Soul Search: A Zackie Story

by Reyna Favis

  “Er, we never explicitly discussed this,” began Cam, “but can we also have Zackie blurred out? She’s a rather distinctive looking dog…”

  “Really?” Lucas said, “The dog? Really?”

  “Please,” I chimed in. “Cam has a point. People in the search community would know her on sight.”

  “Should I also distort her bark?” Lucas asked, dripping with sarcasm.

  “Well, that would probably be best,” Cam answered stone faced.

  Lucas was nonplussed and looked at us as if we’d lost our minds. We stared back and shuffled our feet a little, only slightly embarrassed that we were putting him in a tough position with his producers. He had to film something, after all. After a long moment, Lucas scrubbed his face with his free hand and finally said, “Fine. We’ll blur her.”

  Zackie took the moment of agreement to start sneezing. She then shook herself several times before pushing through the group and heading up stairs. “She’s clearing the scent from her system,” Cam explained as he followed her. “She does that when the scent is thick on something and she wants to move on.”

  We charged up the stairs in time to see Zackie perform a door ID on the first room on the left. Standing on her hind legs, she slammed the door with her front paws. Just like on a search, she was indicating that her subject was on the other side of the door and she wanted to get into that room. I cautiously cracked opened the door and Zackie squeezed past me. The rest of us stood warily outside as Lucas kept up the play by play narrative and informed his viewers that we were experiencing a terrible odor emanating from the room. He ordered the crew to go to night vision and turn the lights off.

  Moderating my breathing so as not to inhale the stench too deeply, I opened the door fully and stepped into the room. Cam was on my heels and the film crew crowded around the doorway. Zackie had her front feet on the bed and had flung a pillow to the floor in her pawing. She was nosing back the covers as I stepped lightly behind her to see things from her vantage point. A woman with a child clutched to her breast lay on the bed. Both were grievously wounded, with blood flowing from jagged cuts and punctures on their heads and upper bodies. The child reached a bloody hand towards Zackie and the dog responded by inching closer and touching the little hand with her muzzle. The mother lifted the little girl towards the dog and I heard the words ‘Please, oh please!’ echo in my head. Grabbing the child’s white nightgown in her teeth, Zackie pulled the little girl from the mother’s arms and bounded off the bed, half carrying and half dragging her towards the far corner of the room. Cam and I immediately turned away and shielded our eyes.

  Standing just inside the doorway, Lucas panned a camera across the room and uttered an exclamation as he reported detecting a small flash of light through the camera’s viewer. With his lens trained toward the far corner of the room, he did not see the gathering of a dark and oily mass near the ceiling. It was roiling like a thunder cloud and both Cam and I instinctively raised our hands in defense as we turned to face this threat. The mother’s deafening screams reverberated in my head and I covered my ears even though that did nothing. She levitated above the bed, all her limbs kicking and striking out to protect herself. Cam shouted ‘No!’as her arms and legs were ripped from her body. The force of the dismemberment sent her limbs flying in every direction and her screaming went on and on. She would not have the mercy of death, only the torment that accompanies it.

  We had no time to help her as the bed now rose and crashed against a wall, pinning Cam behind it. The metal frame split from the impact and jagged pieces broke off and would have killed Cam, but I aimed my energy against these and forced them to the floor. As an old dresser shifted towards the doorway, I caught the movement out of the corner of my eye and threw my energy against it to prevent the crew from being injured. It shattered harmlessly against the door frame, but I could not react quickly enough to shield myself from the splintered wood now directed towards me. The front piece of a drawer caught me in the temple and I went down, seeing flashes of light. I could feel blood dripping down my face and I thought crazily that Joel would be unhappy to learn that I wasn’t short enough. I was on my hands and knees, trying to crawl away and blinded by the blood in my eyes. Another object struck me in the side and I rolled with the force of the blow. As I curled up to protect myself, I tried to focus beyond the pain and strike out at the entity. Just as I was about to lash out, something heavy hit me in the back and my ribs shattered. Writhing in pain, I felt someone – Lucas – cover me with his body against the maelstrom of flying wood and metal. Shielded, I rallied my defenses and fought back, knowing I was fighting for my life. I struck out at the dark mass with all the pain in my body and for the first time in this battle, it took a hit. Not letting up, I pounded and pounded away with my mind as I felt my body being dragged out the door. The entity was weakening. Even injured, I believed I was stronger than this thing and I could feel it retreat as I aimed blow after blow into its center. At last, it was gone. As soon as I’m better, I promised myself, I’m going to hunt this thing and tear it into bits. Maybe in a hundred years, it will find all its parts and make itself whole again and I hoped that there would be enough of me left after that time to do it again.

