End of the Road (Ghost Stories Trilogy #1)

by E. J. Fechenda

  I had never told the others this story. I’d always feared rejection after revealing this dark truth. How helpless I had been as I watched my brother sink, his arms outstretched before him. He drifted further away into the depths of the freezing cold water. Elena relayed my story to Gavin and she was crying towards the end.

  I finished and after a few moments of silence, Elena wiped her eyes, cleared her throat and said, “Bob, you were twelve, what happened wasn’t your fault, just a horrible accident.”

  “I want to believe that, but the blame and guilt are a part of me now.”

  Elena shook her head and pushed off of the hood of the car where she had been sitting.

  She dusted off her bottom and turned to Gavin, who had been leaning against the car next to her listening as she repeated my story to him. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah that was...Bob, thank you for sharing that with me,” the kid said. Since he couldn’t see me, he wasn’t actually anywhere near me, so I moved into his line of sight. “It seems we both have our burdens to bear.”

  “I just hope you don’t let yours dictate your life.”

  Elena told Gavin this and he nodded, “Same here.”

  Chapter Sixty-Eight

  ELENA

  Gavin squatted down and grabbed the video camera from the black case. “Should we get started?” he asked, looking up at me through hair that hung over his eyes. I nodded, but eyed the camera warily. “Relax, this is just for class and my professor agreed to have all students sign a non-disclosure agreement. I can get copies of them, if you like?”

  “Okay.”

  Gavin snapped the camera case closed before standing. “Good. I was thinking about taking some trial footage, just to see if we capture anything.”

  I turned to face the ghosts and asked them to channel as much energy as possible. Within moments they were standing in front of me as dimensional and solid as real people. I told Gavin where to direct the camera only for him to respond with, “What the hell?” He lightly shook the camera.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “The battery is dead and I know it was fully charged. When I first turned it on it showed all cells.” He powered down the camera and turned it on again. The red low battery light flashed on the display so he bent down and retrieved the back-up out of the case. “Here we go.” He started filming, but less than five minutes later the battery was once again dead.

  Gavin switched to the digital camera. Since I was just observing at this point and directing him on where to shoot, I noticed that when the batteries started to fade, the ghosts flickered and weakened.

  “Wait a minute. Frank, how do you channel energy again?”

  “I don’t know - we draw from the energy around us. Lightning really packs a punch.”

  “Huh. Hey Gavin, I think I know why the batteries are getting drained so fast.” I told him what Frank said. “They must be drawing energy off of the devices.”

  “That makes sense and I’ve seen it happen on ghost hunting shows, but didn’t know if it was real.”

  While we didn’t make a ton of progress that day, at least we learned to bring plenty of batteries.

  ***

  In the following weeks, my life took on a frantic pattern where work and double espresso fueled research sessions with Gavin took over. On more than one night shift I had to stop and nap in my cruiser during my allotted 30-minute break. I’d pull into a deserted strip mall and park in the shadows of the building so nobody would spot me sleeping.

  I had Sundays and Mondays off, not having to report until later Tuesday night so Gavin came up from Tempe on Sunday mornings. If I was lucky, I was able to squeeze five hours of sleep in before he arrived around noon and I’d wake up to let him in. He always was weighed down with his duffel bag and the film equipment he borrowed from the university.

  We had a routine. He’d set his stuff down on the sofa, next to the pillow and sleeping bag I set out for him while I got the coffee going. Then he’d start to go over notes and outline an agenda for the day, giving me time to shower and get ready. After the first couple of sessions, I was getting used to being filmed. It was a great way to document our communication with the ghosts. Since they weren’t visible on film, we recorded their written responses to our questions instead. Through various techniques Gavin authenticated the process. He moved the camera around to show there weren’t any invisible threads, like fishing line, used to manipulate the sticks that the ghost wrote with. He was careful to use time and date-stamps as a way to debunk any potential editing claims later.

  We were making progress too. Since Bob opened up to us about his brother, he was more cooperative and able to provide a detailed description of the old slaughterhouse where he was shot. He couldn’t recall the exact location, but gave us enough information and surrounding landmarks that I was able to pinpoint the likely area.

  Georgia wrote down the painful details of her rape and described the men in the van, providing particular detail about the man who raped her. At one point she dropped the stick and rocked back, hugging her knees to her chest. I explained this to Gavin since he couldn’t see her. Georgia wailed into her arms and flickered with each sob. I sat down next to her and attempted to put my arm around her shoulders, but it just passed right through. The air around her was cold and gave me goose bumps. I showed Gavin and he zoomed in on my skin’s reaction. Peggy was able to comfort Georgia and after a few heaving breaths, she picked up the stick and continued with her story. What Gavin documented on film, I wrote down in detailed notes and photographed with a digital camera.

  Gavin was easy to work with and carried himself with more maturity than I had expected. He was definitely more serious than my brother, but losing Tobin had left a deep mark. I hoped this process would provide the closure he sought.

  It was late in the afternoon one Monday and when we finished filming I suggested we go out for dinner. He agreed and I watched as he meticulously wiped dust off of his camera and packed it up in its cushioned case.

