“Doesn’t mean she wasn’t secretly unhappy about things, that she didn’t stage stuff like the knives.”
“And there are many cases of entities reacting to children of that age,” Terrell replied. “Something about all the pre-pubescent emotions and hormones seems to bring them out of the woodwork.”
“Or make the kids even better at inventing shit. They’re old enough to know how to construct fabrications. They don’t want to get caught, so they try to lie their way out of things.”
“The knives flying through the air was witnessed by the mother, the father, and the girl’s older brother. The three of them were in the kitchen when it happened.”
“Huh,” Ron replied, surprised, not quite sure how to respond to keep his line of argument going. “I guess it’s too much to suggest collusion.”
“To what end?”
“Notoriety. Wasn’t The Amityville Horror right around that time, in New York? You said the incident even had a name. Someone wanted to make some money from a haunted house story, perhaps.”
“Well, I can’t really speak to that. Obviously it was before my time, and I wasn’t there. As far as I know, the situation was never reported in the press, nor was there any attempt to capitalize on it. The only records of it were made by an organization I trust.”
“Organization?”
“Yes.”
“What, like a ghost writer’s club?”
“Not exactly. But their record for documentation is solid.”
“Who are they?”
“You wouldn’t know them. They don’t publish for notoriety, just enthusiasts.”
“Like you.”
“Yes.”
“What, like books? You bought their books?”
“Christ, the third degree!” Jake interjected. “Give the kid a break, Ron!”
“They don’t make money selling books,” Terrell offered. “Trust me. They’re more photocopies than books. What I paid for the information barely covered the cost of the paper, I’m sure.”
“Whatever,” Ron replied, noting the scowl Jake was still giving him. He tipped his beer and took a long swig of the cold beverage, feeling the subject dissipate as the alcohol entered his system.
“I told you he was skeptical,” Jake said to Terrell.
“What I don’t get,” Terrell replied, turning again to Ron, “is that you yourself told me you saw ghosts in your back yard. Yet you discredit this story I’m telling you about the knives.”
Good point, Ron thought. “My rational brain struggles with this kind of shit, almost constantly. My first inclination is to search for an answer that has some basis in normal, cogent thought. History is full of mystical justifications for things that were later given concrete, scientific explanations, making the supernatural explanations look stupid. I’d hate to think I’m jumping to an irrational idea just because the real answer isn’t immediately apparent.” He grabbed his beer and walked to the living room to sit down. “I remember a TV show, years ago, where this guy would walk around a group of people and claim to be receiving messages from the dead. He’d say things like, ‘Someone seated in this area is thinking of the color orange, or has a family member who died in an accident,’ and someone would raise their hand, and then he’d tell them more about a message he was receiving from their dead uncle, or mother, or whatever. And it really came off as creepy, like he really was channeling something. The people would be in shock at what he told them because it was all so accurate. He’d have them in tears, telling them their father wanted them to know this or that, or that their sister who died of some disease was happy in some better place, and for them not to worry. I remember watching it with Elenore, and she actually told me she thought he was some kind of miracle, that he had ‘the gift’ and was the real deal. I remember reading that this guy charged astronomical rates for private readings, and the waiting list to see him was years long.”
“I remember that guy!” Jake said enthusiastically, sitting on the sofa. “John something or other. Freedom loved him! She has some of his books. He hasn’t been on TV for a while, though. At least, I haven’t seen him.”
“So, I did some research,” Ron continued, “and the guy uses common techniques most people don’t know about. I found out the show was heavily edited, a three or four hour taping cut down to a half hour, showing only the parts he happened to get right, cutting out all the things he got wrong.”
“I know who you’re talking about,” Terrell said. “He’s a grandstander. Not what I do, not what I study.”
“My point is,” Ron continued, “if you didn’t know about the tricks, the techniques, the editing, it was so easy to just default to ‘the guy really has a connection to the dead!’ like Elenore and Freedom.”
“And me!” Jake added. “I was convinced.”
“And then you study up on it,” Ron continued, “even just a little – it took me all of five minutes on the internet – and you find out the whole thing is sleight of hand. Skilled sleight of hand, like a magician, but with words.”
“Agreed,” Terrell said.
“So, you can see my reticence to buy into the things you’re saying without some research into more plausible explanations. Human beings are complex, and the world is complex, and because of that, people like simple answers that make them feel good. I don’t like being naïve or a fool because I bought some charlatan’s line that appealed to the human need for simplicity.”
“Hey, wait a minute, are you saying I’m naïve?” Jake asked.
“If you thought that guy was for real, yeah, you’re a sucker,” Ron replied. “You’re the kind of person that’s easy pickings for hucksters.”
“Thankfully, I have you to rain all over the parade and take all the fun out of things,” Jake said, toasting him with his bottle.
