T Minus Sixty-One Days

For her thirteenth birthday, Emily English received, among other things, her first phone (that wasn’t a hand-me-down), a jacket (faux leather), and a poltergeist.

The phone was a gift from her parents. She’d been asking for a mobile phone of her own since her last birthday. It lasted for three years before it failed for good.

The jacket was a gift from her big sister, Zoe. They had visited the mall together the previous week, and her sister had noticed her looking at it repeatedly. She kept the jacket until it vanished under mysterious circumstances, almost thirteen years later.

The poltergeist showed up on its own, uninvited. Emily didn’t even know it was there, at first, despite the incident with the cake. The average ‘lifespan’ of a poltergeist is around five weeks, at which point it self-destructs in a flurry of violence that rapidly increases with its age. Previously, the longest-lived confirmed poltergeist lasted fifty-seven days. Its death throes leveled most of a city block.

Emily’s lasted sixty-one.

T Minus Fifty-Three Days

On the morning of day eight Emily figured out she had a poltergeist, when her alarm clock flung itself across the room. The previous morning it had fallen off of her nightstand, but she had assumed she had just knocked it off while trying to hit snooze. This morning, however, she was sure she hadn’t even touched it.

At first she thought that she’d been marked. That wouldn’t be the worst thing ever. Who wouldn’t want telekinesis?  But a thorough inspection in her full length mirror showed no sign of a mark. Also, she couldn’t cause the clock (or anything else) to move by willing it. She only gave up trying when hunger got the better of her and she went to the kitchen in search of breakfast.

That evening, she searched the internet. The first five pages of hits she got for “objects moving by themselves” were all about telekinesis and various telekinetic supers. On the sixth page she found the Parapedia article on poltergeists.

From the article, she learned about the short, destructive “lifecycle” of the poltergeist. She also learned that they seemed to be very protective of their hosts. A poltergeist would react (or overreact) to any threat to its host with violence. Unfortunately, the host’s fear and anger were interpreted as responses to threats, and it would target the subject of the emotion. When no target was available, the poltergeist would lash out randomly.

The Parapedia article recommended that, due to the dangers presented, anyone suspecting that they were host to a poltergeist should report to the Bureau of Metanormal Phenomena. The article didn’t say what would happen next, but the idea of getting the government involved made Emily a little nervous. She closed the web page and decided not to do any more research on her own computer.

Over the next two days her clock went flying two more times, a stuck zipper on her backpack ending up being ripped entirely free, and the neighbor’s overly territorial dog got shoved half-way across its yard when it lunged at her as she walked by. She decided that she definitely had a poltergeist. Or perhaps a poltergeist had her, given that there was supposed to be no way to get rid of one until its eventual violent end.

T Minus Fifty-One Days

On Monday, she used the computer at her school library to continue her research. She found several news articles about poltergeists, mostly about those that had gone out with a large bang. One thing that stood out, though, was that although the stories had popped up six or seven times a year until five years ago, there had been only six since.

Some digging on the history page of the Parapedia article yielded links to several websites dedicated to some pretty crazy-seeming conspiracy theories. There was one post on a paranormal-themed blog, though, that caught Emily’s eye. It was posted by someone calling themself “Spirited Away.” It was vague in parts, but something about it seemed genuine to Emily.

I became haunted a few years ago. I hope you will forgive me for being imprecise, but I don’t want to give the government any unnecessary help in tying this back to me. I’m not sure what they would do to me.

Once I realized that I was haunted by a poltergeist, I called the Bureau of Metanormal Phenomena. I hoped that they would be able to help me rid myself of the thing before it became too dangerous. The agent I talked to asked me some questions that seemed intended to verify that I was truly haunted. At the end of the call, she said that she would get back to me shortly.

The next morning, instead of waking in my own bed, I woke up in a strange, windowless apartment. I have to admit that I became somewhat agitated, and the spirit lashed out at my surroundings. That’s when I realized that the furnishings of the apartment, and the apartment itself, were considerably more resilient than they appeared. The outburst did little to no harm.

Shortly after that, a voice came over a concealed speaker. It explained that I was being held here for my own safety, and that of others. When I asked how long my detention would last, I was informed that I would be detained as long as the poltergeist remained “imprinted” on me.

While I was held, I was provided decent food, television, and whatever books I requested. I was not allowed any direct contact with the outside world, or even allowed to see other people. The voice only spoke to answer my questions, and not always then.

As time passed, I became more aware of the poltergeist. I could sense its presence even when it was not active. It felt like something was watching over me. I could also feel my own anger, frustration, and fear echoed back from it, as if it were a mirror for my emotions.

