Toe to Toe

by Deborah LeBlanc

  “What’s going—” Jack’s flashlight beam crossed the threshold only seconds before he did. Evidently he wasn’t used to seeing inanimate objects twirling in midair because he pulled up short and his mouth fell open, dropping his words in midsentence. He glanced from Tatman to Buggy then Nonie before his eyes zeroed in on the skillet again.

  Nonie saw Guy arch a brow at the large black woman.

  “I told you to put it down,” he told her.

  The woman harrumphed. “I ain’t gots to do nothin’ I don’t wants to do, boy. Them days of people telling me, Tiana do this, Tiana don’t do that is long gone.”

  “Yeah, but look at what it’s caused,” Guy said. “Now you’ll never get rid of them.”

  A grin spread over the woman’s face. “Oh, I can gets rid of ’em. That be for sure.”

  Jack trained the camera he had hanging around his neck on the skillet. “You catching this, Tat?”

  “Hell, yeah,” Tatman assured him.

  “Nonie, is the recorder running?”

  Nonie nodded, then realized Jack wasn’t looking her way. He was too busy snapping still shots of the skillet action. “Yep, it’s on,” she said. “I’ve got the full spectrum running, too.”

  “Anything showing up on the FS?” Jack asked.

  She looked over at the screen and saw a large shadow shaped just like Tiana, swinging what looked like a flat iron from hand to hand. “Big shadow. Shaped like a woman.”

  “Let me see,” Jack said hurrying over to her side.

  Nonie handed him the camera. It wasn’t as if she’d lied to him. Through the lens of the full spectrum, Tiana was seen as a shadow. She just hadn’t revealed that she knew for a fact that it was a woman because she saw her with her own eyes in Technicolor standing only a few feet away.

  “Oh, man, this is excellent!” Jack said. “Hold the recorder out in the direction of the skillet, Nonie.”

  When she did as asked, Jack said loudly, “Whoever’s here, can you tell us your name?”

  Nonie saw Tiana look at Guy. “Why he wants to know my name for?”

  Guy shrugged nonchalantly.

  “Are you a man or a woman?” Jack asked.

  Tiana snorted. “I be a woman, fool.”

  “You’ve gotta remember he can’t see you,” Guy said. “Only one of the people here can. My girlfriend.”

  “Which one she be?”

  Guy pointed to Nonie. “That real pretty one. Longish brown hair, big eyes, small nose.”

  “What her name be?”

  “Nonie.”

  “What she got in her hand?”

  “It’s called a recorder. You talk into it, and it plays back what you said.”

  A look of astonishment crossed Tiana’s face. “Even if the person talkin’ be dead?”

  “The dead are different. Sometimes it picks up our voices. Sometimes not.”

  “Why some and not all?”

  “No idea.”

  Tiana stilled the swinging skillet and took a few steps closer to Nonie and the recorder she held out in one hand.

  Everyone in the room, except Nonie, gasped as the skillet moved closer to them.

  Tiana looked from Nonie to Jack to Buggy to Tatman before turning her attention back to the recorder. She leaned over and said loudly. “My name be Tiana Lewis.”

  “How old are you?” Jack asked.

  Tiana gave Guy a quizzical look. “That machine didn’t say what I said. How come?”

  “They have to rewind it in order to hear what was said,” Guy told her.

  “Well, what they waitin’ for? I wants to hear what I said.”

  Nonie heard a loud clunk from another part of the house, then Shaundelle yelled out, “Where the hell’d everybody go?”

  “In here!” Tatman shouted back, not taking his eye off his camera’s screen.

  Heavy, quick footsteps made their way to the kitchen. Shaundelle stomped her way inside and propped her hands on her hips. “Why you left me back there by myself, dude. Ain’t we supposed to be sticking together? What the hell all y’all doin’ in here anyway?”

  Tatman glanced over at Shaundelle, then stepped to one side, giving her a bird’s-eye view of the floating skillet.

  For a moment, Nonie thought Shaundelle’s eyes were going to pop out of her head. “I—I—Oh, lawd Jesus of Nazareth.” Obviously in shock, her voice was barely audible. She took a step back, then another.

  “She belong to y’all?” Tiana asked Nonie.

