Ghost Program (16 page)

   “I’m glad you could come.  I sorry that it’s under such painful circumstances, but our outing shouldn’t take too long.”  She looked out the window at the three reporters.  “It’s too bad they’re still at your house, but I think they wanted you to give a statement.  Anything they could give to the newspaper.  I’ve said nothing to them, I wouldn’t violate your privacy that way.  Brent said he was coming back with your crutches...oh, there he is.”

   Running to the car, Brent opened the door to the backseat, throwing my crutches onto the floor and handing me my purse.  A pasty reporter ran towards him, and he slammed the door shut before the man got a chance to pester him.  Veronica quickly locked all the doors; the reporters had swarmed the car, all three of them, reminding me of a trio of bloodthirsty zombies.

   “We ready to roll?” asked Brent.  “They’re about to break the glass.”

   “I know, I know.  I’m Veronica, by the way.  It’s so good to meet a friend of Sam’s.  She told you about the odd turn of events that led to our acquaintance, didn’t she?  If not, I could fill you in.”

   “She told me.  She was lucky you found her.”

   “Yes,” replied Veronica, turning the ignition switch and backing her car down the driveway.  “The girl was as water-logged as a Houston road during hurricane season.”

   “Strange analogy,” said Brent. 

   “We’re going to see Karen,” said Veronica as she turned onto the highway.  “She’s a psychic.  She offers spiritual guidance for a fee out of her home, but is willing to help us free of charge.  Karen and my mother were good friends for many years.”

   “Were?” asked Brent.

   “Mother is dead,” said Veronica.

   “I’m sorry,” said Brent.

   “Don’t be, she was very old.  I was adopted when she was 52 years old.  One of the drawbacks of having older parents is that they die.”

   “Is your dad dead, too?” I asked.

   “No,” said Veronica.  “But he lives in a retirement complex across town and knows very little about the supernatural.  I doubt that he could help us.  The house has been left to Mark and I alone, and although it is a bit larger than we necessitate, I have no desire to live elsewhere.  It is my childhood home, and besides that it is a sufficiently prepossessing home with stunning architecture.  I hope you’re not uncomfortable in that seat, Sam.  Let the back down a little, and you won’t have to sit up so straight.  It’s just a few more minutes to Karen’s.  She lives a little on the outskirts of town, but I guarantee you that it will be well worth the drive.”

   I acquiesced and let the lever down on the seat, allowing me to lay back.  Unfortunately, I now had a lovely view of the
Cadillac’s
ceiling rather than the one in my bedroom.  After ten minutes, Veronica’s car turned down an unmarked, gravel road, and its speed slowed to under five miles per hour.  The narrow, lonely path we drove on was filled with ruts and bumps, and several times the tires spun as we hit a patch of mud.

   Then Karen’s home swung into view.

   “We’re here,” said Veronica.

   I strained to sit up so I could have a look.

   “Mother of God,” said Brent.

   “What?” I exclaimed.

   “Don’t you see her?” asked Brent.  “There’s a naked lady in front of that house, gardening!  With nothing on, bare-assed.”

   I started giggling.  It hurt my side.  “You’re kidding.”

   “No.  I’m not,” he replied.

   “Oh.  I should have told you,” said Veronica.  “Karen’s a nudist.  Please don’t judge her harshly.  She’s eccentric and has some strange ways, but she’s a wonderful friend and excellent cook.  She grows organic fruits and vegetables and cooks delicious things with them.  Oh!  But I wish she wouldn’t be so reckless, especially when she’s expecting people.”  Veronica’s cheeks were pink.  I think she was embarrassed.

   I watched Karen as she dug in the garden soil with a trowel.  Karen was about forty, but not unattractive for her age.  Her body possessed a faint tan, which was somewhat uncommon around my town as we only had sunny weather for two months of the year.  None of that eased the extreme discomfort I felt at seeing her ass crack.

   Veronica jumped out of the car.  Neither Brent nor I moved to get out. 

