Journey of Souls (The Mortality Series)

by Melanie S. Pronia

  Back in the car, both Justine and Patrick were silent with their own thoughts. Patrick slowly backed out of the landlocked driveway and headed toward the Edgar Cayce Museum, happy to fill one of Conroy's demanding assignments. As Patrick turned back onto the main street, he noticed the police cruiser heading toward the Ferry Plantation House. He forced himself to remain calm and casually kept driving.

  Justine giggled at Patrick's pale-faced

  awkwardness; she couldn't help it because suddenly she felt so alive and strong. The giggle became contagious to Patrick as the two of them erupted into a loud, uncontrollable, raucous laughter.

  "You're something else, Justine Ramsey, you know that?" She threw her arms around him, distracting him from his driving.

  "I love you, Patrick McCullough." Although it wasn't the first time he had heard her say the words, it still managed to feel as good as it had the first time. He pulled her closer to him and knew without a doubt that she was the woman he would marry--if she'd have him of course.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Justine stared down at the photo in fearful amazement. There she was lying on the ground in Yorktown, only it wasn't just her. There was a haze floating above her and the very faint obscurity of a male form residing, or rather rising from her own body.

  Conroy stood behind Justine, leaning over her shoulder, his thick finger tapping at the picture earnestly. "Scientifically, this would normally be categorized as a Type A possession. However, since the spirit did not remain in your body, or make you move or speak, it cannot 'scientifically' be called a possession."

  "Justine, the spirit of this man did inhabit your body though, he was inside your body and mind for about two minutes," the look on Conroy’s face was both frightened and concerned.

  When she felt Conroy shift positions and walk around the table, she turned to meet his eyes. He stopped and paused as if considering his next words carefully.

  "Justine, this kind of thing should never happen, it is entirely too dangerous. How he so easily passed into you is frightening." He leaned down once again to meet her eyes.

  "Be careful, Justine, please. You are way too open sometimes; learn to push it back. Go home hon, it's been a long week, have a good weekend." He headed out of the door of his office before she got a chance to respond in any way.

  A few hours later, Justine was curled up in her comfortable recliner chatting on the phone with Sheryl, whom she hadn't seen in over a week. It was Friday night and Sheryl was preparing to go out on a date with the new guy she was seeing.

  Sheryl’s voice bubbled over with excitement when she said, "He's so gorgeous, Justine! Hair black as night, built, sexy! And he's even great with Toby."

  Sheryl laughed brightly.

  "But anyway, enough about me, how did your trip up to Virginia go?"

  "Well, it was both good and bad," Justine replied levelly.

  "What do you mean?"

  "Oh, god, Sheryl, it was crazy! First Liz got drunk and attacked Patrick in my room."

  "Wait, Justine, Liz who?"

  "She works at Spectrum with us. Then there was this guy who called me a witch and came to my room." Justine paused and sighed, "Sheryl let me get a soda real quick, then I'll tell you all about it."

  "Okay."

  Justine relayed the entire story, after which the two women hung up a few minutes later with Sheryl warning Justine to “be careful”. She agreed that she would and told Sheryl how happy she was for her about her new guy.

  Justine glanced at the beautiful leaf and wrought iron clock on her living room wall. It was only nine o'clock, and she was surprised to realize how tired she already was. She considered calling Patrick on his cell phone, but didn't want to seem like a nagging female while he was enjoying a night out with the guys. Besides, she knew she would see him

  tomorrow.

  Deciding sleep was the best way to spend some down time, Justine dimmed the lights and quietly climbed the stairs to the second floor. Tired but happy, she crawled into the large, warm bed and quickly sunk down into the smooth depths of sleep and dreams.

  The land was beautiful and endless with the golden sun sparkling down on gem-colored fruits that hung from the vibrant, bright green trees she slowly walked passed. Wearing a loose white dress, Justine practically danced along an almost indiscernible trail that abruptly became an intersection. She stopped then, suddenly apprehensive, and turned in a large, sweeping circle to the east, south, west, and then back to the north. Each direction appeared to be the same, and suddenly she didn't feel so at peace.

