“Woah, woah. Hold on. You just told us a lot, and I need a second to process all of it.”

Holly sits down and rubs her temples.

“Yeah, you might imagine what my feelings have been.”

“But we were able to leave the airship and go to our plane earlier. Why didn’t it stop us then?”

“I’m not sure what the range on it is. It could be fifteen minutes walking distance in any direction, but I wouldn’t know since I can’t leave this area of the ship. When I try, I get stuck in place.”

“So, we’ll go find the captain’s quarters. Where is that?”

“It’s on the third floor, but I don’t remember where. I haven’t gone up in a long time. Not because I can’t, but because the captain is the worst of the bunch.”

“Do you mean to tell me there’s someone worse than a Nazi with machine guns shooting at you, or angry chefs wielding knives to throw?”

“Well, yeah, I do.”

Holly looks at me. Despair is spelled out on her face.

“I don’t know if I can do this, Tes. I don’t think… I don’t know if… I…”

She’s on the brink of a panic attack. Fortunately for her, I happen to be pretty experienced with this sort of thing.

It’s weird and awkward, but I grab her hand and sit down beside her. I try to show her how to breathe, hoping she’ll catch on and do some exercises with me. She eventually does. We breathe deeply and in sync, putting a focus on clearing the chaotic thoughts.

Normally, my dad would run his fingers through my hair, but I didn’t think it appropriate in this scenario. Besides, he hasn’t done this in years.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Am I actually beginning to like Holly? It’s amazing what a friendship you can make when you share a devastating experience.

“Okay,” she says, standing. “Let’s go. I’ve never been this thirsty in my life.”

Me neither, come to think of it. Not to mention Stacy is alone downstairs, likely still unconscious. If anyone requires water the most, it’s her.

“Allow me to lead the way,” the ghost says. She vanishes through the same door she came in, and we open it to follow her. The floor is as unstable as it was in the last hallway, but she blazes a trail.

“I can’t get hurt,” she says, “but I can still fall, which is pretty annoying, so I memorized the path everywhere I could.”

Holly nearly teeters off the edge with a misstep, but quickly regains her balance and gasps a sigh of relief.

“Here it is,” the ghost says. “The water storage.”

In front of us is a large metal tank with a spigot.

“Let’s hope there’s still some in it,” Holly says.

No kidding.

I turn the spigot, but nothing happens.

Holly laughs nervously. “Maybe it takes time to kick on?”

Our chances aren’t high.

I crank the handle further, and the spigot busts off. The years of rust and decay wore the metal down badly.

With all this rust, would any of it even be drinkable?

The sound of rushing water fills the room, and the tank rattles violently. Before I can move, a jet of water sprays from where the spigot once was, sending me flying off my feet. I land butt-first on the rickety ground.

“Water!” Holly yells, the happiest I’ve seen her all night.

Like two dogs at the backyard hose, we get down on all fours and start drinking. It’s pathetic and awkward and I never want to think or talk about it again, but we get as much as we can while the water pressure is high enough.

“We need something to carry this in for Stacy,” Holly mentions in between breaths, snapping us both out of our trance.

“There’s vases in a room over here,” the ghost says, showing Holly the way.

Twenty minutes later, the water pressure is gone, and we’ve filled four vases. We both got more than our fair share in our systems. Probably too much. I’m feeling a little queasy. Hopefully that’s not the rust or anything else that could’ve been sitting in decades-old water.

“Okay, now how do we get to the diner?” Holly wonders aloud.

“Oh, that’s easy. There’s a set of stairs in the next hallway down. I’ll show you to it.”

And so, once again, we follow a ghost—a literal ghost—to our friend in the diner, whose last and only paranormal encounter was running away from said ghost.

What has my life become?