Ghostly Attachments (Haunted Series)

by Alexie Aaron

  “Ted, get Mike headed up there. Tell him I’m right behind him,” Burt said, grabbing Big Bertha, the large camera, and racing across the lawn.

  “Mike, movement in the nursery. Burt on your heels, dude.”

  Beth and Ted saw Mike whirl around and head out of the kitchen. They watched as Burt burst through the backdoor and moved swiftly after him.

  Burt caught up with Mike on the stairs. “We picked up movement on the changing table,” Burt explained, running tape.

  “What kind of movement.”

  “One of the dolls.”

  “I hate dolls,” Mike said as he climbed faster. “Who buys dolls for boys?”

  “Come on, don’t be sexist,” Burt said more for the female audience’s benefit than his own. He was a traditional guy himself. He always gave trucks to his numerous nephews. The females received dresses. He knew that Mia would have a problem with this, but so far she hadn’t been involved in a family gift giving scenario.

  They stopped before the door to the nursery. Mike carefully opened the door and stepped aside so Burt could lead with the camera.

  The com clicked on, and Ted talked them through what they were seeing on the viewer. “Check out the changing table. It’s to your left.”

  Burt panned slowly to his left and the automatic focus blurred a moment before he could see the antique baby doll slowly move its head towards Burt and the camera. Mike approached the doll, causing Burt to have to move to the side and get a shot of the action from that angle.

  The doll now was turning its head again, this time to follow Burt’s progression through the room. Mike pulled out a magnetic field reader, and as he turned it on the device let off an ear-piercing tone. “What the hell are you looking at?” Mike asked the doll, following its gaze. Behind Burt the wallpaper pushed outward. “Burt behind you,” he warned.

  Burt, with practiced skill, pivoted while bringing the camera smoothly around with him. In the lens it looked as if a bubble of air was caught behind the striped paper. The stripes warped as the bubble grew in size.

  He could hear Mike move closer to him. Burt kept the camera focused on the bubble which seemed to pulse in and out like a heartbeat. He clicked the com on with his hand and whispered, “Ted, are you picking up any audio.”

  “Negative. Dudes, the doll is still moving its head.”

  “You be our eyes behind our heads,” Burt instructed.

  “Will do, roger.”

  Mike reached out a hand and stopped within inches of the bubble. “Is this for real?” He brought out a pencil from his pocket and touched the bubble with the eraser end. It gave slightly and retreated into the wall. “What the ef was that?” Mike questioned no one in particular.

  “Dudes, the doll’s head is moving to your right.”

  Burt moved the camera and Mike stepped back as another bubble formed and pulsed rapidly until it was the size of a basketball. It flattened out completely.

  “Someone’s playing a game with us,” Mike said in a condescending tone. “Come on out and play.”

  Ted’s voice came on the com again, “The doll is moving its head back and forth.”

  The bubble in front of them inflated quickly and burst outward covering Burt and Mike in drywall dust. They coughed on the white smoke. Mike started for the door and Burt over to the window. The room continued to fill with white chalky dust. Mike felt a shove but stayed on his feet. “Someone shoved me,” he called over to Burt.

  Burt dropped the camera off his shoulder as the dust made filming fruitless. He flipped the locks on the window before hefting it upwards. The smoke moved towards the open window. Burt coughed as he began to be covered in the silt of the drywall. Suddenly, he felt two powerful hands on his hips forcing him towards the open window. The waist-high sill prevented him from being toppled out of the second story window.

  “Mike, get out of here,” he shouted. “Whatever this is, it’s playing rough.” Burt struggled until he felt the pressure fall away. He picked up the camera and bounded out towards the nursery door. He fell over Mike who was crawling in the same direction on the floor. The crash of his body tumbling through the open door and crumbling against the opposite wall drowned out Ted’s voice telling them, “Dude, the doll just rolled its eyes and the bookshelf is shaking.”

  Mike lost his wind when Burt fell over him. He rolled over on his back and caught a well thrown tome of nursery rhymes to the crotch. “Mother effing son of a bitch!”

  “Dude, Beth says to remind you we are going for a PG rating.”

