Paranormal Solved

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Paranormal Solved Page 4

by Grace Fleming


  "Oh, you'd better believe it," Jerry said. "I am going to nail the bastard who is messing with my brain. I'll mention him by name." Actually, the presentation project had been the farthest thing from Jerry's mind lately, but it was true: once he figured out what kind of shit the old man had played on him, Jerry was going to nail him with legal action.

  "Sweet," Josh said. "I know David is going through with his end of the deal, too. I talked to him this morning. He's pretty smitten with that Bigfoot hunter. Can you freakin' believe that?"

  Jerry was struggling to keep his mind from wandering off. The pain in his leg was worrying him. "Yeah, that's crazy."

  "So I guess I'm off to study alien abductions, then. It's going to be a crazy summer!"

  "Yeah, so can you get back to me about your hypno-suggestion thing?" Jerry needed to end the conversation soon. He hated to be so abrupt with Josh, since he was asking for a favor and all, but he couldn't concentrate. He was relieved when Josh took the hint and ended the conversation. He had a feeling it was time to take a close look at his leg again. He lifted his foot and let it rest on the coffee table and began the gentle task of rolling up his pant leg. Just as he'd expected, the red area around the puncture was growing. Jerry could feel the pain deep into his muscle and up his entire leg.

  "What the hell happened to you!"

  He had no idea how long Vivian had been standing there, just a few feet beside him, and the shrillness in her voice was both startling and unnerving. He'd been trying to convince himself that the little wound on his leg would heal itself, but it was starting to hurt like holy hell. It was also looking pretty ugly to Jerry, and by the sound of her voice, Viv thought so, as well.

  "You need to have that looked at! How did that happen?"

  Vivian's words were coming so quickly that Jerry didn't have time to make up a good lie. "I was in a parking lot and fell," he said.

  "What do you mean? How did you fall?" Her rapid fire questions made him feel like a guilty school boy.

  "I don't know. I just fell on something."

  "Fell on what?"

  "I don't know what! It was dark!”

  "Oh, whatever," she said, sounding a bit impatient with his vagueness. "Get up. I'm taking you to the ER right now. I think it's getting infected."

  Jerry knew not to put up any resistance, and he was a little relieved to have his wife take charge, as she tended to do in tense situations. His mind was trying to stay in denial about the whole thing, since the wound had happened in such an inexplicable way. He had to agree that medical attention was the most pressing issue at the moment.

  "How long ago did this happen?" The emergency room doctor squinted his eyes and gripped Jerry's leg with both hands before rotating it toward the light for a better view. His grip made the pain shoot up into Jerry's thigh. Jerry felt sweat dripping down his back.

  "Day before yesterday." He couldn't help wincing as he spoke.

  "Can you be more specific?" the doctor said. "How many hours?"

  "About forty-eight."

  "I know you said you fell," the man said. "Did you see what you fell on?" The look on his face was concerning.

  "Uh, not really," Jerry said. "And I guess it was a little less than forty-eight hours, now that I think about it." He needed to be precise about the timing, since he was so clueless about the nature of the wound. "Late afternoon."

  "You say you've had a tetanus shot recently?"

  "A year ago."

  "I want you to think, then," the doctor said. "Is there any chance there was a snake where you fell?"

  A snake? In all honesty, the punctures could have come from anything, since Jerry had been hallucinating at the time it occurred. Would that man have been crazy enough to allow a venomous snake attack an audience member? This wasn't making any sense at all. Jerry was now feeling nauseous, and the sickness interfered with his ability to think straight. "Honestly, doctor, there could have been. I really have no idea."

  "You were in Savannah, right? Near a river?"

  "Yeah," Jerry said.

  "No way to be sure," the man said, still attempting to rotate Jerry's leg, "It's not acting like a simple puncture; I believe there's some kind of toxin at work here. If I had to make a guess, I'd say copperhead. Your symptoms are somewhat consistent with copperhead venom, although the the reactions are slower than I'd expect. It's weird, but definitely not anything more venomous. Any other snake bite would have killed you by now."

