by Reyna Favis
“Look away,” Cam warned. I averted my eyes just as the bright white light blazed behind me.
Smiling broadly, I looked to where the portal had been. “Wow, that was worth the price of admission!”
Cam grinned back at me. “Truer words were never spoken.” He stood up and hoisted his pack. “Let’s continue on the trail and see if we can spot Marina. Zackie will catch up.”
Walking slowly down the trail and looking closely into the brush, we made our way past the old farm house. Every few steps we called out for Marina and gave her a chance to answer. As I checked a muddy area for evidence of footprints, I queried Cam about Zackie’s history. “Where did Zackie come from? I know she’s been with you for a number of years, but was she ever a puppy?”
“For as long as I’ve known her, she’s been as she is.” He paused for a moment to think. “That’s going on thirty years now. She came to me from an old woman who lived in the hills of North Carolina. Lummie was what they called a sin-eater.”
“Sounds ominous, but just about right for someone who associates with Zackie.” My monkey brain engaged and I cocked my head at him. “So, tell me, what’s a sin-eater? And why were you in North Carolina?”
“I was looking for relatives. A number of Scots ended up in North Carolina after the Rising in 1745.”
“But I thought you were British! You don’t have a Scottish accent.”
“Ramsay is a Scottish surname. I grew up in the Cotswolds and that’s in England. Anyway, back to Lummie. Lummie was a sin-eater, so she would attend funerals among the hill folk and consume a ritual meal that took away the sins of the departed. This was done so they would not walk after death. The lifestyle pretty much put her on the outskirts of that society, even though it was really Zackie who kept the dead from walking.”
“Was Lummie a sibyl?” I asked.
“Yes. She was also a distant relative of mine, so this was not surprising to me. Zackie had been with her since she was a girl and she was near ninety when we met.”
“How did Lummie and Zackie get together?”
“Zackie had been passed down through the female line in that family for many generations. As far as I could tell, Zackie originally came to the New World around 1760 with the Plott brothers and a slew of Hanoverian Hounds. Johannes and Enoch Plott were the sons of one Elias Isaac Plott, who was master of hounds for a local aristocrat in the Black Forest of Germany. Seeing no real future for Johannes and Enoch in the Old World, Elias counseled them to depart for the American colonies and make a new life for themselves in a new world. Depending on who you believe, the boys were either gifted with hounds upon their departure or they simply helped themselves to some dogs from the baron’s kennels on their way out.” Cam gave a conspiratorial wink as he continued the story. “Either way, they set sail for the New World laden with dogs. Enoch did not survive the journey, but Johannes made it to North Carolina where he bred these hounds with native stock to arrive at today’s Plott Hound. For a while, they were known as Plott Bear Hounds. Their ancestors had hunted boar in the Black Forest, so their strength was in hunting big game and both bear and boar were plentiful in the hills. Lummie’s line married into the Plott line and somewhere along the way, Zackie became something of a family heirloom.”
“So, Zackie is originally German?”
“Well, the German’s have the bargeist, meaning spirit of the funeral bier. It’s supposed to be a monstrous nocturnal dog with huge teeth and claws. Anyone who saw it would die soon afterwards. I think Zackie has been around for a long, long time, and Germany might be somewhere more recent in her travels. One of the oldest gods of Egypt is Anpu, the Jackal God, Guardian of the Veil and Guide of the Soul. I can’t help but think Zackie had some involvement there.”
I guess my face must have screwed up and betrayed my thoughts, because Cam just said, “What?”
“So, Zackie is this immortal creature pretending to be a search dog and she goes around sticking her nose in people’s crotches? There’s something of a contradiction here.”
“The world is full of contradictions. I’ve stopped being disturbed by this. And Zackie does not just pretend to be a search dog, she is actually quite good at it. She works hard at trailing, in fact. I think one of the problems with being immortal is that you have to continually find ways to keep yourself entertained. This is probably why we joined SAR. I think this is also where the crotch business comes in. I’ll wager she finds it funny.”
I considered this as I searched the underbrush and deer paths for any sign of Marina. As I crouched down to shine my flashlight along another muddy patch, the radio crackled and announced that Task 14, Steve and Merlin, had a find. We held our position and waited to find out the subject’s condition and if a carry out was necessary. As Task 14 requested a stokes basket and a team for carry out, Zackie appeared out of the woods and joined us on the trail.
The radio crackled as IC tried to reach us. “Task 11, Command.”
“Go for Task 11,” I replied.
“Proceed to coordinates and join Task 20 for carry out. Prepare to receive coordinates.” The speaker paused to give us time to respond that we were ready to record the location. “Coordinates: Easting 491951.7 Northing 4509822.1. Read back and confirm.”
I scribbled down the UTM coordinates on the pad I carried in my chest harness, read them back to IC for confirmation and then advised IC that Task 11 was clear from the communication channel. Plugging the values into my GPS, I determined our heading and began walking with Cam and Zackie to the location of the subject.
