Tales of Chills and Thrills: The Mystery Thriller Horror Box Set (7 Mystery Thriller Horror Novels) (136 page)

I fell right off to sleep as soon as my head hit the pillow and sometime thereafter the strange dreams returned. I was standing outside of a large cathedral in an old city that looked Slavic, and I was waiting for someone to come get me because I didn’t know where I was, or how I had gotten there. An old man dressed in an overcoat approached me and whispered, “There is only one Name under heaven.”

I asked him what that name was and he said nothing in response. He walked on and then he stopped, about thirty feet from me; looking back, he said “only one Name under heaven.”

“What is that name?!” I shouted, and then I awoke to see Kevin and Anthony standing near my bed looking at me anxiously.

“I was shouting, right?” I said, embarrassed.

Kevin said, “Tell. It wasn’t that you were shouting… it was
what
you were shouting.” He looked strange.

Anthony said anxiously, “I didn’t know you spoke Farsi.”

“Farsi… The hell is Farsi?” I asked.

“The language they speak in Iraq. Have you been there?” he asked, studying my face.

“You know I haven’t. What was it you heard me say?”

“I only know a few words… I think you asked where the entrance was?” Anthony said slowly.

“The entrance? Entrance to what?” I asked.

“The entrance is what is commonly mentioned by the Iraqi people when they witness something they can’t explain. Like a man levitating in his sleep. They believe in hell and the entrance they talk about is that. Hell’s entrance.” Anthony went on to say, “There’s something else, Tell.” He took a deep breath. “We both saw you levitating about a foot above your bed.” He pointed towards a nodding Kevin who was obviously in agreement with him.

Anthony said, “The Iraqi people believe in demonic possession and think that something like levitation is demonic.”

“That’s very ‘Dark Ages,’ Anthony. Last time I looked I didn’t have a relationship with the devil… You know something, in my tradition, one of our Saints, Teresa of Avila, would levitate, at times, and fly around her church,” I responded defensively. Still, to myself I thought, ‘Could that be what’s happening? The devil playing with my head? Wanting to know the name of God, so he could he could have access to His glorious presence, to maybe look into His face and plead for a pardon? Really?’ My thoughts were broken by the continuing conversation.

“This is very weird,” came Anthony’s opinion.

“I think it’s cool,” said Kevin scrunching his face like he was having a great thought. “I think this project could spawn
another
project. You get my drift… guys… you know?

“I’m sleepy — let’s talk about it tomorrow.” Anthony waved goodnight as he walked toward the rear of the bus and his bed.

Kevin went back outside after I apologized for startling him in the first place. “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” he said with a sarcastic grin as he exited the rig.

No more dreams that night and when the sun rose so did I.

With a cup of coffee sitting in front of me I dove into my work which by midday would have a good portion of the underpinnings of the research piece complete. Now I would be writing about the influence of the moon and energy fields upon all living things on Earth who could dream.

“Mornin’, Tell,” said a yawning Anthony as he poured himself a coffee. “Did you do anymore flying last night?” He chuckled as he sat in a seat opposite mine. He had a mischievous grin on his face. He had developed his nickname for me, which was one half of my last name. Thus ‘Teller’

“No, I got held on the runway due to a bullshit storm that made taking off again impossible,” I said without looking up from my laptop.

“I haven’t seen shit like that since I saw the Exorcist… and there it was right in front of me. I’d have been one scared observer if you started spitting pea soup,” he said in an obvious attempt to make light of what he’d seen. He was caustic but maintained a respectful posture. I could have had him reassigned and he knew that but I couldn’t help believing he was really halfway saying what he really meant.

Kevin came in from outside and grabbed a cup of coffee, too. He mumbled something and sat down in the remaining chair opposite me. “You know, last night I believe we witnessed a manifestation of what the moon and energy can do to a dreamer while asleep.”

I looked up from my writing and said, “And… you want to keep a camera on me tonight just in case I go airborne again. Is that right?”

“I thought I might keep the camera handy… you never know.”