  "Reassuring," Jerry said as he glanced at Vivian with a what the hell look. "So do I need some kind of antivenin?"

  "Not an option at this point," the doctor said. "But we do need to keep you here for observation. I'll find you a room."

  The doctor swooped out of the room in the usual abrupt, doctorly style. Jerry wasn't sure if it was the smell of the hospital or the insane circumstances he was dealing with, but he was starting to feel strange—like woozy and emotional all at once. To make matters worse, he'd hardly slept the night before because he was worried that his son was having too much fun at his born-again mother's house and would get ideas about living with her. Thankfully, Viv was there with him. He gave her his most loving glance.

  "Why the hell did you lie to me?" she said in return.

  "What?" Jerry said defensively. "When did I lie?"

  "You told me it was dark out and you stumbled. You just told the doctor that it was about forty-eight ago, and this—whatever it is—happened to you in the middle of the day. Jerry, what in the hell are you up to?"

  Her heartless tone was more than he could handle. He never was good at juggling lies, and his emotions were now flooding to the surface and causing his eyes and nose to flow freely. He was starting to cry.

  "What the hell?" Gerald James Price, you need to tell me what is going on, right now."

  "Vivian," he said in an unintentional whisper. His throat was so tight that his voice was quiet and quivering. "I do have something to tell you, but I can't go into it right now. Can we talk after we get home?"

  "Are you having an affair?"

  The absurdity of her accusation snapped him out of his weepy fog. "That is absurd," he said as he laughed through the tears. "You really are an idiot."

  "Well, you're an idiot, too. Why are you keeping something from me?"

  Jerry looked back at his wife, whom he loved more than anything on earth, except for the son they'd raised together. How was he going to explain to her that he was losing his mind? She'd stayed by his side through all the bullshit caused by his crazy ex, through the starving years he'd caused as a struggling student and as an assistant professor in the history department. While they'd faced a lot of challenges together, this situation might be the one to take them down. He couldn't see how he could tell Vivian the truth, but he also knew he couldn't keep things from her. He was afraid. "Vivian," he said, although that wasn't the word that actually came out of his mouth. It was more like a a fluuvrrrren sound that he made, and for the life of him, he couldn't understand why his lips hadn't moved like they should. He saw a frightened look on Vivian's face, just before he heard a loud noise and felt a sharp pain in his temple. He was pretty sure it was the sound of his head hitting the floor. And that was all he knew before everything went black.

  7

  Paradigm Shift

  "We still have to have that talk," Vivian said, as she settled a tray of food on Jerry's lap. "I've been easy on you while you were in the hospital, but I do expect an explanation. I need to know what the hell is going on."

  "I know," Jerry said with a sigh. He'd known this was coming, but after two days in the hospital, he wasn't any more sure about what he would say. He fluffed a pillow and threw it behind him to prop himself more upright on the bed and adjusted his hips. It was clear to both of them that he was stalling.

  "Well, you can calm yourself for now," she said, as she patted his knee. "I think there's something more pressing you need to deal with at the moment." She moved around the bed to sit next to him. Now she was the on
e stalling and he was the one wrinkling his forehead in concern. Her face was taught with worry. "It's Luke, honey. Something's not right."

  "Oh, my god," Jerry said. "Don't tell me. He's been spending time with his mother while I was in the hospital. I knew it."

  "Right," Vivian said. "He has. But that's not the problem. I mean, I'm sure that's at the bottom of it somehow, but that's not what I wanted to tell you."

  "What?" Jerry nearly yelled the word. "Tell me what's wrong!"

  Vivian squeezed his knee as she looked toward the door, signaling that she wanted Jerry to quiet down. At the moment, Luke was in his own bedroom across the hall with the door shut.

  "Has he come out of his room to talk to you at all since you've been home?" she asked.

  "No," Jerry said. "I figured he feels weird because I gave him a scare or something. We haven't really talked."

  "That's the thing," Vivian said. "He stopped talking to his mom, and she blames me for it. However, he won't talk to me, either. And now he hasn't even spoken to you, after everything. I don't know what's going on."

