by Tony Martin
Bethany had been breathing rapidly. She gasped. “What did you just say?”
“What? About an obsession?”
“No. You said possession.”
Joshua considered this. “I sure did, didn’t I? Hmmmm.”
Bethany slid closer to him. “Joshua, listen to me. If I understand all you’ve been saying here lately, a Christian can’t be possessed. But maybe – just maybe – all that’s been going on hasn’t been directed at just Meredith, although she’s sort of been the center of everything so far.”
“And?”
“I’m wondering…” and it was Bethany’s turn to choose her words carefully, “if all these phenomena aren’t in some way directed at you, too.”
Joshua’s mouth dropped open. “That makes no sense at all.”
“No, follow my reasoning here,” said Bethany, her voice rising in tempo. “I know Precious doesn’t equate these manifestations with satanic or demonic activity. But what if Satan is using Meredith and what is happening out here as a means by which to get at you?”
“Nope,” said Joshua, shaking his head. “I can’t buy that. I’d rather exhaust whatever other possibilities Precious has before we go looking somewhere else. It’s not about me.”
Bethany’s eyes narrowed. “If it’s not about you, then why are you acting the way you have for the last several days?”
“I think I’ve just let this whole thing, this whole package, get the better of me,” Joshua answered. “And I believe that after tonight we’ll get some closure – or at least some new direction. And I’ll put as much space between Meredith and me as possible.”
“Joshua,” said Bethany, “I’m not jealous of Meredith, because I believe you – there’s nothing there, other than what looks like the same stupid attraction you’ve had toward other women ever since we’ve known each other.” Joshua started to protest, but Bethany cut him off. “You know what I mean. I’ve never felt like I was ever in competition with anyone else for your affections. But if you’re not careful, this so-called harmless flirting you engage in is going to really screw things up between you and me. Do you understand what I just said?”
“I do,” said Joshua, who couldn’t muster up the energy to be defensive.
“Now,” said Bethany, “we are going to put this conversation behind us, and we’re going to do whatever Precious asks us to. We are going to help Miss Dubose get out of this mess, along with our friends, and after this is all over you are to be done with her.” She paused, waiting for a response.
Joshua stared at her; his blood was up suddenly. “Dear, you are now officially on thin ice. Don’t you think I’ve got enough sense to know that I don’t need to have any more associations with her?”
“I would certainly hope so,” said Bethany, icicles in her voice. “Think we need to join the others?”
“Tell you what,” said Joshua, some of the venom draining from his tone. “We do. But let’s walk around a little more. I want us to be the picture of calm when we go back.”
Bethany nodded.
“And Bethany,” Joshua said, “I love you. Don’t forget to factor that in, too.”
She glared at him. “I know. And, God help me, I love you, too. But right now I’m wondering what grounds are for justifiable homicide.”
“It ends tonight,” said Joshua. Together, the two walked to the ruins of the slave cabins.
Neither spoke. Joshua turned back to face the house. In the fading twilight, the Dubose mansion was a pale hulk. The wind sighed in the pines overhead. He walked around the foundation of one of the slave cabins, digging occasionally with his toe. Bethany walked a couple of steps behind him.
What would the remainder of the night hold? Bethany watched as Joshua seemed engrossed in one-footed archaeology. She was both angry and relieved. She knew that Joshua was attracted to Meredith – what man wouldn’t at least be appreciative of her extraordinary beauty? – but she believed him when he said there was nothing romantic, even physical, involved.
But Bethany also believed that her flash of insight rang with truth. If whatever was happening surrounding Meredith and the Dubose mansion did have its origin in hell, then it seemed perfectly reasonable to assume that Joshua himself might be a target. What better satanic tactic, she thought, than to have a pastor – a competent, passionate man of integrity – diverted from his mission? And what better way to do that than to divert him with something she’d come to realize was a lifelong fascination? Couple that with the added attraction of a gorgeous college sorority girl, and Bethany realized that this was a volatile situation. Bethany realized that she was going to have to be a guardian of Joshua, to protect him, in some fashion, from what was happening. What else are wives for, she thought wearily.
