Things that go bump in the Night

by Diane Kachmar

Chip Morton turned sharply away from placing his uniform shirt on the rack for laundry pick-up as a clunk sounded on the other side of his cabin wall. He finished hanging the shirt and then moved closer to listen. Someone was definitely in Lee’s cabin. And it had better not be Lee. With a growl, Morton swiped a clean tee shirt off a hanger in his small closet and shrugged into it. Only one way to find out.

Chip eased open the door of the next cabin, not surprised the small room was dark. Crane had never needed light to navigate his sparse furnishings. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, Chip noticed the sink was open. That was not normal. He swept the small room looking for Lee. The bedding was creased, as if someone had lain there briefly, but the bunk was empty. Morton reached over and flipped on the cabin light.

Lee was slumped against the wall behind the sink, his head bowed down onto crossed arms, resting on his raised knees. He was still in Sick Bay Greens. An empty metal cup lay on the floor. That was what Morton had heard drop. Chip quickly crossed to the desk, switched on the lamp and turned the shade so it illuminated the wall opposite Lee. Then he flipped the overhead light off. In another moment he was kneeling next to his Captain.

“Lee?” he inquired softly.

Crane sighed, but did not move.

“Are you dizzy?” Chip rested his hand lightly on Crane’s shoulder.

Lee shook his head fractionally.

“Then why are you are on the floor?”

Crane gave another negative shake that Chip felt more than saw.

“Well, you can’t stay here. Jamieson will have a fit. Two fits if he finds you like this. Can you stand?”

Lee raised his head slightly and the bandage that covered most of the left side of his head was exposed. “Wanted some water,” he said, barely audible.

“I’ll get it.”

Chip slid sideways around his friend, scooping up the metal cup from the floor as he got up. Morton leaned over the sink, rinsed out the cup and then filled it half full. He brought it down, once again kneeling beside Crane. “Here.”

Lee straightened up very slowly and carefully. The hand that reached for the cup trembled.

Chip pushed it down lightly. “You’ll end up with a bath, not a drink, if you can’t be any steadier than that.”

Lee lowered his hand to rest on his raised knee and then slowly opened his other hand to reveal a large pill. “Jamie gave me this to take.”

“How many hours ago?”

Crane grimaced. “After you left, so not that long.”

“Longer than it should have been,” Chip groused back. “Take it. I’ll hold the cup.” He slid his free hand around Crane’s back to support his friend while he drank and was a bit surprised when Lee downed the entire amount.

“More?”

Lee shook his head wearily. “No.” He glanced over at Chip, and Morton could see despite his condition, Crane was amused by his concern. “So, are you going to pick me up and carry me back to my rack?”

“Too much work.” Morton thought a moment. “I could call Sick Bay for help.”

Crane’s hand stretched out and closed over his. “I’d rather you didn’t.”

Chip shifted his hand slightly so he could grasp Lee’s wrist. “You shouldn’t have left. Will told you to stand down. The repair is holding and you know Randy is the best one to handle it if anything does happen. He has the watch, after all.”

“Jamie told you to stand down and you’re still in uniform.”

“I was going to bed when I heard you fall over.”

“I did not fall over. I dropped the cup. When I bent over, well, let’s just say it wasn’t the best thing for me to do.” Crane shrugged. “I should have stayed in the rack.”

“You should have stayed in Sick Bay.”

Lee finally raised his head. “I don’t like it there.”

Morton snorted. “I know! That doesn’t mean you get up and walk out.”

Crane looked over at him, frowned, and then turned away. “You don’t understand.”

“I might,” Chip replied. “If you’ll tell me.” He gave Crane’s wrist a slight squeeze.

Lee swung his head back to where he could look Chip in the eye. “I – I can’t hear what’s going on in there. It’s too quiet; Jamie keeps me away from everything that’s happening.”

“He’s supposed to! You don’t need to hear DCP reports when you have healing to do.”

Crane ran his free hand lightly across the deck. “Here, I turn on the comm and I know exactly what orders are being given.”

“You also get tossed out of your rack every time we lose trim.”

Crane tried to scowl, but kept losing his battle to keep his lips from twitching.

Chip leaned in closer. “I can hear you when you go bump in the night.”

“You’re not exactly a featherweight when you get tossed, either.”

“True,” Chip granted. “I must be closer to the center of the boat. It happens to you way more often than me.”

“It’s called physics.” Crane withdrew his hand and Chip loosened his grip to let him go.

“So are you going to rat me out?”

Chip glanced at this watch. “When will they discover you’ve gone?”

“The next vitals check. That is, if Jamie ordered one. He may not have, with everyone he had to treat and release.”

