The Skinwalker Conspiracies - 02

by Jim Bernheimer

  “I’ve never been able to pull another one from the same object after I’ve done it before. It’s not like them copier things. You just can’t make a bunch of Xeroxes.”

  Her terminology was a bit dated, but considering she hadn’t really had much in the way of conversation for the last couple of decades, I couldn’t blame her.

  Placing one of the washcloths on the table, I felt the cotton and pinched it between my index finger and thumb.

  Amazingly enough, it felt like a hotel washcloth!

  “I don’t think it’s working,” I said. The only thing that was sustaining me was that Virginia wanted me here to learn something. Despite my current feelings about the widow Poe, I could really use something like this.

  Tabitha frowned and my gaze was drawn to the way she pursed her lips together. I hated that damn ring! My “stupid boy” routine was really just a hangover from Paul Lawrence’s feelings for her.

  “Alright then, let’s try this.” Grabbing my hand, she wrapped my palm around the back of her wrist. “Maybe you can feel what I’m doing when it happens. Put your fingers on top of mine.”

  I did as instructed and had that stupid scene from the Patrick Swayze movie with him and that woman at the pottery kiln flash through my mind. She reached inside the washcloth and pulled a duplicate from it as slowly as she possibly could. With what little concentration I could spare, I took my other hand and put it right on the edge of the “real” washcloth to see if I could sense anything else. It didn’t work either.

  There were a few other attempts, like trying to feel the inside of one of her phantom constructs, but they were just as real to me. Disheartened, we took a break after two hours. I was hungry and frustrated. Ask people that have known me for a long time to pick some words to describe Mike Ross. I can personally guarantee that “patient” wouldn’t show up on the list.

  Fortunately, Tabitha loved to talk. Paul’s memories confirmed this, but her long isolation, broken only by the rare encounters with another spirit, had only intensified her loneliness. I grew less interested in what she was trying to show me and more interested in her conversation.

  While Silas and I stepped out for food, Tabitha lounged and watched her soap opera and told us to hurry back. After grabbing a bite, Silas said he wanted to sit out and listen to the surf.

  “Are you sure that you don’t want to come back upstairs?”

  “You sound like you want me there, Mike. What’s wrong?”

  The two of us were long past any point where I needed to lie to him, or make up something equally stupid. Still, the words weren’t really coming out, but my pause was more than enough for the savvy preacher to put his finger on it. “You’ve got something for her, don’t you?”

  “No, well Paul did and I felt everything he did while I was wearing the ring. It’s complicated,” I answered and slapped my head to emphasize my irritation.

  “Maybe that’ll help you when it comes time for her to move on,” he replied while resting his weathered hand on my shoulder. “This is something you and the lady have to figure out on your own. Even a blind man can see when he’s in the way. You’re probably not gonna learn a thing from her unless you can relax around her.”

  Previous encounters, especially with the lovely and often nude Eva Kuntz in Pennsylvania, led me to create a rule – no dating ghosts, ever. Odds were that it would lead to no good.

  Helping Silas over to a bench, he wished me good luck. As I walked back to try and sort this thing out with Tabby, the cruel irony struck me. Many times I’ll gripe about how my powers get in the way of the everyday problems most people face. Apparently, the same fickle person that gave me the Ferryman job in the first place had heard my bitchin’ and moanin’ and discovered a new method of torturing me.

  What I wanted to know was who I pissed off in another life.

  “Oh good you’re back. I was getting bored!” Tabby exclaimed and sat up on the bed. “Ready to try again?”

  “Don’t you want to finish watching your program?”

  “Nah, they just keep rehashing the same old plots they were using twenty years ago. You’d think after a while they’d realize that every time somebody has a baby, someone else is going to steal it. Plus, hardly anyone ever dies and stays dead. You can guess how much that bothers me.”

  I laughed. It was easier than trying not to and the smile on her face was disarming.

  “Alright,” I said returning my focus to the task. “What are we going to try next?”

  She gestured at one of the pillows and reached through it. “Let’s try something that has layers already. You’ve got the pillow case, the fabric of the pillow, and then the stuffing inside the pillow. Maybe that’ll do the trick?”

  Somehow, I was uncomfortable getting on the bed with her. I grabbed one from Silas’ bed and set it on the dresser. “Okay, let’s try it over here.”

  She shrugged, like it didn’t matter and came over to the mirror with the crack running through it. “I did that, sorry,” she commented while running her finger over it.

  “Yeah, we called and complained to the front desk about being put in a room with a broken mirror. They asked why it took so long for us to tell them and Silas told them that he was blind and I’m a little slow when it comes to noticing things. Bottom line is that they aren’t going to try and add it to the bill.”

  “That’s good,” she said. “Now, stand behind me and put your hands on the pillow. I’m going to see if I can reach through you and pull out the pillow.”

