Ghost Hunters, Pt. 27

(Just joining us? You may want to start at the beginning.)

They grabbed the recording materials as quickly as they could, and they left as quickly as well.

They hoped the fog wouldn't roll back in while they gathered the things they were taking with them. They hoped that the events they'd seen, and worse still the sounds they'd heard, wouldn't repeat themselves. In near silence the three worked to gather the items JD needed for the analysis, and they furtively glanced out the windows of the now-eerily dark parlor before they went for the front door ... and they looked through the sidelights one more time when they got to the foyer too.

They glanced about them as though a sniper may lay in the darkness, waiting for them ... then they moved down the porch stairs and waited anxiously while JD locked the large, looming and now somehow threatening house behind him. He rushed down the stairs to where they waited and wondered what it was they were afraid of.

Then the sound they'd heard on from that shadowy figure kneeling beside the image of Robin Brown's body echoed somewhere in his frazzled psyche and he shivered. That is what they were afraid of.

They walked quietly, trying literally not to wake the dead, to the gate, and JD's hand hesitated just briefly before he opened it. He allowed Wendy, then Dillon to pass through the gate before him, watching over their heads at the crouching black house, waiting for it to pour that mystic fog from around its corners and eaves to swallow them again.

For the first time since the investigation began, he hoped it wouldn't.

He was staring at the house as he backed through the gate and pulled it gently closed behind him, trying to make as little noise as possible in doing so.

They stood stiffly at the doors of the car, waiting for him, their nervous energy palpable to him. He hurried to unlock his door and trip the locks on theirs. Almost in unison they nearly leapt into the car, and pulled the doors shut behind them quickly. Strapping the seatbelts on, they shifted their weight to get comfortable, the other two looking out the windows at the black windows of the house, staring like soulless, baleful eyes at them. JD put the key in the ignition and silently prayed as he turned it over.

The car started without incident. They collectively -- and quietly, trying not to let the others hear -- breathed a sigh of relief.

JD pulled away from the curb, checking the empty streets behind them in the mirrors as they pulled away into the ethereal stillness of the cool night.

Before long JD was on the highway, heading back home. The exhaustion quickly overcame them, and quietly Wendy's head lolled against her shoulder and presently Dillon was snoring in the back seat. JD was far too wired internally to be sleepy, though he knew he should be tired. He threaded the car over the ribbon of blacktop winding through the dark forest around the road, his lights illuminating only a few yards before finding another wall of tree trunks. His mind wound through the events of the last two days as much as he could.

There was so much he still didn't understand, and not the least of these was that the events he'd seen were best explained, for the moment, by an actual apparition. That didn't sit well with him. He'd taken a theological, logical and fundamental position that there were no such things as ghosts, and everything he'd seen indicated that this was, in fact, a ghost. Even so, it didn't fit any conventional definitions of "ghosts" as he understood them. It was like a traditional apparition, but had more ability to interact than he'd ever heard of or read about prior. He was certain that this was either Stone- or Water-tape playback, but that idea had been dismissed quickly and easily. He wasn't sure he'd ever really believed it anyway. It wasn't an imprint type of manifestation, which would have been his second choice to explain the repetitive behavior of the things he saw. That left him with almost nothing except a traditional apparition, but it still didn't quite fit.

And then there was Dillon's statement that this particular apparition didn't realize it was deceased. He wondered about that too; could it be true? The statement Dillon made earlier about the fact that this apparition wasn't actually Robin Brown but Darren Jenkins was very interesting, too. As was Dillon's sudden surge of insight. Where'd that come from, he mused, and smiled to himself in the dark.

He chanced a quick glance at Wendy, her face turned toward him slightly and completely relaxed as she slept. The pale, soft light from the dashboard glowed on her and accentuated her clear, perfect features. His chest fluttered slightly, annoying him mildly, and he turned back to the road, the smile still imprinted on his face. He sighed as he refocused on the road ahead and tried to marshal his thoughts again.

That's when he drove right into the cloud of collapsing fog that swallowed the car whole.

He gasped audibly, and leaned forward. The road wasn't visible any more; the headlights were shining directly into a dense wall of mist.

He tapped the brakes, and pressed them gently, trying not to slide on what he assumed must have been wet, slick pavement. From the gloom ahead two red orbs pierced the haze.

He gasped again, and pumped the brakes, slowing the car so that the tail lights were only a few feet from him.

He tried to back away from the car, but the familiarity of the fog urged him to stay close. He wasn't sure why, but he felt he shouldn't lose sight of those dim islands of light in the sea of murkiness. As he continued to slow, the lights in front of him seemed to match his speed.

Furrowing his brow, he slowed more. He was barely moving now. The lights ahead of him were no more than two yards away.

JD stopped the car. The lights ahead of him stayed two yards away.

He sat there, straining to see the shape of the car beyond the lights. He leaned so far forward the steering wheel began to hurt his midsection. Leaning back, he shook his head.

A tiny sound beside him caught his attention.

"Babe? What's up? Are we home already?"