Bethany went to Joshua’s side. He’d walked to the old smokehouse and was peering through the open door. “Smells in there,” he noted.
“You ready to go back in?” Bethany asked, intertwining her arm with his. He smiled down at her.
“In just a minute,” Joshua said. “Let’s walk over to the gazebo.”
Together the two found the brick path leading from the back of the house to the gazebo, which had paths radiating from it like spokes of a wheel. They huddled in the center of the little structure.
“I’m feeling a little like I’m visiting at Tara,” said Joshua, brushing back the hair from Bethany’s face.
“Oh, Rhett,” sighed Bethany, her voice sugary sweet.
Joshua felt a thrill of excitement sweep through his body like a tsunami. Smiling, her nose charmingly wrinkled, Bethany tilted her head back obediently.
“Gotcha!” a gleeful voice called out, as a blinding flashlight beam pinned the couple. “What are you two lovers up to?” Christine Tracy asked, bounding across the lawn.
Joshua stood motionless, looking like a tenth grader who’d just been caught parking with his girlfriend by a cop. “You really know how to ruin a moment,” said Bethany in unconvincing fury.
Christine cawed with laughter. “Hey, you want us to leave the house to y’all for the evening?”
“You just about caught your pastor doing married things,” said Joshua.
“You mean y’all do things like that?” Christine was having way too much fun, Joshua thought.
“Be fruitful and multiply,” said Bethany as she followed Christine’s light back to the house.
“Precious is ready for us to get started,” Christine said breezily.
“I see Christine is into all this,” said Joshua to Bethany.
“We might as well all be,” said Bethany, entering the great hall.
The rest of the group was assembled. “Christine cheated at Clue,” said Meredith. She smiled at Joshua and Bethany; Joshua avoided her gaze.
“Everyone collect their equipment,” Precious said. In a few moments, everyone had returned with their respective items.
“Everyone got notebooks? Flashlights?”
The group nodded.
“Good,” said Precious. “I’ve already turned on one electric lantern on the second floor landing.” He walked over to the massive fireplace and turned on the other. “We’ll leave the two lanterns in their respective places. Now, I’ll be right back – I’m going to trip the master switch.”
Precious disappeared into the kitchen. In just a moment, the house went dark, save for the lanterns. Christine squealed.
“Hush, now,” Lydia hissed. “Hush!”
Christine fell silent, but even Meredith had to suppress a giggle. For girls frightened halfway out of their wits, thought Joshua, they sure do seem to be having fun.
Everyone turned on their flashlights. The great hall had assumed cavernous proportions. Shadows flitted around the room. In a moment, Precious returned.
“Glad everyone’s still with us,” said Precious. “My intent is to leave the power off until morning. When I flip the master switch again, all the lights we left on will come back on. But, if for some reason we need lights in the middle of the
night, I don’t want anyone stumbling around trying to find wall switches.”
“Now what?” asked Jimmy, struggling to be a good sport.
“It’s eight-thirty,” said Precious. “I want you three men to go on upstairs and wait for me. I’m going to stay down here with the ladies and get them started, just walk them through our procedures – a little hands-on experience. Then I’ll join you upstairs and do the same.”
Joshua, Jimmy, and Al clomped up the stairs. “I’m such a martyr,” said Al at the door to Meredith’s bedroom. “I’m letting Precious have the bed. He said he probably wouldn’t be in it much.”
Joshua and Jimmy left Al arranging his sleeping bag on an air mattress, mumbling. Joshua walked across the upstairs landing to the bedroom he and Jimmy had claimed. Joshua had offered the bed to Jimmy, who was all too happy to take it. “I’ve got old bones,” said Jimmy, “and I’m not in the mood for a campout.”
“You’re taking this all pretty well,” said Joshua.
“I don’t have any choice but to take it, I reckon,” said Jimmy. “I’m operating on denial. But I hope Lydia manages everything.”
