by Aiden James
We played as if we were on fire that night, and we all felt fantastic about our prospects. But I was leaving much later than planned, and I prepared myself for a well-deserved butt chewing from Fiona, Ed, or both.
Driving home with the midnight temperature sitting at a balmy forty-one degrees, according to the dash thermometer in my car, I listened to my MP3 copy of that night’s rehearsal. It sounded even better through the Camaro’s stereo system, and I kept it cranked up until I hit the Cool Springs area on I-65 south. I hadn’t forgotten about Angie’s favored visitation point and prepared myself for her inevitable taunts to interrupt my joyful ride home. But other than a gust blowing against the car, she was silent. Hell, I didn’t even feel her presence…no prickly sensations along the back of my neck.
She left me alone that night. At least I’m pretty sure she did. As I unpacked the Camaro and prepared to step inside our home through the back door, I thought I saw a shadowed form standing near the tree line along the back edge of our property. But when I glanced again after flicking on the kitchen light and setting my shit on the floor, there was no one there.
Maybe it was foolhardy, but I didn’t believe for a minute that Angie’s ghost would follow me inside the safety of a house blessed by burning sage. Really, I should’ve been more worried about three guys and an Uzi watching our place. But the blissful reverie from just an hour earlier wouldn’t let me worry about it. I didn’t fret about anything, other than sneaking under the covers and inching closer to my sleeping wife without her knowing it.
Her gentle snores let me know all was well, and that my latest mission was indeed a success. I listened to her sleep rhythm and tried to clear my mind of all else. Soon, like her, I was fast asleep.
Chapter Sixteen
“So, how did we get rooked into this again?”
“Well, as I was trying to tell you last night, while you were playing Deathly Hollows on the Playstation with Alex and Ryan, this is largely your fault,” said Fiona, shooting me a knowing look that was laced with irritation.
“How so?”
I had an idea what she meant, but I wasn’t about to volunteer information that could easily worsen the weather in Jimmy-land. Fortunately, I had a nice distraction following the caravan of vehicles that had set out for Jefferson City, Tennessee from a Pilot truck stop near Mount Juliet a few hours ago. It was nearing three o’clock, Saturday afternoon, and we were off to visit the former capstone event from our original Civil War ghost tour agenda.
Fiona would’ve preferred doing the driving today, but since she’s better navigating mountain roads at night, the plan was for her to handle the driving duties on our return journey to Nashville Sunday evening, after our investigation of Mossy Creek and the rest of our trip had been completed. Meanwhile, the topic of what this particular investigation was supposed to accomplish inspired our latest conversation, and pulled us away from a retro medley of Amanda Marshall, Stevie Nix, and my wife’s favorite eighties band, Duran Duran.
“You said something to Jerry about the original tour, and he called Jackie, and later Tom, to say how bad he felt for you that we didn’t include this last site for the tour,” she said, as we lumbered along I-40 heading east. “If it was for a bigger Civil War battle, maybe we would’ve come here anyway. Did I tell you that Ned Stamos and his wife Shirley will be waiting for us when we get there?”
“No...no, you didn’t,” I said. “Is it just them, or will more folks from TCP be there, as well?”
“All fifteen members are coming,” she said, and I sensed her irritation was from having to repeat details that I should’ve recalled from an earlier conversation. “Terry and Felix have professional grade video cameras, and Ned hopes they can produce a segment worthy of inclusion with our other investigations, after everything gets resolved.”
No doubt, she was referring to our current situation, where our paranormal television program remained in danger of being completely canceled. I took it as a positive sign that Fiona spoke as if it would get resolved in our favor.
“We should give it our best shot today, then. It was thoughtful of Jerry to think of me that way…. But, once Ed finds out about this, I’m sure he’ll blame me for it.” I pictured the old Detective Silver and his open disdain for me, and what he used to describe as my ‘cavalier behavior’. “I don’t imagine anyone mentioned this trip to him, or did they?”
