by Dawn Gray
Together we walked out of the room, and into where the rest of the team was sitting. Daniels stood up, looked over at the kitchen table and gestured his head to the assortment of goodies that were there waiting for me.
I walked over, more than curious to see what kind of gadgets ghost hunters of this kind played with. He held up a little orange box with a meter within its plastic window.
“An EMF meter, for those of us who don’t have audio or visual communication skills, this can detect the presence of the little bastards for us. It reads the electro-magnetic fields around the area. When it goes off, there’s a good chance there’s a spook about.” He tapped it and put it down on the table, picking up the next toy, a small camera with a monitor attached. “A thermal scanner picks up cold spots where we can’t physically see it. Human’s come up red, and most specters come up blue.”
“Most?” I inquired.
“We’ve run into some who give off heat,” Harris replied, shrugging. “That’s where this little thing comes in handy.”
He held up the same device but with a microphone applied to the top of its monitor. Curious, I took it in my hands to look it over.
“It reads heartbeats, if it’s warm but doesn’t read a pulse, then we know it’s not human.”
There were several sets of the equipment he had shown to me on the table, but I gently ran my hand over the rifle on the end.
“The woman likes the loud stuff.” Walters laughed as I shot him a look.
“This is an M4A1 Carbine Rifle, with semi-automatic and automatic settings,” Daniels lovingly whispered, stroking the barrel.
“You brought a gun to a ghost fight?” I questioned.
“Not just any gun,” Zander explained, as he stood and walked over. With his hand out, Daniels set a unique bullet down into the middle of his palm and Zander brought it closer to me. “The shells are pure copper, which conducts electricity. Inside is basically a battery. When the shell is fired from the rifle, the force of it triggers the mechanism inside and begins the conduction of power cells.”
“Once the thing strikes, the shells blasts into a million tiny electrically charged bombs that fry the demon from the inside,” Harris finished. “The types of spooks we fight aren’t the transparent ones. They have solid body mass and form.”
“And you do this enough to have a specialized weapon to kill them with?” I inquired, watching them all nod. “Oh.”
“No more show and tell, let’s get this ball rolling!” Everett spoke up, having gotten a new cigar to stick out of his mouth.
Zander smiled at the annoyance in my eyes as I looked at the brown wrapped cigar. “At least he’s not killing us all by lighting it.”
“He’s like a kid with an oral fixation problem,” I said as I watched him bob it up and down between his teeth.
Zander laughed and handed me my black coat. “Come on.”
The SUV felt like a tank, bumping along the paved roads through town as the motor hummed with the loudness of a jet engine. Zander leaned over to whisper in my ear, but the only thing I felt was his warm breath on my neck and the pulse as his hand took mine.
You don’t need to whisper, I joked.
Hey, I’m trying to make it look convincing; besides, I enjoy being this close to you. He laughed, which made goose bumps run up my arms. Listen, in the collar of your jacket is a microphone and a transmitter. You can talk and hear me through this. With our connection, we don’t need it, but if we are separated, use it to contact the rest of the team. One of the boys will come to you if you need them, if I can’t make it.
It’s going to be strange stepping into my parents’ home with six of you. I smiled, making it look as though I was whispering back.
No, babe, you’re only going in the front door with me, the rest of them will find their own way in. Everett stays out here at command and Walters runs the computers, keeping track of all of us and where we pick up spirits.
So, you first as always? I questioned and watched him nod. I don’t think I would want your job.
For the last few days, I have been thinking that I don’t want it anymore either, he admitted and looked up to stare into my eyes, his flashing with emotion. I’m going to put in my resignation when this is over. I’ve been thinking of heading out east again, somewhere around Westfield. I hear there’s not much of a wait for military men who join the State Police out that way.
Zander, I…I watched as the seriousness filled his face and then he smiled. Well, I think I would like that very much.
Good. He smiled and sat back in his seat, playing with the 9 mm that he had retrieved from the bedroom before we left.
He had explained to me that doing the observation as he did, it took a lot to carry around a rifle, but he had done it in the church. He made a joke that it would be less intrusive if he brought the handgun instead when walking in the front door of a home that resembled the one I grew up with.
The SUV rumbled to a stop at the end of the long drive at the top of Miller’s point. I shook as I stepped out into the warming air and glanced around at the lush trees. It always looked dark and foreboding as you approached, even on the sunniest of summer days, but the gentle hand that took mine helped to ease the fright.
“Now, listen up!” Everett whispered, capturing my attention. “Daniels, you come up on the east, Rodriguez the west, Harris you circle around from the south and you!” he said as he looked at the two of us. “You know your instructions. Go in as the love birds you’re portraying, not that it will be too hard with that gaga look in your eyes, and scope out the place, then report back so we can send in the troops.”
“Yes, sir,” the four of them chorused and Everett looked at me.
“Oh, no, the only person I ever ‘yes, sired’ was my grandfather,” I announced, which got a chuckle from the others. “But I’ll ‘Aye, aye, Captain’ you if you want.”
