Seeing Ghosts

Spunk woke up alone on the shop’s floor with an aching back. His head seemed clear, and he wondered if the ghost’s panic made him black out, because he certainly did not feel concussed. As he sat up and looked around, he wondered if Amalyn had called Harold as ordered. He wondered how much time had passed.

Rising slowly from his prone position, he gathered that the ghost had fled in terror. The shop was quiet otherwise, and he saw it was fifteen minutes before the doors were supposed to open. Had he left it unlocked?

“Shit.” He muttered as he spotted the sex toy inspector laid out on the floor near the front entrance. He had forgotten momentarily why the ghost had flipped out. Someone had seen it. How much did she see? He wondered. He walked over to her, grateful to not see any visible blood. The ghost had probably just knocked her out like it had him.

Unsure of how to approach the situation, he decided to try some gentle gaslighting. Just make her think that she’s crazy. It’ll be fine. He thought to himself as he squatted over her body. She didn’t look quite so menacing when she was unconscious, but he knew that she meant trouble. Inspectors always did.

“Ma’am?” He asked tentatively, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Are you alright?” He shook her gently. She didn’t respond.

“Ma’am? Should I call someone?” He shook her shoulder a little bit harder, hoping he would wake her. Still nothing.

"Amalyn, did you alert Harold?" He asked loudly to the system.

"Yes, five minutes ago. He responded and said he'd be here as soon as he could." Amalyn's cheery voice rang out into the store. With that, for some reason, the lady started to stir.

She moaned and opened her eyes. Apparently, she was not concussed either, for knowing and fear immediately dawned on her face.

"You're harboring one of them." She accused him as she crawled back away from him. Spunk held out his hands placatingly, but he could tell she was going to get more and more riled up. "The bombings... Was it you? Your fault?"

She had almost reached the door. He knew if she made it out the door, like as he knew it would end. He would be accused of things he didn't do. The shop would close. Harold and his family would lose their livelihoods as well.

"Amalyn." He said calmly. Too calmly. The deadness in his voice made his inner child cringe. "Lock the front door and pull down the shades, please."

The door clicked into the silence as the inspector's eyes grew wide. A whirring noise pulled down the light-blocking shades into their proper place. For all intents and purposes, she was temporarily trapped in the building with him.

Spunk kept his hands in the placating position, smiling at her without trying to make it menacing. He wasn't sure if he succeeded.

"I want you to hear me out." He said. "Before you go off the rails or try to beat down the doors or call someone or whatever. Please, just hear me out. I'm not going to hurt you."

She stared at him, her fear turning to anger. He knew this was not going to end well.

As she bolted for the door, Spunk called out, "Amalyn, emergency mode." Now there was definitely no way out until he was done.

"Ma'am, you can't get out. The doors are hydraulically locked. Please listen to me, and then I'll open the doors and you can leave." Spunk's voice was meant to be soothing, but he heard it more as deliberate and deadpan. The power differential was real, and he knew it.

She gave the door a tug and a kick for good measure. It didn't budge. She turned, back to the door as she scanned the room for other exits. They were all shaded and locked. Emergency mode was there for a reason. Though he had always imagined it for keeping angry protestors out, not scared women, in.

"Hear me out." Spunk repeated himself calmly. "It'll just take a moment."

Her eyes furiously scanning for exits, or weapons, or anything that might save her from her perceived danger, she nodded slowly. She saw no other way to proceed.

"Great. Thank you." Spunk said. He tried to sound warm, but the words felt condescending as they came out of his mouth.

"Look." He started. He took a seat on the floor. "About a week ago, one of those Neval creatures came in. It was maybe two days before your first visit?" He strained to remember, but couldn't pin down the date. "He was acting weird but I figured he was nervous. I go to help another customer and I hear this screaming. Over and over. Wouldn't stop. So I run out of the bonus room --" Spunk gestured towards the right of the shop, behind him, "And towards the screaming, which happened to be in the paddles section."

Spunk waved the other arm to show where the paddles section was. "And what I find is a customer screaming, and a pile of steaming blue goo on my floor, a trench coat draped over it. As you can imagine, it was a very stressful day." He took a breath. She didn't seem to be any calmer, so he continued.

"As I went to clean up the goo, I was confronted by that... ghost, thing, entity, whatever. It locked me in the basement and told me it needed my help. I've had a few encounters with it and every time beyond that first time, it knocks me out when it's done with me. Nearly killed me the other day when my head almost his a hook that holds chest harnesses back there." He waved towards the rear of the shop.

"The attacks happened yesterday. I heard on EPR last night that Neval were to blame. I decided to confront the ghost this morning, because I now know -- as do you -- that it's not actually a ghost. It's the goo, exerting its influence over us. Through electric or magic or some mumbo jumbo like that." She was staring at him, but he hoped it was a good sort of stare.

"So that's what I was doing when you -- how did you get in here, anyway? I thought I locked the door behind me." She shook her head from side to side. Well, at least he knew she was listening.

"And all I got out of that rat bastard is that he needs to die. To get his kin to leave us alone. But then you interrupted, and here we are. So, one last thing before I stop talking. I am not harboring anything. I notified the health department last week about the goo. You can fact check me on that. I just found out last night what he was."

They passed a moment in silence. He weighed his own options -- he could kidnap her, but why? He didn't particularly care for the ghost goo. Saffold was more trouble than he was worth that's for sure. Although... two birds one stone, right? His devilish brain thought. No inspector, no counterfeit toy issues.

"You can't just lock someone in your store." She said finally, but her voice was sullen and resigned.

"I didn't want you to run off to the police to have them arrest me as a traitor. I have a reputation to uphold in this community. I'm an innocent bystander. Plus... ghost goo man might shock all of our brains if he thought his one ticket to safety -- me -- was about to be harmed."

"How can I..." She struggled to find her words. "I can't just let this go. We're being asked to report any Neval sightings."

"I don't expect you to." Spunk said. "You should report it. I did. Last week. And nothing was done. Look, I don't want my store to get blown up by angry, horny aliens. I don't particularly want goo man on my premises, either. I just want to live my happy, retired life as a sex shop owner."

"Will you just let me go, please?" She asked. She was clearly done with the conversation. Spunk had no idea where he stood with her.

"Amalyn, deactivate emergency mode. Unlock the doors." Spunk said and he heard the click of the door opening.

"What are you going to do?" He asked as she turned to walk out the door. She met his eyes with a mix of fear and righteous indignation. How the tables turn when someone feels free.

"I'm not sure. But you're probably not going to like it." She opened the door and it jangled. "I'll be back for your inspection tomorrow, Mr. Pirate. And you may or may not be here to see it."

He felt his stomach churn as he digested her threat. Were she military or rural, the threat would've been violence. But this sounded more like the threat of police action. Does five minutes behind locked doors count as kidnapping? Spunk was unsure.

"I didn't ask for this, and neither did the Neval." Spunk called after her. "Don't forget that."

"Amalyn, please call Harold." Spunk's voice was shaky as he spoke to the computer. The door slammed shut behind the sex toy inspector. "We need to talk."

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