“We didn’t think it would be a good idea—especially after Ned, Shirley, and everyone else associated with Tri-Cities Paranormal were beyond excited about this opportunity,” said Fiona, turning down the radio a few more notches, since likely we’d be discussing this subject for much longer than she had initially anticipated. “He’ll never know, unless someone in our group tells him.”
“Or, once he sees the televised investigation segments, and doesn’t recognize the event as being one that he attended.”
I added a wry smile to make sure she knew this wasn’t a criticism of anything she said.
“He wasn’t there when we visited Shiloh and Chattanooga.” She gave me a smug nod.
“True, but he has a nose for finding the truth that’s almost as impressive as his pursuit of off-limits pussy.”
“He has a girlfriend now,” she countered, coolly.
I didn’t have to look her way to realize Fiona was glaring at me. Hell, I could feel it. Even my seat felt warmer, and I glanced at the seat heater switch just to make sure I hadn’t inadvertently turned it on.
“I’m just kidding, sweetie,” I said, smiling sheepishly and blowing a small kiss to my wife that went unnoticed. Well, I suppose it was noticed…it just didn’t disarm those fiery green lasers of hers. “Speaking of which, do you think it will become serious between him and…her name is Cindy, right?”
“I hope so,” she said, and I could almost feel the heat move away from my head and torso as she turned her attention back to the road ahead of us. The latest road signs for Knoxville and the exit north to Jefferson City were coming up. “Mainly for your sake, since you have an almost neurotic obsession with him.”
What?!
“You don’t mean that.”
Now I was the one getting hot, as in under the collar. The only obsession I had ever known in regard to Mr. Ed was in picturing me pummeling his face until his pussy-tickling moustache fell off and his expensive veneers cracked open to reveal the mealy teeth stubs hidden inside. Not that I would ever actually do such a thing. For all his shortcomings, I knew there was some good inside Detective Silver—even before a girl named Cindy came along.
“You are so silly, hon’,” she said, a little more lovingly. “Neurotic obsession doesn’t have to be sexual in nature. Some Titans’ fans are just as obsessive, and even I’m that way when it comes to Duran Duran.” She laughed.
“Give me some time to get past the way he used to be,” I said, hoping that she saw my obsession was strictly hostile protectiveness of my territory. Namely the sanctity of my union with her—and I never worry about unfaithfulness on her part. It just rankles me that someone—namely Ed—seemed to disregard that sanctity. Here lately, though, he seemed a bit less flirtatious.
“People can change,” said Fiona, letting me know again that my thoughts were an open book to her.
“I hope so,” I conceded, and then sought to change the subject. My wife’s immediate grateful smile told me she was still in my head. “Okay, so why are we meeting a mile away from where most of the Mossy Creek battle took place?”
“You mean the old barn that Jerry mentioned?”
“Yes.”
“It’s not that far from the Branner graveyard,” said Fiona, and then she pointed to the exit for Jefferson City. Like I’d somehow miss the damned sign. “And, we’ve got an exclusive visitation arranged for that section of the property, since it is far enough off the beaten path from the main house.”
“What house is that again?”
“You know…the Glenmore Mansion.”
“Ah, yeah…I remember
now,” I said, recalling how stately the Victorian estate that was now a museum looked in the day…and how frigging creepy it looked at night. It was like Donald Trump versus the Adams Family in contrast. “That’s the house with the lantern ghost in the attic, and the Branner spinster sisters who are supposed to walk the hallowed halls deep into the night.”
“There’s almost no evidence for either apparition,” she said, chuckling. “If you had read further, you’d know that most of the house’s haunting accounts are pretty much local urban legends.”
“Isn’t that a misnomer of sorts? I mean, I can already see around here that it’s mainly farms and woodlands…. What in the hell is urban about that shit?” I laughed, and then saw she wasn’t quite as amused as me. “Darlin’, the only urban going on around these parts is the guitarist-married-to-a-movie-star Urban croonin’ some hard luck country song, and nothin’ else.”
“I guess it’s a good thing that we’re here to explore the other ghosts, then, huh?” My wife sounded perturbed again…but it hit me, suddenly, that it might not have anything to do with my playful jest from a moment ago. “Where we’re going, there have been a number of soldier sightings.”
