June 13, 2003

It doesn’t take long for me to regret saddling myself with these teenage hoodlums.

Next time I ask for directions, I am not bartering. Period.

“Come out come out, where ever you are” Foust says in a sing-song voice.

He’s taunting it. Not a good idea. I shake my head.

There is definitely something here. A presence. I can feel the energy pulsating out of the very wood. Whatever it is, it is attached to this church.

I catch Neukirk out of the corner of my eye and do a double-take.

“Get that camera out of my face.” I give him his only warning, “Or I will shove it up your ass.”

That seems to convince him that he should video tape something else.

“Relax. The camera isn’t even on.” Neukirk lies. He’s probably used that line a thousand times before, but I can see the red record light.

“Right” I say.

My attention is drawn to the front door. Something is standing there; just to the side of it. I can make out the deeper black of a form within the shadows. My skin starts to prickle. I reach for my holster.

I wonder how they’re going to react once they see the gun. Hopefully they don’t freak out.

Gowan, the short, roundish kid, starts talking again.

Shhhh!

I give him a look that says, in no uncertain terms, that I will punch him in the face.

Everyone is quiet.

I look back to the door and the shadow is gone.

Damn it.

At least now I know its here.

“I don’t hear anything” says Angove, loudest of the bunch.

“What’s the matter? Foust raises his voice as he taunts it some more. A stupid smirk cracks his face. “Are you chicken shit?”

“You feel that?” Neukirk asks. His camera focused on Foust, sitting at the end of one of the pews.

Yes. I feel it. The feeling is oppressive and its makes it harder to breath. I reflexively take deeper breaths to compensate for the feeling.

It’s totally psychological, of course. The air itself hasn’t changed.

“Well, boys. It looks like our reputation has preceded us again.” Foust makes a show of it, talking to the others, but directing his comments towards the ceiling. “If I were a demon, I wouldn’t want to fuck with us either.”

A sudden sense of dread assembles itself in the back of my skull.

“All right. I think that’s enough,” I caution.

But Foust’s mouth is like a toilet tank with a busted flapper.

“You know, I bet Jesus Christ could kick your ass-“

A loud bang startles everyone. I jump.

Jesus Christ!

I hope the camera wasn’t filming me that time.

“Holy fuck!” I hear Neukirk swear, his voice low and full of fear.

I look for Foust, but the gangly bastard is already at the door.

Gowan is rooted to the floor boards. Beads of sweat roll down his face, glistening in the dancing flashlight beams.

“What was that?” Angove asks.

He’s drawn a knife. Crazy bastard. I am going to have to watch him closely.

“Something flew by my head and landed on the floor over there,” Foust blurts out.

Angove was on the move and Neukirk didn’t miss a beat with his camera. As Angove rounds the pew, he spots something.

“It’s a hymnal.”

“Shit.” Mutters Neukirk.

Angove creeps up on it cautiously, in case it was playing opossum.

Instead of being distracted by the book, I kept an eye on the upper floor. The ceiling was two stories high and the second floor was nothing more than a balcony that encircled the entire church.

That’s where I think the entity went.

No.

That’s where I know the entity went.

I can hear them talking behind me as I move towards the stairs.

My eyes never leave the spot along the railing where I sense it hiding.

Why is it hiding?

It’s giving off waves of energy. It’s a very aggressive entity, so why is it just peeking over the edge at-

The first step creaks under my weight.

And then everything changes.

Tension oozes out of the walls like the guts from a road kill at high noon on an Arizona summer day, choking the air.

The oppressive thickness is gone, replaced by a living charge of static fear.

Silence fills the church. Every mote of dust seems to hang suspended in the air, waiting.

I risk a sideways glance at the others. They’re not moving, pinned to the floor.

I make my way the top and creep slowly to the corner where the balcony turns to my right and runs the length of the building.

I peer around the edge. It’s dark and I can’t see the entity, but I can sense it just up ahead.

My gun is in my hand.

Click.

With painstaking caution I set the hammer back.

My heart is racing. I have no idea what this entity is capable of and I want to end this quickly. Steadying my nerves, I step around the corner with my shoulder square to the long balcony.

The flashlight flicks on and there it is!

It’s still hunkered down, peering over the railing at the kids. With a slow, sluggish motion, it turns to look at me. Almost as if it were drunk and its reflexes are off.

The face is amorphous and seems to shift continuously. It reminds me of a face within a funhouse mirror. The features don’t change, except that they are pulled and squeezed in and out of shape as if it is trying to find the most comfortable fit.

I am struck by the familiarity. It reminds me of something, but what that is eludes me at the moment.

Oh well.

I squeeze the trigger and the first bullet tears through its center mass. The blackness parts and swirls like a mist, reforming without any sign of damage.

