by C. C. Wood
“Would you consider it in the future?”
“Why don’t you just ask the question you really want to ask?” I prompted him.
Mal smiled. He was wearing his glasses today and he looked every bit the sexy nerd that Jonelle had called him. “I was trying for subtlety.”
“Subtlety isn’t my strong suit,” I replied. “I prefer honesty.”
“I’m beginning to see that,” he said with a nod. He took a deep breath. “Look, the guys and I really enjoyed working with you the other night. We were wondering if you’d be interested in working with us again.”
“As in, be on camera? Tell you what the ghosts are saying?”
“Something like that,” Mal responded. “I think you’d be an excellent addition to the show.”
I studied him for a moment. Teri was right earlier when she said that Mal, Stony, and Blaine lived in the same world I did, that they would understand me in ways no one else would. “Are you offering me a job?”
He nodded.
Still unsure, I leaned back in my chair. “I’m not sure, Mal. I’ve never done anything like this before. I could ruin your show.”
“I don’t think that’s possible,” Mal answered with a chuckle.
“How long will you be in this area?” I had an idea.
Mal seemed surprised by my question. “Uh, probably until the end of the month. We’re filming at some of the more well-known sites in the area like The Baker Hotel.”
That had possibilities. The end of the month was a little under two weeks away.
“What if we did a temporary thing?” I asked. “I would film with y’all for the remainder of your stay, but that would be it.”
“What if we want you to stay on longer than that?” he shot back.
I shrugged. “Mal, I’m not sure I’d be comfortable with doing this long term. I also don’t feel right about asking people to pay me to investigate their haunted homes.”
Mal shook his head vehemently. “No, we don’t charge people money to come into their homes. Everything we do is in the name of discovery and to help people understand what’s happening around them.”
“Then who would pay me?” I asked, frowning at him.
Mal fidgeted in his chair, a sheepish expression on his face. “Uh, me.”
I felt my frown deepen and made an effort to stop. I didn’t want Mal to get defensive. “Okay, maybe it’s wrong of me to ask this, but where in the heck are you going to get the money to pay me?”
He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it standing in spikes all over his scalp. “Well, we have advertisers.”
“Yeah, but I’m sure that barely pays your travel costs and a small salary for y’all.”
Mal sighed. “I’m going to tell you something, but I need you to promise that you won’t get mad.”
Those words almost guaranteed that whatever he had to say would probably stir my ire.
“Promise I won’t get mad?” I queried, lifting my eyebrows.
“Okay, just promise you won’t yell.”
“Just tell me, Mal. Unless it’s illegal. In that case, don’t tell me because I’d feel obligated to turn you in.”
He laughed. “No, it’s not illegal. You see…” he sighed. “You know my last name is Flemming, right?”
I nodded.
“As in Flemming Telecom.”
My eyes widened. Holy shit, the Flemmings were well known and among the wealthiest families in the state of Texas. They owned several large companies, one of which was Flemming Telecommunications.
“So, they fund your show?” I asked incredulously.
Mal huffed out a laugh. “Uh, no.” Then he considered. “Well, in a way, I guess they do.” He noticed my confusion. “I use my trust fund to finance the show. At least for now,” he stated.
“Trust fund?”
“It won’t be forever,” he continued as if he hadn’t heard me speak. “I’m shopping the show around to networks. Paranormal investigations are doing well right now in television. It may take a little time, but we’ll get there eventually.”
“So, you would be paying me out of your personal trust fund?” I asked again, this time a little louder.
“I think our chances of being noticed by a network would improve greatly with you on the show.”
“Seriously, Mal? Just answer my damn question!” I yelled.
He winced. “I thought you promised not to yell.”
“I only yelled because you weren’t listening,” I replied. “Now, are you saying that you would be paying my salary with your trust fund?”
He nodded.
“Do you pay Stony and Blaine a salary the same way?” I asked.
“They won’t let me pay them,” he stated.
“Won’t let you?” My voice was rising again.
“Well, they have trust funds of their own, you see.”
I got to my feet. “So what? You see that I don’t have a job and you decide to offer me one because, hey, money is no object with you?”
Mal mirrored my movements, the sheepish expression disappearing from his face. It was replaced with annoyance. “Of course not.”
“What am I? The token poor chick?” I sneered.
“What? Why would you even think that?” Mal asked, looking both angry and bewildered.
“Why in the hell else would you ask me to be on the show?”
“Maybe because you can see ghosts!” he yelled back. “We wouldn’t have to worry about dealing with mediums who are full of shit and charge enormous fees anymore. We’d have our own. Oh, and let’s not forget you’re pretty damn hot. Having you on the show would guarantee more views, not just from women, but from men as well.”
I heard the connecting door between the two rooms fly open.
“Dude, why are you yelling at her?” Blaine asked. “We want her to work with us, not take out a restraining order.”
I was too distracted to say anything. Mal thought I was hot? I wasn’t sure how to even process that information.
Stony walked over to stand beside me. “Mal, man, she’s in shock. What the hell is wrong with you, yelling at her like that?”
Mal groaned and tore his hands through his hair. “Dammit.” He turned and stomped away from us.