   “Hi, Karen.  I brought you a couple of visitors.”  Veronica approached her.

   “Oh.  I see that.  Suppose I should throw on a dress or something.  I’ll be right back.  Invite them in.”

   We watched as Veronica strode back to the car, pulled her door wide and said:

   “Come on in.  She’s gone in the house to change.  I mean, put clothes on.”

   “Sam, don’t move till I get you your crutches.”  Brent walked to my door holding the crutches, then pulled me up on one foot as he placed them under my armpits.

   I followed Brent and Veronica into Karen’s house, designed in a plain, brown Pacific Northwest style, a form of unpleasing, dreary modern architecture that is supposed to imitate nature but fails miserably.  The interior was just as drab as the home’s exterior, but I was relieved to see that Karen had changed into a housedress, though her feet were still bare.  She placed some cups of tea on a glossy, wooden coffee table and pushed a couple of armchairs closer around it.  I sat on the couch.  Karen sat on an armchair, not bothering to cross her legs under her skirt.  Veronica sat next to Karen on her own armchair, and Brent sat possessively by me on the couch.  Veronica bent over the coffee table to spoon a little sugar into her tea.

   “I hear you’re having problems with some demon?” Karen asked.

   “Yes,” I said uncertainly.

   “He’s the one who did this to you?” She motioned at my cast and crutches.

   “That was somebody else.  This is what the demon did to me.”  I pointed to the bruises on my neck, which by now were just yellow splotches, nothing too serious.

   “I found Sam on the beach yesterday.  Mike and I carried her up to the house.  She was in terrible shape, still is.  The poor girl has three broken bones.  Can you believe it?”

   “I could’ve guessed just by looking at her.  My gosh, her face...so many bruises.  So besides having a demon chasing you, you’ve had a bout of bad fortune and presently are in possession of at least one other enemy.”

   “I was kidnapped by the Seaside Strangler.”

   “Oh, you’re that girl.  My gosh, it’s been on the news.  Well, that must be why Veronica brought you here.  We are going to have to change your bad luck.”

   “It’s not bad luck,” I said.

   “I beg to differ,” she replied.

   “I need to tell you the story and what really happened,” I said.  “It wasn’t
a
Strangler; there were two men.  And they picked me because I designed a software program that communicates with the dead.  They ran me off the road, put me on a boat, and offered me up to the Dark Lord.”

   That surprised her.  Karen did a little start, then composed herself, most likely because she didn’t want us to know her reaction.

   “And you still don’t think you have bad luck,” she then said smartly.  “Demons, among all immortals, are very weak.  Their lack of virtue makes them almost laughably feeble and inept in comparison with other spirits.  However, to humans they are very, very dangerous; their end goal in those encounters with you is always death.  Nothing less will satisfy them.  Because they are unable to fight any good spirit, they will choose a human as their prey.  I could give you a token of fortitude, but it won’t be enough, not for you, not with a demon hot on your tail.  I will have to figure out something else.  Drink your tea; it’s getting cold.”

   Brent looked mystified, staring at Karen as if she had sprouted another head.  Veronica only smiled, stretched her legs, and sipped her tea with dainty sips.  I grabbed at my tea cup, afraid to anger our host by refusing her hospitable offer of nourishment, and Brent followed my lead by grabbing his cup.

   “Brent and I see more ghosts than just the demon,” I said.  “I’ve seen several, and once my mom did, too.”

   “Then you are psychic, like me,” said Karen.

   “At first, I could only talk to a spirit using Casper.  That was the only way.  Then, one morning, after a marathon of wine-induced inebriation the night before, I heard him.  Gregg...he was whispering.  I wasn’t even
running
Casper.  Boy, it surprised me.”

   Veronica looked at me strangely, probably realizing there was a lot I hadn’t told her about my supernatural dealings.  I don’t know why I’d kept so much to myself.

