3 Ghosts of Our Fathers

by Michael Richan

  “I’m leaving to go meet Jason,” Steven said. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  Steven took the two Mason jars and left.

  -

  When Steven saw Jason, he was immediately concerned. Jason was just an inch shorter than him, but thinner and more muscular. He had blonde hair, blue eyes, and a dimpled chin that drove girls crazy. Jason had always been a good kid, a mother’s boy, kind to everyone and everyone liked him back. His success in soccer helped him with a scholarship to the university and he always seemed healthy and fit. Not today.

  Steven inspected the bruises on Jason’s neck. At first he thought they might be hickeys but upon closer inspection he could see they went all the way around his neck, even to the back. Jason was clearing his throat often and seemed run down and tired.

  “Tell me what happened,” Steven said.

  Jason shifted from foot to foot while his dad continued inspecting his neck. “I thought someone was playing a prank,” he said. “I was dreaming I couldn’t breathe. I woke up and found this. I thought maybe one of my roommates had snuck in and strangled me as a joke.”

  “This is no joke,” Steven said. “Does it hurt?”

  “Yes,” Jason said, “every time I swallow, and when I turn my head to the extreme right or left.”

  Standing behind Jason, Steven surreptitiously dropped into the flow and watched the bruises for any unusual sign, any shifting of the skin that might mimic the strange movement he’d seen on his own skin. There didn’t appear to be any. He exited the flow quickly. The effect had disappeared on his own skin after a short while following the attack, so it might have already passed on Jason too.

  “You don’t remember anything? Any one in the room with you? A man? Glass?”

  “Glass?” Jason said. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’ve had the same problem, the last three nights. My sleep has been disturbed. But I woke up to see what it was, while it was happening. I was attacked.” Steven pulled his collar down to show Jason the bruising on his neck. “I believe the same person attacked you.”

  “What?” Jason said. “How can that be? Who?”

  “The who and the why are long stories that aren’t relevant at the moment. The main thing to know is that you, I, and your grandfather, Roy, are all under attack.”

  “Under attack? What are you talking about?” Jason was looking at Steven funny, concerned that his father had gone off his rocker.

  “Let me put it this way,” Steven said, stopping to take a breath. “An ancestor of ours committed a crime against this man, or so he thinks, and he’s exacting revenge by coming after Roy, myself, and you. Roy and I are working on a way to stop him. Until we do, this is a dangerous threat, and I believe our lives are at risk. I’m going to need you to do a few things to protect yourself.”

  “I’ve already got a shotgun, Dad,” Jason said.

  Like grandfather, like son, Steven thought.

  “A shotgun won’t work on this guy,” Steven said. “You’ll need to do a few other things.”

  “What kind of guy won’t a shotgun work on?” Jason asked.

  How far do I go? Steven thought. Do I tell him exactly what this guy is?

  “You’re going to have to trust me,” Steven said. “A shotgun isn’t going to work.”

  Jason turned his head skeptically towards Steven. He knew his father had never been a big fan of guns. Steven saw the skepticism.

  “Believe me,” Steven said, “if I thought a shotgun would work, I would have already tried it. I wouldn’t hesitate to use it.”

  “I wonder if Grandpa Roy would feel the same way,” Jason said, aware that Steven’s father was a gun enthusiast.

  “I’ve talked with your grandpa about it. He agrees with me.”

  Jason didn’t look convinced, but Steven continued anyway.

  “Both he and I need you to protect yourself with some things I’m going to give you. The first is this,” Steven said, pointing to the two Mason jars on the table between them. “Listen to me and follow my instructions exactly. I want you to swallow two big mouthfuls of this just before you go to bed. Set your alarm for four hours and get up and take another two mouthfuls. You got that?”

  “What’s it do?” Jason asked, eyeing the containers.

  “It’s going to make it harder for this guy to touch you, to harm your neck,” Steven said.

  Jason didn’t respond. He continued to look skeptically at the jars.

