Chapter 6 #2
“The reports said that the rails were taken up; those that weren’t were twisted and bent from the crash. Cleanup crews cleared the wrecked circus cars and hauled away the passenger cars,” Brent reported.
“I imagine the cleanup was rushed, as usual,” Helene replied. “Things get left behind.”
They spread out, staying in sight of one another, walking the stretch of the old railroad line where the crash had occurred. Before long, Brent called to the others from where he stood not far inside the line of trees.
“They didn’t bother clearing all the rail once the line went into the forest.” Travis pointed to the ground where he had kicked away dirt and exposed a rusted section of metal.
“You can still see where the tracks went.” Brent directed their attention to a narrow but unnaturally straight gap. Saplings had grown and grass covered the rails, but the older trees clearly marked the corridor.
“Since they rerouted the line, no one needed this section anymore,” Travis replied. “It might even still belong to the railroad. No one’s been in a hurry to do anything else with it.”
“Being haunted might have something to do with that,” Helene remarked in a dry tone.
Brent kicked at the ground, revealing wooden crossties between the rails.
“Now it makes sense.” He invited the others for a closer look.
“I couldn’t figure out how the rails themselves could be an anchor, because they’re steel, which has a lot of iron in it, and ghosts don’t like iron.
But they also left the wooden crossties, so I guess that was enough. ”
Helene closed her eyes and concentrated. “The ghosts are still attached to the area. That’s nothing new. But they’re angry. I’d almost say in pain, if that were possible. That’s different. And I don’t think it’s natural.”
She began walking along the old rails, intent on the ground. “Take a section and look for something new, something not natural that might have been planted to get the ghosts in an uproar.”
Helene headed away from them. Brent went the other way, while Travis ran ahead to check a section farther down the way.
Brent paid close attention, looking for anywhere the ground looked freshly disturbed. After unearthing a few caches of nuts and pinecones buried by animals, he kicked at a mound and then bent down for a closer look. “Hey, what do you make of this?”
Travis and Helene joined him as Brent gingerly poked at the dirt with a stick to reveal a talisman that looked like it had been made from twigs and sinew.
“Don’t touch it,” Helene warned. “It’s dark magic. Might not be the only thing riling up the ghosts, but I’m sure it’s part of the problem.”
Brent withdrew a small flask of lighter fluid and a lighter. “Would this help?”
“If you can burn it without setting the woods on fire,” she replied. “And be ready, there’s no telling how the ghosts will respond.”
“Although we probably shouldn’t burn it until we do the incantation,” Travis warned.
Deep in the woods, Travis thought he heard the rumble of a lion or a tiger.
He didn’t want to find out how much damage a ghostly big cat could cause.
“On your six,” Helene warned, and Travis turned as several gray ghosts emerged from the trees.
They wore regular clothes for their time periods, not circus garb.
“Behind you,” Helene said, and Travis saw a ghost of a headless man in a conductor’s uniform carrying a lantern.
A ghostly tiger came bounding from the forest. Travis unloaded his shotgun filled with salt rounds, and it disappeared, only to be replaced by a spectral lion.
The temperature dropped, and Travis could see his breath mist. At least a dozen human ghosts shimmered into sight, along with a large bear and another tiger.
Their clothing matched the era of the circus wreck, and Travis guessed their spirits had not followed their remains to burial.
Travis had no intention of letting them get too close.
“Watch out!” Brent warned. “They’re strong enough, even I can see some of them.”
Helene began to chant, but she kept her eyes open and tossed handfuls of salt at any ghosts that came too close.
The bear circled to the right while the tiger went left, two apex predators sizing up their prey, even after death. The angry circus ghosts moved in, cutting off escape. In their recent fights, the human ghosts had been on his side, but these spirits definitely looked hostile.
Brent cocked his shotgun and fired at the bear. It vanished, only to reappear seconds later, even closer. The other ghosts didn’t slow their approach, and shooting the tiger didn’t stop him.
Two of the ghosts wore acrobat costumes, advancing with theatrical handsprings and flips. Three others tossed knives back and forth, never missing. A blood-spattered clown would definitely figure in Travis’s future nightmares, especially when he opened his crimson mouth and breathed out fire.
Brent fired again and again, trying to hold off the ghosts long enough for Helene and Travis to work their banishment. He backed away from the spirits, limited to how far he could retreat by the tiger and the bear who continued to circle them.
