The Seer by Clifford Beck - HTML preview

Chapter 34

 

The following day was tainted with a slight tension as Gordon anticipated his first investigation. But, as quickly as the week began, so too did it end, and Gordon, again, found himself turning onto Tom's driveway. When he arrived, he saw three other cars parked in front of the house, and getting out of his car was, again, met by Tom. They had arranged to meet at seven o' clock, but Gordon arrived a bit early.

“Gordon,” Tom said. “I'm glad you could make it. C'mon in, I'll introduce you to the team.” Gordon wasn't normally a very social person, and walking into a roomful of strangers made him feel anxious, and out of his element.

Walking through the back door, Tom began the introductions.

“Hey, guys,” he said. “This is Gordon. He's joining the team.”

He went around the room, introducing everyone by name.

“Gordon, this is Fraser, our IT guy. This is Steve, and Donna, our field investigators.”

Linda had already made coffee, and was putting out freshly poured mugs for everyone. A map had been laid out on the kitchen table, and as Gordon momentarily studied it, he found it to be a town map of a cemetery. He learned that before every investigation, the team sat down to plan out every detail of the night's activities. Tonight, however, would be different. There would be no monitors, or cable to set up. No microphones, or sensors to arrange. Everyone would be in the field with only their senses to guide them. With the map was also the tools they planned on using, and Gordon was introduced to all of them. Explanations were brief, and by the time they left Gordon was able to use every piece of equipment on the table.

In spite of the subject, Gordon's logical mind shifted to the members of the team, and the more they spoke, the more he learned about them. Donna, for all appearances, seemed to be the kind of person who insisted on being strong and unwavering in her approach to life. It wasn't that she seemed to have a mean streak. She had simply grown an especially thick skin. She quite beautiful, with all the right curves in all the right places. At a glance, Gordon also noticed the absence of a wedding band, and made a reasonable assumption that her rough exterior might be the product of a bad marriage, and perhaps, a difficult divorce.

Steve was the quiet one, but was always quick to learn, and later, Gordon would discover that he had memorized the cemetery map in a surprisingly short amount of time. He appeared to be in his forties, wearing octagonal shaped glasses, and an expression that led Gordon to wonder what dark thoughts might be hiding behind his piercing brown eyes. Later, Gordon learned that Steve wrote short stories, filled with darkness and terror, born from the vault of a troubled life. Fraser, however, seemed trapped by an attitude of superiority, expressing it, not only in the way he carried himself, but also in his resentful glare. Gordon made an educated guess that Fraser was probably quite narcissistic, and his brief observations of Frazer also led him to remain alert for any behavior that could be troublesome.

After organizing their investigation, they got into their cars and left for the cemetery. At Tom's insistence, he and Gordon decided to share a ride, as Tom wanted to talk with him further,

“So,” he began. “You're the psychiatrist, what do you think of the team?”

Gordon expected this question and tried to be evasive.

“Uh, I don't know,” he said. “I haven't really had the chance to talk to them.”

Tom nodded his head.

“Alright,” he replied. “But, what do your instincts tell you?”

Now, Gordon was discovering that he had underestimated Tom, and was finding him to be quite intelligent.

“C'mon, just between the two of us.” Gordon had to choose his words carefully, but diplomacy was part of his job, so a response came easily.

“Well,” he began. “Donna seems a little rough around the edges, doesn't she?”

Tom took a slow breath as he gathered his thoughts.

“Yeah, Donna,” he replied. “She's had a rough life. Just got out of a bad marriage. She had a miscarriage. So, yeah, Donna's put up some walls.”

“So,” Tom continued. “How about Steve?

“Uh...he seems kinda quiet,” Gordon answered.

“Well,” Tom said. “Isn't it the quiet ones you have to look out for?”

“Yeah, sometimes,” Gordon replied.

“Well,” Tom continued. “You might like this. Ya see, Steve's a writer, and he writes some pretty dark things. His last book was called 'The Bastard'. It was about a guy who grew up being pushed around by people. By the time he got older, he started torturing the people who had pissed him off. You might think Steve's kinda quiet, but there's a lot going on in there.”

