Falling into Mysteries

Bridgeport's Funeral Home

"Such a shame. So young." Mason looked toward his son. Now that the funeral was over, they could all say their last goodbyes closer to Duncan's casket. "It isn't your fault. Not everyone is strong enough to pull through when life gets tough."

Finley looked at his dad's hand on his shoulder. Duncan was weak, he was right. A real neat freak, obsessive-compulsive. Still, he was his friend. Psychologically, he couldn't handle the Deetz thing. Maybe Duncan should have taken the ten and just headed out? Brady was still around, biding his time with Rebecca. He wasn't attending classes half as much, but he had no psychological problems he could see.

He was busy looking for the right kind of house for him and Rebecca. Finley was fine, it's not like the only messy thing he'd ever had to deal with in his life. Carter was still in the city, but he wasn't attending that year. He was going around different towns to find a new place to live and work with the ten thousand he got.

Carter and Brady did come by though, standing right next to him. Hard to believe Duncan could be so weak. It's not like he even did that much. He mainly stood in the background, not wanting to get dirty. All he did was shove a gag into the girl's mouth and watch for signs of anyone coming. He was also responsible for the bus ticket to Pleasant Pines so none of their cars were seen.

In and out strangers, moving through the backways. No one at Pleasant Pines even saw them. Oh yeah, he did make sure the place stayed meticulously clean of anything they messed with. Yeah, it drove Duncan crazy that he couldn't clean up the blood.

"I'm sorry for the loss," Mason said again, trying to be a good father. "You know what? You go ahead and split his ten percent among your friends."

The ten percent?

"Really?" Carter asked. Him and Brady hadn't been standing too far apart from us.

"That's very good of you, Mister Mason," Brady thanked him.

Really? Screw that, those guys already got ten thousand a piece. "Dad."

"No need to thank me," his father said. "You three can decide how to split it up. 3-3-2 or whatever."

Damn it! They already got paid, why did his dad have to do that? That whole ten percent should have been his! Now he had to share it with the guy who wanted to shower his wife with shit? Carter too. Duncan did more crap than him.

"Poor guy."

Finley noticed a strange teen or freshman coming up toward the casket. She didn't look familiar at all. Her face was pale white, and her hair was up in a ponytail. Her mouth looked like she could visit a dentist. Yellow and sort of greenish teeth? She rubbed her runny nose against her sleeve.

There's no way Duncan would know that girl. He wouldn't associate with germs. She didn't look real clean, and her manners for doing that? She should have had a handkerchief at a funeral. Finley even felt a little disgusted as she sneezed and reached for his hand. Man. Duncan would be rolling in his grave.

"Poor, poor guy. Poor guy." She sniffed again and walked away. She coughed loudly. "Poor Duncan! First it was Lydia, and now him!"

Lydia? Carter wasn't the only one who turned his head. However, when he looked back toward where she'd been, she was gone. There was nothing there except a handkerchief she had never used on the ground.

"Holy shit."

Finley looked toward Brady. "What?"

"Dude." Brady looked spaced out as he looked around again. "That's her."

"Who?"

"That had to be her." Brady looked toward Carter. "That was her, wasn't it?"

"What are you boys talking about?" Mason asked them.

"Shit, that was her." Brady started to move around, looking around the pews.

"Who the hell was that?" Finley looked toward Carter since Brady was flipping out.

"Shortly after, you know?" Carter looked back toward Brady. He scratched his chin. "Duncan was a little freaked out. He said there was a girl, messy germy girl, looking for someone named Lydia. Wrote Lydia on his dry erase board. He didn't bother telling us at first, he thought he was losing it. She was there and just gone. Moved too fast. Every time he tried to catch up, she was just gone."

"Shit, she's real. It's real." Brady came back toward Finley and Mason. "She knows Lydia, she's the one Duncan must have seen. She even got out right now. The entrance is way too far away to make in the time we looked back."

"She probably crawled through the pews to frighten you," Finley reasoned. "If she had anything on us, she would have gone to the authorities." She could suspect all she wanted. She did look kind of freaky. Probably a friend to the freaky girl Lydia.

"What do we do about her?" Brady asked.

Find her and kill her. If she was nosing around that much, she deserved it. "We get her out of the way."

"A simple girl, probably saw something that frightened her," his dad said slowly. "Thought she saw something she couldn't see. I'll just have to go down to Peaceful Pines and see if there might be a touch more artwork."

It was his father's way of saying it was time to find her and kill her. The weird bug fetish about a week ago before Duncan's death, was she responsible for that? Could she be the reason Duncan was lying there in that casket?

"Freaks, man, those weird devil worshipping goth freaks." Brady shook his arms slightly in anger, but not enough to make a scene. "I should have known this wouldn't be so easy. We should have backed out as soon as we saw 'she' wasn't a normal girl. That room of hers. She probably worships satan."