Over time, its outburst became more frequent, and more powerful. Near the end, even the smallest thing could set it off. Since my emotions rarely had a visible target, my surroundings took the brunt of the attacks. Eventually, the apartment and its furnishings began to show wear and tear from the abuse.

Three weeks after I was kidnapped, I was carrying my dinner from the dumbwaiter, where the food always arrived, to the table, when I tripped and the food went all over the floor. My initial reaction was just mild annoyance and frustration, but I could feel those feelings reflecting from the poltergeist, and I became more annoyed, this time at the poltergeist, rather than myself or my jailers.

The reflection I was getting from the poltergeist seemed even stronger than my own emotions, and I could feel the annoyance and frustration becoming anger. I tried to calm myself, but it did no good. The poltergeist and I were caught in a feedback loop, like a PA system’s microphone held too close to its speaker.

Objects began flying across the room. The sofa, which I had been unable to budge, ripped free from the bolts holding it to the floor, and smashed into a wall. I had never been truly afraid of the poltergeist before, since it never seemed to lash out at me, but this new intensity scared me.

The fear intensified the feedback. Although my frustration had been entirely replaced by anger, and now fear, I began to feel something very much like frustration from the entity. I don’t know how long the outburst lasted, but in the end, I could feel the poltergeist tear itself apart. I think it might have been protecting me from itself.

I don’t think that I lost consciousness, but I was not aware of time passing for a while.

When I could speak again, I announced that the poltergeist was gone. I don’t know if they heard me, because I didn’t receive an answer. The bedroom remained mostly intact, so I laid down on the bed and was asleep within minutes.

When I woke up, the worst of the damage had been, if not actually repaired, patched over. I announced again that the poltergeist was gone. The voice informed me that I would need to be kept under observation for a time, just to be sure.

A week later I woke up back in my own bed. There was a computer print-out of a cover story for where I had been, with an admonition that I should stick to that story, and tell no one what really happened. For a long time, I took that to heart.

Finally, though, I had to tell someone. The durations I mention above may not be entirely accurate. By this time, I believe enough people have been subjected to what I was that I will not be able to be identified from this story. I’m willing to take that chance.

—Spirited Away—

Emily didn’t know whether to believe the story or not. She hadn’t felt anything like the connection the story described, but the poltergeist hadn’t been with her all that long. Overall, it seemed unlikely, but there was the fact that reports had pretty much stopped five years ago.

This presented a problem. She did not want to be locked up somewhere for months, waiting for her poltergeist to go out in a blaze of petulance, but she also didn’t want to endanger the people around her. So far the worst things that had happened were a busted alarm clock and a traumatized dog, and it looked like there shouldn’t be any real danger for at least a couple of weeks, so she had some time to think it over.

One thing she could do, though, was start taking her meditation more seriously again. Two years ago, her therapist, Ms. Fletcher, had recommended meditation as a way to help Emily deal with her anger. When Emily resisted the idea, Ms. Fletcher had pointed her toward Tai Chi. Emily resisted that, too, but was talked into starting Aikido lessons with her cousin, Ann.

Their instructor, Sensei Lee, had convinced both of them to take up meditation alongside Aikido. Ann quickly gave up on the meditation, finding it boring. Emily, though, found it very helpful, and had only slacked off on it recently, as her schedule got busier and she couldn’t fit in both the Aikido and daily meditation sessions.

Until now, she hadn’t felt that she really needed it anymore. With the poltergeist hanging around, though, she needed more than ever to make sure that she kept her emotions on an even keel. She didn’t want to risk causing someone serious harm just because she got angry at them.

That night she set her new alarm clock for a half hour earlier than usual (a half hour of meditation would be better than none), and put it on a pillow across the room from her bed.

T Minus Fifty Days

The new clock survived its first alarm without incident.

Emily ate a quick breakfast, and used the extra time to sit zazen. Toward the end of her meditation, she could almost feel another presence in her room, but the feeling vanished when her phone beeped to remind her to go catch the bus.

That evening she left herself time at the end of the day for more meditation. She knew she was trying too hard, but just couldn’t relax and get into the right frame of mind. She went to bed late and unsuccessful.

T Minus Forty-Eight Days

Emily worked on her homework at her desk, next to her open window. The screen had holes, but soon it was going to be too hot to have the window open, even in the evening, and she wanted to enjoy it while she could.

She had just become aware of the buzzing of a mosquito when her whole desk bounced with a loud thud. There on the top piece of paper was the mosquito, squashed completely flat.

“Not subtle,” Emily muttered, “but useful.”