  “The other thing,” Steven said, retrieving the rectangular object from his pocket, “is this. I want you to wrap this against your arm using Ace bandages while you’re sleeping. It’s important that it be close to your body and in a place where no one can take it from you, like your roommates. Please don’t show it to them. No one should know about it or the liquid, either. They’re the only things standing between you and this guy until I and your grandpa can figure out how to deal with him.”

  Steven caught himself using the same euphemism he’d criticized Daniel for using. Didn’t want to use the work ‘kill’ in front of your own son? he asked himself.

  Jason looked at his father. “What’s going on?” he asked. “This isn’t you. I know you. You don’t believe in this kind of voodoo shit. Grandpa maybe, but not you.”

  ‘Grandpa maybe?’ Steven thought. What does Jason already know about Roy?

  “Would it make you happier if you heard it from your grandpa?” Steven said. “We can call him. He’ll tell you the same thing.”

  “No,” Jason said. “We don’t need to call him. I want to know why you are telling me this. This isn’t you.”

  Do I tell him now? Steven wondered. This could go off rails so easily. I’d rather tell him when we’re not in the middle of a crisis. Steven decided to punt.

  “I need to get back to Roy’s and work with him on this, try to get it solved,” he said. “The main thing I need to know is that you’ll do as I’ve asked. Keep the object safe and on you with the bandage, and drink the protection.”

  Whoops, Steven thought. Wonder if he’ll catch that.

  “Sure, I’ll do it,” Jason said, “on one condition.”

  “What’s that?”

  “When you get it figured out with grandpa, you both tell me what was really going on. The whole story.”

  Steven knew he couldn’t lie to his son if he agreed. Jason wanting to know seemed the element he was most worried about. Since Jason had put this option on the table he decided to take it.

  “Yes,” Steven said, “we’ll do that.”

  “OK then,” Jason said. “I’m going back to my apartment.” He slipped the rectangular object into his coat pocket and looked at the Mason jars.

  “Do not let anyone else drink that,” Steven said. “It may taste like booze but trust me it’s far more than that, and it’s difficult to come by.”

  “I won’t,” Jason said. “I’ll hide it from my roommates.”

  “Come here,” Steven said, extending his arms. Jason rolled his eyes but let his father wrap him in a big hug. “I love you and want you to be safe. Make sure you do as I’ve said.”

  “I will,” Jason said. Once Steven released him, he took the Mason jars and headed for the door.

  Chapter Eight

  Steven pulled the car up to the address Daniel had obtained from Garth. He, Roy, and Daniel stared out, looking for the garage of Garth’s story. It was nowhere to be seen.

  In its place was a small strip mall with a couple of businesses. Next door was a church.

  “Well, it’s been eighty years,” Steven said. “What were the odds it would still be here?”

  “Looks like they weren’t good,” Roy said. “I expect the boy was forced to move, and he probably didn’t want to move far. Ghosts never do if they can help it. Can you figure out exactly where the garage might have stood?”

  Steven scanned the strip mall for numbers. “The number on this salon on the end is the same number Garth gave me. So there’s a good chance it’s s
itting where the house used to be.”

  “Based on the story from Garth,” Daniel said, “the garage would be maybe fifty feet from where the house stood.”

  “That would place it either in that pizzeria,” Roy said, “in the church, or in whatever is behind the salon.”

  “I’ll see if there’s an alley,” Steven said, moving the car. They circled the block, checking the spot from all angles.

  “Nothing behind but asphalt,” Daniel said. “It’s either the pizzeria or the church.”

  “My money’s on the church,” Roy said, “but I am hungry.”

  Steven parked the car and the three walked into the pizzeria and took a booth. A friendly waitress with an exaggerated lilt to her voice took their order and they discussed their plan.

  “Let’s scan the whole place, wander around,” Roy said. “Look for anything that might seem unusual. I’m going to guess the boy, if he’s still here, likes to live under things, so look for piles of stuff.”

