The Ghosts Of New Orleans (A PARANORMAL RESEARCH AND CONTAINMENT DIVISION (PRCD) CASE FILE) (3 page)

The Humvee was the vehicle of choice for a mission like this.  Eloise
rode in the back and the two Marine Sergeants, lovingly called Bert and Ernie
by Sally, rode in the front. Sergeant David Turner drove and Sergeant Mitch
Anderson rode shotgun, literally.  Turner was about six feet three inches tall
and a muscular 250 pounds.  He had dark hair worn in a regulation crew cut. 
His bright blue eyes were piercing and intelligent.  He was someone you would
want on your team. Anderson was shorter at six feet even.  He was leaner and
tougher than his bulky counterpart. He had reddish-blonde hair that was nearly
shaved off.  You could mistake his quiet demeanor for a lack of intelligence,
but once you saw the depth of his gray eyes, you would know he was merely
watching and waiting.

Eloise was initially surprised at the weapons the Marines were carrying
when they arrived at the base camp.

“Don’t want the unfriendlies to take a shot at you, ma’am,” Sgt. Turner
explained. “We’re here to protect you.”

“I appreciate that, Sergeant,” she replied, feeling more comforted than
normal by the presence of the two men.

“We need to travel south along the highway until we get to the shore,
then the town is about 10 miles to the west,” she explained as she climbed in
the back of the Humvee.

“Ma’am, that area took a direct hit, there’s no one there to save,” said
Turner.

Eloise nodded.  “Thank you, Sergeant.  I still need to go there.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“My family has a place near there,” Sergeant Anderson said. “Hurricane
missed it, ‘cept for a little flooding. Guess we were lucky.”

“Guess you were,” said Eloise, looking out her window.                       

The highway was still littered with the remains of the storm surge. 
Pieces of drywall, doors, furniture and personal effects lay across the road,
in trees and in ditches.  Homes had been pulled off their foundations and lay
drunkenly in yards. All the vegetation was either covered with debris or
flattened from the water.

As they drove, Eloise could tell that the Marines were on constant alert
for looters with guns.  Eloise was on alert for another, more deadly
combatant. 

She knew the area of the country she traveled through was well-known for
phenomena that science could not explain.  Many people in that region held
powers that were not given to them without the ultimate sacrifice – their
eternal souls.  Fighting against something that had no reason to live tended to
give them an advantage.

Once the sun set, the world around them was pitch black and the lights
from the Humvee only illuminated four feet in front of them.  Eloise’s eyes
were drawn to the darkness beyond the road.  She could occasionally catch a
psychic glimpse of a passing soul – but they would have to wait for another
day.  She had a specific assignment for this evening.

As they drew closer to the site, Eloise could feel the darkness
enveloping them.  There was death here – but there was more than death.  Eloise
only hoped that she could complete her assignment quickly.

They pulled the Humvee up to a clear area and unloaded the equipment. Sergeant
Anderson shivered. “Boy, this place sure gives me the creeps. Kinda reminds me
of the family place.”

Eloise looked around at all of the spirits that were wandering aimlessly
through the town.  She could see one standing next to the young Marine.  A
young woman, covered in dirt and debris.  She turned and smiled at the Marine,
batting eyes that no longer held life.

The Marine shivered again, ran his hands up and down his arm and then
glanced around.

“You sure this is the place, ma’am?” he asked.

Eloise nodded. “Yes, Sergeant, this is the place.”

Eloise carried the portable generator to a spot just beyond the
illumination of the head lights.  She turned it on and then plugged in the
synthesizer.  She had recently discovered that spirits were sensitive to
certain wavelengths of sound.  She had studied a variety of music from
classical to rock to determine which sounds pulled the spirits toward her.  The
control panel of the synthesizer was covered with white labels where tracks of
songs had been stored for her research. After experimenting with so many types
of music, she found it interesting that the spirits seemed to respond best to
sounds of nature.

Adjusting the switches, she started the track that held whale songs, adjusted
the speakers and moved a few feet away from the machine.  A high pitched,
lonely sound emanated from their speakers.  The two Marines looked a little
confused – yet they stood ready, assault weapons in hand, and guarded the
circumference of the area.

