Project Lazarus (5 page)

Gilbert and Ivan Chuttle were still running, their house now close in sight.  Both boys gasping for air, stealing a glimpse behind them for the man from hell, back and forth the routine went.

Gilbert stopped, holding the arm of his younger brother Ivan back.  Gilbert whacked his left ear again.

“Nothing,” he said to Ivan.  He still couldn’t hear anything.

Ivan whacked his right ear and reported back to Gilbert, “Me neither.”

Both boys had lost partial hearing in one ear from the strange noise outside of the building in the woods.

They stared at each other for a moment.  They were only ten and twelve years old but inside they felt older.  They had grown up that day in an unfamiliar way.  This was no rite of passage.  This was aging that came from knowing too much.

They listened for footsteps.  There were none.  They looked for the man from hell.  He wasn’t there.

“What happened out there?” Gilbert asked, stumped.

“I don’t know Gil.  I just don’t know.”

“What are we gonna tell our folks?” Gilbert asked.

“The truth,” Ivan retorted.

The boys sat on the curb inches from their house.  The danger was far away now but felt somehow close.

“Yeah, what’s that?”

“The truth? Don’t know.”

“How we gonna explain our hearing?” Gilbert asked, now scared, “They’ll want to take us to a doctor.

“We lie.”

“First the truth…now the lie,” Gilbert shook his head.  “None of this seems right.  Wish we hadn’t gone out there.”

“Why?  It was a great adventure.  Bet none of the kids have stories like us.  We can tell everyone at school now.”

“No,” Gilbert demanded, “you promise.”

Ivan always gave into his older brother’s requests and his threats.

He shrugged, “Okay.”

“Nobody can know we were out there,” Gilbert told him, “It’s too dangerous.”

“You think they’ll come after us?” Ivan was scared.

“Maybe.  I think something happened out there Ivan.”

“Best we keep it to ourselves then brother,” Ivan agreed.

“Yes, brother, let’s do that.”

Silence for a moment.

“For how long?” Ivan asked.

“I think forever,” Gilbert answered somberly. Secrets were hard to hide it didn’t take age or wisdom to know this was a secret for life.

“Who do you think that man was in the woods?”

“Somebody I don’t want to ever see again,” Gilbert explained, his eyes widening.

There was a shadowy figure approaching them quickly.  It was dark outside and it was getting difficult to tell who it was.

Gilbert strained his eyes, at least one of his senses remained in perfect condition.  He always maintained twenty- twenty vision, to the point of perfection that several eye doctors in Cotter recommended he think about becoming a pilot.  He did spend a lot of time considering being a pilot. Last summer, before the woods, Gilbert began his study of the sky by collecting model airplanes, the books on the history of airplanes and just about anything to do with flight in general.

“You believe in hell?” Ivan asked.  

Gilbert grabbed his brother’s arm.

“Hey,” Ivan yelped, he was getting tired of this routine.

“Let’s go,” Gilbert commanded.

“Okay,” Ivan said, knowing his brother meant it.

The shadowy figure crept up on them so fast and whizzed by, Gilbert didn’t have the chance to complete the escape route to their house planned in his head.

Glen Stickler scooted past them on his skateboard.

“What’s up guys?”

“Geeze Glen, why do you have to sneak up on people like that?” Gilbert asked, annoyed.

“What’s with you?”  Glen retorted.

“Nothing,” Ivan mumbled.

“Wanna see my new skateboard?” He asked, pointing to the shiny black object beneath his feet with wheels both boys envied if not coveted that very moment.

“Cool,” Gilbert managed, knowing fully well the Chuttle family was not as wealthy as the Stickler family. Glen only wanted to brag about his new toy.          

“Sorry, maybe later,” Gilbert told him.

“Jealous, huh?”

“No way,” Ivan retorted, “I got a new bike just last year.  It was red and it has a horn and everything.”

“Yeah? But this is the newest coolest skateboard in the store,” Glen said twirling around on it, “I’m gonna be pro one day.”

