Death Theory

by John Mimms

  Chapter 20

  DEBBIE ARRIVED AT DR. Staples’ office on time the next morning. The nightmare took a blessed holiday and she enjoyed a rare eight hours of uninterrupted sleep. She was more relaxed today than she had been in a long time. Familiarity with Dr. Staples helped, but it wasn’t the reason. Jeff made her troubles disappear. He made her feel safe.

  Of course, she was unaware of a voyeur watching from a Waffle House booth across the street. Pac’s newfound confidence came from resolving things with his family. He was on a mission this morning. He intended to ask Debbie for a date. Pac would follow her for a little while, but only for a little while. He had not lost all sense of decorum. His hope was she would go to some store, gas station, or restaurant where he could stage a ‘chance’ meeting. He might follow her home, but he wouldn’t stop there. It would be too weird. He watched her over his usual greasy bowl of chili, ogling her posterior as she went in the door.

  Debbie made a huge breakthrough, though not as large as she would have liked.

  “Wonderful Debbie! Take it one step at a time,” Dr. Staples said. “One step at a time is the healthy way to go; the rest will come in time.”

  Debbie already realized the little girl squatting in the floor was her. She also now remembered the unknown object she crouched beside in her nightmare. It was a person. She did not know the gender, ethnicity, or even if the person was a child. Despite that, Dr. Staples considered it a huge breakthrough.

  “Who do you think it is?” she asked.

  “I have no idea, Debbie. Even if I had a theory, it would be inappropriate for me to comment. These are your memories, and must come to the surface on your terms.”

  Despite her frustration, she did believe they were heading in the right direction.

  “Are you going to the investigation?” he asked.

  “Yes, I’m sorry you can’t make it. It should be very interesting,” Debbie said, and then gave a brief recounting of their visit with Mrs. Schwender. When she finished, Dr. Staples slapped his knee and sighed.

  “It sounds like the perfect case study for the psychological influence on the paranormal. I hate to have to miss this one!”

  He cocked his eye knowingly. “So, you and Jeff, huh? How’s that working out?”

  Debbie blushed, though not as much as she would have a week ago. They were not a couple, but she was starting to get comfortable with the idea.

  “Fine, he’s a sweet guy.”

  “Glad to hear it, and I’m sure he is,” Dr. Staples said.

  Debbie left Dr. Staples’s office in a little better mood than last time. Despite the frustrating slow pace, she was making progress. She still wondered about the identity of the person in her dream. It could be Grammy Lee, her mother, or anybody.

  She brushed the most obvious answer aside. In her mind, she considered it settled. Debbie did not remember her mother’s death at all. It seemed the most apparent place to search for a repressed memory, but she believed what Grammy Lee told her. She asked several times over the years and always received the same heartfelt answer.

  “Your dear sweet mother died in her bed at Mercy Hospital after several weeks of being sick. There was nothing more or nothing less to it,” Grammy Lee always told her.

  This futile mental carousel caused Debbie to zone out everything around her as she drove. She received a shock when she discovered herself in the parking lot of Wal-Mart. She remembered none of her drive. It was a scary feeling, a disturbing feeling. This was her intended destination, but she wondered what transpired on the way here.

  “Oh God, I hope I didn’t hit anybody,” she whispered to her steering wheel.

  Of course, she hadn’t, but she had also not noticed the white sedan trailing her. Pac parked a few rows away. He watched for Debbie to go in, planning his strategy for their chance encounter.

  Debbie got out of her vehicle and headed into the store. Pac enjoyed his customary fanny stare for a few moments, and then followed her inside.

  Pac followed as she got a jumbo size pack of AA batteries, and then proceeded to the feminine hygiene products section. He kept his distance while she shopped in no-man’s land. While most would believe it weird behavior for a person to be following another, Pac did not think so. However, he did think it weird to stage his encounter by the tampons.

  He spent the next thirty minutes in covert surveillance as she perused clothing and tried on a few items in the cubicle dressing rooms.

  “What I wouldn’t give to be a fly on the wall in there,” he mumbled to himself.

