Ghostfinders 03 -Ghost of a Dream

horrid sense of purpose.
    “You had to ask, didn’t you?” said Lissa. “How dangerous can they be? Look at them!”
    A subtle frisson of horror ran through JC as he remembered an old childhood terror. Of how discarded clothes can look on a chair at night, or hanging from a door; of how they could seem to come alive…or look very much as though they might. In the dark of a child’s bedroom. As a young child, JC had wondered whether clothes ever felt angry at being worn and used and moved around under someone else’s control. Made to go places and do things and make movements…that they wouldn’t have chosen to, themselves. On their own. And sometimes he’d wondered whether, when the clothes were finally taken off and laid aside and left to their own devices till morning…whether they might not someday rise and take their revenge?
    “Lissa,” JC said quietly, not taking his eyes off the rows and rows of silently watching clothes stacked before him. “I think this might be a good time to get the hell out of here.”
    “About time!” said Lissa.
    She went over to open the door, then stopped and looked at it.
    “Who closed the door, JC? I didn’t close the door.”
    “Don’t sweat the small shit, Lissa,” said JC. “Let’s get out of here.”
    Lissa reached for the door handle, then stopped again as she realised JC wasn’t coming back to join her. “JC, come on! I’m not leaving without you!”
    “It’s all right,” said JC. “I know what to do. I’ve been trained to deal with shit like this.”
    “Like
this
?” said Lissa.
    “Well, maybe not quite like this,” said JC. “I’m thinking this is probably some kind of large-scale poltergeist activity…But either way, I can’t run off and leave this happening. Someone might get hurt.” He squared his shoulders and took a step forward, to confront the standing costumes. “Listen up!” he said loudly. “I am JC Chance, Ghost Finder in good standing. Licenced to kick supernatural arse. What do you want, clothes?”
    There was no response. JC wasn’t exactly surprised. There wasn’t anyone in the clothes to answer. But the more he looked at the various costumes, the spookier they seemed. The lack of heads, of faces, was particularly disturbing. How can you hope to negotiate with, or even threaten, something that has no head to listen with? The more he looked, the more he found to unsettle him. The clothes had no eyes; but they could still see him. Still know exactly where he was. Every single outfit was orientated on him. And none of them had any of the bulges,or fullness, that you’d expect from the bodies that should be inhabiting them. The sleeves were flat, and the legs didn’t bend. These weren’t clothes worn by invisible men; they were clothes, moving under their own impulses. Animated, not inhabited. He couldn’t decide whether that was worse, or not.
    He said as much to Lissa, who nodded stiffly. “It’s worse. We’re definitely not alone in this theatre. Someone else is in here with us, doing this.”
    She broke off abruptly, as the costumes lurched forward. Row upon row of the things, advancing on JC and Lissa. There was a horrid sense of purpose, of open menace, in their jerky, deliberate movements. Materials rubbed together in a rough susurrus, as though the clothes were whispering to each other. They bustled against each other in their eagerness; but there wasn’t the sound of a single footstep.
    “Definitely time to get the hell out of Dodge,” said JC.
    He turned his back on the slowly advancing clothes as an act of defiance and hurried over to join Lissa at the door. She was looking blankly at the moving costumes as though hypnotised, as though she couldn’t believe it was happening. JC grabbed the door handle and rattled it hard; but it wouldn’t turn. He stepped back and charged forward, putting his shoulder to the door; but while the heavy wood jumped and rattled loudly in its frame, it wouldn’t open.
    “That isn’t going to work!” Lissa said angrily, snapped out of her daze. “The door opened inwards; remember?”
    “Now you tell me,” muttered JC, rubbing at his bruised shoulder. “Do you see anything in here we can use to break down the door?”
    “No. Nothing. You think maybe that’s deliberate? Because I sure as hell do. I told you this was a trap!”
    “Try not to lose it just yet, Lissa,” said JC. “There are still options.” He moved to stand between her and the advancing