"No, Wen. Are you awake enough to look at this?"

She blinked her eyes opened slowly and yawned delicately. She sat up straight and tried to focus through the windows, but her breath caught in her throat when she finally caught the scene around her.

"Oh my God -- where ... where are we?"

"We're about half an hour up the highway. I was driving home when the fog closed in."

"Are we ... we're not moving."

"No."

"What's ... what's with that car? Is there an accident? Does someone need help?"

JD sighed. "I don't think so. I think ... I think there's more. And this is it."

Her hand leapt to her mouth to stifle her gasp. JD smiled. "That's what I said, too."

"What ... JD, what's going on?"

"I don't know. I slowed down because I thought this might actually be fog, but the lights you see ... they slowed down with us. When I stopped, they stopped. Not gradually, like a driver reacting to me. They stopped and moved exactly as I did."

"Oh my God. What ... ?"

"I don't know. I'm going to proceed and see what happens."

"If it's a car you'll hit it."

"Yeah ... yeah, I know. I guess ... well, I have insurance, right?"

She exhaled through her mouth. "Well."

JD nodded. "Well. You can go back to sleep if you want, hon. I just wanted to see if I was the only one that saw those lights."

"You're kidding, right?"

He chuckled. "Okay. Let's see what happens."

He let the brake off easily, and the car began to roll slowly ahead.

The lights stayed two yards ahead. JD's vehicle never closed an inch.

He shifted in his seat, and held the wheel more tightly. Then he accelerated.

And the lights ahead of him maintained that fixed distance between them as though they were attached to his car.

"Reflection?" Wendy said softly.

"No. Nothing red to reflect. The lights on the front of my car are either amber or white. I don't even think it's legal to have a red light anywhere on the front. And there is nothing to reflect from the woods, either."

"Trick of the light and fog? Making something reflecting look red?"

"Possibly. But unless it's coming from my car, why does it match my movements?"

She fell silent, and JD maintained a steady speed as he drove. The lights would swerve gently to the left or right as they went on, according to the direction of the road.

They proceeded for a few more minutes, and then suddenly, the lights brightened ahead of them.

The lead car was braking.

JD hit the brakes gently to slow down, and then the tail lights rounded a sharp corner to the right.

"It's turning," Wendy said, barely audible.

JD followed. There was a jolt as the car bounced over a junction between the asphalt and the shoulder, and then a gravelly crunch announced they'd hit a new surface.

"Access road," JD said flatly, to himself.

Wendy nodded as the car gently bounced on, keeping the fixed distance between them and the lights. The curves were steeper here as the vehicle led them into the gloom and night. They led around a tight curve that took them back toward the general direction of the highway, and then the lights before them brightened again.

"They're stopping," Wendy monotoned to no one in particular.

Then, the lights dimmed again, and a sudden flash of white briefly pierced their eyes.

"They're parking." JD was putting the car into park and shutting it off as well, watching the lights ahead carefully.

They winked out into the mist.

"They shut the car off," he breathed. "They've shut the car off in the middle of the woods."

"This is bad, isn't it?"

"Does your cell phone have a signal?"

She checked. "Sorta."

"Okay. Okay, stay here ... I'm ... I guess I'm going to see what goes on next."

"JD, you can't do this, this is stupid ..."

"I ... it's okay. If I don't come back in half an hour, call the cops and get out of here. Keep the doors locked."

"Locked? What are you talking about?"

"I think this is just another segment. But we should have a 'plan B'. Just in case."

"JD, please --"

"Shh, it's okay. Just ... just don't move, okay?"

She sat there staring at him wide-eyed. "It's okay," he reassured her. "Really. Even if it's not another segment, I'm sure this is nothing."

He opened the door, locked it behind him, and shut it soundly before she could object. Dillon snored undisturbed.

JD moved forward, hands outstretched, moving as carefully as possible in the depth of the fog and dark. He could hear his footsteps on the gravel surface, seemingly wet with the moisture of the cloud. He couldn't see as the swirling mist parted and re-swallowed him.

Suddenly he felt something stiffly resist against his chest. He felt through the dark and fog, and felt the remains of an ancient cyclone fence. He felt along the top, and the mist seemed to lighten, just for a moment.

He was standing in front of a gate ... and it was slightly ajar.

Just beyond it, he heard something. He stopped, and listened, trying to still his heart from pounding in his ears.

Voices. Faint, drifting in the melancholy night. And then, the fog lightened just a bit more, and he could see two forms then, dragging something large between them, trying to be quiet and hurry up the path beyond the rusted wreck of gate.

He fought for a moment with his instincts. His breath was ragged and burned his lungs a bit while his chest thumped with his heartbeat. He swallowed, looked over his shoulder, trying to gauge the distance he'd come, where the car was behind him. Turning back, he could see those figures disappearing into the murky dark wisps of fog, moving away from him.

He hopped over the gate to follow them.

Technorati Tags: fiction

Ready to go on to Part 28?

Ghost Hunters, Pt. 26

(Just joining us? You may want to start at the beginning.)