“I don’t think this is going to draw any of the unfriendlies out, Ma’am,”
Sgt. Turner offered. “Actually, it’s mighty creepy if you ask me.”

Eloise nodded.

“Actually, this is a different kind of mission.  We are looking for
another kind of former occupant of the area.”

“Ma’am?”  asked Sgt. Anderson.

“Sergeant, tonight we are seeking the dead.”

Both Marines visibly gulped, tightened their grips on their weapons and
then nodded. “Yes, ma’ am,” they replied in unison.

Eloise turned from the Marines.  The moon was moving out from behind a
bank of clouds and shining over the area, reflecting off the sandy ground.  The
large uprooted trees and remaining parts of small homes cast eerie shadows
around the clearing.

Focusing, Eloise could see mists in the distance drifting towards her. 
She watched as the mists began to take shape and imitate the forms they had been
when they were alive.  She sighed sadly as she watched mothers with babes in
arms glide towards her, children holding hands with brothers and sisters
cautiously step forward, and men with sadness and despair in their faces joining
them.  She estimated over 300 spirits stood before her, nearly the entire
population of the little town.

She turned to glance at the Marines assigned to watch her back.  They
stood, eyes wide, hands white knuckled on their weapons, staring into the mist
before her. 

Their commanding officer chose well, she thought.  Both of these men are
sensitive to the things beyond this world. “Sergeant Turner, Sergeant Anderson,
are you okay?”

Years of discipline and training surpassed fear and they snapped to
attention, eyes alert and bodies poised for attack.

“Ma’am,” replied Sgt. Turner. “What would you like us to do?”

“Actually Sergeant, you are fine where you are,” Eloise replied. “I
appreciate your help this evening.  Now, it’s going to get a little unusual for
a while.  Just stay where you are and everything will be fine.”

Both Marines nodded their heads and waited.

Eloise turned to the large group before her. She took a deep breath and
then stepped towards them.

“My name is Eloise Parker and I’m from the PRCD,” she began. “I
understand that a terrible thing has happened to your town, your homes and your
families.  I am here to help relocate you.”

A large African-American woman moved toward the front of the group.  “What
the hell you talking about?” she raged, “I ain’t relocating nowhere – this here
is my home and this is where I am going to stay.” 

She folded her arms across her chest and stared defiantly at Eloise.

Eloise took a deep breath.  “Ma’am,” she began, “Could I ask you your
name?”

“Elizabeth, Elizabeth Brown,” she replied.

“Ms. Brown, Elizabeth,” Eloise said, “Are you a church-going woman?”

Elizabeth was insulted.  “Why of course I’m a church going woman,” she
replied, “I’ve been Baptist all my life – like my momma and her momma before
her.”

Eloise nodded.  “I should have known just by looking at you,” Eloise
said, and watched as Elizabeth calmed down a little.

“Of course, you all know that someday you are going to get your final
reward.  Because of your good works and the kindnesses you have shown, someday
you are going to go to Heaven,” Eloise said, “Isn’t that right?”

“Uh-huh,” the crowd responded.

“And that is the ultimate reward, that place... in Heaven, where you can
see your loved ones and where you can bask in the glory of God.”

“Amen,” someone shouted from the crowd.  The others in the crowd joined
in agreeing.

“And when He comes again in glory – what will be the sign?” she asked.

“A light from the sky,” Elizabeth called out, “A light from the sky!”

Eloise smiled and nodded. “Yes, a light from the sky,” she repeated,
“Look around you - can you see that light in the sky now?”

Eloise watched as the spirits before her looked heavenward and turned
around until they were all focused on a particular part of the evening sky.

“Glory be,” Elizabeth whispered, “The time has come.”

“Yes,” Eloise said, “The time has come for all of you.  Follow that light
and go home.”

Elizabeth turned back to Eloise, who could feel the force of the woman’s
spirit.  “Well we ain’t going nowhere without you,” she stated.

Eloise could feel the pull on her body.  She knew that the natural
inclination of any spirit was to go to the light and, with such a large group,
there was always the danger that their combined power would be too much for her
to withstand.

