The Wantland Files

by Lara Bernhardt

  Sterling leaned back and crossed his arms, humming the theme song to Felix the Cat.

  She depressed the “Record” button and grasped her crystal, focusing all her energy on creating a connection with ethereal beings. “Hi. My name is Kimberly. I won’t hurt you. I’m not angry. I’d like to talk to you.”

  She paused and listened. No one expected to hear anything right away. Spiritual entities rarely responded on command. A poltergeist or a demon might, but she didn’t sense those. Thank goodness.

  “You might be aware of the man with me. His name is Sterling. He won’t hurt you, either. The negative energy you feel from him is only skepticism. He doesn’t believe you exist.”

  Sterling sat forward. “But I’d love to be proved wrong. So, please, come play with us.”

  “Play? That’s actually a good idea.”

  “What idea?”

  “Michael, can someone get a ball of yarn and some newspaper?”

  Elise answered her request. “Danielle crotchets. She has lots of yarn. I’ll see if I can find some paper.” Her researcher left to gather the items.

  She turned her attention back to the camera. “We’re putting the EVP session on hold to explore Sterling’s idea. That was actually quite clever. Thank you.”

  Her cohost furrowed his brow. “I’ll never disagree when someone says I’m clever, but what idea?”

  She faced the camera. “We’re attempting to engage a cat spirit. Verbal stimuli may not be the most effective tool. Let’s try approaching Felix as we would any cat.”

  Sterling straightened. “I didn’t suggest anything about trying to contact a cat spirit.” He shoved his face in front of the camera. “For the record, I did not say I thought this would help us contact a cat spirit. Whatever she’s about to do is her idea.”

  “Don’t be so humble. I never would have thought of it without you.” She reveled in his apoplectic expression. So maybe she shouldn’t enjoy goading him. Felt good to get back at him, though.

  Elise returned with a skein of yarn and some newspaper. “I didn’t find a ball of yarn, but here’s this.”

  “Perfect. That will work fine.” She ripped a rectangle of newspaper and squished it in the center to make a bow. Then she pulled the loose end of the yarn from the skein and tied it around the bow. She tossed it into the kitchen and dragged it slowly back to the kitchen table. “Let’s see if we can get him to play.”

  “I do not in any way believe this will establish a connection with a ghost cat. I don’t even believe there is a ghost cat. This might be the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen on your show.”

  “Aren’t you glad you’re here to see it? Relax and enjoy.”

  She continued to toss and drag her bow, the paper scratching along the tile floor the only sound in the home. “Here, kitty, kitty, kitty,” she called.

  “Really?” Sterling shook his head.

  “This was your idea.”

  “This ludicrous display of nonsense was not—”

  The skein of yarn fell from the table to the floor.

  She froze. She’d been poised to toss the paper again.

  Silence. Stan and TJ both moved in closer.

  She kept her eyes glued to the yarn on the floor. “Have you come to play, Felix? Do you want the yarn? Good kitty. You can have it.”

  “Come on,” Sterling said. “The yarn is still attached. This is so transparent I’m not even going to call it a trick. You pulled the yarn so the whole thing would fall.”

  “I didn’t pull the yarn at all. I was about to throw the paper again.”

  “Right. And while everyone watched the paper, you tugged the yarn. Sorry. I see right through this one.”

  “I wasn’t even exerting pressure on it.”

  “Not buying it.”

  The yarn moved an inch to the side.

  “There! See? Good kitty. Play with the yarn.”

  “This is complete BS. You’re manipulating that yarn.”

  Glaring at him, she held both arms out and dropped the yarn to the floor. “There you go, Felix. It’s all yours.”

  She watched the yarn intently in the ensuing quiet. “TJ, keep the FLIR focused on the area around the yarn.” He probably already was, but she wanted to make sure. The younger cameraman wasn’t as experienced as Stan.

  She lapsed into silence, listening for any indication of a presence—paper rustling, soft scraping, anything that might indicate something attempting to gain visibility. She heard nothing. The yarn didn’t move again, either.