"Five hours?" Dillon repeated. "Dude ... what the heck? Did we fall asleep or somethin?"

JD and Wendy glanced at each other. "Uh ... I don't ... THINK so," JD stammered. "We ... we all saw the same thing -- right?"

"Yes," Wendy said firmly. "We all saw those two men murder Robin Brown and leave him there. We all saw the other man show up and make that ... that SOUND," she shuddered.

"Dudes -- what're you talkin' about? I didn't see none o' that."

They locked their eyes on him. "You didn't?"

"Heh! I'm just muckin' witcha. Yeah, I seen it."

"I know we wasted a bit of time wandering around ... but I would have sworn --"

"No, JD, no way. There is no humanly possible way we were out there for five hours."

Wendy pressed herself into his chest, nuzzling him gently. He put his arms around her and laid his head on hers, kissing her hair softly. "I don't know when I've ever been so scared."

"I know," JD murmured softly. "It WAS really scary. It's all so ... weird."

"Yeah, an' who's gonna cuddle me an' shit? Wen said SHE would, but did she? Nn-oooOOOOOOOoooo. Ol' Dillon gets ta deal all by his OWN bad self."

"Aww, poor Dilly," Wendy said, and she moved and hugged him.

"Oh, NOW you wanna make nice? Well ... okay." He hugged her and she could feel him trembling.

"You really ARE scared."

"Yeh. Heh. It's ... it's all good though. I'll be a'ight."

JD moved slowly toward the wall where the shadowy form had opened the door earlier. He studied it for a long time before he finally took the flashlight from his pocket and turned the red beam on the wall.

"Hmm."

"What's up, baby?" Wendy said.

"Oh ... maybe nothing. But the -- apparition, I guess -- from earlier. He opened a door here. I don't know how many times the house has been remodeled -- or at least this room -- in the last 35 years, but there's no trace of a door here now. I can't even see the impression where the doorway and jamb might have been. Nothing."

"Y'know what I'm thinkin' dude?"

"Something that won't be there in three seconds?"

"Ha. Ha. Very. Frickin'. Funny."

"JD, be nice. What're you thinking, Dilly?"

"I'm thinkin' that there was somethin' else there before. Like, another room maybe. Or a stairway or somethin'. An' I think that we gotta do the same thing with THIS ghost that comes up in here as we did with th' dudes outside."

"Follow it?"

"Yeah, stuff like that."

"How? There's a wall here now."

"I dunno. How'd we wander 'round outside like a buncha morons? We were supposta be someplace an' ended up all kindsa other places an' shit. For five hours. Why NOT try it?"

"Well ..."

"No, he's right, JD. We should absolutely see if we can follow this ghost through the doorway. Maybe when the ... ghost things are happening, we can do things we couldn't usually."

"Like walk through walls?"

"It's not any more impossible than wandering around in the yard for five hours and ending up right back where we started, is it?"

JD thought for a moment.

"I g-uess not ... but ..."

"What?"

"Yeah, butt-head, why you gotta be so negative with MY ideas?"

"Does that really bother you?"

"It would 'cept you're a butt-head. Then it doesn't."

"Really, JD, why is that so far-fetched? This is the next really big part of the story, isn't it? Shouldn't we be trying to figure out this portion of it now?"

"I still don't think we're going to be able to walk through very real walls. But if it makes you both happy, we'll try it next time we get the chance."

"What should we do until then?"

"Well ... I'm getting really tired. We have a long drive back home. I guess the next step is to get a good night's sleep -- what's left of it anyway -- and come back tomorrow, fresh and ready for ... well, not ANYTHING, but maybe some things."

"That sounds like a great idea."

"Dudes, maybe we should find a hotel in this dump somewheres," Dillon yawned. "I ain't gonna make it all th' way back home."

"You didn't make it all the way HERE, Dillon. Besides, I'm driving. But what about you, Wen? Are you okay to drive."

She was in the middle of a yawn when he asked, and she struggled to nod her ascent, but her gaping jaw wouldn't let her. He chuckled then and hugged her.

"Tell you what -- why don't you come with us and grab a few winks on the way home. I'll do the driving. We can pick up your car tomorrow."

She laid her head heavily on his chest and put her hand beside her face. "Okay."

"What 'bout me?"

"I was thinking you could stay here and monitor the equipment."

"Dude."

"I know, I know. I'm kidding. Let's go home and get some rest. We'll come back tomorrow."

"How y'know we ain't gonna miss somethin'?"

"I'm willing to risk that. It's just to late for us to be functional right now. We need to sleep."

"It just seems like ... such a waste to go all the way back home."

"We could spend the night here if you'd rather."

"Screw that, dude. I ain't stayin' in THIS haunted-ass place at night. Uh-uh."

"I thought as much. Come on, then, let's get in the car. Just help me shut all this stuff off."

Dillon went to the corner to power down the little wireless camera, and Wendy began to turn off the recorders stacked on the table. JD stopped her as she reached for one of them.