“Doesn’t the Branner Cemetery have like a hundred and fifty unmarked graves in it?”
“Yes, it does. In fact, that’s the reason it was originally suggested by Jackie to be added to the tour, back in September,” Fiona advised. “Confederate and Union soldiers lie side by side…and none of these unfortunate souls were ever identified.”
“Jerry said something about the barn being haunted. What’s that all about?”
“Jackie told me the same thing yesterday, and her information comes from Ned and Shirley. Apparently, there have been sightings of soldiers and an officer on a horse.”
“Really?”
That surprised the hell out of me, actually. A soldier and his ghost horse. It sounded so Legend of Sleepy Hollow. I immediately dismissed that notion out of hand.
“Are these spirits mostly Union or Confederate ghosts?”
“Now you’re just being silly, Jimmy. People report that both armies are well represented.”
She was right, as I had heard the same thing from other researchers in the past. But frankly, I looked forward to the couple of hours spent investigating this site to be over. Yeah, I know, what a sorry excuse for a ghost hunter, right? But our oldest son was about to have a birthday in a couple of days, and Christmas Eve would arrive on its heels one day later. We hadn’t had a chance to finish our shopping for either event, and I looked forward to visiting one of the factory outlet malls in Knoxville before my wife and I checked into a romantic cabin in Sevierville for the night. Since we had to get back to Nashville before it got too late tomorrow, any head start we could gain on getting out of this investigation at a decent hour tonight would be heartily welcomed by me.
We soon reached the Jefferson City limits and Fiona turned up her favorite Duran Duran tune, Save a Prayer. Odd coincidence, I thought, but we were already pulling up to our predetermined meeting place along the old AJ Highway when I thought to say something about it.
“We’ll want to follow Jackie in through the gate once she pulls in after the boys and Tom,” she advised. “It looks like everyone else is here.”
Indeed, several cars and an old Chevy Suburban were pulled onto the dormant grass to the right of the barn and across from a large leafless elm. The old barn sat behind it, and beyond it was a thick wooded area that wasn’t far from one of the small tributaries that fed Mossy Creek.
It’s always a little strange for me to consider that roughly one hundred and fifty years ago, young men from both sides of the conflict lost their lives in the smaller skirmishes that happened nearly every day during the Civil War. The Battle of Mossy Creek was a little bigger, but no more significant than many other little encounters, like the one at Spring Hill that preceded the Battle of Franklin.
I could picture the frightened and hopeless faces of these men, who hadn’t seen their loved ones in more than a year. For some, the most recent Christmas that had taken place just four days before the December 29 battle in 1863 was their second consecutive Christmas away from home. I had read the journals of soldiers from this particular battle the last time we were in the area, two years ago. They talked about the loneliness of celebrating the most cherished holiday at the time with only their comrades, some of whom would be dead in the coming weeks and months as the conflict carried on through its third year. Many of the soldiers died from exposure to the elements or starvation, and moving into the fourth year of the war those numbers rose sharply.
“Are you going to just sit there, Jimmy?
“Huh? Oh, sorry about that. Just thinking about how it was back in the old days,” I said, and opened my door to get out. “I’ll get your door, babe.”
“No, that’s fine, hon’—I’ve got it. Go ahead and grab our gear out of the trunk.”
She was already out of the car before I had shut my door, and was on her way to see Jackie, who was parked next to Tom’s Navigator. That’s really where we should’ve parked, too, but the ground was not as rutty closer to the Chevy Suburban. I just prayed I wasn’t regretting the decision later if we got a lovely dent from the old beat-up truck.
The Thomas twins, or boys as Fiona had referred to them, parked their truck nearest to the gate, and I watched Jason hurry over to the gate to close it.
“Hey, Jimmy—I can’t wait for us all to check out the barn, man!” he called to me, before jogging to where his older brother stood with Ricky and Tony. “Ned told Tom to make sure that one of us closed the gate after we were all in here, so no unwanted trespassers could sneak in while we’re gathering evidence.”