  Sterling leaned forward. “As predicted, the yarn didn’t move after you let go of it.”

  She couldn’t see his features clearly in the dim light, but she didn’t need to. She could hear the gloating smirk. “You can go stand in the corner, Mr. Wakefield, if you have anything further to contribute.” She turned to the camera. “I think we spooked the spirit. Or perhaps he exhausted his energy. I’m going to resume the EVP session and encourage him to come back if he can.”

  She recorded silence for several minutes before she spoke. “EVP session, Williams house, immediately following noted movements of yarn. Good kitty, Felix. You can play with the yarn again if you want to. Is someone here with you, Felix? You can answer any way you like. You can talk directly to me. My recorder will hear you. You can make any noise you like. Or move the yarn again. Or move something else.”

  She left quiet gaps between each sentence. Spiritual sounds were easier to hear and analyze against a background of silence.

  The yarn remained still, and no further noises encouraged her. Spirits could never be forced. They responded as they chose or perhaps as they were able. She wished this one had cooperated tonight, though. Now Sterling would remain convinced he was right and she was nothing but a fraud. Then again, would he believe anything? He saw the spirit manipulate the yarn and refused to accept it was anything but sleight of hand. He probably wouldn’t believe in ghosts if one appeared right next to him and bit him on the arm.

  She checked the time. “I think we have as much as we’re going to get here. I hope we hear something when we review the recording. Perhaps someone will communicate with us that way. I think we’re ready to move to another room. I do want to leave the yarn out with a camera on it and see if Felix may just be a little shy. Maybe he’ll come play when it’s quiet.”

  By the time her shows aired, they were edited and streamlined to include only the most exciting moments from her investigations. Most people had no idea how many boring hours she and her crew sat around waiting while nothing happened.

  She stepped out back and shivered. Late-March nights in New Mexico were cold. Should’ve grabbed a coat or something. No sooner did the thought cross her mind than Rosie appeared and helped her into her jacket. And straightened her hair before scurrying back into the house.

  “You are so spoiled.” Sterling joined her, blowing on his hands.

  “I have an excellent team.”

  “What exactly do we do out here?”

  “More of the same. Shooting this show isn’t as glamorous as you seem to think. Nothing happens on cue because it isn’t scripted. It’s real. I don’t know what it will take to convince you of that.”

  “What will convince me is seeing something I can’t explain.”

  “Remember, even doubting Thomas declined the offer to dip his fingers into Christ’s wounds.”

  “You can’t honestly be likening yourself to—”

  “Kimberly!” Michael beckoned from the back door. “Come inside. TJ got something on the thermal camera in the toddler’s bedroom.”

  “The toddler’s bedroom? Danielle didn’t report any disturbances in there.” She grabbed Sterling’s arm and pulled him along. “Change of plans.”

  12

  Kimberly rewound the FLIR footage and hit “Play” for the sixth time.

  TJ hovered at her shoulder, biting his thumbnail and shuffling from foot to foot. “What do you think?”

  “I think I’m really glad
you happened to be walking by and caught this.” She turned a smile on her cameraman.

  He stared at his feet, a shy grin on his face. “I thought I’d do a quick sweep while everyone moved out back and the house was quiet.”

  “Smart. You have good instincts.”

  Stan recorded the exchange, then moved in tighter to capture the FLIR footage review.

  “As you can see, a shadow appears in the middle of the room. The shape does indicate a four-legged animal about the size of a house cat. This could be a tail. A moment later, the image disappears and reappears near the bed.”

  “See what it does there?” TJ pointed to the screen. “It rises on the toddler bed.”

  “What is it doing?” She rewound the last few seconds. The red haze appeared to elongate as though stretching to peer over the bed. “I think you’re right. The image seems to be rising on the side of the bed. Is it looking in the bed? This is great footage, TJ. Keep recording, please.”