“You took advantage of the crowd and slipped out.”

Lee cocked his head. “Actually I think they forgot I was back there. They all went off to clean up, get something to eat afterwards and left me alone. All I had to do was walk out.”

“You will be missed, sooner or later.”

Crane shrugged. “Jamie knows where to find me.”

“Is it really worth the lecture you are going to get?”

“Which one?”

This time Chip had to fight to keep his own lips from twitching. “Let’s see, ‘there is the why were you doing damage control,’ for starters, then he could segue into ‘Your skull is not as strong as one of our bulkheads’ one...”

Crane raised a contradictory finger. “I am not concussed nor in shock anymore.”

“You’re not recovered, either.”

Lee sighed and bowed his head again. “Sometimes I don’t know which one of you is worse.”

Chip grinned. “He fusses. I nag. So do I help you up? We are not spending the night sitting on the floor. We both need rack time. I refuse to carry you over there, but I am going to put you to bed before I leave.”

“I’ll need your arm, if you would be so kind to get up.” Lee gave in. “I can still walk.”

Chip rose from the floor and extended his arm, standing steady and still as Crane levered himself up onto his feet and then let him go. Swaying slightly, Lee headed for the bunk and lowered himself down onto it. He looked up at Chip, who had been one step behind him the entire way and smiled. “Told you I was ambulatory.”

“Adrenaline doesn’t last, particularly after one of Will’s meds,” Chip countered. “You’ll be out before you know it. Now lie down.”

Lee swung his long legs up onto the mattress and moved around until he had them situated where he wanted them. “Don’t feel it yet.”

“You will,” Morton promised. “Want to talk a bit? That might help.”

“Are we going to talk or am I getting the ‘why were you on damage control’ lecture?”

“Damn it, Lee, you’re not DCP, half the time you don’t even have the right gear. Did you know that Ski and Boots get extra ready for whenever there is an alarm so they can put it on you when you do show up! That’s not protocol and you know it! It risks them and the boat. It’s their job to take the risks, not yours! One day Will won’t be able to stitch you back together! This boat needs you whole and in command in a crisis, not knocked out and bleeding on the deck. I though you were dead when I found you on my survey! All that blood --”

“Wasn’t mine. It only grazed me. Harris wasn’t so lucky.” Lee looked over at him. “I was there, we almost had it, would have had it, if there was only more time...” Crane’s voice faded as he closed his eyes.

“Getting yourself killed won’t bring him back,” Chip answered quietly, “and would leave us in even worse shape. An alarm means you come to the control room, not head for the deck where it’s going off.”

Lee opened an eye. “I didn’t go running after it. I told you, I was there.”

“You would be,” Chip replied. “Okay, you’re not dead, only grazed, so I’ll can the lecture and talk about something else. How are you going to explain that head bandage to your Mom?”

“It will be off by then.”

“No, it won’t. I saw the stitches.”

“Terrific.” Lee grimaced. “I’ll have to find some way to make it part of my costume.”

“That is not de rigueur for your Mom’s soiree.”

“Maybe I’ll have a last minute change of mind and go with you.”

“No, you won’t. Lillian is counting on you being there.”

“Yeah, the annual Halloween gala to open the winter season and if possible, trot out the son to show she has one.” Lee closed his eye. “Not my idea of fun.”

“You’ll be the life of the party.”

Lee made a rude noise and rolled over on his side. “Not with that crowd. Where are you taking your Mom?”

“I don’t do Halloween.”

“Why not?”

“It’s a long story and you need to sleep.”

Lee turned back toward him, his eyes opening in surprise. “I could have sworn we--“

“New Years or Mardi Gras. Never Halloween. If we’re in port, you go home for your annual visit,” Chip replied firmly. “I don’t take leave in late October unless it’s my turn and then I make sure I don’t reach home until Saints Day. It’s safe then.”

“You are serious about this.” Lee hitched higher on his pillow. “Tell me.”

Morton shook his head. “You don’t need nightmares on top of a head gash. Sleep is what you need to get rid of that headache.”

“You can’t tell me something like that and then expect me to sleep. Or drop it. What happened?”

“Nothing. Yet. I want to keep it that way.”

“Why are you avoiding something that hasn’t happened?” Crane looked over at him.

“Because it happened to my grandfather and my father and I’m the first born son. You don’t play in traffic unless you want to get hit.” Chip scowled. “I’m not like you, if I can avoid trouble, I will. And being home on the one night ghosts roam freely is asking for it.”

“I don’t look for trouble,” Lee retorted.

“It finds you anyway. As long as I’m not there, mine can’t find me.”

“What happened to your father that has you so spooked?”

