Ghost, Interrupted

by Sonia Singh

  The voice thundered in her head. The evil in the desert!

  She cried out and clapped her hands to her ears. A gust of dry hot wind swept through the room.

  The ghost of the soldier was gone.

  Scott was sitting on the sofa, Anjali cradled against him.

  If it hadn’t been for her body turning cold, the lights going out, and the sudden wind, he wouldn’t have thought anything was happening. And that disturbed him.

  Spirits were tied to a location. They did not come calling. Even if certain movies suggested otherwise.

  “Why are ghosts always so ambiguous?” Anjali asked.

  “I don’t have any reference for this. I need to talk to Eddie.”

  She looked up at him. “You don’t know? I think I’m going to faint.”

  “I hate that I don’t know this. He looked like a soldier?”

  “Don’t ask me if he was army or navy.”

  “I can’t imagine what it must have been like…seeing him.”

  “I hope this isn’t the start of a new trend. Feeling them is one thing, but if they start showing up here, at my apartment or the 7-Eleven.”

  “I think your local 7-Eleven will be spirit free.”

  “Why? Doesn’t anyone haunt a 7-Eleven? Wouldn’t they be attracted to the mummified hot dogs?”

  He rubbed his cheek against her hair. “We’ll figure this out.”

  “I hope so.”

  44

  The call came the next morning.

  Scott and Eddie were in the library, going through all the reference books trying to find more information on apparitions seeking out the living, when the phone rang.

  Eddie answered and immediately opened his laptop and began typing, the phone cradled under his chin.

  Scott got up and went to stand behind Eddie’s chair. What he saw on the screen made him lean forward. Eddie had pulled up the website for a military facility—Blaine Air Force Base.

  According to the site, the base was scheduled to open the beginning of next year in California’s Yucca Desert.

  The ghost of a soldier.

  Eddie put down the phone. “You won’t believe this. At a time when our government is closing military bases all over the world, the one they spend hundreds of millions building turns out to be—”

  “Haunted.”

  “They want us to fly down to Yucca and get briefed by an official.”

  Scott leaned back against the desk so he was facing Eddie. “Have you ever heard of anything like this? An apparition traveling hundreds of miles to deliver a premonitory warning? A warning that comes true?”

  “Remember when I told you Vivica was involved in work with the government?”

  “Don’t tell me, this is it?”

  “No, but thanks to those same contacts she’ll be in Yucca too.” At Scott’s grimace, he grinned. “What can I say? It’s a small field. You’re bound to run into the same people again and again.”

  “I hear that the guys who study Mongolian throat singing have the same problem.” Scott pushed off the desk and started pacing. “When do they want us there?”

  “Two days. Every day that base stays closed is another gazillion dollars down the toilet.”

  The front door slammed shut and Coulter and Anjali’s voices sounded in the hallway. “In here,” Scott called out.

  “Nothing like a calorie-loaded champagne brunch to take the edge off a visit from a dead man,” Anjali said by way of greeting. “And I got to hear all about Coulter’s date last night. Turns out Robin Williams does a real funny Johnny Carson bit where he puts on a turban and pretends to be psychic. And Diana Moss can’t seem to enjoy a man without tying him up first.”

  Coulter pushed back his Stetson. “We’re goin’ out again tonight. Some pizza and light bondage, I reckon.”

  Anjali looked from Scott to Eddie. “What’s wrong?”

  “We’ve discovered something,” Scott said and told them about the military base.

  Anjali went over to the computer screen and studied the website. “Have there been any…deaths?”

  “They wouldn’t release any information,” Eddie said. “But based on last night—”

  “There have been,” she finished. “So when do we leave?”

  Scott touched her shoulder. “Are you sure about this?”

  “When a dead man comes from God-knows-where to ask you a favor, I think you should listen.”

  45

  The Blaine military base would soon be home to thousands of air force officers and their families. The possible haunted activity, however, was limited to the Flight Control Center—the pearl of the oyster.

