Free As The World Dies Untold Tales Volume 3 by Rhiannon Frater

tell me what to do,” Rune growled irritably. He feebly swiped for the bottle.
    The old man kept it out of Rune’s grasp. “Why are you a medium, Rune?”
    “It’s a family curse.”
    “Or a blessing. You’re supposed to use it.”
    “Too many dead now. Too many ghosts. And they don’t listen, or move on.”
    “True.” The older man crossed his arms across his thin chest and sighed. “They’re confused. Scared. Lost. That will change. They’ll move on like I did.”
    “You an angel?”
    “Messenger. And they’ll be others like me. You’ll know us when you see us.”
    “Messengers for what?”
    “We’re trying to save the world, Rune. We may be dead, but we’re not done. Watch for us.”
    “I’m drunk. I won’t remember none of this.”
    “Yes, you will. Now, go to sleep. Sober up. Tomorrow, you need to leave. Take the nearest country road south. Tomorrow someone is going to need your help. Someone who’s important.”
    Rubbing his chin, the bristles of his scrubby beard scratched at Rune’s fingers. “Old timer, I’m sick of all this shit. I’m no Roland. I’m no gunslinger. I’m just a man with a bike and a curse.”
    The old man stood, leaving the bottle on the table. “You know that ain’t true, Rune.”
    “Do I?”
    “Yep. You do. Now, you’ll get some respite from the others. We’re holding them back so you can rest. But come tomorrow, you best move on. They’ll lose track of you for a bit.”
    “Fine,” Rune relented. He needed the sleep urgently. He’d play nice with his mysterious messenger if it meant some peace.
    The older man headed toward the front door, his cowboy boots thumping across the floorboards despite his slowly dissipating form.
    “You got a message for someone?” Rune asked on impulse.
    The old man looked back at Rune, smiled, and shook his head. “Nope. Nerit knows I love her. And she’s doing fine. You just take care.”
    Then Rune was alone.
     
     
     

     
     
     
    Chapter 11
     
    Rune had just finished dressing after a very cold shower when the first of the ghosts reappeared. Ignoring the dappled light that hovered over him, he used the last of the fuel from the generator to fill the bike’s tank. Rune focused on getting back on the road, resolved to ignore the ghostly assaults.
    The old timer had been right. When he’d awakened in the morning, he’d remembered every word the old man said. Also, he had no doubt that the old man had been a messenger. In retrospect, Rune realized the visitor didn’t bear the grievous wounds of death, a sure sign he’d moved on, then returned. Most of the spirits Rune had encountered since the beginning of the end of the world had been lost souls. The old timer was definitely not lost.
    Shrugging off the grip of one persistent ghost, Rune collected the last of his possessions and packed his bags. The leather was stretched taut over all the items he’d shoved inside, but they’d stay closed once he buckled the strap. He felt guilty about not keeping Charlene up to her usual glory. The leather needed to be treated and the chrome needed a good polish.
    “I’ll take care of you,” Rune said to the bike. He never felt foolish talking to Charlene. The bike wasn’t an organic creature, but she was imbued with spirit. Or so he liked to think.
    Tugging on his gloves, Rune surveyed the quiet area around the cabin. If he were another sort of man , maybe this would have been a good spot to hunker down, but he wasn’t like other people. He never had been normal. He had the gift to see the departed, and this new world wouldn’t allow him to forget it.
    “If you could please just check on my husband,” a woman whispered, grabbing his handlebars. Her fingers were nearly tangible.
    Fitting his goggles over his eyes, Rune revved the engine.
    “Do you know where my mommy is?”
    Hesitating, Rune glanced down at the small shadowy form near his leg. “Go into the light, honey. Go into the light.”
    Breaking free of the touch