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God Damn PC's! Blue screens! Viruses! Hackers! Phishers! And now this!!! ECTOBYTES by
Michael
Merriam Charles
Johnston downloaded the ghost by accident. When
the smoky image of the woman had appeared on the webcam feed from the abandoned
hospital's emergency room, Charles had excitedly placed his cursor over the
image. His brain barely registered the
unfamiliar file extension of ".ght" before he clicked to save
it. When he browsed to the file and
placed the pointer over it, he had hesitated for a moment before clicking to
open it. When the image of the empty
room appeared after nearly a minute of his laptop hard drive grinding away, he
sighed in disappointment. The refresh
from the website must have triggered before he could save the image. Charles shook his head. Too bad, he thought, it had looked
like a great shot. He stood and,
deciding to walk down to the corner convenience shop, pushed the button to turn
off the monitor on the laptop's docking station. The
hazy woman from the image in the hospital filled the screen. Charles
scrambled away from the monitor and tripped over his old office chair. He sat up and watched as the woman seemed to
travel away from him, deeper into the monitor. Frightened,
he reached out toward the monitor to turn it back on. As his finger neared the switch, the image
rushed forward. Charles jabbed at the
button. The monitor obediently flared to
life and the visage of the smoky woman vanished. Charles stood and righted his chair. By the time he was finished, he had almost
convinced himself it had been his imagination. Almost. Charles
sat in his desk chair. He crossed his
arms and frowned. It was silly to be
afraid of his computer. He had consumed
a lot of caffeine and sugar. Maybe it
was a trick of his over-stimulated mind. He
pushed the button to turn off the monitor before he allowed himself to think
too much about it. The
woman's angry, translucent face glared at him.
The apparition seemed more solid, less like the haziness of breath on a
cold winter morning and more like steam coming off a heating vent in that same
winter chill. Except this steam was
shaped like a woman, with features distinct enough that Charles could pick out
the style and era of her clothing, guessing it to be something from the 1950s
or the early '60s. Charles
turned the monitor back on and brought up his desktop display. He shut the computer down and leaned back in
his chair, trying to decide what to do.
He should call Cindy, but he could hear the conversation in his
head: "Yeah, Cindy, it's
Chuck. I seemed to have downloaded a
ghost onto my hard drive. Hello? Hello?" It
did not matter how ludicrous he might sound, he needed to tell Cindy. Sighing, Charles reached for his cell phone. # "I
don't understand how he can expect me to just stop!" Cindy McNair paced around Charles' small
living room. "So
what brought on the latest dispute?" Charles asked cautiously. He did not want to get himself caught between
Cindy and Greg, Cindy's on-again, off-again and currently live-in boyfriend, while
they were fighting. "I
bought a night vision camera," Cindy said. "Okay. And?" Charles prompted, settling back on
his sofa. "And
I kind of forgot to discuss it with him.
Apparently he was planning on buying a high-definition television with
the money." Charles
made a clucking sound. "So how much
damage?" Cindy
sat down on the sofa beside Charles and ran a nervous hand through her brown
hair. "He's gone to stay with his
brother for a few days. He said I should
use this time to 'sort out my priorities' and to consider where our
relationship is going." "Ouch." Charles made an exaggerated wince of pain. "I
messed up again, didn’t I?" "I'm
thinking so." "Shit. What am I going do?" Charles
reached out and patted Cindy on the knee.
"First, you're going to let him cool down a bit. Then you're going to allow him time to think
about what he's missing. Give him a few
weeks, then when he comes back, do something extra nice for him." Cindy
narrowed her eyes at Charles.
"Extra nice? Like
what?" Charles
kept his expression neutral and shrugged.
"I'm sure you can think of something. In the meantime, I'd like to discuss my
little problem." Cindy
scowled at him again. "'Me, me,
me.' Okay, what's the problem,
Chuck?" "I
have a little thing with my computer." "Chuck,
you're the tech guy." Charles nodded. "Yes, I am. What I need is a paranormal expert." "For
your computer?" "Yeah,
well," he shrugged. "Just
watch." Charles
walked over to his computer, Cindy following behind him. He reached out and pressed the power button
on the monitor. The screen went dark. "I
don't see any--" Cindy started to say. The
apparition materialized on the screen, looking out at them. It seemed more substantial today, still
translucent, but less smoky. "Shit!"
Cindy whispered. She leaned close to the
monitor and reached out to it. The ghost
watched her carefully, then stepped backward and raised a hand. Cindy touched the screen at the same time the
ghost reached out. There was a static
discharge and Cindy jumped back, clutching her hand. "Damn,
Chuck." "I
know." Cindy
sat down at the monitor and watched the apparition watch her. "You'd better start at the
beginning." Charles
spent the next five minutes explaining to Cindy exactly how he had managed to
download a ghost onto his hard drive.
