by Alex Silver
“Nothing strange happened to me beyond the odd noise. You wouldn’t know it from its current state, but that used to be quite the enterprise. Could hold almost fifty head of cattle. We did the milking all by hand. Takes longer that way for less yield, you know?”
“Yes, Lara mentioned when she showed me the new facilities. Very impressive.”
“The old place is falling apart now, have you seen it? Still gives me the creeps to think about Frank climbing up to the loft and looking out over his land before he did for himself, you know?”
“I can’t imagine. So when did they stop using the old barn?”
“Well, when they passed the rural electric act, Robert convinced his father it was time to build a bigger barn with fancy electric lighting to take advantage. Around that time, one of the younger Goodman boys got trampled by a spooked horse out at the old stables. Damn near lamed the boy, leg broken so bad it was a miracle he didn’t take sick and die.”
“That sounds serious.”
“Serious enough that Nate never liked to talk about the barn after that, he was superstitious about it. Couldn’t blame him after Frank’s ghost tried to kill him.”
“He blamed the ghost?”
“That he did. Anyway, in all the fuss someone knocked over a lantern. It would have set the whole building ablaze if Robert hadn’t put it out quick. That more than anything decided Elmer.”
“I don’t follow,” I said.
“Well, the animals acted funny sometimes, spooking for no reason we could tell, or behaving ornery. Anyway, after Nate broke his leg, the hands refused to go up in the loft. There were rumbles before, but afterward their imaginations ran wild. They claimed they heard strange sounds up there.”
“I can’t imagine that helped morale.”
“Nope. That settled it, Elmer agreed to build the new barn. Elmer kept the old barn up, added in box stalls for the horses and kept the cows in the new barn. They still used it some until Will’s twins got hurt in the loft. Fixing it up to modern standards wasn’t worth the cost, easier to build a new stable for the horses, so they just let the old one go to ruin.”
“Can you think of anything else?”
“The original farmhouse was out near there too, but that burned in the 40s. They rebuilt closer to the new facility and the cows.”
“A fire? Was anyone hurt?”
“They all escaped. The youngest kid, Evie, said she heard footsteps and a man laughing. It scared her, she woke the household when she saw the smoke. I remember Elmer said it was the darndest thing. Something blocked the door, he had to muscle it open to get them all out. It was an odd story.”
“And then they rebuilt away from the haunted barn?”
“That’s right. More convenient to the milking barn, worked out for the best. I remember Robert saying he slept better at the new house, no strange noises waking him at night. All of them looked less tired after the move. Little Evie smiled more even. She’d been a fussy child, but that stopped after the fire. Like night and day.”
“Strange.”
“It was. Anyway, in the 90s Lara convinced Will to install a new state-of-the-art automated milking system. They built the new facility around that installation. Don’t think they’ve kept up maintenance on the old place since.”
“Do you remember anything else about Frank? Were there any incidents in the building prior to his death?”
“Nothing that I can recall. Mind, I was a kid when it happened, I didn’t hear everything. Frank, though, he was a good man. A good friend to my father, a good husband and father to his family. But Dad said he used to get these black moods.
“His death was a real shame, shocked the community. But not Dad, he said Frank used to get maudlin in his cups. Before he died, he asked my father to watch out for the girls if anything happened to him. Afterward, Dad figured Frank’d already decided when he asked.”
“Sounds like it was rough on him.”
The old man shrugged, “That’s life, now, if that’s all your questions, boys, I’ve got to get the old rust bucket running again.”
TWENTY-ONE
Dan
Our second interview of the day was less useful than the first. Mr. Smith tried to answer our questions, but he either remembered nothing useful or it happened before his time. Still, after chatting with the retired farmhands, we had new avenues to pursue.
We had confirmation that Frank Higgs died in his barn in 1932, despairing of his farm’s prospects. So after the interviews we hit the town archives for more research.
Chad found old articles online about the dairy industry in the 1930s. It didn’t paint a pretty picture. After oversupply issues caused dairy prices to drop in the late 20s, they never made a full recovery until the late 30s, years after Higgs’ death.
I could understand Frank’s despair at seeing everything he’d worked for falling to ruin around him. Higgs’ obituary hadn’t told us much, too short on details. But the names of his surviving family gave us more leads.
Looking them up returned more dead ends though. All three of his daughters were deceased. They had children local to the area, but I wasn’t sure they would know anything.
Chad volunteered to look into getting in touch with them and track down Evie Goodman, the only still living member of the family old enough to remember Frank. He slipped outside to make some calls. I immersed myself in records research until he returned.
What we’d already learned looked grim. Frank Higgs killed himself in the loft of the haunted barn—and then the strange incidents started.
Spooked animals, odd noises, the fire in the original farmhouse. Accidents. This situation had all the hallmarks of a true haunting.
The only question in my mind was whether it would be safe to continue our investigation. Higgs had already proven dangerous and powerful. His ability to move heavy doors was nothing to sneeze at in a spirit. It proved he was strong enough to interact with the physical world.