“Good for you.  No big deal Glen,” Gilbert said, straining his eyes again, there were more shadows approaching in the dark, as night began to fall.

“Look Glen, we just don’t have the time now.  We’ve got to get home,” he leaned in closer to Glen, “And I think you should go home too.”

“Why?  I’m not some baby with a curfew.”

Ivan stared at his brother.  Usually, a comment like that from Glen would get Gilbert worked up into a fist fight.

Gilbert remained stoic and quiet.

Ivan glanced around.  He saw the shadows.

Did Glen see them too?

“Go home Glen,” Gilbert urged him.  There would be plenty of time trivial fighting.  Or would there?

“Huh?”  Glen seemed genuinely confused, “Okay.”

“See you in school,” Glen called back.

But the Chuttle boys didn’t answer.

They watched the shadows grow from several to many.  Lonely souls, the brothers stood there wondering what they were looking at.

“You see them?” Gilbert asked.

“Yes,” Ivan told him, “They’re coming.”

They ran again, as fast as they could, just like they did when they ran from the man in the woods.

They raced up to the front door of their house.  They looked at each other in surprise.  The door was wide open.  Both their parents Gilroy and Ida Chuttle were home.  They always kept the door locked.

It was dark inside the house.

The boys crept in slowly, past the door, Gilbert leading the way.  He glanced at the brightly lit clock it was 9pm.  Their parents were asleep with the front door wide open?  It didn’t make sense.

Where did the time go?  Did they lose time in the woods?  Gilbert figured it was only 7pm.  Where did the other two hours go?

The entire day had turned into an adventure alright.  One they never imagined.  One that kept going.

Ivan snuck back to close the door and lock it tight.  Whatever was in the house, they would deal with it together, as a family.

They crept through the rooms, small but lived in, on the bottom floor.  The living room.  Empty.  The kitchen.  Empty.

Up the stairs they went.

Slowly now, like two mice disturbing the peace, no matter how carefully they walked, they made creaks and noises with their feet hitting old floorboards.

Their parents’ bedroom door was wide open.  Both were inside and fast asleep.

“Maybe they forgot to lock the door,” Ivan whispered trying to console him.

“I don’t think it’s that easy to explain anymore,” Gilbert confessed, “something is going on in the town Ivan.”

“What Gil?”

“I don’t know,” Gilbert replied.

“I mean…I couldn’t hear you.  What did you say Gil,” he questioned aloud, now, pointing to his deaf right ear.

Gilbert shook his head for his brother to remain silent.

With two deaf ears out of four, neither boy heard the stranger coming up from behind them.

“Gilbert….Ivan….It’s so good to see you,” announced the man.

In the flicker of the moonlight, both boys stood in amazement.  The man before them was their Grandpa Joe.

Dressed in his best Sunday suit, he appeared just like the last time they saw him, being lowered into the ground in a coffin. 

Ivan screamed.

Gilbert stood dazed.

“Who’s there?” A woman’s voice called from the distance.  It was their mother, Ida Chuttle.  Grandpa Joe was her father.

She came to the bedroom door, saw the boys, saw Grandpa Joe and fainted.

Gardenia Hall was Cotter’s resident ghost whisperer.  Her unusual talent brought the kind of notoriety that was unacceptable in the small town of Cotter, Arkansas.  It was the kind of thing that might get you ostracized.  It was the kind of the thing that did get Gardenia ostracized.

Her grandmother Geraldine raised her from her youth, after a terrible car crash in which her parents perished but she survived.  It was a sad good bye and a rude awakening for Gardenia.  When she started seeing her parents, shortly after their death, her grandmother tried to explain.  It was Geraldine Hall, a then 82 year old woman, raising a 10 year old, who bore the burden of the family secret. 

When she finally convinced Gardenia her parents were real, when she finally convinced Gardenia she could indeed talk to them, when she assured Gardenia to encourage them to go into the light, things changed.  Gardenia changed and she was never the same.