Gordon realized that the people on Tom's team were quite dynamic, but the only person he didn't want to talk about was Fraser. But once again, Tom insisted.

“I don't know,” Gordon began. “May we should just leave this alone.”

“Gordon, c'mon,” Tom said. “It's just the two of us. So, what do you think?”

There was something Gordon had seen in Fraser that he felt uncomfortable talking about, but again, Tom insisted.

“Well, he's tall,” Gordon began.

“Yeah, he's about six one,” Tom replied. A moment went by as Tom focused on the road. The sky was growing darker as they neared the cemetery.

“Ya' know, he dyes his beard brown. It kinda looks like he might have some gray underneath, though.”

“So, what's his story?” Gordon asked.

“Well,” Tom said. “Fraser used to work in management. He was the director of some kind of agency. Anyway, he got fired because the agency he worked for got sued for liable. Turned out he'd been harassing someone for a couple of months. So, after the state investigated it, they just cut him loose. It ended up on the news, and he hasn't been able to find a job since.”

Gordon took a moment to process this, realizing that those prone to harassing others are generally plagued with an enormous ego.

“So,” Gordon began. “I guess he had a bit of attitude, huh?”

“A bit?” Tom replied. “This guy walks around like he's the best this since herpes. So, yeah, he has a bit of attitude. I'm just not sure how long I can keep him on the team. I try to give people a chance, ya know? I just don't think he wants to listen.”

The cemetery soon came up on their left, and turning in through the first entrance, they met the rest of the team. It was eight o' clock, and the sun was just dipping below the horizon, giving way to a clear, star-strew night.

“And here we are,” Tom said.

They had received special permission to enter the cemetery at night, but soon, a police officer arrived. Stepping out of his car, the officer asked why they were there. Immediately, a brief wave of tension overtook the team as Tom reached into his pocket and retrieved a piece of paper. Handing it to the officer, it was unfolded and examined closely.

“Alright,” the officer said. “Just don't do any damage.” The paper was handed back to Tom as he assured the officer that they would use the utmost care while conducting their investigation. As the officer left, the tension lifted from the group.

“Okay,” Tom began. “Let's get started.” Tom continued as they unpacked their equipment.

“Alright, guys, Gordon, here, is going to be our eyes and ears tonight, so we're going to follow his lead, okay?” Noticeably irritated, Fraser quickly spoke up.

“Excuse me, why?”

Gordon turned to Tom and spoke quietly.

“You didn't tell them?

“I wanted them to find out on their own,” Tom replied. “But, I suppose I should say something.” He turned back to the group and proceeded to tell them about Gordon's ability.

“Hang on,” Donna said.

She was accustomed not only to speaking her mind, but also to being heard.

“You're telling us that Gordo, here, can see ghosts, right?”

At this point, Steve broke into the conversation.

“What do they look like?”

“Uh, they look like anyone else.” Gordon replied.

“So, how do you know the difference?” Fraser asked. As threatened as he seemed to be with Gordon's presence, his question was valid.

“Well,” Gordon began. “They usually appear out of nowhere, and sometimes they tell me they're dead.” Before anyone could comment, Tom spoke up.

“I know what you guys are thinking. This guy must be nuts, but we've worked with psychics before, right? And I guarantee that Gordon, here, isn't nuts.” Turning to Gordon, he asked if he could share a bit of information about him.

“Gordon,” he began. “You want me to tell them what you do, or do you want to?”

He had studied all his life to earn his place, and had few, if any, reservations about what he did for a living, in spite of the fact that most seem threatened by the presence of a psychiatrist, fearing they would, somehow, see into them, peeking into their secrets.

“I'm a psychiatrist,” Gordon said. All eyes opened wide as fear and discomfort made their way to the surface.

“A psychiatrist,” Donna said.

Wanting to keep her convoluted past deeply buried, she seemed to be offended at the idea that Tom would bring a mental health professional. Gordon spoke up, feeling the need to deflate the tension that had almost instantly built up among the team.

