“Walk with me, sir,” Silas said to the spirit.
“Do you need me to go with you?” I asked.
Silas shook his head and led the ghost off in the direction of the church. Amos shuffled around and looked at me before saying, “So, if Silas is the brains and you’re the brute strength, what about me?”
“I don’t know. How about comic relief?”
Amos laughed before responding, “That works. But think about this, who is standing out in the rain getting soaked? It just passes right through me. Kinda itches though.”
Sadly, he had a point.
Drying off in the car, I watched Silas and the ghost sit on a bench at the church entrance. After awhile, I drifted off, until the sound of the door opening woke me up. Silas, following Sweet’s lead, settled onto the passenger seat. He shook the umbrella off before closing it and then the door.
“Are we good? Where’s Jeffries?” I said looking out into the darkness.
“He’s gone. Faded away before my eyes and moved on.”
I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and asked, “How’d you do that, Silas?”
“His greatest fear was being lost and forgotten. I told him about the struggle of our people – how far we’ve come and how far there is left to go. I told him the things he didn’t know, like the brave folks who marched with Doctor King and how no one who sacrificed would ever be forgotten. When it comes down to it, Michael, people facing their own mortality need to know they mattered in life. I even went so far as to mention that young Senator from Illinois who is running for President.”
“You don’t seriously think that guy can beat Hillary?”
“I won’t rule out any possibilities. Considering the influence of the spirit world on our own, I believe we shouldn’t rule anything out. Now, let’s go back to the hotel.”
“Did you happen to see that rope still around?”
He gave me a disapproving glare and I responded, “What? It would be useful for tying up a spirit. Handcuffs won’t work.”
“Perhaps Michael, but things like that are symbols and some are best…”
“Forgotten,” I offered.
“No, never forgotten. Consciously discarded because we have chosen to become better.”
As I told the recently departed Mr. Jeffries, Silas was the brains of the operation – for a reason. I turned over the Caddy’s engine and started down the road.
We stayed at a mom and pop hotel just off of Interstate 65. I didn’t splurge on one of the chain hotels, mostly because I was a cheapskate. Growing up as poor white trash left its mark. Besides, after one complete and one half-finished tour in Iraq, I had low standards. It also helped that Brother Silas couldn’t see, but he sniffed the air a few times and shrugged. We were an odd couple, a tall, thin, aging black man and a scruffy short twenty-four year old white guy. We didn’t look like we had a thing in common, but appearances were deceiving.
Amos Sweet slept in the car, snoring heavily. Many ghosts maintain quirks from when they lived. Best I could tell, most spirits still imitated the actions of the living like sleeping and breathing. I found it somewhat reassuring because they’re clinging to their humanity. The ones that don’t, they’ve given up on being human. Those were the really dangerous ghosts.
“Remind me to call Pastor Edmunds in the morning and tell him our business at his church is finished.”
Toting the luggage, I grunted and said, “As long as he doesn’t mind the fact the graveyard looks like someone played a game of tackle football in the mud.”
He chuckled and I flipped my suitcase on a double bed and fished around for some clean clothes, while lamenting that we’d need to do laundry in a couple of days. Silas had found one very uncomfortable looking chair and sat down. The air conditioning unit struggled and made lots of noise, but did little else.
“Do all Pastors believe in ghosts?” I asked. I’d done a few of these errands for Pastor Duncan in the past and two on this trip so far. Thankfully, the first one was a false alarm. This one made up for it.
“I doubt it, Mike. Look at it this way, when a family encounters something they can’t explain, who do they go to for an explanation? Their spiritual leaders.”
“Makes sense I guess.” I muttered and glanced at the wobbling ceiling fan.
“Mike, just like those who don’t share our special gifts, preachers of all faiths encounter things beyond their experiences and then word reaches certain people, who get the word to us.”
“Let me know when we get a hotline or something. I’m going to grab a shower. Do you need anything before I do that?” I asked politely, hoping he wouldn’t.
“I’d like a pop from the vending machine, if you wouldn’t mind.”
“Ever notice how some people say pop and others soda? I ran into that all during my stint in the Army.”
Silas smiled and opened a Braille Bible. “We can be united in our differences.”
“Good point. Different strokes for different folks, I guess. No problem. I’ll be right back.”
Opening the door, I walked along the concrete path under the leaking metal awning toward the overpriced beverages. I didn’t mind the drinks we had in the cooler, even though we hadn’t picked up any ice in the past two days, but Silas liked a nice cold beverage on a sweltering night like this.
Who was I to refuse a request from a man who went willingly, and repeatedly, into Viet Cong tunnels armed with two puny pistols? At least in Iraq, I had good equipment and backup. Silas had old-school guts if you asked me.