Gardenia Hall, now 32, lived in the open with her secret for 22 years.  She saw nothing to be ashamed of.   So she could talk to the dead?  She did what was best for them.  Sometimes, she helped them with unfinished business.  Sometimes, she helped them to the light.  In the case of her grandmother, Geraldine, who passed away when Gardenia was 20, she simply said goodbye.

It was Dale Kargen, a local journalist, who convinced her to write a book and tell her story.  That part she regretted.  It brought the kind of attention that left her feeling a bit like a caged animal.

Most of her work came from strangers, people outside the town of Cotter and for that she was grateful.

Cotter held dark memories for her filled in the clouds that were her gift and her curse.  There was only one person who accepted her gift and her friendship. Growing up in a cloud of doom there was a simple silver lining.  That silver lining was a boy named Travis Hilfin.

Travis attended Cotter High School with Gardenia and kept her secret until the day he parted Cotter. 

Travis walked away to College, far away in Pennsylvania, as far as he could get from Cotter, Arkansas and his abusive father.  She decided to let him be and although it was fourteen years since his departure, she never forgot him.  She never knew what happened to him either. 

Of course, there were the rumors or the occasional so called friends willing to rub salt into the wound.

“He’s married.”

“I heard he became a doctor.”

“Somebody told me he’s living in California now.”

“I think he’s moving……”

The words all seemed to blur.  It really didn’t matter.  They weren’t a part of each other’s lives anymore.  Even though, she knew in her heart their lives were inexplicably entwined.

She stared at the only photo she had of them together.  In her small apartment, he didn’t seem so far away.  It felt like yesterday.

The photo was black and white.  It was taken by an opportunistic photographer in high school.  It was lopsided, some form of art and the bottom half of Gardenia was cut off.  Gardenia cut the photo with scissors herself.  Gardenia cut out another fellow student on the right side of Travis.  She never belonged in the picture and it was obvious, as Travis stood closest to her.

It was a miracle she even had the photograph, after all these years.  First off because she had a falling out with the girl that took the photograph.  And second, she moved around so much, an occupational hazard, with all of the ghosts living in so many dwellings. She chose to rent a tiny apartment not own a home, in case uninvited guests popped in.

She placed the picture in a simple plastic frame long ago.  She took it out and looked at it from time to time.  She also studied the letter she wrote Travis but never sent.

It was Travis who once asked her something she never forgot.

“Are you happy?” He asked, in one of their many phone conversations.

“Yes,” Gardenia answered stupidly.  It wasn’t the truth.  She wasn’t one to confront the truth.

“As long as you’re happy, I’m happy,” he replied.

When they parted ways, their destinies changed forever.  This wasn’t the way it was supposed to be.  It was a cruel fate.  But she could stop Travis no more than he could stop her.

Their worlds were entwined, yet far apart and now in the mix of the strange happenings in Cotter, Arkansas, their strange worlds were about to collide.

She ran her hand over the photo again.  She put the photo and letter back in the drawer underneath her hat.

She wondered.  If she had the chance, would she change things? 

An overwhelming chill came over her, as if, she was being watched.  It was a presence she understood.  It was the feeling a ghost.  Her eyelids closed and she held her breath, hoping it would pass.  But it wouldn’t let her go.  Her hands shook and she reached for her only vice in the world besides the photo and letter in the drawer, the glass, the one she kept refusing to believe she filled with hard liquor.  Clear liquor, colored liquor, it didn’t matter, as long as it went down her throat and allowed her to lose her mind.

The green chair she sat on was ratty and rough.  But material things didn’t matter to Gardenia.  She witnessed more things than other people would in a lifetime.  Unexplainable things.

The apartment was sparse and the chill was growing stronger.  She stared at the poster on the wall.  It was a stunning picture of a solitary mountain shadowed by a statue of Christ.  The words written beneath it “FAITH”. “He who believes is strong.  He who doubts is weak.”

