by Becky Durfee
A chill crept up Jenny’s spine. She always marveled at how such trivial decisions could end up dictating who survived and who didn’t. Simply by choosing a seat in the front of the train car, Matthew sealed his fate that day. Although, if someone in his family had to die, Jenny presumed Matthew would have wanted it to be him so his wife and child could survive.
“My other thought,” Jenny continued compassionately, “was that your father might be waiting for your mother to be buried next to him, although I know that isn’t going to happen.”
“My mother got buried with my step-father,” Mary said.
Jenny nodded slightly, although Mary couldn’t see that. “I know.”
“She figured my father had his entire extended family around him, and my step-father would have been buried alone.”
“That sounds like a very fair solution,” Jenny replied sincerely, “but if that’s what your father is concerned about, we may have a tougher time appeasing him.”
Once again Mary was silent.
“If it makes you feel any better, I do know something wonderful is on the other side,” Jenny said quickly. “Including your mother. Your father can see her again if he crosses over, so that might be a comfort to him, even if they aren’t physically buried together here on earth.”
More silence. Jenny began to regret bringing up that whole topic.
“On a different note,” Jenny stated matter-of-factly, “there have been reports of other children who have made similar claims about being contacted by the deceased, and a doctor by the name of Albert Wilson has made a career out of studying those kids. I have started the process of trying to contact him. Ideally, I want him to come out and meet this young boy; I’m hoping he can advise me as to what is the best course of action. We are talking about a child here, so I don’t want to do anything that will cause him harm in any way.”
“I don’t either,” Mary stated emphatically.
“But if it comes down to it, I’m wondering if you’d be willing to meet the child.”
“I-I-I suppose I could,” Mary said, “if you think that’s the right thing to do.”
Relief washed over Jenny. “I’m not sure if it’s the right thing to do or not,” she confessed with a laugh. “That’s for Dr. Wilson to decide.”
Dr. Albert Wilson caught the first plane into Columbia, arriving at the hotel shortly after dinner. He appeared to be in his late forties, with what was left of his hair kept in a very short buzz-cut. He reminded Jenny of a college professor in his blazer, jeans and gold-rimmed glasses. While she had to acknowledge he was a strikingly handsome man in a distinguished sort of way, she personally felt no attraction to him.
She only felt pregnant.
In order for Jenny and Kayla to be able to talk freely with the doctor, Zack had agreed to bring Devon to a place called The Jump Zone that featured a series of indoor trampolines. Deep down inside, Jenny worried about Zack’s ability to remain in charge of an overactive child in such a large and unstructured area, although she figured the one-to-one ratio would work in Zack’s favor. Kayla, on the other hand, expressed concern for the welfare of the trampolines, wondering just how much money she was going to owe The Jump Zone for repairs by the time Devon left the place.
Nonetheless, the adults dove right into the business at hand, taking up shop in the hotel restaurant. “When did you say the accident happened?” Doctor Wilson asked.
“1961,” Kayla replied.
The doctor took notes. “Are you aware of any living relatives of the deceased?”
“I spoke to his daughter earlier today,” Jenny said.
Dr. Wilson looked at Jenny over his glasses. “What was her reaction?”
“She was shocked by the call, of course, but she seemed like she was supportive. She even agreed to meet with Devon if need be.”
“That’s good to know, but I’d rather hold off on that for a little while,” the doctor explained. “First, I want to show the child some photographs from various points in Matthew’s life and gauge his reaction. I want to see just what we’re dealing with before we go any further.”
“Do you think Devon is in any danger?” Kayla asked.
“Danger? No.” Doctor Wilson shook his head. “Most of the children I’ve worked with haven’t experienced any problems, aside from the occasional nightmare.”
Jenny leaned forward onto her elbows. “Dr. Wilson, I have read about your work, obviously, and I find it fascinating. The one thing the articles didn’t tell me, however, is how these cases got resolved. For instance, the boy who said he used to be a man named Keith who died when he crashed his Mustang…whatever happened to that child? Does he still make those claims?”
“He doesn’t. In fact, as he progressed through the primary grades, the talk of Keith slowed and eventually ground to a halt. Now that boy is a teenager and has no recollection of ever speaking of anyone named Keith.”
“What do you think happened to make it stop?” Kayla asked.
“I honestly can’t say. All I know is that these spirits generally attach to very young host children. As the children progress through the early grades, the talk of past lives stops.”
“Well, as you know,” Jenny began, “I have the ability to receive messages from the deceased as well. I’m not sure if we’re dealing with the same thing, though, considering I’m an adult. But when I get contacts, the spirits usually stick around until their issues get resolved. Once the spirits are satisfied, they cross over and I don’t hear from them again. Is it possible that the same thing is happening with these children you study?”
“I’m inclined to believe it’s not,” Dr. Wilson explained. “These kids all seem to outgrow their talk of reincarnation right around age six or seven. It would be strangely coincidental if all of these spirits happened to get their issues resolved when the host children reached that particular age.”