  Vivica hated the desert. She found the wide openness oppressive. She was a city dweller through and through. But the desert wasn’t responsible for her irritation that morning. It was seeing Wilder, Eddie, and two people whose names she couldn’t bother to remember sitting across from her at the conference table.

  Oh wait, the remarkable specimen of masculinity was Coulter. Men that beautiful had only one working organ, though, and it was south of the pelvis.

  She supposed the woman in their group was pretty enough, but she was short. Vivica didn’t care for short people.

  There was something going on between the woman and Wilder though. Vivica could tell by the way he was looking at her. Once he’d looked at Vivica like that.

  Twisting open the cap of her water bottle, she leaned close to Maddox. “Hans is suitably restrained in the hotel room, is he not?”

  Taking a cue from Dr. Frankenstein, Vivica had discovered that classical music had a remarkable soothing effect on Hans.

  So did large doses of chlorpromazine and strong restraints.

  Maddox nodded. “Schubert and straps.”

  The double doors to the conference room opened and a sturdy-looking woman with a head of short gray hair and a trim athletic figure entered the room, flanked by two military escorts.

  Lieutenant Ann Jacobs, their military liaison on the case.

  She walked up to the podium, leaving the two officers standing at attention on either side of the door.

  Vivica turned her full attention to the front of the room.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” the lieutenant began in a firm, no-nonsense voice. “On behalf of our country’s government, I want to thank you for coming today. This is a highly unusual situation and we appreciate your expertise. As you know, this is a secret information briefing. I trust that the details will not leave this room.” A small smile played around her lips. “Although we weren’t very successful at keeping Roswell a secret, now were we?”

  Across the room Scott’s team was all grins and soft laughter. Maddox looked at Vivica and murmured. “Am I supposed to laugh?” Vivica shrugged and forced a polite smile.

  “Let me give you the big picture,” Lieutenant Jacobs said. “The military has put a billion dollars into a state-of-the-art property that is inoperable. We need it up and running. This base is integral to national security and it’s gathering dust.”

  Vivica wanted to interject a question but the lieutenant had asked that all questions and comments be held until the end of the briefing. She scribbled on the legal pad in front of her and noticed Scott and Eddie doing the same.

  “To reiterate,” the lieutenant continued. “The purpose of this briefing is to bring you up to date on the number of strange occurrences that have plagued construction of the Flight Control Center from the beginning. We’re talking equipment malfunction, power outages, theft of materials from the site along with personal belongings of the engineers and workers. The real trouble started with the moodiness and personality changes of the crew. Tempers were unusually high on the site. People were sensitive to the slightest look or comment. Fights broke out on a routine basis. One of our top engineers was removed from the base due to a nervous breakdown.

  “We’ve had officers stationed inside the center around the clock. When the morning shift arrived they found one of the night officers dead—
shot by his shift partner. The shooter had no memory of committing the act. I’ll spare you the details of the subsequent interrogations and psych evaluations. Suffice it to say that we all agreed to a plea of temporary insanity. And now I’ll open it up to questions.”

  “Lieutenant Jacobs,” Scott began. “Have—”

  “Have you found pockets of unusual electrical discharge?” Vivica asked. “Power bursts?”

  The lieutenant nodded. “It’s common to encounter power surges when wiring a new building, but the malfunctions we’ve experienced have been baffling. At this point we’ve given up trying to control the electrical problems.”

  Scott cleared his throat. “Did any one person seem to trigger the most occurrences? Serve as a catalyst?”

  Lieutenant Jacobs smiled. “Like the little girl in Poltergeist?”

  Coulter raised his hand. “That joke’s been done before. By me.”

  The lieutenant stared at him, puzzled.

  Vivica rolled her eyes and whispered under her breath. “Bloody clown.”

  The lieutenant turned her attention to Scott. “To address your question, Mr. Wilder, wouldn’t the officer who committed the shooting be considered a catalyst of sorts?”