Still, she closed the window.

T Minus Forty-Six Days

It was the weekend before she felt the presence during meditation again. The new alarm clock’s much less abrasive alarm hadn’t annoyed her enough to set off the poltergeist. Nor had anything else. By Saturday, she was beginning to wonder if she had imagined the whole thing.

She was, if not exactly enjoying, at least appreciating, her meditation, when it was interrupted by her mom’s voice through her bedroom door.

“Emily, your homework is spread all over the dining table, and I’m trying to set it for breakfast. Come clean it up, please.”

Emily felt a spark of anger at being startled out of her meditation, and she felt that anger reflected back at her. There was a bang and her door shook as if struck.

Emily leapt to her feet and threw open the door. Her mother was standing a couple feet away, looking startled.

“Sorry, Mom. I tripped. I’ll get my stuff off the table right now.”

She hurried past her mother, toward the dining room.

The poltergeist was definitely real.

Emily needed a plan.

T Minus Forty-Three Days

Tuesday evening—Aikido time. Emily had missed both classes the previous week, and was anxious to get back into it.

She left home early and took a winding route through her neighborhood on her bicycle. She had spent much of the weekend and the previous afternoon exploring the nearby park, and the fields and woods in and around the neighborhood, and this was an opportunity to look for more isolated spots.

She had also spent a good chunk of the past few days meditating. After several more sessions (each after making sure that any pressing household chores were done), Emily could sense the presence of the poltergeist just by closing her eyes and clearing her mind for a moment. This led her to her plan.

In her explorations, she had found several spots that she could get to in a matter of minutes if the thing would not be calmed. Each spot was far enough away from nearby houses and the usual park-goers that there would be nothing important for the poltergeist to damage.

She was sure that with a little more practice she could be aware of the poltergeist any time she wanted. Once she could do that, she could monitor its mood, and calm herself (and hopefully it), if she sensed that it was going to do something. With continued practice, she was sure that she could keep up with its growing strength for the month or so it was likely to last. She might even get lucky. Half of the poltergeists had to last less than the average time, right?

The big question was what to tell her moms. If they knew about the poltergeist, they might feel like they had to tell the authorities— for Emily’s own safety, if nothing else. She knew they’d feel guilty about it if they did tell, but they were both, especially Mum, a little on the overcautious side.

On the other hand, if they didn’t tell, they might get in trouble for not reporting her, if anyone did find out about the poltergeist. She wasn’t sure what kind of trouble, but no one really wants to get in trouble with the government, and the BMP could be particularly harsh.

Overall, it was best for everyone concerned if she kept this to herself. At least for now. If things did start getting out of hand, she could always tell them then.

Emily arrived at the dojo just in time to join the students preparing to sit zazen. Emily waved to Max, the senior student leading the group. Max was around Emily’s age, but was first kyu, to Emily’s sixth. She was also the sensei’s daughter, and one of Emily’s best friends.

Emily had trouble getting into the right frame of mind for meditation. Each time she would start to relax, she would feel something like agitation from the poltergeist; a sort of heightened alertness. Whereas she had been sitting successfully in her room for several days in a row, it was all she could do to hold still here. She just hoped that she wasn’t disturbing her fellow students.

Meditation ended with the arrival of the sensei.

Emily was lining up with the other students, when it hit her. What if the poltergeist couldn’t tell that the practice was just practice, and not real fighting? She couldn’t risk that.

She slipped out the door while the rest of the class was lining up on the tatami.

Emily was unchaining her bicycle when she was startled by a hand on her shoulder. Before she could react further, the hand jerked away. She spun around just in time to see Max rolling to her feet, a couple of yards away.

“I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” Emily stepped toward Max.

“How did you do that?” Max took a step back, dusting herself off.

Emily sighed, “Have you heard of poltergeists?”

E

“Shouldn’t you tell somebody?” Max asked, after Emily had brought her up to speed, “I mean, if it’s going to explode, someone could get hurt.”

“I’ve got that covered.” Emily explained , “I have places picked out near home and school where I can go and be away from people, or anything else I wouldn’t want to damage.”

“That’s not much of a plan,” said Max, “What if you can’t get away in time and it goes critical?”

“As long as I can get outside and at least twenty to thirty feet away from anyone, It’ll be fine. At least for a couple more weeks. If it lasts longer than that, I can alway tell someone then.”

Max looked dubious, but dropped that line of questioning, for the moment.

“But what if someone else startles you?”

Emily considered the question. “I guess I better work on not being startled.”

“You really should tell someone.”

“I don’t want to be locked up for weeks or months, though. Please don’t tell anyone. I’ll be really careful.”