Jenny tapped her finger on the table, deep in thought. “We may be dealing with two different things, then. When I met Devon, I was instantly able to tell he has the gift, which is something that—to the best of my knowledge—doesn’t go away with age. Personally, I didn’t even discover my own gift until recently.” She looked intently at the doctor. “What do you think is going on that gives these kids the ability to receive spirits until only age six or seven?”
“My guess has been that it has something to do with the immaturity of some portions of the young brain. I’ve been researching the developmental stages of the different lobes, trying to determine which neurological changes would make these youngsters no longer susceptible to outside influences.”
This was becoming a little more scientific than Jenny had wanted to be. “So, they outgrow it?” she said with a smirk.
The doctor didn’t return the smile. “Yes, it appears they outgrow it. Although, I am doing some comparative studies to see if there’s something different about the make-up of these kids’ brains that makes them predisposed to receiving supernatural contact. Most kids, obviously, don’t have this ability…I want to see what makes these children different.”
“In my family, it’s inherited,” Jenny noted, “but it started with a near-death experience of one of my ancestors. Ever since then, some of her descendants have been born with the ability.”
Kayla finished the sentiment on Jenny’s behalf. “My son had a near-death experience at birth. He stopped breathing shortly after he was born—for quite a while, too. Jenny seems to think that’s how he got this ability.”
Dr. Wilson shifted his gaze back and forth between the two women until his eyes eventually landed on Jenny. “I would love to get a look at your brain,” he said in a tone which, under other circumstances, could have been perceived as flirting. “Would you be willing to submit to an MRI?”
Jenny thought about lying flat on her back in a small tube while radiation surged through her body. “Can I give birth first?”
The doctor nodded stiffly. “That sounds reasonable. Would it be okay if I called you i
n a few months?”
“Absolutely.” Jenny thought for a brief moment before adding, “Actually, can we make it a barter?”
“A barter? What would you like to trade?”
“I’m wondering if you can introduce me to the boy who once claimed to be Keith.”
Dr. Wilson was on the phone with Mary when Zack and Devon returned. Devon came running into the hotel lobby, his smile wide, eager to tell his mother all about his adventure on the trampolines. Zack walked much more slowly behind him, looking a little worse for wear. Jenny bit her lip to keep from laughing.
After Devon’s long-winded and passionate description of his ‘twenty-foot-high’ jumps, Kayla turned to Zack and asked, “How did it go? Did he behave okay?”
“He behaved fine,” Zack replied. “He just never runs out of energy.”
Kayla laughed. “Don’t I know it?”
“I’m exhausted and I didn’t even do anything; I just watched him do his thing,” Zack said. “I don’t know how he can still be running around.”
“He has two speeds,” Kayla explained, “go, and stop. Once he lies down, he’ll be asleep in thirty seconds, but then when he wakes up in the morning he’ll hit the ground running…and I do mean running.”
Zack shook his head. “I don’t know how you do it.”
“Why do you think we stopped after one child?” Kayla looked down at Devon. “Did you thank Mr. Zack for taking you to The Jump Zone?”
“Thank you,” Devon replied mechanically.
“No problem, buddy.”
Dr. Wilson ended his phone call and headed back toward the table. “I assume this is Devon,” he announced mechanically.
“The one and only,” Kayla replied as Devon squirmed on her lap.
Dr. Wilson knelt down in front of Devon and said, “Hello, there, young man. I’m wondering if you can help me with something. I have someone sending me some pictures tomorrow, and I’d like you to look at them. Can you do that for me?”
Devon nodded silently in agreement.
Dr. Wilson shifted his eyes to the adults and said, “Hopefully, that will give us some of the answers we’re looking for.”
“Sorry it took me so long,” the doctor said as he walked through the door of Devon and Kayla’s hotel room, where everyone had congregated. “It was hard to find a place where I could print these out.”
He carried a thick manila folder in his hand, setting it down on the desk along the closest wall. Jenny watched him nervously, curious about what was going to transpire. Dr. Wilson opened the folder and sorted through papers inside. Pulling a few out, he laid them out on the bed. Jenny noticed they were black and white photographs of houses.
“Hey Devon,” the doctor said, “can you come here and look at these pictures for me?”
Devon scooted off the chair where he had been playing games on his tablet, handing the device to his mother. He walked over and climbed up onto the bed, briefly glancing at each picture. By the time he reached the fourth photograph, his brow furrowed and his gaze remained fixated on that one image.
“What do you see?” the doctor asked.
“That’s my house,” Devon replied.
“Which one?”
Devon reached out a little finger and touched the fourth picture. Jenny’s eyes rose to look at the doctor, whose expression didn’t change.
“Where is that house?” Doctor Wilson asked.
“Summerset.”
Jenny remembered the name of the town where Matthew had lived to be Terryville, and she wondered if Devon’s claim was legitimate or imagined.
Next, the doctor held up an image of a young girl, a photograph clearly taken several decades earlier. “Do you recognize this girl?”
Devon looked up at the picture and studied it, but he ultimately shook his head and confessed, “Nope.”
Unfazed, Doctor Wilson flipped that picture to the back of his stack, revealing another photograph of a similarly-aged girl. “How about her?”