She pondered the word faith for so many years.  She stared at a mustard seed, so tiny, and wondered how she didn’t have enough faith, enough to believe in miracles.  She witnessed miracles but not for herself.  Even with her doubts, she couldn’t give up this thing called faith.  She couldn’t give up the idea of a God, one that was powerful and all knowing.  She would never give up the idea God existed.  He had to be there despite his many critics.  She disliked the idea so many people had given up on God.

Her thoughts drifted from her original intention, to finish the warm liquid in the glass to calm her nerves.  Or was it to forget?  She wasn’t sure.

Time passed and so did the glasses.  Refilling them.  Downing them.  It was a Tuesday morning.  That much she knew.  The rest of what she knew was numb now.

The knock at the door startled her.  She had drifted into a silence she preferred.  She let the glass hit the table with a thud.  Her awkward hands, suddenly forgetting how to move, now wrestled through her long black hair.

Another knock.  Good Lord, who was it?  Didn’t the world know it was time to leave her alone?  She liked being alone.  And she didn’t like surprises.

“Gardenia, open the door,” a voice whispered in her ear.

She furrowed her eyebrows, squinted in an attempt to think.  Was it even possible to think in her state of mind?

That voice.  Who was it?

“Open the door,” it beckoned again.

Mesmerized, like a child in some odd trance, she found herself at the door.

She looked out the peephole.

She knew the man even before she saw him.

It was Travis Hill, dressed in military fatigues.

Suddenly, her senses were full on.  She awoke in mind and body with heightened awareness.  This could mean only one thing.  Travis was dead.  She had to let him in.

She pinched her arm.  She was very much alive.

She opened the door.

“Travis?  Travis is it really you?”  She reached out to hug him and jumped back.  This was no apparition.  He was real.

“Gardenia.…”

“No,” she ordered him, studying him now.  How could this be?  There was an aura around him.  He was dead.  Yet, he talked and acted very much like he was alive.

“Travis,” she whispered, staring at him stunned.

“It’s me Gardenia.”

“But you’re dead,” she argued.

“I know,” he confided, “I was dead and then I wasn’t.”

“How do you know?”

“I don’t,” he told her, “it just happened.”

She stared at his full head of black wavy hair, olive complexion and brown eyes.  It was him alright.

“I came to you because I know you’re secret gift.  I thought you could help me to the other side.  But something strange happened .  It was kind of miracle.  I was alive again.  Look at us Gardenia.  After all these years, how many people get another chance?”

“Travis, don’t say that,” she stopped him.

“I read your letter, in the short time I was gone.”

“But how?”

“Oh, you can see everything from up there,” he said pointing to the ceiling and the sky beyond, “but you know that already.  Gardenia I could have written that letter myself,” he moved in closer to her.

“No, this isn’t right,” she gently moved him aside and walked back to her ratty green chair, standing behind it to create distance from him. 

It was Travis.  But she couldn’t be sure how it was Travis.  And that made it all wrong.  It made it dangerous for them both.

“You shouldn’t be telling me this,” she paused, “I mean, I’m glad you’re telling me this.  But not like this.  We have to figure out what happened to you.”

“Well, after I graduated from college I got recruited by the CIA.  I did a lot of stuff for the government.  Stuff I can’t really talk about,” he paused his alive eyes searching hers, blankly but trustingly.

“I understand Travis,” she followed his eyes, letting him know she was safe to talk to.

A part of her wanted to fall down on the ground with shock.  There he was the boy she knew her whole life but something was terribly wrong with this picture.

“After, my promotion, they kind of owed me those government spooks…So, I cashed in.  I asked them to reassign me to a new project in Cotter.  Only, I ended up duped.  I couldn’t tell anyone I was here.  I couldn’t tell you.”

“What project Travis?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he laughed.

“Try me.”

“They actually got some crazy looking dude from the Amazon, some tribe leader, said he could raise people from the dead.”

She grabbed onto the chair.  It was becoming clear.

“Travis, I think you died.  Do you remember?”