In the Dead of Night

by Aiden James

  But, then the evil bastard through a major wrench into the works, effectively destroying my scheme.

  “Jimmy, you’re going to help Mr. Pierce up the ladder and then you’re going to put the noose around his neck,” said Melvin, lowering the barrel from his gun and driving it into my lower back. “When you get done with that, I’ll give you your final instructions. Am I clear? Oh, and any funny business on your part, I’ll blow his head off and then your lovely wife will take his place with a noose around her tender neck. Comprende?”

  It was the worst moment of my entire life. Without any way to gain the upper hand and wrestle the gun from his hands, as well as getting off a pair of shots to take out Jerry and Jason, I was helpless. I love Justin, but as much as I couldn’t bear hurting him in any way, I couldn’t deal with putting the woman I was sworn to love and protect even more so. Fiona is the very essence of my heart and soul.

  “I’m so sorry, Justin,” I said, no longer restraining the grief I had been holding back. “I’m s-so s-s-sorry!….”

  “It’s okay, Jimmy…there ain’t nothin’ you can do to stop this, man,” he sniffed, calmer than just a moment before. He had seemingly made peace with himself, and acted resigned to his fate. “Just get it over with…I’ll see you soon.”

  We both chuckled sadly at the reality he had just prophesied, since I had no doubt that before daylight returned to this godforsaken place we would all be on the other side of the veil that separates the living from the dead.

  I placed the noose around his neck, to renewed anguished cries from Fiona, Jackie, and Michelle, and catcalls of joy from the Thomas brothers. Then I stepped off the ladder that was already teetering due to the fact only three legs of its four touched the ground in front of the tree.

  “Very good, Jimmy boy,” said Melvin, who slapped his hands together in delight. “Now…just one more thing and we can get this program moving along. When I count to three, I want you to kick the ladder out from under your buddy here.”

  “You’ve got to be frigging joking, man.”

  “Do I look like I’m joking?”

  Well, no, Melvin. You look like a big dumb asshole, and definitely one who likes to hurt other people.

  He pointed his rifle at me again, when I didn’t immediately comply with his orders.

  “One last time, James…kick the ladder. Do it now—”

  To be honest, I don’t believe I could’ve ever done what Melvin demanded of me. All I knew was that things were about to get much worse, and very quickly, for the rest of us. That was all that was running through my head, as a single loop going faster and faster in my terrified mind. That’s probably why it took me a moment to hear what drew everyone’s attention to the road.

  “What in the hell….” Jason’s whisper sounded astonished, and he was the first to go investigate, pointing his rifle into the darkness where the road sat. “Show yourself or I’ll blow your fuckin’ head off!”

  That’s when I heard what was causing a new murmur to sweep through our NVP ladies and gents huddled in front of Jason, who was barely paying attention to them. In fact, if Tom or Ricky had been thinking clearly, they could’ve overpowered him and taken their chances in a one on two gun battle with Melvin and Jerry. Then again, I began to doubt that Jerry would be paying attention to anything other than the tall shadowed form that had just jumped the gate and slowly approached us along the gravel drive to the barn.

  At first, I thought the heavy ‘click-cluck’ sounds echoing in the night were an audio hallucination caused by the coolness on the highway and the wind blowing across the wide-open valley the road travels through. But then the strange sounds continued. As impossibly fortuitous as it seemed, the tall figure turned out to be a man riding a horse. A man that forced me to do a double take.

  At first, I mistook him as some mounted policeman that worked for the Jefferson City police force—ignoring the fact that he suddenly appeared as if out of thin air. But then I noticed the older style of the leather saddle and the man’s boots.

  “Are you deaf or just plain stupid?” continued Jerry, when the rider seemingly ignored his initial warning.

  The man said nothing. Once the horse stepped up to within a few feet of where Jerry stood with his rifle pointed at them both, it stopped. Jason stepped over to his brother and cousin, who had yet to react to the strange visitor, and pointed his flashlight up at him.