  Standing before Justine as if it had been there all along was a small white fenceless gate, seemingly very out of place, because she could easily pass around it in any direction without having to open it. She wondered where she was and what she was doing there. The sky started to swarm with a wave of red color, and as she watched the clouds of crimson grow bolder with every second. Shadows gathered on the land and at her feet, and sudden lightning and thunder was overruled by the heavy voice that seemed to speak from the sky.

  "Shall you tumble through the brambling branches, beware do not get lost. Deep within the forest at the crossroads you will see a gate, it's your destiny. Enter it as you may, bringing forth a wealth of wisdom or an eternity of derision."

  With an emptiness that was so sudden and unexpected, the voice went quiet. Justine looked around, aware of the cold that was seeping into her bones as the sky was now a dark pulsing red, the land around her thick with trees and shadows of the unknown. No longer was it the pleasant land of bright promise that it had been.

  "Hesitancy abounds you with indecision," the heavy voice spoke again.

  "To stay behind at the gate, or step through something you know naught of. Look into your heart, free your mind of the fallacies of life. Love once more, or stay back and die. Destiny's doorway, an entrance of change. Cloaked by the night, afraid of what you cannot see, enchanted by what may be."

  The shadows around her seemed to be closing in, surrounding her in their frozen breath. She was quite certain that nothing seemed enchanting at the moment.

  "Enter you the gate, your soul the key within, open and alive, a fairy tail of illusion your prize."

  A heavy hand abruptly dropped solidly onto her shoulder. With a surprising calmness, Justine turned to look into the face, only there was no face. Just a black, hooded cloak surrounding a seemingly empty form. She pushed the hand away, and ran into the night, screaming.

  Justine woke up gasping for breath and covered in sweat. She reached over and snapped on the bed side lamp. Her room was comfortingly empty, yet achingly lonely. Justine slowly slid out of bed and cautiously proceeded downstairs for a glass of water, deciding instead on a glass of wine. She knew she was still half asleep, the terrible dream still clinging with an icy grip on her mind. What could all of that have meant, she wondered. She took her wine to the over stuffed recliner, settled in, and turned on the television before slowly falling back into a dreamless sleep.

  *****

  The next morning was full of sun and the heavy heat that only the South can claim. Justine knocked on her mother's door, before pushing the door open and entering the house.

  "Momma," she called out.

  "In here." Alice sat on the couch, with a coffee cup in her hand which rested on her lap. She appeared rumpled, tired, and sickly thin. She stared dully at a black and white film on the television, her eyes only leaving it long enough to glance at Justine.

  "How's work, Momma?" Alice snorted before finally giving Justine her full attention.

  "It's not, I don't work there anymore." Justine noticed that her eyes were glazed as the smile she offered sent a chill down Justine's spine. Justine stood up, the nervous energy in her legs practically demanding her do to so.

  "Why not?"

  "Because I don't need a damn job! That's why!"

  Justine walked toward her mother and quietly sat down next to her. Alice moved with a speed that seemed surprising for her condition,
attempting to slide to the other end of the couch. The coffee cup tipped over, causing both women to immediately jump up. Justine quickly went to retrieve the overturned cup, but her heart suddenly plummeted with anguish because it had been full of wine. She quickly snatched up the cup and faced her mother.

  "You need to get help, Mom, let me help you."

  Alice turned and started heading toward her bedroom on wobbly legs, before shouting over her shoulder, "You want to help me, Justine? Bring me back your father! There is no help without him, no reason."

  Justine followed her mother to the bedroom.

  "Momma, you know that I can't do that." Her voice was solemn with grief.

  "Why not? Huh?" The anger in Alice's eyes seemed to almost scorch Justine's flesh. "You're a ghost hunter, aren't you? Well, damn it! Find his ghost, turn him back into flesh, and bring him back to me!"

  "I can't do that."

  An idea slipped into her mind that she hopefully embraced, and her voice grew with a surprising hope. "But I have talked to him, Momma, he surprised me with a visit in my apartment one day. He's worried about you, Momma, told me to watch out for you and take care of you." Alice swung her face around to look at Justine, a slice of hope lingering in her own glossy green eyes.