Brother Silas possessed a weakness for grape soda and tonight, he was in luck. For the ridiculous price of one dollar and twenty-five cents, he could get a cold twelve-ounce can. I shook my head, knowing a two-liter bottle cost a buck at the grocery store.
After taking my dollar and my quarter, the blasted machine shut down as the lights flickered and died.
“Great!” I said thinking the ongoing lightning must have knocked out the power, but then I saw the motel sign on the road was still lit. “Damned piece of shit machine!”
“I’m afraid the fault is mine, Mr. Ross. Electrical devices often do that in my presence. The irony is I find them utterly fascinating.”
The pleasant, female voice sent a shiver up the old spine. Her accent and pronunciation sounded odd and out of place for modern day Alabama. That, and the fact she knew my name set off a few alarm bells.
Turning around, I regarded the ghost behind the words. She was short woman, unnaturally pale with dark eyes and very black hair, pinned up in the back. Her pretty face I’d seen a number of times when I was getting acquainted with my family tree. Though I knew she died at twenty-four, by her looks I wouldn’t have guessed she was more than eighteen.
Edgar’s child bride, Virginia Poe smiled back at me.
“Hello, Mrs. Poe. What can I do for you this evening?” I asked.
My words might have been polite, but I took nothing for granted. Her bright aura meant she was powerful. William Henry Leonard Poe, Edgar’s nearly-departed brother, stated she had an unusual gift of foresight. I believed him even though when he was telling me this, William was trying to possess and eventually kill me.
Darren Porter, the deceased paranormal investigator and distant family member, whose donated cornea was in my right eye, had a visit from her after his death. Darren tried to possess me as well. I just hadn’t realized it at the time. Blood might run thicker than water, but if my adventures had taught me one thing it was to be wary around family members. The ones that lingered were usually up to no good.
She clucked her tongue and acted bemused while saying, “Mrs. Poe makes me sound like an old lady. Please call me Virginia. By the way, well done with that restless spirit this evening.”
“You were there?”
“I watched from afar, Michael.”
“It was more Silas in the end. I didn’t do anything special with the guy.” Mentally, I kicked myself for not sensing her, but I’m not exactly Spider-man or anything.
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“You underestimate yourself. You had the wherewithal to destroy the spirit, but opted to defer to the Preacher. Having power is one thing. Possessing the fortitude to not use it is another. Therein lies your success.”
She reminded me of a seasoned spokesperson doing some “spin control.” I considered offering her the job while saying, “Please call me Mike, if we’re being informal. Michael makes me feel like I’m in trouble. That assumes that I’m not in trouble, which I guess depends on what you are about to say.”
Virginia smiled and said, “Eddy once said that a Ferryman is never truly out of trouble. Obviously, when I was alive, I never found any facts to refute that claim.”
She gestured and led me to a bench, I offered her the dry side, which wasn’t below one of the leaks, but Virginia took the other one and I watched the droplets pass through her body and splatter on the wood slats.
“Speaking of my power, did Edgar ever learn how to control it without hurting himself?”
“No, he never mastered that ability. He was most successful when he forced the energy out through his hands rather than releasing it from his chest. I’m not sure how one practices without being in mortal danger.”
“I guess I’m back to the original question. What can I do for you, Virginia?”
“I wanted to meet you, Mike. After Eddy died, the gift did not manifest itself in the line until just recently. Frankly, that doesn’t bode well and it signifies a time of great unrest and strife is on the horizon.”
I sighed and said, “Tell me something I don’t know. What happened between you and Darren Porter?”
“I came along too late to help him. The passing of a Ferryman, especially one who has realized his power, is always a traumatic event. Darren was not prepared for it mentally and he was quite insane when I arrived. It was much the same as when William died, but my cousin was able to fool us and we were blind to his awful transformation until he turned on us.”
“Yes, let’s talk about William,” I said calmly.
“You want to know if he’s still in this existence or not, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“I can’t tell you.” Virginia smoothed the gossamer ruffles of her dress.
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Both I’m afraid. After his death, William discovered the ability to avoid my senses. That said, even if I could, I would not.”
One of my flaws, of which there were many, was impatience. I never liked someone helping-but-not-really-helping me. “Why not? I don’t like looking over my shoulder and though I’d like to trust you, you can bet your ass I don’t.”
“You’re on the path you need to be, right here and right now, Mike. If I did tell you William was still in this realm, what would you do?”
“You’re the savant, clairvoyant, or whatever. You already know exactly what I would do.”
“Yes, hunt him down. That would take you away from your current path. Similarly, if I told you he was gone, I’d be lying, because I truly do not know one way or another. If you thought he was, you might let your guard down at a critical juncture.”