“You okay, Zoe?” Stony asked me, putting his hands on my shoulders.
That knocked me out of my trance. “I’m fine, Stony.” I moved from beneath his hands, not wanting him to get the wrong impression.
Mal was pacing by the window, messing his hair up even more than it had already been.
I stood in front of him, forcing him to stop. “What kind of salary are we talking here?”
He blinked down at me, clearly confused. “Huh? I thought you didn’t want to do it.”
“I didn’t say that,” I stated. “I was upset at first because I thought…well, forget what I thought. What’s the starting salary?”
“Seven-fifty a week,” Mal answered.
“Make it eight hundred a week, and we’ve got a deal. I’ll work with y’all until the end of the month.”
Mal came out of his daze. “And you’ll consider filming with us more if it goes well?”
“I’ll consider it, but there will be other terms we need to discuss before I commit to a full-time job.”
He held out his hand. “Deal.”
“Deal.”
As we shook hands, Stony and Blaine whooped.
Chapter
Mal and I had a slight issue concerning the first night I was supposed to film with them. They were going to a cemetery in Springtown to investigate a glowing tombstone.
As soon as Mal told me, I stated, “I can’t go to a cemetery after dark.”
Stony and Blaine gave me odd looks but went back to discussing their equipment needs.
“What?” Mal asked, not looking up from his notes on the location.
“I can’t go to a cemetery after dark, Mal,” I repeated.
I finally got his attention.
“W
hat?” he asked again, his head coming up this time. “Why not?”
I bit my bottom lip. “It’s difficult to explain.”
“Try.” He tossed his papers on the table in front of him.
With a sigh, I sat down opposite of him. “It’s just that, well, I don’t just see ghosts. There are…other beings out there that are drawn to me.”
“Beings?”
“Like zombies and ghouls,” I explained.
He frowned at me. “Zombies and ghouls? You expect me to believe that.”
“Seriously? You believe in ghosts, Mal. Why would you find this any harder to believe?”
He scowled at me and picked up his paperwork again. “It’ll be fine, Zoe.”
“Mal, you don’t understand—”
He lowered the packet and stared at me over it. “The city gave us special permission to film in the cemetery after it closes. We can’t cancel at the last minute or we’ll never get the opportunity again.”
“Maybe I should skip this one, though,” I hedged.
“We need you, Zoe,” he insisted. “We’ve already run promo that you’ll be in this episode. I can’t take you out now. If we run into any zombies or ghouls or whatever, we’ll be fine. I promise.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” I muttered beneath my breath, giving up the fight. I knew that the probable outcome at the cemetery wouldn’t be dangerous, but it would certainly freak them all out.
Then I grinned. It might be fun to witness Mal seeing his first ever zombie.
“Uh oh,” Stony said. “I don’t like the looks of that smile. What are you planning?”
“Nothing. Just thinking about tonight.”
It was nearly nine when we arrived at the cemetery in Springtown, but it wasn’t quite fully dark yet. The night was warm, which was typical of early summer in Texas, and a slight breeze moved through the trees, creating a hushed whisper in the air around us.
As I helped them unload the van, we were all quiet. Though we were the only people around, we spoke in hushed tones.
By the time we were ready, the night was completely dark. As we rounded the van together, the faint glow of the headstone was visible from outside the graveyard.
Stony and Blaine shouldered their cameras. I held a digital voice recorder since I would be the one to speak to the spirits that might be lingering and Mal held an EMF meter and a flashlight.
We took a few moments to film a short introduction by the cemetery gate and I felt surprisingly comfortable talking to the camera, maybe because it was Stony behind it. He and Blaine were both being very supportive and helpful.
“Just pretend you’re talking to one of us without the camera between us,” Blaine had suggested earlier. “It will seem less awkward that way.”
After a few takes for the introduction, we made our way through the gates that had been left open for us. The caretaker would be back at midnight to escort us out and lock them again.
I could clearly see the faint glow of the headstone as we picked our way around the other markers.
“Do you see any ghosts yet?” Mal asked.
I shook my head. Strangely, ghosts didn’t really hang around graveyards. They tended to be tethered to places that they’d frequented while they were alive. I’d only met one untethered ghost in my life and it was an experience I didn’t want to repeat.
The glow of the headstone grew brighter as we approached. Mal had us all stop as he filmed a short segment on the history of the grave and the man who was buried there.
After that was done, we moved even closer. Then a few feet from the marker, the glow began to fade. By the time we were within arm’s reach, it appeared to be an ordinary headstone.
Mal crouched down in front of it, looking over his shoulder at Blaine and Stony as they filmed.
As he talked, I heard a sound that was hauntingly familiar despite the fact that I hadn’t experienced it since high school. The ground to my left trembled slightly and the sound of dirt shifting and separating filled the air.
“What was that?” Mal asked, still squatting in front of the marker.
“Oh my God,” Blaine gasped. “Holy fucking shit! Are you seeing this, Stony?”
“Hell yeah, man. I’m recording it.”