  She rested her palms on the back of my wrists and pressed down. That’s all that seemed to be happening. Frowning, she picked up my left hand and examined it closely.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Thinking,” she replied. “Let’s try this.”

  She pinched the tip of my index finger and pulled. At first there was just the pressure, but I saw the area glow brighter, and it was like Tabby was using a pair of pliers to rip my fingernail off. It definitely wasn’t the usual stinging sensation. Like an electrical shock, it coursed through my whole body.

  “Ow! Shit! Ow!” I eloquently responded yanking my hand back from her grasp.

  “Are you okay? Let me see,” Tabby said and reached for my hand. She appeared very concerned.

  Feeling stupid, I held up my finger for inspection and both of us were surprised by what we saw. My finger was intact, but at the end of the fleshy tip was an extra quarter inch of a ghostly finger – almost as if I hadn’t clipped my fingernail in six months.

  Tabby touched my “extension” and I felt her do it. “Well, look at that,” she said. “How’s it feel?”

  “Okay, I guess,” I answered. “It’s weird though, like my finger is asleep.”

  We stared at it for another twenty or thirty seconds and then the tip disappeared back into my finger. I was actually somewhat relieved.

  “Let me try the thumb this time,” Tabby said.

  “It kind of hurt,” I replied.

  “Don’t be a baby,” she answered.

  She yanked again, harder. This time there was an extra inch to my thumb. Tabitha didn’t stop there. She went back to the original finger and pulled again.

  “Alright, now touch the two together.” Between the tingling sensations, I felt the two digits connect for a second and then immediately retreated back into my fingers.

  My companion bounced in delight. “I think we’re close. We’ll do this again and, real quick like; you reach down onto the pillow and try to pull the copy of it out. Okay?”

  By that time, I should’ve been used to suffering pain. If I ever got a chance to write The Idiot’s Guide to Being a Ferryman, I’d need to dedicate a few chapters to the subject of pain. Lacking a good idea of my own, I nodded.

  A few seconds and a couple of electric shocks later, I had my own pair of spectral tweezers on the ends of my fingers. I jabbed my hand down onto the pillow and the two tips went in. Pinching, I managed to feel something for a second. As I pulled back, t
he real pillow lifted slightly as the duplicate came out. The image fell back in when the two tips went back to where they were supposed to be.

  “So close. I thought you had it that time.”

  It wasn’t shocking that it took three more attempts to get a phantom copy of the pillow. Less than five minutes later, I stood there holding it in my left hand. It barely registered on my mind, because I’d become distracted by something else.

  Sometimes the world slows down. First there was the cry of excitement from Tabby when I did it. Then she threw her arms around me in congratulations. That was certainly a nice gesture, but it was when our lips touched for the first time, that’s when the pillow really became irrelevant.

  Episode 21: Crossing Certain Lines

  It’d be nice to say that I instantly realized that kissing the ghost of Tabitha Lawrence was a dreadful mistake and I immediately stepped away like a gentleman and apologized for my behavior. In that perfect world, we’d both laugh and say it was just something that shouldn’t have happened and we should get back to me learning how to pull images from real items.

  Of course, it would all be one big lie.

  No instead of that pleasant scenario, I kept kissing her despite the raw feeling it left on my lips. Hell, I even stuck my tongue in her mouth. Fortunately, I kept my eyes closed and no one else was in the room. Lord only knows how stupid it would have looked to someone who can’t see ghosts.

  It was Tabby who backed away first, only after one of my hands had roamed a little too far south on her backside. “I’m sorry. This isn’t right. I shouldn’t be taking advantage of you like this.”

  “Funny,” I answered. “Considering all the times someone actually has taken advantage of me, this doesn’t seem so bad.” It was actually one of my more witty comebacks. Maybe wearing Paul Lawrence’s wedding band was helping in that department.

  Tabby shook her head and stepped a few paces away from me. “No,” she replied. “I’ve just been lonely for so long. Before yesterday, I can’t remember when the last time I spoke to anyone else. I’d almost forgotten what my voice sounded like.” She thrust her hands downward in disgust or frustration. “Now look at me! Less than a day since I found out Paul’s never coming back and I’m already dishonoring his memory.”

  Of course that left me feeling like I was taking advantage of the lonely, older woman. Technically, she was still in her twenties, but she’d seen JFK when he was alive … so there was still some “ick” factor there.

  “It takes two to tango, Tabitha,” I said. “My last girlfriend dumped me the moment things started getting dangerous. I just saw another ex a few days ago and she’s doing great without me. I’m beginning to doubt I’ll ever have a normal relationship ever again.”

  “Why’s that?” I’d managed to interrupt her guilt.

  “Based on what I know about the people who’ve been Ferryman before me, the last one in a successful relationship married his thirteen year old cousin.”

  She made and “ew” face before smiling and saying, “Don’t sell yourself short, Mike. You’re a handsome young man, but this isn’t going to work. I’m smart enough to know that you’re my last link back to Paul.”