  Unable to answer, Nonie shot Guy a look.

  “Her name’s Shaundelle,” Guy said. “And she doesn’t belong to anybody but herself.”

  “Say what?” Tiana asked. “Who be her master then?”

  “She doesn’t have one,” Guy said. “It’s not like back in your day, Tiana. Slavery’s been done away with a long time now.”

  Tiana gave Nonie an astonished look. “You mean all y’all white people here ain’t got no slaves? Y’all gots to do y’all own cookin’ and cleanin’ and everythin’?”

  Nonie gave a slight nod of her head, hoping everyone’s attention was still on the skillet and not on her.

  “What’s the matter with you woman? She too uppity to talk to me?” Tiana asked Guy.

  “The others don’t know she can see you or me, and she doesn’t want them to know,” he said.

  “How come? Aw, never mind, I knows how come. They’d be all over her all the time, right? Nonie can you see my dead mama. Nonie can you see my dead sister. Nonie, Nonie, all the time Nonie, right?”

  Nonie gave another slight nod.

  Tiana tsked. “See, I knows.”

  “I’m gonna . . .uh . . .” Shaundelle took another step back, then another. “I’m gonna . . .uh . . . wait in the van. Yeah, that’s what I’m gonna do . . . wait in the van!” With that, Shaundelle turned on her heels and hightailed it out of the kitchen. Seconds later Nonie heard the front door of the house slam shut.

  “We’ve got some great shots with the full spectrum,” Jack said. “With any luck, we’ll get some class A EVPs.”

  Tiana looked over at Guy. “You know, them is some boring ass people if you ask me. They get all excited about seeing my fry pan, then ask dumb questions. I think I’m gonna stirs them up a little.”

  Nonie didn’t particularly care for the twinkle she saw in Tiana’s eye.

  “Don’t you think we have enough evidence?” Nonie quickly asked Jack. “Tatman’s been shooting with his camera, the Rem Pod has been going off nonstop, and we’ve got stills of a pretty decent size shadow. Maybe it’s time we go. Leave the rest for the film crew.”

  “Are you kidding?” Jack said. “Look at that skillet still floating over there by itself. That’s got to mean something’s holding it. If we hang around long enough, maybe do a little coaxing, we might catch a full-bodied apparition.”

  “Oh, uh-uh,” Buggy said. “No full-bodied anything for me thanks. I’ve seen enough with just that pan.”

  “Do you mind that we’re here?” Jack asked, questioning the floating skillet once more. “If you want us to stay, can you move that pan? Lift it higher?”

  Tiana scowled at Jack like he was a kid too bored to do anything but play in a mud hole. She kept the skillet still.

  “If you want us to leave, can you move the pan lower, maybe put it on the floor?” Jack asked.

  Tiana winked at Guy then slapped the bottom of the skillet hard against the palm of her hand. It made a thunking sound that made all of them, including Guy, jump.

  “I’m tired of all they mess,” Tiana finally said, then raised the skillet over her head and took three quick steps toward Jack and Tatman. She swung the pan once, missing Tatman’s head by inches.

  Tatman let out a gasp and both men stepped back a couple of feet.

  As the men chattered amongst themselves, Buggy grabbed Nonie by the shirt and leaned into her and whispered softly, “What’s she doing?”

  “Looks like she’s about to bounce that pan over somebody’s head
if you ask me,” Nonie said, keeping her voice barely audible.

  “W-We should leave now,” Buggy said. “I think we pissed it off.”

  “Right, yeah,” Tatman agreed, backing up until he reached the threshold of the kitchen archway. “I’ll start pulling in cables. That work for you, Jack?”

  Instead of answering, Jack took the recorder from Nonie’s hand and stepped closer to the offending skillet. “What’s your name? Did you die in this house? Do you own this house?”

  Tiana’s expression went from one of amusement to aggravation. She gave Nonie a quizzical look. “How come you with them busybodies anyways, askin’ all them questions like any of it’s their business?”

  Nonie pursed her lips and gave Tiana the slightest shrug, hoping neither Jack nor Tatman noticed.

  Snorting out a heavy breath from her nose, Tiana suddenly charged Jack like a bull who’d been teased one too many times.