  ~

  Beverly looked at her niece and marveled at how far the imp had come in such a short time. A pang of conscience hit her when she looked back on how she had avoided any contact with the young woman in her formative years. Could she have helped her to mature her talent sooner, and if so, would that have been a good thing? She had problems of her own, so she left her brother’s child to the indifferent hands of her sister-in-law. Mia wasn’t totally without a family. Bernard and Ralph, friends of Bev’s academic brother, stepped in when Bev herself was unwilling to. This gay couple nurtured the girl whenever they could, making sure she didn’t perish from lack of attention. Ralph financed Mia’s emancipation from her parents and kept an eye on her from Mia’s imposed distance.

  Bev and Mia were back at the condo waiting for Gerald to arrive. He had left a cryptic message with the nurse for them to eat, rest and stay put. Mia approached her aunt. She looked like she had something on her mind. Bev hoped it wasn’t a matter of the heart. Bev hated emotional discussions. It wasn’t that Bev didn’t have a heart. It was more that she didn’t have the patience.

  “How exactly can you change your OOB persona?” Mia asked. “All I get is a cartoon version of me.”

  She thought a moment and replied, “I think your problem is your lack of experience with the outside world. Don’t roll your eyes. You asked for my help, so shut up and listen.”

  Mia pulled up a kitchen chair and sat down, giving her aunt her full attention.

  “You have to feel the character in which you want to morph into. I’ve read about and seen films about Marilyn, Amelia, and, oh yes, my favorite, Mae West. I’ve gleaned their personality and, in a sense, bring about their essence. But there is also the emotional element. You have to believe you are the person or being you create.”

  “Like Brian believes he is the knight.”

  “Excellent example. Brian has put a lot of research into his guise. He believes that he is a knight put on earth to come to the aid of damsels in distress. I bet that with enough power he could make that sword of his real.”

  “No.”

  Bev raised her hand. “It’s a theory of mine, but you know how spirits can push through and manipulate things in our world.”

  “Poltergeists?”

  “No, those are just silly buggers playing dangerous games. I’m talking about the chair movers and the conjurers. They can take something from their time and push it through the ether. Watches appearing, marbles on staircases, rocking chairs…”

  “Okay, I get it, but what does this have to do with Brian?”

  “I think that if all the conditions came together just right, that kid has the emotional fortitude to wield that sword and cut through the veil between the ether and the real world.”

  “Nah uh,” Mia scoffed. “If so then Murphy’s axe would…”

  “Let me finish. Murphy is a whole other ball of wax. I’m talking a flesh and blood bi-locator who has manifested a persona of a knight with a broadsword who isn’t afraid of dying.”

  “This is a theory.”

  “A sound thought out supposition.”

  Mia smiled at her aunt. “Okay, I can see where you’re going with this. Let’s put Brian aside for a moment. You’re telling me that if I believe that I’m a dragon…”

  “You’ll be a dragon. But do you really want to be a smelly old lizard with human remains stuck in your teeth?”

  Mia burst out laughing causing Tauni to loo
k up from her magazine. “So, no dragons. I want to be something smart and formidable.”

  “Be Hilary Clinton,” Bev suggested.

  Mia dismissed Hilary not because she wasn’t a tiger in a fight but Mia didn’t know exactly who she was and what she was capable of doing. “Joan of Arc.”

  Bev wrinkled up her face and said, “Victim.” She got up and patted Mia on the back. “Don’t worry. It will come to you in time.”

  ~

  Beth jumped up to aid her fallen comrades, but Ted grabbed her before she could run in. “I need your eyes on the viewer with me. They can handle a few poltergeists. The dudes survived that horror show in the hollows. Right now I can’t possible keep my eyes on all six camera placements.”

  She saw his reason and sat back down, disciplining herself to keep an eye on Grandma Hoffman’s rocker which had started to move.

  Burt moved forward on his hands and knees and located Mike on the floor. The swirling masses of drywall chalk made it impossible to see. He grabbed his friend’s shoulders under the arms and dragged him out into the hall. A book whizzed by his ear and imbedded itself into the wall behind him. Burt had just managed to close the door as numerous thuds of books hitting the closed door echoed through the house.

