Pipeline (11 page)

Susan had left and returned with take-out,
which they ate in the kitchen. Now, the late evening hours brought
them to the paneled underground of the basement: a comfortable,
dual-purpose lair that served as both a study and a TV room, with
bookshelves aligning the walls, another computer, a desk and table,
and several chairs surrounding a large lounge sofa. They kindled a
fire in the stone hearth of the den’s fireplace, and a discussion
of the day’s events ensued.

“Tracy, what happened here today is this,”
Dylan said. “When someone has most recently died, especially young
and tragically the way that David did, that spirit is often of the
weakest form. The more powerful and capable spirits have been dead
for years, decades, even centuries, and are far more likely to
interact with the human world, but we believe that David managed
enough strength to establish a pipeline connection; how and why is
the question.

“Unfortunately, something far more powerful
in the spirit world had interrupted David’s efforts: a greater,
malignant force that overwhelmed the lesser one. That violent
interruption displayed all the classic signs of a poltergeist
occurrence, and I was able to confirm that from the EMF
reading.”

“And,” Brett said, “We don’t know whether the
pipeline connection had attracted the poltergeist, drawing it
forward like a magnet, or if the poltergeist manifestation had
already been hiding here, allowing the pipeline connection to take
place. The first theory is most likely.”

Tracy was beginning to understand all of the
jargon now, and that alone was frightening, but the inconceivable
thought of David being tormented in the afterlife was worse. It
filled her heart with a cold dread, and a nervous sweat drenched
her forehead.

“So, what about David? What does he
want?”

“We can’t know that, Tracy,” Sidney said, “at
least not yet, but I assure you that I am going to do my best to
communicate with him.”

He took her trembling hands in his and
wondered whether or not those shakes were altogether from fright
and not the effects of alcohol. He said nothing. They had all
downed a few beers with dinner, and though this wasn’t common,
neither were the day’s events that seemed to strike ethics and
procedure from the instruction manuals. After all, a cesspool of
paranormal activity was swelling so greatly around this young woman
they’d met only a day earlier that they were now camping out in her
house to protect her. All bets on protocol were off.

They sat surrounding the stone hearth where
the crackling, orange flames were catching quickly, and they basked
in the baking warmth it radiated.

“Is there anything that you remember before
the night you were awakened in front of the TV—anything unusual?”
Leah asked.

Tracy thought back for a few seconds and
shook her head--nothing.

“Then, I agree with Brett,” she said. “The
pipeline connection that David made is what invited the poltergeist
in. And I also have to agree with Dr. Logan, Sidney. Either you, I,
or Tracy, could have been the attraction for this thing.”

“Then it’s bound to return,” Sidney said.
“Our job is to help David. He is communicating for a reason, a
reason unknown to us. But it is possible that once we help David,
this thing may cease along with the pipeline connection.”

“And it may not,” Leah said. “Let’s be
honest, once that thing is through, it could stay. It could remain
right here and linger for years. I should know.”

“But, we are going to make damn sure that
doesn’t happen.” Sidney’s voice was adamant; he wouldn’t be
deterred by riddles and timetables dictated to him by a ghostly
menace whose existence seemed dependent.

“Tracy, have you ever noticed any other
activity in the house, specifically down here in the den?” Dylan
asked.

“No,” she said, taking another swig from her
beer. Dylan and Susan eyed her, thankful that the bottle of bourbon
remained upstairs.

“Then you should know,” he said, “that
activity, especially poltergeist activity, is not limited to any
one area. It could occur at any time or any place it chooses.” His
words caused them all to glance around the room in wonder. Nothing
stirred except the fire that popped piping hot embers up the
chimney. They sat back, taking advantage of the peaceful calm that
descended over the abode, but their silent, secret thoughts knew it
would be brief.