“That was the first time I have ever levitated, that I know of, and I hope it’s also the last. Kevin? I don’t know that I want that stuff recorded for public knowledge,” I said.

“I understand… sorry,” Kevin said.

“That’s okay. I just want to keep this objective and drawing me in would change the whole way I write it, if pictures of me levitating had a possibility of showing up in some pictorial award you win someday. Just think… I can just hear you saying ‘I want to thank everybody I have ever met in my whole life, as I accept this award, but I want to especially thank the one who made this all possible, the one and only’ and then you produce a picture of me with a dumb look on my face,” I said with a laugh as I put my hands behind my head and sat back in my chair.

His response was to raise his camera and snap a picture of me as he said, “I need this for my ‘Asshole of the Year Award’.” He checked the camera screen for the picture and started to put it down — then quickly rechecked it, with a puzzled look on his face.

He brought the camera over to where I was sitting and showed me something that made me jump in amazement… for in the picture standing right behind me was Teresa, the Slavic mystic.

“Where the hell did she come from?” I blurted.

“Where the hell did she go?” Kevin asked in amazement. “And there’s no way she
wasn’t
there when I took the picture… what the damn?”

Anthony was sitting drinking his coffee, oblivious to what had just occurred. “What’s going on?” he said, looking back and forth between Kevin, his camera and me. He got up and took the camera from my trembling hands, looked at the screen and let out a low whistle as he looked around the space trying to figure out where the woman who appeared in the picture had gone. Not to mention, where in the world she’d come from in the first place.

“Don’t even ask,” I cautioned Anthony, raising my palm with a halt signal, “I have no idea —”

“You know this woman?” Anthony asked.

“She’s someone I went to for help with my near death dreams and experiences a few months ago. I have no idea how she shows up in this picture… no idea at all.”

Then it hit me. Kevin had actually photographed a ghost on board the ship and now it seems that he had done it again. Well maybe he had, because I wasn’t going to assume, at least yet, that Teresa, Like Doctor Keough, was among the dead, after all, she was into mysticism, and I had seen her in action.

I said, “I’m going to call her and see what’s what.” I was very shaken and started fumbling through my wallet for her number but realized that I had left it in my car, which was back home in New York.

I dialed up my wife who greeted me with, “Hey, I was just going to call you!”

“I was wondering if you were ever going to do that,” I said in response. “I miss you and I need you to do me a favor.” I asked her to go into my car and find Teresa’s number.

“Teresa who?” she asked.

“The medium I went to a few months ago… remember?”

“Oh… I just thought I’d ask. I’m already outside; I’ll be at the car in a sec.”

“You are so jealous,” I quipped.

“You bet, big boy,” she said. “Where would it be, exactly?”

“I think in the console with a bunch of other note papers,” I said.

“I don’t see it. Let me look for it and I’ll call you back.”

“Thanks, Honey,” I said, putting the phone back in my pocket.

Kevin and Anthony sat, both staring at the picture and Teresa. “This is really something,” Anthony said shaking his head in disbelief.

“You don’t know the half of it,” I replied with a sigh.

“I think this amazing. I want more of this; it’s a pinge,” said Kevin.

“And what is a pinge?” Anthony asked.

“It’s a piece of a hinge,” said Kevin with knowing confidence.

“And what qualifies this to be… a… what did you call it, a ‘pinge’, Kevin?” I asked.

“Something a mere mortal would not quite understand my friend,” he said in jest. “Just go with it.”

My phone rang and it was Kate, telling me that she couldn’t find Teresa’s number, but would keep on looking for it. For some reason I couldn’t remember where it was that Teresa lived or even her last name; it was online where I had originally found her but when I went in this time, I couldn’t find Teresa’s name anywhere.

Kate called again later in the day to say that she still could not find Teresa’s number.

* * *

I was back into writing my piece while discussing with Kevin what he was photographing, and if he was tying it to anything yet. As I expected, he was leaps and bounds ahead of me. This was very helpful because his work gave me a path to what had to be expressed clear enough in words to accomplish my mission of description. I didn’t want the Teresa apparition interfering with our work flow.