By the time we arrived, Marina had been secured by straps into the stokes basket and volunteers were taking up positions for the carry out with three to a side. Each person was partnered with someone of similar height to make the ride as smooth as possible for the subject. As the team moved out, Cam and I began clearing brush and obstacles that could trip the litter bearers. The progress was slow, but sure. When a woman of about my height raised her hand to request respite from carrying the litter, I came in behind her, grabbed the handle near her hand and tapped her on the back to let her know she could release the basket and move away. She replaced me in clearing the brush, while I now helped to carry Marina back to the visitor center.
Just as I began to settle into the rhythm of the walk, a man at the front of the litter near the subject’s head suddenly cried, “Drop right!” I was on the right, so I dropped to my knees and did my best to immediately bring the edge of the litter down to the ground quickly and gently. Those on the left tipped their side of the litter up and held it in position so that Marina was now on her side, but still held in place by the straps. She was vomiting and would have choked had the command not been given. The man who told us to drop was speaking soothingly to Marina as he cleared her mouth and cleaned her face. When she was ready, we righted the litter so that she was again resting on her back and we continued the walk back.
When we reached IC, the EMTs from the ambulance took over and Marina was prepped for the ride to the hospital. Lucy was right at her side and I could see the relief wash over her. With the search completed successfully, we debriefed and signed out, each of us heading to our vehicles. All in all, the search had been quick and efficient. It was only 10 PM and while I envied the folks who didn’t have to get up until sunrise, I was happy to get what sleep I could before I had to work the paper route again.
Before I managed to stuff my gear in the trunk of the car, Cam tapped me on the shoulder. “Let’s talk with Joel tomorrow to see how things fared with Lucas and his toys.”
“I’m off work at three tomorrow and Joel usually comes home around five or six. Let’s aim for a debrief with him around seven, okay? I’ll slip a note under his door before I turn in tonight.”
Cam nodded his agreement to the plan and ambled off to his own vehicle. Zackie was already making herself comfortable in the back of the truck, unperturbed by the night’s activities and the things left undone.
# # #
I stretched luxuriantly in my bed and tried to relax into a sleepy state. My belly was full of the second round diner leftovers and I should have felt drowsy. No good. I flipped and tried again. Still no good. I was too keyed up from the search and sleep was evasive, so I did what all the experts on insomnia rail against: I turned the TV on and tried letting the droning of the broadcast lull me to sleep.
Just as I my eyelids started to droop and I could feel the pull of sleep, I heard a familiar voice. “While we tried everything at our disposal to make contact with the ghost of the bride…” I immediately sat up, wide awake again. This was the end of the show Lucas had taped on the weeping bride ghost. When I heard him end the commentary with, “Sometimes, this is the way investigations go and you just have to roll with the punches,” I waited for the credits to roll, but then realized that he wasn’t done yet. “But sometimes, investigations become more interesting with a reanalysis of events,” he continued. “Watch this infrared footage of the church’s graveyard. Keep a close eye on the upper right area of your screen and you’ll see an orb that our investigators captured.”
At the word “infrared,” I grabbed my phone and hit the speed dial for Cam. “Cam! Turn on channel 38 – hurry!” I watched as the infrared footage was looped again and again with arrows drawn in and pointing to the small flash of light. While it was confusing to me why high tech gadgetry could not capture the magnitude of light released from the true event, it was infuriating to me that Lucas dared to use this footage without our consent.
“Baah-stard!” I heard Cam yell over the phone.
I was too riled up to be amused at his choice of pejorative. “This guy is really starting to piss me off, Cam.” I watched again as the scene looped a final time. “The only good thing is that no one can tell that’s us in the clip.”
“Well, this time, anyway. There’s no telling what Lucas is willing to do for ratings. He knows we’d probably only sue as a last resort, because that would just bring us to the attention of the media. Even if we tried filing anonymously, I don’t have faith that our identities wouldn’t be leaked. The show is too popular and journalists can usually find a way to get information. ”
I took a slow, deep breath and then blew it out. “So, what exactly are our options?”
“Avoid him, if possible. The problem is that we’ve piqued his interest. Between the Moravian Cemetery and the Changewater house, he won’t just chalk it up to coincidence.” Cam yawned mightily over the phone. “I’m going to bed. There’s nothing we can do about this right now.”
CHAPTER 7
When I returned from my paper route, I found a response from Joel slipped under my door. Appended to the note I left him the night before, Joel had scribbled a request to meet at the Changewater house at 7 PM. Before taking a shower and changing, I sent a quick text to Cam to let him know where we’d meet that evening. I had no doubt Lucas was still on the job and we’d run into him. I spent the entire day at the restaurant spoiling for a fight and my tips took a nose dive. I could not wait to confront that twerp.
Arriving at Changewater that night, I saw Cam had gotten there first. Fortunately, there was no sign of Joel or any of the other construction guys. Cam was yelling at Lucas and appeared to be absolutely livid. I got out of my car and walked to his side, presenting a united front.
“And this is in no way legal! Do you know for how much we could sue your show? Not to mention you personally?” Cam yelled. His face was red and his fists were bunched at his sides.
“So, sue me,” Lucas responded. He was leaning against his car and picking at his nails. His eyeliner was perfect. It was clear he saw through the bluster and knew that Cam and I would not risk exposing ourselves to the media by bringing a legal suit.