  "Get him in here." Jerry felt that awful panic that only a parent can feel. It wasn't like Luke to stop communicating, and Jerry knew something bad was at the bottom of this.

  "Don't be hard on him—"

  "Go get him, Vivian," Jerry interrupted. His head was swirling with all sorts of bad scenarios. Luke had always been a great kid, and Jerry knew he was damned lucky for that. He lived in fear, though, of drugs, or girls, or some bully punk, or some sick weirdo getting in his head and screwing up his brain. "I want to get to the bottom of it, now." He felt a little bad for speaking to Vivian more harshly than he'd intended, but his heart was thumping with fear for his kid, and whatever this was, it was happening on top of the fact that his leg was burning with a wound from some imaginary fiend. How the hell much was he supposed to take?

  Vivian left and crossed the hall to summon Luke from the self-imposed isolation of his room, and Jerry could tell that his son tried to hesitate at first. Vivian showed an aggression that was unusual for her, pounding and raising her voice, until the dazed face of their son emerged from behind the door. "Go see your father, now," she said. Jerry couldn't remember Vivian using such a stern voice on Luke, mostly because it had never been necessary. Jesus, he thought. His whole house was suddenly in turmoil.

  When Luke walked into the room, Jerry's heart felt like hot lead, all balled up inside his chest. The boy's eyes were sunken, and he seemed more pale than he'd ever been. "Come over here, son," Jerry said. "Give your dad a hug." Jerry could hear his own heart beating. He didn't know what he was about to learn, and he didn't know if he was going to be able to handle it. Luke approached the bed and reached out his arms, and as soon as he got within arm's reach of Jerry, tears started streaming down his face. Jerry grabbed his son by the shoulders and looked into his eyes. "Hey, man. You're scaring me now. Sit down here and tell me what's going on." Jerry was terrified.

  "I can't," Luke said.

  "You're gonna," Jerry said. "You're not leaving this room until you tell me what's bugging you." He tried hard to keep his voice steady. Whatever was wrong, Jerry didn't want to make it worse by letting his emotions show too much. "Is it your mom?" Jerry asked. "Do you want to go live with her? Are you afraid I'll be mad?" This was just one of the scenarios popping up in Jerry's brain.

  "No," Luke said meekly.

  Jerry's chest thumped harder, and he realized that the awful scenario he'd just mentioned had been the least of his fears. So whatever the thing was, it was worse than that.

  "I can't tell you," Luke said. He sniffled and wiped tears from his nose with his palm.

  "Listen, child," Jerry said. His shaky voice was betraying him, now. The panic was evident. "You're going to tell me, I don't care what it is." He was nearing hysteria. He'd rarely used this tone with Luke, and it was breaking his heart.

  "But you won't believe me!" This time Luke was yelling. "Nobody will believe me."

  "Of course I'll believe you," Jerry shouted back. "We don't lie to each other, remember?"

  "You'll say I'm crazy," Luke said. He was starting to sob, now. "I don't want to tell you because I know you won't believe me."

  For a moment, a thought flashed through Jerry's brain that was so outlandish that he dismissed it as wishful thinking. But his son had said the same words Jerry had been thinking for days. Nobody will believe me.

  "Son," Jerry said, but this time he was whispering. "Did you see something weird? I mean, really weird?"

  Luke looked back at his father with a mix of shock and hopefulness on his face. "What do you mean?" he asked.

  "I'm asking you. Did you see something weird that makes you think you're hallucinating?”

  Luke stared back, apparently stunned speechless, with a bright pink face and watery eyelashes. "How did you know that?” he whispered.

  In a sudden rush, Jerry felt every truth he had ever believed drain from his soul. He couldn't believe that he was considering the impossible, but even the impossible would be preferable to seeing his kid suffer from drugs or abuse, like he'd prepared himself for. He reached over and jerked a tissue from the box on the bedside table. "Tell me son," he said in a calm, matter of fact voice. "What did it look like?"

  His son continued to stare back at him with wide open eyes and mouth.