"What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing, but there's not much tape left. I need to rewind this and see if there's anything on it worth keeping. If there is, I want to change the tape to be ready for tomorrow."

"Oh, okay." She stepped back as JD pushed the rewind button. The tape hummed and rattled in the machine, clicking away happily as the tape spooled back onto the spindle.

After a moment, he stopped and pressed the play button. The room, very much as it was now, shown in the monitor. He hit the rewind button and watched the feed while the spindle click-clacked backward, the familiar white lines showing the track of the recording moving over the screen.

Suddenly, the screen went to static and snow. The picture was gone.

"What the ..."

"What happened?"

"Uh ... I don't know."

"Dude, how d'ya turn this stupid thing off, man?"

JD ignorned Dillon, leaning on the table and staring intently at the screen. It was just like an empty television channel. Nothing came through but the visual snowy static. He pressed the play button quickly and the sound of white noise came through the speakers of the monitor.

"What in the hell?" JD muttered. "It didn't record anything for a while."

"How long?"

"I ... I don't know." He hit stop and then rewind and let the tape clatter and rattle more quickly backwards. He counted off seconds. When it was nearly a minute into rewind he hit stop, then play again.

Only the static and fuzz hissed back at him.

He glanced at the chronometer. Hitting the stop button again, he rewound the tape further, watching the meter roll backwards. When it was near the time they went outside, he stopped the tape again, then played it.

The room, just as they'd left it was there. He could hear them on the recording, as they rushed from the room to go outside.

He hit stop. Then rewind. Then stop again in a few moments, when he was certain they should have been filming the shadowy apparition, he pressed the play button.

And the snow and static greeted him.

"Oh, come on," he whispered in panic, "come ON. It HAS to be here!"

"Dude, I so can't find the off thingy."

"Forget it," he spat absently.

"JD, where's the recording?"

"I don't know."

He pressed the fast-forward button and let the machine click ahead for a few seconds, then stabbed the stop and play buttons. More static.

"Oh, this is NOT happening," he muttered. "This is NOT happening!"

"JD, what could cause this?"

"I don't know, Wendy. I have no idea."

He ran through more of the tape, but it was the same in each instance. From the moment they'd seen the ghost to the moment it vanished into an unseen door, was static. And from a few seconds after they'd left the house until just a few moments before they returned, more static.

There was nothing recorded in those times.

"That's impossible," JD pondered aloud. "That's simply not possible."

He stood up, shaking his head, not understanding the circumstances. The recording simply stopped before and after each apparition appearance, but the room snapped back into crisp focus after each event. The tape had been rolling.

There was no mistake.

And there was no evidence on the tape.

"Dillon," he said, "give me the voice recorder."

Dillon plodded to him and slapped the thin device into his palm. "Knock y'self out, bro. But we didn't turn it on 'til the end, 'member?"

"Yes, that's fine," JD said, and he pressed the playback button.

He heard himself whispering "Get low and try to blend in with the bushes. If we don’t interrupt this sequence, we may find something out here!" This was followed by a long stretch of silence.

He heard them speaking to each other. "God, I … I thought it would be less shocking this time somehow." It was his own voice.

"JD ... why is the fog still here?" Wendy's voice.

The conversation they had went on as it had occurred, and then suddenly, their hair stood on end as the silence of the night emptied through the tiny speaker. After a moment, that horrible, blood-chilling wail carried through, buzzing the speaker for a moment before going silent again.

He turned the recorder off.

"Only our voices. Only that sound." He shivered involuntarily as the chill twisted its way up his spine.

Wendy, Dillon and JD all stared in shock at that tiny recorder, and the snowy, static-filled screen of the monitor as it taunted them with the nothingness it offered.

And suddenly the fog washed away into the darkness again.

Technorati Tags: fiction

Ready to go on to Part 27?

Ghost Hunters, Pt. 25

(Just joining us? You may want to start at the beginning.)

"Holy ... holy smokes," Wendy said, and her voice seemed to ring in the dark of the stillness around them. "What ... what was that sound? I thought I was going to scream. I don't know if I've ever been so terrified."

"Me too," JD said, and another shiver raced down his back.

"That was a scream from the pits of hell, dudes."

They both looked at Dillon.

"No, seriously," he said earnestly. "That was the sound of a soul in torment, y'all. That dawg's sufferin'. Makes me think ..."

JD and Wendy watched him.

"What?" they said in unison.

"... Makes me think maybe this ain't 'bout Robbie. Never was."

"Not about Brown?" JD said stunned.

"Naw, man. I think ... I think maybe it's about Jenky-boy. He's all torn up over this shit."

"My God, JD, what if he's right?"

"Uh ... what ... what if?"

"That would mean it's not Robin Brown's ghost trying to clear himself, or show us the truth or whatever. It means that it's Darren Jenkins trying to clear HIS name."

"Clear it of what, Wen? No one accused him of stealing and being a dirty cop."

"Naw, man, they 'cused him of bein' involved in Robbie goin' bye-bye though."

