Last Ghost at Gettysburg (16 page)

As they exited Terri’s Accord she said, “Try
the rangers’ office. He might be there.” Sure enough, Mike was at a
desk, going over that day’s itinerary.

“Oh, hi, guys,” he said, looking up. “I guess
you’re here for the war veterans’ tour. Should be pretty
emotional. They should be arriving at the cemetery in around
fifteen minutes.”

“Great,” said Bortnicker, “because that
scrapple mystery meat went right through me. I’ve gotta hit the
can, and fast.”

Mike cast a furtive glance to his left and
right. “Well, if it’s an emergency, you can use the rangers’
restroom to the right. You’re really not supposed to. Just be
quick.”

“No problem there,” said Bortnicker, already
in motion. “You coming, Big Mon?”

“Why not?”

The boys pushed through a pneumatic metal
door, walked down a short corridor, then made a right into the
surprisingly spacious restroom.

Minutes later they were washing up when the
heavy door banged open again, the voices of two men clearly
audible. “Let’s talk in here, Bruce,” said the first voice. “Too
many people in the office.”

“Okay, Al,” said Morrison, whose voice the
boys instantly recognized from their previous encounter. “So, let
me be clear on this. One of your officers actually had an encounter
with the horseman?”

Upon hearing these words T.J. and Bortnicker
turned toward each other, their eyes silver dollar wide. And then,
T.J. did something he would never be able to explain later.
Grabbing Bortnicker by the arm, he half-dragged, half-pushed him
into a stall, latched the hasp behind them, and yanked Bortnicker
upwards to where they crouched precariously on each side of the
toilet seat, their hands on each other’s shoulders for balance.

“That’s the size of it,” said Al Warren, as
the men entered the larger area of the restroom. “Rudy Herzog was
on night patrol around 12:45 A.M. in the area of Trostle Farm when
he spotted him. When Rudy made his presence known, the horseman
bolted.”

“He took evasive action?”

“Yup. Rode right past the cruiser and led
Rudy on a merry chase. Herzog nearly ripped the bottom out of the
cruiser going through the fields.”

“And he confirmed Weinstein’s
description?”

“To a T. Over six feet, full Confederate
uniform, on a very big black horse. He got the dead animal smell,
too.”

“Holy Toledo.”

“But that’s not all. Rudy chased him all the
way to Little Round Top, but he ended up swerving to avoid a road
maintenance barrier and wiped out. He almost went over the edge,
Bruce.”

“Is he okay?”

“Yeah, as okay as you can be after seeing a
ghost.”

“So you believe it’s not an actual
human?”

There was a pause. “Listen, Bruce. I believe
there’s an explanation for everything, even crazy stuff like UFO’s.
But this? I don’t see any other answer.

“The good thing is that this being has only
manifested himself at night. The bad thing is that reenactment week
is only days away, and I can’t be sure he won’t show up during the
daytime. Can you?”

“No.”

The boys heard the sound of a urinal
flushing, then water running at the sink and the rattling of a
paper towel dispenser. Warren concluded, “We’ll just stay after it
and hope for the best. I’ll tell you, Herzog’s pretty fired up over
this. He says if he sees this guy again he’s gonna blow him
away.”

“What did you say to that?”

“Bruce, I almost found myself asking my
deputy if he seriously believed his Glock could hurt a ghost.
Incredible.”

The two men walked out of the restroom, the
door whooshing shut behind them. T.J. and Bortnicker allowed a
minute to pass then carefully let go of each other and stepped down
off the commode, their hearts still pounding. “So it’s not just
you,” said Bortnicker, swallowing hard.

“And I get the feeling it’s not just
Weinstein, either,” added T.J.

They quickly exited the restroom and made for
the front desk, hoping Mike hadn’t left for the cemetery yet. “So,
you still up for Wednesday night?” said T.J. as they hurried
along.

“More than ever,” answered Bortnicker.

They caught up with Mike and together took
the golf cart to the cemetery, where the soldiers awaited them near
the Lincoln Monument. Most were young men in their early twenties,
but they seemed older, reserved. Thankfully, none had obvious
wounds from their time in action. However, at various points in
Mike’s presentation the boys could see some of the young veterans
tearing up, maybe thinking of their own comrades who had given “The
last full measure.”