“Look,” he began. “I'm not here to analyze anyone, and to be honest, sorting out people's problems is a long, exhausting process, alright? I'm here to figure out what I can do with what I have, and maybe, how to shut it off. You might call it a gift. I'd call it a curse. But, maybe I can do something with it. So, are we all set?” The mood lightened among the team as some felt a twinge of guilt over making the assumption that Gordon was there with a hidden agenda. Fraser, however, still bore a slight expression of hostility, and Gordon realized it would take a great deal of time and effort to gain his trust.

“So,” Steve began.

Although he was the quiet member of the group, he was a very good listener, and knew what to say, and when.

“Do you see any ghosts now?”

Their investigation of the cemetery hadn't gotten underway yet, when Gordon noticed an odd shape moving out from the shadows. Steve repeated his question, only to be interrupted by Tom.

“Wait a second,” he began. “Something's different.” He stepped up to Gordon, and quietly called to him.

“Gordon, what is it?”

Raising a hand, he pointed to the shadows where a small boy had taken shape.

“He's right there,” he said. “And he's walking right toward us.”

Tom motioned Donna over.

“Get the camera,” he said.

She rushed over to Tom's car and retrieved the team's forward looking infrared camera. It was used, specifically for recording heat signatures at night, allowing the team to track moving objects.

Turning the camera on, Donna aimed it in the direction Gordon was looking, as the rest of the team gathered to watch the screen. All of them were stunned to see an irregular shape slowly moving toward the group. Not understanding the nature of the presence closing in on them, Tom called out a warning to Gordon.

“Uh...Gordon, you might want to take a few steps back.”

Gordon turned back, and assured them that the young boy's presence was not a threat.

“He's just a kid,” he said. “It's okay, but you might want to stand back a little. I don't want him getting nervous.”

The team moved back by almost ten feet as Gordon struck up a conversation with the ghost of the young boy.

“So, what's your name?” he asked.

“You can see me?” the boy said.

He was dressed in brown Victorian clothes, with knickers extending to just below the knees. His bare feet, face, and hands were unblemished, not typical of a child from the Victorian era.

“I knew you were here.”

Gordon was puzzled, and wondered how the boy would know him, when they had never met.

“I could feel it,” he continued. “Now, everyone knows you're here.”

Gordon was startled by the boy's claim, and asked if only the two of them could speak, while the others remained silent.

“You haven't told me your name yet,” Gordon said.

“Samuel,” he replied.

“Alright,” Gordon continued. “My name's Gordon.” The team continued to watch Gordon's conversation on the screen of their camera, as the misshapened image remained. Samuel looked over at the group, then back to Gordon.

“Oh,” he began. “They're friends. You don't have to worry.”

Seeing a look of anxiety on his face, Gordon saw it necessary to try to put him at ease, and asked Samuel if he wanted to sit. As he lowered himself to the ground, the team noticed a downward shift of the blurry object on the camera's display, but they remained still and silent, not wanting to disrupt what was taking place. Gordon spoke to the boy again.

“So,” he continued. “What happened to you?” Samuel's voice began to quiver as he answered.

“I heard the doctor and Mama talking. He said it was small pox. I knew it was bad, but I didn't think I was going to die. Then it got dark, and I was here. But, I can't find my Mama. Can you help me find her?” Gordon hesitated in his response as he looked back at Tom.

“His name is Samuel. He died of small pox, and he wants me to help him find his mother.” The team looked to each other for an answer, but even a suggestion could not be found among them. Turning back to the boy, Gordon continued his questions.

“Do you know her name?”

Samuel’s face took on a lost expression as he tried to remember, while Gordon began suggesting several names. Unfortunately, the boy was unable to recall his mother's name, and Gordon was out of ideas.

“Can you help me?” Samuel asked.

Gordon had quickly become invested in helping Samuel, and searching himself, came up with an unusual idea, but one that might work. Sometimes, one can recall repressed memories through hypnosis, and while Gordon did not practice this form of treatment, he did believe it to be effective.

“Okay, Samuel,” he began. “I want you to try something, alright? Just close your eyes and relax.” Samuel sat with closed eyes, doing exactly as he had been instructed.

“Now,” he continued. “I want you to see your mama's face in your head.”

Samuel concentrated until the memory of his mother exploded from deep within his mind. The clearer he saw it, the better he appeared to feel. Now, Tom and the rest of the team, still looking at the screen of their camera, saw something else, something small and distant.