“Smartass!” he grumbled and looked at Zander. “Get her out of here!”
Zander looked at me as we turned and treaded down the road. I smiled as I caught the glare out of the corner of my eye and I shrugged.
“What?”
“A court marshal!” he said, pressing his lips together as he scolded me with his eyes. I couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s exactly what you would get if you were army. Hell, just for ha-ha’s, I wouldn’t be surprised if Everett court marshaled me, just for the hell of it!”
“Oh, cut it out, you big baby!” I giggled.
“My mother warned me! She said ‘one day, you’re going to meet the girl of your dreams, and she’s going to do nothing but bust your ass!’ and she was right! I can’t believe my mom was right!” He babbled on, but his comment made me stop and stare at him, mouth agape with shock. He glanced back at me. “What?”
“I’m not the girl of your dreams, Zander,” I whispered and watched him walk back to me.
His hands were instantly on my cheeks, as he looked deep into my eyes and smiled. “Yes,” he stated. “You are.”
I took a deep breath and smiled as he kissed me heatedly before letting me go and walk on. I shook my head, trying to clear the fog, and caught up with him. He took my hand once more and the two of us moved on in silence.
When the house came into view, I let out a shivering breath and squeezed his fingers tighter.
“God, it’s just as frightening in the day as it is in the night,” he whispered quietly.
I spotted the black Honda as it sat near the door and gave his hand a tug. “Come on, they’re home.”
“Wonderful.”
The house was like any other old period Victorian; large arched walk leading to the door, with a small porch that wrapped around to the side of the building, shielding the dinning room windows from the glare of the sun. Not that much sun got in through the trees. The oversized living room windows were curtained with white-laced panels that had been pulled open so the people sitting inside could view us as we approached. The paint on the old place was chipping, and the brick over
lay on the upper veranda seemed cracked and wearing away, just as I had remembered it from my childhood.
The sitting area in the master bedroom had windows on four sides, giving a beautiful look at the valley below in the wintertime. Just across the French doors of the balcony, you could see the book-lined shelves of the library. I took a deep breath and pulled Zander along as we approached, stepping under the arch and up to the large door. With shaky hands, I knocked three times in rapid succession on the wood-grain before me.
Zander glanced around, taking in the area until he heard the footfalls on the hardwood floors just before the door. Slowly it opened and a woman, just a few inches shorter than I was, stood in the doorway, at first kicking the little spider that hid by the doorsill but then she looked up. The smile on her face faded as she stared at me, her brown eyes just as clear as I had seen them four years ago, and suddenly her face went white and her hand came up to her mouth.
“Samantha!” she gasped and backed up from the door.
“Ma?” I questioned, her hands shaking, and suddenly Zander stepped forward to catch her as her legs went out from under her.
Now I see where you get your fainting spells from, he whispered, and watched as I didn’t even reply, just stared at the frail woman on the floor in disbelief.
“Sharon, who is it?” My father’s voice echoed through the empty halls of the house and he came around the corner, removing the glasses from his face. He spotted Zander sitting on the floor with my mother’s head on his lap and he quickly went over. “What did you do to my wife?”
“Daddy?” I whispered.
He was just as I remembered him, always wearing dress pants and a button-up shirt. He was tall and lean, but built well for someone his age, and his hair was always full and neatly combed in a style that represented the years of his youth. He slowly looked up at me as I whispered his name, the same shock on his face mirrored my mother’s as he stood and stared at me in disbelief.
Careful, Sam, something here isn’t right, Zander warned, and I felt the pulse in him grow as he prepared to put himself between me and the man before me.
“Samantha?” he questioned; his voice shaky as he stared.
“Yeah, it’s me,” I replied. “What’s going on? Why are you looking at me as if I was a ghost?”
“Because you should be,” he answered bluntly, and I felt my whole body shake. Zander helped my mother up from the floor and I watched my father brace her against him as Zander took his place at my side. His hand gently gripped my arm as he pulled himself back against me.
“I don’t understand. I know I haven’t come to visit in a few years, but why would that make me a ghost?” Zander seemed to surround my body with his, preparing me for a blow that I wasn’t ready for.
“Because, dear,” my mother said, a bit of a giggle in her voice. “You’re dead.”
13
My father gestured to us to enter the house, leading us to the living room. Zander took in the volume ceiling of the foyer, looking all the way up to the tall ceilings of the second floor, and gently followed behind me, touching my back as he did. My mother sat down on her favorite chair, an old, plush recliner that was set near the fireplace.
He handed her a glass with three ice cubes and some beige liquid that reminded me of the brandy that I had been given earlier that morning. The older man moved, as he gestured for Zander and I to have a seat on the cranberry sofa, and then he sat silently in front of us on another recliner chair. I sat forward, unable to remain still and shook my head.
“I’m not dead!” I announced and watched my parents look at me.
“We buried you, sweetheart, in the cemetery up on Derby Street. You know, the one you liked going to on summer nights,” my mother whispered, as if I were a child, in a calming tone of voice.