  Pac gave an exaggerated shiver at the thought of Debbie naked on the other side of the wall. He felt somebody watching him and turned to see a small, auburn-haired boy staring at him.

  “You all right, mister?” the boy asked.

  “Why wouldn’t I be?” Pac snapped.

  “Well, you was shakin’,” the boy said in a grammar challenged Southern drawl. “I guess cause you was under an air thingy,” he said, pointing a small finger to the industrial air register high above.

  “Leave me alone, kid,” Pac huffed.

  He brushed by the boy as he went to take up his vigil on the next aisle over.

  Debbie took a long time in the dressing room, giving Pac ample time for his fantasies to run wild. After several long minutes, she emerged with three garments draped over her arm, and placed them in her shopping cart. She then started for the other side of the store.

  “Now’s my chance,” Pac thought as he moved out to follow. The kid was standing there holding the latest Star Wars toy. When he saw Pac, he stuck out his tongue and gave him a raspberry. Pac paid no attention to the brat as he had his sights fixed on Debbie.

  He caught up to her on the dog food aisle where she studied various brands of fifty-pound bags.

  “Need some help?” Pac asked casually.

  Debbie’s head shot up, and she blinked in surprise. “Pac? What are you doing here?”

  “Just picking up some chow for my cocker spaniel,” Pac lied. He didn’t have a dog; in fact, he hated dogs, especially the carpet tearing ones.

  “Oh?” Debbie smiled. “What’s his name?”

  Without missing a beat, Pac replied, “Spooky.”

  Debbie giggled. “What an appropriate name. Did you get him after you started huntin’ for spooks?”

  “Nah, I had him before. I was always a big X-Files fan. You know...Spooky Mulder and all.”

  “Mmmm, David Duchovny!” Debbie said, pretending to swoon.

  Pac rolled his eyes. “I’m glad I ran into you. There’s something I wanted to ask you about,” he said.

  Debbie raised her eyebrow with suspicion.

  “Do you have plans for this Friday night?” Pac asked with confidence far exceeding anything Jeff had been able to muster.

  “Why?” Debbie asked.

  “I wanted to know if you would like to go out for dinner at The Petite Rose?”

  Debbie stared at her shoes. Pac seemed like a nice guy. He was a little moody and crude at times. She never gave him a second thought because he wasn’t her type. Of course, it was not the full reason. There was Jeff.

  “Well, I’m flattered that you would ask Pac, but...I’m kinda seein’ someone now.”

  Debbie thought she saw a brief flicker of rage in Pac’s eye, but it soon vanished like a struck match in a strong wind.

  “I’m sorry to hear it,” he said, folding his arms and swaying from side to side. “I’m happy for you, but sorry for me,” he said with a rueful smirk.

  “Thank you, Pac...and thank you for askin’ me. I am flattered,” she said.

  There was no way in hell she would go out with him, even if she and Jeff were not dating. Of course, she would not let him know. Debbie was kind-hearted and believed everybody deserved their dignity. No one knew any better about this subject than a person who had recently turned into a chronic bed-wetter.

  Pac let out a long sigh and dropped his hands to his sides.

  “Okay then, maybe some
other time.”

  Debbie smiled at him, which seemed to frustrate his emotions even more. On the outside, he managed to keep up a relaxed and humbled façade, but on the inside, he was crying. It was not the salty tears of rejection, but acidic ones of furious denial.

  “Who the hell is this asshole she’s seeing?” Pac thought.

  Pac could feel his acidity rising in unison with his rage. Soon it would reach his vocal cords, and then all bets were off on what he might say. He might ruin any chance he ever had with her. He quickly redirected the focus.

  “Do you need some help with one of those big bags?” he asked.

  “Why yes, how sweet of you. I was going to get the large bag of Kibbles n’ Bits. My little dog runs through chow so fast, I get tired of making so many trips here.”

  Pac gripped one of the bags and placed it on the bottom of Debbie’s cart.

  “Well I need to run. I have a lot to get done before the investigation tonight,” Pac said. “I guess I need to start with batteries,” he said pointing at the jumbo case of AA’s in Debbie’s cart.

