Bear Creek River

The street outside Justin's home was quiet and dark; the atmosphere heavy, muddy, thick. I don't know why I returned, maybe for answers, maybe for familiarity.

A full moon illuminated the rope swing hanging from a rugged oak in the front yard. I remembered the first time I saw it. Justin was showing off, bragging about how he could climb the rope and hang from the branch above. Allison was there, the reason for Justin’s theatrics. He slipped, allegedly leaving a nasty sprain in his wrist. Allison rushed to his aid. I felt jealousy, wanting her closeness for myself, bitter for not coming up with the spectacle even though I knew it was wrong. I later learned Justin faked the injury to milk Allison's affections, wearing a brace for a month afterward, my first insight into who Justin really was.

I floated down the long narrow sidewalk up to the front porch. One light was out giving the home a neglected feel. I passed through the front door, ascending the stairs to his bedroom. The door was shut, something Justin never did, never passing on the opportunity to let someone in for a chat. Something felt off as I entered the room. I froze. Justin was sitting on the edge of his bed holding a small handgun.

"Justin, no!" I shouted as if he could hear me. He sat mesmerized, staring into the gun's barrel, passing it from one hand to the other. Justin was in a dark place, so dark his mind was sheathed in black smoke, leaving me straining to see his thoughts. A combination of deep remorse and fear flowed from Justin's aura. Remorse is good, it meant he could be reached. Fear is a nightmare. People hide from fear, run from it. Only true heroes dare to face down fear and confront it head on. Something neither Justin nor I knew anything about. The only thing Justin faced was the barrel of a gun. He was running, something I knew well.

I stretched my hand to reach for the gun but froze solid. Panic took a hold on my nerves, my old acquaintance. I'd always known an extreme fear of guns. I stepped back and breathed deep, concentrating all thought towards stopping Justin from going through with it. Colored energy flowed from my mind and heart into Justin's spiritual aura. Green is the color of healing. A bright green hue formed around Justin's spiritual body but could not penetrate. I focused harder, prayed longer, until the room glowed bright green. Only a thin black layer blocked the light from entering Justin, from saving him. Fear was the blackness surrounding him. He simply couldn't let go as he raised the gun to his head. I fell face first on the ground unable to watch what was coming. A Mack truck couldn't have hit as hard as I hit that floor. Even as a spirit it jolted my core.

***

The murder of Mr. Chase was never solved and the police had no leads. No one knew Corbin and Justin were conducting a paranormal investigation of his house the night he was murdered. Corbin needed to finance his research. What better way than hit up the richest man in town. Mr. Chase was a prominent business man in the state, very straight and narrow, one of the few in Millersville. Owning a chain of outdoor sporting goods stores, he'd done quite well for himself.

Mr. Chase wanted desperately to cling to his sterling reputation, his livelihood depended on it. If word got out that he feared the running's of the imagination, believed in ghosts, he would be just like the rest of the Outsiders and the sporting community would shun him. Mr. Chase didn't even want his family to know he feared the paranormal. In reality, he had nothing to fear. Justin, under the direction of Corbin, faked the haunting.

A phantom dancing after midnight, Justin pranced around the Chase home, leaving lights on and moving objects from their intended resting place, making sure the phenomenon happened only to Mr. Chase. It's not uncommon. Fortune tellers and circus folk have been staging parlor tricks for centuries to drum up a little business when times got hard.

Mr. Chase arranged for his wife and children to be out of town the week of the investigation. No one had a clue. Suspicion rose after Mr. Chase turned up missing the same weekend his wife and children were out of town. The police initially believed he simply disappeared and didn't want to be found. A man with as much money as Mr. Chase could pull it off. The only wrinkle was that his portfolio remained intact, not a penny was missing.

Rumors floated around town that his wife had him killed so she could cash in. There was never any evidence against her, why would there be, the case remains open.

Justin hated himself for what he did and what happened to Monika and myself. He hated Corbin even more. It shouldn't have shocked me like it did when the room went silent. I opened my eyes to see Justin's journal lying on his bedroom floor, expecting Justin's spirit to be standing next to it but instead found nothing. The last journal entry gave a confession to Mr. Chase's murder, Corbin's death, and his own.

I bolted out of Justin's house in time to catch him pulling out of his driveway, heading to confront Corbin. "Justin! Trust me, revenge will backfire, it always does." I screamed to an unresponsive zombie as I entered the car, eyes glazed over, his mind in a far darker reality than my own. Needing a miracle, I jammed my finger into the dash of his car, interrupting the radio signal, causing a wave of static to come across and the dashboard lights to flicker. Justin slapped the dash hard with his right hand, knocking my finger out of the electrical box.

I crawled into the engine. You know how people blame gremlins when things go bad? They're partially right, but it's not gremlins, its desperate spirits trying to get the attention of humans too blind to see their own self-destruction.

I pulled hard on every hose, nut, and bolt in that engine, nothing worked. I felt my spirit body become moist and warm, panic. Gateway was less than five miles away. Justin would be there soon.

A flash of blinding light appeared next to me. "Not a car guy huh, William." It was John. "Neither am I. More of a donkey man but I've learned a few tricks over the years." John reached his hand down, grabbing hold of the ignition coil. He took his left hand and directed the electricity away from the coil and into the ground, causing Justin's car to stall.

"What the hell!" I heard from the driver's seat as Justin pulled over to the shoulder. He got out and looked under the hood, unable to find anything wrong.

"We're not allowed to directly interfere with a person's free will, but can on occasion manipulate a person's environment.” John said.

Justin pulled out a cell phone and called a tow truck. Part of him seemed relieved which told me he wanted help. He just didn't know how to get it.

