Chapter 6: Run,Ghostboy, run
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Adam knew the moment he locked eyes with them that he'd messed up.
The agents—those same two men in black—turned as one, the scanner in John's hand letting out a shrill beep. Ray's gaze flicked up, locking onto Adam, then to the mask still covering part of his face. But it wasn't the mask that made them freeze—it was his hair.
White. Ghost-white.
> "His hair…" John muttered. "You see that, right?"
> "Yeah," Ray said, his voice lower now, more serious. "The transformation's already begun."
Adam took a cautious step back. "Uh, I can explain."
You're looking... different," John muttered, angling the scanner toward Adam.
It beeped sharply. "Hair's ghost-white. It started, hasn't it?"
Adam instinctively touched his hair. He could barely recognize the white strands. He used to have a mop of messy black hair. Now it looked like someone had dipped his head in frost and fear.
"Started...what?" Adam asked, his voice rough and low. His fingers curled tighter around the edge of the dumpster.
Ray took a drag of his cigarette, exhaled, and said, "The bonding. That apple didn't just curse you, kid. It chose you."
Adam blinked. A chill rolled through him that had nothing to do with the wind.
''Who the hell are you people and what the hell do u want?'' He asked
Ray held up a hand in a calm, almost diplomatic gesture. "Kid. Listen. You don't know what you've gotten yourself into. That thing you ate? It wasn't just cursed—it's dangerous. You're lucky to still be alive. If you come with us quietly, we can help you."
Adam narrowed his eyes. "You mean 'help' like cutting me open and poking around my guts? Thanks but I'm good"
John frowned. "You're unstable. That apple's bonded with you—more deeply than we expected. If we don't extract it soon, your mind could snap."
> "Yeah, well, I already hear voices. Too late for that."
Ray sighed, tapping the side of his scanner. "Well,at least we tried."
The scanner began to morph. Not into a gun—more like a wide, flat gauntlet that extended over Ray's forearm, with thin antennae and softly glowing glyphs. Energy pulsed along its surface as Ray aimed it at Adam.
> "Non-lethal," John said, raising his own bracer. "We just need to slow him down."
Then everything exploded into motion.
The bracers let out twin pulses of crackling blue energy that zapped toward him like bolts of lightning. Adam dropped low, the shots slamming into the wall behind him and sending trash bags flying. He didn't wait for a second volley. He bolted.
Boots pounded behind him.
He rounded a corner, vaulted over a low crate, and took off down the alley, his feet barely touching the ground. Whatever changes that ghost-apple made, they were kicking in fast—his reflexes were sharper than ever. But so were the agents. He could hear them keeping up, boots slapping against the pavement in perfect sync.
"Again?" he muttered mid-sprint. "I was just chased like three chapters ago. Cut me some slack, writer!"
He veered left, then right, weaving through trash-strewn alleys. People turned and stared as he zipped past, a blur of white hair and panic. Behind him, the agents gave chase, surprisingly fast for guys in suits.
"Split up!" Ray barked.
''Crap.''
Adam skidded around another corner and made a sharp turn through a side street, hoping to throw them off. He raced past an old bookstore, ducked beneath a sagging clothesline, and leapt a rusted gate in one clean motion. Somewhere behind him, he heard the crackle of another energy pulse.
He leapt from rooftop to rooftop, adrenaline masking the fatigue starting to set in. His breath came in ragged bursts—the mask still covering his face. The voices in his head whispered louder. Some were laughing. Some were urging him to keep running. One voice—a little deeper, calmer—simply said: "Don't stop."
Another rooftop. Another leap.
Then pain shot through his shoulder.
It burned. He stumbled mid-air, hit the rooftop hard and rolled. A dart hissed in his jacket, embedding itself in the fabric.
"Dart guns?" he groaned. "Cheap shot."
He ripped it out and kept moving. The world tilted slightly. His vision blurred.
[GhostCode Status: Stable... Recalibrating.]
He gritted his teeth.
He had to lose them.
He landed awkwardly on a sloped roof, rolling to absorb the impact. The tiles beneath him shifted, nearly sending him sliding over the edge.
From the next rooftop, Ray appeared—already there.
> "Fast little punk," Ray muttered. "Let's see how you handle this."
He raised his bracer, firing a slow-charging orb of ghostly energy that homed in like a drone.
Adam cursed, diving off the rooftop and crashing into a pile of stacked cardboard boxes in the alley below.
He groaned.
Then John emerged from the opposite end of the alley. "End of the line."
"Nope," Adam said, eyes darting.
A fire escape ladder. Low enough to jump.
He sprang forward, running along the wall like a traceur possessed and kicking off to grab the rung. The ladder squealed under his weight, but it held. He scrambled up as John's bracer sparked again.
Ghost-blue bolts flew up and scorched the metal just below his foot.
He pulled himself over the rail and didn't stop moving. The rooftops of the city stretched before him—dirty, uneven, but full of escape routes. He darted across, leaping gaps, dodging chimneys, heart pounding. Below, the scanner's pulses tracked him like sonar.
Then, suddenly—
A wall.
High, metallic, and surrounded by rusted pipes. Too tall to climb in one go.
He turned—
And Ray was there.
> "Nowhere left to run," Ray said, stepping closer. "You're quick. I'll give you that. But this ends now."
Adam backed into the wall, gasping for breath. His fingers twitched. The whispers in his head were louder now, insistent. Urging.
"Don't do this," Ray said again, tone almost sympathetic. "We're not the enemy here."
"Maybe not," Adam said, eyes narrowing. "But you're still trying to lock me up."
The ghost-code in his body flared. His hair blazed brighter. The shadows near his feet curled unnaturally, twitching like they were alive.
Then—
A sound.
A low groan, ragged and hollow, like wind scraping through broken glass. The air turned cold—unnaturally cold. Adam's breath fogged in front of him, and a metallic taste coated his tongue.
Ray froze. "Wait. Did you hear that?"
Adam blinked, backing up instinctively. "That… that wasn't me."
The wall behind him began to shimmer—not like heatwaves, but like reality itself was bending. Metal creaked and warped as a jagged tear split open in its surface, peeling outward like skin.
Something crawled through.
A shape, twisted and flickering like static on a broken screen. It hissed—a sound that felt wet and wrong—as it dragged itself into the alley. Its limbs were too long, hair matted and coiling like wires. Its face… wasn't a face at all. Just hollow sockets, crying trails of smoke that hissed as they hit the ground.
A ghost.
A real one.
"What the hell?" Ray stepped back fast, raising his bracer, the glyphs flaring to life.
"That shouldn't be here!" John's voice crackled from below. "The readings didn't show any active spirits!"
Adam stood frozen, heart hammering so hard it made his chest ache. The ghost turned to him—slowly, deliberately—and in its hollow gaze, he saw something ancient. Hungry. Feral.
The voices in his head went quiet. Even they were afraid.
''Oh,you've gotta be kidding me''
And then—it lunged.