"Hey!" Mason took his finger, and moved it across his throat. "Zip it."

Too loud. They got away with murder, but anyone could overhear. No one was at the church anymore except one elderly woman in the very back. Still, there was a friend of Lydia's out there who could be trying to pull out some kind of-"

"Poor Duncan, oooh!"

Finley watched as the strange girl from before was now right beside the casket again. How the hell did she make it all the way over there again? "Hey, you."

"Who, me?"

Finley heard another voice from behind them. Another person, also quite disheveled and his hair a mess. Finley turned away to look toward the teenage girl again.

She was gone though. He looked back around toward the other disheveled man.

He was gone now too.

"Shit, dudes, no one could reach a pew fast enough without any of us looking!" Brady was starting to flip out. "That girl and that guy, man. I mean, where would she go?" He ran toward the other side of the casket. "Shit. Nothing."

"It's just a little freakout." Carter tried to keep it under control. "She planned on it. There's mirrors or holograms. It's fine. We just need to find out where she's from. Trace her back to the source. When are we going? I have to go, I can't just stay now."

"We aren't," Mason answered. "You stay here, and keep a level head. Stop talking about issues. That is what she wants."

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Neitherworld

Lydia was reading a book while Jacques exercised in his room. She was biding her time for lunch. Beetlejuice was probably having fun around the Neitherworld while she spent time with her friends. Right now, she was biding time with Jacques in his room. She still couldn't be trusted too far by herself, but BJ still needed to leave and be himself. Just? Hopefully he wasn't getting into too much trouble.

It was actually good that he pulled away. She was worried about learning to make it in the Neitherworld now that she was dead, but he had been her support, every step of the way. She'd even worried that something might be happening to him because of her. Maybe he'd been around her too much, or worried too much?

About two weeks ago, he had a strange look in his eye. Something that she hadn't ever noticed before. Almost, frightening, but that was all it had been. A simple look. After a little bit of time, that look faded away and Beetlejuice seemed more like himself again. Well, not completely, but that was understandable. She wasn't quite herself either.

"You know, maybe you could see if you qualify for the Neitherworld college?" Jacques pointed out. "It might make you feel more a part of zis wonderful world."

Hey, maybe she could qualify? That would give her a goal, but would it be okay? She only stopped falling through the ground about a week ago. It still felt sometimes like she was treading water. "When would it start?" She might have to pick up some classes to get there, but since people didn't die on schedules. There was probably a way for her to get what she needed to move on.

"College, huh? That sounds boring, but perfect for you." Beetlejuice came through the door. "You might want to hold off on that a little bit longer. You only stopped soaring through the ground like a week ago."

BJ thought it was a good idea too though? All those times he was just so ready for her to be out of school and play. It was different when she was around him 24/7. "You'd finally have me out of the house."

"No way, Babe," Beej insisted. "You can't totally move out just to go to school. Besides, it's still a little ways away."

Hm. He seemed to want to encourage it, but he was holding something back too. "Well, maybe next semester?"

"Good idea," he agreed.

"Sure." If she was still alive, she'd probably be going by now. "Prudence and Bertha must have started college by now." She looked back at her book, trying to find her previous position, but . . . "We would have all gone together. To the community college. I wonder if they still went there, or if they went somewhere else."

"Umm?" Jacques looked toward Beetlejuice. "Do you know?"

Did he? She looked toward Beetlejuice. Could the Neitherworld tell him about the other world? About what happened to her friends? About-

Aim higher or he's going to bleed to death.

A loud scream pierced her skull along with a face she didn't know. Aim higher? Aim what higher? That voice. Something . . . Lydia looked toward her hands where the book had been. It had dropped. It sounded like the sound of metal dropping though. Not a book.

"Lyd!"

Not a book. Lydia heard her name but she felt herself falling. Not like last time, she wasn't just falling through the ground. She felt like she was Alice from Wonderland, falling down the hole, head first. Falling and falling, with nothing to catch her. Falling and falling. She could hear echoes and she tried to reach out, but there was nothing to reach out for.

"Lydia!"

"Beetlejuice?" She was falling toward something. A house. Her old house. There was a large sound, like a firecracker. As she fell past it, she saw a sudden burst of light, then darkness with a terrifying scream.

Her scream.

Then she was back. She wasn't falling anymore. She was safe, tight within Beetlejuice's embrace. "What was that?" She looked toward Beetlejuice. If it was possible to be anymore pale for him? He had been. "Beej." She hugged him back so tightly. His hand was nowhere when she was falling, she had only found his voice. "I couldn't find your hand. I was falling. I saw a bright light in my house, a firecracker and a scream."