  I’m ashamed to admit that I half expected the rider to be a ghoulish apparition. Maybe it was because his head hung down, as if he were riding the horse while asleep. Or, perhaps it was the Union officer outfit the man wore—one, I might add, that would cost a pretty penny by today’s standards. Everything looked authentic, from the feathered hat to the sword and crimson sash that hung from his side. Even the gold embroidered crossed cannons on his hat and the three gold chords and two silver bars on his single breasted frock coat looked like the ones I had once seen on display at the Smithsonian a few years back.

  “Well, captain, it does appear you are trespassing. State your business, here.”

  Yeah, that was Melvin being an ass again. For all he knew, this guy might have a legitimate right to be here—and would be closer to the type of guy the big idiot supports. The dude sure looked like a Union reenactor to me.

  I glanced at Fiona, thinking that maybe this would be the time to make a move, since this guy had all three of our captors’ attention. Was this a moment of incredible luck? Hell, yes, even if this was another Civil War wannabe nutcase.

  But my wife slowly shook her head, and used her reddened eyes to tell me not to do a damned thing.

  Are you kidding me, babe? Shit!

  The man remained motionless, although the horse snorted, before looking away from Melvin, as if the scent of the fiend was offensive. Melvin raised his rifle, and pointed it at the rider, as did Jason. All three automatic weapons prepared to obliterate horse and man.

  “I said, state your business, asshole!” Melvin hissed.

  “Who in the hell do you think you are, anyway?”

  Jerry’s query got him an annoyed glance from his dear cuz. Meanwhile, the man dressed as a Civil War Union officer slowly raised his head.

  Well, he certainly looked normal, with warm brown eyes and generally handsome features. Only the beard seemed unusual…but not incredibly so. A lot of modern day Civil War pretenders wear beards that are basically long, bushy goatees. Hey, that’s how Fiona and Jackie describe these ZZ Top beards, which has always been enough for me to never try to grow one. Bully for this guy for being his own man.

  “I don’t know who I am,” the man replied. “But what you are about to do is morally reprehensible, and it is now illegal, following President Lincoln’s Emancipation Proclamation from January this year.”

  Hard to say why, but the dude’s voice sounded a little off, like he hadn’t spoken to anyone in many years. Granted, after everything that had happened in the past half hour, it could’ve been my ears. But another glance at Fiona told me that she was intently studying this guy and paying attention to nothing else around her—not even the puzzled looks on our ghost hunting pal’s faces. Her fascination wasn’t just because of what he said.

  “What in the hell kind of response is that?” said Jason, chuckling. “Hot damn, you are really good, dude.”

  “It does seem like captain ‘no name’ here has gone to a great deal of trouble to portray a valiant Union officer,” added Melvin, to which the Thomas twins laughed heartily. “Such impressive detail in your costume, sir. Bravo! I’m impressed with your seamstress’s attention to the smallest details on your gloves’ embroidery, and especially the one-eighth inch scarlet welt along the sides of your sky blue trousers. Most impressive, indeed!”

  By then, I was starting to get really angry again. Justin was looking down at me and mouthing a plea to climb the ladder and remove the noose from his neck. I felt like such a frigging loser because my wife wouldn’t let me make any move to seize the advantage against this trio
who were much more interested in Mr. Union wannabe than us. Hell, when I shot a new fiery glance Fiona’s way she mouthed ‘Don’t screw this up!’

  What in the hell?!

  “The man nodded thoughtfully, and then looked up at Justin, bringing his horse a few steps closer.

  “Hold it right there, motherfucker!”

  Jerry was the one to object this time.

  “I understand that you southern sympathizers hold to Jefferson Davis’s dreams with admirable passion,” he said, pausing to look at Melvin and his cousins, who had brought the muzzles from their weapons to rest upon his saddle. “However, gentlemen, since we have won the battle here, and have now turned the war in our favor, it is best that you cut the rope and let the Negro go free. Otherwise, I will be forced to shoot you.”

  Laughter erupted. Lots of it. So much that I almost took things into my own hands and charged either one of the Thomas twins to grab a weapon. I would square things later with my wife, and I prayed that my intent would be heavenly assisted. I took the initial step, but then the officer-dude on the horse eyed me coldly. For whatever reason—and it makes little sense to me even now—I froze.

