“Ron said he saw a lot of them,” Jake offered. “Where did they come from?”
“Well, they can’t be manufactured out of whole cloth,” Abe replied. “They had to be recruited from somewhere. Is there a graveyard nearby?”
“Mount Soltis cemetery,” Ron said, “on the other side of the hill. Oldest cemetery in the McLean area. Hundreds of graves.”
“That could be it,” Abe replied.
“So, Ezra collected them?” Jake asked. “What, he just went to the graveyard and conjured them up?”
“Well,” Abe said, “here’s where my theory is going to get a little tricky. I suspect that Ezra was created by the Coldwaters for the purpose of keeping that collection of ghosts marshaled and focused with the sole purpose of haunting your property. I suspect he’s been there for years, continuing this mission. I think he’s a Volger, or a type of one.”
“Volger,” Jake repeated. “What’s a Volger?”
“Think of it as an entity capable of controlling ghosts, directing them to do its bidding,” Abe answered. “They are very powerful. Most ghosts are individual entities, caught in a loop of their own making, or the result of some extreme experience, like a murder or some other kind of strong, emotional death. They operate within that experience, forever reliving it, haunting the area where it occurred because of the energy generated by the nature of their death. However, the ghosts on your property aren’t there because of any such thing; they were resurrected, in a way, and brought there with the intent of haunting you, of haunting the people who used to live there, to scare them away, drive them crazy, that type of thing. Keeping that many ghosts corralled and organized requires not only the energy to resurrect and maintain them, it also requires energy to keep them focused on the mission they’ve been resurrected to accomplish. In this case, the Volger is fulfilling that role. They’re very suited for such a purpose, and I’ve read cases of them being used in this manner to great effect.”
Ron leaned back in his chair. Although the pounding in his head continued, he felt as though he’d heard the first solid idea that might lead to solving things. It gave him hope. It’s a totally insane idea, he thought, but at least it’s an answer.
If Abe’s right.
“Are you sure?” Ron asked. “I mean, Terrell thought it was all kinds of things.”
“Terrell isn’t very experienced,” Abe replied. “I can’t say my theory is correct for sure, but I think it’s highly likely, particularly since you’ve confirmed the first part of it with your sojourn into the basement. And if it is, the good news is that there is something you can do about it.”
Ron sat up, lowering his hands from his head, looking at the phone. “What?”
“Well, as I said, a great deal of energy is required to keep this all going,” Abe replied. “The Volger is supplying the energy to the ghosts, no doubt, but the Volger itself requires energy to continue its work. Volgers are implemented in several ways, but the most common method is a type of separation tension. If your Volger has been created this way, it’s relatively easy to end it. Once you end it, its energy will dissipate, and it will be unable to control the ghosts. They will disband and make their way back to the cemetery.”
“How?” Ron asked. “How do we end it?”
“Separation tension is created by splitting an entity in two,” Abe replied. “The dark entity you see in the basement, the one you’ve met and talked to, is half of the whole. The other half is somewhere else. The separation of the two halves is what causes the energy; if you reunite them in some way, the tension is relieved and the energy goes away.”
“I can guess where the other half is,” Jake offered. “Coldwater mansion.”
“A very good supposition,” Abe replied. “That’s where I’d look.”
“Are you saying we have to move one of these halves to the other?” Ron asked. “Like, get the one in the basement to go back to Coldwater mansion?”
“No, there is a simpler way to shut down the separation,” Abe replied. “The half in your basement is not a physical entity, but the other half, wherever it is, will definitely be physical. Make sure you take a sharp knife with you, and pull out an eye. Cut its stalk, and bring it back to your basement. When the physical Volger sees its non-physical half, the tension will start to unravel. As long as your half can’t find the physical half, it will lose control and die off.”
Ron began to shake his head a little. “That’s crazy.”
“What if it finds the physical half?” Jake asked.
“How far away is it?” Abe asked.
“Two miles as the crow flies, maybe more,” Jake answered.
“It will never travel that far,” Abe replied. “It may search a few hundred feet, but if it’s not right there, it won’t have the energy to travel.”
“Listen to yourself,” Ron said. “It’ll see itself through a severed eye? Seriously? This sounds like bullshit, Abe.”
“It will work,” Abe replied. “Well, at least that’s what I’ve read. No tension will exist if it realizes its other half. The energy is created by that lack of knowledge, the mental separation. Once the Volger is reunited in this way, the energy ends and the entity in your basement will die off. The basement will return to normal, which means the ghosts currently under its control will be free to leave. None of them want to be there, I assure you. Well, most, I would expect. There might be one or two laggards who’ve grown accustomed to the place, but Terrell can help you get rid of those. With the Volger gone, the threat to those of us with the gift will be gone, too. You will have diffused the bomb, so to speak.”
“So, that’s your theory?” Ron asked. “We need to find the other half of this entity, cut out its eye, and bring it back to the basement? Then it’ll be over?”