"Oh!" JD said. "He's trying to ... well, if it's his ghost, he's trying to show us that he wasn't the one that did it. But ... why did he commit suicide?"

"Maybe he felt guilty for not being here when Brown was killed."

"Yeah, or maybe he couldn't handle bein' part o' all the crap that got Robbie-boy whacked. Somethin' like that."

"Yes," JD said slowly. "Or maybe, as we heard, he was supposed to be here and would've stopped the murder. But he did come. Why would he feel guilty about that?"

"I dunno. I'm just sayin' stuff so I ain't left out."

JD shook his head and snorted a sharp laugh. "Figures. You would."

"Yeh," Dillon chuckled.

"But that's true. Maybe Jenkins' being here would have made a difference and he knew that. Maybe Brown would have had more regard for his partner than he did for the two that killed him. Because Jenkins didn't get here when he was supposed to, he felt responsible for Brown's murder."

"I don't know, Wen. It didn't sound to me like Brown was going to listen to anyone. He was determined to put a stop to whatever was going on up here."

"It also sounded like a much larger operation than he expected," she added. "Maybe he was trying to protect Brown. It seemed from the conversation that he wasn't involved at all. And didn't know exactly who WAS."

"Yeah, what SHE said."

"There's something you don't hear often."

"Well, we have to wait for something new to happen now no matter what, so where should we go? Do we stay here?"

"I don't know, Wen. We're beyond any point we'd reached before. I think the next step is to find out what happened to Brown's body. Maybe if we figure that out, we'll ... I don't know. Solve it?"

"Dude, it ain't about him. It's 'bout Jenky."

"Well, do you have any suggestions?"

"Yeah, we need t'come back tomorrow and see what goes on in the house. That's the Jenky part."

"Huh?" JD was openly confused.

"Dude, think about it," Dillon said. "It's not 'bout Robbie. Robbie's all dead an' stuff. It's about JENKY. He's the one that's all tormented over this shit. He's the one that's showin' us what's up. He's the dude in the house, too."

"How do you know that?"

"Yeah, what makes you say that, Dilly?"

"Well, dude in the house was all a shadow an' whatnot. Dude out here cryin' over Robbie's all shadows an' stuff. I figger, it's the same guy."

"How could you tell through that thick fog?" JD said dubious.

"Just a hunch, I guess. I think Jenky was here the whole time, that's why he's all ripped up inside. He thinks he oughtta have saved ol' Robbie, but he was hidin' in the house an' all."

"Hiding? What makes you think he was hiding?"

"He didn't want Robbie t'know he was in on it all, dudes. Duh."

"Wait, Dilly, wait ... why would he care about that?"

"I dunno. Maybe he liked ol' Robbie. Maybe he wanted t'try an' look better to 'im and stuff. Or maybe he was changin' his mind 'bout bein' in it an' stuff. I dunno. But he was hidin' in the house when Robbie-boy bought it, an' he feels all kindsa bad 'bout that."

JD contemplated. Dillon seemed to have more insight than he and Wendy combined. "Dillon ... you're not a ghost, are you?"

"Dude, if I was a ghost, you'd SO be scared right now. I'd be makin' ya crap yer pants an' stuff."

"So you think the next thing to happen will happen in the house, Dilly? What about you, JD?"

JD shrugged. "Uh ... okay. We should monitor the events in the house completely. OH! Dillon, turn off the recorder."

"Oh yeah. Heh." He pressed the button and the recorder beeped softly in acknowledgment.

"All right," JD sighed. "This has been ... this has been a lot more exciting than I anticipated, that's for certain. I guess now we just wait for the next show."

The three of them yawned almost simultaneously. "Goodness," Wendy said. "I'm sleepy. I didn't realize how much I'd miss that nap."

"I'm scared o' what's gonna happen next," Dillon said. "That shit was CREEPY. I bet the rest is gonna be too."

"Don't worry, Dilly," Wendy said, rubbing his back vigorously with her hand. "I'll protect you."

"Yeah? Will you hold me when I'm scared? JD wouldn't."

"Yes, I will."

"And, will you do it while we're nekkid?"

She slapped his back hard and he lurched forward expelling air. "Sorry ... I gotta try, y'know?"

"Hmm."

"Well, let's go inside. We can get set up to do all the recording and everything there. Boy, we're going to have some extraordinary evidence by the end of the night."

"No joke, Homey," Dillon said as they moved toward the front of the house. "Who ain't gonna believe in ghosts after this crap hits the 'Net, man?"

"Wow, are you going to put this on the Internet, JD?"

"I ... I don't know. I have to get the homeowners' permission first. After that, I can certainly see having other agencies look at what we've gathered. I'll even surrender the camera so they know I've not tampered with the video electronically."

They trudged toward the house and another wave of yawns struck them, making their eyes water, and JD shook his head to focus his thoughts.

"Wow, what's with the yawn-fest? And I'm gettin' hungry, too."

"What? We just ate!"

"I know, it's weird. But ... I'm getting the rumblies down in the tumblies, dude."

"Ghosts make you hungry, Dilly?"

