Nightmare

by Robin Parrish

  I sighed. "Didn't you say your parents were Christians?"

  She turned to me slowly and nodded.

  "Then ... don't you believe they're in heaven?" I couldn't help frowning, because Jordin once again defied my understanding. "I mean, I'm not an expert or anything, but as beliefs go, that's a pretty universal one for Christians. If you're a believer, then when you die, you go to heaven. Right? Don't you believe that, too?"

  "Sure I do," Jordin replied. "It just ... never gets any easier. Being without them. I guess I never really thought of heaven as a prison. It's supposed to be a reward, not a confinement."

  "Got me," I said. It was a nice thought, but I doubted that most believers would accept it. "The way my mom always describes heaven, it sounds like a place so great that you'd never want to leave."

  Before I could stop it, bitterness crept to the surface as I thought of how Jordin had abandoned me in the bowels of the North Carolina. She still didn't know what had happened to me down there because I hadn't told her, but I was most hurt by the fact that when we were down there, she didn't even stop long enough to make sure I was okay. She just kept running, kept chasing, kept pursuing this obsession. But I didn't know what it was like to grow up without parents, either, I told myself. I wondered if the thought of getting back someone I'd lost would be enough to drive me to such mania.

  Jordin still looked far away, but she snapped back suddenly after the room had been silent a little too long. "There's something I'd like to try. It's kind of extreme, but I think it might bring me a step closer to reaching my parents."

  I didn't like the sound of that. "Okay..."

  "That inhuman face we captured at the cemetery, it got me thinking about aspects of the paranormal we haven't got into yet, and I can't help wondering if trying other avenues of the paranormal might yield different results.... There's this old abandoned church in New Jersey I want to visit. It's called Mount Hope Methodist Episcopal, and locals say it's not only haunted, it's possessed by a dark spirit."

  My face hardened and my muscles clenched. "Absolutely not. What you call Mount Hope is nicknamed the `Satanic Church of New Jersey.' Actually wanting to go there is something I would describe as madness-especially for someone with as little experience as you've had, no offense. It could be a demonic haunt."

  "I looked it up, and there's no evidence that there's an actual demon living in that place," said Jordin, crossing her arms. "It's an urban myth. And even if there is, I have nothing to fear from it. It can't touch me. I'm a Christian! Derek always says, `I've been bought with the blood of Jesus Christ, and against that, the forces of darkness have no power.' "

  My jaw was clenching involuntarily and I forced it to relax as I replied, "My mother would disagree. She always warned, `The powers of darkness have no power except that which passes through God's hands.' Sometimes God allows bad things to happen to test you. To test us. To grow us and mold our character."

  Jordin hesitated, thoughtful. "Okay, yeah, that sounds familiar, too. But even still, there's no way He would let one of His followers come to any actual harm at the hands of a demon."

  I had an impulsive thought. "Are you telling me the truth about your reasons, Jordin? Is this really about contacting your parents? I mean, I know you've acquired a taste for the paranormal, and I know how addictive the thrill of the hunt can be, but-"

  "This isn't about feeding some addiction," she replied.

  "Then what?! What on earth would drive you to such an extreme as this? I can't believe your parents would ever want their daughter to go near something like this."

  Jordin's expression turned grim. "If you won't take me, I'll go by myself."

  "Are you crazy? You stay away from that place! You hired me because of my expertise, and my expertise forbids you to go there."

  Her eyebrows rose, but she didn't smile. "You work for me. You don't get to forbid anything."

  I stared her down, wanting to grab her by the shoulders and shake some sense into her. Another idea occurred to me.

  "I'll tell Derek," I threatened.

  "I'll withhold payment for the last trip if you do. And I would remind you that it's a triple-sized payment for three separate stops."

  So that was how it was going to be. She knew all too well that the money card worked with me, because she'd played it before. And once again, my need for funds was railing against my better judgment.

  "I'm going," Jordin said, closing the book on the subject. "Come with me, or don't."

