Read End of the Road (Ghost Stories Trilogy #1) Online
Authors: E. J. Fechenda
When I woke up later,
Eric and my parents were gone. A doctor stood at the side of my bed looking
down at me. She had thick dark curly hair streaked with white, which brushed
the tops of her shoulders. A hospital identification card was clipped to the
lapel of her lab coat. The white fabric contrasted with her dark olive skin,
very similar to my own. Assuming she was there to check my vitals, I sat up and
adjusted the pillows behind me.
“Am I still alive?” I
joked.
“Yes, miraculously so it seems,”
the doctor answered in a soft voice.
“When can I be released?”
“I don’t know. That’s up
to the attending physician.”
“Well, you’re a doctor
aren’t you?’
“Yes, but an Oncologist.
I saw the news and thought it was a great coincidence you were at this
hospital. I have to talk to you about your experience.”
She sounded almost
frantic and I feared Lieutenant Adams’ orders hadn’t been conveyed enough. Was
this woman a religious nut or a journalist in disguise? The knowledge that she
appeared while I slept unattended didn’t help ease the apprehension I was
feeling.
“Can I see your ID?”
The doctor nodded and
unclipped the plastic card from her jacket. She handed it to me and I compared
the picture to the woman in front of me. Her hair was longer in the photo and
she was younger, but I could tell it was the same person. I checked the name -
Dr. Mariella Sanchez. The card appeared to be official with a holographic image
of the hospital’s logo imprinted on the surface. Satisfied, I gave it back to
her.
“What do you want, Dr.
Sanchez?” I asked her and I admit, my tone wasn’t very pleasant.
She opened her mouth,
hesitated and shut it before trying again. “This is going to sound crazy, which
is why I haven’t told anyone before.”
“So you chose me, a
complete stranger?”
“I think, at least I
hope, you’ll understand once you hear my story.”
“All right, go ahead.
Today has been full of crazy, why not add some more?”
I was not expecting what
she said next.
“My mother died near
where you were rescued. I actually communicated with her ghost there.” she paused
and seemed reluctant to continue as if her story would be too much for me to
handle.
“Go on,” I said.
Dr. Sanchez proceeded to
tell me about her mother, Juanita, and the strange encounter she had with her
close to five years earlier.
“You said there are
others?”
“Yes, they communicated with
me by writing in the dirt. I couldn’t see them, only my mother before she
apparently crossed over, but seeing the stick move mid-air and spell out
answers in the dirt, in response to my questions…well, it was almost too much
to believe.”
“Dr. Sanchez, why didn’t
you tell anyone?”
“Please, call me
Mariella. My Uncle Pedro was there and witnessed it, but he has since passed
on. I told my husband at the time and he wasn’t convinced. Since I’m a doctor,
I didn’t want to put my professional reputation at risk.”
“I can understand that,
it’s the same with being a law enforcement officer.” I took a sip of water from
a small plastic cup on the tray next to my bed. “Mariella, aren’t you curious
who those people are…were?”
She shook her head and
shrugged. “I was, a little bit, but not enough to do anything. I hadn’t
expected to meet my mother’s ghost there and after she had moved on there
really wasn’t a reason for me to go back.”
“Well, I’m sure as hell
curious and I’m going to find out.”
Mariella reached into her
pocket and pulled out a business card; setting it on the table next to my cup.
“Call me if you have any news or any questions. It’s good to be able to share
my experience - validating, you know?”
“Yes, I’m glad I’m not
crazy or the whole thing wasn’t a hallucination.”
She smiled and tucked a
chunk of hair behind her ear. “Good luck with everything,” she said and left
the room, the door whispering shut behind her.
I woke the next morning
feeling a hundred times better. My lungs didn’t rattle when I breathed and the
tightness of the burns on my arms had eased. I stretched and my dad looked over
at me with a smile. The television was on low and he sat in one of the chairs
watching the news. My mom dozed in another chair with one of the coarse
hospital blankets wrapped around her like a shawl. Eric was gone. I had mixed
feelings about his absence and didn’t know what that meant, so I shelved the
response away to process another day.
