They found the woman at the base of a bridge once again whole after decades of forlorn existence. The ghost looked up at the bridge with an enigmatic smile that Paulie recorded for posterity.
Dolan kneeled at Cynthia’s side and moved lights until he could see her face, the stalk lights bent wildly to either side of her head. Her eyes were open and drowsily moving to his actions. Her breathing seemed labored, with a small trace of blood on her lips.
Looking up, Brock tried to gauge the distance she had fallen and guessed it to be near twenty-five feet. That was a hell of a fall for a person to land on their back. Branches littered the ground around Cynthia, suggesting trees, which were no longer visible, had slowed her descent.
“Paulie, call for the ambulance,” Brock kneeled next to Dolan and helped the man remove the cumbersome harness from Cynthia.
“Don’t waste your time,” Anthony advised as he watched the rescue impatiently. “I can’t raise anyone, including my people in the valley.” He gave the ghost a dark look, then stared north.
“He’s right,” Paulie added with a hand to his receiver; the line was completely silent.
“Anthony,” Brock looked at the distracted man, then threw a stone that hit the effect man’s leg, snapping him back to the present. “Go get the ambulance.”
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“I have to go north,” Anthony replied with finality. Without another comment, he walked around the bridge pylon and hurried north.
“Damn it,” Brock stood and walked the direction they had come. “I’ll go.”
Paulie did not notice his friend’s departure. The ghost was still looking up when Anthony broke from the party and out of curiosity; the cameraman had panned his camera up towards the night sky.
The massive cloud hanging overhead seemed low enough to touch. For miles around the valley, the clouds were racing in streamers to the single cloud that resisted the wind. The ghost had not been smiling at the bridge; it was watching the storm grow. It was smiling at the storm.
Far above the valley, static electricity discharged in a rapid-fire series of lightning that stretched out like a huge fan never touching the ground.
Paulie jerked his head away from the camera and blinked the dazzle from his eyes. “I think we need to get out of here,” he said with the expectation of a reply.
None came as Dolan worked on the woman, hoping he was doing the right thing. She seemed to breathe with less trouble, but that was the least of his worries. Cynthia might have broken her neck or back. If he were to move her, she might suffer permanent damage.
The ghost was gone. Paulie looked for the spirit in vain, then noticed Brock was also missing. He panicked; the reporter must have followed Anthony north, and he missed the departure. They were a team and no matter how he might ignore the truth; Brock needed him; the reporter needed his eyes.
Casting another glance skyward, to see more lightning reveal the top of the cloud was billowing outward as if it was incapable of supporting itself, Paulie shouldered his camera and hustled north, hoping he was not too far behind Brock.