“I’ll think about it. I promise to at least give you a chance to tell first. Okay?”

“Okay,” replied Emily, “Thanks.”

“I better get back to class.”

Emily watched Max for a moment, then finished unchaining her bike.

T Minus Forty-Two Days

When Emily turned on her phone after school the next day, she had a text.

Max: Meet me at dojo 4:15

After okaying it with her mom (while managing not to be too specific), Emily biked from school to the dojo. On the way she continued her survey for safe places to retreat to, in case of poltergeist problems. She spotted a couple of new possibilities, and made a mental note to check them out further, later.

When she arrived at the dojo, Max was waiting.

Emily was the first to speak. “Well?” she said.

Max sighed, then said, “I won’t tell anyone—“

“Oh, thank you! thank you! thank you!” Emily interrupted.

Max waited for her to finish, before continuing, “I won’t tell anyone, under a couple of conditions.”

“What conditions?”

“First, if things look like they’re getting out of hand, I can, and will change my mind. It’s not going to be my fault if people get hurt by this thing.”

“Okay. That’s reasonable, I guess. You’ll still give me the chance to tell first, though, right?”

“Sure.”

“And the other condition?” Emily couldn’t take the suspense.

“You come meditate and practice with me at least four times a week.” Max held up a hand when Emily started to talk. “You need to work on not being startled, and sparring should let us keep track of how powerful it’s getting.”

Emily thought it over.

“If it looks like you might get hurt we have to stop sparring.”

“That’s fair.”

T Minus Thirty-Two Days

“So, four weeks?” Max asked.

“Yeah, four weeks yesterday,” Emily replied.

They had just finished sitting zazen in one of the side rooms of the dojo.

“Any trouble since Thursday?”

“Not really, no. How’s your arm?”

Max extended her arm and twisted it back and forth.  “It’s fine. It wasn’t even a sprain.”

They stretched for a minute in silence.

“How strong is it now?” Max finally asked.

“I’m not sure. I haven’t been stuck where there was anything to really hurt in more than a week.”

“We should find out, then.”

“How?”

“Come on.” Max led the way to their bikes.

E

Emily leaned her bike against the other side of the same tree where Max had leaned hers. She looked at the fence just beyond the tree. “What’s here?”

Max shrugged, then gestured at the barren ground that stretched into the distance on the other side of the fence.  “Nothing. That’s the point.”

“But what is this place?”

“I don’t know. I just found it on online maps. It looks like an old gravel quarry, or something.”

With that, Max stepped over a fallen section of fence.

Emily followed her about a hundred feet across the barren ground. They stopped next to a cluster of four empty barrels, lying on their sides.

“What now?”

Max paced around, slowly getting farther from Emily. “You get mad.”

“Oh come one, I can’t just get mad.”

“Sure you can. Think about all the things that have pissed you off in the past two or three weeks, that you have had to just get over because of this stupid thing.”

“It hasn’t been that bad.”

“If you can’t show me it’s not that dangerous, it’s time to tell someone.”

“You promised.”

Max drifted further from Emily as she said, “I said I would give you the chance to tell first. I’ll give you one day.”

“That’s not fair!”

Dust was swirling around Emily now.

Max laughed, “Fair? What does fair have to do with it? Are you trying to get someone hurt?”

Emily’s fists clenched. Small rocks joined the swirling dust.

Then, her shoulders slumped. Her fists opened. “Nice try,” she said.

Max shrugged. It had almost worked.

“You could have gotten hurt,” Emily continued.

Max lifted a foot. “I’ve got my running shoes on. I was ready to haul out.”

Emily snorted.

After a moment — “I think I might be able to do it,” she rushed on before Max could respond, “but you’ll need to wait over there.”

She pointed to a low mount of dirt and rocks, a hundred or so feet away.

“All the way over there?” Max was skeptical. “Come on.”

Emily just kept pointing.

“Fine.”

Max walked past the barrels to the mound. She looked back at Emily. Emily waited. Max walked around behind the mound. It was a little shorter than her, so she could just see over it without climbing onto it at all.

Emily closed her eyes.

She thought about all the times she had held back her anger recently. Not just since the poltergeist showed up, but over the last year. She thought about the kids who gave her a hard time at school because her family didn’t have as much money as the other families.

Her fists clenched.

She thought about her biological mother, who would randomly show up and expect to be treated as if she were Emily’s real Mom. She pictured Lizzy Hitchens, who had laughed at her when she’d come to school with her hair cut short. It wasn’t fair. How could people be so mean, and unreasonable? Other kids had the latest phones, not an out-of-date refurb. Other kids didn’t get laughed at for being different. Other kids didn’t have an absent parent drifting into their lives at random intervals. Other kids could get angry without having to worry about unleashing a weapon of mass destruction.