“Am I yesterday’s news,
Dad?”
“Afraid not, chica. Your
boss was right; the crazies have come out to play.”
“Great.” I watched the
coverage with the volume on low, but it still woke my mom up We watched as
several people attempted to gain access to the spot where my rescue had taken
place. The area was newly scorched and still near the wildfire, yet this didn’t
deter the dedicated. A line of my colleagues fanned out along the highway,
guiding traffic through and forming a human barrier to keep the lanes free. A
group wearing matching black t-shirts, which said “Ghost Trackers” in white,
tried to step over a construction barricade but they were stopped. Other people
were kneeling and bent over in prayer at the side of the road.
“What the hell?” I
whispered and turned the television off. “This is craziness.”
“It sure is. Apparently
every reporter has called the hospital wanting to interview you. Including the
Today Show,” my mom said, her eyebrows arched up and she tipped her head at me
to emphasize the importance, “the Today Show, Elena.”
“I heard you the first
time,” I said, wanting to pull the blanket over my head and hide. “I’m being
released today and I really don’t want to talk to anyone. I can’t explain what
happened.” I didn’t tell my parents or Eric about Mariella’s visit and had
tucked her card in the waistband of my underwear before they returned to my
room the night before.
“Don’t worry, your boss
said he has an escort arranged and they’re taking you out through a side
entrance instead of the front.”
“Say ‘No Comment’ like
they do on T.V,” my mom added suddenly sounding like she was a public relations
manager.
I just wanted to go back
to work and carry on as usual. Not that I wasn’t grateful for being rescued,
but I could do without the attention.
A nurse came in to check
my vitals and I asked her when I’d be discharged. She told me I had to wait for
the attending doctor to sign off on my release.
The doctor showed up two long
hours later and after asking a few routine questions, I was free to go. He left
and a Phoenix police officer came into the room.
“Your escort will be here
momentarily.”
“Thanks.” I waited until
he was outside again before getting out of bed. My mom handed me one of her
embroidered cloth bags and I went into the small bathroom to change. Jeans, a
long sleeved green t-shirt, underwear, and some toiletries were all packed
neatly into the bag. I pulled the items out one by one.
“Will those clothes
work?” my mom called. Her voice muffled by the door.
“Yes, thanks!” Eager to
replace the hospital gown, I pulled the shirt over my head and caught a whiff
of smoke. Remnants of the wildfire still clung to my hair.
I opened the door to see three
of my fellow officers standing by the wall of cabinets across from my bed; Eric
was one them. He stood with Charlie O’Reilly and Dave Thompson.
“You ready, Elena?” he
asked. I nodded and picked up the plastic bag my uniform had been placed in by
the hospital. The smell of smoke coming from the opening was strong and it
tickled my throat, causing me to cough. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m fine. Let’s
go.” There was an unintentional edge to my voice. The officers formed a circle
around me and my parents, like we were the presidential family and they were
Secret Service assigned to our detail. Eric stayed to my immediate left and
took the bag out of my hand. We proceeded down the hall, patients and hospital
staff watched us as we passed. There were six total in our group and we crammed
into one elevator. When the doors opened to the ground floor, instead of
turning right toward the main entrance, we made a left. Minutes later we walked
through the cafeteria, out a side door and into a back driveway used for
deliveries. So far so good; we hadn’t been spotted. Almost as soon as this
thought surfaced, I heard someone shout, “There she is!”
BOB
“Jesus Christ, what the
hell is going on?” I asked the others. We stood underneath the charred remains
of Juanita’s mesquite tree and watching the escalating commotion gather around
us. Instead of combatting a wildfire, the police were trying to hold back a
swarm of religious zealots, paranormal nut jobs and anyone who had spare time
on their hands. I just about bust a gut when I caught a glimpse of a Shaman in
the crowd. His tribal robe and ceremonial head dress were hard to miss.
“Well, Bob, you wanted to
get someone’s attention, remember?” Lawrence said.
“Yeah, but I didn’t do
anything this time.”
