I took a brief break. Here is this week's Flash Fiction story. Enjoy.
Call From Beyond
By,
Jennifer E. Miller
Tracy Cornwall's phone buzzed on the
nightstand, waking her. Groggy, she sat up and rubbed her eyes. One look at
the caller ID, and she felt the blood drain from her face.
The name on the screen read: Billy
Cornwall. Tracy's brother passed away three months ago. His contact information was
still programmed in her cell phone. She hadn't thought to remove it, but his
phone was deactivated and the contract terminated. Had the cell phone company
already reissued Billy's number to someone else? She hit the green “accept call”
circle on the screen, expecting to advise of a wrong number.
"Hello?"
Static squawked through the speaker.
"Helloooo?" she repeated.
The static pulsed a few times
followed by a voice.
"Tracy?"
She felt nauseous, unable to speak.
"Tracy. It's me. Tracy?"
She swallowed. "I'm here."
"Hi, sis."
His voice sounded as though it was
in a tin can. Like there were miles and miles separating them.
"Billy?”
"Yeah,” he said.
"But you're... you're..."
she struggled to finish her sentence.
"Dead?"
Choking back tears, she answered,
"Yeah."
"I'm here, sis. I never
left."
"Where's here?"
"Here. I don't know how to
describe it. But I'm safe. Don't worry about me."
Even though the coroner confirmed
his death, his remains cremated, and a funeral service, Tracy felt his presence
at times. She heard his footsteps behind her along the sidewalk. His favorite
song frequently sprung up on the radio. Most haunting was seeing his name
everywhere. Billy Bob's Diner. Willy-Nilly-Billy Bean coffee stand. The police
department's new K-9 was even named Billy.
The static pulsed again. Billy said
something but his voice cut out.
"What?"
"Save yourself," he said.
Tracy's heart quickened. His tone,
the seriousness, was exactly how she remembered when he tried to prevent her
from harm. He had an uncanny ability to sense approaching danger.
"Save myself from what?"
"I left...”
Billy was cutting in and out again.
"Someone...try...hurt you...”
“I don’t understand, who will hurt
me?”
Billy wasn't making any sense. Tracy wasn't dating anyone.
The static squawked again. “…ove…you…sis…ake…care.”
Tracy realized Billy was leaving
her. “Billy! Don’t hang up!”
“…otta…go...careful…”
Static screeched evenly, like a heart monitor's flat
line.
“Love you, too,” she whispered.
Then the line went cold. No noise, no
dial tone. Just emptiness.
With a sigh, Tracy touched the end
call button, replaced the phone on the nightstand, and began sobbing. She missed
her brother terribly, even though Billy lived in another city. The car accident
took him swiftly, with no suffering, according to the medical examiner.
A multitude of disillusionment
rushed through her tired brain. Should she take Billy’s caution seriously? Was
it even Billy that called or his ghost? She thought herself going crazy.
Deceased persons cannot possibly make phone calls, or can they? She didn’t
consider herself superstitious, bet she remembered a paranormal television
program where they discussed communication with the dead, sometimes by phone
calls. She thought it was made up for the show. Now she wished she’d paid more
attention.
After her sobs subsided, Tracy
decided the only option was to keep Billy’s warning in the back of her mind.
She switched off the lamp and returned to sleep.
* * *
One week passed and Tracy’s life resumed
as normal, but she didn’t tell anyone about the phone call.
As she logged off her work computer for
a lunch break, her office phone beeped.
“Tracy?” It was the receptionist.
“Yes?”
“There’s a Finnigan McChord here to
see you.”
“Who?” She didn’t know anyone by
that name.
“Finnigan McChord. From Lockton
Insurance Group.”
Confused, she responded, “I’ll be
right up.”
She grabbed her purse and locked her
office door behind her.
A few moments later she arrived in
the reception area. A man not much older than Tracy stood waiting.
“You must be Mr. McChord?” Tracy
said, approaching him with and extended hand.
“Yes. But call me Finn. You must be
Tracy,” he replied, as he smiled and squeezed a handshake.
His accent was Irish or Scottish,
Tracy couldn’t distinguish which.
“This won’t take long, but I need to
discuss some documents with you.”
“You caught me at a good time. I’m on
lunch; can we talk in the park?”
“Of course.”
They exited the office building,
walked down the block to the park, where Tracy found an empty bench for the two
of them.
Finn opened his briefcase, shuffled
some papers around, and produced a small stack of legal-sized papers and a pen.
“Your brother had a life insurance
policy with us. We got word he passed away. Our condolences.”
Tracy felt emotion boil up her
throat. She wasn’t expecting abrupt business regarding Billy from Finn. She
thought he was simply an insurance salesman she would blow off.
“I need you to sign.”
“For what?”
Finn looked up at her in surprise. “Didn’t
you know? Billy listed you as the sole beneficiary.”
“No.”
“Well, he did indeed. You’re to
inherit two million dollars.”
Tracy blinked.
Finn chuckled. “Sometimes these things
come as a surprise. It’s a lot of money, people don’t know how to react. I just
need to verify your identity and sign a few documents. We’ll release the funds
within sixty days.”
The two dove into a business
discussion about the intricacies of the policy and how payout works.
She signed the papers and Finn
handed over her copies, along with his business card. Tracy flipped through the
documents again and noticed that Billy’s legal name, William, was on the form.
“Did you know Billy well?” she asked.
“No. I’m just the insurance
representative Lockton sent out to call on you. He initially called our 1-800
number to purchase the policy.”
How
did he know to call him Billy? Tracy wondered. She suddenly felt on high
alert.
Finn snapped his briefcase together
and smiled.
“You have my business card there.
Give me a call if you’d like to get together. You seem like a lovely woman…”
Copyright 2018 Jennifer E. Miller