Lydia Tracy had a no-nonsense, schoolmarm bearing. Joshua wondered how she was processing all she’d heard, and what her approach was to this evening. He asked Jimmy.
“On the surface, she’s fine,” said Jimmy. “But Joshua, honestly – I think she’s afraid. And that’s not like her. I think she’s more afraid for Christine and Meredith than she is herself.”
“That’s understandable,” said Joshua.
“I know that Christine and Meredith wanted to be in the same bedroom,” Jimmy continued, “but while you and Bethany were out walking, we decided that it’d be best if Lydia and Christine took one bedroom, and Bethany and Meredith took the other.”
Joshua flinched, reacting to this arrangement. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Meredith thinks the world of both you and Bethany. She talks about y’all all the time. I know you two aren’t that much older than she is, but it may be that she is just looking on y’all like surrogate parents, or something.”
Joshua tried to process this. What a terrible misinterpretation of motives, he thought. He’d been wondering if Meredith might be developing some sort of crush on him – and instead, she might be thinking of him as daddy. Joshua didn’t know whether to feel thankful, confused, or disappointed.
He walked carefully out of the bedroom, leaving Jimmy sitting on the bed, and made sure he could find the bathroom in the dark. Downstairs, he could hear Precious with the women.
“Lydia and Bethany, suppose you go ahead and take some photos of the great hall,” said Precious. “Give me several different angles, and make sure you get some up the staircase.”
Lydia complied, with Bethany at her side. They went to each side of the room and took photos in the opposite direction. The electric lantern beside the fireplace cast deep shadows on the walls.
“Come pose,” said Lydia to Christine and Meredith. The two girls climbed up a few steps on the staircase and mugged shamelessly, holding their flashlights under their chins.
“Thanks, girls,” said Bethany. “Now, what exactly are we looking for?”
Precious took Bethany’s digital camera and quickly reviewed her photos. “Nothing there,” he said. “What we’re looking for are orbs, or perhaps even vortices.”
The four women looked at Precious, then at each other. Precious chuckled, a subsonic rumble.
“Sorry, ladies,” he said. “Didn’t mean to get so technical. An orb is simply a bundle of psychic energy. It could be evidence of paranormal activity, and if it is, we can verify it with the EMF meter. The idea is that a disembodied spirit produces energy that may be invisible to the naked eye, but film can record it. A vortex is more of a concentrated energy source, perhaps indicating multiple entities. One huge problem – an orb is ridiculously easy to fake. Dust particles, water droplets, will all show up as floating, transparent spheres on film, especially when illuminated by a flash. Camera straps can cause problems, too.”
“So what’s the point in this?” asked Lydia, eyeing her camera skeptically.
“What we’ll look for is if you photograph an orb, and it leaves a contrail,” said Precious. “It will look almost like a little comet. This is an indication that whatever you took a photo of, it was moving faster than a dust particle. No physical anomalies will leave a contrail. And a vortex will look very much like a small, glowing funnel.”
Bethany reviewed her photos again. “Nothing here, then – no dust or anything.”
“No,” said Precious, “and I’ll wager that when we get the 35mm film developed, we won’t see anything either.”
Bethany wondered if this whole exercise was to be a waste of time. Then Christine waved around her digital recorder. “What about this thing?” she asked.
“You’ll like this,” said Precious. “Join me on the stairs.”
Precious and the four women sat on the stairs. Christine caught herself looking around with a chill – the shadows were disconcerting as they loomed overhead. “Precious --” she began.
“Let me show you,” said Precious, “and you’ll feel silly at first. There’s a certain amount of play-acting that goes on in these investigations. Just press the record button.”
Christine did so, and a red LED came to life. She heard no sound from the recorder.
“Christine, I’m going to ask that you let the recorder work for five minutes,” said Precious. “As with the cameras, the machine places a digital imprint of the date and time on the recording. Now, let’s be very still for a moment.”