“That’s my best guess,” Abe replied. “And with the ghosts gone, your family can move in and not receive a scare every night. Unless you’d like to reconsider and just live with the scares. I can’t guarantee they’re completely benign, though; could frighten you into walking off a balcony or stabbing someone by mistake.”
“No,” Jake replied. “We’ve already seen something along those lines. Too risky.”
“Listen,” Ron said, still trying to wrap his brain around Abe’s insane idea. “I have a hard time imagining this thing is going to just sit there while we cut out its eye.”
“Oh, right!” Abe replied. “You are absolutely correct; I forgot to tell you this part. The physical half may, indeed, fight back. The good news is that it’s easy to mesmerize. One of you will need a strobe, a portable one, one that you can carry with you. Use the strobe on it until it seems frozen. Let it sit like this for a full minute; it’ll slowly become more and more entranced, and once its fully mesmerized, you can do just about anything you want to it. Pull out an eye and cut it off. When you douse the strobe, it’ll take a few seconds for the Volger to regain its senses. Make sure you’re gone by then.”
Ron paused for a moment and looked up at Jake. His friend was nodding, seemingly satisfied with Abe’s diagnosis. Ron wasn’t at all sure of his own feelings about it; his headache was making analytical thinking painful. “OK, Abe,” he finally said. “I guess we go to the mansion and find this thing.”
“Take a supply of the nazars with you,” Abe offered. “They will be required for you to see and interact with what you find. Don’t use the bottle I gave you while you’re there, though. You need to save that for your final confrontation in the basement.”
“Alright,” Jake replied. “Anything else?”
“Good luck!” Abe offered, “and let me know how it goes. Or, rather, call Terrell and let him know.”
The line went dead. Silence filled the room for a few moments as the two men considered what they’d been told. Ron ran it over in his mind; each step that Abe described was becoming more and more ludicrous the more he thought about it.
He glanced at his friend. “This is totally batshit crazy, you know that?”
Jake s
miled. “I know. But we’re gonna do it, right?”
Ron didn’t respond. His head hurt too much to think about it.
“Right?” Jake asked again.
“You sound like you want to.”
“Well, this thing is fucking up your life, so, yeah, isn’t that what we’ve been trying to do? Get rid of it?”
“By breaking and entering, mesmerizing some kind of creature, cutting out its eye, and bringing it back here. That sound logical to you?”
“Uhh…” Jake replied, “…well, when you say it that way, no, but what else are we going to do?”
He stood up, shuffling toward the stairs. “I’m going to sleep. Ask me again in the morning.”
- - -
As he waited for Grace to pick up, Ron wondered why he felt desperate.
Is this like those scenes in movies, where the hero says goodbye to all his loved ones before he goes off to slay the dragon? In case he doesn’t survive?
He already tried to reach Elenore, but the call went to voice mail. He left her a message, just saying hello, no emergency, just wanting to hear her voice. It was unlikely she’d return the call until later, probably that night.
He knew Jake was waiting for him downstairs, but he needed time for just one more call.
“Hello, Grace? Hi, it’s Ron. Just wondering if Robbie is around. Sure.”
He waited while Grace took the phone down to the basement room where his son was staying, wondering how far he should go: Do I tell him I’m about to do something stupid? That I may never see him again?
“Hey, son! How are you, bud?...uh huh…she said that? Then you should probably do it, she’s in charge until you come up here to the new house…soon, buddy, real soon. You want to come?...good, I think you’ll like it here….listen, I wanted to…” He paused.
What exactly did you want to accomplish with this call? he wondered.
“…I just wanted to see how you are, see if everything’s OK….sounds like it is…it sure is good to hear your voice.”
Don’t scare the kid. Don’t make him think something is wrong, don’t cause him to worry.
“OK…yes, soon…it sounds like everything is fine…yeah, soon, buddy. The house is almost ready for you…just keep minding Grandma and I’ll be up there to bring you down, OK? Schoolwork first, right?...good, good…I love you, son.”
His son’s reply was a quick, cursory “I love you” that signaled the end of the call. He wanted it to be more; he wanted it to represent the deep connection he felt toward the child, and the fear he had of losing that connection. You can’t expect more than that, he thought. You only wanted to hear his voice, and to say the words, so that if something bad happens, at least he heard them from you. That’s all.
The phone on the other end was handed off to Grace and Ron gave her a quick update, then hung up.
He sat on the edge of the bed, feeling a little hollow. The words had been said, but, aside from Jake, he felt alone in what he was about to do. Elenore was too busy to return his call; he wouldn’t hear from her until after he and Jake were done with the task. And Robbie, well, his son sounded fine, although he clearly wanted to come to the house. Neither of them was the slightest bit aware of the insane things he was about to do.
Or how frightened he felt.
He stood up and slipped the phone into his pocket, then headed downstairs where Jake was waiting.
- - -
“I don’t see the house or the dogs,” Ron said, rising in his seat, trying to peer ahead. There was a slight hill in Yate’s Court, obscuring whatever was beyond.
“And I don’t see any left turn,” Jake replied, looking out the driver side window as he slowly inched his truck forward. “Dogs that live in quiet areas like this pick up on sounds easily. They’re gonna hear the tires on the gravel.”