  As the rage dissipated, I could feel Lucas holding me and wiping the blood from my face. He was muttering something, telling me he’d take care of me and that I’d be all right. Maybe it was shock, but cradled against his chest, for the first time in my life, I actually felt safe. Looking at the concern in his gray eyes, I felt a spark of connection, but I couldn’t or wouldn’t give it credence. Instead, I said, “Is Cam all right?” I didn’t hear the response. I was fighting to stay conscious. Right before passing out, I managed to say, “I was sucker punched, you know.”

  CHAPTER 11

  The smell of disinfectant filled my nostrils and I turned my head to try to find some fresh air. Turning too far to my right hurt. I forced my eyes open and looked around to get my bearings. I lay on a gurney and a light blue curtain created a small perimeter of privacy around me. My hand touched the gauze bandage at my temple and I felt a tug of pain from my back as I made this little move. I was exhausted and I think I fell asleep again.

  “Can you hear me?” I heard Lucas say. He was a little fuzzy, but he was there next to the gurney. As he came into focus, I noticed a dusky purple bruise on his cheek. “Do you know where you are?”

  “Yeah, I’m in the hospital. Probably the ER,” I muttered. “Where’s Cam?”

  “Cam’s been admitted. He had a severe break in his arm and he’s going to need surgery for it to heal properly.” Lucas looked at me with a furrowed brow and both his eyes and lips slanted downward. He would not quite meet my gaze as he said, “I am so very sorry this happened to you. It’s completely my fault.”

  “It’s not your fault,” I murmured. “We would have gone into that house with or without your film crew.” I felt so weak. Just talking was taking it out of me.

  He went on as if he hadn’t heard me. “They think you may have a concussion or possibly an intracranial hemorrhage. You lost consciousness for a while and wouldn’t come out of it. They’re going to give you a CT scan.” He swallowed hard and then raked his hair back and away from his eyes. “Your ribs are broken and you have stitches,” he pointed towards his right temple. He gestured with an upturned palm as if he were going to say more, but then just dropped both his hands to his sides and remained quiet for a minute. “I’m sorry,” he finally said again.

  “I’m not concussed,” I told him. My voice was weak and I could barely get the words out. “I’m just drained. I’ve been through this before.” I did not tell him that it was never this bad before. But a CT scan wasn’t going to help me. All these tests were just going to cost me. The greater worry was spending more time in a hospital in my debilitated state. I had nothing left to build a defense and I was apprehensive about all the dead roving the halls in this place. Trying to sit up, I said, “I can’t afford this.”


  Lucas put his hand on my shoulder and gently urged me to lie down. “The show will pay for your medical expenses. Don’t worry about that,” he said. His hand was warm and my skin tingled where he touched me. His eyes showed concern and as I gazed at him, I thought that the eyeliner he was forced to wear for the show really did him a disservice. The thick, dark lashes complemented the silver gray of his irises and he needed no artificial enhancement to make his eyes beautiful. I felt like weeping because I was weak in so many ways in that moment. I should not be noticing these things about him. Giving in to the failure of my body was the least of all sins, so I closed my eyes and let myself drift off.