“Hey, Gordon,” Tom said.

Gordon glanced back over his shoulder.

“There's something else here.”

“Where?” Gordon replied.

Again, they looked at the screen, and saw the misty object moving towards them from the woods.

“Looks like it's about fifty feet into the woods, right in front of you.”

Suddenly, Samuel's mood changed as a smile came to his face.

“What is it?” Gordon asked.

At that moment, a young woman stepped out through the trees, and feeling her presence, Samuel turned and ran toward her, his voice screeching with excitement.

“Mama!”

They met at the treeline in a reunion that seemed to be an eternity in the making, and taking her hand, Samuel pulled her back toward Gordon, telling her how he'd helped unite them. The woman thanked him, but Gordon was quick to exercise his humility, telling her that it was Samuel who had accomplished this. Both mother and son smiled warmly, turned, and faded away as they walked to the treeline.

Getting up from the ground, Gordon walked back to the team with an excited expression.

“What did that look like on camera?” he asked. Every second had been recorded, and as the team stared hypnotically at the screen, Gordon pointed out each consistency between the video playback and his experience with Samuel. Tom looked up from the display, turning his attention to Gordon.

“So, what happened?” he asked.

The camera allowed them to see their blurry, irregular shapes, but it was no substitute for what Gordon could see.

“His mother showed up,” he replied. “I think all he needed to do was think about her enough, and she was drawn to him.”

Donna's eye went from the camera to him, and through her rough, protective exterior came a smile and a nod.

“Gordo,” she began. “You make a good addition to this team.”

Everyone was both pleased and excited to see, first hand, how Gordon was contributing to the team's efforts. Everyone, but Fraser, who, with a muted expression of anger, turned and walked away. This reaction was not new for him. He seemed to be jealous of anyone who made even the smallest accomplishments, or possessed a talent he lacked. Tom felt that his attitude and behavior was holding the team back, but he was willing to give Fraser a chance. The issue now was whether he had given too many chances.

As Fraser walked way, Tom turned to call him back.

“Wait,” Gordon interrupted. “Let me talk to him.”

“Are you sure?” Tom asked.

The last thing he wanted was a confrontation, but among Gordon's many skills as a psychiatrist was the ability to disarm tense situations.

“I'll be right back.”

He followed Fraser into the darkness, and finding him sitting on a gravestone, sat on the one next to him.

“Fraser,” he began. “Look, I'm not here to make you look bad, alright? I can't even explain to myself why I'm here.”

Fraser continued to be immersed in seething anger, closing himself off from nearly everything Gordon was saying.

“And as far as what I can do, I can do without it.” With those words, Fraser had gone from shutting him out to quietly listening.

“Why is that?” he asked.

Fraser’s life had been focused on his need for power, and exercising his will over others. Now, his insecurities had begun to show through his angry facade, and Gordon felt it necessary to take advantage of it, in hopes of making a connection.

“Because I don't see them the way you might think. They look like anyone else, but they usually say something that tells me they're dead. And I can't shut it off. They seem to be drawn to me like a magnet.” So far, nothing Gordon said made a difference, and Fraser continued in his silent tantrum.

“At first, I thought I was losing my mind. My own therapist sent me to a neurologist, thinking I might have a growth in my brain. I guess I wished there might be something wrong. At least, they could have fixed it, maybe.”

After only a few minutes of largely one-sided conversation, Gordon left Fraser sitting in the dark, hoping his words were heard, and that maybe, they would, at some point, strike up, at least, a casual conversation.

Tom was growing impatient, and upon Gordon's return, called out to Fraser, urging him to rejoin the team. They had arrived at the cemetery no more than an hour ago, and there was still a lot of ground to cover.

Fraser appeared out of darkness, still quiet and preoccupied. Tom, like the others, noticed that his attitude had not changed, but there was work to be done, and the team, for the time being, tried to overlook it.

The plan, as well as the map, was reviewed again, and in a sudden of plans, Tom split the team into two groups. He wanted Gordon to get some experience with other team members, and paired him off with Donna. Gordon's initial impression of her was that she was heavily insulated by the harshness of her circumstances, but during the night's investigation, he would discover her softer side. However, there was the need to be professional, and Gordon found it easy to slip into that role.