“Just go slow,” Ron said, still inches off the passenger seat, trying to see beyond the rise in the road. “It’s got to be there. Might look overgrown. Wait…wait, there it is, twenty feet up.” He pointed.
Jake moved the truck forward slowly, taking care to not rev the engine or make more noise than necessary. Tension inside the cab was already high, and they hadn’t even reached the Coldwater mansion yet. Both of them were on alert, their senses sharp.
As the truck inched forward, Ron strained his ears, listening for barking. “So far so good,” he said.
“I really do not want my paint scratched,” Jake said.
“I’m more concerned about anyone knowing we are here.”
A sign appeared on the right, partly hidden by vines and overgrowth. “No Trespa” appeared on the left half of it, the right obscured, and under that “Private Pr”.
“If they really cared about people not coming down their driveway,” Jake said, “they’d make sure that sign wasn’t covered up.”
“Maybe they’re just lazy.”
“I’ll sue if those dogs scratch it. I just had it done last year.”
The small turn to the left was a narrow road, scattered with blackberry vines that stuck out from the sides, crisscrossing the path. “Fuck!” Jake said, as he turned the truck. “More shit to scratch at my paint job!”
“It’s just blackberries,” Ron replied, realizing his friend was as amped up as he’d ever seen him.
The truck started down the constricted path. Plants scraped against the side of the vehicle, and Ron watched as his friend winced and complained.
“They’ve got huge thorns!” Jake said, his face tightening and contorting in response to the slaps and scrapes along the side of the truck.
“They catch on clothes but I doubt they can hurt paint,” Ron replied, not entirely sure he was right.
The uneven road made the truck bounce left and right as they slowly crawled down it. Ron turned to look out the back window, to see if dogs were on their trail. He watched as the long blackberry branches snapped back into place as they cleared the truck, swinging obnoxiously in the air. He’d been on the receiving end of swinging stalks; he knew how they could sink into skin and lodge their thorns, producing a nasty cut when they pulled free.
“No dogs,” he said. “I think we’ve cleared the Yates place without being detected.”
“Fuck!” Jake spat as a loud scrape worked its way down the left side of the truck. “If I get out and this paint job is all fucked up, I am going to be sooo pissed.”
“It’ll be fine,” Ron said, turning back to look out the front windshield.
“Logging road my ass. You couldn’t get a logging truck down this thing if you wanted to.”
“Abandoned logging road. Probably wider years ago.”
It took a couple of minutes fighting against the blackberries before the road emerged onto a slightly more open path that ran left and right. Slight ruts and the absence of trees were the only indication that it was even a road, and green moss growing in the ruts gave the impression that it was rarely used.
“This must be Barlow,” Ron said.
“Not much of a road.”
“Turn left.”
Jake maneuvered the truck off the old logging route, bouncing through a ditch and climbing up to the wider road’s surface. “Thank god,” he said. “No blackberries. And all that bouncing around was making me sick. And claustrophobic.”
“She said a hundred yards, couldn’t miss it,” Ron replied, looking down at the note Mrs. Hughes had provided. He realized the scrawled map didn’t have any orientation or landmarks, making it almost useless.
After a minute had gone by, Jake said, “A hundred yards…sure seems like we’ve past the length of a football field.”
“Yeah, it does…go a little farther.”
Jake slowly rolled down the level road, but no house appeared.
“There was something that looked like a turn back there on the right,” Ron said, looking in the mirror. “Based on her instructions I thought we’d see the house from this road, but maybe she forgot a turn.”
Jake put the truck into reverse and sl
owly backed up. “She is old.”
“And everything seems overgrown.”
Ron zeroed in on a faint path that ran between two large trees. “Doesn’t look like much, but there is a culvert. This might be it. It’s the only thing even close to a hundred yards.”
“Great,” Jake said, shifting into drive and turning to the right. “More blackberries.”
They forced the truck through the overgrowth. The forest became thick on either side, with new growth – hundreds of narrow tree trunks – blocking the view in any direction other than forward. More long blackberry stalks reached out into the path, forcing Jake to push past them, their sharp barbs ringing down the sides of the vehicle as they progressed. Some seemed capable of making louder noises than others, and Jake’s entire body contorted in response, as though he personally felt each one.
Ron watched out the front, hoping to see some sign of a house ahead. The last thing he wanted was to wind up lost.
Then, in the same way his home suddenly appeared at the end of his driveway, the Coldwater mansion came into view, revealed in the distance as they passed the last of the overgrowth and entered a clearing. Ron felt a tingle at the back of his neck as the structure he’d heard so much about was now before his eyes. It slowly morphed into dread.
“Fuck,” Jake muttered. “It’s huge.”
A three plank wooden fence marked the edge of what had once been a large grass yard. While some boards had rotted and fallen from their posts, it was mostly intact, effectively stopping the truck at a gate which was kept closed by a thick chain, padlocked.
“The wire cutters we brought aren’t going to cut through that,” Jake said, stopping the vehicle.
The Coldwater Haunting Page 27