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

  “You are English, yes?” he asked quietly, his eyes never leaving the horizon.

  Eloise nodded, “Yes, yes I am English. American.”

  The eye that she could see seemed kindly, the dark brown depths surrounded by well-earned wrinkles.

  “You come to help us?”

  “Yes, I hope to help,” she answered, “I hope to bring you peace.”

  He shook his head sadly. “No peace, no peace for my home.”

  “Where is your home?” Eloise insisted, “I could help…”

  Then he turned to her and she gasped involuntarily. The side of his face that had been hidden from her view was missing. Only a gaping hole remained where it should have been.

  “I have no home. I sleep in the waters,” he shook his head sadly once again and faded from her sight.

  The audio on her meter was silenced.

  “If only he had faith,” she whispered as she started her engine, put the SUV into reverse and drove away.

  Chapter Two

  Strains of Sarah McLachlan’s “I Will Remember You,” poured out of the mobile headquarters of the PRCD when Eloise opened the door. The refurbished top-of-the-line motor home interior was dark, the only light coming from the various instruments stacked on shelving on either side of the home. Because they needed sleeping quarters for three and a bathroom area, the office/lab space was condensed into a small 8 x 8 foot space. However, every inch, from floor to ceiling had been utilized with the most high-tech equipment available.

  Sally Dawson, the agency research guru, sat crossed-legged in an office chair leaning forward into the blue light emanating from her computer. Her spiked black hair with fuchsia highlights almost glowed in the light. Her black t-shirt and black jeans nearly made her body disappear into the confines of the black leather chair. As Eloise watched, Sally blindly reached over to her tissue box, pulled out a tissue, blotted her eyes and blew her nose.

  Eloise hurried to the desk.

  “Sal, what’s wrong?”

  Sally looked up, a line of black mascara running down her cheek, and she pointed wordlessly to the screen. Eloise turned her attention to the screen where photos of dogs abandoned during the flooding flashed onto the screen in time to Sarah’s melodic voice.

  “Isn’t that the saddest thing you have ever seen?” Sally asked with a sob.

  Instantly Eloise’s mind went back to the picture of Andy’s mother crumpling in sorrow at her doorway. She shook her head to clear it of the memory.

  “Yeah, Sal, it sure is.”

  Sally blew her nose once more and then really looked at Eloise.

  “You look beat,” she said, as she clicked her mouse to close the site with the dog photos, “You okay?”

  Eloise shrugged. “Yeah, rough day at the office,” she smirked.

  She dropped her shoulder harness and backpack on the empty desk next to Sally and then laid a manila envelope on a stack of more envelopes.

  Sally looked at the envelope and then at Eloise.

  “Did he resist?”

  Eloise sighed, fought for the sadness to remain below the surface and then said calmly, “No, he was fine. He was good. He had family waiting.”

  Sally grinned.

  “Then it’s okay.”

  Eloise nodded, thinking back to the poor woman whose life would never be the same.

  “Yeah, it was okay. So, any messages for me?” she asked, changing the subject.

  Sally nodded and reached for a pile of printouts in an inbox next to the computer.

  “Mostly it’s the usual stuff – memos from headquarters,” Sally said, reading the titles of the memos. “Expenditures, reimbursements, increases, health insurance information, annual reviews. Do you want any of this stuff?”

  Eloise grimaced. “Can you file it for now?” she asked.

  Sally smiled, nodded and dumped the pile in the garbage.

  Eloise was startled. “Really, I wanted you to file it,” she said.

  “Not to worry, this is the government we work for; we’ll be getting several copies of these.”

  Eloise smiled. She had a point. “So anything else?”

  “Oh, yeah, I almost forgot,” Sally said, “Local enforcement agencies have us on their fax list; we’ve been getting some missing persons bulletins.”

  “I’m amazed they have faxing ability,” Eloise said, knowing that most local law enforcement agencies were working out of makeshift headquarters with little or no communication capacity.

  “Check the fax addresses,” Sally responded, “Some are from hotels and other businesses, some are from home faxes – these guys are really doing the best they can under pretty extreme circumstances.”

  She handed Eloise a half-dozen pages. Eloise scanned them.

  “They’ve all been missing since the hurricane?” she asked.

  Sally nodded. “In a couple of cases the person had taken the family car back to retrieve some of their belongings. They find the car – but can’t find the person.”

  “They look to be all about the same age,” Eloise said.

  “Yeah, all young, pretty and missing,” Sally said, “Doesn’t sound good to me.”

  “There are all kinds of scary things roaming around out there,” Eloise said.

  “Yeah, and most of them have nothing to do with the supernatural,” Sally agreed, “Speaking of which, you are scheduled for a rendezvous with Bert and Ernie this evening. There’s a small coastal town that was completely lost and they need you to put things in order.”

  “I don’t think those two Marines would appreciate you calling them Bert and Ernie,” Eloise said.

  Sally chuckled. “Well, as long as you don’t tell and I won’t tell – they’ll never have to know.”

  Eloise nodded and then yawned. She looked at the clock, it was nearly six p.m.. “Okay – then I’m going to catch a nap before I have to go out. When are they coming?”

  “Something hundred hours - I think in real language it was 8 p.m.,” Sally said, turning back to the computer screen, “You nap; I’ll wake you up in plenty of time.”