I turned slowly, knowing what I would see. I watched as a hand appeared at the edge of the open grave that hadn’t been there a few minutes ago. The zombie dragged itself out of the grave, the dark suit it wore covered in dirt and other things I didn’t want to consider.
“Fuck me,” Mal muttered behind me.
The corpse righted itself and took a couple of tottering steps. The grave must have been fairly new and about one hundred feet away from where we stood.
The zombie staggered forward, his feet dragging as he tried to make his legs work. I could hear the men behind me breathing heavily as they watched.
“Zoe, what’s happening?” Mal whispered behind me.
I twisted to give him a dirty look over my shoulder. “Exactly what I told you would happen.”
“Zombies?” he asked, his voice weak.
I nodded and faced the dead man that now stood about five feet from me. His arms rested at his side with his head held high, as though he were a soldier at attention and awaiting my orders. Although he couldn’t have been dead for that long, I was grateful to be upwind of him.
“Did he say zombies?” Stony murmured.
“Dude.” That seemed to be Blaine’s usual response when he wasn’t sure what to say.
“What in the hell is going on?” Mal hissed.
I didn’t look at him when I answered. “I tried to warn you. I can’t come to cemeteries after dark without this happening.”
“I thought you were exaggerating!”
The zombie took a step toward Mal when he raised his voice.
“Stop,” I called out.
At my command, the dead man halted.
“Lie down and be at peace,” I stated, keeping my voice calm and steady. I hoped the command worked. Since that night ten years ago, I’d done some research about zombies and necromancy in case I was ever in this position again.
The zombie walked unsteadily back to his grave, sliding down through the crack in the earth. Before our eyes, the dirt that had been displaced shifted back into place, covering the coffin.
“Whoa,” Blaine muttered. “Did that just happen or did Stony sneak some magic mushrooms into our spaghetti dinner tonight?”
“Hey, those aren’t cheap. No way would I waste them on the likes of you,” Stony argued.
“Shut up,” Mal bit out. His glasses glinted in the moonlight as he turned to look at me. “Zoe, I think we need to have a talk.”
Typical. I tried to warn him what might happen and he hadn’t listened, yet somehow I got the distinct impression he believed this was all my fault.
Chapter
While Stony and Blaine loaded the equipment in the van, Mal wrapped his hand around my elbow and pulled me a few feet away.
I didn’t appreciate being treated like a recalcitrant child and yanked my arm free. When I tilted my head back to tell Mal as much, I was surprised by the excited expression on his face. Considering the grip he’d had on my arm, I thought he was upset.
“What was that?” he asked. “I’ve never in the two years we’ve been doing this seen anything like it.”
I felt embarrassed because I didn’t know how to explain it. I didn’t even know how I did it. It just happened.
“I don’t know,” I finally answered. “That’s just what happens when I go into a cemetery after dark.”
“So during the day, nothing happens.”
I shrugged. “Nothing like that.”
He immediately caught on to my omission. “But something does?” he pressed.
“Just…a feeling I get,” I answered on a sigh. Throwing up my hands, I stated, “I’m not sure I can put it into words.”
“Please try. I’m trying to wrap my head around what I just saw.”
/> “I feel a—” I hesitated, searching my brain for the most appropriate term, “Connection with the dead. I don’t know how else to put it. I can just feel them.”
What I didn’t mention was that they could sense me as well. They recognized me as being similar to them, even though my heart still beat.
“So you don’t mean to call the zombies?” Mal asked.
I shook my head. “Not at all.”
“Have you ever tried to do it? Intentionally raise the dead, I mean.”
“No,” I answered shortly. “And I won’t. It’s not right to call the dead from their resting place. They deserve their peace.”
He studied me in silence for a moment. “I suppose you’re right.”
He scrubbed a hand through his already messy hair. I was beginning to find the habit adorable when it should have been annoying. That wasn’t a good sign. He was essentially my boss now.
“Well, I don’t think we’re going to get anymore work done tonight. Why don’t we all go have a drink? Know any good places?”
I nodded. “Several. You want loud and rowdy or dark and seedy?”
Grinning back at me in the bright moonlight, he replied, “You choose.”
As we walked back to the van, he reached down and squeezed my hand, holding it gently for a few moments. It was a brief touch, but it made my heart beat a little faster and a blush rise in my cheeks. For a split second, I was thrown back to junior high when the boy I liked held my hand at the movies. I found out later, he’d asked me out on a dare. A dare.
The memory doused any warm feelings I had and Mal had already released my hand.
Out of habit, I took Mal and the guys to Birdie’s. Honkytonks weren’t places I enjoyed, and Birdie’s was the antithesis of that. The bar was dark and the only source of music was a jukebox full of albums recorded at least twenty years before I was born. You could order food, but that was limited to five items; wings, pizza, nachos, burgers, and fries.
I loved the place. Mostly because Birdie MacBride treated me the same way she treated everyone else; like shit. She was at least fifty years old and crotchety as hell. It was difficult to tell her exact age because she tanned every summer, smoked like a chimney, and dyed her hair a brilliant auburn. Her skin was leathery and wrinkled, but she dressed as though she were still twenty-two. I also couldn’t remember ever seeing her smile.