  "Was it some weird little shadow creature lurking in a corner or streaking up and down the hallway?" Jerry continued. He knew he sounded like a madman, but he could tell from his son's reaction that the insane, impossible scenario he was suggesting was about to be confirmed. He was almost laughing, now, as he tossed a tissue at his stunned child. "Was that it?" he yelled.

  "Yes!" Luke shouted back to his father, but this time he was laughing and crying, all at once. "Yes," he repeated, in some wild hysteria through his tear-swollen face. "How did you know that, dad?"

  Jerry grabbed his son and pulled him in for a tight hug. Now he was also talking through tears. He was crying in an odd sort of relief. "It's okay, son. It's going to be okay. I guess we've got a fucking troll in the house—or something." Jerry squeezed the boy tighter than he ever had before, and they both laugh-cried like a pair of maniacs.

  8

  Peer Review

  David punched at a pillow behind his head and adjusted himself on the bed before picking up the TV remote and hitting the play button with his thumb. He turned the volume down low, fearing that one of his neighbors on either side might hear that he was watching a Sasquatch show. He lived in a nice condo unit, but he had noticed that noise from his neighbor's TV had penetrated the walls occasionally, especially late at night. There were faculty members living on each side of him, so there was no way he wanted them overhearing this.

  The intro to the show was just as Jerry had described it; a distinguished sounding announcer was itemizing a long list of Laura London's scholarly credentials, while "Wild Thing" played in the background. It was one of David's favorite songs, in fact. That, alone, impressed him. It hit him again, what a big deal she was in some circles. The thought of thousands of people tuning in to watch this woman was thrilling, and a little odd. Their conversations had turned flirty right away, and the two of them seemed to have rare chemistry. It was such foreign territory for him. He hadn't felt this way for so many years, he couldn't even count them.

  He lifted a beer to his lips and sipped as the show began. There was Laura, apparently deep in the woods of Pennsylvania, with a lone cameraman named Chaz tagging along—at least that was the claim. David suspected there were others joining in, off camera. For several minutes, he watched while Laura and Chaz sat in the dark, listening to sounds of crickets and twig snaps as the camera swung around them, and Laura narrated stories of recent sightings in the area. This went on for five minutes or so, and David was just about to fast forward when the sound of a larger crack caused an exchange of excited whispers between Laura and the cameraman.

  This had better start getting interesting
, David thought. The show was about to lose him.

  The screen now showed the image of dark tree-like shapes with a few hulky, green-glowing lumps on the edges. This, Laura explained, was the night vision image of something lurking behind a tree about twenty yards away from them.

  David leaned in to look closer at his screen, when one lump turned into two lumps.

  "There are two!" Laura whispered excitedly on the screen.

  At that moment, the green lumps extended into two gigantically tall lumps, which appeared to turn around and bound away into the thickness of the forest. Laura's voice estimated the taller one to be about nine feet in height.

  "I can't believe people buy this," David said softly to himself. He was feeling a little sick to his stomach, now. He was so damned confused. Was he, of all people, about to get involved with a circus performer? A small lump was forming in his throat. But then—maybe she was actually a victim of trickery, herself? It was still possible that the show's producers had manufactured this chicanery without her knowing. He fast forwarded and landed about three quarters of the way through the show before resuming play. This was the part of the show where Laura interviewed people who had supposedly experienced some sort of traumatic encounter. As the action started again, David was surprised to see that Laura was sitting face to face with a young boy. He let out a loud sigh and placed the remote control on the bed beside him and crossed his arms. As painful as this might be for David, he needed to watch this. If the woman of his dreams would sink low enough to exploit the imagination of a young boy for ratings, David had to know.

  The boy was from a nearby Ohio county, not far from David's home town, and he had big hazel eyes and a head of moppy brown hair that hung down beneath a Cleveland Browns hat. His name was Sawyer. David noticed that Laura held on to Sawyer's hand as they made their introductions and chatted for a few minutes. Then she started to gently question the child, who explained that he lived on a farm with his parents and his little brother, who was only three. Sawyer's bedroom was on the second floor of their house, he explained, and on the night of his experience, he was trying to go to sleep, but he couldn’t, because his dad's hunting dogs were making a lot of noise.

 

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