  Eloise moved back through the narrow hallway to her 6 x 8 foot sleeping space. She had a twin sized bed, a small dresser, a tiny closet and a small folding table for her personal effects. She unclipped her cell phone from her belt, slipped off her shoes and stretched out on the bed.

  She purposely did not allow herself to dwell on this afternoon’s encounter with Andy. Past experience had taught her that sleep would evade her if she thought about it all. Instead, she pictured herself driving through the countryside of her hometown, Platteville, Wisconsin. It was September and she knew that the leaves would have started to turn. She could almost feel the cool breezes and smell the apples ripening on the trees. As her mind drifted and her body relaxed, she moved into a dream.

  She was driving down the country roads, north, towards her favorite spot in the Kickapoo Valley. The road was black and smooth. The small towns seemed to blur into each other as she drove by. Occasionally she would see a favorite restaurant or shop – but she noted that the doors were closed and the windows boarded over.

  She came to the bridge that marked the entry to the Kickapoo Valley. The sand-bottomed river below the bridge was usually wide and shallow, and so clear that you could see the white sand floor. However, this time as Eloise drove over the bridge, the river was swollen and dirty.

  Looking further upstream, Eloise saw a large wave heading toward the bridge. As the muddy wave churned closer, she could see large tree limbs and debris caught within the powerful surge.

  Panicked, Eloise turned the car around and punched the gas pedal for speed. At first the car did not respond. Eloise glanced back to the wave. Now, in the midst of the dark waters she could see faces, angry faces calling out to her.

  Mesmerized, she watched as the wave came closer. Finally, almost too late, she realized the danger. Determined, she punched the accelerator once again and the car responded. As the front tires reached the shore, she
could feel the moorings of the bridge shake. All four tires reached safety moments before the bridge was swept downstream with the force of the wave.

  Eloise continued down the road – her formerly pleasant surroundings now taking on a nightmarish quality. She found herself driving through the canyon-like base of the valley. Tall pines and oaks, once resplendent in red, orange and gold leaves were now charred and black, their skeletal limbs reaching out towards the road.

  Blue skies were now grey and churning, and the sun couldn’t penetrate the insidious darkness. Rolling hills and sparkling limestone bluffs were shadowed and dark, silhouetted against the grey of the sky.

  She sensed danger all around, but knew that she could not turn back.

  The road twisted and Eloise drove further into the hills. Trees on either side of the road entwined, creating a tunnel of sharp branches and thick brush. She could hear them scraping against the sides of her car.

  She looked to the side and saw shadowed shapes of men and women in the bark and branches of the trees. Then the branches transformed into hundreds of arms, reaching out, grabbing for her.

  She held firmly to the steering wheel, pushing forward, trying to get out of this hell. She glanced at the faces and saw death, but not the natural death that she was used to dealing with. These were the faces of those trapped in eternal torment, caught between this world and the next. And though they reached out, she knew that she couldn’t help them.

  Suddenly, the roots of the trees were no longer earth-bound. The trees moved forward, onto the road. The branches, now arms of rotted flesh, grabbed for her. With a powerful swing, one arm broke the side window. Eloise screamed as she swerved the car away from the searching arm. The glass crashed behind her as the back windows were destroyed and more arms reached in. Eloise swerved back and forth on the road, increasing her speed, trying to keep the hands from touching her. Ahead she saw a glimmer of light – focused on the light and pressed the accelerator to the floor.

  Bursting from the darkness, the car dove over the edge of a tall bluff. Eloise screamed as she plummeted downwards. She could see the dark waters of the raging river waiting for her. She screamed again, burying her head in her arms as her car spun down towards the river. As she waited for impact, the sounds of the rushing river changed to a deep-throated laugh, at once triumphant and evil. She knew that she was lost.

  Eloise awoke with a start. She sat up in her bed, her cotton blouse sticking to her sweat-covered body, her breath coming in gasps. She pushed her hair out of her face and quickly glanced around the room, taking a few moments to get her bearings. She looked at the clock, she had only been sleeping for an hour, but it had felt like an eternity.

  She could still hear the tremor of the laugh echoing in her mind. She slipped her legs over the bed, resting her head in her hands for a few moments, willing her mind to clear, to focus. Knowing if she wasn’t focused when she went out that evening, she was not only endangering herself, but also the others who accompanied her.

  The knock on her door jarred her.

  “Hey, sleepyhead,” Sally taunted, through the door, “It’s almost dark, you gonna sleep through the night?”

  Eloise shook her head. “I’m going to take a quick shower – I’ll be ready in 20 minutes.”

  “Great. I’ll put together some chow.”

  Eloise grimaced, glad that Sally was on the other side of the door and couldn’t see her face. Sally’s idea of chow was granola, nuts and dried fruit. Her only other choice was an MRE and she was getting tired of a constant diet of pre-packaged, dehydrated food. Wisconsin-raised Eloise saw nothing wrong with a thick steak, a baked potato and a hearty salad. Unfortunately, in the flood-destroyed towns along the Gulf Coast, she wasn’t going to be enjoying a steak for some time. Shrugging her shoulders, she stood and headed for the shower. Oh well, she could always drink a protein shake, at least those were chocolate.

  Chapter Three

  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 experiment
ing 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.