Moving away from the rest of the team, Gordon and Donna followed the roads through the cemetery, avoiding the risky walk through the gravestones. In the moonless night, one could easily trip over a gravestone, land on another, and become seriously injured. As they quietly walked the cemetery roads, they gave occasional updates to the other half of the team by radio. It was important for each group to know where the other was, in case of some emergency. The only other tool being carried, besides a flashlight, was a simple, off the shelf camcorder, with a weak infrared bulb. But with two infrared flashlights, attached to it, it had a much broader range.

Five minutes into their walk, Donna stopped and asked Gordon if he could see anything.

“I need a flashlight,” he replied.

“You need a flashlight to see ghosts?” Donna asked. Gordon brought his flashlight, and turning it on, began searching among the surrounding graves.

“Yeah,” he replied. “It sounds ridiculous, doesn't it?” Focusing on one area, Gordon asked Donna to train her camera on a spot near the road.

“Holy shit,” she began.

She reacted with astonishment at what it had revealed.

“Gordo,” she continued. “What it that?” The camera display showed a white streak, originating from the place Gordon had pointed out. It moved and arched across the display, but Gordon saw something completely different. What stood in front of them was the form of a woman, appearing in her early thirties.

“Wait right here,” he said. “And keep the camera aimed right there.”

Walking toward the woman, he noticed that she was drenched in what smelled like ocean water, but she left no trail, and nothing on the ground beneath her.

“Hello,” he began. “I'm Gordon. What's your name?” She was close to tears, but managed to speak.

“Grace,” she replied.

As with anyone in crisis, he used a calm, supportive tone, hoping to put her at ease. But, Grace seemed to be caught in a moment of trauma, and no amount of good intentions could bring her out.

“What happened? Why are you covered in water?” Had she been flesh and blood, Gordon could have thrown a blanket around her shoulders, and taken her to the hospital. Yet, in the ghostly world of the afterlife, reality is created as an extension of one's earthly life, but the rules of existence changed. In truth, the only reason Grace was cold and drenched was because she believed she was, and it was this invented reality that had been hardened by the trauma of her demise.

Her breathing quickened as she recounted the last few minutes of her life.

“I never saw it,” she began. “It was so dark.” Gordon's curiosity, as well as his concern, peaked as he gently pressed her for more information.

“What didn't you see?”

Her recollection of events was brief, and shaken by terror, guilt, and grief.

Stuttering from the cold, Grace told Gordon of the outing she'd taken one day along the coast. She had decided to show her six-year-old son some of Maine's rocky coast, and having planned out the entire day, Grace drove to Bailey Island with him. They sat in the rocks, watching the churning waves, throwing pieces of bread to the seagulls. She did not expect to be there as long as they were, and without realizing the passage of time, Grace was caught off guard by the coming night. As she put her son back into the car, Grace noticed a light sprinkle dotting the roof and windows. She turned to look at the sky, and was quickly frightened by the billowing clouds of an approaching storm. Her first concern was, of course, for the safety of her son. But, as she started back toward the mainland, the angry clouds released a blinding downpour. The car's windshield wipers proved useless in their attempt to show her the way back to the main roads.

From the island up to the county highway, the roads were largely dirt, and the rain was quickly turning them to mud. Grace cold not drive fast enough, and had become panicked to the point of inadvertently lapsing in her sense of caution. Within that moment, her car slid off the muddy road tumbled over the guard rail, and into the water. On any other day, the ocean was calm, the water just below the rails, nothing more than slightly surging pools and eddies. But with the weight of the storm, the waves rose up, crashing onto the rocks and roads, flooding all means of escape.

Grace had been rendered unconscious as her car's roof impacted with the water, and with her son still strapped into his car seat, the surging waves quickly dragging them out to sea. The next day, a missing person’s report was filed by her husband, and after a thorough search by helicopter, the car was found. Divers were sent to retrieve the bodies of Grace and her son, but her son had swept away, out into deeper water, to be consumed by the creatures of the ocean. Grace could not move on, and sometime after her death, the gray shadow of her former self was seen near her grave, as she searched for the burial place of her son. In a deep state of grief, guilt, and pain, Grace continued her search for the soul of her son, perhaps, believing he would also be near his own grave. But, her grief and suffering would know no closure nor boundaries, as she continued to wander the cemetery draped in the ocean water that had taken her life.

