Free Following Christopher Creed by Carol Plum-Ucci

suddenly. "Hey, I saw you touching the trees and breathing deeply when you first came in here, before you knew we were watching. What was up with that?"
    "Nothing related," I said, my chill growing deeper.
    "Justin's mad at me right now ... knows I'm among those who think his brother is dead. But I'm cool with his quantum thought theory, which sounds like it could work on the dead, too. Why not? At least, it might work out here... This
is
a weird place."
    Kobe must have heard Justin describing how it works, because he started breathing himself, in and out, in and out. "I believe I am seeing Chris Creed."
    I rolled my eyes but couldn't quite stop myself from looking out into the woods. I persevered through a dozen frames of utter blackness before remembering that people who believe in quantum thought state their wishes in the present tense, as if they have them.
    "I believe I have the power to draw Chris Creed to me." He breathed in and out. "I believe that the ghost of Chris Creed is coming out of those woods."
    Mary Ellen said, "Stop it. Justin says quantum thought is for drawing happy things. What you're doing doesn't seem right."
    "Justin said it will work on anything," he replied, "so you have to be careful. I believe I see—"
    Lanz growled, so low that I was probably the only one who heard him.
    "Mike, we've got those girls back at the car," RayAnn whispered, her nervous energy jutting into me and obviously not pleasing Lanz.
    "I believe I see a white light in those woods that is transforming into the ghost of Chris Creed..." Kobe refused to give it up.
    "Um, maybe you should study up on quantum thought." I smiled patiently. "You could misfire and bring out some abomination that will fly up your backside and make you howl and sputter—"
    "Bring it on," he replied without a laugh. The kid was morbid.
    "Fine. You call Chris Creed back from the dead. We're just going to pack it in. Can you be sure to tell him to come to you and not to follow us?"
    He ignored me with all his inhaling and exhaling.
    I stood up slowly, still feeling the energy darting and shifting around me. I took the woods in frame by frame and saw nothing but pitch darkness. It wasn't until I was standing totally straight that Lanz growled loudly. I realized he had been standing, rooted, not staring out at the dark woods, but behind me.

SEVEN
    I JERKED AROUND TOO QUICKLY, and everything went, black. But the feeling of facing a human being was so strong that I dropped down again and put an arm up protectively to shield RayAnn.
    Kobe finally stopped that godforsaken deep breathing. Mary Ellen fell half into my lap. "Justin, is that you?"
    Slow, clomping footsteps moved closer, as if a person a little ways off was toying with us. Somebody wanted to see us squirm. Lanz growled.
    "Shine your flashlight, asshole, whoever you are," Mary Ellen demanded. "Don't make Kobe beat the crap out of you..."
    "Tell me what this is, please, RayAnn," I managed.
    "It's a policeman," she finally said blandly.
    The form stepped up and developed a face. A deep, booming voice answered. "I'm on my way home after a long night, but I figured I'd come out here and clear this place of idiots before hitting the hay."
    "Chief, you just blew it!" Kobe said. "Creed was coming to let us know he's behind all our bad luck."
    The man yawned and didn't try to cover it. Chief Rye was African American, and the little bits I could take in of his skin glowed deep gold in the moonlight. His grin looked slightly amused as Mary Ellen sputtered some apology for inappropriate name-calling, but she got cut off.
    "Chief Rye, I'm RayAnn Spencer. Mike Mavic and I are here from the
Randolph Exponent
—" A flashlight shone in my face, and I found my legs and stood up again.
    "Mike. I see you're finding your way around the area. Sorry I couldn't talk to you earlier." He shined a flashlight around and it stopped on Mary Ellen's face. She had reddish hair. Kind of pretty. "I can't tell the journalists where to