Eloise stepped back and smiled at Elizabeth.  “As much as I want to go with
you, I can’t,” she explained, “There are more people like you who I have to tell
about the light. It’s not my time, Elizabeth. Not yet.”

Elizabeth nodded and smiled. “Lizzy,” she said, “all my closest friends
call me Lizzy.”

Eloise felt a lump in her throat. “Lizzy. Thank you.”

She watched as the group, led by Lizzy, walked down the beach.  Then
slowly, they moved into the sky and circled until it was their turn to enter
through the passageway.  After about ten minutes, all of the spirits had faded
from sight.

She smiled, wiped the trace of a tear from her face and started to turn
when suddenly she couldn’t move.   Although Lizzy’s force had been powerful,
this unseen force was at least ten times more potent.  Eloise understood
immediately, she was being attacked.

Instantly, Eloise remembered her training and started to breathe deeply,
meditate and not allow fear to enter her thoughts.  She could hear the worried
cries of the Marines in the distance, but she couldn’t answer them. She
pictured Andy in her mind – playing on the beach and building a sandcastle. 
She pictured his sweet smile and scattered freckles. She continued to breathe
deeply – in and out, concentrate.  She concentrated on the joy she felt when he
ran up the beach.  The feeling of peace when she knew he was with his
grandparents. The little tracks of his feet in the sand.  Andy building the
sandcastle.  But even as she pictured the sandcastle, Andy’s face melted away
and in its place was the face of the villager on the beach. 

She concentrated on her breathing – in and out, deep and smooth.  The man
was staring out to sea again.  But his eyes were no longer kind. They were
angry and glaring.  And when he turned to her, he was covered with maggots that
crawled in and out of the gaps where his face used to be. His lips were drawn
up in a macabre smile and from them came a sound that caused Eloise’s blood to
run cold.  The same sinister laugh she had heard in her dream.

Eloise gasped aloud and fell to her knees in the sand. The laughter
echoed in her head and fear ran through her body.  The laughter increased in
intensity and Eloise cupped her hands over her ears, trying to block out the
sound.  She could feel she was losing her struggle and fought harder to gain
control. 

She was no longer on the beach in Louisiana.  She was back on the small
island in the Pacific.  The villager had her by the arm and was pulling her
towards the water.  The water was no longer calm, no beautiful sunset awaited
her – the sea was dark and stormy and she knew instinctively if she entered the
water, she would lose her soul. 

She struggled against his pull, grounding her heels into the sand, but
slowly he drew her forward.  She watched in horror as the sea started to rise
and the wave began to move towards them.  She tried to scream, tried to fight –
but he was winning.

A blast of music shot through her mind. She dropped to the ground as she
was instantly released from the evil presence. Opening her eyes, she found
herself staring into two very concerned faces.

“How did you…” she began.

Sergeant Turner smiled sheepishly.

“Well, ma’am, I’m a Mormon boy from Briggs, Idaho.  And I figured if the
Mormon Tabernacle Choir singing the Hallelujah Chorus couldn’t scare away the
devil, I reckoned nothing could.”

Eloise chuckled, too weak to even lift herself up.

“Well, Sergeant, I believe you were right.”

She started to lift herself off the ground, but found that her body
wouldn’t respond. A moment later, Sergeant Anderson was at her side, trying to
lift her up.

“Sergeant Anderson,” she exclaimed in the sternest tone she could muster.
“I will be fine in a moment.”

“Begging your pardon, ma’am, but you just got the sh--, I mean the stuff
kicked out of you by an unfriendly.  I know I don’t understand all that you do,
but I know that it took balls to face a bunch of dead people on a dark beach at
night.  So, if you think me helping you to the Humvee is going make you look
weak or something – you gotta know that me and Sergeant Turner, well we  ain’t
questioning your balls at all, ma’am, not at all.”

Before she could think of how to respond, Sergeant Anderson scooped her
into his brawny arms and carefully placed her in the back of the Humvee. “We’ll
take you back to your base, ma’am,” he said softly. “I think we’ve accomplished
enough tonight.”

She smiled gratefully at him.  “Thank you, Sergeant. That would be great.”

“Ma’am, I want to apologize,” Sergeant Turner said earnestly, looking
over the back of his seat.