  “What are you in the mood for?” I asked.

  “A burger will be fine.”

  I knew just the place off Courthouse Square in Prescott, a local brew pub. We hit traffic and the drive took longer than planned. Gavin fell asleep, his head resting against the window. He had a slight smile on his face and seemed peaceful. I knew this project was eating up a lot of his time. The shadows under his eyes were almost as dark as mine. He should be out at frat parties and picking up girls, but instead he’s here with me, I thought to myself and shook my head.

  The restaurant was busy and we followed the hostess to a small booth located in the rear, near the restrooms. We immediately ordered beers and once our server was out of earshot, we started talking about our project.

  “I think we’re going around in circles here, Gavin,” I said. “We can do all the research and talk to the ghosts all we want, but how are we going to get them to crossover?”

  “I don’t know. How about using a Ouija board?”

  Annoyed, I narrowed my eyes at him and he burst out laughing. “Just kidding!” He winked at me and I laughed with him. For a usually solemn and reserved guy he did surprise me with an occasional goofy moment.

  “There is someone at school I think you should meet. She might have the answers.”

  “Really?”

  Gavin started to tell me when our server returned with our beers. We placed our dinner orders and waited for her to leave again. We leaned towards each other across the table and Gavin, keeping his voice low, continued.

  “My ex-girlfriend is a psych major and she told me that one of her professors works closely with a medium.”

  “Ex-girlfriend?”

  “Yeah, but we’re cool. It wasn’t a dramatic break-up, we’re better off as friends. She might know how to help and get in touch with the medium too – if you’re interested?”

  “I don’t know, maybe?” I reminded Gavin how the psychic the newswoman had brought to the scene was a fraud.


  “There are a lot of frauds, but apparently this medium is legit.”

  I was hesitant about involving anyone else, but we weren’t any closer to helping the ghosts. Now that I’d gotten to know them, I wanted to make it work. This was more than feeling obligated because they helped me.

  In an uncharacteristic move, Gavin reached across and put his hand over mine. “I know you’re worried. Just think about it,” he said.

  Gavin’s hand was still over mine when Eric walked by our table. Since my back was to him, I didn’t see him coming. He sure took notice of us and came to a halt, glancing down at our hands. I quickly withdrew mine and sat up straight.

  “Eric, this is Gavin. He’s Cruz’s friend from school I told you about? He’s helping with my project. Gavin, this is Eric.” They shook hands. Eric appraising the man I was sharing the table with as if we were sharing a bed. Gavin’s shoulders hunched in and he drew inwards, like he wanted to shrink into the booth. Seriously? I asked myself.

  “What are you doing here, Eric? Stalking me?” I smiled up at him.

  “Watching the game at the bar and I had to use the bathroom.” He pointed at the men’s room door, which was less than ten feet away from our table.

  “Oh, right.”

  “But, since you’re here, I do want to talk to you.” Eric sat down next to me and I scooted over on the bench. “I did some digging into Georgia’s case file.”

  He might as well have told me he was getting a sex change. The fact that he was researching Georgia’s case completely threw me. Who was this man sitting next to me?

  “Turns out DNA had been collected at the scene. They started doing this in the late sixties knowing technology was advancing. Unfortunately there’s such a backlog and Georgia’s case is so old, it will be years if it is even ever processed. The sample might not even be viable anymore because of degradation and all.”

  “Is there anything we can do?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. I’ll ask around and will let you know.”

  “Thanks, Eric. Really.”

  “You got it.” He leaned over and kissed my cheek before getting up.

  I turned and watched him walk back to the bar. Sure enough a couple of the guys were watching one of the baseball playoff games. Since the Diamondbacks weren’t playing, I had zero interest in joining them. It was only after Eric sat down on a bar stool that I realized he hadn’t used the bathroom.

  “I didn’t realize someone else knows about the ghosts?” Gavin asked.

  “Sorry – I forgot to mention it because I didn’t think he wanted to be involved. Eric’s my ex-husband and he was on the scene during my rescue.”

  “So that’s your ex-husband. Cruz said he was a dick to you.”

  “Yeah, well it goes both ways and I was kind of a dick to him too.”

  It was true. I know I didn’t really extend the olive branch and try to make things work. I didn’t want to be the first one to admit I was partly to blame because deep down I never forgave him for leaving to go to a bar and getting completely hammered when I told him I was pregnant. It wasn’t like we were reckless teenagers. We were married, had careers and a condo. We had even talked about having kids.

  Bottom line, Eric wasn’t ready. He tried to pretend, but the almost euphoric relief he displayed when I miscarried marked the end of our marriage. Once I was discharged from the hospital, I moved out. In hindsight, I probably wasn’t in the best frame of mind and not the best at communicating, but it happened and couldn’t be undone.

  When we were finished with our burgers, Gavin and I ordered another beer. It was nice to unwind after spending the afternoon out in the sun and wind that whipped across the desert. I was too distracted by Eric’s sudden involvement that I wasn’t much of a conversationalist. We drank our beers in companionable silence.