"I guess so. And frickin' SLEEPY too."

"Yeah, I'm wiped out. That's strange. I guess the energy and the excitement is taking its toll on us. Hopefully we'll be alert enough to manage the events in the house. If there are any."

"Dude, what if we just leave?"

"What do you mean?"

"Just what I said, dingbat. What if we leave? Will all the crap keep goin' like we're here watchin'? Or does it only show 'cause we're here watchin'?"

"I don't know, Dill. There's no way TO know."

"Why not, dude?"

"Because, if we're not here to see it, how do we know if it's happening or not?"

"Uh ... huh. Ain't that whatcha set the cameras up for?"

"Yes ... yes!! Maybe the camera recorded something inside!! You're a GENIUS tonight, Dillon!"

JD sprinted for the door and Wendy trailed as quickly as she could behind. Dillon looked around the eerily quiet night and bolted for the door himself a half beat later.

They caught up with JD, who was staring at the monitor screen, hands on his hips and brows knit over his eyes.

"What?" Wendy puffed as she pulled up along side him. "What's wrong?"

"Dude, you look like you seen a ghost. HAHAHAHAHAHAAA!!! I slay me."

"Huh. I ... I don't know. This is ... this is weird."

"What is it?"

"The tapes ... all the tapes. There's ... something wrong with the time stamps."

"JD, you came bolting in here and now you're being cryptic? What's going on, please."

"Oh ... sorry, I'm not trying to be cryptic. I mean, the tapes seem to ... well, they look like they've been running for a long time. And the time stamps on them are off."

"I think somethin's screwy with the clock on that table, too, dude."

"Oh?"

JD looked over at the tiny pewter clock. He tipped his head to the side inquisitively.

Wendy pulled her sleeve back and stared at the face of her watch.

They all exchanged a glance, and re-checked the time pieces.

"This ... JD, this can't be right."

"Yeah, dude ... what's not right?"

"No, it can't. That's ... that's impossible."

"What's impossible, dudes?"

"How can that be?"

"I don't ... I don't know. I don't know how ANY of this could be, though."

"JD, what happened tonight?"

"I have no idea."

"Me neither -- as in, WHAT THE HELL YOU GUYS TALKIN' 'BOUT?"

"Dillon, look at the clock!"

Dillon did look. "So?"

"Do you see the time??"

"Yeah ... so?"

"Don't you realize what's happening here?"

"Dilly, don't you remember what time we went outside?"

Dillon shrugged. "Uh ... let's ... let's pretend I don't. 'Cause I don't."

"It was about nine. Maybe a little after that. Not 9:30 yet."

"Okay. And?"

"And now, the clock on the table, the chronometers on the recorders, and Wendy's watch -- they all say it's just after 2 a.m."

"Uh ... so that means ..." He trailed off and shrugged helplessly.

JD rubbed his hand down his face in exasperation. "Dillon, that means we were outside for FIVE HOURS."

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Ready to go on to Part 26?

6-0, Spank You Very Much

Wow.  What a game.  For a moment, it looked as if Dallas would actually make this interesting.

I have to confess, I worried about this game.  I love my Patriots, whether they cheated or not.  I love them, they are my team.  And they went down to Dallas to face a team that has shown itself to be very, very strong in the last half of games.  They have a HUGE offensive line and a quick-footed, agile quarterback that's as elusive as a greased eel.  They have an all-pro, perhaps all-world or Hall-of-Fame wide receiver as his primary target.  They have one of the best tight-ends in football today.  They have a bruising, punishing brute of a runner that can kill with his speed and nose for the goal line.  They have a kicker that last week hit not one but two 50+ yard field goals at the end of the game to win it for the Cowboys.  They have a monstrous and powerful offensive line that can only benefit from their elusive and quick quarterback.  They have a defense that allows their offense to shine and win games.  They are a very good football team and they are the force to be reckoned with in the NFC.

And today, they were facing my beloved New England Patriots.  I was a nervous wreck.

You have to understand, I have some residual animosity hold over for Dallas from a long time ago; a new life later, I still haven't fully gotten over that.  So, of all the games I don't want to see the Pats lose, this is one.

The other, of course, occurs on November 4th.

Nevertheless, this game had all the makings of a really exciting match up.  A nail-biter that would make me physically ill because of the tension.  (Hey, I like my football, what can I tell ya?)

In the third quarter, it looked like it was going to start swinging their way.  Dallas took the lead 24-21 early in the quarter and the Pats haven't trailed in the second half at all this year.  I thought that was a bad portend.  I thought for sure Dallas was going to start laying those big bodies on our guys and grind us down.  A narrow-margin loss is a loss as great as a blow-out, I say.  And I didn't want to see them lose.

Fortunately for me, I am not the quarterback for the Patriots.  Tom Brady is.  He has no emotions.  He has ice water in his veins.  He has the ability to sleep 20 minutes before the start of the Super Bowl.  If he's not the coolest quarterback I've ever seen on the field, if he's not the most collected, calm and stable field general I've ever seen, I don't know who is.  It might be Joe Montana.  Tom and Joe seem to be cut from the same mold, but Brady is made from more material.

