Pennies for the Ferryman - 01 (22 page)

His eyes narrowed and he at least looked slightly fearful,
“And what would you do there?”

“That’s where your body is. If I’m to be framed for Karla’s murder, what’s a bit of grave robbing and desecration on top of that? I’m still kind of new to this business, but I reckon that’d finish you, wouldn’t it? I’d like some answers, ghost. What’s this all about?”

“Fine, she dies and then so do you!”

I hurled my last big handful of filings at him, but Vincent swung Karla, pushing her directly into the path of the iron.
 
Stepping to the side, he swung the poker at me with murderous intent. Somehow, I pulled Karla from his grasp, tossing her onto the couch and parried his blow.

Vincent was fast and skilled, but I’m no slouch either. The hook on the poker ripped into my sleeve and I winced as I felt it dig into my arm. I was out of filings, but he didn’t know that. I faked tossing an empty handful at him, which made him leap backwards and relax his grip on the poker. Pressing my advantage, I jabbed with the saber, slicing his thigh open with the blade. He yelped in pain and went through the wall. I pulled the hook of the poker out of my arm and tossed it to the ground before running out the door after him.
 

Vincent’s head start was negated by the badly injured ghost on the porch. That poor slob clutched at Strong’s legs while pleading with him. The Colonel wasn’t in a merciful mood at the moment and punched him before he leaped off the porch.
 

I ran after him, but the fresh snow on the ground was slowing me down more than the cut on his ghost leg was impeding him.

Rusty got out of his truck and started towards me shouting, “What’s going on, Mike?”

“Look out!” Granted, it was kind of stupid of me to shout that, considering Rusty couldn’t exactly see what was about to happen. There was a bright flash when the ghost slammed into Rusty, sending him flying ten feet backwards onto the hood of his vehicle. The windshield cracked, creating a spider web effect behind Rusty.
 

Vincent looked drained, like he expended a large amount of energy tossing Rusty. Seconds later, he simply ran through the Dakota, causing it to sputter and die. I slipped as I went around the truck and we continued our mad dash down the road. The little voice in the back of my head spoke up – asking me why Vincent didn’t simply disappear, returning to his grave site. Was he trying to lead me into a trap?

At the edge of the property, he stumbled unexpectedly, but managed to crawl out onto the road. I closed with him noticing a haze in the air where the ghost fell. He seemed less defined and appeared considerably weakened. I guessed there were some protections around this house as well!

“Who’s giving the orders, Vincent?”

Vincent managed a thin smile.
“Keep wondering, Michael Ross and enjoy your fleeting victory. Powers far greater than I are arrayed against you. Indeed, I truly pity you.”

I tried to run him through, but he disappeared before I could reach him with the saber. No doubt, he would reappear at his resting place in northwestern Pennsylvania, hours away from where I stood.

“Who is giving the orders? Is it General John Reynolds?” I shouted at the wounded ghost, a Union Private who glared up at me. I’m not one for torture in interrogation, but I needed to know. I tossed a few more filings on him and grabbed his hand again.

He screamed.

I reached for some more iron filings.

“The General’s in the chain of command, but he’s just like the Colonel.”

“What did he say?” Rusty asked, cleaning my cut with peroxide from a first aid kit.
 
It was my turn to wince in pain. Karla stood in her doorway staring at both of us. I’d considered her extremely attractive in the videos. Right then, she looked more like a candidate for a loony bin.

“Reynolds is part of it, but he’s not the top? Tell me who is!”

Over the guy’s protests, Rusty informed me, “Mike, it’s a small wound, but it goes down a ways. Looks like it didn’t get any arteries or veins. We can take you to the nearest emergency room or I can give you the Super Glue treatment – what’s it going to be?”

“It’d be hard to explain where I got this cut. Screw it. Glue me.” Construction workers, backpackers, and more than a handful of us combat vets knew the benefits of using the stuff to seal a wound. I pinched the skin as he wiped away the blood with some paper towels and quickly applied a layer of glue. Again, there was searing pain. As soon as it dried, I released my grip and he covered the patch with gauze and then strips of duct tape to hold it together. Another layer of gauze went over the tape and then another layer of tape. It was quick, dirty, but terribly effective.

Through all of this Karla kept staring around and shaking. It might’ve been from the cold, but more likely from her ordeal. “We’ve got to get out of here! They’ll be back.”

“Calm down, Miss Thompson. We’ve got some time. Darren told me that you had his notes.”

“Is Darren’s ghost here with you? Is he here? Darren! Honey? I’ve missed you so much!”

“I’m sorry, Karla. The ghost who was the leader here destroyed Darren’s ghost, but Darren told me to find you and get his notes.”

“He’s really gone? I – I --” She broke down sobbing.

I motioned to Rusty to handle it. I was too busy questioning the ghost to deal with a crying woman. “Take her inside and help her pack what she needs. We’ll see if we can get her Tahoe running and get her on the road.”

It took some coaxing, but Rusty and I convinced her that she’d be safe enough with us to go back into the house and collect some of her things.

Looking back at the ghost I continued, “Now you were telling me about General Reynolds. What role does he play?”