The group fell silent. The wind, barely discernable, sighed around the house. They heard the occasional creak and pop common to all old houses. Then Precious spoke:
“Hello. Is anyone there? Does anyone wish to say anything?”
Christine gagged, trying to hold in her laughter.
“I told you it would seem silly,” said Precious. “Don’t feel bad. But when we play back the recording, you might be surprised at what we hear.”
“Yeah, OK,” said Christine. She glanced over at Meredith, whose face was taut with silent laughter.
Lydia spoke. “Precious, I’m really struggling with all this.”
“I’m sure you are,” he said. “But thanks for going along. Now, let’s be quiet for just a few minutes.”
What were undoubtedly just a few moments seemed excruciatingly long. Other than the faint ambient noises from inside and outside the house, there was silence. The slightest motion seemed too loud as the women shifted their positions on the stairs.
“Would anyone like to speak to us?” asked Precious again. Silence.
“If anything answers,” said Bethany, “that front door is mine.”
The group, including Precious, snickered. “OK, that’s enough,” said Precious. “You can turn your recorder off. I want you to try again in a half-hour. And, as uncomfortable and funny as it may sound, ask if anyone wants to speak.”
“I will,” said Christine, “but I’ve got to tell you, this is getting goofier by the minute.”
Precious started up the stairs. “And it may be just as goofy all night. But just humor me by staying the course. I’m going to walk the men through this same procedure. Be sure and make and entry in your journals – and, Lydia and Bethany, I want you to get some outside photos. Use your flashlights and be careful. Oh, and Bethany – turn on your headset, and sing out if you need me.”
“Roger,” said Bethany, donning her headset and grinning stupidly.
Precious called the men together and took them through the same regimen as the women. “I sure am wasting a lot of film looking for orbs,” Jimmy said. He’d assumed an air of weary resignation. He just about guffawed himself hoarse when Joshua deployed the digital recorder, and Precious asked his “is anyone there?” questions.
“You know,” Jimmy said, wiping away tears, “this may not be a bad evening after all. I haven’t laughed like
this since – well, I’ve never laughed like this.”
Precious was not fazed in the least. “It’s OK for this to be fun,” he said. “But, if things start getting serious, you’ll find things aren’t as funny. I’m not scolding – just stating facts from experience.”
“It’s still not particularly funny to me,” said Al. “My nerves are playing banjo music.”
“You’ll be fine, Alphonsus,” said Precious.
“I’m sure I will, Hardwick.”
“I’m going to prowl around a bit with the EMF meter,” said Precious. “I’ll stay on this floor unless I’m needed downstairs.”
Joshua watched him leave. Jimmy looked first at Al, then Joshua.
“I think I’m handling all this pretty well,” Jimmy said.
“You are,” said Joshua. “But Jimmy, if nothing else, we can use Precious’ work to either affirm or deny what is happening.”
Jimmy thought a moment. “There is that business of those wet footprints.”
“You are right,” said Joshua, reaching for his journal. In moments, he was trying to position his flashlight so that he could write.
Chapter Fifteen - Escalation
Downstairs, the four women were in the parlor. Christine was sprawled, very unladylike, across one sofa. Meredith sat on the floor while Christine played with her blonde hair.
“Could be a long night,” said Bethany, adjusting her headset.
“Could be,” said Lydia. She was looking out the French doors onto the verandah. Lydia had just finished her first journal entry: 8:45 p.m. – absolutely nothing happened.
“Hey, Precious,” called Bethany. “Could we light some candles?”
“Absolutely,” came Precious’ crackling reply. “I sort of discourage candles – we don’t want to burn the house down – but you are adults, after all.”
“Some of us, anyway,” said Bethany, listening to Meredith and Christine dissolve into helpless giggles. “Orlando Bloom is hot,” she overheard one say.
“Meredith,” said Bethany, “can you help me find some candles?”
“Sure,” said Meredith, making a show of struggling to her feet. “Ow, my foot’s asleep.”