“A spook,” Chip replied. “I told you its too long and too unbelievable to tell anyone outside the family about our ‘gift,’ as my great-grandmother called it.”

“I am family. So tell me.”

Chip eased down into the desk chair. “I’m not sure I believe her. I was ten when my Dad saw the North Shore Aviator. He had been told it could skip a generation after my grandfather gave Resurrection Mary a lift, but that encounter still shook him. My Dad is a firefighter. He doesn’t scare easily. So I never wanted to test it.”

“Test what?”

Morton sighed. “I never should have mentioned it. According to my Hungarian great-grandmother, the first born son has the sight, the ability to see ghosts in the place he was born. It’s in my genes. And I don’t want it.”

Lee looked up at him. “I thought to have the sight means you see the future.”

“Not in my family. All we can see are ghosts, although none of us want to.”

“That would be something.”

Morton shook his head. “There you go, running after trouble again!”

“Aren’t you the least bit curious?”

“No. Two of my relatives have already seen some of the creepiest Chicago has to offer. I have no desire to meet whatever is waiting out there for the right circumstance to show itself to me.”

Lee sighed. “The pragmatic approach.”

“It works for me. You’ll notice I don’t have a head bandage that I’ll have to explain to my Mom. Now will you go to sleep or do I have to call Sick Bay to come get you. I have that authority.”

“And you’ll use it.”

“If you’ll promise to stay put and not wander down to see how Randy’s doing, I won’t tell anyone I found you. Will shows up, you two can have it out. Don’t wake me up.”

Lee smiled. “If Jamie finds me asleep, he’ll probably let me be, at least until morning.”

“You can hope.”

“Tell me about this North Shore Aviator. Maybe you can bore me to sleep.”

“Thanks.” Morton shifted to a more comfortable position in the chair. “Anybody who saw him never dismissed the sighting that easily.”

Lee reached out to press his arm. “Sorry. Guess I’m still a bit addled from what happened tonight. I didn’t mean to...”

Chip pressed back. “I’m a little over sensitive. It’s not the sort of thing I want to tell my CO. Section 8 and all that.”

“I won’t tell anyone. This is definitely off the record.”

“It was said he was a spirit of World War II. When ships were converted to aircraft carriers, pilots were trained to land their planes on their decks. Sometimes, an inexperienced pilot would careen off the deck into Lake Michigan. Attempts to rescue them were made, but there were a few they weren’t able to save and they ended up being lost to the lake. The Aviator was an unknown young pilot who met this fate and was left to spend eternity in a watery grave.

“My Dad was parked on Sheridan Avenue, waiting for his partner to arrive to investigate a North Shore arson case when he noticed a disturbance in the water down by the lake. As he watched, a white spectral figure in flight gear dragged himself up out of the lake onto the rocks by the shore. The transparent ghost then walked up the shore and passed in front of my father’s parked car. He crossed the road, oblivious to the cars going up and down the Avenue, intent on getting to his destination, Calvary Cemetery. He stopped at the closed locked gates. The ghost walked up and down in front of the gates several times is if seeking a way in, but nothing happened. My father was distracted by the headlights of his partner’s car pulling in behind him. When he looked back at the gates, the ghost was gone. The pilot apparently had been denied admission once again and left to continue his wandering until the living could provide him with a resting place.

“Dad didn’t share what he saw with his partner, but he told my mother. I could see my Dad was upset and that’s when I learned about my genetic future. They were going to tell me when I was older, but with the manifestation, they didn’t want me to have an unexpected encounter, before I knew why it was happening.”

“That’s sad,” Lee murmured sleepily. “Does the pilot still wander across the Avenue to try and get in?”

Chip smiled. “No, I will never see him. Apparently, while we were busting our hump at Annapolis, someone left the Calvary Cemetery Gate open and The Aviator made it in at last. At least, they say he was never seen again after that night, in or out of the cemetery...”*

Morton trailed off as he noticed Lee’s eyes were closed. He listened for a moment to Crane’s slow, relaxed breathing. Finally. Chip closed his own eyes for a moment, feeling very weary. It had been a night. He should get up and go back to his cabin.

He was awakened by something round and cool placed on his chest. The fingers that pressed into his wrist immediately afterward confirmed it. “How am I doing?” Chip asked, without opening his eyes.

“I told you to go to bed. Not keep watch in the chair. Why didn’t you bring him back once you found him?” Will’s voice was low, but firm.

“Lee didn’t want that. I figured if I got him down, instead of agitating him more, the horse pill you gave him would do the rest. It worked, didn’t it?

“Not exactly. That particular analgesic doesn’t have a sedative effect.” Jamieson let go of his wrist. “Safer with a head wound.”