Once he finished his tale, he sat with his hands folded in his lap. "So,
what do I do about it?" he asked. Cindy
blinked and looked away from the apparition.
"I honestly don't know what to tell you. I've never encountered a haunted computer
before. I wonder if there's any way to
communicate with her." "Like
what? I open up a blank document and
type a question?" Cindy shrugged. Charles
turned the monitor on and did as Cindy suggested, typing out: "Who are
you?" in the document. Nothing
happened in return. "What
about trying it at the c-prompt?" Cindy asked. "What?
Is this 1990?" "Just
do it." Charles
shrugged and tried it. Again, no
response. "Well,
it was worth a shot," Cindy whispered. Charles
turned the monitor off, allowing the image of the woman to appear. Cindy
stared at the ghost on the screen, cocking her head to one side and
frowning. "She looks
familiar." Cindy looked to
Charles. "I think I've seen her
before." Charles
opened his mouth to reply, and then closed it. "What?"
Cindy asked. Charles
pointed at the monitor. The
ghost of the woman was gone. In her
place, floating milky-white on the screen where the words "Come to
me." Cindy
turned and looked at him. "Are you
up for a road trip?" "You
want to go out to the site?" "Yeah,
and I want to talk to mom about something." "Greg?" Cindy
smiled up at him. "That too." # Charles
kept his eyes on the highway, keeping watch for the occasional errant cow or
one of the local gravel trucks that would periodically come careening along,
threatening to flatten anything between it and the next load. In the passenger seat, Cindy kept up a
running monologue of the latest in ghost hunting technologies, photos, videos,
and her opinion on various pieces of evidence.
Periodically she would ask about the cameras, recorders and other pieces
of technology they had left in the building they were currently researching. They
had chosen the location because Cindy once lived in the sleepy little town
where the old hospital was located. All
the local kids knew the tales of ghosts haunting the old building, which had
closed forty years ago after a fire broke out on the third floor of the then
fifty-year-old structure, killing four people.
One of those four people was a distant relative of Cindy's, which made
it personal. Then there was Cindy's own experiences
in the building. She swore that on one
eventful night she and several of her high school friends had entered the
building only to flee after having several pieces of debris, including the
remains of a sink, rise up from the floor and fly at them. Cindy
had later procured permission to monitor the building. The
small town had sealed the place up but not demolished it, preferring to keep
their haunted structure intact for the occasional curious ghost hunters or the
odd tourists who might have heard about the hospital's reputation. When Cindy approached the mayor and explained
that she wanted to monitor the building for paranormal activity twenty-four
hours a day, and that the entire world would be able to watch along over the
internet, the elderly gentleman was at first dubious. Cindy pointed out that it might attract
tourist who would sleep in the little town's two motels, eat at the four
restaurants, and generally spend their money in its stores. The Mayor relented and granted them
permission to set up their cameras. The
fact that Cindy was a hometown girl helped seal the deal. She
traded in on her local-girl standing again in order to convince a construction
company to run temporary electricity to the site to power the webcams and other
gear. Once
a month, Cindy and Greg drove down from the city to do general maintenance on
the gear. It gave Cindy a good excuse to
visit her family. On those occasions
when Cindy and Greg's relationship was not doing well, Charles got invited
along for the ride instead of Greg.
Charles was grateful that this did not happen often. "She
won't bite, you know," Cindy said, startling Charles out of his thoughts. "I'm
sorry?" Charles turned the car off
the highway and down one of the outlying streets that appeared before the
town's center. "Teresa. She--" "She's
over-eager is what she is," Charles said.
Cindy's
younger sister practically threw herself at Charles every time he came to
visit. Charles thought her attractive
enough, but he refused to get involved with her. He suspected that she only saw him as her
ticket out of the sleepy little town. "I’ll
need to call Bryson," said Cindy, apparently deciding to change the
subject. "I want to make sure he
knows we're going out to the hospital tonight.
I wouldn't want to get arrested by accident." Charles
guided the car into the driveway leading to Cindy's childhood home. "Good idea." "I
know you don't usually do field work, but I'm sure you'll be fine for one
night." Charles
parked the car in front of the garage door.
"Who else is coming with us?" "Just
Teresa, for sure. I thought I might try
to talk Bryson into coming along." Charles
followed Cindy into the house, so she didn't see the frown on his face. He did not know that Teresa was involved in
Cindy's ghost-hunting hobby, and he was quite sure that the local police chief,
Eric Bryson, would never be remotely interested in joining them. Bryson found Cindy's passion for the
paranormal amusing at the best of times and annoying at others. Charles
followed Cindy through the kitchen door.