“I understand exactly what you’re saying,” Terrell added, “and, please believe me, I completely agree with you. The world is full of opportunists. What I study, though, is different. I’m not an opportunist. I’m more of a student. Since I was little, I was drawn to these kinds of subjects. My friends would buy comic books, but I was buying paranormal studies, building a collection. I would devour them as quickly as I could get them, always wanting more. After a while, it became easy to differentiate between the fake, sensational stuff like Amityville and the real, usually unreported events that were truly bizarre. I went so far as to contact some of the people who were involved, just to assure myself that what I was reading actually happened.”
“My girlfriend said you were gifted,” Jake replied. “That’s why I called you. Do you consider yourself gifted?”
“There are all kinds of gifts,” Terrell started, interrupted by Ron scoffing. “You’re thinking of the TV medium when you hear that word, I get it. What I’m talking about is different. Most of the people I know who are gifted don’t put out a shingle, don’t try to make money off it. They keep it to themselves.”
“But you run a ghost tour,” Ron said.
“It’s really more of a historical tour of the town, with a few local legends thrown in,” Terrell replied. “I’m not reading fortunes, or trying to communicate with the dead for a price.”
“It was a good tour,” Jake interjected. “Both Freedom and I liked it a lot. You tell a good story.”
“Thanks.”
“So, your gift is being a storyteller,” Ron replied.
“Well, no, not really. That’s not the aspect of ‘gift’ that I’d describe for myself.”
“What is it, then, since we’re being so open about things?”
“Well, as I studied, I realized that most genuinely gifted people had ways of sensing things, things that aren’t always visible or apparent.”
“Ghosts?” Jake asked.
“Yes, that’s one, but there’s far more than that. Some people described it as a kind of…of…”
“Dimension?” Jake offered enthusiastically.
“No, not quite that. More like a flow of information.
Kind of like the internet. You know how there’s thousands of sites and services on the web, but none of them really, physically, exist? Everyone knows Amazon’s storefront, for example. But it’s not really there. It’s just a bunch of zeroes and ones stored in computers – something you or I would consider baffling if it were to be made physical in some way, like printed out on paper. But in our minds it’s really real, we can picture it. And it certainly has made billions of dollars. It’s a real thing.”
“But can’t be seen,” Jake said, stirred by the metaphor Terrell was weaving.
“It has a headquarters and warehouses and all that,” Ron countered.
“Yes, but the storefront, the place where you shop, browse, search, place orders…that’s all ephemeral. What I’m referring to is kind of like that. Things exist that aren’t physical, but are made real by observation. There are people with gifts that allow them to see those things, or parts of them, even though most people can’t, or won’t. It’s like they have their own private internet browsers that let them tune into this ephemeral flow of information that surrounds us.”
“Bullshit,” Ron replied. “Sorry to be so blunt about it, but come on.”
“Do you know how much stuff is flying through the air around us right now?” Jake said, coming to Terrell’s defense. “Stuff none of us can see? Wi-Fi and radio and television signals, microwave? Just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean it isn’t there!”
“I have yet to meet someone who can detect Wi-Fi networks without using their phone or a laptop,” Ron replied.
“It’s internal,” Terrell replied. “Like an organ, almost. Some people are born with the ability; most are not. Of those who have it, some have a lot, some less. Most people have a little, and most of them ignore what they have. There are people, I promise you, who have a ton of it and know how to use it. The more I studied and dug into the obscure cases, the more I learned that they are there. I think I have a little of it, and I’ve been trying to cultivate it, to make it grow, like exercising a muscle. And I found someone in Port Angeles who I’m pretty convinced is loaded with it, almost like a master of it, and I’ve been trying to meet him, to see if he’d mentor me. So, yes, they’re out there. They really are. You just have to get to a real one. A good sign that someone is for real is that they don’t sell their services.”
“Like the two hundred dollars I’m paying you?”
“The two hundred is approximately what I’m going to lose from my tour business by coming here,” Terrell replied. “And you called me.”
“I called you,” Jake interjected.
“I didn’t advertise anything,” Terrell finished.
Ron was about to reply when a timer went off in the kitchen. Instead, he rose and walked out of the room to check on dinner.
“He’s really a nice guy,” Jake said. “Sometimes an asshole, but most of the time nice.”
“No biggie,” Terrell replied. “At least half the husbands on my ghost tour were dragged into it by their wives and don’t believe a word I speak. So, I’m used to it.”
Chapter Ten
Ron put the call on speakerphone. He figured, the house being so large and locked in his bedroom, it was unlikely the others would be disturbed. “Hope it’s not too early,” he said.
“No, it’s fine.” Elenore sounded sleepy. “Sun’s just coming up. There’s really no better time to call.”
“How’s it going?”
“Half and half. Some things smoothed out yesterday, but Ira thinks it’s going to drag on. He’s probably right.”
“Drag on? How long?”
“Don’t know yet. We have to see how negotiations go over the next few days.”
“Does this mean you’re not coming back next week?”
“Like I said, Ron, I don’t know. Plans are still for then but they could change.”
Ron was disappointed. “Well, shoot,” he finally said in response.
“Don’t lay some kind of guilt trip on me. It’s business. Has to be done.”