* * * *

They met up with LouAnne for a late lunch at
the house. Aunt Terri was absent, probably running errands. T.J.
helped Bortnicker assemble some peanut butter and strawberry jam
sandwiches on whole wheat bread, accompanied by glasses of iced
milk and a huge communal bowl of potato chips.

“Your father’s got to know what’s going on,”
Bortnicker mused, trying to clear the roof of his mouth of the
gummy peanut butter.

“That’s probably why he’s always after us
about staying clear of the battlefield at night,” added T.J.,
dropping a handful of chips onto his plate.

“I agree,” his cousin said, “but we still
can’t let him know that we’re aware of what’s going on. One thing,
though. If we do meet up with our ghost on Wednesday night, do we
tell my dad then?”

“We’ll just have to play that by ear,”
cautioned T.J.

“Unless the ghost just shoots us all, then
there’s nothing to worry about,” joked Bortnicker.

“Not funny,” said LouAnne.

“Oops, sorry.”

“So how do we get out there?” asked T.J.

“Well, both our bedrooms are on the second
floor, but right below is the roof of the front porch overhang. We
go out the window onto the overhang and climb down onto the porch.
It’s sturdy enough.”

“You’ve done this?” asked Bortnicker.

“Of course,” said LouAnne proudly. “Don’t you
think I have any fun around here?”

“Won’t your parents hear us?” asked T.J.

“Not if we’re quiet,” assured LouAnne. “Their
room is across the hallway, so their window opens on to the other
side of the porch. No big deal.”

“What time do we go?” asked Bortnicker.

LouAnne’s brows knitted in concentration.
“I’d say to be on the safe side we slip out at ten. Both my parents
are ‘early to bed, early to rise’ fiends. We could be out on the
battlefield proper by ten-thirty or so.”

“Where should we want to be?” asked
Bortnicker.

“Well,” said T.J., “if you consider the
reports of Weinstein, the deputy and me, this guy is all over the
place. I think if he wants to find us, he will. What we have to
make sure is that we can’t be seen from any paved roads a police
car could use.”

“Like a woodsy-type area?” asked his
cousin.

“Yeah.”

“Hmmm...my choice would be Pitzer’s Woods.
It’s at the southern tip of Seminary Ridge. There was some fighting
there, although it didn’t involve cavalry. I mean, we could go to
East Cavalry Field, but that’s a couple miles from here and I just
don’t know how we could get there without a car. What do you guys
think?”

“Pitzer’s Woods it is,” said T.J.
decisively.

Chapter Twenty

Tuesday was rainy and dreary and seemed to
take forever. After an abbreviated run the cousins and Bortnicker
sat down with Aunt Terri for some cereal and small talk. LouAnne
had a rare day off from babysitting and was traveling with her
mother a few miles away to the nearest shopping mall in Hagerstown
for back-to-school clothes and a new pair of Nike track shoes she
couldn’t find locally. Terri asked the boys where they were headed
and Bortnicker wondered if she could drop them off at the Visitor
Center.

“Again?” moaned T.J.

“I want to check out their research library,”
said Bortnicker. Then, quietly to T.J. he whispered, “I have to
check some leads on what division our boy is from.”

“Oh, well, in that case, why not?” T.J.
agreed.

* * * *

Meanwhile, Mike Darcy had stopped at the
General Meade Luncheonette for a buttered roll and was surprised to
see his former student, Rudy Herzog, hunched over a steaming cup of
coffee, alone in a booth. He was staring into the black liquid and
had a vacant look in his eyes that frightened his former teacher.
Darcy checked his watch, figured he had at least twenty-five
minutes until he had to check in, and approached the booth.

“Okay if I join you, Rudy?” he asked.

“Oh, hi, Coach. Yeah, of course, slide on
in,” the deputy said, beckoning with his hand.

Mike settled into the leather bench seat and
looked into Herzog’s haggard face. “Not to be insulting, Rudy,” he
began, “but you look terrible. Like when Chambersburg beat us your
senior year.”

Rudy managed a tight smile. “Don’t remind me.
I was the one who blew the coverage and let their wide-out get
behind me, remember?”

“Rudy, everybody on Defense was to blame that
day. No one man loses a game. You were one of the best strong
safeties I ever coached. So what’s got you so down? Anything I can
help with?”

“Nah, Coach. This is beyond you. Maybe beyond
any of us in this world.”

Darcy looked around, made sure there was
nobody near. “Does this have to do with the shootings?”

