“Hold his tongue tight. The nail has to go in clean, you understand?”
Some people think that a ghost is the spirit of someone who has died. Others think it’s an echo of some past life or powerful event. And there are plenty, of course, who think they are nothing at all.
I don’t know that any of this is exactly right, or odd as it may seem, exactly wrong. Ghosts are more than just echoes—they can usually think and feel and act according to some internal drive I don’t claim to understand. Those drives, and much of their overall nature, is so alien that I often feel like I’m trying to grab smoke or estimate a void when I turn my mind to trying to guess why they do what they do.
And what do ghosts do? Well, often they seem much like an echo—a mindless, repeating soundwave that slowly fades as it travels through the rigors of time and space. They frequently seem bound into actions or messages or other loops, but given the inconstancy of this trait and the lack of comprehension as to their true goals and nature, who can really say for sure?
What is easier to say is that every ghost is bound. I can’t speak as to other kinds of spirit or whatever else might lurk in the darker corners of the world, but every ghost is tied to something by an ethereal leash that prescribes the limits of their travels, and consequently, the sphere of their influence.
The common cliché, of course, is a haunted house. And as with many things, a cliché is a cliché for a reason. Houses are a very common tether for a ghost. You could get two dozen people to tell you bullshit about why that is the case—psychic energy, past trauma, unfinished business. None of them know. But it’s easier to sell you something if they speak with confidence, right?
The key is that ghosts—all ghosts, in my experience—are tethered to something. A part of a house, a piece of land, a key or a toy or a bag of chips…they always have an anchor in the real world. Or maybe just the ones we can notice do. Maybe there are billions of ghosts floating around that we can’t perceive at all, all of them just wishing to be imprisoned so someone can see them watching or hear them scream.
One other thing that I can say with some confidence after doing this for over twenty years is this: Ghosts cannot haunt or inhabit the living. Forget what you may have seen on cheesy movies or bad “documentaries”. There is some kind of natural spiritual resistance perhaps, or ghosts just lack the ability to do it. And note that I’m saying ghosts—I make no claim as to what other entities can or cannot do.
But wait, you may be thinking. What about all those stories of ghosts following a family when they move away?
My response is this. Most likely they inadvertently carried the tether with them when they moved. Ghosts can be strangely clever, or at least it is easy to perceive their actions as such. In either case, it is not uncommon for the tether to be an object that is either intrinsic to the location or highly prized by an individual. This occurs to a degree that is grossly statistically significant, suggesting that the tether is selected rather than randomly assigned or happened upon, and that the choice is based at least on part in maintaining the potency of and the audience for the haunting itself. I’ve never seen a roll of toilet paper become haunted, for instance. Or a chip bag, for that matter. That was my attempt at absurdist humor.
Instead, ghosts tend to be tethered to things that will last and be around people. I think they not only want to be seen, they need to be. Based on research that was done in the early part of the last century, when tethers are removed from their natural environment and totally isolated for an extended period of time, the ghost bound to it fades away. Whether this means it is truly gone or just lacks the ability to haunt anymore, I couldn’t say. But the salient point here is this: If the tether is removed, so is the ghost.
The husband was sweaty and nervous as he glanced between his wife and me. “Ms…Ms. Bergensohn. I…this all sounds good. Great, I mean.” Raking a hand through greasy hair, he looked down at the picnic table we were sitting at. “This…this thing is going to kill us if we don’t get rid of it. It was bad enough when it was moving things and making noises, but when it attacked our little girl…” He shook his head as he went on with a shuddering breath. “I thought she was going to die that night. That we all were.”
The wife broke in. “Are you sure it’s not a demon? Or something worse than a ghost?”
I gave the woman a thin smile. “I’m quite sure. I do not claim expertise in any of these matters because, by their very nature, a true expert cannot exist. But I know very well what I know and what I do not. And rest assured, your problem is a ghost haunting. Nothing more or less.”
She swallowed and dropped her gaze, but pressed on. “It…I’m not doubting your knowledge, it’s just…it has gotten so violent. It…It bit me when we were pulling Maddie free that last night.”
My eyes narrowed slightly as I waited until she ventured a timid glance back up. “Your resistance to the idea of this being ‘just a ghost’ is born out of your ignorance, I’m afraid. I’ve seen a ghost skin a man alive. Burn down a house with a family trapped inside. And far worse things that I won’t burden you with. But I assure you that a powerful ghost is capable of being very, very destructive.” I turned back to the husband dismissively. “Now, my team has investigated your house. Determined that a powerful, malignant ghost is present and identified the tether. That is why I am here, as my time is very limited and valuable. With your permission, my team will remove the tether, and consequently the ghost, from your home this evening. In the morning, your family can return home and won’t be troubled by this thing again.”
The man was already nodding, a desperate sheen in his eyes, but again the woman pushed her way into the dealmaking. “Ma’am, that sounds great, it does. But how much is this going to cost? I mean if ya’ll are so good at this and your time is so valuable or whatever, how are we going to be able to pay for it?”
She withered slightly as I turned to her, but she didn’t drop her gaze this time. My smile felt hard and brittle on my lips. “It won’t cost you a thing. We provide this service for free and receive our funding through other sources.”
The husband began to beam, but the wife’s brow was still furrowed with concern. “Okay, well. I mean, not that we aren’t grateful for the help, especially for free, but it just all sounds too good to be true. You flew all the way here, you’ve got those three guys that have been staying at the house for a week with all that equipment, and you don’t want us to pay anything?”
I sniffed as I slid out from the bench. “If you don’t want my help, that is your prerogative. Thank you for your…”
The husband leapt up. “No! No! We do.” He shot a dark look back at his wife. “We’ve just been through a lot. But we can’t afford to move and I can’t carry my family back in that place until its gone. Please, please help us.” Jaw clenched, he turned again to stare at the woman. “Isn’t that right, Bonnie?”