  “What the hell happened in there?” Mike said from his fetal testis- hugging position on the floor.

  Burt spat out a mouthful of chalk before speaking, “You had to invite them play.”

  They looked at each other’s dust-covered faces and laughed.

  “You look like Casper the friendly ghost,” Mike snorted. “I wonder if we caught any of that on film.”

  “It will take some cleaning up, if I can extract it from that ruined mess of a camera over there.”

  Mike angled his head to see what the Burt-wall sandwich had done with the machinery caught in between. “I think it’s time for a new camera.”

  “You think?” Burt sassed as he flexed his fingers looking for broken bones. “How’s the jewels?”

  Mike groaned but managed to sit up. “Won’t be seeing any activity for a while. Remind me to wear a cup next time. Can we afford full body armor?”

  “Dudes!” Ted’s exited voice came over their ear sets. “If you’re still alive, Beth says that Grandma’s rocking.”

  Burt felt around his belt for his radio. It was still attached. “Ted, we need a back-up camera. Old Bertha has gone to Sony heaven.”

  “Copy that. Beth will meet you in the kitchen with Little Susie.”

  “Tell her to bring an ice pack. Mike got his plums punched.”

  “Copy that!”

  Beth moved swiftly to the house and quietly opened the kitchen door. She held the camera in front of her, looking at the viewfinder as she walked. She screamed as the two full body apparitions came through the door from the hallway. With a shaking hand she managed to pan up and down to capture the creatures. One of them spoke to her.

  “Beth, it’s us. Burt and Mike.”

  It took a moment for Burt’s voice to register. She looked away from the viewfinder and gazed at the chalky men in front of her. Burt was completely covered, with the exception of his eyes and mouth. Mike’s blue-jeaned crotch was the only area clear of the dust. “What happened?”

  “I think we have poltergeists,” Mike said dryly.

  “That doesn’t make any sense. There are no adolescents in this house.” This blew Beth the researcher’s mind. Beth the geek then said, “Cool.” She then handed Mike the ice pack and watched as he jammed it down the front of his jeans. “Ouch.”

  Mike nodded and hobbled over to the kitchen sink and began running the water. He scrubbed most of the dust off, using a dishtowel to push the rest of the wet chalky substance away from his Hollywood face. He turned around and said, “Ready to roll.”

  Burt took the camera from Beth and began to film Mike’s explanation of what went on upstairs.

  Beth took this opportunity to sneak by them and into the hall. She quietly approached the entrance to the front room and stood there amazed. The platform rocker was moving on its own. She tiptoed up to the tripod and checked the battery readings. There was still charge. She would have to change the pack soon but didn’t want to disturb the continuity of the recording.

  She heard the men approach as Mike continued his dialog. She moved into the shadows until they passed. Ted’s voice hissed at her, “Bethy, come to Teddy Bear. I need your eyes.”

  Beth pulled herself away and walked back to the kitchen via the dining room. She didn’t see the blue-coated man who was loading a one-shot dueling pistol nor his servant who gazed at him with malevolence.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Mia stood by and handed Tauni the equipment as she asked for it. A feeding tube had to be inserted into Sabine. This wasn’t a good sign. The waif’s body was still holding in there, but without fuel there would be a steady decline. Gerald had called and was bringing reinforcements. He and Bev exchanged information, and it was decided with Mia’s cooperation that she, her aunt and Brian would meet up at the dock in an hour to begin the trek to rescue Sabine.

  Brian’s sister was on her way to the care facility and would call when she was in place. Gerald would coordinate the bi-location with her when the ladies were ready. Since there was no idea of how long this trip would take, the ladies’ bodies would have to be secured and nurtured. They had moved out the living room furniture and three hospital beds were brought in. Sabine’s body was settled in one. Bev and Mia looked at each other, exchanging mutual aversion to having to put their bodies in the sterile beds.

  Mia’s sensitive ears picked up a disturbance in the hall outside of the apartment. She smiled as she recognized the voice causing the ruckus. She opened the door and stood there waiting to be noticed.

  “What do you mean I’m being hysterical? I’m just looking out for our…” the elegantly dressed man paused his tirade seeing Mia. “There she is, Bernard. Come to Ralph, my precious, what have these fools convinced you to do?”