“We don’t have to sue you,” I retorted. “What makes you think there aren’t other ways of evening the score?”
“Well, you’d have to be careful about that,” Lucas said as he reached into his car to pull out some sort of ghost hunting device. “Cross the line and I will sue you. We’d all get attention from the media and I’d get free advertising for my show. Same result for you and I’d get some giggles out of it.”
“I will clear the area wherever you want to work,” I told him. “You’ll never get anything on film again to entertain your viewers and your ratings will plummet.”
Lucas tilted his head and raised his eyebrows as he looked at me. His unqualified skepticism was unmistakable. “Oh, please, be my guest,” he said.
I could feel the color rising in my face and my jaw clenched. This was the last straw. I spent my life trying to avoid letting people know about my abilities. The one time I speak honestly about it and this guy dismisses me as a fraud or a liar. Cam saw the brewing storm and tried to prevent any more revealing statements, “Uh, Fia, I don’t think—”
“You don’t believe I can do it?” I screamed at Lucas.
“I don’t believe anyone can do it!” Lucas roared back at me. “This stuff isn’t real! There are no spirits of the dead waiting to be either interviewed by me or banished by you!”
“Whoa, you don’t actually believe that the dead come back?” I was stunned. “You’re deliberated lying to your viewers! I cannot believe that you’d exploit a basic human fear of death to make profit!” I gaped at him, staggered by his admission. “People may have lost someone or may be dying and they watch your show because they’re desperate for hope. How can you take advantage of vulnerable people like that?” In some ways, I felt jubilant to expose him like this, but in other ways, I felt disgust. This was the most cynical thing I’ve ever encountered.
“I never lie to my viewers,” he said in a more normal volume as he fought to regain control. “I show them exactly what the instruments produce. They draw their own conclusions. I have never, never told anyone that an instrument reading is evidence of a ghost.” I could almost hear the missing sentence, that there’s a sucker born every minute.
I looked at Cam and he looked back at me with a mirror of my own expression. We were both shocked and too disturbed by Lucas’ callousness to speak. Anything for ratings, anything for money and he had the perfect alibi. The silence stretched, more uncomfortable than the screaming had been. Joel pulled up just in time to fill the conversational void.
Joel climbed out of his truck and looked closely at each of us, as if he could size up the amount of discord based on facial expressions. “What’s happened?” Joel asked. “Something’s not right…”
“Just a minor disagreement,” Cam replied.
“Feels kind of major, if you ask me,” Joel said.
Trying to defuse the situation, I turned to Cam and said, “I thought you were going to go all Monty Python on him.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Cam asked, quirking an eyebrow at me.
“You know, call him a malodorous heap of parrot droppings… Or tell him that his mother was a hamster and his father smelt of elderberries.”
“You’re too young to know those skits,” Cam said with a slight smile.
“Apparently, I watch a lot of subversive television.”
“If you’ll all excuse me, we have a lock down to do,” Lucas interrupted.
“What’s a lock down?” asked Joel.
“We’re going to lock ourselves in the house and prevent anyone else from entering. We’ll record whatever happens without the possibility of contamination from unknown persons,” Lucas explained.
“I suppose that sounds reasonable…” Joel hesitated. “Are they going with you?” Joel indicated Cam and me.
“Why not?” Lucas replied. He was smirking and appeared pleased by Joel’s suggestion. What better footage could he get than unwilling subjects forced to participate in his sham operation?
Cam considered that smirk for a moment and then said, “I think we’re better off investigating the outside of the premises. We’ll leave the interior, for now, to Lucas and his team.” Lucas shrugged and motioned to his crew to join him in the house. I went with C
am to his truck to retrieve Zackie.
As Lucas and his team shut and secured the front door, I turned to Joel and said, “If you have a moment, we’d like to hear about your experiences with Lucas so far.”
“Not much to tell, really. Lucas poked around the house yesterday and took a bunch of readings with his instruments. Nothing happened worth mentioning.”
“Did he in any way try to provoke the spirits?” Cam asked. “You know, did he yell insults or do anything in the house to try to anger them?”
“No, it was all pretty quiet,” Joel said. “He just walked around and took readings. I honestly thought there’d be fireworks or something yesterday. I know what I saw, but nothing like that happened to him. That’s what I told my crew and it made folks feel better about returning to work today.”
“And nothing happened during the work day?” I asked.
“Not a thing. No smells, no cold… everything seemed pretty normal. Maybe Lucas fixed something with his gadgets.”
“No, I don’t think so,” Cam said as he scanned the fields. “Let’s head up the road a bit.”
“I don’t think anyone needs me for anything and I’m okay with never seeing anything like that little girl again. I’m going to head home. I’ll to talk to you all tomorrow,” Joel said, climbing back in his truck.
Preoccupied by what we sensed across the field and up the road, we gave Joel a distracted wave goodbye. As he went on his way, we also took to the road. Zackie had her nose in the air and based on her behavior, she was scenting strongly what we could sense weakly. As we got closer to whatever was drawing us all forward, Zackie quickened her pace and became more animated, emitting a series of low whines and projecting a sense of urgency.