They were greeted by Cindy's mother. Roberta
McNair had buried two husbands in her fifty years. She had also raised two daughters. Now she worked for the county assessor's
office, answering questions over the phone and processing paperwork. "Welcome
home, honey," Cindy's mother
greeted her daughter warmly, hugging her close.
Roberta released Cindy and glanced up at Charles. "Charles, how are you?" "I'm
fine, Mrs. McNair." The
older woman nodded then turned back to her daughter. "I take it things with Greg are on the
rocks again?" Cindy
smiled at her mother. "I need to
talk to you about something.
Privately." Roberta
gave her daughter a serious look, and then glanced sharply at Charles. "Off with you then. Go have a cup of coffee at Stoney's. You can drive Teresa home after her
shift." "And
could you leave the laptop here?" Cindy asked. As
Charles backed his little car down the driveway, the thought occurred to him
that this was a set-up. Sighing
in resignation, Charles headed to the restaurant where Teresa McNair waited
tables. # Charles
finished his third cup of coffee and checked his watch. He idly played with his cell phone, noting
that the coverage was spotty at best, and the phone slipped in and out of roam
every couple of minutes. He
looked around the shabby little country restaurant. It was mostly deserted, the lunch rush having
ended two hours ago and the dinner rush still a good two hours away. The only other customers were four wrinkled
old men sitting at a table at the front of the restaurant near the coffee pots
and another elderly gentleman sitting alone at a table by the restrooms. When Charles would glance up, he would catch
the old gent staring balefully at him from under shaggy silver eyebrows. He was familiar to Charles: This man had once
entered the old hospital and tried to destroy the cameras. Charles had seen him over the live feed and
called the local police. Charles
looked up at Teresa, who was rolling silverware into napkins and chatting with
the other waitress, a middle-aged woman who clung to her fading beauty with the
best cosmetics she could afford. Charles
wondered if this was the fate Teresa was trying so hard to avoid. For a moment he felt some sympathy with her
plight. Teresa
glanced up and grinned at him, which made the other waitress look up as
well. The older woman gave Charles a
coolly professional once-over and turned back to Teresa with a smile. Apparently she approved of Teresa's choice of
men to pursue. Charles
scowled, which only made Teresa laugh lightly, the sound clear and delicate
across the room. Charles
turned back to the cold dregs at the bottom of his cup. He just wanted to pick up Cindy and get on
with the investigation. "Hey." He
looked up to find Teresa standing in front of the table, her apron in her hand
and her pale blue uniform blouse untucked. "Are
you off?" Charles asked, wanting to be sure. Teresa
smiled and nodded. "Yeah. Let's get out of here." Charles
stood, dropped a couple of bills on the table, and turned to followed Teresa
out the door. "You're
McNair's friend." Charles
turned and found the old man with the silver eyebrows standing next to him, as
if conjured from thin air. "I'm
Cindy's friend from college, yeah." "I've
seen you before, poking around the hospital." "We're
conducting an investigation." Charles
thought he saw the old man pale.
"There are things better left in the past," the man said. Charles
cocked his head in confusion.
"We're looking for the supposed ghosts." The
man straightened his shoulders and leaned dangerously close to Charles, so
close Charles could smell the coffee on his breath. "You're playing with the Devil's
work. You and that McNair girl are
stirring up forces you've no notion how to handle. Satanic forces, things that will rip your
soul--" "That's
nice Pastor Emerson, but we really need to be going," Teresa interrupted. The
old man turned his eyes on Teresa, giving her a look of near loathing. "You'd do well to stay shut of this man,
Teresa McNair. He has the stench of sin
and evil about him." Teresa
gave the old man a grave look.
"Actually, I think it's Old Spice." Teresa smiled and pulled Charles out the door
before the old man could answer. They
were silent until Charles pulled out of the restaurant's parking lot and turned
the nose of the car back toward the McNair's home. "Who
the hell was that?" Charles asked. "Reverend
William Jefferson Emerson, recently retired pastor of the First Baptist
Church. He's a fire and brimstone type." "I
see," Charles replied, still a bit shaken from the encounter. "You know, I caught him once in the
hospital trying to trash the cameras." "Yeah,
Cindy told me. Look, he's a nut-job
supreme, is all." Charles
nodded, agreeing with her assessment. He
decided to change the subject. "So
you walk to work?" "Yeah. It saves me a little bit of money on
gas." "I'd
think after working on your feet all day, the last thing you'd want to do is
walk home." Teresa
laughed and touched his knee. "It
is. But I'm trying to save up enough
money to move to Lawton, or Weatherford, or even the city, and maybe go back to
school." Charles
nodded. "Good for you." "I'm
just tired of coming home smelling like old grease and stale coffee every day,
you know?" Charles
could not stop the smile from spreading across his face. The fact was, she did have the aromas of the
restaurant clinging to her, and it was not entirely pleasant. "I
can understand," Charles said, trying hard to hold back a laugh. Teresa
glared at him in mock indignation.