  Mia moved into her protector’s arms and felt the love that radiate out of his body, filling her eyes with tears.

  “You’re going to smother the girl,” a tux-wearing black gentleman’s nasal voice warned from the open door.

  Mia looked over at Bernard, the other half of her pseudo-godparents, and took in his costume. She pushed away and brushed an errant tear off of the lapel of Ralph’s expensive jacket. “What’s this? When do you have to dress to come and see me?”

  Ralph giggled and explained, “We were on our way for the opening of ‘Summer Opera in Chicago’ when Gerald called us. You, missy, owe your Uncle Benny and I tickets to the next performance, which will include you in an evening dress sitting between us.”

  Mia opened her mouth to protest, but seeing the gleam in the couple’s eyes, she closed her mouth and nodded in agreement.

  “You can bring that young man of yours, if you can keep him awake. I’ll never forgive him for falling asleep at the symphony.”

  “They were playing Brahms,” Mia pointed out. “He explained that his mother put the kids to sleep to Brahms’ music.”

  Ralph snorted. “And you believed him. Oh, Mia-my, you are such a trusting little girl. Spend some time with me, and I will tell you the evils of men.”

  “Seems to me that Sabine likes hospital décor,” Bernard mumbled as he stepped into the apartment. Mia watched as the Head of the Culture Department of the Chicago Field Museum inspected each of the beds, ending up at Sabine’s.

  Tauni looked up from her watchful position and challenged him with her eyes. He smiled and said, “I see all is well here.”

  Mia moved out of Ralph’s arms, taking his hand and walked over to introduce the couple to the nurse. “When you said I should have someone who had my best interest at heart watch over me, I knew who it would have to be.”

  “Oh, the dear girl is going to make me cry.” Ralph fanned his face with his hand.

  Mia looked at the nurturing man. He seemed to be getting
younger every time she saw him. She looked at his perfectly-styled, dyed brown hair and the smooth wrinkle-free face. Botox, she thought, or peels. Ralph wasn’t just fighting age, he was trying to erase it. The expertly applied make-up gave him a radiance that would turn heads, which was his intention, Mia assumed. She wouldn’t speak of the dangers of Botox with him in front of strangers. She made note to take him to task when she returned from this bi-location. Mia winced as she thought, “If I return.”

  Gerald walked in the door, followed by his driver. They carried between them two baskets of catering. He smiled at them as he passed on the way to the kitchen. “Where’s Beverly?” he asked Mia.

  “In the bedroom getting ready,” Mia replied.

  “Is this my cue to enter?” Bev’s voice preceded her down the hall. “Gerald, did you get the macaroni and cheese?” she questioned him as she walked into the kitchen. She was wearing a velour track suit that was two crème brûlées too small. It hugged her curves like a second skin.

  Gerald couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. The tangerine picked up the warm tones in her blonde hair, courtesy of the Shae Salon. He pushed down his ardor and handed her the foil-wrapped package. “Chef Andrew was happy to make this for you but insists you don’t call it mac & cheese. It hurts his pride.”

  “I suppose he calls it, 'macaronis et fromage?’” she scoffed, pulling back the cover and closed her eyes as the aroma of the Gruyere and Cantal tantalized her taste buds. “Heavenly.”

  Gerald laughed and looked at the elegantly attired men and Mia. “I guess after this cretin finishes taking on fuel we can begin.”

  Mia listened to Gerald’s plan being explained again for the benefit of her godparents with half an ear. Her mind was on Burt who she had been playing voice mail tag with for most of the day. It wasn’t that she felt she needed his approval for what she was about to do. Simply, she wanted to hear his voice again. He had stepped into her life, accepting everything about her. When her childhood crush Whitney’s wife died, she had actually thought the years of pining for that man would come into fruition. But he couldn’t accept her gifts, or perhaps the problems that came with them. And after the battle for saving his dead wife’s soul finished, he turned his back on Mia. This cut her to the core. True, she loved Burt, but the betrayal of the friendship and disintegration of the fantasy she had had with Whit still devastated Mia. She tucked it away down deep and hoped it wouldn’t fester there.