Needless to say, my head was already hurting. I was more of a “what is” versus a “what if” kind of guy. I replied, “So, if we’re not talking about William, what are we here to discuss? Edgar? Other delightful members of the family?”
“Eddy is long gone, I’m afraid. He fought his war to the best of his ability and well deserves his eternal rest. There are others in the family still around, but you don’t have to concern yourself with them at this time. I came to warn you, Michael; my kin suffered terribly during the Great Cleansing which covered the area from the Carolinas up to New York City. William is likely the oldest spirit you have encountered thus far. Further west, you’ll find less organization in the spirit world, but many of them are far older and, as you can guess, much more dangerous. Expect them to be powerful, ancient, and utterly ruthless if you involve yourself in their affairs.”
Her switch back to “Michael” wasn’t lost on me. “Well, aren’t you a ray of sunshine? Anyone in particular that I should be on the lookout for? Let me guess … you’re not going to tell me, are you?”
“I think you are beginning to understand the situation, Michael Ross. Too much knowledge can be just as dangerous as too little. Your journey must be your own. I will do what I can, when I can, but my time for action has long since passed. Your time is now.”
Her motivational skills were somewhat lacking. She should hang out with Strong Vincent because he delivered the goods and made men want to rush into live fire.
She stood and I sensed my impromptu audience with the “All-Seeing-but-not-All-Telling” Mrs. Poe had concluded.
“Any other nuggets of wisdom, before you leave, Virginia?”
“Gather allies, be practical, look before you leap, and learn from your mistakes.”
“In other words, don’t be Mike Ross.”
Virginia laughed and began to fade away as her voice trailed off, “I think I would prefer to say, learn to be a better Mike Ross.”
Obviously, she didn’t know me as well as she thought.
Episode 15: Saving Jesús in Twenty Minutes or Less
“Hey Mike, look over there!” Amos Sweet pointed to the other side of the highway. For a moment, it didn’t seem like anything special, another motorist with car trouble. The driver was a reasonably attractive bottle blonde. Given the generous nature of men who drive along roads, when it came to a pretty woman in distress, someone would likely stop to give her a hand soon enough. Not that it would help. I wasn’t a car mechanic, but I could diagnose her problem, even from a couple of hundred yards away.
In my professional Ferryman opinion, the dead guy standing in the car’s engine block had everything to do with it. Powerful ghosts can wreak havoc with electrical systems without trying, frightened or angry ones more so. A truck belonging to a buddy had problems turning over for weeks after an encounter with Colonel Strong Vincent.
“Wanna see what’s going on?” Amos asked, a bit too eagerly.
“It’s too early in the morning for this crap,” I grunted and shook my head. After my less than helpful, I’m-not-going-to-give-you-any-straight-answers meeting with Virginia Poe yesterday, I hadn’t slept well. Yeah, big surprise, I know. We’d hit the road real early and were on Interstate 10 in the sweltering heat of a Mississippi summer morning. Things were only going to get worse as the day progressed.
Naturally, Silas had fallen asleep in the back seat. Call me jealous.
“Alright, but if this takes longer than twenty minutes, I’m holding you responsible.”
I drove on for another mile before finding one of those “authorized vehicles only” crossovers and duly authorized myself – official Ferryman business and all that jazz. If I had some bubblegum lights on the top of my car and a siren, it’d complete the look. Wait, Hollywood already did some movies like that. Pulling up behind the woman’s Toyota, I touched Parker’s shoulder.
“Something wrong, Mike?”
“There’s a woman with car problems on the side of the road, and it’s a ghost that’s causing them. I’ll be back in a minute.”
He nodded and rolled back over as I got out of the Cadillac. Amos left the car through the passenger side window.
Walking toward the Toyota, I stared right at the ghost. The translucence made it hard to tell for certain, but I pegged him for a Latino.
The ghost took one look at Amos and bolted. Sometimes I considered running from him too, but Sweet was decent enough for a spirit. My pal took off in pursuit, leaving me to play the part of the guy who “touches a wire” and makes the car start.
“Hello? Do you need some help?” I said while approaching. The woman looked around from behind the hood at me.
“The damn car won’t start and I forgot my cell phone.”
After a glance under the hood, I found an easy way out. “There’s some build up on the battery terminals,” I said wiggling the wires. I felt
a mild buzz as the energy left behind by the ghost drained into my arm. “Why don’t you try it now?”
Seeing the crease on her brow told me she was skeptical, but the woman did it anyway. The Camry protested on the first two attempts, but then sputtered to life on the third time.
I put the hood down and gave her two thumbs up. She flashed me a thin smile and pulled away rather quickly. Having met my Boy Scout quota of one good deed for the day, I went back to the Caddy and waited for Amos to return.
The Skinwalker Conspiracies - 02 Page 2