"What? You don't find the
smell of greasy eggs and bacon drop-dead sexy?" "No,
not really." Silence
fell over them again as Charles turned onto the street Teresa and her mother
lived on. He noticed out of the corner
of his eye that Teresa seemed to be fidgeting in her seat. "What?"
Charles asked. "I
just--I just want to apologize." Charles
blinked in surprise. "For
what?" "For
being an idiot whenever you're around. I
had a talk with Cindy last week, and she pointed out that whenever you come
home with her, I act all--" Teresa paused and licked her lips. "Flirty?"
Charles supplied, turning up the driveway. "More
like slutty," Teresa replied.
"Chuck, I want to be honest with you: Cindy talks about what a
great guy you are all the time and--well--I'm more than a little interested in
you. The problem is, I don't really know
you that well, and so I've been trying to get you to notice me the only way I
know how." Charles
parked the car and cut the engine.
"Look, Teresa, you seem nice enough, but up until this moment, you
haven't given me any reason to think of you as anything other than Cindy's
oversexed little sister who sees me as a way out of Caddo County. Understand?" Teresa
nodded and bit her lip, her eyes going moist. Charles
blew out a long breath. "Now, I
take it from this conversation that's not who you really are. It sounds like you've got dreams and plans
for your life beyond trapping some poor schmuck into marrying you. Am I right?" Teresa
nodded again. Charles could not tell if
she was going to cry or start yelling at him.
He swallowed and plunged ahead. "So
what I'm trying to say to you is: If you really want to be happy, and you
really want a decent guy to notice you, you need to be yourself. The only guys who are going to go for what
you've been projecting to me are the wrong ones." Charles
watched as Teresa's lips thinned into a slight frown and her forehead crinkled
up in thought. She gave a quiet sniff
and nodded a third time before looking up at him. "Thanks
for being honest," she said. "Yeah,
well, let's go inside and see what your crazy sister has planned for tonight's
little adventure." "Cool." Teresa suddenly stuck out her hand. "Hi.
I'm Teresa McNair, Cindy's younger sister." Charles
smiled and took her hand. "I'm
Charles Johnson, Cindy's best friend from college and the guy who helps make
her passion for ghost hunting easier by handling all of her tech gear. It's a pleasure to meet you." They
shook hands, then both laughed aloud.
They continued to laugh as they exited the car and walked in through the
kitchen door. Cindy
looked up from where she sat at the kitchen table, a small pile of old
photographs scattered in front of her.
She raised a bemused eyebrow at them. "What's
so funny?" Cindy asked. Teresa
walked past her sister and smiled at Charles over her shoulder. "You tell her. I need to wash off the food stink." Charles
smiled down at his best friend as she looked at him, the question in her eyes
obvious. "We've...reached
an understanding, I guess. We both
decided to start from scratch and get to know each other for real." Cindy
smiled. "Good! She's a good person, Chuck." Charles
nodded. "We'll see what
happens. So what have you been up to for
the last hour and a half?" Cindy
picked up one of the photos and handed it over to him. "Does
the woman in the picture look familiar?" Charles
scrutinized the fading photo.
"That's our ghost." He
looked back to Cindy. "Who is she?" "My
great-aunt. You know, the one who died
in the fire. Our ghost is my Great-Aunt
Martha." # Charles
reached out and adjusted the contrast on the screen, bringing the four images
on the monitor into clearer focus. "That
looks good, ladies," he said into the two-way radio. "Copy,"
Cindy's voice crackled through the radio's speaker. "How much longer until dark?" "About
a half an hour," Charles told her.