“Something is definitely going
on. I’ll be back,” Georgia said and she disappeared. She reappeared at the edge
of the line of people, just past the bright orange barricades. The sun almost
washed her out completely and I had to strain to follow her progress.
***
GEORGIA
Being among so many
people at once was overwhelming and even though I didn’t breathe, I felt
claustrophobic. It had been so long since I had been around a large gathering
like this. In fact, the night I died was the last time. Rage triggered by the
memory of my death, pulsed through me and I shook it off to focus on the
conversations going on around me. I overheard various prayers, which were more
wishes for miracles. I moved past a young woman wearing denim shorts and a tank
top. She shivered as I went by - I saw goose pimples travel up her exposed
arms. She exhaled and her breath came out in a whitish cloud through chattering
teeth. She glanced around with a shocked expression on her narrow face. Interesting,
I thought to myself and continued on. The crowd on the side of the road
separated and I saw a news van. A reporter stood in the shade of the van with a
mirror in her hand. She was applying makeup and securing flyaway hairs. I moved
in closer.
“After this piece I’m
calling it a day,” the reporter said.
“Do you have enough for a
follow up story?” her cameraman asked.
“God, do I ever. Look at
these people. One freaky, unexplainable thing and they come out in droves.”
“What do you think
happened?”
“Are you recording?”
“No.” He flipped a cap
over the lens and moved from behind the camera.
“A woman was carried out
by something not visible to the eye. I think it has to be paranormal. I mean,
I’ve never believed in ghosts, but this evidence is pretty convincing.”
So Frank’s heroic efforts
hadn’t gone unnoticed. What happens next? I thought to myself as I made my way
through the crowd and back to the others.
A shout erupted from near
the barricade and in a flash I was on the other side and next to Bob. “What’s
going on?” I asked.
“Some people have broken
through the barricade. Oh shit, they’re heading towards Juanita’s memorial!” He
vanished and I didn’t hesitate to follow. I reappeared under the branches of
the mesquite tree and didn’t have a chance to prepare for the man who passed
right through me. I sensed his energy and then a strange suction-like sensation
as he exited.
“Hey over here!” he
yelled back to a group of three other guys and two girls. They practically
knocked each over in their haste. Two of them moved through me and joined their
friend who was peering over Bob’s handiwork.
One of the guys bent over
and picked up some of stones, then let them drop to the ground without returning
them to their rightful spot. This pissed me off so I gathered up my energy,
scooped up the rocks and set them back in the holes where they belonged, next
to several glass pieces that had melted into the sand.
“Holy shit! Did you see
that?” a guy in a red t-shirt yelled.
“I’m getting out of
here,” a girl with long, curly brown hair said and tugged on the other girl’s
shirt. They turned to go back to the crowd, but were stopped by a police
officer.
“All of you need to
leave,” the officer said. His voice was deep and commanding. So much so, I
almost started to follow the trespassers. The police offer made sure the group
followed his orders and then walked over to Juanita’s memorial. He examined the
rows of stones then unclipped a device from his belt and held it up in front of
him. A flash lit up the area and that’s when I realized it was a camera.
We, meaning Lawrence,
Frank, Peggy and Bob, formed a semi-circle in front of Juanita’s memorial after
the police officer left. The violation of what we considered sacred ground put
us on the defensive. We stayed and watched the line of people come up to the
barricade only to be denied access.
The reporter I overheard
earlier approached with a cameraman behind her. Another woman, shorter and
older than the reporter, stood next to her. She had thick salt and pepper hair
which blew crazily in the wind. She wore a long, flowing dress that was similar
to the dress I had died wearing and have worn ever since. The reporter pointed
towards us and appeared to be in heavy negotiations with the policeman. With
each shake of the officer’s head, the reporter pulled her skirt up a little bit
until she was showing enough leg to audition as a stripper, something I knew
about. From the angle of the officer’s head, it was obvious he noticed.
I was disappointed, but
not surprised, when the policeman conceded and moved the barricade aside so the
reporter, woman, and cameraman could get through. The reporter flipped her mane
of hair and gave the officer a big smile. He smiled in return, looking almost
dazed, before returning his attention back to the crowd, which had dwindled a
little bit as the afternoon wore on.