“I’ve been living in Westfield, Massachusetts for seven years. I graduated from Burlington University. Ma, I’m not dead,” I reiterated. My father sat up, sighing as he did so.
“Samantha, listen, three years ago, there was a car accident. You were on your way home for Christmas vacation from work. The college was on break, and you wanted to talk to us about something, so you insisted on coming up. There was a storm, a freak blizzard, and your car went off the road,” he explained. I sat back as I recalled that winter.
I remember that, I confided in Zander. I was all packed and, at the last minute, I decided not to go. I don’t recall what came up, but I know that I just unpacked the car and called them, telling them that it was broken or some stupid excuse and I just stayed home. There was a storm, something that had blown in from the west, a bad Nor’easter that blinded everyone in its path.
“Sam, you died that day,” my father whispered as I shook my head.
“Are you still playing with that stuff in the basement, Dad?” I blurted out and watched the color fade from his face once again.
“What…what exactly are you referring too?” he questioned.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about, the lab in the basement?” I scowled. He stood abruptly, glanced at my mother, who seemed off in her own world, and walked out of the room. He gestured with his hand for us to follow.
“You never introduced your friend.” He spoke as he made is way to the door under the spiral staircase in the foyer.
“This is Zander Smith, my fiancé,” I announced and watched Zander grin widely.
My father stopped, turned and looked at the brown-eyed man at my side. He stared at him for a moment and I wondered if he saw the same flash in Zander’s eyes that I did, but he didn’t say a word, just nodded. He took his keys from his pocket and unlocked the door.
The stairway into the cellar was just as scary as it was when I was young and slowly I made the descent into the darkness between the two men. As we reached the bottom, my father flipped on the lights and his lab came into view. The glass cell that the ghoul had been trapped in still stood in the corner, beakers and Bunsen burners filled the tables, along with microscopes and notebooks of all kinds.
The white noise radio occupied the same place it had so long ago and I watched the storm brew up in Zander once again as he stared at the machine. His Adam’s apple bounced several times as he tried to swallow and then he took a deep breath and closed his eyes.
“What can you do, son?” my father asked as he stood by the end of one of the tables. Zander turned and looked at him, confusion marking his face.
“I’m sorry, sir, I don’t understand,” he replied, and I watched my father smile.
“Are you audio or visual?” he inquired and Zander’s gaze snapped in my direction.
“He’s visual, Dad,” I whispered, and watched the man nod.
“I thought you might find someone who was tied to what you could do.” He sighed. “I was hoping you would be able to escape it, but I see now that it’s just not possible.”
“There’s something going on that you need to know about,” I stated, stepping up to him.
My father seemed more interested in Zander than what I had to say and I turned to see just what he was looking at. I could feel the pulse coming from him the instant I moved towards him. He stared at the glass box, his breathing erratic as he watched, his brown eyes wide, and I could see the bolts of lightening behind them. My father could see his storm, and was fascinated by the colors that his eyes let off. I grabbed Zander around the arm and immediately could see the creature locked within the structure.
It was small, not more than a few feet tall, but it had the same look of the demon before, with the claws and the fangs, and I could tell that it was calling out to him just as the older demon had done. I blocked out the sound the best I could, shielding Zander from the attack of monster midget, and then I stepped in front of him.
Zander blinked, his ridged muscles gave way under my touch and he breathed in deeply as he looked down at me. With a smile, he reached out and brushed my cheek with the back of his hand.
“Amazing,” my father whispered, which made me l
ook in his direction, giving him full view of the blaze within my own. “Yes, I do believe there is some things I need to know.”
He quickly led Zander and I out of the basement and up the spiral staircase to the second floor. He glanced around, as I stared down the hallway at the door of my old room, and then watched as he unlocked the door to the attic. With quick gestures of his hands, he motioned for us to hurry up the stairway to the large attic room.
Nothing in this house had changed. The attic was still full of my mother’s antique collectables and other shelved knick-knacks, but it was through the loft and onto the balcony that he hurried us.
He stopped, opening the French doors to the veranda, and turned to look at us in the light. Stepping up to Zander, he watched the young man’s eyes before turning to mine and took in a deep breath.
“Tell me, dear daughter, what is going on?” he asked.
With his full attention trained on me, I told him the details of my arrival in this Colorado town, the extent of the powers that Zander and I held, and the fact of our connection in the past. I explained the way that our powers had first made themselves known, both with the same ghoul on the same night.
He stopped me short of telling him the theory of the other Samantha, since we knew now that she had passed away three years ago, and shook his head.
“Two alternate Wiltons, but both exactly the same except for the fact that you are here, both of you. One brought here by choice, the other by the danger that the other was in,” he whispered, rubbing the stubble on his chin. “It’s quite fascinating.”
“Dad, I don’t need fascinating, I need answers.” I sighed. “Listen, whatever this thing; spook, specter, whatever you want to call it is, it’s not only threatened me in the past, its come to me twice today already. Who was I supposed to be with? Who, Dad?”