“Well, I hope we catch something worthwhile this evening, Jason.”
I hoped it also wouldn’t get much colder, since Fiona also mentioned something about the barn missing a lot of its roof planks. That could mean some more moisture orbs could be in store for us. Meanwhile, Tony and Ricky were cutting up with Jerry, and it seemed that the three had become fast friends in a remarkably short period of time. I noticed Michelle had moseyed over to Jason, and they seemed to have hit it off, as well—although assuredly plutonic, since she doesn’t roll the hetero way. Then again, that might be the dude’s fantasy. But everyone seemed to be getting along exceptionally well, and I was impressed that our new cohorts seemed to fit in quite nicely.
“Hey, Jimmy—why don’t you and Justin grab the cords we’ll need for the monitors to be set up in the barn,” Tony called to me.
“I’d love to, but I’ve sort of got my hands full, man.”
At the moment, I held my wife’s and my cameras, audio recorder, and our EMF detectors.
“Hey, hon’, I’ll carry those,” offered Fiona, smiling sweetly as she rejoined me at our car.
She looked as if she had a pretty cool secret to share with me, but I could also tell that I’d have to wait to find out what it was. Must’ve been something she had just learned from Jackie. She gave me a quick kiss and then left to rejoin Jackie and Tom as they moved toward the barn.
“Well, I guess I’ll be carrying some cords, huh?”
“Guess so—just you and me, bro,” said Justin. “Let’s go get loaded up.”
I hadn’t seen him sneak up to me from behind, and I jumped a little. I’d never admit to it, of course, unless someone caught that moment on tape. Good thing our camera crew trio from Nashville wasn’t present for that fun nugget.
“It’s good to be here with you, Justin.”
“It’s good that I don’t have to hang with anyone else tonight,” he said, keeping his voice to just above a whisper as we approached the back of Tom’s SUV.
“Here, Jimmy, you carry the audio cords,” said Tony, as he unloaded several rolled cords into my arms. “And, Justin, you take the video cords and connectors. You know how to space them out, right?”
“Sure, man, just load ‘em on me.”
It seemed like Ju
stin got the worse end of the deal, since he ended up with six, thick video cord rolls over his shoulders and arms, while holding the connectors for each in his hands. I relieved him of one of the cords and two of the connectors, and then he and I set out for the barn, moving quickly since these suckers would get heavy in a moment. I noticed the sun was beginning to disappear along the western horizon. I had forgotten that this area was an hour ahead of Nashville, and it was nearing 4:00 p.m. our time when we parked, yet in reality, it was almost five o’clock in Jefferson City.
“It looks like everyone but you has become fast friends with Jason and Jerry,” I said, quietly, once we were at the head of the line moving toward the back of the barn. “You still think they’re a couple of redneck racists?”
“I surely do,” he said. Normally a comment like that would come with the impish grin my buddy is known for. But his expression was reserved, and I could tell that something was truly bothering him. “No one was this chummy until we all got together Wednesday night. Lots of liquor was on tap that night, man, and you know what it can do to people’s perception and perspectives. That’s when Jerry brought up your idea, and then Tony and Ricky talked Tom and Jackie into coming here. I was outvoted.”
“I only mentioned it in passing, man,” I said, not liking the fact I was on the defensive. “I’m sorry, Justin. I never thought anything would come of it. But it looks like everybody else is really into this investigation. Maybe you should try to enjoy it as best as possible. That’s what I’m doing.”
He shot me a look that warned me to tread carefully.
“Seriously, man, I’m just looking forward to getting this over with as quickly as possible. Then, Fiona and I will make a romantic night of it, and get the hell out of Deliverance County tomorrow afternoon.” I nudged him with one of the cord rolls so he would look me in the eye. “Hey, I would’ve voted to shoot this shit down, too, if I had been there Wednesday night. But I never knew about the meeting. I have weekly band practice that night—remember? Besides, Fiona never mentioned any meeting to me. She wasn’t there, right?”