“This is a temporary fix, William. Justin needs further intervention to be swayed from the destructive path he’s currently on. It's only a matter of time before he tries again."

"How long?" I asked.

"That I can't say. We cannot predict the future." John said.

John and I stood beside Justin on that dark highway as the tow truck lights grew brighter. His body shook and his mind raced with scrambled thought.

"How can I help him?" I asked.

"Right now, in his current state, you can't. He needs rest. Rest is always the first component of mental clarity. His mind will settle by morning."

"What then?" I asked.

"Communication."

"I've tried. It didn't work. He couldn't hear a word I tried to tell him."

"You're not strong enough to create a full manifestation like I did when we met at your school, but you can communicate. We just need a medium." John said.

I looked at John with that look you get when the light bulb goes off. John looked back at me, intuitively knowing what I was going to suggest, his face pale.

"Corbin."

***

The idea was repulsive, but when your back is pinned desperation sets in, and desperation is a breeding ground for creativity. I left Justin's bedside the next day after his mind had stabilized and followed Corbin into his house, trailing him throughout the home, creating subtle cold spots around the residence. Corbin was adept at noticing the paranormal. It didn't take long for him to realize he wasn't alone.

"Who's there? Tell me your name? What do you want?" he asked, I pushed hard against the closet door. It rattled slightly, Corbin was not easily shaken.

"You're not going to scare me. I've dealt with your kind before. In fact, I've dealt with far worse." Corbin spoke into the air. "I'm going to continue on with my business. I don't care if you're here or not."

Corbin entered his bathroom and turned on the shower. I snuck in, waiting for the bathroom to steam up before taking my finger and tracing the word revenge into the steamed mirror.

Corbin got out of the shower and dried off. His body startled when he saw the mirror. I could see his mind scanning a list of names whom he'd wronged. William Stark stuck hard into his brain. I made sure of it.

"Will." Corbin smiled. "Is that you causing all this mischief? I bet you're pissed huh? I get it, but come on man. You against me … you're not winning that one." He said, pulling a voice recorder from his desk drawer. I caused the red recording light to flash three times, getting his attention.

"Ouija." I spoke into the recorder, wanting a tool to make sure the communication was clear as could be.

"So you want to chat. Well then, let's chat." Corbin got a spirit board and sat down. I sat across from him, placing my hands on the planchette.

"Are you angry?" Corbin asked. I moved the planchette to the word no, half in denial. "Then why are you here?" I spelled the name, Justin.

"Justin, what about him, you want something from him?"

Communicate.

"You want me to tell him something?" Corbin asked.

Yes.

"What?," Corbin asked.

Medium. U.

"You want me to act as a medium for you to speak to Justin." Corbin said.

Yes.

I took my hands off the board. Corbin stood up and walked around the room. "Tomorrow night. He'll be at Gateway. You be there too. Now get the hell out!"

***

The next evening I waited inside Gateway for Justin show. Not much changed. Corbin was in his usual spot in front of his computer screen. The couch in the middle of the room looked as if it hadn't been sat in for months. A colony dust bunnies had taken up residence on the floor under Justin's desk.

I heard footsteps as the ceiling joists creaked above me. Justin walked in thirty seconds later. I could see through him, right to the gun between the waistband of his jeans. Guns made me nervous. Cold, void of empathy, destruction their only intention.

"Hey Justin, over here." Corbin motioned for Justin to sit on the couch. "This is crazy, but I think Will was in my house last night, his spirit anyway." Corbin said.

"Will? Are you sure?" Justin asked.

"Yeah, he communicated through an Ouija board." Corbin said.

"What did he say?" Justin asked, dropping his guard and looking down at the coffee table.

"He said he wanted me to kill you." Corbin said. Justin's body tensed as we both let out a collective gasp that shot though the room. When Justin lifted his eyes from the coffee table he found them looking down the barrel Corbin's revolver. "Now, reach behind your back and place your gun on the table." Corbin ordered Justin.

“No!” I shouted at both Corbin and Justin, neither able to perceive as much as a whisper. “This is not what I want. I'm here to save you, both of you!”

Justin's energy field turned black as he reached behind and pulled out the gun, placing it on the table. "Why?" He asked.

"Revenge. Will wants you dead. Probably to deal with you face-to-face." Corbin lied.

"Revenge? You're the one who killed him … and Monika. Not me." Justin said.

"Not you, yes. It should've been you, if you had any balls, but you don't. You leave others to your dirty work. Anyway, it doesn't matter. Will didn't stick around to explain the details and I really didn't care. Now, get up slowly and walk to my van."

"You don't want to do this, you can't." Justin pleaded. "The police, if they find me dead, they'll come knocking."

"That's just the thing, Justin. You'll be dead alright, but you won't be found."

"Corbin stop! I'm begging you!"

"It's going to look awfully fishy when you turn up missing. I'll tell them how you always talked about skipping town. A runner looks guilty does he not?"

Corbin bound Justin's hands and feet with wire, rendering him helpless before forcing him into the back of his van.

“I know you're here, Will.” Corbin spoke out loud. “You should've moved on, left well enough alone. You shouldn't have come back.” I tried in vain to free Justin but was powerless. Corbin drove out of town. Justin's mouth was gagged, the only sound for miles was his choking on spit and doom.

"This is where you your ride ends." Corbin said, stopping at the edge of a secluded woods. The rushing Bear Creek river sent chills down my spine. Corbin placed a bag on Justin's head. His eyes wide with terror. His body wiggled and writhed against its restraints. I screamed for Corbin to stop as he dragged Justin to the river's edge. "This is how you properly dispose of a body." Corbin yelled as he slid Justin's twisting flesh down a large slippery rock and into the river. The roaring water swallowed Justin fast and hungry. I scrambled after him … screaming for his spirit.