“Yeah. You know, I had the misfortune of
being the first guy at both crime scenes. Three people. It was
awful.”

“I heard. Maybe you need to take some time
off.”

“No. I’m a police officer, Coach. It’s my
job. But, the other night, man, that was just too much.”

“What other night?”

Herzog, realizing he’d divulged sensitive
information, buried his head in his hands. “Aw, jeez, what’ve I
done now?”

“Hey, Rudy, if you don’t want to tell
me...”

“No, that’s okay. I’m sure you’ll find out
soon enough. I mean, you guys got briefed by the Chief on the
shootings, right?”

“Yes.”

“And the TV guy?”

“TV guy?”

“Yeah, there was this ghost hunter guy from
one of those cable shows. He was confronted by the soldier in
Devil’s Den.”

“But the soldier didn’t shoot him?”

“His gun jammed.”

“Oh. Hey, Rudy, I know you take your job
seriously, it’s just the way you are. But you’ve got—”

“I saw him.”

“You? When?”

“Sunday night. When I wrecked the car.”

“WHAT?”

“I still don’t believe it myself, Coach. But
hear me out.” He told Darcy the whole story, at times gesticulating
wildly as he described the desperate chase across the battlefield
and his near brush with death. Mike tried not to interrupt his
former player, who clearly needed to unburden himself to someone he
trusted, someone who knew him and wouldn’t think he was crazy.
Darcy was concentrating so hard he didn’t notice Bruce Morrison,
who just happened to be passing by, observing the men through the
plate glass window of the luncheonette.

Morrison only paused a few seconds, guessing
at the content of Herzog’s histrionic-filled monologue. He was
still contemplating what he’d witnessed as he entered the Visitor
Center and came upon Darcy’s nephew and his strange friend sitting
on the floor before the glass-encased uniform of a Confederate
cavalier. The friend was sketching the uniform, pointing things out
to Darcy’s nephew. Morrison crept within earshot and heard the
nephew say, “Yeah, Uncle Mike’s .44 would blow a mega-hole in you.
I can’t believe how easily he can control it.”

The friend said, “How about the sash around
this tunic’s waist. Was the soldier’s red like this one?”

“Couldn’t really tell. It was dark.”

Morrison backed away, wondering what in the
world was going on with the Darcy clan. Could one of his rangers,
or these two kids, be involved in any way with the goings-on in
Gettysburg? He’d already had a sit-down with the elder Darcy. Now
all he could do was keep a close watch on him and note anything
suspicious. But he would mention what he’d seen today to Al
Warren.

Yes, indeed.

Chapter Twenty-One

“What’s with you guys? Something wrong with
my fruit salad?” asked Aunt Terri.

“No, it’s great,” assured T.J. “Really.”

“So why are you just pushing your food around
the plate? LouAnne, you’re usually ravenous after your morning
run.”

“Must be the heat, Mom.”

“Yes, Mrs. D.,” piped in Bortnicker. “Even I,
who helped prepare this feast, find myself a little stodgy.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have chowed that third
plate of pasta last night,” cracked T.J. “You even outdid Uncle
Mike.”

Brushing aside T.J.’s remarks, Bortnicker
said, “Hey, Mrs. D., find any more bullets?”

“Not lately, but they’ll turn up.” She again
regarded the unusually reserved teens. “I know what,” she said
brightly. “After dinner, why don’t we all take in a movie?”

The three looked up, alarmed. Terri’s offer
hung in the air.

“Ah, we’ll have to pass on that one, Mrs.
D.,” said Bortnicker. “You see, the Red Sox are playing the
Phillies in an interleague game at seven on ESPN, and T.J. and I
bet LouAnne an ice cream sundae the Sox will kill ‘em. But thanks,
anyway. Maybe next week?”

“Well, alright. I’m just worried you boys
aren’t having any fun.”

“Are you kidding?” said Bortnicker. “We were
just talking about finishing that garden weeding and going into
town for a pizza!”

“What, no battlefield tour today?” Terri
asked, cleaning the breakfast plates.

“Even
we
have limits,” said T.J.
sheepishly.

LouAnne said, “And as for me, I’ll be—”

“Babysitting!” cried the boys in unison.

“Alright then,” said Terri, “it’s the
ballgame for tonight. I’ll make a big bowl of popcorn. It’ll be
fun! Even Mike will want to watch, even though he thinks baseball’s
a little slow. He’ll always be a football coach at heart.”