Page 42 of Joker's Ghost
I suck in a breath, weighing my next words. “Only I wasn’t really unconscious.”
Python crosses his arms over his chest. “Well, you sure the fuck weren’t awake.”
“That’s the thing: I was, only I wasn’t in 2025, I was in 1939.”
Python and Cobra stare at me but stay silent.
“It was as real as I’m standing here, and you guys were there too, only it was over eighty years ago.”
“You had a dream while you were unconscious, not that crazy,” Cobra reasons and Python nods his agreement.
“I don’t know if it was real or fake, but I do know it ended badly.”
“Badly, how?” Cobra asks.
I didn’t want to say the words out loud for fear of making them come true. “I wanna have another meet with the Nomads. Feel them out and see their attitude, ‘cause something is fucked up, and I’m not waiting around like the last time.”
Python and Cobra exchange a look.
“I get it,” Cobra says. “You gotta put your family first.”
“I’d be willing to put all this behind me, if it wasn’t for the pictures I got Halloween night and again this morning.” I swipe at my phone, pull up the pictures, and show them the screen.
“Shit!”
“Fuck!”
“Yeah, exactly. Whoever’s got pictures of me, Daisy, Derek, and even little Deana—they know where we go and what we do, and it’s freakin’ me the fuck out.”
Python takes my phone and examines the pictures closer. “Yeah, those are very clear pics with a wide-angle lens. Whoever took these knew what they were doing and why.”
Python came off as a wiseass, but when balls were to the wall, his analytical brain took over, and he weighed all oddsevenly. Probably came from his knowledge of gambling as a degenerate hustler back in the day, but the guy has a knack for calling shit out.
Python passes the phone to Cobra, who looks briefly then turns his eyes to me. “This shit is whack, and whoever sent them to you is looking for trouble. Maybe we can make that trouble happen.”
CHAPTER 14
JOKER
Later that night, Cobra called an emergency church meeting to iron shit out.
When we were all assembled around the table, Cobra slams down the gavel and turns to me. “I’m gonna let Joker start off.”
I retell the story of seeing the guy at the Halloween party, leaving out my dream or vision when unconscious. This shit sounds crazy enough without adding hallucinations to it. I show them the pictures sent to me, and they pass my phone around the table in silence.
“I get this shit isn’t right,” Mamba motions to my phone, “but what makes you think it’s one of the Nomads?”
“Cause none of this shit started happening until we met up with them at the safe house. And the guy I saw at the party looked exactly like the one we offed at the safe house. I know it sounds crazy, but I also know what I saw. And this was before I fell in the basement.”
“Like I said the other night,” Rattler adds, “we were pounding those shots pretty hard and?—”
“I wasn’t fuckin’ drunk.”
Python nods at me, “Yeah, I’ve seen this guy drink way more and be sober and straight. Out of all of us, Joker can handle his booze.”
Cobra takes it all in, not saying anything, and I don’t know if that’s good or bad.
“On the other hand,” Mamba leans into the table, “Rattler and I saw both of those fuckers at the end, and neither one of them was breathing. So, either they had some miraculous intervention, or there’s some kinda ghost floating around.”