  "He did?" Alice's voice trembled with emotion.

  "Yes." Alice walked over to Justine and roughly grabbed her by the shoulders before shaking her.

  "You tell him to come back to me, Justine, you make him listen!"

  Justine gently pushed away her mother's hands before taking a step back.

  "Mom, you know that I can't do that." She went to place her hand on her mother's shoulder but, furiously, Alice pushed it away.

  "Then get the hell out, you're no good to me! Get out and let me die in peace!" Having no choice or any better ideas, Justine quietly slipped out of the house and sat in her car quietly crying.

  Feeling helpless and desperate, Justine started the car and drove to where she might be able to find the one person who could give her some helpful answers. The day was bright and cheerful but neither left a positive impression on Justine's mood. She reached down and turned on the radio in an attempt to distract her worried mind. The song flowing from the speakers seemed perfectly, almost eerily, appropriate as the silky voice of Robert Plant slowly weaved a twisted tail of the Stairway to Heaven.

  Justine took a left hand turn and immediately felt surrounded and comforted by the ancient trees that stood on each side of the road, reaching out to one another as if they were lovers who had been separated by a cruel fate. For a moment, (just a moment, she promised herself), she would relax and revel under the fresh energy that vibrated from the canopy of trees.

  It had been a while since her last visit she knew, and she wasn't proud of it either. But cemeteries freaked her out. It wasn't the cadavers that bothered her. It was the souls of many of them who seemed intent on remaining within the cemetery gates, instead of stepping into that glorious “bright light” that everyone speaks of. They were bored, lonely souls who were almost too friendly at times. To most people, even though they could be creepy, cemeteries were a place of rest and quiet. To Justine, she might as well be at a crowded party where she didn’t know or trust any of the other guests.

  Instantly alerted and tense, Justine swerved the car away from the side of the road where a teenager was walking close to the edge of the road next to the cemetery fence. Justine glanced in the rearview mirror and noticed that the girl was running as if trying to catch up with her car.

  "Help me!"

  Justine recognized the words more from seeing the way they were mouthed than from actually hearing them. She hit her breaks and pulled roughly to the side of the road. Before she could even put the car in park the teenager was standing next to her car. She nearly popped her head in through Justine's open window.

  "You've got to help me! I don't know where I am or how I got here!" The girl rested her dirty hands on the open window of the car. "I've been here all morning trying to flag someone down, but no one would stop to help me."

  The girl's face was distraught and swollen with tears. Forcing herself to calm down and think coherently, Justine looked the frightened teenager over. There were a few small dark reddish brownish stains on the front of her pale pink blouse, her hair was rumpled, and the smell of sweat and something sour that Justine couldn't quite define radiated off of her body. Justine cautiously slid out of the car, grabbing her cell phone.

  "Okay, calm down, just slow down and talk to me." The softness in Justine's voice seemed to have a soothing affect on the teenager who stood clasping and unclasping her hands together in agitation.

  "I - I just woke up, here, on the ground in the dirt. There were all these things around me, watching me, people I thought at first, but they weren't quite like regular people. There is something wrong with them."

  "Is that blood on your shirt?" Justine asked softly, pointing at the small stains on her shirt. Confused, the girl looked down at her shirt. She placed a shaky hand over one stain and then cautiously touched another before slowly looking back up at Justine with eyes that seemed to be frozen in fear.

  "Oh, my god! I've been cut, I'm bleeding!" The sudden whirl of panic frightened Justine who was handling the situation with all the coolness she could muster.

  "Okay, sit down," Justine guided the girl with hands that she had intended to be gentler but were rough and shaky with panic. Once she had seated the girl, she took a place next to her on the thick grass.

  "Do the cuts hurt?"

  Again the girl delicately touched each stain, then jerked her hand back as if it had been burned.

  "No they don't. Shouldn't they hurt? They feel so deep!" When the girl attempted to dizzily stand back up, Justine simply placed a bracing hand on her and met her eyes softly. It was all so sad that Justine knew no matter what words she could find to explain the girl's condition to her, they wouldn't be the right ones.

