CHAPTER THREE

Amy turned, looking for the voice of the man, but initially saw nothing. When she lifted the pistol again, he spoke once more.

"Please. Please don't do this," he pleaded.

Amy swallowed as the vision of a man crossing the bayou, seemingly floating across the water on no boat, came into view. He was tall, at least he appeared tall floating on the water, wide across the shoulders and chest, and a thick head of auburn hair.

"Wh-what?" She felt herself weaving back and forth in the boat, losing the grip on the pistol. As it hit the bottom of the bateau, the firearm triggered twice, boring two holes into the aluminum. She fell backwards, hitting her head on the narrow seat behind her, and was out.

"No," said Marcel. "No, no, this cannot happen."

He looked down at the angelic face, feeling a sense of panic. The boat was taking on water quickly, and he wasn't going to be able to save her. This couldn't happen. She was too young. Too beautiful.

"Matthew, my ancestor, if you can hear me, please help me," he cried out.

Marcel heard nothing, but he couldn't float away, letting the woman sink. Stepping into the boat, he was surprised that he felt the water against his ankles. Kneeling beside the woman, he gently slid one arm beneath her head and was shocked to feel the weight of it on his arm. He held it firmly, his arm not passing through her own flesh, instead holding it.

With his other arm, he lifted her legs, cradling her against his chest. Slowly, he floated across the bayou to the ground where he'd begun this day. Lying her on the ground, he used all the forces in his body to call for help.

"We are on our way, my friend," said Noah in his head.

Marcel simply nodded, not at anyone in particular. The voice of Noah couldn't see him nodding. Or maybe he could. He still had one hand behind the woman's head and marveled at the feel of her silky curls against his skin.

"How can this be?" he whispered. Behind him, two ATVs pulled up with Wilson, Noah, Matthew, Ajei, and Irene.

"What happened?" asked Wilson.

"She was in that bateau out there, the one sinking, and was about to place a pistol in her mouth."

"Poor child," said Irene, touching the girl's cheek. "Something terrible must have driven her to do this."

"I didn't think she would hear me, but I had to do something. I told her not to do it. I think I shocked her, and she dropped the pistol, firing two holes in the boat. Then she fainted."

"Marcel, how did she get here? How did she get to the beach?" asked Wilson.

"I-I lifted her. I prayed for help, and then I lifted her and carried her across." Wilson stared at his hand, still holding her head.

"Can you lift her now? Lift her onto the stretcher on the ATV," he said, wanting to test Marcel's new abilities.

"I'll try," said Marcel. He placed his arm beneath her legs, the other sliding lower on her back, and lifted her once again, settling her on the stretcher.

They all looked at one another, then at Matthew and Irene.

"Ajei? You and Noah get back to the clinic," said Wilson. "I'll have her there in a minute." Ajei knew enough not to argue with Wilson. She nodded, then looked at Noah, who followed her. As they left, Wilson turned to the older couple.

"Did you do this?" he asked Matthew.

"Marcel prayed for help to save a young woman. I helped him," he said.

"Matthew, Marcel shouldn't be able to touch her. None of the ghosts have ever been able to touch live human flesh. How do you explain this?" asked Wilson.

"Sometimes, things cannot be explained, son. The girl is alive and just appears to have a bump on her head. Let's get her to the clinic and see how we can help."

Before Wilson could say anything else, they were in the back of the ATV, both watching over the prone body of the young woman. Wilson turned to Marcel.

"Have you ever been able to ride in one of the vehicles?" he asked.

"Never. It's been a dream," he grinned.

"Well, let's see if this dream continues for you." He walked toward the ATV, watching as Marcel moved around the strange contraption. He looked different somehow, but Wilson couldn't put his finger on it. As he stood at the door, Wilson nodded at him.

Slowly Marcel reached to touch the leather of the seat, watching as his hand rested on the back. It didn't pass through. It didn't disappear. He touched it and felt the smooth finish of the leather.

"I-I can feel it," he whispered.

"Get in, Marcel. We'll figure this out later. I need to look at the girl."

The entire way on the path, Marcel ran his hand along the door, the dash, then finally reached over and touched Wilson's big arm. It was firm and strong, just as it looked, but he was also warm.

"You feel warm," he said to Wilson.

"So do you," frowned the other man. "Irene? Matthew? How?"

"I honestly don't know," said Irene, shrugging. "Y'all know I prayed for a companion for Marcel when all the ghosts appeared, but she's flesh and blood."

"Maybe your prayer was backwards," said Wilson. "Maybe the woman was praying for someone, and it helped Marcel."

Cruz and Doc were waiting to take the stretcher into the emergency room, Marcel staring at them all, unsure of what to do. When he reached the door, he touched the handle and was surprised that he was able to turn it and enter like any other human being.

"Marcel, have a seat in the waiting area," said Ajei. He nodded, unsure of what to do. He walked through the halls like any other human, sat in the chair, and two little boys stared at him.

"Mister, how come you're dressed funny?" asked one of the boys.

At first, Marcel didn't know what to say. He looked behind and beside him, then back at the little boys.

"Justin! That's not nice. You apologize to the man."

"Sorry, mister."

"I'm sorry, you must have been at one of the reenactments," said the boy's mother. Marcel nodded, unable to speak at all. As the clock ticked and others arrived, Gaspar and Nine took him to the back of the clinic.

"Marcel, what happened?" asked Gaspar.

Marcel moved toward him, reaching out to touch the fabric of his shirt. Gaspar frowned at him, waiting for the cold sensation that inevitably happened. Instead, he felt warm skin gripping his shirt. His eyes were enormous, utterly shocked.

"What the shit?" growled Nine. The once ghostly figure reached for him as well, and Nine instinctively reached to block his hand, surprised when he gripped flesh. Marcel was big. Nearly as big as Alec and Tailor.

"Fuck me, what did Mama do now?" whispered Gaspar.

"I don't think it was your mother," said Marcel in a whisper.

"Pops?" he frowned.

"I'm not sure. I went to help the woman in the boat, to try and convince her not to kill herself. She dropped the gun, and it shot holes in the boat. I was so frightened, so I prayed that I could help her, and I was able to do so. I lifted her and carried her across the water. I touched her, and now, I can touch everything."

"Okay, we have two things we need answered. One, why did that young woman want to kill herself, and two, how the fuck are you back to life."