Bonnie frowned at my smirk before giving a sullen nod. “Yes. Please help if you can.”
“He keeps fucking moving around!”
Jasper yanked Toby back down onto the table again before glaring at Josh. “I thought you fucking dosed him an hour ago?”
Josh held his hands out placatingly. “I did. Same dose as the last one.” He pointed at the little boy laying on the table. “Look at him. He’s out, man. Been out for half an hour. It’s the occupants, I’m telling you. And I can’t dose them.”
Jasper muttered a curse as he shook his head. “Fine, fine.” Toby’s comatose body lurched again and Jasper laid on his chest as he pointed awkwardly toward the boy’s feet. “Brad, strap his legs tighter before he breaks something.”
“Do you have control of the situation, Jasper?”
The man looked from Brad to me, the anger fading from his face only a little. “We do, Ms. Bergensohn. We do. But this one is about full. You know how they get when we crowd them in. My honest opinion is that we pull a fresh one from the Ranch and start over.”
I shook my head. “No. Our client has asked for seven, and seven is what they will receive. You know the number affects the potency dramatically, and I am not in the habit of breaking my word.” I glanced over at Josh. “Where is the tether?”
Looking startled, he fumbled a small plastic bag out of his shirt pocket. “Yes, Ma’am. Right here.” He gave a small grin. “It was a framing nail between the first and second floor. Right at the heart of the house. This one’s smart.”
Nodding, I looked back down at Toby. He was small for a nine year-old, but surprisingly healthy given the circumstances. It was to be expected, of course. The children at the Ranch, the “fresh ones” as Jasper called them, had to be fed and cared for as one might any child. But after the second or third tether was implanted, their need for sustenance declined. By five, they did little but sleep and dream with no need for the outside world. And by seven?
The child’s body was marked by his journey from boy to bomb. A coin lay sewn beneath the skin of his right thigh. A bit of glass from a bar in Poland jutted from his arm. A razor blade nestled into the flesh of his calf while the filed off point of an old weather vein lay between the knuckles of his left hand. A wood splinter behind his knee and another, larger piece in the small of his back.
Just one more left.
“Do it now.”
Letting out an accepting grunt, Jasper waved Brad over. “You heard the lady. Bring it here.” As Brad stepped forward, Jasper pried open Toby’s mouth. Eager to please, Brad already had the pliers at the ready. Jasper wasn’t impressed or convinced.
“Hold his tongue tight. The nail has to go in clean, you understand?”
What I offer is a service. A weapon that cannot be easily traced or thwarted. You know my reputation and the results speak for themselves. Chaos and destruction greater than any missile or assassin’s bullet, but without the risk of failure, mitigation, or retaliation.
The place you put this…it will be poisoned. The people there, they will slowly rot from the inside. Their minds, their hearts…In a week, they’ll be forever changed. In a month…well, it will be over in a month.
And then…
“What if they just leave? You know, go somewhere else because they’re scared?”
I stifled my irritation as I offered a smile. “A reasonable concern, but unnecessary. What we have prepared, it doesn’t manifest as a traditional haunting. These ghosts…they are trapped somewhere they don’t want to be with other, similar entities they don’t want to be around. They can’t take out their frustration on the vessel physically—they need him alive and able to sustain them. And their overwhelming presence shuts down the body somewhat—would possibly kill it if the entities didn’t sustain him in turn. The vessel is forever asleep, protected and tormented and punished by the things he now carries in his meat and bones. That’s one of the reasons we predominately use children. It’s estimated the younger vessels can survive for upwards of fifty or sixty years.” The ambassador seemed unconvinced, so I went on.
“The vessel comes in a container specially designed to isolate him and the entities from the outside world. When you plant him where he is needed, all you need to do is remove the outer container and ensure he is left in a hidden place with at least slight airflow. They do still need to breathe, if only a little.”
The man frowned. “Yes, yes. We know well enough how to hide him. But you haven’t answered my question. How is this different from a haunted house? Won’t people just dismiss it or get scared and run away?”
I felt my smile hardening. “I have a man that works with me. Name’s Jasper. He’s been with me for years. Rough around the edges, but professional. Pragmatic. And not without moments of insight.” I leaned across the polished desk toward the ambassador. “He has a saying. ‘Why do ghosts do what they do? Because they’re fucking insane.’”
I leaned back. “I call it Miasma. The observable phenomena where ghosts, when forced into close proximity, become more potent and…well, more insane, if you want to apply such terms to these things. They lose individual will and personalities. They devolve into a force more akin to radiation—it eats away at the minds and the souls of those within a certain radius, and it does so in a very insidious fashion. Not only will the afflicted not leave, they’ll not want to leave. They’ll keep drinking the poison until they can’t take another drop.” Crossing my legs, my smile was more earnest now. “Put another way, this is a bomb you don’t come back from.”
The man was sweating now. He’d already knew the truth, or I’d have never been retained. But like so many men, he wanted to talk. Talk and be convinced and show me how intelligent and powerful he was. And now he sat here, out of stupid questions and left with the reality of a world that was much deeper and darker than he could ever truly appreciate.
“I…I see.” He swallowed. “And the inner container? Um, we leave that on permanently, right?”
I glanced at my phone when it vibrated. The final payment had just gone through. Nodding, I stood to leave. “I would, yes. It offers no shielding from the things in there with him, but it does offer a great deal of acoustic buffer.”
The ambassador raised his eyebrow. “Acoustic buffer?”
I’d started toward the door, but I stopped to turn and look back at him. “For the screams. He may be asleep, but our little Toby never stops screaming.”
Comments