  She stepped into the room, closed her eyes, and reached out, hoping the entity TJ caught on the FLIR remained nearby. “Are you trying to tell us something? Are you warning us? Is someone else in the house with us right now?”

  “Someone needs to be the voice of reason here,” Sterling said. “You realize you’re turning nothing into something, right? I see nothing. I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

  She opened her eyes, weary of interruptions. “And because you’re unable to read and interpret data properly, you just dismiss it?”

  “Dude, it’s right there.” TJ pointed at the red blur on the screen.

  “That could be anything. Or nothing. Point the FLIR at the bed right now and see if any color discrepancies produce the same results.”

  TJ looked to her.

  “Go ahead. Pan the room.”

  TJ aimed the camera. Afraid to look, afraid Sterling would once again feel vindicated, she watched the screen. No anomalies appeared.

  “You were saying, Mr. Wakefield?”

  “There.” Sterling pointed to the screen. “That’s what I was saying. A shadow most likely caused by some of the toys in here.”

  “That doesn’t look anything like what TJ caught earlier.”

  “Different distortion, same idea. Logical idea. Not fantasy.”

  “How can you not see that your interpretation is only your opinion?” Kimberly asked.

  “You honestly think the best, most logical explanation is that your cameraman recorded a ghost cat? Think about that. Ghost. Cat.”

  “I think there is far more to this world than you want to believe. And since you don’t want to believe it, you refuse to see what’s right in front of you.”

  “No, I just refuse to be duped.”

  Sterling’s red chakra flared, indicating he felt the need to protect himself. At the same time, she sensed a wave of remorse and shame. He’d been duped before. Hurt. He covered it well, but someone had hurt him deeply.

  She stepped back, shaken by the depth of pain. She rested a hand on his arm, and spoke as gently as she could. “We aren’t here to dupe anyone. We only want to help.”

  He opened his mouth to speak, closed it, and blinked a few times. His furrowed brow smoothed.

  “Right. Okay. Just . . . go ahead.” He waved a hand at her, then walked away.

  “I really thought I got something,” TJ said. “That guy is kinda rude. And after I helped him, too. What a jerk.”

  She couldn’t bear the crestfallen look on the young man’s face. “You did catch something. Don’t let him bring you down. Wait until we review footage tomorrow. I’ll bet the team goes crazy over this. Keep up the good work.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  She turned to Michael. “You were surprisingly quiet during that.”

  He held up his hands in surrender. “Hey, RandMeier expects some drama from this mash-up. A little bang for his buck.”

  “I don’t think you need to worry about that. Sterling and I don’t seem to be able to do anything but drama. He sets me off so easily.”

  “You handled him well just now. I’m proud of you. The audience will get to see your tender side. Surprised Sterling brought that out.”

  “You and me both. Okay, Great and Powerful Director. What next? Backyard again?”

  Michael swiveled his head toward the master bedroom and mulled the options. “Sure. Backyard for a while. We can finish in the master bedroom.”

  Thirty minutes in the backyard yielded nothing but numb fingers and toes. Rosie pressed a cup of hot tea into her hands the moment she stepped back inside. Michael sat her at the dining table. “Stay here until you’ve warmed up a bit.”

  The crew shifted to the master bedroom for what she hoped would produce the best footage of the night.

  Sterling slid into the chair beside her. “Good grief. You’re shivering.” He lifted her hand from the table and pressed it between his own.

  “It’s cold outside.” She couldn’t bring herself to pull her hand away. His warmth felt so good.

  “Not that cold. Another peril of weighing next to nothing. You can’t regulate your body temperature.”

  “How can you be so warm already?” She offered her other hand and luxuriated in the heat that spread through her.

  “What can I say? Hot-blooded male.”

  The accompanying spark in his eyes produced a flush of warmth she wasn’t as comfortable with. She withdrew her hands. “Much better. Thank you.”

  Michael leaned around the corner from the hallway. “Ready, Kimmy? Sterling? We’re all set up.” He disappeared again.