  “This guy is a fuckin’ hoot!” shouted Jerry, who paused to slap his brother across his back and send a menacing look toward the rest of us.

  “Well, boys…it appears our friend here doesn’t understand the difference between fantasy and reality.” Melvin chuckled, callously. He was on his way back to his angry psycho persona. “Why don’t we give him a lesson to help him understand that difference…one that he’ll never forget?”

  “Sounds good to me, Mel!”

  Jerry’s response was heartily echoed by Jason.

  “On three.” Melvin paused to spit a wad of chewed tobacco on the horses left leg, to which the nameless captain casually glanced at the slimy residue coursing down toward the hoof. “One…two…three!”

  All three opened fire. A barrage of bullets pelted the officer’s torso, and should’ve knocked him clean off his horse. It also appeared that random shots somehow missed both horse and man, which told me the threesome were simply spraying bullets as if they were Compton ‘gangstas’, instead of the calculating killers they had been for the past month and a half. The officer nearly fell off the horse, but instead leaned forward as if trying to catch every round fired upon him and the intense hatred that accompanied each shot.

  When it was over, Melvin prepared to nudge the fresh corpse with the tip of his gun’s barrel. The officer suddenly sat up, and this time Melvin and his cousins gasped. Not only was he still alive, he appeared unharmed. However, something had changed, and as the rest of us looked on, I felt dumbfounded by what my eyes and sense of smell were telling me.

  The dude undoubtedly came from the distant past. Not only did he look even more authentic than just moments ago, but he and his horse smelled like I suppose horses and men who bathed once a week when out on the field of duty in 1863 smelled.

  But that was not all…his eyes had changed. They were now black as midnight, with a fiery red glow around the rims. And his voice seemed deeper as he chuckled. And it was a chuckle far more sardonic than the one Melvin had greeted us with earlier that evening.

  “My turn!” his voice rumbled.

  I doubt any of the three had seen the handles from the pair of Colt revolvers sticking up from the saddle holsters. Before Melvin, Jerry, and Jason could react, this Union captain who had stated he didn’t know his name pulled the guns out and fired two shots.

  Jerry screamed in pain, as a bullet ripped through his left shoulder, and I could hear the bones crack as it tore through the other side. Jason screamed, too, but he wasn’t hit…yet. For a moment, it seemed as if he wanted to come to his brother’s aid. But in the next moment, his agenda changed. Melvin trembled and turned around just long enough for us all to see the gaping hole just above the brim of his black bolero. Then he fell over. Dead.

  Upon realizing his cousin wasn’t among the living any longer, and that his brother would be more of a hindrance than an aid, Jason took off running. It appeared he was heading to the small tributary that feeds Mossy Creek behind the barn.

  The officer watched him, and then cocked the triggers on his Colt revolvers. He raised the weapon in his right hand, and aimed just above Justin’s head and fired. Justin fell to the ground, freed from the hangman’s noose.

  “Gentlemen…ladies,” said the officer to the rest of us, his voice only slightly subdued from a moment ago. His eyes were even more ablaze, like burning coals. “Always be careful of what you wish for. Good evening!”

  He then spurred his horse onward, and as he moved past the tree it became apparent that he was giving chase to Jason. It was too dark to see what went on beyond the barn. However, I imagine that once Jason realized he was being pursued by someone, or something, not from our natural world, he was even more sorely surprised than he had been just moments earlier.

  At least that’s what his screams sounded like in the distance. Shrieks of terror that were followed by a single gunshot and a horse’s neigh that abruptly cut off before it had finished. Then one last brisk breeze blew toward us from beyond the barn. Amid Jason’s agonizing cries and our own sobs of relief, Jackie finally had enough signal on her cell phone to make the 911 call she had been trying to connect since our ordeal began. An ordeal that had lasted all of twenty-eight minutes, it felt much, much longer.

  But at least it, and the shedding of so much innocent blood, was over. Finally.

