Haunted Shipwreck by S.D. Hintz Page A

all? He knew it! How could he have underestimated his gung-ho friend?
    A figure emerged from the fog and gasped. A warm embrace enveloped Jack. An aromatic odor clouded his head, quite unlike Hell’s foul stench.
    It was his mother’s perfume.
    “Oh, Jack! I thought I’d lost you!”
    His mother cried on his neck. A hand squeezed his shoulder. He thought his blurry vision was playing tricks on him.
    Willard, looking half-dead with a bloodstained face, stood behind him. “I’ll take that ten fer the hospital now.”
    Though everything had been lost - his best friend, his house, his antique collection - Jack still managed a ghost of a smile. The surviving townspeople may have had no idea what had transpired, but he knew that every Passing Bell tall tale was fact. He hoped he would never have to relive the legends again, or suffer through a retelling.
    Like iron submerged in water, Jack had every intention of letting his antique addiction rust away.
    Thunk!
    Jack looked to his feet. He crouched and picked up Bobby’s helmet. He removed his porkpie, handed it to Willard, and then placed the steel pot on his head. His mother smiled. Willard nodded, knowing he had lost his number one customer.