He watched as Cindy and Teresa entered the picture from camera three on
their way back to the group's makeshift command center. He saw Cindy raise her radio to her mouth. "Why
don't we cut the power and save some fuel." "Got
it," Charles answered. He
powered down the older laptop they used to monitor the cameras and turned off
the digital video recorder. His personal
laptop, the one with the strange .ght file of the ghost, was hooked up to a
regular monitor and turned off. Once the
electronics were powered down, he dashed outside and killed the portable
generator. The old hospital, damaged and
abandoned as it was, boasted no electricity of its own. The power provided by the construction
company was just enough to keep their normal investigative gear running. For nights like this one, where they ran five
extra cameras and a brace of digital recording gear, the portable generator
supplied the power. Charles
returned to the command center. It was a
simple affair, consisting of all of their electronics on two folding tables
they had borrowed--along with the generator sitting outside--from Roberta
McNair's garage. They had set up station
near the first floor information desk.
Cindy and Teresa were waiting for him. Cindy
looked up at his approach. "Tell me
we're ready." "It's
all go, assuming everything powers back on properly." Teresa
glanced between them. "How soon
should we start?" Cindy
pulled a note pad from her jeans pocket.
"I'd say an hour after sundown.
We can rotate teams, each of us taking a turn manning the equipment
while the other two conduct the investigation." Cindy glanced up. "I'm thinking about five to seven
hours." Teresa
blinked in surprise, but Charles just nodded.
He knew that sometimes Cindy kept her teams working from sundown to
sunrise, determined to maximize every bit of investigation time. It
made Charles wonder exactly why it seemed that hauntings typically happened
after sundown. "Do
we want to go get some coffee or something to get us through the
night?" Teresa asked. Charles
shrugged. "I'll stay here with the
gear if you two want--" Headlights
approaching the hospital, reflecting through the window, made them all
turn. Charles expected it to be Chief
Bryson, come to check on them, but the vehicle had no obvious lights on
top. Charles thought he recognized the
car, but it was dark and he was unsure. "I
hope that's not a carload of kids looking to party," Teresa whispered. "Or
looking for trouble," Charles added. Chief
Bryson had warned them that normal human activity around the old hospital had
increased lately, something Charles knew from watching the camera feeds. Bryson had heard that some of the high school
boys planned to try and scare Cindy and whoever she brought with her the next
time they were on site. "No,
it's Greg," Cindy said with a resigned expression. Greg
pulled up next to Cindy's car, cut his engine, turned off his lights, and
unfolded his long frame from the interior of his four-door and came inside the
building. "Hey,"
he said, running a hand through his curly brown hair. "You're mom said you'd come up for the
night." Charles
watched Cindy bite her lower lip as she approached her currently off-again
boyfriend. "We're doing an
overnight investigation. So what are you
doing here?" "I
just wanted to see you, tell you I'm sorry for walking out. I should have stayed so we can talk this
over. I've just never gotten this hobby
of yours, you know?" "It's
not just a hobby." Greg
smiled, all boyish and lopsided.
"I'm starting to get that.
I'm here to help." Cindy
gave him a disbelieving look. "Here
to help for real or here to help like the government?" Greg
laughed. "For real." "Fine,
let's head into town to pick up some coffee and other snacks for the
night. We can talk in the
car." Cindy turned to Charles and
Teresa. "Are you guys cool with
hanging out here for awhile?" Charles
glanced over at Teresa, who gave the gathering darkness a look of trepidation
before she agreed with a quick nod of her head. "We'll
hold the fort," Charles said.
"You two go have your talk." "Don’t
start without us!" Cindy called as she climbed into the car. Charles
watched the taillights of Greg's car turn at the end of the drive and vanished
into the night. He smiled at Teresa. "Well,
here we are." # "So?"
Charles asked. Cindy
and Greg had been gone for over an hour.
Charles and Teresa had begun to worry and Teresa decided to call her
sister. "They're
having 'a serious talk.' She said to go
ahead and power the equipment back on and get the recorders going. If she's not back in half an hour, it’s our call
what to do from there." Teresa
tucked the phone back into its holster on her belt and looked expectantly at
him. "I
see." Charles did not really see,
but he did not know what else to say.