Yes, he got taken down a couple of times.  Yes, I saw him make some really stinker throws (what was up with that, anyway?).  And in the end, I saw him be Tom Brady.  I saw the Patriots do what they have done week-in and week-out for the last six weeks this year.

They won the game.

They didn't eke one out either.  They won that game by 21 points.

At the end of that game, my heart was pounding and my palms were sweaty.  And Lord help me, I can't tell you why.  I saw them up by 14 points with 4 minutes left in the 4th quarter, and I was nervous.  I've seen games won by similar margins with less time left.  I know that Dallas is a talented, high-powered team.

Then I saw Tony Romo do what young quarterbacks under pressure do: throw an interception.  Junior Seau had his third pick in the last two weeks (2 last week, one today), and a few plays later the Patriots, down to their 3rd running back after Sammy Morris left the game early, scored again.

With 13 seconds to go, Dallas erected a white flag.  It was fine; they weren't going to do much anyway, except maybe narrow the gap back to 14.  But there was no chance to win.  Romo took a knee.

Dallas played well enough to keep them in the game until the end.  Toward the end, the Patriots demonstrated what apparently everyone but me knew already:

The Dallas Cowboys are a good football team.  And they were not ready for the New England Patriots.

Final score: New England 41, Dallas 27.

Miami is next, and they always play the heck out of us.  Stay tuned, Massholes; this could be one of the proverbial "trap games".  If it's not -- November 4th is going to ROCK.

And I'll be worried about that game too.  Hell, maybe I'll beat the rush and start now.

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Ghost Hunters, Pt. 24

(Just joining us? You may want to start at the beginning.)

JD quickly leaned forward and whispered to Dillon, "Get the recorder turned on! We want to capture as much of this as we can, at least the audio!"

Dillon moved in the dark doing something, and JD could only hope that he was turning the recorder on. He then whispered to both of them, "Get low and try to blend in with the bushes. If we don't interrupt this sequence, we may find something out here!"

The three of them lowered. The hushed whispers were still coming toward them from the side of the house, and gradually grew more clear as the invisible speakers approached.

"... he's frickin' late, that's all I'm sayin'," one of them hissed.

"He'll be here," the other snapped back. "He'd damned well better be if he knows what's good for 'im."

"I don' trust 'im," the other answered. "He's too jittery an' nervous, man."

"Just keep it down an' watch for 'im, he'll be here. If he chickens out, we'll deal with that later."

"We're risking a lot, asshole. You'd better be right."

"Just shut up and look for 'im."

The two figures fell silent, and JD peered silently back through the viewfinder of the camera. The fog was impenetrable; all he saw back was the gray-white sheet of fog.

"Damn," he whispered, barely audible. Wendy was hunched beside him, clutching his arm in both of hers. He could feel her trembling. He wished, for a moment, he had something comforting to say, but couldn't think of anything. He just watched instead.

"Where the fuck is he, dammit??" Again the voice rasped in the murk. The three huddled near the back of the yard couldn't see anything except flashes of silhouettes. There were no hard figures they could make out.

"Why don'tcha turn on the friggin' flashlight? Maybe he's lost in this pea soup shit."

"No, shithead, we don't wanna let everybody know where we are. Just keep watchin'."

Dimly, far off, there was a faint illumination.

"Here 'e comes now. Toldja he'd show."

"Over here, Jenkins," the other voice called softly.

"Him too?" a third voice spoke, not as quietly. It was familiar to the huddled trio in the bushes.

"Who's that?" the second voice spat back, terse, edged with danger.

"Brown, asshole. Where's Jenkins?"

"Brown? What the hell are you doin'?"

"I oughtta be askin' you that. I said where's Jenkins?"

"Look, Brown," the first voice spoke, "you're bein' stupid. Why don'tcha just go home and forget about this?"

"Gimme a break, Rick," Brown answered tiredly. "I told the cap I was bringin' this crap to a stop. I shoulda known you'd be in up to your fuckin' eyeballs."

"Don't be stupid, Brown," the second voice again. "You're gonna make trouble for all of us now? You coulda gotten in at the beginnin' but you wanted t'be an asshole. You think we're just gonna sit here an' let you ruin all o' us?"

"Can your crap, Migo," Brown hissed. "You gonna threaten me now? For what? -- not bein' an asshole an' doin' what you do?"

"Jenkins is in too, Brown," the voice belonging to Rick interjected. "You gonna ruin your own damn partner?"

"He shoulda known better'n to get involved with you fucks," Brown answered. "I hoped he didn't. If he did, well ... I guess I'll deal with that."

"You're a fuckin' RAT, Brown," the Migo voice whispered so harshly it was clear his teeth were gritted. "You ain't gonna screw all of us. We're ALL cops. You think we ain't all gonna stick together?"

"Yeah, I figgered you would," Brown said, "and I don' care. I'm doin' what's RIGHT, because it's RIGHT. And I'm takin' this shit down. ALL o' you."