The reporter’s heels kept
getting dragged down into the sand and she took unsteady steps towards us. I
couldn’t help but laugh. I glanced over at Peggy and she was laughing too. Bob
was transfixed on the reporter’s legs.
“What are they doing?”
Frank asked Lawrence.
“Who knows. This day has
been full of surprises.”
We watched as the
cameraman, who we learned was named Will when the reporter addressed him, began
filming around Juanita’s memorial before the reporter and other woman came to
stand in front of it. The reporter held a microphone and once Will had counted
down from three, she started speaking.
“This is Heather Williams
reporting live from just off I-17 in Yavapai County, near where yesterday’s
dramatic rescue took place. The sensational video has left millions of people
wondering exactly what happened. I’m here with Sedona psychic, Lucinda
Moonstone, who will hopefully offer some answers.” She stepped to the side and
gestured to Juanita’s memorial. “Lucinda, this appears to be a marker for
someone who has passed on in 1952.”
“Yes, I agree.” Lucinda’s
voice cracked and she coughed once to clear it. “In fact, I believe what was
captured on video yesterday may have something to do with this Juanita who died
here.”
“Are you able to make
contact?” Heather asked.
“I will make an attempt,”
Lucinda said and closed her eyes. She inhaled deeply through her nose and exhaled
loudly out of her mouth. She did this three times while Heather watched; her
microphone poised and ready.
“Bob, here’s the psychic
you wanted,” Lawrence said.
“Yeah, this could be our
moment!”
I shared in the
excitement, but when nothing happened for a few minutes, I started to get
bored. Will shifted from one leg to the other while keeping the camera trained
on the psychic. A sweat stain blossomed at the small of his back, the light
blue fabric transformed to dark.
Lucinda’s deep breathing
stopped and she opened her eyes.
“Oh it’s so sad, so
terrible,” she said in a trembling voice.
“Did you make contact?”
“Yes. Juanita was
murdered here…by her husband.”
We all looked at each
other in confusion. “What is she talking about?” I asked Lawrence.
“I don’t know. But, she’s
definitely wrong about Juanita.”
“She’s making it up,”
Peggy said. “I didn’t even believe in ghosts and I was able to see you before I
died. Now, we’re standing less than ten feet away from this woman and she is
completely unaware.”
“The reporter is eating
it up though,” Frank added and we turned our attention back to Heather who had
moved closer to Lucinda, like a cat eager to pounce on its prey.
“Does Juanita, or her
spirit, know what happened yesterday?”
“Yes, she saved the deputy.”
“And the EMTs?”
“The…who?” Lucinda stammered
and tilted her head sideways.
“Some EMT’s were helped
yesterday too, but they don’t know how. This happened before any cameras were
on the scene. I’m curious if Juanita knows about that?”
“Oh, um, I’ll try to find
out.” Lucinda closed her eyes again and started to hum. This happened for some
time until suddenly the humming stopped and her eyes popped open. “No, she only
helped the policewoman. She doesn’t know about them.”
Frank and Peggy laughed
at this statement. “She’s good at bullshitting,” Peggy said.
“Why don’t we do
something? Like throw a rock at her,” Bob suggested. “Let her know there is
more than one of us.”
“The old girl would
probably crap her pants if she knew we actually existed,” Frank said with a
grin.
“Hold on, hold on!”
Lawrence interjected. “We’ll just create more attention, more chaos and for
what end result? We can’t be saved.”
“Maybe we can,” I said.
“What if we write in the dirt that we want a priest to come? Maybe a priest
will know of some rite to help us.”
Lawrence grew brighter
and his eyes widened. “I hadn’t thought of that!”
The moment he said those
words, Bob thought it was permission and he let a stone fly. It sailed through
the air and landed at Heather’s feet.
None of them noticed. They
were too distracted by the cameraman’s battery suddenly dying and he had to
stop filming. That’s when we discovered a new energy source.