Chapter 2: The Price of Fear

At that time, I was out delivering pizza when the hospital called me as Natalie’s emergency contact.

I’d just handed off a meat lover’s special to a regular on Grant Avenue when my phone buzzed. I saw the hospital’s name and nearly dropped the insulated bag. The sky outside had turned the color of old steel—classic Maple Heights weather before a storm.

When Natalie saw me arrive, she burst into tears and told me everything.

She looked so small in that hospital bed, gown twisted, hair matted to her forehead. The story tumbled out between hiccupping sobs, her hands shaking as she recounted the scam. I squeezed her fingers, not trusting myself to speak.

A nurse nearby said these scams happened all the time at the hospital, and that particular old woman had been caught several times.

The nurse, a tough woman with a faded rose tattoo, muttered, “That old bat’s been pulling her act here for years. Security’s useless—she’s like a ghost.”

But she was over seventy. Even when the police came, they had to help her up to question her and didn’t dare lay a finger on her.

The last time they tried to escort her out, she played up her arthritis, got the cops all flustered, and left with a free meal from the cafeteria. The whole staff called her "Teflon Granny."

She’d even earned a nickname: Ghost Granny.

They say she’s been around since the old county hospital days—always vanishing right before the cops could nab her, never seen by the same person twice.

The law couldn’t do anything to people like her.

"She knows every loophole," the nurse said with a sigh, "and all the sob stories. Welcome to Maple Heights."

Finally, the nurse tried to reassure us:

"It’s all just superstition. Don’t take it to heart."

She patted Natalie’s shoulder, voice softening. “There’s bad people everywhere, but curses only work if you let ‘em. You’ll be fine, sweetheart.”

I added, "Isn’t there a saying online now? Just because you touched it doesn’t mean you agreed to it."

I tried to lighten the mood, quoting a viral tweet—"If scams could work just by touching something, I’d be rich from all those phishing emails, right?" Natalie almost managed a laugh.

But Natalie cried even harder.

She squeezed my hand until her knuckles went white. “What if it’s real, Caleb? What if something actually happens to my mom, to you? I just feel so… so dirty.”

"But I just feel so grossed out! Why can people do such awful things, and I’m supposed to just let it go?"

Her voice trembled, high and angry. She curled in on herself, shoulders shaking, as if trying to disappear.

At the foot of the bed sat the medical record folder and the Ghost Granny’s cursed bill. Natalie didn’t dare throw them away, even if she wanted to.

She stared at the folder like it might bite. The bill lay inside, those red words burning into her memory. She kept glancing at it, then away, afraid to touch it, afraid to let it go.

"What if it’s real? If I refuse it, will my whole family really die?"

Her whisper was barely there. My chest tightened—her fear was real, and I couldn’t brush it off with logic.

I picked up the items, looked at them, and slipped them into my own backpack.

The folder was colder than it should’ve been. I zipped it into the small front pocket, the one where I usually kept my tip money.

"Alright, now the debt is transferred. This thing belongs to me."

I tried to sound steady, even joking a little. “Worst case scenario, I’ll just pay it off with pizza coupons.”

"But what if you just borrowed it? What if you die?"

Her eyes were wide, searching my face for reassurance. I brushed a stray hair off her cheek, forcing a smile.

I thought, how could that happen?

No way. Not with who—and what—I am.

Don’t be fooled by my day job as a pizza delivery guy.

If only she knew what happened after I clocked out. If only she understood why I never let her walk home alone, why I always checked the locks twice before bed.

At night, I’m a Soul Ferryman—a messenger of the underworld.

It’s not a gig you put on your résumé. My deliveries don’t end at the front door; sometimes, they start at the threshold between worlds. And tonight, the toll for breaking the rules might be higher than anyone in Maple Heights could imagine.