  One by one they rose from the table and walked around, checking out the rest of the restaurant, the restrooms, the back exit, and a janitorial closet. Roy stuck his head into the kitchen. The others could hear him talking with the kitchen staff.

  Reconvening at the table, Daniel and Steven waited for Roy to return.

  “Is he on a bathroom break?” Daniel asked.

  “I expect he’s trancing in there,” Steven said. “I’m not exactly sure how we’re supposed to figure out where this ghost might be from just visual clues. For all we know from just looking around, he might be haunting this booth. A trance might help narrow things down.”

  The food arrived as Roy returned. The men chowed down on the pizza.

  “Well?” Steven said between bites.

  “Not here,” Roy said. “But the church is a good possibility. Something’s in the basement there.”

  Steven paused eating for a moment so he could enter the flow. He rose from the table and hovered over the restaurant. He could see nothing. Then he moved over to the church. He couldn’t see anything there either. He left the River.

  “You must have tranced to figure that out,” Steven told Roy. “I can’t see anything in the flow.”

  “I did,” Roy said. “And it’s well camouflaged, let me tell you. That boy does not want to be found.”

  “We’ll need to be in physical proximity of him to interact with him,” Steven said, remembering his experience with Roy in Oregon. It was easier to detect ghosts while in a trance, and sometimes one could see them from within the River, but they would only respond if you were physically there with them.

  “Let’s finish this pizza and go over there, see how the land lies,” Roy said.

  Roy took one more bite and was up and out of the booth, leaving Daniel and Steven to take care of the rest of the food and the bill.

  “He moves quickly, doesn’t he?” Daniel said, smiling. “Barrels right in.”

  “He’s the old man and half the time I have trouble keeping up with him,” Steven said. “Be prepared to just go along with whatever story he might concoct.”

  They rose and left the restaurant, leaving some cash at the table. As they turned to walk toward the church they saw Roy already halfway there, headed for the back of the building. By the time they reached the front of the church, Roy had already scoped out the building’s exterior and met them at the entrance.

  “Two exits in the back if we need to break in,” Roy said.

  “Why don’t we try just walking in the front door first?” Steven asked.

  “Just planning ahead,” Roy said, smiling. They walked up a short flight of stairs and opened the door to the church.

  It was dark inside. The entryway opened up into a chapel with rows of pews. In the distance on a dais there was an altar and an organ. Light shone into the chapel at the far right, where an open door let fluorescent light stream in. “An office,” Roy said. “Let’s try there. Follow my lead.”

  They walked through the dark chapel and towards the open office door. As they approached it Steven could see metal desks and filing cabinets. Inside was a small woman, rotund, with black hair and very vivid makeup.

  “Hello?” Roy said as he entered.

  “Oh, hello,” came the reply from the woman, rising from her desk and walking towards Roy. “How can I help you?”

  “My name is Hill and these are my associates, Mr. Youngman and Mr. Smith,” Roy told her, pointing out Steven and Daniel respectively. At least he left the ‘Henny’ out this time, Steven thought.

  “Pleased to meet all of you,” the woman said politely.

  “I’m writing a book on historical churches in the area, and these are my assistants on the project,” Roy said.

  “Oh, how wonderful!” the woman replied.

  “You are?” Roy asked.

  “Mrs. Peterson. Judith,” she said. “Are you interested in our church?”

  “Well, yes, I am,” Roy said. “It looks to me like it might have a history that would be appropriate for my book. But I have to tell you, I couldn’t find out much about it on the internet. So I thought I’d come down and visit and see if someone might be able to help me learn more about it, to see if it’s right for the book.”

  “Oh, I’m sure the pastor would love to have our church in your book,” she said. “Membership has been on the decline I’m afraid, and anything that might help bring in more parishioners would be very helpful.”

  “Well, that’s fantastic,” Roy said. “You’d be surprised how some churches don’t want to cooperate to the extent that’s necessary in order to be written about in a detailed historical account.” Roy gave her a big smile. “When was the church built?”