It. Just. Wasn’t. Fair!

She could feel her anger and frustration reflecting back to her. Echoing. Amplifying. She could feel the presence of the poltergeist, seething with her reflected emotions, seeking some outlet.

She opened her eyes. Directly in front of her were the four barrels. BOOM!

It was like a bomb had gone off. Emily threw her arms over her eyes. Rusted chunks of metal rained down for a few seconds, but none hit her. The force of the outburst had been directed away from her.

Away from her, toward…

“Max!” Emily screamed, uncovering her eyes.

“Are you done!?” Max’s voice came from the other side of the mound of earth.

“I think so.”

Max’s head appeared above the mound. “Well,” she said, “That worked.”

E

Emily and Max sat at Emily’s dining table.

“So,” Max started.

Emily waited.

“Don’t you think it’s time to tell someone else?”

“What? No!” Emily replied.

“Emily, you saw what it did to those barrels. What if that happened around people?”

“But it won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Something’s different. It’s almost like it’s asleep now. Well, not asleep, but resting.”

“So that tired it out?” Max asked.

“Not tired it out, exactly,” Emily replied, “It’s more like it’s, I don’t know, full. For the moment. I think it would take more than me getting mad to set it off right now.”

“How do you know?”

“I just sort of feel it. I don’t know if the connection is getting stronger, or just more familiar.”

“But don’t you think it will wake back up?”

“Sure it will, but now we know what to do.”

Max waited.

“I just need to go out there every afternoon and get mad. Let it all out.”

“And you think that will work?”

“If it looks like it won’t, I’ll tell my moms. I promise.”

T Minus Twenty Days

“Are these right?” Emily held up a handful of straw, about three and a half feet long.

Max looked at them. “Close enough,” she replied, “They don’t have to be exact. We’ll trim them once they’re woven together.”

They were sitting on the ground behind the dojo, preparing materials to make some new tatami for the dojo floor. Max was sorting rush straw into two piles. The nicer straw would be used to make the covers, while the bent, broken, or discolored straw would be used as part of the padding. Emily was cutting the straw to the right length with a large knife.

“You know,“ said Emily, “You can buy perfectly good mats online. There’s probably even some place local you could get them.”

“It’s not the same.”

“I guess. Ugh, go away!”

“What?”

“Not you. Sorry,” Emily replied, “It’s worked up. It keeps pushing right up against me.”

She could feel it swirling around, not quite touching her. If she concentrated, she could hold it at bay by thinking at it. It was annoying.

“That’s annoying.”

“Tell me about it,” Emily said, “Hey that’s cool.”

Emily was looking at the handful of straw Max was examining. Where most of it was a brownish yellow, the handful Max was holding up had a definite red tinge. Emily looked up, and the knife slipped, drawing a red line across her left hand.

“Ow! Dang!”

The knife jerked out of Emily’s hand and buried itself in the concrete. Blood was starting to well up from the cut.

“Hey, are you okay? What…” Max trailed off. The air shimmered around Emily’s injury.

“I slipped and it overreacted as usual.”

“Look at your hand.”

Emily looked. The shimmering touched her hand and her world went white.

FAILURE | [unknown] WILL BE/IS/WAS DAMAGED | PROTECT/REPAIR

Emily could feel the thing’s, not thoughts, not exactly, but something like them. She could feel it, not just the small part of it that had slid into the wound, but the whole thing. It stretched away from her in directions she couldn’t understand. Its senses overwhelmed her own. It was too strange. Too alien. Too much.

With an act of will, she pushed it away. It resisted, trying to finish its repairs, but Emily refused to relent.

It slipped free, and the contact broke. Emily’s own senses returned. For a moment, the world seemed dull and flat.

“What the hell was that all about?” asked Max.

Emily held up her hand. Half the cut was closed, the edges tight against one another, in not quite perfect alignment. The rest of the cut was clean, but beginning to ooze blood.

“We should clean that up,” Max said.

E

“It’s not all here.” Emily finished taping the bandage on her hand.

“That’s for sure.”

“No, I mean it’s not all here. The part here is only, well, part. There are other parts of it in other places.”

“Like where?”

“I don’t know, exactly. I got an impression of a forest, and of an apartment that felt like it was deep underground. Or it might have been several apartments.”

“Like the one in the blog post?”

“Maybe. There were other people, too.”

“How many?”