Devon didn’t look at this picture quite as long before saying, “No.”
The process repeated. “Do you know this girl?”
After only a second, Devon’s wide eyes rose to meet Doctor Wilson’s again. “That’s Maribel.”
“Who is Maribel?”
“She’s my daughter.”
Once again, Jenny felt like the details might have been off. The daughter’s name had been Mary, not Maribel, and she wasn’t sure if the picture Devon had chosen was of the correct child. The doctor’s facial expression gave no indication, either, although Jenny suspected that was his intention.
Devon continued, “I haven’t been able to find her. Have you seen her?”
“I haven’t seen her,” Dr. Wilson said, “but we can certainly try to find her for you.”
The doctor spread several more photographs out on the bed; these were in color. “Do any of these pictures mean anything to you?”
Devon scoured the pictures, ultimately pointing at a picture of what appeared to be a manufacturing plant. He seemed only half interested in what he was doing.
“What is in that picture?” the doctor asked.
“It looks like my work, but it looks a little different.”
“What looks different about it?”
“Those letters are different.”
“Do you know what those letters say?”
“That’s an E; that’s an S; that’s a T.”
“Can you read the words?”
Devon only shook his head no.
“What work do you do?”
“I fix things.”
“You fix things? What kind of things?”
“Machines.” He held his little arms out wide. “Big machines.”
At that moment, Devon turned away from the bed and approached Kayla. Jumping up and down, he informed his mother he wanted his tablet back. Jenny determined the session had just officially ended whether they wanted it to or not.
The adults exchanged glances, and Zack took the hint. “Hey Devon,” he said, “do you want to go get an ice cream?”
Devon immediately put the tablet down on his chair and ran at full speed toward the door. With a smile, Zack said, “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Once Devon and Zack were gone, Kayla immediately asked Dr. Wilson, “Did any of his facts line up?”
“Some did and some didn’t, or at least that’s how it appears at first glance. He chose the correct house, but the location was Terryville, South Carolina, and he said Summerset. He also chose the right child but said the wrong name.”
“What about the job?” Kayla asked.
“That one he did get correct. The building has changed names, so the writing on the wall was different. It used to be called Shatney Everson, and it was a textile plant; it has since been bought out. Matthew did work as a machinist there, so Devon was able to pick out the right building and he could recognize the work Matthew did, or at least he described it as well as a five-year-old can be expected to.”
Jenny was admittedly a bit shaken by this information; the notion that Matthew had just resurrected himself inside that little boy was unnerving.
“I do want to call Mary and see if there may be an ounce of truth to Devon’s other statements,” Dr. Wilson continued. “I don’t want to declare he was incorrect unless and until Mary can verify that the information was false.”
Kayla looked uneasy while the doctor dialed Mary’s number and put the phone on speaker. Mary also sounded apprehensive when she answered.
“Well,” Dr. Wilson began, “we just put Devon to the test, and he did well with some aspects of it.” He explained the notions Devon had gotten correct. “We do have a few questions, though, about some of the other information he had given us. Can you tell us if there is any significance to the name Summerset?”
“Oh my God,” Mary said softly. “That was the name of the subdivision where I grew up.”
“That’s where he said his house was.”
Mary sounded
shaken. “Well, he was right.”
“Let me ask you one other thing,” Dr. Wilson said. “Did your father ever have any nicknames for you?”
“Just one,” she replied nervously.
“And what name was that?”
“He always used to call me Maribel.”
Chapter 6
A chill worked its way up Jenny’s spine; Devon shouldn’t have known that.
Unfazed, Dr. Wilson explained the situation to Mary. “That’s the name he gave when he saw the picture of you as a young girl.”
He paused, waiting for Mary to reply, but she didn’t. Jenny could only imagine what was going through her head.
“The good news in all of this is that Devon’s reactions to the photographs were quite benign,” Dr. Wilson added. “He didn’t get agitated at all upon seeing the pictures, which provides me with hope that this process will go smoothly.”
Jenny briefly wondered what case was being used as a basis of comparison.
“So, then, what’s the next step?” Kayla asked.
“Well, after hearing what Devon has said, wondering if we’ve seen Julia and Mary, I think the logical conclusion would be that he couldn’t find them during the fire. If I put myself in his shoes, I would be positively desperate to make sure my wife and daughter were okay…but if the flames were too high or the smoke too thick, he wouldn’t have been able to get to them.”
“The smoke was horrible,” Mary said through the phone. “It was amazing how quickly the whole car became filled with it. You couldn’t see your hand in front of your face.” She let out a shallow breath, indicating just how painful this memory was to recall. “People were screaming…it was pure chaos. I guarantee my father couldn’t have found us, no matter how hard he tried.”
Trying to put an end to Mary’s pain, Jenny interjected, “I think it’s reasonable to assume that’s why he’s lingering.” She secretly hoped there wasn’t a second motive which involved being buried next to his wife. “I guess now it’s just a matter of letting him know that they survived?” She phrased it more like a question than a statement.