"I didn't grab your hand," BJ said as he continued to hold her. "I grabbed your whole damn body before it plunged away."

Plunged away? "Why?" Lydia didn't feel any more sensation of falling. She felt grounded, right in his arms. "BJ. If I died from being sick, why'd I see that . . ." That . . . that light and that sound. "Was there a gun?" A gun. That was it. She saw a gun go off in a dark house.

She looked around herself. She had been juiced back to Beetlejuice's place but he still hadn't let go. His grip had stayed tight. She could tell, even though he wasn't looking at her, that she was right. "Was I . . . murdered?"

He didn't want to answer. "Babe, you know the Neitherworld isn't an easy place to dwell when your psychologically all scrambled in the head. You couldn't even walk on the ground." He was almost pouting, but he was clearly serious.

It was out now though. Her mind couldn't hide the truth, dangerous or not. "I was murdered." She knew it. Somehow. In the house.

"Yeah." Beetlejuice must have known he couldn't hide it.

Murdered. "How?"

"What did I just say about speed, huh?" Beetlejuice scolded her. "This was fast enough. Your whole body is . . ." He seemed to stall. Like he wanted to say something, but didn't. "You need to calm down. You'll get everything bit by bit, but right now, you can't even touch the floor."

Oh. "Back to beds and chairs." Murder. She was murdered. By who? By a stranger? Someone she knew? Did they find out who did it?

"Nope, no bed or chairs. You'll fall in them too right now." Beetlejuice let go, but she was held up in the air by his juice. He lowered her slightly, almost touching the ground. "If I'm not holding you directly, my juice has to."

What? Lydia almost felt herself lose her balance again. That was impossible with Beetlejuice's juice.

He quickly scooped her back up. "There's a reason for the 125 years. Can't push, Babe."

"I just kept falling deeper and deeper. Even when I reached my house, and I just kept falling," Lydia told him. "I couldn't touch anything, and I couldn't reach anything. I'm sorry, I couldn't find you."

"It doesn't matter," Beetlejuice said. "Even when you are falling, I'm already there holding you."

Murder. She was murdered. Lydia gave herself a few minutes to calm down. Sickness or murder. In the end, she was still dead. Still in the same position. She had to remember that. "BJ. I know I can get through this."

"Sure, but not in a night. I can't trust my juice when I sleep either." He tried to give her a light smile. "Do you know how many times I wake up falling from levitation? Yep, too dangerous for you." He carried her over to the fridge. "We can get you some supper. Watch some TV. Then get some rest. Maybe you'll be a little better tomorrow."

"I'm going to do all that with you holding me?" Her heart. For being dead, it was hammering. She was still confused about her feelings for Beetlejuice, and now he would be carrying her this close for the night?

He handed her a burger and they sat down to watch TV. It wasn't a time for questions. The old her would have demanded an answer and facts. Wanted to know every detail. But? Just from the little she did know, she was now being carried by Beetlejuice or his magic not to fall.

Death was different. She needed to remember that. There was no hurry to learn all of the painful truths. The who, what, where, and especially the why. BJ too? Maybe when he did leave, he was doing something about the murderer? Was that possible?

If it was, he'd be taking it. Beetlejuice was certainly about revenge. She wanted to ask, but it wasn't time. From what little she knew, she was already in such a dire position.

Who knew what happened when she fell, and no one reached out back to her?

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Poor Lyds slept in his arms. He pretended to go to sleep, so she would eventually fade off. Her entire body needed rest. Anyone else besides the ghost with the most, and she would have been a dead shadow.

Even now, he couldn't risk letting her go. He had tried to grab her like normal, but he could feel her not just drifting, but plummeting away. He grabbed her quickly, but her body was like holding water. Few could handle her right now.

There was no doubt in his mind taking her from Mister Deetz was the right thing to do. Even trying to just float her to the ground being held by his juice was risky. He figured a low setting would be fine, it always had been. He had to crank it to a medium juice, low juicing was still making her lose her balance.

To hold her now with his juice took about as much power as levitating everything in the room. That wasn't something that was impossible to do for him, but it wasn't a good sign. That level and she only figured out the fact she wasn't sick. It doesn't matter, Lyds. If I end up having to hold you for eternity, then I will. The stress of suddenly knowing made it risky to let her go right now. He couldn't risk playing levitation while he slept. He preferred it. Levitating felt nicer, and even when he was rudely awakened and fell, it was still worth it. Yet, that was just it. If even one split second he lost his concentration with his magic? 

She'd fall, and he couldn't save her. For tonight, she'd get some rest and relax. Maybe by morning, she'd be able to lie in a bad. 

She would be sure to stress even more, but if she kept it under control, she'd be fine. In the meantime, he'd have to get some extra help to watch her while he was gone. More than Ginger or Jacques. Someone who had just as much juice as him.