“I don’t know. Three, maybe four? They blurred together. I think we all look alike to it.”

“So there’s only one poltergeist, it’s just in a lot of places at once?”

“I think so.”

“So are you ready to call someone yet?”

Emily was not.

T Minus Three Days

“I’m sorry, I should have listened to you.”

Emily was sitting on a boulder at the quarry, talking on her phone.

“It’s not too late, we can still call the BMP,” Max replied.

Dust and pebbles slid along the ground around Emily.

“No. We can’t. I tried to call yesterday from a payphone at the library—”

“There’s a payphone at the library?”

“Not anymore.”

The payphone had imploded as Emily approached. She hadn’t even been sure she was going to call. She just knew that she wanted to use the payphone so the call couldn’t be traced to her if she changed her mind.

“Wait, it can read your mind?”

“I don’t think so. I think it saw what I was going to do.”

“So it can see the future.”

“Kind of. I think it’s sort of smeared out in time.”

“Well, then I could call for you—”

“No! If they came and tried to take me, somebody would get hurt, maybe even killed.”

“What about the Cavaliers? I bet Tiara—”

“No. It can’t last more than a couple more days. There’s only one more part of it left. It got stronger when the other parts burnt out.”

“Just how powerful is it now?”

Emily looked at the ten foot deep crater in front of her.

“Powerful enough.”

T Minus Two Days

“Worst camp-out ever,” Emily muttered to herself.

She was alone under a tree near the quarry. The tent she had borrowed from Max was set up next to her, and she was alone, except for the last piece of the poltergeist.

It had to end soon. The poltergeist had already lasted longer than any other that she could find on record. It’s last outburst, yesterday at the quarry hadn’t even been an explosion. Instead, the rock cliff she had been facing had just collapsed into fine, silt-like dust. Somehow, that was scarier.

Emily had told her moms she was going on a camping trip with Max.  Max had been reluctant to cover for her, but after Emily had described what happened to the cliff, she gave in. The only option was to wait it out.

Strangely, she didn’t hate the poltergeist. She wasn’t even really angry at it anymore, not most of the time. It wasn’t trying to ruin her life. It was trying to protect her. In its own weird, inhuman way, it cared about her. No, she didn’t hate it. She just wanted it gone.

But that wouldn’t fix things. From everything she’d turned up, combined with what she could sense from it, that would just restart the cycle. The poltergeist would split again, and imprint on who knew how many other people. Some of those would never even know it was there before it went away, but a few would have to deal with its outbursts. Maybe some of them wouldn’t be as careful as she had been.

There was no good answer. It was going to blow soon, and there was nothing she could do about it. It wasn’t like turning herself into the BMP would do any good. But maybe it wouldn’t do any harm, either. Unless…

She pulled Max’s phone out of her backpack. They’d traded, in case her Moms felt the need to check up on her location. The couple of times they’d called, Max had done a three way call and they were none the wiser.

“Is it gone?” Max picked up before the first ring was done.

“No. I just needed to talk.”

“I thought you wanted to save the battery.”

“I’m still at sixty percent, and I’ve got the spare. This can’t go longer than that.”

“What if it does?”

That led to the argument again. Max could not understand why Emily wouldn’t let her call someone. The BMP, the Cavaliers. Somebody.

“What if they get hurt? What if it kills one of them?”

“They’re superheroes. They can handle a poltergeist with delusions of grandeur.”

“But what if they kill it?” Emily almost whispered.

“They—”

There was a moment of silence as Max processed.

“Wait. What?”

Emily told Max what she’d been thinking about. BMP had been holding people haunted by the poltergeists for a few years now. They didn’t seem to have been able to do anything to break the cycle. But now it was united, all in one entity, here, with Emily.

“So, maybe they could actually do something!” Max said, “Lock it up!”

“Or, like I said, kill it.”

“Would that be the worst thing?”

Not the worst thing, but bad enough. Emily just knew she didn’t want it hurt, anymore than she wanted it to hurt anyone else.

“I better save the battery.”

“G’night.”

“Good night.”

T Minus Zero Days

Emily looked at her tent floor, right next to the flap. Apparently she hadn’t closed it well last night, because there was a pile of dust or dirt there. She looked closer. Ugh. It was the remains of hundreds of mosquitos and other insects. Each one looked like it had been sliced in half by a microscopic scalpel. She brushed them out of the tent with the bottom of her shoe as she stepped out.

It was a pretty morning out. Muggy, because of the Texas summer, but not too bad. She wandered out of the stand of trees where she’d hidden the tent, out into the old quarry. She had been over it many times over the last few weeks, but she didn’t have anything better to do. She’d read all of the books she brought, and her borrowed phone was nearly out of charge, even with the backup battery.