“No, I know. Can’t I be sad a little, though? I miss you.”
“You have that house to work on. You’ll be fine.”
“You can’t talk to Ira? Maybe he’d let you take a weekend off, fly back?”
“No way I’m going to approach Ira with that! No one else on the team is asking for that kind of thing; it would make me look less committed. Plus, I’d lose the whole weekend to flying, I’d be spending all my time in the air! No, I’m staying here until it’s done and the group goes home. You know how important this is to me, Ron. They finally consider me part of the group, and I’m not going to ruin it with a bunch of demands that the others don’t require. It’ll just single me out as a problem.”
“Alright, I get it.”
“Talked to Robbie?”
“Yeah. He seems fine.”
“And Mom?”
“She says he’s behaving himself. Have you talked to him?”
“It’s been a couple of days. I’ve missed a couple of calls.”
“I’m sure he’d love to hear from you. I know he misses you too.”
“He’s been calling early, and it’s still during the work day when I can’t stop and take it. By the time I can return it, he’s in school. We keep missing each other.”
“Maybe I should ask Grace to have him call you at night, like I try to do.”
“As long as it’s not too early here. If I have to wake up at 4 AM for the call, I’ll be a mess the next day.”
“Gotcha.”
There was a pause as Ron considered how he might reconnect his son with his wife. Before he could suggest alternatives, Elenore replied.
“I’ve got to start getting ready. We’ve got an early meeting, and it’s quite a ways from the hotel.”
“Alright, I’ll let you go. Love you.”
“Me too. Bye.”
The line went dead.
Ron placed his phone on the nightstand and looked at the large king bed. One side was ruffled and disturbed where he’d been sleeping; the other side still maintained some order, emphasizing the fact that Elenore hadn’t slept it in for a while.
A long while, he thought. She hasn’t yet even slept in this house.
Given everything still to do, and all the weird shit, maybe that’s a good thing. If she has to stay longer, that gives me more time to get things fixed.
He felt a little better.
Still…not one question about the house, how things here were coming along.
She’s focusing on work, he argued with himself. She’s not thinking about the house, she’s got a ton of things to do where she is.
But…when it comes right down to it, she doesn’t really like the house, and isn’t excited by it.
He stripped down and slipped into the sheets, enjoying the crisp coolness of them, waiting for the bed to warm a little.
It would have been nice if she’d at least asked about it, though. Face it; you love this place, and she doesn’t. She never did.
I wonder what Robbie will think of it. There’s so much more space here, compared to our cramped home in the city. He’ll be able to explore and play and enjoy himself, without cars constantly screaming down the street, or the vagrants or drunks or criminals that constantly case our neighborhood, looking for opportunities, always looking for ways to steal things or break and vandalize things. Pissing on the sidewalk. Leaving syringes on the curbs. Here, he’ll have this huge yard with no one around. We won’t have to monitor him every second of the day.
He closed his eyes, thinking about how long it would be before Robbie could make the move. He was grateful to Grace for allowing their son to stay in town and keep him at his school, until the house was ready and Elenore was back, and a proper move-in could occur. Two weeks more? he wondered. Three? A month?
God, I hope not that long.
Terrell was in a room at the end of the upstairs hall that had a view of the back yard. Jake was still in the guest room downstairs, his guns no
w unloaded, secured with trigger locks, stored in his truck. Terrell had advised them to not become concerned if he moved about the house during the night, and also asked to be woken if either of them experienced anything unusual.
The evenings were getting colder. Ron turned his head to look out the window. It was clear, and stars were out. He wondered what constellations he was seeing; he knew the Big Dipper when he saw it, but all the others he’d never successfully memorized. Maybe I should learn them. There’s probably an app that would tell me which stars I’m seeing.
He wondered if the face he’d seen at the window several nights before would return tonight. In his mind, he replayed how it scratched at the window, how it pulled back so quickly into the darkness. He tried to remember features, but the whole incident seemed fuzzy and unreal. It was easy to pretend it never happened, that it was all just part of a waking nightmare.
It made him think of the way he’d argued with Terrell and Jake earlier.
What if I take Terrell at his word, and accept that the paranormal is real? Are there really things out there, on my property? Creatures of some kind? Are they normal, run of the mill entities? Or are they unusual creatures, things not seen before, things that just exist here, on the one piece of land I happened to buy? Maybe there are real animals that are unique, that exist nowhere else but here. Maybe this is some weird little ecosystem, still completely natural, just unusual because it’s isolated. Like Galapagos. Things have evolved differently on this patch of land, and over time, it produced unique things that seem strange when compared to normal areas. Things like…
Ghosts?
The word seemed silly, and it made him throw the brakes on his speculation. Ghosts were something children were frightened of, not adults. Adults knew it was all make believe.
Suddenly he shivered under the covers, a full-body convulsion of the willies.
He closed his eyes, irritated that he’d managed to scare himself just before trying to sleep.
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Smoke!
The Coldwater Haunting Page 11