Charles stepped outside to the portable generator with Teresa following
in his wake. He tugged on the pull cord
and the little machine rumbled to life, ready to supply independent power to
the extra gear they had set up for the night. Inside
the derelict building, Charles powered on the old laptop and DVR. He was pleasantly surprised to discover all
five cameras had turned back on and were sending video to the DVR. Charles
reached for the power button on his personal laptop, pausing to glance at
Teresa. "You
haven't seen her yet, have you?" Teresa
swallowed. "No, I haven't. Go
ahead." Charles
pushed the power button and the laptop obediently began to whirl to life. Charles left its monitor turned off. He knew it would only be a matter of a few
seconds. To
her credit, Teresa gave only a tiny gasp when the translucent image of her
great-aunt appeared on the monitor. She
carefully picked up the faded color photo of the woman and held it next to the
screen. "That's--it's
too freaky." Charles
gave her a sympathetic smile. "The
first time I saw her, I tipped over my chair trying to get away. It was all I could do not to scream like a
little girl." He
watched Teresa study the image in obvious fascination. His estimation of Teresa had risen over the
day, and her calm demeanor in the face of the supernatural impressed him even
more. "Why
hasn't Cindy gone to the TV stations or the newspapers with this?" Charles
shrugged. "I don't know. I suspect because she wants to solve whatever
puzzle this is, and its family, so she wants more evidence first." Teresa
looked him square in the eyes. "Why
didn’t you go to the media?" "I
don't know that either, really. It never
occurred to me. My first thought was to
call your sister. This is her area of
expertise. As
the last word left his mouth, the hard drive on his laptop began to grind. Both Charles and Teresa turned back to the
screen. The
spirit of Teresa's Great-Aunt Martha seemed to be looking out of the monitor at
her surroundings. There was a glint of
recognition in her pale eyes. Before
either of them realized what was about to happen, the hard drive screamed like
an injured animal and the ghost vanished from the screen. "What
the hell?" Charles leaned across
Teresa, reaching for the keyboard. "Chuck!" Charles
looked to where Teresa was pointing. On
the screen of the other laptop, coming from the feed on camera two, was the
ghostly image of the woman moving steadily down the corridor toward the
second–floor operating room. "Is
there a camera in there?" Teresa asked. "Yeah,
camera four." Charles moved to
switch to full screen mode for camera four. "Come
to me." The
voice seemed little more than a whisper, yet it filled up the empty space of
the hospital, echoing softly down the deserted halls. "I
should call Cindy!" Teresa reached
for her phone. "It's dead." Charles
kept his eyes trained on the screen.
"It happens sometimes in situations like this. Batteries just seem to drain." "Come
to me." The
voice was louder, more insistent. The
hairs along Charles' arms rose up in alarm, and he felt an electrical build up. The bank of electronics flashed and died. Charles
stared at the dark, silent equipment for an instant and came to a
decision. He grabbed one of the
hand-held video recorders and a flashlight.
Both seemed to be working. "What
are you doing?" Teresa's voice held
the barest hint of panic. "She
wants us to come to her. I'm going to
give her what she wants." Charles
hefted the recorder. "I have to
try." "You're
not leaving me here alone." Teresa
picked up another flashlight and took a firm hold onto Charles' elbow. Flush
with excitement and terror, the two struck out into the interior of the old
hospital in search of a ghost who desired their attention. Charles
felt the pressure of Teresa's grip increase as they raced up the creaky stairs
and started down the dark corridor toward the operating room. Charles kept the hand-held video camera
pointed in front of him, trying to capture a steady image while moving at a
quick jaunt. The
image streaked across the camera screen at the same time Teresa let out a
shrill scream. Charles looked up from
the camera and aimed his flashlight in the direction he had seen the dark form
run. There was nothing at the far end of
the hallway. "It
looked like it dived into Radiology." He turned toward Teresa. "Should we follow or head into the
Operating Room?" "I
don't suppose go home is an option?" Charles
smiled at her. "If you want
to." For
an instant Teresa looked as if she was going to tell him that was exactly what
she wanted to do, then she gave him a weak smile. "I think we should chase the
ghost." Charles
offered her his arm, and they turned toward their destination. Teresa reached out and pushed open the door. They
found themselves in a gutted room, electrical fixtures stripped and all the
equipment and furnishings removed. "Do
you see anything?" Teresa asked. "No,"
Charles said, raising the camera. He
turned slowly around the room, trying to film every part of it. "I know she came in here." Teresa
walked cautiously around the room, shining her light into every corner. "Well, she's not here now." Charles
slowly brought Teresa into the frame.
She stood only a few feet away, the flashlight pointed toward the floor,
her arms wrapped around herself. She
gave a shiver. Charles brought the
camera into sharp focus as mist rose behind her. Charles
kept his voice calm and even.
"Teresa, I want you to hold very still. Just stand right there." "Chuck?" Charles
stepped toward her, keeping the camera level. "Chuck,
what's going on?" "I
think your aunt is about to manifest right behind you. I'm coming to you; just stay still." Teresa's
eyes widened at Charles' words. Charles
expected her to bolt toward him, but instead she turned and looked over her
shoulder. A
face was forming in the mist, taking on shape and definition. Teresa turned fully to face it, taking two
steps backward toward Charles. "Teresa. Teresa, I think you should step away,"
Charles said. "Yeah." Teresa
took another step backward. Charles
dropped his own flashlight and reached out to take her by the arm, all the
while keeping the slowly manifesting spirit in his viewfinder. The
door behind them opened with a bang that echoed off the walls of the empty
room. Startled, Charles spun around. Pastor
Emerson stood in the doorway, clutching his chest, his white hair standing on
end. In his hand was a mason jar
half-full of liquid. The smell of
gasoline and smoke clung to him. "What
the hell are you--" Charles moved the camera way from his face. The
old man did not seem to notice him.