  Martha's Vineyard has been called the most haunted island in the world, with dozens if not hundreds of scattered sightings. Finding the one Jordin was investigating when she was abducted wasn't going to be easy, and my best guess was thatJordin would go after the most notorious places first. That was certainly her M.O. when we were investigating together. She only wanted to visit the places most likely to generate results.

  Derek and I started with the most public spots we could access, assuming Jordin would have done the same. We asked around at shops, the post office, the police department, some local churches. No one remembered seeing her, there were just too many tourists fitting Jordin's description that visited the area.

  After searching seven different locations, we retreated to the truck around nine o'clock to search for a place to stay for the night.

  Earlier in the day we had found much to talk about, but now we had retreated into silence. Tired, hungry, and discouraged, I stared out of my side window, watching the quaint brick sidewalks speed past.

  "Stop the truck! Stop!" I shouted, sitting up ramrod-straight.

  Derek slammed on the brakes in a panic, and the screech was earsplitting. "What?!"

  "Over there!" I pointed out my window. Something had caught my eye. Something that shouldn't have been there.

  "What? The graveyard?"

  Instead of responding, I opened my door and got out of the truck. I ran through an empty field toward the graveyard, my adrenaline surging. I was more sure of what I'd seen with every step.

  Derek parked the pickup near the sidewalk and caught up with me where I stopped. The graveyard was surrounded by a tall iron fence, and the gate, which had doors that curved up on both sides to form an arch, was the highest part of all. I grabbed the iron bars and looked desperately through them, trying to see if I could catch a glimpse of what I had seen again.

  "Maia, what did you see?" Derek asked, panting for breath. He stared at me instead of the graveyard, interested only in my answer.

  I glanced at him sidelong, wondering what I should say. The edge of my vision had only caught the briefest of glimpses, from a significant distance. There was no way to be completely certain, and I didn't want to upset him.

  "I saw a girl," I said.

  Derek turned to the graveyard, fatigue filling his eyes. "I don't see anyone, Maia. The place is empty. Which isn't really surprising, since the sun's been down for two hours.... Your eyes are playing tricks on you, you're just tired-"

  "It was Jordin."

  Derek stopped short and twisted his head in my direction so fast I was afraid he would sprain his neck.

  "Are you sure?" he asked.

  "No! I'm not sure at all!" I replied, drained and not wanting to have to explain myself.

  I couldn't tell him it was definitely Jordin. I had no proof, and as tired as I was, it was entirely possible that my bleary eyes were seeing things.

  But I knew it. It was her. I don't know if it was some latent paranormal investigator's instinct or if Jordin had pricked my consciousness somehow to let me know beyond a doubt that she was trying to get my attention. But I knew it was her.

  "I think she was trying to get our attention," I explained. "Maybe she wants to help us find the journal."

  "Then where did she go?" Derek asked, examining the graveyard again, desperately looking for his love. "If she could appear enough to get your attention, why couldn't she just stand there and point out the journal's location to us?"

  "It doesn't work that
way," I said, still not in the mood to give any lessons in the paranormal just now. "Ghosts that manifest visibly can rarely do it for very long. It's like it requires some great exertion and they can't maintain it."

  I could hear Derek breathing loudly as he considered this, still studying the interior of the cemetery. "Where did you see her?"

  I pointed through the bars. "Over there somewhere ... near some of those big headstones in the back."

  The grave markers I'd pointed out were in the far left corner of the smallish cemetery.

  "We need a way in," said Derek, and he was already scanning the area around us, searching for a means of getting inside.

  It wasn't going to be easy. The fence was topped all the way around with black metal spikes. They didn't look sharp, but they were more than nine feet in the air, so I couldn't imagine a scenario where we might try to climb over them and not be impaled, even if they were blunt.

  Despite my misgivings, Derek tried to do that very thing.