  Chapter Eighteen

  So, NashVegas Paranormal lives to ghost hunt another day…or night, depending upon how one looks at it.

  As seems fitting, I am ending this narrative on New Year’s Eve. Justin and Lakisha will be arriving in Arrington in the next few minutes or so, and then we’re off as a foursome to say goodbye to a difficult year and hello to new hopes and dreams. In a white stretch limousine, no less, and one that’s idling outside at this very moment.

  All of us are grateful to still be here in the land of the living, and tomorrow, on New Year’s Day, we are all getting together as bonded friends. That is, Jackie, Michelle, Tom, Tony, Ricky, Justin, Fiona, and I—along with our newest willing recruit, Lakisha. It does seem possible that nine members will prove to be a luckier number than eight, and our first meeting of the year will be mostly to celebrate our survival.

  Oh, yes, much is in store for us in the coming year. Paranormal This Week is back in business, now that the threats of continual sabotage and death are behind us. We will finish up our Civil War ghost tour shows in January, and then begin canvassing the Deep South’s most haunted bed and breakfast locales in February. We hope to begin this next tour in mid-March.

  Lisa Stanfield is running the project with us for the time being. At least until Nick Rhodes fully recovers from the severe injuries he sustained when the Thomas brothers and Melvin Schoels ambushed him in his bedroom. Remarkably enough, the doctors believe Nick will eventually make an almost full recovery, which is a far cry better than their initial diagnosis when he awoke from his coma the morning after our unfortunate visit to Mossy Creek.

  So, all in all, things are looking up. However, I’m sure y’all have many more questions, or concerns, than after we published our first account, Deadly Night. I’ll see if I can answer a few of those questions and concerns before we bid each other adieu.

  Some of you may now be skeptical of Fiona’s gifts, since she seemed clueless of the grave danger we were in, out there along the lonely AJ Highway. I can respect that opinion, as she also does. True, she didn’t expect for us to be fighting for our lives that Saturday evening. But she never was entirely sold on the Thomas twins as being upstanding citizens in the first place. Also, keep in mind that she had never met Melvin Schoels previously. Since she thought we had blown it by letting Chris Grimes leave Quagmire in September, I never mentioned Melvin to her by name.

  Fiona now admits to being swayed by the tantalizing lure of having a hit paranormal TV program that w
as further fed by Jackie and Tom’s infatuation with the brothers—not to mention Lisa and Nick were high on them, as well. I guess it just goes to show she is human like the rest of us—born to make mistakes, and ignore her better judgment.

  Still, she did foresee our rescue when all seemed lost at Mossy Creek. She shared her vision with me later that night in our Sevierville cabin, in front of a warm fire while we laid together naked on a faux bear rug. Often, we have our best heart to heart conversations in such intimacy. Although, much of our intimate discussion left me chilled upon hearing certain details from that earlier vision.

  The Union officer, who shall forever remain unnamed other than his rank of captain, is entombed somewhere inside the Branner Cemetery. He could be any of the approximately one hundred and fifty souls residing beneath the rows of unmarked graves. While it is possible for Fiona to tell us which one of the graves he emerged from that evening, at this time she prefers to leave well enough alone. As the spirit and that of his favored horse rose up from the decaying remains several feet below the frigid surface, his eyes were as hellish as when the unknown captain gave us his final advisement.

  Always be careful of what you wish for.

  Fiona feels he somehow heard our anguish and responded. As to why? On that part, she’s not sure. But, she is taking his final warning for us all to heart, and in no way does she wish to see him ever again. Hell, none of us do. Especially, after the cold look he gave me when I almost interfered with his intended task of freeing Justin. Not to mention the fact Jason Thomas has never been heard from since that night. The Jefferson City Sheriff’s department says he must’ve escaped—despite their prized German Shepherd police dogs’ inability to track his scent beyond a barbed wire fence lining the back of the barn’s property.

  According to my wife, Jason will never be found. However, for those bold enough to look, they might discover what’s left of Jason residing with the bare bones of that night’s savior, if ever his tomb was disturbed.