  “His memories made you out to be the impulsive one.”

  “I was alive back then, sweetheart. I’ve had a lot of time to think about things since then. Let’s just be friends.”

  Exactly how bad is it when even the ghosts of women are shooting me down? “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

  Turning away, I looked at anything but her eyes. I settled on the phantom pillow that was resting on my shoe. I leaned down to retrieve it and it felt solid enough to me. Looking at my left hand, I saw that both the thumb and the index finger looked like I had a tiny bit of white nail polish on the edges of the nail. Using my right hand, I grabbed the left thumbnail and tugged on it gently.

  The sensation wasn’t the “finger in the vice” like when Tabby had just done it. It was more like pulling off a particularly large scab. With a little more effort, my thumb was almost a full knuckle longer. I seriously started to wonder what would happen if I just kept pulling, but suddenly, I was overwhelmed with dizziness.

  Eloquent as ever, I managed to say, “Maybe we should take another break,” before doing a header onto the dresser.

  There was a cold compress on my noggin when I woke up. Brother Silas was sitting in a chair reading the phantom Bible Tabby had made for him. The female ghost was nowhere in sight.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Got a fierce headache.” I winced and squeezed my eyes together several times.

  “From what I could make out from Mrs. Lawrence’s gestures, you missed the pillow on the dresser by a foot. You’re going to have a big old knot to go along with that shiner. There’s some aspirin in my small travel case along with the rest of my meds.”

  “Where is Tabby?” We hadn’t really finished our little discussion. Unlike my first girlfriend in high school, I didn’t fake an injury to get out of an awkward conversation this time. Maybe this was karma paying me back?

  “She took a walk. Was fit to be tied when she came running down to fetch me”

  “Did she say if she was coming back?”

  The preacher laughed. “Did you forget that I can’t hear ghosts like you do? Exactly, how hard did you hit your head?”

  I fumbled around and found the aspirin and went to the bathroom for a glass of water. “I used to not be able to, until Eva ‘fixed’ me. Maybe you could learn how to as well.”

  From the other room came his reply, “It’d be nice, Mike. But seeing the way you end up learnin’ new things, I think I’ll pass on all that pain.”

  “You missed your calling. You should’ve been doing standup comedy,” I replied after swallowing the medicine.

  “Sides,” he continued ignoring my verbal barb. “I’m a little too old to start fighting ghosts. I think I’ll just stick to the mentoring business. A lot less bumps and bruises that way.”

  I had to admit, it was a better line of work than I was currently in and I told him so.

  “Pay still stinks,” he said cackling a bit more before breaking into a coughing fit.

  Taking notice, I emerged from the bathroom and said. “How about you? You’ve been coughing a whole lot lately, are you okay?”

  “It’s nothing much. All this heat is draining out my sinuses and that’s been making my throat raw. Nothing a few lozenges won’t take care of.”

  His dismissal was pretty casual, but I got the sense that there was more to it than that and was reminded that just because I didn’t feel the need to lie to him on account of everything that we’d been through, it didn’t mean Silas Parker was ready to tell me everything wrong in his life. Grandpa Warren was like that. He kept his medical conditions close to his vest. In the final year of his life, he was in and out of the hospital … come to think of it, my dislike of the medical profession probably started back then. It was a real crappy time in my life.

  Either way, it was best to change the topic. “I should probably wait for Tabby to come back, but do you want to see my latest trick?”

  “Are you sure you’re up for it?”

  “Yeah,” I held up one of the miniature soap bars from the bathroom and sat down on the middle of the bed. “I’ll stick to small things and I’m doing it here. If I pass out again, at least I’ll be in the right spot.”

  I pulled on those spots again, not too hard mind you, and recreated my “tweezers.” I tossed the result to Silas, who was happy to be able to reach up and catch it.

  “Hmmm,” he said holding it to his nose. “I can even smell it.” Silas peeled away the wrapper and used his fingers to snap it in half. “Let’s see how long it lasts.”

  “If it does, I need to go visit some pawn shops.”

  “What are you thinking, Mike?”

  “Another knife, some brass knuckles, a crossbow, and maybe even a bullwhip like Roger Taney had. I don’t know, all kinds of things I
can’t just walk around in public with normally, I guess,” I answered.

  “Well, if you’re heading down that route, you might want to look at things like handcuff keys and a set of lock picks.”

  My jaw dropped. That was definitely not what I’d expected him to say.

  He shrugged and continued. “From what you said about the group in New Jersey and at The Alamo, they have Skinwalkers who were on the police force. It wouldn’t be too hard to pick you up on some trumped up accusation.”

  “I don’t exactly know how to pick a lock. I suppose I could find someone out there to show me how.” True, I was a juvenile delinquent in my youth, but I was strictly an amateur. Jimmy Wilkes and I never opted to “turn pro” and lose our college eligibility.