  "What’s your name, hon?" The girl hesitated but reluctantly allowed herself to be drawn into Justine's line of questioning. The girl breathed in deeply, but her words still trembled as she replied.

  "Sara." Forcing herself to remain steady, Justine stroked her shoulder gently, surprised to feel the dense solidness of it.

  "Okay, Sara, what is your last name?" Again Justine’s voice was smooth and calming, carefully concealing her agitation.

  "Why, what does it matter? I have to go to the hospital!" Again, Sara, tried to stand up on legs that were entirely too worn out to hold up her weight.

  "Sit down, Sara, it’s okay. The bleeding has stopped. I need to know your last name in order to help you."

  Sara cupped her face in her hands before running them over her unruly hair.

  "Ah okay, it's Dramore, I'm Sara Dramore." Justine was pleased to notice that a little calmness was finally settling back into the girl. Justine stood up and offered a hand to Sara, closing her eyes in pure revulsion due to the floppiness, as Sara's cold hand slid unhesitantly into her own hand.

  "We are going to take a walk, so you can calm down a little before we leave." Meekly, Sara walked alongside of Justine, her body rank with a stench that was reserved only for sickness and death.

  "I want you to show me where you woke up."

  Sara simply nodded and continued to walk slowly on legs that were losing some of their firmness. Justine slowed her own pace a bit to let Sara take the lead. Feeling the many curious eyes on her, Justine swallowed back her fear and tried to ignore any new sensations. Sara appeared to be bewildered and disoriented when she circled the back section of the cemetery three times, but she finally came to a spot on the ground next to a freshly prepared gravesite.

  Justine found exactly what she assumed she might find, a head stone with the inscribed name Sara Lynn Dramore, June 31, 1988 - March 23, 2004. With every bit of her will, Justine bit back tears as she gently took Sara's hands into her own, again forcing herself to ignore the cold clamminess. She gathered her words, searchin
g for anything that wouldn't be too difficult for the young girl to accept.

  "Sara, look at this grave marker." Justine turned her just slightly without releasing her hands. Instead of the reaction of fear which Justine had predicted, Sara stepped back in anger.

  "What is this? That's my name! How dare them put my name on a tombstone!" Justine quickly swung back to grab Sara, placing a firm grip on her shoulders.

  "Sara, you're dead, this is your grave." She stared for endless miles into soft gray eyes that were void of any light.

  "What? I'm not dead! You don't know what you're talking about!" She tried to shrug Justine off but was unable to do so. "How could I be standing here talking to you if I was dead?"

  "Sara, you have blood on your clothes, you have cuts that don't hurt. I'm sorry sweetie, I don't know how you died, but you have and this is your grave. You're a spirit now."

  Sensing Sara's need for a private moment, Justine released her and stepped back. The girl’s shoulders crumpled and swelled with the vibrations of her hot tears and grief. Feeling awkward, Justine simply stood there, waiting for Sara to get a hold of herself.

  "This is the worst day of my life," Sara mumbled, her words quietly reached Justine's ears. It defiantly is kiddo, and the last, Justine thought before

  admonishing herself silently.

  She gingerly approached Sara, reaching out to grab her shoulders gently. Catching Justine off guard the hysterical ghost swung around to confront her.

  "Go away! Get out of here! You're so stupid, you're so stupid!" Her voice rose shrilly over the graveyard that Justine had tried to avoid looking at with any real concentration.

  "Get!" A light of warning violence rose in Sara's eyes. Splaying out her hands in surrender, Justine stepped back and turned to walk away once she felt she was within a safe enough distance from the ghost. She felt pathetically helpless and heartless, wishing she could do more for the ghost, but having no idea what that may be.

  "Sorry, Daddy, another day," she whispered under her breath.

  Feeling defeated and frankly unloved, Justine slipped behind the wheel of her car and slowly drove away. She had taken one last look at Sara who still stood helplessly in the cemetery with her back turned to the world.