That night we three went out on cautious foot to explore the desert night under the brilliance of the full moon. Kevin was working with three cameras and I had my trusty laptop blazing away as I tried to capture the visuals and turn them into words to support the process; Anthony had a shotgun, just in case we ran into a bad-natured rattlesnake. We paused at the foot of a mesa that provided excellent framing for some photos and a good place to rest a bit.

“You still seeing signs all over the place?” I asked Kevin.

“Signs are always with us… the trick is to be aware that they’re there,” he answered.

“Anthony asked, “What are you two talking about?”

“Some things that occur and seem to stand out, can be counted as signs or omens,” I said.

“Like the Farmer’s Almanac?” Anthony asked, with a smirk.

“Haven’t heard those words in a while,” mumbled Kevin.

“I’m serious, Anthony. Lots of things can be considered signs and I think that they happen with a lot more frequency than omens. Sometimes with me, it’s the things that just constantly pop into my head which make me think that I could be getting a sign,” I said.

“Like?” asked Anthony.

“Names… friends… phone numbers.”

“Phone numbers? Really?” he asked.

“Yeah, I keep thinking of the first phone number we had when I was a kid in Brooklyn,” I mused.

“I didn’t think they had phones back in those days,” Kevin said like a wiseass.

“You remember that number?” Anthony asked.

“Sure do. Do you remember your service serial number?” I asked him.

“Of course, but that was recen—” He stopped himself.

“Recently? Are you calling me an old man?” I laughed.

“No, no… that’s not what I meant. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m certainly old enough to be called that. Nothing wrong with being old, last time I looked.” I was trying to make a point without making a point.

“What would happen if you called that number, Tell? I mean, today. You ever think of that?” Kevin asked.

“You know, that’s something I’ve actually wondered about. If I took and just dialed it with the area code I wonder too. Hey Anthony, my friend, back in those days we barely had area codes,” I said smiling.

“Go ahead and call,” Kevin said with an encouraging expression on his face. “Go ahead, Tell.”

I looked at the phone and thought for a moment about just how foolish what I was about to do was, but I went ahead and dialed my old number, which I hadn’t done for at least thirty or so years. On the phone I heard a click and the click gave way to a ring-signal and that gave way to another ring-signal. It seemed to be a working line and rang on but there was no answer. Strange, I thought. It must be a working number; but then, why wouldn’t it be?

“No one home, Tell?” asked Kevin.

“Apparently,” I responded.

“You guys are really weird. You know that?” Anthony said with a head shake of disbelief. “Did you really think that number would still have a connection to you?”

“Sure, and why not?” I kidded him. “Now let’s get back to the real world… and our work.” I said, folding the phone closed. “I have great words to put on paper.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

After reviewing Kevin’s photos I continued my writing. Anthony began the task of packing up our mobile camp and Kevin went off on another of his short hikes into the quietude of the desert. But while reviewing Kevin’s latest series of photos I noticed something strange in one of the pictures of the moon looking as though it were balanced atop one of the Superstitions. With it appearing as if it had risen from the mountain it caused a brightness not usually seen at night. There was a contrast causing a clear separation of dark and light, almost as stark as day and night. In the middle of this contrast was a black mass that was very similar to the one I had seen on Teresa’s wall. At first I thought I was imagining things, but after studying it further, it seemed to disappear and was as if it had never been there at all. “Here we go again,” I muttered to myself.

Suddenly, Kevin became engaged in a conversation – or rather, an interrogation — with someone on his mobile phone who was apparently asking him a lot of yes or no questions, as he was responding in terse one syllable answers. It was sobering to see him so upset.

Then Kevin said to whomever it was he was speaking to, “I don’t really give a shit, what you think. You know, by now I’m wondering why I’ve been answering
any
of your questions or why I am even having this conversation with you. Who the hell do you think you are, anyway?” He disconnected the call and slammed the phone into his pocket saying, “Asshole.”

“Kevin?”

He didn’t answer me at first, then he said “yeah,” as he plopped down in the chair across from me letting out a wisp of air. “That was someone who I should not know.”