Instead he focused all of his attention over Charles' shoulder, looking
toward Teresa. "Hello,
William." The
voice behind Charles was Teresa's, but also something more. There was a hollow, breathy quality. Charles looked over his shoulder. Teresa
stood stiff and straight, enclosed in a white nimbus of floating, wavering
mist. Her eyes were unblinking, washed
out, and focused on Pastor Emerson. She
smiled at the old man, an unpleasant sight that made Charles shiver. "Teresa? Teresa are you okay?" Teresa
looked at Charles. The eyes changed,
took on Teresa's clear, dark blue hue for a moment. "Chuck, I think she's--" The eyes lost their color and Teresa, or at
least Teresa's body, turned back toward Emerson. "It's
so nice of you to come, William." The
old man stepped forward. "Leave the
girl's body and go back to Satan's den where you belong!" Teresa
stepped toward the old man. "Why,
William, a girl could think you weren't happy to see her." She took another step toward the preacher and
smiled. "Don't you like this body,
William? The face might be different,
but the rest is almost identical to my old one, and you seemed to like it well
enough." "Leave
her! In the name of the Father, I
command you." Charles
stepped toward Teresa.
"Teresa! Teresa you've got
to force her out." Anguished
eyes turned toward Charles. "I
can't!" Teresa's
body stiffened again, and then turned back to the Pastor. She moved forward, suddenly seeming more like
a large cat stalking her prey than a ghost inhabiting a human body. "You
lost your right to command anything in the name of your deity a long time ago,
William." Charles
looked to the old preacher. "What's
going on here?" "The
past, boy. The past." Teresa-as-Martha
laughed, a brittle sound in the empty room.
"Tell the truth, lover. Tell
the boy how you seduced me, impregnated me, took me to have the child removed,
and when I got sick and came here a few days later, you strangled me and set
fire to an entire hospital to cover up your sins." The
old man stood stilled, pale and gasping.
"I know what I did." Charles
turned toward the preacher. The smell of
burning wood become stronger.
"What?" "You
need to get out of here," the old man said to Charles as smoke started to
fill the room. "I'm
not leaving without Teresa."
Charles stepped toward Teresa.
"Look, I'm sorry about what happened to you, but you need to let
Teresa go. I've got everything on
this," Charles patted the camera.
"He'll pay for his crimes.
Now please, let Teresa go." Teresa
reached out a white enshrouded hand and touched Charles on the cheek. It was cold, and Charles felt himself having
a difficult time drawing a breath.
"I can see why she finds you attractive. You have an aura of kindness and honesty
surrounding you." She smiled at
him, hungry and fierce. "We can
make you very happy, Teresa and I." Charles
pulled away from her touch. "Get
out of Teresa!" Teresa's
lips frowned at him. "No. I've floated unattached to a body for too
long. I plan on keeping this one. The girl has never done anything except allow
her life to be wasted. I doubt she would
do any better in the future. No, Charles
Johnson, I have been given a second chance, and I plan to take it." "Then
it ends here," Pastor Emerson whispered.
He threw the jar on the floor, where the glass shattered. The stench of gasoline filled the room. "You must get her out of that body. Once the building is destroyed, Martha will
have no anchor in this world and will go on." "Wait!" Charles cried. He moved to stop the preacher, but was too
late. The man produced a lighter from
his pocket and struck it. There
was a loud whooshing as bright flames exploded across the floor and up the
minister's body, engulfing him. Charles
tried to ignore the stench of burning flesh and the high pitched screams of the
preacher. Teresa stepped around the
flaming body as it fell to the floor and started to crawl toward her. Charles stepped into her path. "Let
her go!" The
woman smiled and brought her flashlight up, smashing Charles across the face
with it. Charles
fell to the floor, tasting blood. It
took him only a moment to recover and follow Teresa. He saw her running toward the staircase leading
down. Coughing through the thick smoke,
Charles gave chase, closing the gap between them halfway down the
stairwell. She tried to strike him again
with the flashlight, but Charles was ready and blocked her swing. Teresa
snarled and clawed his face before he could gain control of her wrists. She pulled backward to get away and they both
over-balanced, tumbling down the stairs in a tangle of arms and legs. Charles
landed on top of Teresa. Her head hit
the floor with a dull thud. As he pushed
himself off of her limp body, the white translucent form of Martha disengaged
from Teresa with a frustrated shriek.