  There were only two horizontal bars, one near the top and one near the bottom. They didn't provide much leverage, so Derek actually tried to climb up the fence using nothing but his hands gripping the vertical bars. It didn't go well. With the running he'd just done a few minutes earlier and now the sudden urgency he was feeling, his hands were too sweaty to get a solid grip.

  Derek grunted with the effort, and the ensuing frustration. "Okay, plan B," he growled, and turned to march back to his truck.

  My stomach churned. I had no idea what he had in mind, but I assumed it would be something reckless. Exhaustion was never a good companion of desperation.

  I had turned back to study the interior of the cemetery once more when I heard the engine of his truck start up behind me in the distance.

  When I turned to look, Derek had jumped the sidewalk curb and the truck was plowing through the empty field headed straight for me. My breath caught in my throat for a second but then I collected my wits and jumped aside. Seconds later, his truck battered straight through the huge iron gate, crashing the two doors wide open. He slammed on his brakes just in time to avoid running into the nearest graves.

  "What are you doing?!" I cried as he stepped out of the truck.

  "I'm not a ghost hunter, Maia, and I'm out of my depth with all this paranormal stuff. But I'm getting my fiancee back," he declared. He grabbed a shovel out of the back of the truck and started striding toward the back left corner of the graveyard.

  I grabbed my flashlight out of the front seat and then had to walk fast to keep up with him. "Do you know how illegal what you're doing is?"

  He threw me an ugly glance. "Do you know how much I don't care? Somebody has taken my girlfriend and literally sucked her soul out of her body. She needs my help, and if I ever want to touch her, hold her, or kiss her ever again, I need that journal! If I broke the stupid fence, I'm sure Jordin will gladly pay to have it fixed or replaced once we get her back in her body, where she belongs. Good grief, I can't believe I just said that."

  Once again, I was seeing a new side of Derek. But I didn't know what to make of this one. He was so rigid, so polite, so straightlaced.... I wouldn't have thought he had a dangerous or unpredictable cell in his body. The stress and exhaustion were getting to him, stripping away his filters and boundaries.

  "What's with the shovel?" I asked. "You think she buried it?"

  "Makes sense, doesn't it?" he replied. "If she had time, if she was being chased or something, she would have wanted to hide it where it wouldn't be found."

  It did make sense. Though in my mind, I'd always pictured her being snatched without having a chance to make a run for it. I don't know why; it was just how I thought about it.

  "Maybe she was investigating here," I mused. It was an old graveyard; I saw dates on some of the tombstones going back to the 1800s.

  We reached the back corner and started our search.

  "Why was all this so important tojordin?" Derek asked as he grabbed the flashlight from me and scanned the graveyard.

  I heard the pain in his question and part of me wanted to tell him what I knew. But it wasn't my place.

  "She was obsessed with the paranormal, Derek," I said, taking the flashlight back. "Obsession doesn't usually adhere to logic." It was a cop-out answer, stating the obvious. I knew it. But I couldn't think of anything else to say.

  Derek stopped where he was, a few rows over from me. "Why won't you tell me?!" he shouted. "I have a right to know!"

  A beam of light lit up Derek where he stood, and I turned to see that it was coming from a flashlight.

  A policeman stood in the cemetery, less than twenty feet from us, and he wasn't happy.

  "You two partying a little too hard tonight?" the cop asked. I figured it was probably the hundredth time he'd asked it to kids our age.

  "No, sir," I said. "No partying. We're looking for a friend." It was kind of true.

  "File a missing persons report," he replied mechanically, "after I run you in for breaking down the fence. This is private property."

  Derek tried to argue, his temper still flaring. "We've tried filing missing persons reports, we've tried everything we can think of, and no one will help us!"

  If I hadn't seen and done the things I had seen and done in my life, I might not have noticed what happened next. The brisk night air was subtly and slowly being replaced by a bitter chill. I doubt Derek or the cop were conscious of the shift.