* * * *

Somewhere between the cleaning and the
dine-in take-out, Brett did some research and fact checking.
Everything that Tracy had experienced prior to the team’s
involvement had to be examined with full, microscopic attention.
Every minute detail that led to the pipeline connection had to be
recorded, examined, and scrutinized. Tracy Kimball would be a first
for the society’s archives, and the fact that the whole team and a
psychiatrist were immersed in the investigation, would add a
concrete credulity to their findings.

Tracy’s consent and his university
credentials equipped him for his first order of business: to enlist
the aid of the phone company and zero in on the strange calls that
had registered no caller identification.

“Since the times of the calls are
approximate, with the exception of the last one,” he said, “the
operator could only narrow down two calls that came from an unknown
source, one mostly likely
not
automated.” This revelation
was met with a stunned silence, even though the time for surprise
seemed over. “So, the caller wasn’t calling from a computer or even
a land or cell line. The term NO DATA SENT showed on the display,
which is sometimes explainable, but the origin of the caller was
untraceable, and now the phone company is baffled by it.”

Brett spoke into the voice recorder that Leah
used in documenting cases, but that didn’t relieve her of copying
his words exactly on paper. Transcriptions were mandatory incase of
a damaged tape, so she scribbled furiously.

“I’d also like to address this e-mail.” He
retrieved a printed copy of the e-mail that contained the
continuous, ghostly typing of her name. “We now consider this proof
of an outside, physical manifestation. In other words, Tracy,
whatever typed this did so from outside the computer. This wasn’t a
‘ghost in the machine’ type of occurrence. Some metaphysical entity
exerted a physical force upon the keyboard to type the letters of
your name over and over. This was most likely the best that it
could accomplish. The same type of precision was used upon the
radio.”

Tracy couldn’t help but be amazed at how the
soft, sleepy drawl of Brett Taylor had now projected the full
embodiment of a seasoned, scientific scholar. She recognized the
flashing red lights of the video cameras he and Dylan had set up in
the den.

“Are those things recording, now?” She
asked.

“Yes,” he said. “We are going to keep them
rolling for the duration in any room that we are all assembled in.
Remember, activity can recur at any moment.”

“And keeping that in mind, it’s time we
watched this,” Dylan said, pointing to the laptop that would
playback the live action feed recorded in the living room earlier.
“It’s best that we all be reminded of what we’re up against, and
it’s also procedure.”

They gathered around the laptop, where a déjà
vu of the day’s events filled each corner of the flat, black
screen. They saw themselves watching the static and inching closer
toward the infected television, hearing the sounds and voices. They
saw the fear, the confusion, Leah comforting Tracy and then
stepping forward.

Then they watched as the forceful gust of
wind toppled the cameras over, redirecting the rolling video upward
to capture a shaky view of the ceiling. Seconds passed before the
cameras were reassembled and the right aspect returned. They could
still see Sidney and Leah in front of the TV.

The entire episode was played out again,
including the odd, sea of light that surrounded the specter. But
there was one thing the camera didn’t record: the specter itself.
The brilliant halo of light shone down upon nothing except Leah,
whose voice was confronting something just underneath it.

“Where is it?! That thing...spirit...whatever
it was—we saw it!” Susan gasped.

They neared the end, and Dylan paused the
playback.

“Sometimes apparitions are picked up on
video, but sometimes not,” he said. “There could be a few reasons
why that person or thing isn’t seen on the playback. It could be
because that thing wasn’t what we know as a spirit, but in fact, a
poltergeist entity. Maybe the apparition wasn’t directly affecting
the camera and therefore, it remains unseen. The voices however,
were affecting the TV, and so we heard them. Now, I want you all to
notice how the light is blinding in the video.”

He pointed and released the pause button on
the screen. The tremendous light they’d experienced earlier
engulfed the entire view of the flat screen, usurping human shapes
and objects to where only outlines could be seen. Toward the end,
the playback became nothing but a display of shimmering whiteness.
Dylan stopped it and continued.