  It was dark and I was no longer in the ER when I woke again. I sensed that I was not alone and there was a moment of panic. My companion did not feel human. As I struggled to rise, I felt the pull of an IV in my arm and heard a faint clicking sound on the linoleum that was somehow familiar. Something wet and cold touched my exposed thigh and I shrank away from this surprise. When Zackie’s head emerged into my field of view, I expelled a breath of relief. There was some additional clicking of her nails on the floor as she positioned herself and leaped into the bed with me. She must have been under the bed keeping vigil and I felt a wave of gratitude for her protection from the wandering dead.

  “Thank you,” I said to her, uncertain about how to proceed. I reached out to her with all my senses as I tried to make deeper contact. “But what about Cam?”

  She cocked her head and gave me an unwavering stare. I gasped and my head rocked back as my mind flooded with images, scents, sounds and emotions. She was funneling down an animal’s integrative awareness combined with an immortal’s perspective to something plainer and less rich, but my brain felt like it was sizzling on a hot grill. I could not manage the information content even though I was careful to go slowly as I sorted through. I felt a sharp pain behind my right eye as I assembled the pieces that said that Cam was all right. He could fend for himself. This was a relief to me. I would hate it if my incapacity diverted Zackie’s attention and left him unprotected. I already failed him once back at the house and it almost killed him. These dark thoughts and feelings of inadequacy gnawed at me and I wanted to see for myself that he was truly all right.

  Rubbing my eye, I croaked. “Can we go and see him?”

  Taking mercy on me, Zackie looked up and pointed her muzzle to the open door. The sound of someone approaching reached my ears. The nurses would come and check on me soon. We’d have to wait.

  “Is Lucas with Hannah?” I asked her, not sure if she would know the answer to that one and really not wanting to engage the full communication channel again. My head was starting to pound and I was feeling a little nauseous.

  She turned her head slightly and looked at me from the corner of her eyes. Her paw slapped me gently on my good arm as she made a quiet ‘Ymmmph’ sound. Was this really my concern? I suppose it wasn’t and my face reddened as I looked away. As I pressed my fingers harder against my throbbing right eye and took deep breaths against the rising nausea, I felt the mattress rustle as Zackie departed and tucked herself under the bed just before a nurse walked in.

  “You’re awake,” she said as she grabbed my chart. “That’s good. My name is Martha. How are you feeling?”

  “Better,” I said, surprised that this was true despite the Zackie-inspired symptoms. “I still feel a little tired and achy, but I’m otherwise okay.” No sense complaining about the newest symptoms, since I knew these would stop as soon as I stopped trying to communicate with Zackie.

  “Good,” Martha said again as she checked my vitals and updated my chart. “You don’t have a concussion or any other brain injury, but your ribs are broken and you have some stitches on your head. We won’t do anything for the ribs and just let them heal on their own, so just take it easy for a while, okay? Your major problem is that your electrolytes are really whacky. The pharmacy had to do a special mix for your IV. Never seen anything like it…”

  She raised her eyebrows and let the sentence hang to see if I would explain myself, but the best I could do was express consternation. “Huh,” I said. Not exactly erudite, but there was nothing I could say that would make any sense to her.

  Shrugging her shoulders noncommittally, she continued. “I’m going to draw some blood to test your current levels, okay?” I nodded and presented the arm with the IV. A cannula was in place that greatly simplified things for both of us. Before she took the blood, she checked the hospital bracelet and asked me to verify my name and date of birth. Wishing me a good night, Martha walked briskly out the door to her next patient, narrowly missing the young man with a Y incision on his chest. Thankfully, both continued walking down the hall unaware of each other.

  Ignoring the nausea and pain in my head, I pushed out of the bed and looked for an obvious place where they might have stored my clothes. The closet seemed like a good bet and I dragged my IV stand over to it to have a look. Zackie crawled out from under the bed and stuck her nose in the closet as I opened it. Inside, I found my clothes and more importantly, my cell phone was still in the cargo pocket of the pants. I called the restaurant and the newspaper to leave messages, so they had a fighting chance of finding replacements for the next few days. Next, I searched the nightstand for another hospital gown. I first found a pair of socks with non-slip treads in the drawer and immediately put the fuzzy footwear on my cold feet. Continuing to rummage, I finally found a spare gown and put it on carefully to avoid disturbing the IV tubing, positioning the closed side of the new gown to cover the open back of the one I was wearing. Feeling much more secure, I grabbed the stand with my fluids and wheeled it towards the door.