Now, in her desperation, Grace came to Gordon, drawn to him by the same thing that drew the others. Gordon had become a beacon for the troubled dead, a flesh and blood conduit of communication, and a means of help and resolution. Even though he had never considered it, Gordon had become a savior to the dead, and once again, he was needed as Grace stood in front of him, reaching out in desperation. Her story was brief, and her emotional outpouring brought tears to Gordon's eyes.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “I'm not sure how I can help you.” Just then, Donna spoke quietly from behind him.

“Gordo,” she began. “What's going on?” Gordon briefly turned back and gave her a quick update, as she continued staring, in amazement, at her camera's display. Turning back to Grace, Gordon 's heart sank when he found her sitting on the ground with her knees pulled up to her chest.

“There has to be something,” he thought. It was at that moment he realized that he was not searching for the dead. They were searching for him. All he needed to do was to allow them to make a connection.

“Can I come closer?” he asked.

While still in her eternal grief, Grace nodded her head. Where people in crisis are concerned, trust is always an issue, and is always earned, even, apparently, amongst the dead.

Still at a loss for a solution, Gordon sat facing her as she continued pouring out her sorrow. His instincts began to guide a hand to her shoulder when he had to remind himself that she lacked the substance of living flesh. But, is was at that moment that a faint, yet familiar sound crept out from the darkness of the cemetery.

“Gordo,” Donna called. “Did you hear that?” Grace stopped in her tearfulness and raised her head.

“I think all of us heard it,” Gordon replied. As the sound grew louder, it became obvious that they were hearing the sound of a crying child. Gordon rose to his feet as Grace got up from the ground. The crying that echoed across the field of gravestones was more than a familiar sound, and she had not heard it for what seemed like an eternity. Also hearing it, Donna momentarily raised her eyes from the camera's display and scanned their surroundings, noticing a pinpoint of light drifting towards them through the trees.

“Gordo,” she said. “We got company.” Both Gordon and Grace turned to search the cemetery, and seeing it drawing nearer, Grace suddenly became ecstatic. What had first been a tiny point, had become a brilliant, cloudy mass of ethereal light that would shortly lure in the rest of the team.

Now, the light hovered over Grace's head as her emotions rose beyond ecstatic. She couldn't see within it, but she could feel its presence, and knew the sound of her son's voice. Donna was forced to step back to record a wider view, but kept her camera trained on the fuzzy shape, growing progressively brighter.

“Gordo,” she called.

Out of habit, she still spoke in a whisper. However, Gordon was so involved in what was becoming a dramatic reunion, that Donna's words went unheard.

Realizing that the spirit of her son had come for her, Grace turned and leapt toward Gordon. There was no time to run, and he barely had time to brace himself for something he had not expected. Donna, seeing what she believed to be an impending attack, yelled out to him.

“Gordo, run!”

In less time than it took for her to express her panic, Gordon found himself being gratefully embraced, as Grace prepared herself to be reunited with her son.

“Thank you so much!” she said. “I knew you could do it!”

She stood back and allowed the light to drift down, enveloping her in its hazy brilliance. As it consumed her, the light exploded across the cemetery with a dull thud, sending a shock wave along the ground that could be felt for miles, and would be reported the next day by the media as a possible astronomical event. Although, police would be called to investigate the possibility of fireworks.

Gordon had been knocked over, but as he got up, recovered his senses enough that he would be able to recall the events that led to him to be sitting on the ground. Soon, the rest of the team arrived to investigate. Tom was the first to approach the scene.

“What happened?” he asked.

Donna lowered her camera and walked toward the team.

“I think Gordo got his ass kicked,” she replied. With his head still spinning, Gordon managed to piece together an explanation.

“Not really,” he began. “But I feel like I did.” Soon, the sound of sirens could be heard in the distance, prompting the team to quickly return to their vehicles. They drove out of the cemetery through the nearest exit just minutes before the appearance of the blue flashing lights of police cruisers.