  “Shit!” Jack quick-stepped backward. “Okay, we’ll leave.”

  Tiana pulled up short, but started twirling the skillet in her hand.

  “Pack it up, Tat,” Jack called out to Tatman, who’d already hurried out of the kitchen. “Nonie, Buggy, grab your equipment and go to the van.”

  Not needing to be told twice, Nonie and Buggy collected the equipment they’d been assigned to, including the recorder, which Nonie plucked out of Jack’s hand and hurried out of the kitchen. Neither of them looked back until they were outside and had made it to the van. The night was starless, cool, yet seemed to be charged with electricity. It only made things seem more ominous. They both grabbed for the rear door handle and pulled but it wouldn’t open.

  Shaundelle’s face suddenly appeared in the passenger window, eyes bugged, mouth agape.

  “Unlock the doors,” Buggy yelled. “Let us in.”

  “Them boogities follow you?” Shaundelle shouted back.

  With her hands full of cameras, Buggy turned to one side and kicked the van door. “Open the frigging door. It’s just us!”

  In that second the door slid open, and Shaundelle motioned for them to get in quickly. “Hurry up before something comes sneakin’ in here with y’all. Where’s Tatman and Jack?”

  With a loud clatter, the back doors of the van flew open, and Tatman all but threw cameras and cable into the cargo area.

  “Get in so I can lock the doors again,” Shaundelle told him.

  “Can’t. Gotta go get the monitor,” Tatman said. He slammed one of the back doors shut and left the second one open. “Jack’s pulling in the rest of the equipment. Y’all need to come help.”

  “You lost your head?” Shaundelle said incredulously. “I ain’t goin’ back in there!”

  “No way, Jose,” Buggy said. “Jack said come to the van, so we’re in the van.”

  “I’ll come,” Nonie said, and opened the passenger door. Just as she turned to get out of the van, Buggy grabbed her arm and pulled her back inside.

  “Stay,” Buggy said, looking Nonie right in the eye. “Stay put.” By the look on Buggy’s face, Nonie knew she wanted to say a hell of lot more than she was saying but kept her words to herself.

  She shook free of Buggy’s grasp. “I’ll be okay. No problem.”

  “No problem?” Shaundelle said loudly. “What’s wrong with you, girl? Didn’t you see that pan floating around all by itself? How can you say no worries? There’s for sure boogities up in that house. Y’all got it on film, on recorder, now it’s time to get the hell outta here.”

  “Won’t be but a minute,” Nonie assured them, then amidst Buggy and Shaundelle’s loud protests, hopped out of the van and hurried back.

  After doing a quick hop, skip and duck onto the porch, she rushed into the house. “What else do you need out of here?” she asked Tatman who was hurriedly wrapping cable around the base of a large monitor.

  “This is all that’s left down here,” he said, glancing nervously over his shoulder toward the kitchen. “Jack’s upstairs collecting the last two stand-alone cameras.”

  They heard a loud clopping sound coming from the stairway and both Tatman and Nonie stood at attention. So did every hair on Nonie’s arms.

  “What the . . .?” Tatman began.

  Jack came swinging past the last landing and bounded down the creaky staircase. “Got them,” he said, holding up two cameras like they were trophies from a last-man-standing contest. “Let’s go.”

  Without so much as a second glance toward the kitchen the three of them hurried for the front door with Nonie and Jack squeezing through it at the same time. Tatman followed so closely behind he might as well have been their shadow.

  Once the rest of the equipment was loaded into the van, the three of them jumped inside, Jack at the wheel. It took him all of two seconds to turn the engine over, slap the gear shift into drive and stomp on the accelerator. The van lurched, then shot out of the driveway like it had been infused with rocket fuel.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  For the last twenty miles, no one spoke a word. Jack drove with his eyes locked onto the road but his mind was filled with everything that had happened at the old plantation. In all the time he’d been doing investigations, never had he witnessed anything so—overtly paranormal.

