was no need.

Gramps grasped Pop’s hand, and the little girl took Pop and Mama’s other hands. Mama was forced to drop the bundle of not-cloth that had once held her baby. It fell to the bloody floor, lingered for a moment, then disappeared as if it never were. Mama’s face twisted in grief as she watched the last memory of her baby fade, but still she brought her daughter’s little fingers up to her lips for a not-kiss.

She looked at her family. “I think I’d like to rest,” she said. Everyone agreed.

Pops gazed down at the soldier one last time. “If you can hear me,” he said, “Please tell your friends to… to give my family a proper burial.”

As one, the souls of the Avery family floated up, up, up…

Outside, Sargent Daniels fell to his knees, voice hoarse from shouting. He’d been looking all night and hadn’t even found a scrap of her uniform.

Anna was gone, dead and alone in the dark. He’d sworn to protect her, and he’d failed.

Head in his hands, scream of defeat rising to the back of his throat - that’s when he saw it. Something flashed in the darkness off to his left, something bright and sudden like a grenade or a flare. When darkness fell again, he was on his feet sprinting towards what looked like the remains of an old barn with renewed hope in his heart.