“The apparition that we saw could have been a
human at one time, but it could also have been a projection of the
poltergeist as we discussed earlier. As I’m sure you all witnessed,
that thing looked human, but it also looked inhuman. A poltergeist
can take any form it wants to whether human, or otherwise. The
blackness of those eyes could have been inhabiting human form.”

“They were large, black pits of nothing,”
Leah said, transfixed in thought, her eyes unblinking, trying her
best to describe them. “Like rounded windows into the dark void of
space.”

A few silent, thought filled moments
passed.

“So, is this thing preventing David from
speaking to me? Why?” Tracy repeated the word why like a tolling
bell, the growing confusion in her voice knelling a plea of rescue
from this incessant nightmare. A deep, dark voice told her that
she’d opened Pandora’s Box.

“We don’t know that,” Sidney said. “It could
be that subconsciously you are afraid of communicating with David,
either out of fear, or the survivor’s guilt.” He took both of her
hands in his. “Tracy, do you trust me?”

He knew this was an odd question, considering
she’d only known him for almost two days, but she nodded her head
with the conviction of a customer marked as sold.

“Then believe me that I’ll communicate with
David, and nothing will stop me. I’ll get to the bottom of this and
soon.” This was a promise that Sidney Pratt was hell-bent on
keeping; this was his life’s work. As far as he was concerned, he
had all the time in the world, and David had even more time in the
next one.

Chapter Twelve

They sat around the
fire, keeping nighttime vigil, swapping stories, and remaining
watchful, careful of their surroundings, eyes silently searching
for the slightest disruption of the snug setting. Only the warm,
orange-blue glow from the hearth and a dim table lamp lit the room,
but several fluorescent lamps brought by the team in the event of
nighttime activity, stood tall, turned off, and waiting...just in
case.

The overnight guest arrangements had been
settled. Dylan and Brett opted for the living room, where the day’s
activity had occurred. They would be there to record any recurrence
erupting in the night. There were two guestrooms: one for Sidney,
the other for Leah. The team agreed that Leah should be as near as
possible to Tracy, a concern that made Tracy feel like the target,
the agent, and the eye of a brewing storm.

Susan decided not to stay; she would leave
when all were ready to settle down for the night. The passing
evening hours gave her and Sidney the chance to discuss all of
life’s happenings since the day she saw him last, a boy in her
office. She talked more to Leah about her father and assured her
that she was going to help Tracy in the exact same way. And then
the night’s conversation suddenly shifted focus toward Tracy, who
sat sulking, quiet, and subdued.

“Hey,” Sidney said to her. “You still haven’t
told us all about your life before all this, you know: your family,
your career, whatever...”

He playfully prompted her to join in the
conversation, realizing that the more they knew about Tracy, the
better. He wondered if something in Tracy’s early life could have
enabled her to be receptive to this type of activity, though he
remained quiet of his suspicion. In his mind, he kept hearing that
voice over and over about time slipping through the hourglass.

They stared at her as she rose, retrieved her
purse, and sat back down. She fumbled inside the brown leather bag
and pulled out the diamond engagement ring that David had given
her. The shine on the octagonal rock glimmered even by the soft
spark of firelight in the dimness, and she maintained a steady gaze
upon it, lost in silent memories, while anxious faces awaited the
sound of her voice.

“I can’t imagine ever parting with this,” she
said, holding the ring between the fingers of both hands. “It was
months before I could even take it off.”

The crackling fire stressed the solemn,
silent pause.

“What’s to tell? I was an only child of two
simple people; my father was a successful insurance salesman, and
my mother was a secretary. They retired comfortably, gave me this
house, and packed up to Florida. David and I met while I was in
nursing school, and he was an EMT. My parents assumed that David
and I would live here once we were married, but of course, that
didn’t happen. Well, who knows, maybe it will?”

She choked on a sudden, surprising, chuckle,
as brief insanity lingered.

“Stranger things have happened, right?” Her
tone echoed the sarcasm of someone predestined to defy the odds,
and she had. Dylan spoke up.