“I wondered why he took so long to drift off. I thought it was adrenaline.”

“It probably was. Let me guess, you talked it out and he went to sleep.”

“Something like that.” Morton sat up in the chair. “Didn’t mean to nod off with him. I was going back to my rack.”

“See that you do.” Will stepped over to the illuminated desk to use the intercom.

Chip stood up quickly and intercepted his hand before Will could press the button down.

“If I tell you something, will you let Lee stay here?”

Jamieson glanced at his watch. “That would depend on what it is.”

“How would you like a solution for keeping him in Sick Bay?”

“Never happen,” the Doctor replied and reached out again.

Chip took him by the wrist. “Listen to me for one minute. Lee told me why he leaves.”

“He hates the place.”

“No, he said it’s because he can’t hear the comm in there.”

“He’s not supposed to. It’s designed so I only hear what I need to.”

“Can we undesign it?”

The Doctor relaxed in his grip. “What did you have in mind?”

“One rack toward the back, wired with a speaker that can receive everything that comes over the comm. Boots will wire it off the existing line in your office, but make it a separate channel, so the traffic only goes to the specific rack.”

“Lee won’t get any rest. It will only make him more determined to go.”

“He has to know what’s going on with the boat. I’m not saying have it on all the time, but if Lee can hear the orders and the watch changes, he’ll know that everything is A-Okay. At least until you are ready to release him.”

“Might work. Lee can hear he’s not needed, at least.” Jamieson straightened away from the intercom. “See what the Admiral says. I’m game for anything that doesn’t have me tracking him down in the middle of the night to bring him back.”

Chip glanced at his watch. “It’s almost dawn.” That would explain the crick in his neck.

“First labs of the day. I’ll skip the blood test. He lost enough. Lee’s vitals are good, for what he went through.”

“He’s resilient, once we get him down.”

“You seem to have more luck with that than I do.”

“Practice.” Morton shrugged. “You’ll get better, since Lee can’t seem to stay out of sections with collapsing bulkheads.”

“Much as I didn’t want him there, he made the difference between losing all eight and losing one. There was no way to save Harris.”

“Tell him that, will you.”

“Taking it hard?”

“You know how Lee is. He’d rather it had been him.”

“Only it wasn’t. He will have to accept that. It’s part of being in command.”

“Lee knows that. Doesn’t like it, is all.”

Jamieson shook his head. “And we aren’t going to change him.”

“Do you have to wake him? Can’t he sleep it off here?”

“Maybe.” Jamieson glanced at his watch again and then decided. “All right. But I’m telling the steward to make sure Lee eats something once he is awake.”

“Fair enough. Have him bring it up for two.”

“Will do.” The Doctor grinned. “Now, go to bed, mother hen.”

“In a minute. I have to get the light.”

“You’d better be in your rack when I send the steward or it will be your butt getting hauled down to Sick Bay. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Doc.”

“Good. I’m going back to mine, once I inform Jerry where his patient skipped out to.”

“Sleep well.”

Jamieson went out the door.

Chip moved to turn off the lamp, when a soft voice stopped him. “You certainly told him.”

Morton turned to find Lee’s eyes open. Crane didn’t look that awake, but he apparently wasn’t out for the count, either.

“Damn,” Chip answered. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Not his fault. Voices, touch tend to rouse me.” Lee’s eyes narrowed to half slits. “Don’t tell me the two of you don’t know that.”

Chip flipped the light off. “Go back to sleep. That’s the deal, unless you want to be hauled to Sick Bay. I’m falling asleep on my feet, so I’m out of here.”

“Who is Resurrection Mary?” Lee asked, a teasing note in his blurred voice.

“That is another story for the next bad night or injury, whichever comes first,” Chip replied firmly. “Knowing you, it won’t be long for either.”

“You’ll have to take me home with you and show me the cemeteries with all these restless souls.” Lee’s voice faded as his eyes closed.

“If I take you to the Willowbrook Ballroom, Mary will hitch a lift home with you, not me. I do not intend to waste my evening out on the town getting you a ghost date. Particularly, if she’s going to vanish as soon as we drive past Archer Cemetery!”* Chip half threatened as he took a step closer to the bed, but he could see Lee had fallen asleep again.

Morton needed to find his own rack and fast or he’d be the next one to go bump in the night. And he was way too tired to explain how that happened to Randy.

The End

*The North Shore Aviator and Resurrection Mary courtesy of Ursula Bielski.
Chicago Haunts: Ghostly Lore of the Windy City, Lake Claremont Press, 1997.

©Diane Kachmar, 2005. All rights reserved.