  “Not exactly,” Scott said. “He was definitely affected, as was the discharged engineer, but I wouldn’t classify either as a catalyst. Their personalities, life experiences, and genetic makeup made them more susceptible to the environment. I’m looking for someone who always seemed to be around when the strange events occurred—whether they appeared affected or not.”

  “In that case,” Lieutenant Jacobs said, “the only catalyst I can think of—”

  “Is the building,” Vivica finished. “The Flight Control Center. This isn’t a case of accidental PK activity, Wilder.”

  “PK?” the lieutenant asked.

  “Psychokinesis,” Eddie answered with a smile. “We can lapse into jargon—or nerd speak—now and again.”

  Lieutenant Jacobs smiled back. “My ex-husband used to complain he had to dodge flying jargon whenever there was a dinner party at the base.”

  Eddie’s smile widened.

  Vivica drummed her fingers on the table impatiently. Eddie and the lieutenant could go have middle-aged sex in the back of a jeep for all she cared. But for now she wanted answers. She held up a finger. “If we could get back to the Q and A?”

  “Of course,” Lieutenant Jacobs said briskly.

  “I’m wondering about specific physical manifestations like vapors, clouds of smoke?”

  “Yes, Dr. Bates, we’ve had reports of black clouds of smoke that would appear randomly and dissipate just as quickly. What with the shooting and other major occurrences, that detail was left out of the official report.”

  Scott looked at Eddie and then Vivica. “Ectoplasm?”

  Even though she hated to agree with him, she nodded. “That’s my guess.”

  “Ectoplasm?” the short woman sitting next to Scott said. “As in, I got slimed?”

  Vivica rolled her eyes again.

  “Define ectoplasm,” the lieutenant said. “I’m afraid, like Ms. Kumar, that my only reference is Ghostbusters.”

  “There’s an ectoplasm cocktail.” Coulter leaned back in his chair and fixed his blue gaze on Vivica. “Lots of vodka, some Grand Marnier, and it’s got a kick like a mule.”

  “How illuminating,” she replied and turned to the lieutenant. “Ectoplasm is a force of dense bio-energy liberated during psychokinesis. A sort of teleplasmic mass.”

  “English please?” Lieutenant Jacobs said.

  Eddie responded. “The stuff that oozes out of ghosts and makes it possible for them to do the stuff they do, like move furniture, scare the crap outta you, etc.”

  “Now I get it. Thank you, Dr. Mirza.”

  Vivica curled her lip.

  “Ectoplasm isn’t always slimy either,” Scott said. “Appearance varies. One of its forms, though, is vaporous—gray, black, or white in color. Think of a self-propelled cloud of smoke, moving at its own speed, never losing denseness.”

  The lieutenant shook her head in wonder. “This is a lot to process. I happily admit to being out of my element here, but I can offer a suggestion. Why don’t we visit the site?”

  Scott held up his hand. “Wait. I want to know more about these personality changes. I’d like to talk to the engineer who was relieved of his duties.”

  Vivica frowned. “The personality shifts are incidental, Wilder. They could be caused by anything, the desert heat, work stress. I want to see firsthand what we’re dealing with.”

  Scott faced her. “Look, I want to get in there as much as you, but I can’t forgo the safety of my team until I know more.”

  “Well bully for you, but I appreciate the military’s need for urgent action.”

  “How about a compromise?” Lieutenant Jacobs said. “I agree; precautions need to be taken. I’ll have my aide bring up the engineer’s information.” She looked down at her watch. “It’s oh-nine hundred now. I’m scheduling a tour for sixteen hundred hours.”

  “What the hell time is that?” Coulter asked. “Do I add twelve? Multiply?”

  Vivica stood up. “Four P.M. We’ll be there.”

  The lieutenant gathered up her papers and smiled at all of them. “To reiterate, the Department of Defense appreciates both your teams’ expertise on this…unusual matter. You’re the best in the field, and we’re counting on you for a quick resolution. It will be looked upon most favorably, I assure you.”

  “She means more than just a thank-you, right?” Coulter asked.