  “Yes, me too,” Debbie agreed. “I think we are all gonna meet at Bonanza for dinner at five o’clock and discuss the investigation.”

  “I’ll see you there,” he said, before turning and disappearing into the Saturday afternoon crowd of shoppers.

  Debbie stood in disbelief for several moments. This wasn’t the first time she turned someone down for a date. However, this was completely unexpected. She felt sorry for Pac.

  The dog food was the last item on her list, so she made her way to the register and checked out. She pushed her groceries to her car, pondering the conversation. She hoped this wouldn’t cause tension between the two of them within the group.

  Debbie loaded her groceries into her car. She had to use both legs and strain like a power lifter, but she managed to heave the bag of Kibbles n’ Bits into the trunk. She had no idea how she was going to get it out and into the house, but she would cross that bridge later.

  She reached to start the car when a loud rapping on her window made her jump. She turned with wide eyes to see Elvis grinning at her. He circled his index finger telling her to roll down the window. She smiled, turned the key to accessory, and hit the window button.

  “You ready for the investigation?” he grinned.

  “Yep, got me some batteries for my recorder and camera. I’m ready as hot cornbread!”

  “You can never have too many batteries,” Elvis professed. “Gonna get me some of each, you never know what you’re gonna need!”

  “Good luck!” Debbie laughed, “I’ll see you tonight!”

  Elvis grinned, saluted, and then headed off on his battery quest.

  Debbie shifted the car in reverse, unaware someone still watched. Pac’s rejection had caused him to have a change of plans. He decided to follow Debbie home and catch a glimpse of the person who she was seein’.

  Chapter 21

  ELVIS HAD NOT VISITED with Vicky again since their last conversation. His mind had become preoccupied with the little blonde-haired boy now buried in Browns and Sons twenty-acre cemetery. He felt disgusted about what he did, yet ... he was also sure something had happened. The EMF meter was an indicator. He had taken it back to the empty embalming room twice in the last week, placing it in the same spot. The meter remained silent.

  Elvis retrieved his equipment to pack for the investigation, including the digital recorder he had thrown across the room. He was thankful his aim had been off and he had not shattered the device as intended. He turned it on and checked the batteries. They were still about three quarters charged, so there was no reason to change them out. He still put the extra batteries in his pack because he recalled how sometimes paranormal phenomenon can drain the power from battery operated devices.

  Elvis packed everything, but held onto the digital recorder. He cradled it in his large hands, turning it over and over, considering what secret may be stored in its tiny circuits. He slowly walked to his computer and plugged it in. He felt excitement coursing through his body, but he also felt the shame. His stomach twisted in knots, but the curiosity was too great. He uploaded the audio file to his Audacity program.

  Elvis glanced up at the clock; it was only half-past four. He had plenty of time to listen to the short recording and get to the pre-investigation meeting by six o’clock. He placed his hands over his mouth, considering what he was about to do. There were no pictures of Vicky in sight; otherwise she might have talked him out of it. He slowly slipped on his headphones and hit play.

  Elvis winced as the EMF meter began to blare through his headphones. It seemed much louder in the recording.

  When he finally asked the question, “Are you angry?” The meter beeped shrilly, and then fell silent. In the brief instant after the meter fell silent ... he heard something. It was loud and clear, but not intelligible at first. Some of it was drowned by Elvis’s pleas. He rewound four times, and reduced some of the background noise before he was certain. The hair stood up on Elvis’s neck and arms. He felt sick again. The sad voice of a little boy begged - “I want to go home.”

  THE ATMOSPHERE IN BONANZA at five o’clock on a Saturday afternoon was sedate. The inside boasted a rustic Western feel with wood timber trim, and wagon wheel light fixtures. Most of the tables resembled oversized cracker barrels, more wide than tall.

  Jeff staked out one of the larger tables by the front window and positioned himself to watch for arrivals. As he kept watch, the scraggly shrubs under the window blew back and forth in a strong breeze. A mid-October cold front would move through tonight, giving them the first frost of the year. He hoped Mrs. Schwender had heat. This thought was secondary; however, to the one running through his head. He had news; news he felt he would burst with if he didn’t get to tell it soon.