  The moment they’d left the plantation, everyone in the van seemed to give a collective sigh of relief, then began to talk all at once. They started to recount everything they’d seen or heard from the Richardson house and the plantation. Tatman had kicked off the conversation, then Shaundelle chimed in along with Buggy, each talking over the other. Jack had added his own two cents, but he’d been more interested in what the others had to say as they’d witnessed more than he had. He couldn’t help but notice how quiet Nonie was, however. She only offered a comment or two when directly addressed but didn’t offer a recall of her experiences at all.

  Jack had kept an eye on Nonie from the rearview mirror. She looked distracted, as if wishing everyone would talk about something else for a change. The only time she’d truly interacted with the group was when a small argument broke out between Tatman and Shaundelle.

  “Man, oh, man, we made some moolah tonight!” Tatman had said. “Right, Jack? Those producers can’t deny some of the things we picked up in both houses?”

  “I just hope it shows up when Jack reviews the footage on the cameras and the audio on the recorders,” Buggy said. “Suppose we went through all of that tonight and nothing shows up on film?”

  “Stop being such a party popper,” Shaundelle said.

  “You mean a party pooper,” Tatman corrected.

  Shaundelle batted a hand at him. “Whatever. We caught some good stuff. Better than what those guys on TV get when they go ghost hunting. Me? I think we’re gonna wind up being stars.”

  Tatman snorted. “A falling star maybe. You ran out of that plantation so fast, a comet couldn’t have caught up with you.”

  Shaundelle tsked and flipped her hair away from her shoulder with a hand. “I just wasn’t prepared for that skillet thing. You gots to be prepared for weird shit like that.”

  “You’ve got to be prepared for anything no matter where we go,” Tatman shot back. “It’s not like somebody gives us a what-to-expect map for any of these places. All we know is that they’re supposed to be haunted then get some evidence if it is. You didn’t stick around long enough at the plantation to get anything but a rash from running out so fast. With all the evidence we got, I think they should split your five hundred between me, Nonie, Buggy, and Jack. You didn’t hang around long enough to get jack-shit.”

  “Hey, dude, don’t you be messin’ with my money. I was in the house, saw that pan hangin’ in the air like it was a balloon. That’s enough evidence. My own two eyes.” Shaundelle scooted to the edge of the backseat and tapped Jack on the shoulder. “Ain’t that right, Jack? I get my green for the plantation, right?”

  Not wanting to further the argument, Jack agreed that she’d get paid. He hadn’t counted on any of them running out if they were co
nfronted with an entity. In truth, the fact that Shaundelle had run off without collecting any evidence and would get paid the same as everyone else didn’t feel fair. But he hadn’t established any rules from the get-go, which could have clarified a situation like that. So, to make sure he didn’t forget in the near future, he established it right then and there.

  “From now on, though, if anyone leaves a site without helping to obtain evidence, they’ll have to be excluded from pay. It’s just not fair to the rest who stick around.”

  “Yeah, but what if that evidence can cause danger to one or all of us?” Nonie asked. “You can’t just make us stand there like fools, waiting to get blasted by some pissed-off ghost. There’s got to be some safe word, some sort of protocol if shit starts getting deep. Money’s not worth putting any of us in danger.”

  “That’s different,” Jack said. “If a situation looks or feels dangerous, anyone has the right to get out.”

  “Well, why you think I hauled my butt out that place?” Shaundelle said. “If a floatin’ around frying pan don’t look dangerous, then I don’t know what do.”

  “She’s right,” Buggy said with a hearty nod.

  “I’ll give you that,” Jack said, remembering how the skillet had wound up chasing them all out of the house. If anything, Shaundelle might have been smarter than all of them put together because she’d left before the entity threatened to attack.

  “Let’s just agree to stick together. No one left floating around a location alone, okay?” Jack said. “That way if something comes up and gets out of hand, we’ll all make the call to bail.”

  “Sounds fair enough,” Tatman said.

  “Yeah,” Shaundelle said. “’Cept I ain’t gonna be waitin’ for the rest of you to wise up about what is or ain’t getting’ out of hand. I can see with my own two eyes. The way I sees it, if a spook gets up in our face, we out the place. Now see that? I made a motto for our Krewe. Spook in the face, get out the place. What y’all think?”

  “Works for me,” Buggy said.

  “Sure,” Nonie said quietly, staring out the passenger side window.

  “Work for you, Jack?” Tatman asked before offering his two cents.