“The General’s giving the orders, but they ain’t a coming from him,”
The Private said, eyeing my bottle of iron filings warily.

“Who is it?”

“I don’t know! He’s called Lord Justice. That’s all I know!”

“Where can I find this Lord Justice?”

“You don’t want to find him, boy! He’ll kill you for sure! Even the General and Colonel are scared of him.”

“What do they want me for?”

“They just want you dead and we don’t ask no questions.”

This was frustrating. Other than the seeing and touching ghosts thing, what was so special about me? I learned he was a Private with the 20
^th
Maine, but little else and that their orders were to keep Karla under guard and not let her leave the property. It was no wonder she’d been so scared of them.

Twenty minutes later Karla and Rusty came out dragging several bags. The Private faded away, leaving me with precious little knowledge.

“One of them’s still here, right?” She asked. Her eyes were darting across the porch and front yard like a caged animal. Karla did something with her hair and she looked slightly better, but not by much.

“No. He’s gone.”

“Gone like back to a graveyard or destroyed?”

I answered, “Destroyed.” That sounded more clinical than ‘I blew him up with a grenade and then watched him expire before my eyes.’ He couldn’t just disappear because of something Darren did to the property. I needed to know what it was.

“Good. Can we leave now?” She replied caustically.

I wasn’t in a position to judge her, even if she wasn’t exactly showering me with gratitude for rescuing her. Whatever she’d been through, it must have been hard on her.

“Darren’s notes?”

“I’ll give them to you when my Chevy is running.”

It took the better part of an hour to get the tires on Karla’s SUV inflated. The engine wouldn’t turn over, so Rusty and I pushed it down the hill, close enough to where Rusty’s truck could give it a jump start. The ghosts kept her a prisoner on the property for the past six months, so it wasn’t a big mystery that her truck’s battery was completely drained.

Karla filled in some of the blanks while we worked. Vincent was eager to learn about me and wrote notes to her demanding answers. For once, the fact that my name was really David Michael Ross, Junior was working in my favor.

She refused to talk about Darren and the days preceding his death, only saying that he showed up at her apartment the night before he died. He gave her all his notes and told her to leave town if anything happened to him. We learned that the missing inventory from the nearby Qwik-Mart was stolen by the ghosts, just enough to keep Karla alive, if not particularly well fed. Every time she tried to leave, bad things happened to her. They herded her like a sheep and always let her know that they were around.

The fun loving woman I’d seen on The Eye of Horus videos was gone, maybe for good. I felt a little better about killing those ghosts – if that’s the right word for dispatching something that’s already dead. As for Karla, my low opinion of people working in the mental health field was well established, but in all honesty, I thought she could use some time with a therapist, looking for her happy place.

With both her vehicle and Rusty’s running, she clambered into her driver’s seat. There were more questions to ask her.

“Karla, do you remember when you were investigating the graveyard in Baltimore and the spirit there told you it was waiting for Ross? Did it mean me?”

“I don’t know and I don’t care. I never want to hear about another ghost ever again! Here, take this!” She fished in her purse and pulled out a digital voice recorder and a USB thumb drive. The items were rudely shoved into my hands. “They don’t really understand computers.”

“Where will you go?”

“Far away, out west maybe. If I don’t tell you exactly where, you can’t tell them,” She said, looking more than a little frazzled.

“But what if I need to get in touch with you? Or you need to talk to me?”

 
“I won’t want to and you won’t be able to. I’m leaving now. Keep standing where you are and I’ll run you over.”

Karla drove off, leaving me with some answers in hand and naturally, more questions.

Climbing into the cab, I looked at the sleeve of my ruined jacket and grunted. I’ll need to get a new one unless blood and leather was the new “in” look.

Rusty shook his head gazing at the cracks running across his window. Fortunately, most of it was on the passenger side, otherwise it’d be difficult to drive. “I hate to say this Mike, but I’m going to need some cash to fix the windshield. My deductible is five hundred, so it’ll be easier if we could just pay cash. Sorry, man, but things are kind of tight for me this time of the year. I’ll get you half of it back in a month or so.”

Less than a week ago, I had over six thousand dollars. I suppose if it weren’t happening to me, it’d be hilarious – small wonder I hate the Christmas season. “Ho Ho Ho, easy come, easy go!”

Dead Eye Episode 7: Blood, Sweat, and Fear

The controls on Darren Porter’s digital voice recorder were pretty much the same as those on mine. With a bit of trepidation, I pushed an ear-bud into my good ear and then hit the play button, preparing myself. One way or another, I was about to get some long awaited answers.

March 8, 2006 – Field research notes of Darren Porter. I’m doing my best not to begin babbling like a fool, but I saw a ghost today. Unlike prior inquiries, I didn’t have an EMF detector, or temperature probe looking for cold spots, or the gut sensations that I’d been using all my life. I saw this ghost with my own two eyes! He was a Union Private simply walking around town. I spent a good portion of the day following him and watching as he walked through objects. This is amazing! It defies all logic, but somehow, suddenly, I’ve acquired the ability to see ghosts. I don’t have a theory to account for it -- I woke with a splitting headache around two in the morning and couldn’t get back to sleep.