  46

  Both groups assembled promptly at four o’clock in front of the Flight Control Center—a two-story wonder of steel and glass.

  Anjali was relieved when Vivica showed up with just Maddox in tow.

  “Where’s your trained psycho, Vivica?” Coulter asked. “The one who’s sharp as a mashed potato and makes the rest of us feel safe?”

  “This is just the rehearsal,” Vivica said coolly. “Hans will be ready when I need him.”

  Lieutenant Jacobs arrived in a sedan with two officers. Anjali reflected that in a desert with high temperatures of 119 in August, one didn’t want to be tooling around in an open military jeep.

  And then they were entering the center.

  The moment she stepped inside, a wave of dizziness hit Anjali. She leaned back against the wall as the room began to tilt.

  “What’s wrong?” Scott demanded. Behind him, Coulter and Eddie watched her with concern.

  Anjali pressed a shaky hand to her face. “Just a dizzy spell,” she said and pushed off the wall.

  Scott looked skeptical.

  She gave him a shaky smile. “I’m okay, really. Let’s get this over with.”

  “I wish I could have spoken with that engineer,” Scott said.

  “You left him half a dozen messages,” Eddie said. “He can still call back.”

  Their footsteps echoed through the empty building as they walked across the smooth white tile floor. Anjali thought about the dead soldier. So he’d been killed by a fellow officer, and possibly a friend. She was still unclear about his message. Had he been warning her to stay away from the base?—too late. Or did he want her to stop whatever was making people psycho in this place?

  A set of instructions would have been nice.

  Lieutenant Jacobs pointed out the damaged light fixtures. Coulter leaned up to touch one of them and the bulb sprang to life. He did the same with the next bulb over. The lieutenant and officers looked on in amazement.

  The tour continued. “It’s getting cold in here,” Eddie said. Everyone else agreed.

  Anjali touched her cheek. Her skin was warm. The whole place was warm.

  She pulled her tank top away from her body and wished she’d worn shorts instead of jeans.

  They left the entrance wing and headed down a long corridor of offices. None of the offices had doors installed yet and neither did any of the restrooms. As she passe
d by the second restroom, Anjali caught a glimpse of her face in the mirror.

  She grabbed on to the door frame and stared at her reflection. She looked horrible. Her hair was dull and lank, the ends split and thin. Her skin had an unhealthy sheen, and there were dark hollows under her eyes and lines around her mouth.

  “Angel, are you okay?” Coulter was touching her shoulder.

  She brushed his hand away. “I’m fine, just thirsty.”

  “Here.” Eddie handed her his bottle of water. “Do you still feel dizzy?”

  “No.” She took a quick sip and handed it back to him.

  Ahead of them, Scott was talking to Lieutenant Jacobs. Catching Anjali’s eye, he smiled.

  Annoyed, she turned to Coulter and Eddie. “I just wish Scott would shut up so we could get on with the tour.”

  The sound of doors closing and voices from the floor above silenced everyone.

  Coulter stated the obvious. “We’re the only ones in here right?” Lieutenant Jacobs nodded.

  “I want to see the upstairs,” Vivica said.

  Anjali lingered behind and looked in the mirror again. If anything, she looked even worse.

  “Anjali?” Scott was calling her.

  Irritation welled inside her. The man hovered around her like she was a child who needed constant supervision.

  Scott was beside her, tilting her chin so he could look into her eyes.

  She pushed his hand away. “I’m fine. I know I look hideous, but I’m fine.”

  She brushed by him and went to join the others.

  Lieutenant Jacobs was talking. She swept her hand through the air. “This is where black clouds of smoke have appeared and gone.”

  Anjali blinked and tried to focus on the older woman. Where were they?

  The last she remembered, she’d been walking away from Scott. Now she was on the second floor listening to the lieutenant.

  She had no memory of how she’d gotten there.

  Anjali’s heart pounded. What the hell was going on? She grabbed the person next to her. “Wait. How did we get up here?”