Charles watched the apparition move off, then checked Teresa. She was not breathing. He felt her neck. No pulse.
"No! No, damn it!" Charles
looked up to see a form in the smoke, waving at him. Beyond he saw flashing lights, red and blue,
through the thick haze. Charles
scooped up the limp body of Teresa McNair and dashed for the door. Behind him came the frantic scream of a
woman. The air around him chilled
despite the flames starting to spread from the upper floors downstairs through
the walls. Charles was six feet from the
door when he saw the ghostly image of Pastor Emerson in the doorway. He stopped. "Run,
fool boy! I'll hold her inside." The
door outside slammed shut as Charles started his headlong plunge through the
smoke. Wood and broken bits of old
furniture sprang up from the floor and swirled around him, striking his face,
arms, and legs. Charles pushed
onward. He turned at the last second and
hit the door with his back. It gave
under the pressure and he spilled into the cracked concrete outside the
building, Teresa's still body clutched in his arms. "Are
you all right?" a voice cried out. Charles
looked up into the eyes of Chief Bryson. "Teresa,
she's not breathing, her heart's not beating!" "Can
you walk?" Charles
stood, still clutching Teresa. Chief
Bryson led him away from the fire, toward his patrol cruiser. Charles knelt and lay Teresa on the ground,
Bryson rushed to the trunk of the cruiser and pulled out a portable
defibrillator. "What
the hell happened in their?" the chief asked, ripping Teresa's blouse. "Not
now!" "Okay,
stay calm," Bryson said as he cut away Teresa's bra with a pair of shears
from the emergency kit. He set the pads
on her skin as the machine's automated voice calmly talked him through the
process. The machine gave the okay to
administer a shock. Bryson pushed the
button. Teresa
jerked and gasped. A blue light blinked
on the defibrillator's panel as she opened her eyes and looked directly at
Charles. "Hey
you," she whispered, then closed her eyes and passed out. # Cindy
McNair sighed. "So you lost the
camera in the fire?" "Along
with everything else, yeah," Charles said. "At
least we all got out alive," Teresa said from her hospital bed. Cindy
nodded. "True." "It's
a good thing you sent Bryson to check on us," Teresa added. When
Cindy realized she had not heard from either Charles or Teresa during the two
hours it took her and Greg to end their relationship permanently, she tried to
call them. When neither one answered,
she panicked and called Chief Bryson to go check on them. The building was completely ablaze when he
arrived. By the time Cindy reached the
scene, the ambulance had arrived to take Teresa to the hospital in the Anadarko
for medical treatment. "So
what now?" Charles asked. "I mean we literally lost all of our
gear in that fire." Cindy
shrugged. "I'll buy you a new laptop,
Chuck.' Charles
waved her off. "Don't worry about
it. I'm just sorry we lost all the
evidence." Cindy
sighed. "I think I'm going to take
a break from ghost hunting." Teresa
and Charles shared a glance. They both
knew that Cindy was sincere, but they also knew that sincerity would not last
more than three months. Teresa
smiled at her sister. "Well, I'm
looking forward to moving in with you." "Sisters
inseparable," Cindy said. The
two young women had decided to throw in together. Teresa had a significant amount of money
saved, and Cindy needed a new place to live, since she would be moving out of
Greg's apartment. It seemed the most
reasonable solution. Cindy
sighed and stood. She reached out and
took her sister's hand. "I need to
drive back to the city and pack. Will
you be all right with just you and mom for a couple of days while I find us a
place?" Teresa
smiled and patted her sister's hand.
"Get out of here. All this
hovering is driving me nuts." Cindy
laughed and turned to Charles. "Are
you ready to head back?" Charles
looked up and gave his friend a smile.
"Yeah, whenever you are. I
was thinking, you can have my couch to sleep on until you find something." "Deal!" Charles
stood to leave, then turned back to Teresa. "So,
um, when you get moved up to the city, would you like to, maybe, get together
and do something?" Teresa
laughed, a lively, bright sound.
"I'd like that, Chuck. As
long as it doesn’t involve ghosts or hauntings, I'd like that very much." Charles
turned to Cindy. "Are you okay with
that idea?" "Chuck,
you say the silliest things," Cindy said, rolling her eyes. She turned to her sister. "When you get to the city we'll discuss
the care and feeding of Charles Johnston." "I'm
right here!" Charles said. Cindy
and Teresa laughed.