  “Zackie, we need to go to Cam.” Zackie immediately took point and paused at the door frame to check for the scent of anyone coming our way. Having determined that the coast was clear, we hurried down the hall towards the elevators. A man at the nurse’s station was preoccupied with a phone call and had his back to us as we passed. The faint ding as the elevator opened did not draw his attention and Zackie and I stepped aboard.

  “What floor?” I needed the information, but I was cringing and trying to ready myself for the onslaught from her mind. My brain felt like it was bleeding and scorched after she communicated his location to me. I absently touch my nose, thinking that there must be blood dripping. We rode up five floors, emerged from the elevator and headed down the hallway, avoiding the nurse’s station. I followed Zackie into a darkened room and spotted Cam sitting up in a bed with his left arm suspended by a cuff that attached to a Rube Goldberg contraption involving cables, a weight and some pulleys. I pulled the door partially closed, so that our voices wouldn’t travel. Zackie gently balanced her front feet on Cam’s bed and he touched her head affectionately with his good hand.

  “About time,” he said as Zackie withdrew to lie on the floor. “What took you so long?”

  “Oh, you know, the usual,” I said trying to keep it light. Careful with my back and the IV, I sat gingerly in a chair near his bed and tried to normalize. “How’s the arm?”

  “Peachy,” he growled. “They’ll operate tomorrow and put a metal rod in.” Cam was grumpier than usual and this worried me. Maybe the break was worse than he was letting on. I should have done a better job protecting him from the entity’s attack. We both looked away and did not speak for a spell.

  Wanting to break the silence, I finally asked Cam, “How did Lucas explain our injuries to the EMTs and hospital staff?”

  “He said we were filming in an old, dilapidated house and a structure gave way.” He shrugged. “They seemed to buy it.”

  The sheets rustled slightly as Cam used his good hand to fiddle with them. Finally looking up, he took in the bandage, the bruises and the IV. “I’ve made a right mess of things,” he said softly. “I did not protect you properly.”

  “I thought I was the body guard,” I tried to joke. I didn’t want him to feel responsible for what happened to us. I really was the superior fighter when it
came to subduing the agitated and unruly dead. It was my responsibility to protect the team. Zackie snorted as she sensed my thoughts and I looked crossly at her. Well, sure, maybe she could have done something more effective, but I was there at the time of the attack and she was not. The blame still fell squarely on my shoulders.

  “You could have used some help,” Cam explained. “I wish I could have done more to control that entity, but being pinned to the wall by the bed crushed my arm. Things would have been worse, but the mattress absorbed a good deal of the force. Still, I’m sorry. I could not focus through the pain to lend you any help.”

  “It should never have come to that,” I replied. “I should have been on guard for the attack, but I was paying attention to the wrong thing. I was wrapped up in the agony of that poor woman….” My thoughts wandered back to that traumatic moment and I shuddered.

  “The entity was furious that we got the little girl away,” Cam said slowly, recalling the experience. “I think the entity may be at least part of the reason that the others cannot move on.” He paused and frowned. “I would have liked to help that poor woman…We should have done better.” Eventually, Cam waved his good hand, ready to let it go. “We can go round and round with the self-blame game,” he sighed. Zackie snorted again at this comment and Cam rolled his eyes at her. “Yes, yes, we both suck. Thanks so much, Zackie.” Bringing his attention back to me, he said, “Anyway, it’s clear that this entity behaved in a non-random way. This was not your typical poltergeist phenomenon. It was tactically brilliant in how it distracted and inflicted damage. There was intelligence and deliberation behind the attack. I think it learned from the first attack in the field how we work together, so it took a divide and conquer strategy.” He paused and gathered his thoughts before continuing. “Another thing that emerged from this encounter is that you appear to have a bit of the berserker in you.”