  “Seriously, why don’t you tell him how much you dislike that? I see it on your face every time he says it.”

  “And then try to explain why I said nothing all these years? No, thanks.”

  “You owe him the truth.”

  “I can’t. He’d be upset. You saw.”

  “Then let me tell him for you.”

  “No. That’s even worse. Please drop it.”

  “Why did he start calling you Kimmy? You so clearly detest it. What prompted the nickname in the first place?”

  “It’s a long story. Something I prefer to forget. Which I think he’s done. If he remembered where the nickname came from, he’d never say it again the rest of his life.” She swallowed the last of her tea and stood.

  Sterling grabbed her arm. “You can’t leave me hanging like that.”

  “Sorry. We have a show to shoot.”

  “You tease.”

  She flipped off the kitchen light, plunging the room into darkness.

  He bumped into her in the hallway and murmured an apology. But remained close behind her.

  As she entered Danielle and Stephen’s bedroom, eyes on the crib, her emotions churned. She felt too scattered to hone her own energies, much less captivate and direct another. She gripped her crystal and breathed deeply, determined to calm her heartbeat. She pushed Sterling from her thoughts. This was exactly why she preferred to helm the show alone. And why she held most people at a distance. Too many complications directly affected her abilities, her show—her livelihood.

  She imagined pushing all the stress out of her body through her fingers and toes. When she felt lighter and freer, she imagined a golden light in the center of her chest and allowed it to grow and expand until it filled her and radiated into the spirit world around her. She sent out the beacon and waited, hoping something would accept her invitation.

  She heard murmurs in the silence. Her crew, well trained, spoke only when necessary and only in soft whispers.

  Then she heard another sound. Not her crew. It drifted from elsewhere in the house. She turned from the crib and followed the sounds. Down the hall. A wordless sound, a calling. Distress. Concern. Fear. Almost frantic. From the toddler’s room.

  She stood in the doorway. Two shadowy figures struggled to resolve into recognizable images.

  She clenched her crystal and focused with all her might. Come on. What are you trying to tell me? Finally,
a clear image burst through the haze—a hissing cat, claws unsheathed, sitting on the toddler bed.

  What is it? What do you want?

  She stepped closer and felt another presence. The other shadow. It hovered near the cat, dark and dreadful. She attempted to reach out to the hazy entity. For a moment, she connected partially. Cold. Empty. She shivered.

  The entity pushed her away. It didn’t want her here. Was this cold, empty thing behind the cat apparitions? She moved closer. The darkness didn’t leave, yet she felt it recede from her. The cat arched and hissed.

  What are you? Why are you here?

  “Do you guys hear that?” Sterling’s voice jolted her from the vision. The shadowy figure dissipated.

  Drained, she nearly collapsed, sweat dripping from her forehead. She gasped to fill her lungs before turning on Sterling.

  “What is wrong with you? I made a connection. I was making progress. You blew it.”

  “Listen.”

  A cat meowed.

  She blinked. Nothing remained of the cat or the dark entity from her vision. “You can hear that?”

  “Of course.”

  He turned to follow the sound. TJ kept a camera on him.

  Kimberly spoke into Stan’s camera. “If Sterling and the crew hear that meowing, then the cause isn’t supernatural. He’s only going to find a cat.”

  She breathed deeply, attempting to feel any residual energy from the entities she’d connected with. Nothing. They were both completely gone. She hurried after Sterling and discovered the back door open.

  Sterling crouched in the backyard, coaxing a kitten.

  Shaking her head, she turned to Michael. “This is why I work alone. I made a connection with Felix. And there was something else. Another entity of some sort. I was determining exactly what we’re dealing with here. And then Idiot Wakefield interrupted. And we both know exactly what he’s going to say next.”

  Michael pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes closed. “I know.”

  “He’s a menace. I want him gone.”

  “I can’t do that. This is exactly the sort of thing RandMeier hoped he would stir up.”