  “Nineteen forty-eight, just after the war,” she said. “Before that, this was just a residential area, and before that, farmland. We’ve had twenty-two pastors here since it was built. Jeremy Wayne is our current pastor.”

  “Would he be available for an interview sometime?” Roy asked.

  “It would be a while,” Judith replied. “He’s currently in Africa on a mission. We have an assistant pastor who’s giving the Sunday services, but as I said there’s not many church members right now so the pews are pretty empty on Sundays.”

  “Why so few members?” Roy asked. “This looks like a beautiful church.”

  “That’s the question we ask ourselves every day,” Judith said. “We’ve tried everything over the years.”

  “So it’s been a problem for a while?” Roy asked.

  “Oh yes, this church has struggled for as long as I’ve known it,” she said. “It wouldn’t surprise me if it’s struggled since it was built. I donate my time to keep the office in order for Pastor Wayne since he is such a caring and thoughtful man, truly doing the Lord’s work. But keeping the church going has been difficult.”

  “I wonder if the church has records of membership?” Roy asked. “From the past? That I might examine for the book?”

  “Well, yes we do,” Judith said. “And I’d be happy to let you examine them, but…”

  She looked worried. “Yes?” Roy prompted her.

  “…but they’re down in the basement and I’m afraid I don’t have access to that area.”

  Steven watched the wheels in Roy’s mind turning.

  “Oh, it’s blocked off or something?” Roy said.

  “Locked up,” she said. “Pastor Wayne has the only key. He left instructions to not go into the basement without him.” She gave an uncomfortable laugh. “To be honest with you, that’s perfectly fine with me. I’ve been in the basement twice, and it’s a little creepy.”

  “I wonder what information about the history of the church would be down there as opposed to up here, where we might peruse it?” Roy asked.

  “Most of it is down there,” she said. “So I suppose what I can do is take your number and have Pastor Wayne give you a call when he returns, so he can set an appointment with you to access it.”

  “When does he get back?” Roy asked.


  “Next month, around the 20th. I’ll make sure he calls you.”

  “Tell you what,” Roy said, “that should work out fine. I’m planning on being back in the area at the end of next month, and I’ll stop back in and see if he’s available. You’ve been very helpful, Judith. I think your little church here might make a wonderful addition to my book.”

  Judith blushed a little, although it was hard to tell under the makeup. “Well, I’m delighted to help. I’ll tell Pastor Wayne you stopped by once he gets back. I’m sure he’ll be excited to participate.”

  Roy turned to leave, and Steven and Daniel followed suit. They walked back through the dark chapel, and as they left through the main doors, they heard Judith say, “thanks again.”

  The door closed behind them. Roy turned to Steven and Daniel. “We’ll jimmy the back door. There’s no alarm system.”

  -

  They waited until it was dark. They chose a door that wasn’t facing the street and was partially hidden by a tree and shrubs, intended only as an emergency exit. It led to a short hallway behind the dais. Steven used a flashlight to navigate to the end of the hall where there was a door secured with a padlock.

  “Great, now what?” Daniel said.

  Roy placed the crowbar behind the hinge holding the lock and pried the hinge out of the door. It left holes where the screws had been.

  “They’re going to know who broke in,” Steven said. “It’ll be obvious, we were just here asking about the basement.”

  Roy produced a bottle of wood glue. “We’re going to glue it back in place. She’s too scared of here to come check anything before the pastor returns. By the time he gets back, this glue will have set it back in place.”

  Steven seemed skeptical but the deed was already done. Roy turned the handle and the door opened to a wooden staircase that descended into darkness.

  “Here we go, boys,” Roy said. Steven shone the flashlight down the steps and started down.

  It was obvious the basement hadn’t seen visitors in a while. Cobwebs were plentiful. It was half finished with wooden floorboards and walls. Steven found a pull cord to turn on a bare bulb overhead. The room was thick with dust.