When she passed a pipe sticking up out of the ground she stopped. She picked up a stick and tapped on the pipe. It had a nice tone. She reached out to cover the end of the pipe with her hand but stopped when she felt the poltergeist activating. She looked more closely at the pipe, then brought the stick down on the end. The pipe edge gouged a chunk out of the stick. Sharp.

She tensed up an instant before the swirling started again. The poltergeist was agitated.

“I got the message, okay?”

Dust began to whip up all around her, soon leaving her in the eye of her own little tornado. Something bigger was happening. Something was coming.

She pulled out Max’s phone and hit answer before the first ring finished.

“What did you do?” Emily asked. This wasn’t the time for hellos.

“I didn’t call the BMP,” Max replied.

“Who, then?”

Emily tried to see through the dust. The poltergeist must be trying to conceal her from whoever it was.

“I got through to the Cavaliers.”

“You promised!”

“You need help. When it blows—”

“It won’t hurt me! And I’m far enough away from anything, nobody else will—”

“You don’t know that!”

“They might get hurt.”

Emily had won the argument before. Again, and again. Not this time.

“It’s too late.“

Emily didn’t answer. She just put the phone away.

“Hello?” she yelled.

For a moment, nothing, then, “Emily English, are you in there?” a woman’s voice spoke. It was audible over the sound of the poltergeist’s whirlwind, but it didn’t sound like she was yelling.

After a moment, Emily recognized the voice. She’d heard it on television often enough. It was Tiara, hero of the Invasion and leader of one of the world’s only actual super teams, The Cavaliers.

“I’m here!” Emily shouted, “You should leave!”

“We’re here to help,” another voice boomed. This one sounded like it was being amplified by a PA system.

Emily was pretty sure that was The Wizard. Another member of the team. Apparently they were taking this seriously, sending their two most powerful members.

“I’ll be fine! I don’t want anyone to get hurt!”

Emily could feel her own fear and anxiety reflecting off the poltergeist, amplifying. It was building fast. This was it. It was going to blow.

“We can’t leave you here,” the Wizard’s voice boomed again, “We don’t know—oof”

He was cut off with a crash of static. Over the wind, Emily could hear Tiara’s voice, chanting something. She could feel the poltergeist’s energy gathering in reaction. She had to do something. This was all because it was trying to protect her.

She looked at the pipe in front of her. It was trying to protect her. Without taking a moment to think, she slammed her right hand down onto the pipe and twisted. The pain was enormous. She felt the metal bite into a circle on her palm.

The dust stopped circling and began to fall to the ground as the poltergeist rushed to Emily’s hand. She didn’t push it away this time. Instead she pulled. The world shifted, like it had before. Everything was different.

FAILURE | [EMILY] WILL BE/IS/WAS DAMAGED | WILL BE/IS/WAS REPAIRED | [unknown] THREAT WILL BE/IS/WAS REMOVED

Emily could see two figures kneeling over another a hundred or so feet away. Off to one side, floating in the air, she could see Tiara. She was surrounded by a shimmering bubble and waving her hands in an intricate pattern. Emily was linked to the poltergeist now. Part of it had flowed into her wound, but so much of it was still outside. And that part was preparing to strike Tiara.

She pulled her hand free of the pipe, and slammed her other one onto it. Another circle of pain flared. Another part of the poltergeist pushed at the wound, but Emily pushed it away. Instead she pulled at the part that was already connected to her right hand. More of the poltergeist flowed in. Her right hand was almost healed. She pushed the poltergeist away from the edges of the wound. Held it open by force of will.

The figure on the ground got to one knee and pointed a device above Emily’s head. The poltergeist lashed out and the device exploded, sending the man and the two people near him flying. It was too powerful, it could heal her hands and fight at the same time.

The poltergeist sensed what she was going to do next and tried to disintegrate the potential danger, but with it so close to her, Emily was able to hold it off just long enough to throw herself onto the pipe. It jammed into her abdomen. The pain broke her concentration for a moment, and the pipe went away.

Emily pulled with all her willpower. She pulled the poltergeist in, but wouldn’t let it touch the wound. She wouldn’t let it heal her. It fought her. It brought more of itself to bear. Emily persisted. Her world was pain, and the confusing sensory impressions she could get through the parts of the poltergeist that remained outside.

It wanted to repair her. It had to.  Emily let it in, but wouldn’t let it fulfill its purpose. Her body was vibrating with its energy.