So far a few broken bones were the worst of Higgs’ bad behavior, if the stories were true, but would it be too risky to make a further attempt at communication with the ghost? My natural inclination was to encourage the lingering spirit to move along as best I could.
What would Higgs want though? The farm was doing well now. His great-niece and nephew owned the operation. It had remained in the family. Was there more to the story?
Only the dead man could say. Or his relatives. They hadn’t connected the spirit haunting the barn to their deceased relative yet though. Odd that.
“What did you find,” based on his expression, Chad didn’t have happy news.
“Nate’s son is a resident of a local nursing home, Alzheimers. The nurse I spoke to said he isn’t lucid most of the time and won’t see visitors who aren’t family. Evie I can’t seem to find. Maybe Lara can shed some light on where her great-aunt ended up. Probably she isn’t a Goodman anymore and I doubt Evie is her full given name since I can’t find a thing about her. Beyond a birth record for an Evelyn Goodman who would be the right age. Not much else.”
“And Frank’s grandkids?”
“Two of the daughters stayed local. The third, Lettie, married a politician. They moved to Burlington. I got several hits on her when I searched the database. Her children aren’t local. I called around to the Goodman descendants I found listed in the phonebook, but none of them seemed to know much about the old barn or Frank.. I’ll keep digging.”
“Do you recall Lara or Leon mentioning Frank at all?”
Chad looked up from the archive records he was perusing. “No.”
“Don’t you find that odd?”
“You would think if they bought into the haunting stories, they would have connected their great-great-uncle’s death to the events, yeah.”
“Right. So, I’m thinking Lara should be our next visit. I don’t know how much more useful information we’ll find here.”
“Sounds good,” Chad stretched, “I guess it makes sense that people would associate the death with the b
ad luck on the farm after and eventually snowballed into the idea the place is haunted. Too bad Frank’s name got lost in the retelling.”
“We’ll bring that up with Lara too then. It’s getting late, let’s wrap up here before they kick us out, and get back to the farm before we miss dinner.”
TWENTY-TWO
Chad
We returned to Goodman Dairy around six. Lara and Jane had left a note taped to the unlocked farmhouse door. They had saved us plates of leftovers to reheat, wrapped up in their fridge.
They were already out at the barn to do the evening chores. We ate a quick and quiet meal in the empty farmhouse. After we ate, we took care of our plates and returned to the van.
Daniel directed me to park near the old barn for the night. On the drive, he’d mentioned staking out the place with the new infrared camera. So I ended the evening digging through his piles of gear in the fading light of dusk to find a tripod with the correct mount for the new GhostCam.
It would be a challenge to set up everything before we lost the daylight. I didn’t mind working into the night with Daniel though. The sky at sunset was a sight to behold so far from light pollution.
The chirping of insects serenading us was peaceful. Soon, dark would leave Daniel and I alone with nothing but the stars and the waning moon above to bear witness to our presence.
I saw how this lifestyle appealed to Daniel. It was like his life was one big exciting camping trip. The cramped quarters weren’t bad, other than the lack of privacy. Jerking off with the object of my fantasies inches away was too unnerving to contemplate. But otherwise? I had no regrets.
I found the right attachment to connect the GhostCam to a stand in a jumble of camera accessories Daniel kept in a storage bin in the back. The plan was to set it up in the entrance of the film set. I found it less unnerving to think of it as a set than as a haunting when it was dark and the lengthening evening shadows seemed almost alive.
Despite the foreboding the barn engendered in me up close, I thought this would otherwise be a very nice spot to spend a peaceful evening. With no other agenda than to admire the vast expanse of country sky with a special someone at my side.
Someone, not Daniel, but perhaps very like him, who would be content to enjoy the view and my company. It was utter nonsense. I refused to start something with my boss.
Workplace romances were a bad enough idea when work was a nine-to-five grind in an anonymous office. It would take downright catastrophic levels of stupidity to date my boss when we lived and worked in a six by twelve space.
No way that could end well. Best to banish the thought right now. Better to keep working with my semi-celebrity crush than to risk this shot at a job I was getting into. Even if it was just so much high-tech table-rapping, Daniel made it fun.
“You got the camera ready?”
“Yeah, sorry about that, woolgathering.”
“Great, once you set it up by the doorway it will capture the main aisle and the ladder to the loft. That’s where we sensed the presence before. I’ll log in and stream the video to my phone. I love the new features with version 3 already. It’s so cool that we can monitor the footage from Vanessa live.”
“Are we using the EM meter too?”
“Not yet. But we’ll have it ready to roll if we detect any spirit activity. Sometimes they’re more active at night.”
“Okay, sounds good. I’ll get everything set up, you take it easy.”
“I’d argue with you, but to tell the truth, I appreciate you doing the legwork. My leg has been sore since our mad dash to safety yesterday.”
“Should we get it checked out?” I asked, alarmed at the possibility he’d done real damage.
The last thing Daniel needed was another medical issue. Like an infection in his broken leg. Or to have screwed up his healing.
At least we’d filed the paperwork to get him switched to the higher premium policy for the interim. It would cover him until open enrollment made it possible to change companies.