"You fuckin' prick!" This from Migo again.

Suddenly there was a thump! and whoosh! -- JD strained into the murk to see what was happening but couldn't.

"You ... better be ... careful what ... you do, Migo," Brown's voice strained out, out of breath.

"You ain't bringin' NOTHIN' down, asshole."

There was a huge, clunking and hallow knock, and suddenly Brown's flashlight rolled into view, a faintly glowing disk casting a weak patch of light through the fog on the moist ground. Then a sickening crunch, and another, and a third. The three of them listening clandestine in the bushes and darkness winced at the sounds, nearly jumping each time it rang with a faintly metallic ring following the blows. JD knew this is what they'd witnessed the night before. It was out of sight but embedded in their minds.

A moment later the heavy pants of the attacker was all that could be heard.

"Sweet Jesus," the Migo voice came back. "Oh, sweet Jesus, we gotta get outta here!"

"I couldn't just let 'im leave, could I?? I hadda do SOMEthin'!"

"Christ, I think ya killed 'im, Stanton! I think I heard BONE!"

"I hadda do somethin' didn't I?? Huh??"

"Jesus!"

"What about Jenkins??" Stanton was panicking. "He's gonna be comin'! This wasn't supposta happen, man! Whatta we do??"

"C'mon, Stanton! We gotta get outta here! Fuck Jenkins, we gotta go!"

The sounds of two sets of footfalls retreated away from the yard, but the fog was too thick for JD to see if they went toward the gate or off toward another yard. He listened quietly, then stood, pulling Wendy up with him. He couldn't see either her or Dillon.

"God," he whispered, but it was almost a moan. "I ... I thought it would be less shocking this time somehow."

No one answered him.

For long moments they stood in the mist, expecting it to clear.

It didn't.

"JD? Why is the fog still here?"

"I ... I don't know."

"Dude ... more stuff's gonna happen. It ain't over yet."

"How do you know, Dill?"

"'Cause. That's what the fog means. Ain't it?"

"Uh ... well, so far, I guess so, yeah."

"So ... there's more."

"Dilly, how'd you get so smart?"

"I just figger if the fog's all about the ghosts, and when they're done an' all it goes away, it must not be over or it'd be ... goin' away. It ain't brain surgery or nuthin'."

JD shook his head. "I guess not. So we wait and see what happens now."

"What ... should we move or anything?"

"I -- I have no idea whatsoever."

"So ... we just kinda hang out an' stuff?"

"I guess so."

"Dude, that's boring."

"You think this has been boring?"

"Not th' other crap, jus' the waitin' crap. Y'know?"

"Well, not really. But then, I don't have the attention span of a goldfish."

"How d'ya know?"

"What?"

"You a goldfish?"

"Um ... not last I checked, no."

"Then how d'ya know what their 'tention span's like?"

"There's this really great stuff people use to figure things like that out. It's called 'science.' Maybe you've heard of it."

"Oh, y'mean the same stuff you tried to use t'splain all this stuff happenin' right here?"

"Just because I can't do it doesn't mean someone else couldn't have."

"Yeah, but all we got's YOU, dude."

"You guys, seriously -- is there something wrong with your brains? Because we're standing here, in a mystical fog, waiting for a GHOST to appear, you're bickering about ..."

"Shh!" JD interjected quickly, "Shh! Do you ... do you hear that?"

Softly, somewhere in the mist, there was a squeak, like a rusty unused hinge operating for the first time in decades.

JD moved forward, toward where he thought the house should be, trying to will his eyes to penetrate the dense vapor. He groped forward, hands tentatively in front of him trying to feel for the wall he knew would come at him. There was a second creaking of that hinge that snuck out of the fog to his ears, and he followed it, moving quickly but cautiously forward.

Suddenly there was a rush as the fog began to diffuse, to clear, and for a moment he could see. He was a scant few feet from the corner of the house, stopping quickly, and around the corner came the shadowy dark outline of a man, running past the house toward the fallen Brown's body, crumpled in a heap behind and to JD's left, the flashlight more clearly showing the scene. The dim shape of his body on the ground was covered by the new form, pressing its head down on his chest as it fell hard on one knee.

In a moment, the figure rose slightly and seemed to grope at the neck of the prone form, then pressed his head to the chest again.

Then there was a mournful wail, a sound from out of the fog as the form tipped its head and called into the mist, and it cut like a blade through JD's skin, rifling up his spine and making his hair stand on end. He shuddered violently, involuntarily, and pure, abject terror seized his heart and froze him in place. A scream of complete primal fear forced itself up from his diaphragm, slammed against the back of his throat and hit the back of his teeth, goose flesh rising over the entire surface of his body.

And then the fog raced past, shooting away into the dark and vanishing into the night. JD released his voice to hear only the slightest whimper come from what he thought would be a scream from the depths of his soul.

He shook violently, frightened to his very essence, staring in stark disbelief at the empty yard around them.

"I think I wet myself," he heard Dillon mutter.

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Ready to go on to Part 25?