Deadly Heritage: A Roland Wasape Paranormal Mystery by Ty Burson

Author:Ty Burson
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub, mobi
Publisher: Book Prints Publishing
Published: 2023-08-06T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

We were not long from my great-grandmother’s house, only just leaving the city when I yelled at Hector to turn around.

“What? Are you kidding? We were just there,” he replied.

“I know, I know,” I yelled. “Go back, hurry!”

Hector found a police U-turn lane and headed back the way we came. Tim, still in the back, unplugged and asked what we were doing. “Dude, what’s the deal? Why are we turning around?”

How could I answer? I didn’t have an answer. Something was wrong, horribly wrong, and that something was pulling at my guts to go back. I was so agitated that I made Hector push the little Honda as fast as he could get away with and not get a speeding ticket. The closer we got, the stronger that sense of panic. Hurry, hurry, I thought.

Tim asked again what was going on, but I couldn’t explain it. We saw smoke before we made it to her neighborhood. I knew it was coming from my grandmother’s house. As soon as we turned on the right street, we could see that a fire truck and an ambulance had both arrived. Hector slowed down as we rolled up on the hectic scene. Some firemen were trying to beat down the flames on the roof. The front door was open, and smoke was pouring out. For a second, I thought about my great-grandmother puffing her cigar. Another fireman appeared through the smoke. Neighbors were standing in the yard.

“Look,” Tim pointed. Near the ambulance was a black body bag. My heart was in my throat. “Is that...”

I couldn’t reconcile what I was seeing. That body all wrapped up couldn’t be the living, breathing person I was just talking to. But I knew with complete certainty that it was. “Yeah,” I gulped, “it’s her.”

We weren’t the only car that came to see what was going on. A fireman stepped out into the street and started to wave us on. I could hear more sirens coming. Hector moved ahead slowly. A neighbor pointed our way.

“Hey, Roland,” Tim said, “I think we should go.”

I didn’t answer. This is insane. How could this happen? Tim was saying something from the back seat. Then I saw her, just as I had only minutes before. My great-grandmother was not in the bag; she was standing on what remained of her front step, looking just how I had left her. She was alive. Someone else was in the body bag, but a fireman slipped right by her—no, right through her. She wasn’t real. I was seeing things again. The vision persisted. I told Hector to slow down.

She took off the coke-bottle glasses and straightened up, seeming to grow a little. Before I knew it, she was standing tall, no longer twisted and arthritic. When she took off her cap, her hair fell long and straight past her shoulders. Years fell away too. I realized suddenly that my great-grandmother was beautiful—young and beautiful, and dead. She was dead, I reminded myself. She was…had to be like the ghosts at the school.

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