“Try to hold them back long enough for us to destroy the talisman,” Travis shouted. That would sever the spirits’ bond to the site of the wreck and stop the haunting.
Helene chanted louder. Travis added his voice to hers in the rite of banishment.
“Look!” Brent pointed to a new ghost who appeared nearly in the middle of the stand-off. He was tall and lanky with dark skin and workman’s clothing from a century past. He held a knife in his left hand and a vodun cross in his right.
Eagle Eye Ike. He came, Travis thought.
Ike raised the cross and planted himself between the lion and the living. His mouth moved, but Travis couldn’t hear Ike’s words, although the ghosts recoiled.
More ghosts appeared along the old rail line, but these wore clothing from a variety of time periods, the spirits of people killed in accidents over the decades. They interposed themselves between the circus specters and the living people.
“Ike bought us time, and the new ghosts are holding back the dangerous spirits,” Travis said. He didn’t know how long their unexpected defenders could hold back the others. “Brent, now!”
“Fire in the hole!” Brent called out as he lit up the talisman. Flames leaped higher than they should have for the amount of fluid he used, hissing and popping, and Travis swore he heard screams.
The tiger roared, and its solid-looking apparition vanished.
So did the lion and the vengeful performers.
The protective ghosts were the last to go, remaining until the threat was gone as if they were unaffected by the burned talisman and left of their own accord.
One of them tipped his fedora to them before winking out of sight.
That left Ike, who also seemed unaffected by the ritual.
“Thank you,” Travis said to the ghost. Brent and Helene added their thanks as well. Ike just smiled, inclined his head in acknowledgment, and vanished.
Travis let out a breath. He looked to Helene and Brent. “Is everyone okay?”
Helene nodded. “A little drained. I was saying protective spells, and I also sent out a psychic call to Ike. I guess you could say that he and I are old friends. He’s come to lend a hand on several occasions.”
Travis turned in a slow circle, searching the area for any sign of remaining ghosts. “Do you think that will send the dangerous ghosts away for good?”
“Guess we wait and see.” Helene replaced several ritual items into her bag.
“It shouldn’t affect the protector spirits.
They choose to stay as guardians, like Ike.
I hope we’ve sent the others on to find peace.
” They waited for half an hour, but nothing stirred.
Travis and Brent walked Helene back to her car.
“Good working with you,” she told them. “Call me if you need anything else. I’m happy to help. I don’t control when Ike shows up, but he’s often on board for a good cause.”
Elated but tired, Travis and Brent headed back to Pittsburgh. By unspoken agreement, they kept the conversation light on the drive and during lunch at a diner they passed on the way.
Travis’s phone rang as they got back into the Crown Vic after their meal. He frowned and swore under his breath.
“Trouble?” Brent asked.
“Sinistram,” Travis replied. “Dominick here,” he said as he answered the phone, using only his last name. He didn’t bother with pleasantries, and his tone made it clear the contact wasn’t welcome.
A cold chuckle on the other side fed Travis’s anger, and he recognized the voice of Father Liam, his Sinistram mentor.
“Dominick. Still the same. Some things never change.”
“What do you want?”
“I’m calling to warn you. The world is changing. The end is near. Return to the Sinistram and you’ll be protected,” Liam said.
“The world is always changing. Warn me about what? Protect me from whom?” Over the years, the Sinistram had tried and failed to entice Travis to return to its authority. Time had just increased his conviction to remain free of their entanglements.
“We’ve been patient,” Father Liam said, and his voice hardened. “That time is over. Return or face the consequences.”
“Fuck you.” Travis ended the call before Liam could reply. Only then did he realize that his hand shook as he held the phone. Just the sound of Father Liam’s voice knotted Travis’s stomach.
“That didn’t sound good,” Brent observed. “Do you need a break? I can drive.”
“I’ll actually process better if I’m driving,” Travis replied. “I’ll just stew if I’m the passenger.”
“Suit yourself. The offer stands.”
Travis headed toward home. Neither man spoke for a while. Brent had to notice that Travis opted for back roads rather than the highway, but he didn’t mention it.
“Dammit,” Travis said after a long pause. “This is so like them, dangling imminent hellfire and damnation, and all you have to do to be saved is fall in line and not ask questions.”