  The cop opened his mouth to argue back at Derek, but the words caught in his throat. Choking, he put both his hands up around his neck, trying in vain to pull away invisible fingers that were squeezing off his ability to breathe. His eyes bulged, and he started to sway.

  I ran, hoping to catch him before he fell to the ground, but at the last second, his arm flew straight out and I slammed facefirst into his fist.

  The next thing I remember is opening my eyes while flat on my back. The cop was standing above me holding his gun straight out at Derek, but I could tell from the horrified look on his face that he wasn't in control of his actions. He didn't look like he was possessed, either, though. I'd seen a few possessions and they were nothing like this.

  It was instead like a powerful apparition was maneuvering him like a puppet. It had weakened him first by closing off his air supply, making the rest of his body malleable. Then it had pulled his strings, knocking me to the ground and holding Derek at bay with the cop's pistol.

  I tried to sit up but something shoved me back down onto my back, hard. It knocked the wind out of me, and I was reminded again of how cold the air had become in the cemetery. I noticed I couldn't move now. I could no longer raise myself up. Something was pinning me to the grass.

  I could see the cop's finger trembling as it hovered at the gun's trigger, and I prayed that in the fleeting seconds while I had blacked out, he hadn't already shot Derek.

  My chest felt like a cannonball had landed on top of it, jump-starting my heart and causing it to beat painfully hard. I couldn't see a way out of this. I had been around the paranormal all my life, but never had I been forced to fight it.

  "Derek?!" I cried out. "Are you hurt?"

  His voice came from nearby, and it was high enough up off the ground that I could tell he was still standing more or less where I'd last seen him. "Not for the moment."

  "Something's here!" I called to him. "I can't move. It's holding me down. It's trying to make the cop shoot you!"

  When Derek didn't immediately answer, I found my flashlight on the ground nearby and craned my neck backward on the ground, trying to spot him. I saw him standing in front of a large grave marker, but he was perfectly still and his eyes were closed.

  Then they snapped open. With more power and authority than I'd ever heard come from his mouth, he strongly stated, "In the name of Jehovah the Most High and His Son Jesus Christ, you are commanded to leave this place! The Holy Spirit compels you: Be gone!"

  The pressure let up from whatever was holding me down, and I saw the cop's eyes
roll up into his head just before he went limp and collapsed on top of me. A warm air descended upon us and I wrapped myself in its soothing heat.

  Derek appeared quickly and rolled the cop over and off me, and helped me to my feet. I could see the policeman's chest rising and falling, but he was out cold.

  I looked at Derek anew, swallowing hard. "That was ..." I couldn't find the words. "That was really good."

  Derek was all business, and I was glad to see his maniacal phase had passed. "Would it be safe to say that that was not the garden-variety paranormal activity?"

  I nodded.

  "Right. Let's find that journal."

  It was less than ten minutes before we'd uncovered it. As Derek had suspected, it was buried, hidden just a few inches down in the sediment of a freshly dug grave. Derek was very careful to respectfully replace all of the dirt he had to dig up, making it appear that the ground had never been disturbed.

  Per our agreement, he let me have the first look at the journal. I decided to wait until we were back in the truck and on the road before I cracked it open.

  I skipped straight past the entries on our trips to the back of the journal, looking for Jordin's final entry. Two minutes later, my expression must have changed drastically, because Derek picked up on it.

  "What?" he said. "Talk to me."

  I stared at the pages again, still not believing the words it bore. "I don't think Jordin was abducted."

  "What do you mean?"

  I skipped backward in time through the journal, scanning page after page. "What's happened to her is something she wanted. According to this, she had a planned meeting at the graveyard with somebody who works for DHI, and she wrote in the journal that DHI was going to help her find what she was looking for. They were going to make it a reality. And a lot of her earlier entries talk about wanting to reach `the other side,' to see it and feel it and go there. As in, physically. I think she meant the spirit realm. All that time she spent investigating the paranormal with me ... what she was after was a way in."