Damn.

From below I hear Gowan rifle off a string of incoherent words.

I pull the trigger again. Then again. And then again.

The holes close.

That shouldn’t happen. Not with these special bullets. I have never encountered a ghost that wasn’t disrupted into oblivion by a single slug!

Why is this one not obliterating?

This isn’t a poltergeist.

Shit.

Glancing over the railing I see Neukirk pointing the camera up at me.

What the fuck is with this guy and the camera?

I yell.

“Everyone out! Now!”

I hear the mad stampede of feet on the floorboards and then a slam.

Foust is wailing.

I look over the railing and see them huddled around the closed door, Foust and Gowan are pulling at the handle trying to open it.

“It won’t open!” Gowan shrieks.

Then I hear a thunderous crash and the pews start sliding slamming into one another. Pieces of wood splinter off in femur-sized slivers from the power of the impact.

“Harvey!” Neukirk shouts, his voice nearly lost over the noise of the colliding furniture.

Still with the camera!

“We can’t open the door!” He’s marginally calmer than the others.

Shit. Time to go.

“Hold on!”

Whoa!

Out of the corner of my eye I catch the entity move. It’s like it’s coiling its body and then lunges over the side and down to the main floor.

“Look out!”

I’m already half way down the stairs when a new wave of terror wells up from below.

I hit the bottom floor and step into a maelstrom of hymnals. I throw my arms up to project my head. My adrenaline is pumping something fierce. I can feel the battery of hymnals crashing into me as I try to avoid getting crushed by the bucking pews.

They are kicking at the door and throwing their shoulders into it. The effort is futile seeing as the door opens inwards.

“Out of the way!”

I barrel through them, desperately clearing some room to work.

“Get back!”

They barely move. I can’t blame them. The storm of debris is buffeting all of us.

I crouch down and press the barrel of the gun against the wood of the door right next to the hinge and pull the trigger. Splinters fly everywhere and Angove cries out.

“My eye!”

I pay no attention and blast the top hinge. With barely any effort I shove the door open.

Son of a bitch!

The press of bodies behind me sends me sprawling out onto the porch and then off the edge where I land awkwardly on the ground.

Gowan tumbles past me. Someone kicks me in the leg. And Foust trips over my arm.

In a mad scramble I finally get to my feet and back peddle away from the church. We’re standing in a line, watching the gaping blackness of the interior through the now door-less entry.

I can hear the tumult still raging inside. Heavy thuds echo as the pews clash like rhinos, and the kamikaze hymnals sound like popcorn in a lidded pot.

Then it stops.

Like someone cutting the marionette strings all at once, everything crashes to the floor in a thunderous rolling staccato.

All of us just stare, waiting for something to happen. No one says a word.

When nothing flies out of the church after us, Neukirk breaks the silence.

“Fuck me.”

I start to relax, which sucks, because now I can feel the damage done by the flying hymnals. I am going to be covered in welts. My thigh is tightening up from the Charlie horse I got from whoever kicked me and my elbow is hurts. I must have cracked it on something when I fell off the porch.

“Is everyone ok?” Neukirk asks.

Foust and Gowan mumble and nod. Angove points to his eye where a small gash on his cheek is still welling blood.

“I should sue you.”

He’s talking to me. I ignore him.

I spit some blood from my mouth. My tooth is loose.

As I re-holster my revolver, Angove squirms nervously.

“I think you guys should take off.” I say, “And I don’t recommend coming back here.”

Foust nods and I can tell by the look on his face that he is never coming back here again.

My mind turns its attention back to the church. It’s staring at us from the blackness.

What the hell is it?

Something I haven’t encountered before, that’s for sure.

Definitely not a ghost.

Maybe-

It suddenly dawns on me.

Whatever this thing is, is trying to mimic our thoughts. That’s why its visage kept twisting.

It was picking up images from our minds. We came in thinking of ghosts and demons and that is why the amalgam looked so familiar. It meshed both, my knowledge of ghosts and their interpretation of what a demon looks like, which is why the thing looked like a clichéd picture book Satan.

But, that still doesn’t tell me what it is. It’s definitely not a demon or a devil or a ghost.

This will require some further investigation.

I turn to look at the others.

Neukirk is filming me.

When he notices the look on my face, the camera vanishes behind his back.

I consider shoving it up his ass, but the bruises covering my body protest. Instead, I decide to let it go this time.

“Let’s go.” Gowan says as he leads the march back to the cars.

Angove lags behind and I hear him shout, “We’ll be back bitches!”

Shaking my head I look at Neukirk.

“Who are you guys, again?”

He cracks a roguish grin, “We’re the Legendary Ghost Hunters, Inc.”