  Pac, Elvis, and Debbie all arrived at almost the same time. They entered the restaurant and spotted Jeff by the window. As they approached the table, Jeff met them with a big grin.

  They all stopped dead in their tracks.

  “What is it?” Debbie asked.

  “Sit, sit!” Jeff said with excited impatience. “I have some great news!”

  They stared at each other with bewilderment. Pac kept his gaze below Debbie’s neckline.

  When everyone took a seat, Jeff blurted out, “We’ve got equipment!”

  “I know we do,” Debbie said. “It’s in my car.”

  Jeff was beside himself. “Those are tinker toys compared to what we have now!”

  “What do we have now?” Pac asked.

  Jeff leaned forward with his elbows on the table. He held up one fist and began to raise a digit for every piece of equipment he announced. “We have a radiation detector, an ENVIROMUX environment monitoring system, remote sensors to link up with the ENVIROMUX and...” he started a drum roll on the table,” a FLIR thermal camera!”

  They all stared at him with slack jaws.

  “Damn...a thermal camera!” Pac exclaimed. “Freakin’ awesome!”

  The thermal camera measured heat in the environment and then displayed it in colors varying by temperature. Many paranormal groups considered it the Holy Grail of equipment. They proclaimed it “the ghost detector” because it’s what the TV shows taught. The shows like Pac watched, the ones with sass. In truth, it was a better tool for measuring environmental anomalies. Jeff and Elvis knew it was a better tool for debunking, but not everyone shared their rational viewpoint.

  “I am familiar with most of the equipment,” Elvis said, “but I have never heard of this ENVIROMUX before. What is it?”

  “It monitors critical environmental conditions. Everything from temperature and humidity, to motion and vibration are monitored with remote sensors. We can pinpoint any environmental anomaly to the location and second.”

  “So, no need to do baselines anymore, eh” Pac grinned.

  “Nope, everything is automated.”

  “Do we get to play with it tonight?” Pac asked.

&nb
sp; Before Jeff could answer, Debbie raised her hand. “Where did you get all the equipment? It must of cost a small fortune.”

  Jeff seemed mildly dejected, his limelight was about to disappear.

  “Dr. Staples,” Jeff said.

  Debbie felt her stomach twitch. It was bad enough that her therapist joined the group, but now he had suddenly decked them out with more gadgets than James Bond.

  “Why?” Debbie asked.

  “Well, he said if we were going to do this, we should do it right. He said he had enough money sitting around not doing anything, so he wanted to contribute.”

  “Interesting,” Elvis said, “Dr. Staples...I mean Roy, is not here tonight. Do you have the equipment?”

  Jeff shook his head. “No, I think we could all use some training on it before we take it in the field, myself included.”

  Elvis nodded in understanding while Pac slouched back in his chair with childish disappointment. The waitress came and took everyone’s orders. When she finished, Jeff continued.

  “The equipment is at his house, and there is where it will be kept. He’s not giving us the equipment, just letting us use it while he is in the group.”

  Debbie frowned at him. Jeff returned her skepticism with a wink. Pac happened to be watching and his guts burned with jealousy.

  “The asshole thinks he can move in on her! Nope, she’s going out with me, dork! As soon as I find out who this other guy is and sabotage it,” Pac thought to himself.

  Dinner was half over when Pac discovered who was the real dork.

  Jeff and Debbie decided not to let their relationship get caught up in the group. In fact, they had agreed to be business-like in their demeanor when it came to group situations. The heart abhors business, and will always strive to reveal its full nature. People can lie, but the heart never does.

  Jeff made a humorous statement to the table and, in the chorus of boisterous laughter, Debbie squeezed his hand. It would have been an innocent gesture in most cases, but she did not let go. Before either of them realized it, they were holding hands. Their hands remained linked for a far longer duration than a friendly touch. Business pushed aside long enough for the heart to whisper the truth.