That Daniel’s compensation package offered me coverage too was an unexpected boon. If I stuck around for three months, he would purchase a plan for me. It meant having coverage for my T. Not that testosterone was the most expensive medication to need, all things considered.
At Chorus I’d seen some eye-popping drug prices. Still, insurance meant not paying for the bulk of the cost out of pocket. And I wouldn’t have to worry about the bill attached to my monitoring blood work while we were traipsing around the country.
“No. It’s nothing like the warning signs on that discharge paperwork you have memorized, just a tad sore from overdoing it. I’ll rest it as much as possible for a few days and I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
“I hope so, hate to see you in pain. You got painkillers from the hospital right?”
“Yeah, I took some Advil. It helps, no worries, if it’s still bad in a couple days, we can find a walk-in care place. I doubt it will come to that.”
The walk from the van to the barn had me jumping at shadows. We’d only parked about a dozen yards from the door, but it seemed much further with the wind rustling the tall grass and weeds around me.
I imagined they sounded like low whispering voices. The sounds of the barn settling transformed into creaking moans. And I could have sworn I heard something moving within. Likely squirrels, based on what Stephanie and Ben had said about the place when they helped us set up to film the other day.
Still, I wasn’t keen on coming face to face with anything living in the creepy husk of a barn.
I was glad Daniel didn’t want me to go inside to film. Even standing in the doorway raised goosebumps on my arms. I made fast work of attaching the IR camera to the tripod and setting it to surveillance mode.
It took a few moments to get the shot framed just so, and then I made sure the camera was turned on and ready to transmit to Daniel’s phone app.
My task complete, I didn’t linger outside. Something about that old barn gave me the creeps. It was probably just the chilly breeze making my skin prickle, but I still walked a little faster than necessary to get back to the safety of the van.
It was silly. Ghosts didn’t exist, no matter how sure Daniel seemed. He was playing a role or believed because he needed the comfort of certainty about the afterlife. No judgment from me, I understood the appeal of knowing. But if they were real, surely Mom would have stuck around to check in on us?
At the least, she would have visited with her grandkids. Zoe had been born after her death, wouldn’t she want to meet her? Or maybe check in to make sure I was okay once I started college. If any part of my mother still lingered, she would have said something or given me some sign.
So, no—ghosts weren’t real. I just couldn’t shake the sense that something malevolent was watching me from the shadows.
TWENTY-THREE
Dan
Chad seemed shaken after setting up the IR camera to record the barn. I gave him some time to hide his nerves as I fiddled with the app on my phone that let me stream the video feed from the GhostCam.
We could observe any spirit activity from the comfort of Vannessa’s well-lit interior. I loved that feature already.
I sat in the passenger seat, swiveled around to face the back. Chad helped me prop my broken leg up on the toilet and took a seat on a chair he dragged closer to me.
“So, is it working?”
“Sure, want a peek?” I turned the screen to face him.
The interior of the barn appeared cast in shades of greenish gray. Nothing spectral happening yet, but I didn’t expect much so early in the evening.
“So, it picks up heat signatures, right?”
“Thermal energy. It can detect cold spots too, that’s what we’re looking for tonight. The cooler shades, so greens and blues. If you put your hand in front of the display, it would show in oranges, yellows and red tones.
“My old one couldn’t do streaming so this is fortuitous timing with my leg. But we covered that this morni
ng.”
“Yeah, I remember. Just making sure I had the details straight. Next time you should quiz me,” Chad winked at me.
“Next time I will,” I smiled back. I hoped to have lots of next times with him. He was probably the most competent assistant I’d ever hired. And he was a willing pupil, even if he was a skeptic.
“I’ll set up an alert for if we catch anything moving around overnight. Care to stay up with me a while longer to monitor the feed? I’d love to grab more readings if the ghost makes and appearance tonight. We can hang out and chill while we wait.”
“Yeah? I’m game.”
“Nice. So, on that note, let’s play a game.”
“A game?”
“Yeah, getting to know you stuff. Two truths and a lie, ever played?”
Chad nodded, “I have. I can go first. I once got chased by a rabid raccoon, I was valedictorian of my highschool class, and I’m a stickler for following the rules.”
I laughed, “I’ll guess you don’t follow the rules, is that a jab at me assuming you were a straightlaced father of two before we met in person?”
“You got me. I bent the rules all the time, it sucks being the person telling someone we won’t cover their medical procedure, you know? So I did my best to push claims through, even if I had to stretch the limits of the rules to do it.”
“That’s why they let you go, huh?”
“Yep, that’s the long and short of it. I got caught bending the rules one too many times.”
“I was someone you did that for, huh?”
“You were. Don’t go apologizing about it though, I’m a grown man. I made the choice to go to bat for our clients knowing the consequences. I’d do the same again.”
“Few people would.”
Chad shrugged, “I understand what it’s like to be in desperate medical need and learn my policy denied me coverage or it isn’t an important enough priority.”
“Because of your transition?”
“That too.”
“What else? Or is that prying? You don’t have to tell me if it’s too personal. You don’t owe me answers just because I’m your boss, or anything.”