  I waved at Eric as we walked by the bar on our way out of the restaurant. He lifted his beer bottle in my direction and watched as Gavin held the door open for me.

  We were back at my apartment for less than an hour, our day’s work spread out on the table before us, when there was a knock on the front door. I used the peephole first and saw Eric.

  “This is a surprise,” I said when I opened the door.

  “Yeah, I know.”

  I stepped aside and let him in, watching as he surveyed the living room, pausing at the sofa where Gavin’s pillow, blankets and bag were. Eric’s attention was drawn to Gavin and the image up on his laptop. The picture was of some written exchange we had earlier with Bob. He had remembered more details of where he was shot.

  “What are you working on?” Eric asked.

  “Are you genuinely interested?”

  “Yes.”

  “Fine. Have a seat. Want a beer?”

  Eric nodded and sat down next to Gavin who briefly glanced at him, but didn’t say anything, just went back to adjusting the image. I got us each a bottle of beer and joined them at the table where I proceeded to fill Eric in on the documentation we’d collected. I also told him how we weren’t any closer to our goal.

  “I suggested we contact a medium who works with the university,” Gavin added when I paused to take a drink.

  Eric leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed and gazed at me. “Is this what you want?”

  “If the medium can help, then yes, because we don’t know what else to do.”

  “Can you give me some time? I have someone who owes me a favor and I think I might be able to get the DNA associated with Georgia’s case tested.”

  I looked across the table at Gavin and he shrugged. He seemed indifferent, but I knew he spent a lot of time and money coming up here every weekend.

  “Maybe - how long will that take and how do you know this is the piece of information holding Georgia back from crossing over?”

  “I don’t, so it’s a gamble either way.”

  When it came to solving problems, with the exception of those within our own relationship, Eric and I used to be a great team. I had to admit it felt right having him involved and sitting at the table with us. Eric reached for a piece of paper and a pen and started writing out a list of our progress. This was fairly short. He got up and got us another round of beer. Next he wrote out another list of obstacles and drew a line for a blank column, which he titled “potential solutions”. When we were done, the list read like this:

  Issue/Problem

  Potential Solutions

  1) Lack of resources – limited information.

  Take more time for research? Time off of work/school?

  2) Information we found didn’t make a difference. No one crossed over.

  Eric can try to get DNA from Georgia’s cold case tested. Medium can discover what’s holding them here.

  3) We don’t know what the hell we’re doing. (ties into #1)

  Research successful attempts at crossing a spirit over. A medium might know.

  4) Doing all of this and keeping it private.

  Limit the involvement of others. Only bring in those who can be trusted. Draft a confidentiality or non-disclosure agreement.

  Even though I was the one concerned the most about privacy, this last item made me uncomfortable. “I trust you guys. This will only apply if anyone else gets involved.” I felt better for clarifying since it became apparent that we were all working in uncharted territory and needed to bring in an expert. The best solution was to talk to a medium.

  “Gavin, can you make the call and see if this medium is interested?” I asked.

  “Sure, I’ll do it this week.”

  “So no DNA?” Eric asked.

  “I think you should still move forward with it. You never know if there’s a match in the database.”

  Eric grinned, “This is pretty exciting, Lena.” I smiled at the use of his nickname for me.

  With the decision made that we’d seek the advice of a medium, we packed up our stuff and hung out. Gavin produced a pack of cards and we played “asshole”, a game I was horrible at. Befo
re long I was drunk. Gavin and Eric weren’t too far behind me either. After three games, I was ready for bed and Eric wasn’t in any condition to drive. Since Gavin was occupying the couch, there was only one option.

  “I can sleep on the floor, Lena.”

  “No, it’s okay. Come on.” He followed me down the hall to my bedroom. I was very aware of his presence.

  I washed my face and brushed my teeth then, while Eric was in the bathroom, changed into very unsexy sleep shorts and a t-shirt before crawling into bed. Eric came out of the bathroom, his body silhouetted in the doorway by the light behind him. He was wearing his briefs and nothing else. The site of his nakedness stirred something deep inside me and I closed my eyes, silently praying for willpower because all I wanted to do was rub my hands over his abs and chest, preferably while he was hovering over me. He switched the light off and seconds later the mattress shifted as he climbed in. I slowly exhaled, hoping that would calm my accelerating heart rate.

  To my surprise he didn’t try anything and minutes later he was asleep. I lay there for a few minutes feeling slightly disappointed, but the day and the alcohol caught up with me and I soon drifted off.

  The next morning I woke up with Eric wrapped around me, his arm draped over my side and his legs tucked behind mine. This was how we used to sleep together. I smiled and snuggled up against him, enjoying his closeness, waking something of his in the process. At first I tensed up and started to pull away, but Eric mumbled in his sleep and drew me closer, his hand cupping my breast. Peggy’s words came back to me: No regrets, Elena. I knew I didn’t want to be alone anymore and despite the hurt Eric caused me, my stubbornness and actions were as much to blame for our separation, plus I knew I still loved him. Taking a deep breath, I rolled over in his arms and kissed him. The last of my resistance crumbled into dust.