   Karen gave a little sigh.  “Oh, yes.  Alcohol.  Well, that’ll do it or really any drug, for that matter.  Of course, not everyone needs an intoxicant to see and hear them.  I don’t.  It helps those who doubt the supernatural, doubt the existence of an afterlife.  The ability of alcohol to dim a nagging doubt... Well, let me explain it in this way.  Suppose that you are walking home all alone, and you see a shadow cross your path.  If you are a strong believer in the paranormal, you will say to yourself:
That is a ghost
,
I believe that is what I have just seen
.  And suddenly, it is not a shadow you are looking at; it is a person, a spirit.  The edges of the body become more defined, and the mind fills in the blanks that the eyes miss.  The blurry gray silhouette becomes a starched, blue dress.  The ability to see spirits come from your faith that they are real.  Faith allows your soul to see what the eyes can’t.  Similarly, if your disbelief in the paranormal is deeply engrained, you will put up defenses and block out what you should have seen.  The shadow is just a shadow; you know this because ghosts aren’t real.  Alcohol and drugs lower those defenses, those inhibitions, so that you can see what your instinct tells you is there.  Scientists have done a world of good for humanity, but their lack of research into the spirit world, and their failure to accept that it is real; this has done irreparable harm.  But like I say, not everyone who drinks will see ghosts, and not everyone who see ghosts is inebriated.  Intoxicants merely deepen spiritual senses.”

   Karen’s speech made me think for a minute over the past week of my life.  I thought of mom’s drunken affair with the vacuum salesman who was clearly from another era, of Gregg’s first intrusion into my life, and then Brent’s, and the use of Casper to summon the Dark Lord. 

   “But have you always seen ghosts, Karen?” I asked.

   “I’ve spoken with spirits since I was born, yes.  Both my mother as well as I had an innate ability to do so.  You and Brent have a learned ability at supernatural communication, and as you said, anyone could use your software and be successful at it.”

   “Those men, the ones that took me.... they said that they had failed to summon the Dark Lord until that night I was with them.  They had a genuine belief, but still failed to call him.”

   Karen paused and shifted in her seat.  “Again, I think your experience in speaking to the dead played a role here.  Casper helps those who do not have that experience and lack the instinct to interact with the spiritual realm.  And it could be that spirits are naturally attracted to you for some reason.  What gave you the idea to design Casper?  Most students wouldn’t even think of such a thing.”

   “I always knew my room was haunted.  I knew it, but I couldn’t prove it at all.  I made that software to prove that I wasn’t crazy.  If it had failed, I don’t know what I would have done.”  I remembered my doubts after the program failed so many times and frowned.  Sensing my unease, Brent put his arm on my shoulder.

   “Are you okay with all this?” he whispered so only I could hear.

   I nodded.

   “I’ve seen the Dark Lord since childhood,” said Veronica.  “But I couldn’t understand him.  Mother said she could read his thoughts; she knew his every intention.  I didn’t understand how she could do that.”

   “Ah.  Your mother was a natural clairvoyant, one of the best.  It is really so sad that she isn’t here with us.  I do miss her.  Don’t fear a simple spirit; they usually have no ill intentions towards anyone.  They are, for some reason, trapped on earth, unable to pass onto another realm.  Maybe they choose to stay; I’m not sure.  I personally, have helped at least a dozen to cross over, the souls being willing to leave earth but needing my assistance to do so.”  She took another sip of tea.  I worried that if her legs spread any wider, we would see her snatch.

   “There’s someone else I’m afraid of,” I said.

   “There is more than one demon,” asked Karen.

   Veronica cast another strange look my way.

   “It’s what Whittington told me on the yacht; he’s half of the evil pair.”

   “Yes, that’s right.  One of the Seaside Stranglers,” Karen said.

   “He said that a woman named St. Croix disappeared.  Right before her disappearance, she claimed that he was coming to take her away.”

   “Away where?” asked Karen.

   Veronica looked worried.

   “I don’t know.  He also said a group of girls disappeared on Halloween, and they say he took them.”

   “What do you think of this, Veronica?” asked Karen.