REPAIR

Emily pictured the poltergeist as a cloud. Pictured the last of it being pulled into her body. Somehow it got the message. She let it heal her hands. RELIEF. She let it heal the entry wound under her rib cage.

RELIEF!

She heard voices, but could barely make them out.

“Where’d it go?”

“Is she okay?”

“Stay back!” Emily yelled. She thought she did, anyway.

She didn’t have the will to keep the poltergeist from finishing its repairs. The pain of the wounds was gone, but her whole body felt like it was on fire. There was too much energy. It was burning her up from the inside. It tried to leave her, to save her. She wouldn’t let it.

She was expanding. She was going to explode. She could feel the poltergeist in her skin, in her bones, in her brain. She would not let go. FLEE She would not let go. PROTECT She would—

BECOME

T Plus Ten Minutes

Emily woke up to find an unfamiliar familiar face looking down at her.

“Tiara?” She asked.

She vaguely remembered hearing Tiara’s voice recently, but she couldn’t quite nail down when.

“Are you alright?”

That was a tough question.  Emily wasn’t sure how to answer it. Nothing hurt, but everything felt odd, and she couldn’t remember why she was lying on the ground.

“Why are you here?”

Emily was even more curious about why she herself was here, and where here was, but she wasn’t quite ready to admit that she didn’t already have that information.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Tiara asked.

It was hard to focus on that question. It was hard to focus on anything, because she could feel her hair. She could feel her finger and toe nails. She could feel her teeth. That is, she could feel her teeth with her tongue and her tongue with her teeth.

What was the question again?

What was the last thing she remembered? She remembered Tiara asking her if she was injured.

“Are you hurt?” Tiara asked.

No, it was Tiara asking if she was hurt. That’s what it was.

“Didn’t I already answer that?” Emily shook her head. “No, I don’t hurt anywhere. I feel sort of weird, though.”

“That’s not surprising. You don’t have any significant injuries, so do you think you’re ready to try sitting up?”

Emily was pretty sure she was already sitting up, but she sat up again anyway. That was better. Things were a little less confusing. Now she could see around her with her eyes. She recognized this place. She had hung out here with Max.

Everything came rushing back to her. The poltergeist. The camping in the empty, graveled field. Tiara and The Wizard arriving right as the poltergeist started to go critical. Trying to protect the heroes from the poltergeist and the poltergeist from the heroes.

She remembered the pain.

“What happened to it?” Emily asked.

“As far as I can tell, it dissipated, as they always do in the end.”

“Are you sure?”

“I can’t be positive. I’ve never found a way to detect one. Can you feel it?”

Emily shook her head, then looked around. “Shouldn’t there be more damage, then?”

“Whatever you did seems to have minimized it.”

Emily remembered slamming each hand onto the pipe, and twisting. She remembered throwing herself onto it. That hurt. She looked at her right hand. There was a very faint ring of scar tissue there. Her left hand had a matching ring. She looked down.

Her t-shirt was torn and ragged, but the blood she expected to see wasn’t there. She wondered if the poltergeist had healed her so fast that the blood couldn’t even escape.

“Oh good,” Emily said. “I think I’m okay. Are you and the others okay? It didn’t hurt any of you?”

“There were some minor bruises, but no serious damage.”

“Am I in a lot of trouble?”

“You did trespass on this property, but I doubt the owners are going to file a complaint. Other than that, you didn’t break any laws. Consequences are up to your parents.”

Tiara asked more questions about the poltergeist, and Emily answered them as best she could. Tiara nodded at Emily’s theory that there was really only one poltergeist, saying that it would make sense. Emily reached the part about trying to make the poltergeist focus on healing her rather than hurting anyone else.

“That was very brave, and I’m grateful that it worked, but it was also extremely reckless,” Tiara said.

Being criticized by one of her biggest heroes hit Emily hard. She tried to tell Tiara about the rest of her idea, of pulling the poltergeist inside her, but she was afraid of what Tiara would think.

Instead, she asked Tiara questions in return, but Tiara didn’t have a lot more to share than what Emily had already learned on her own and online. She was pretty sure that the poltergeist had first appeared about a month before the end of the Invasion. She had no idea what it was, or where it had come from, though.

Once Emily’s disorientation had completely passed, Tiara helped her home, where both of her moms were waiting for her. At first there were a lot of hugs, and a lot of making sure she was okay. Then there was a lot of explaining. A lot.

When she finally got to sleep that night, she resolved to put the entire poltergeist incident out of her mind for good. It had happened, it was over, and once she wasn’t grounded anymore (whenever that was), she could get on with her life—her nice, normal life.