for his age, according to the reports.”
“But this kid – this guy – we’ve been seeing in town is not 11 years old. No way!” Delcie said.
“I agree totally.” Said Jen. “That’s what’s weird about this. Don’t ghosts continue to show up looking as old as they were when they died?” She had allowed the word “ghost” to come out of her mouth for the first time, although it had been going through her mind since the incidents at the house.
“Yeah, I suppose.” Said Tanner. “But again, are we sure we’re talking about a ghost? And are we really even sure we’re talking about the same kid? Hell, do you believe in ghosts??” he asked, his voice rising a little, and his glance shooting from one girl to the other. He was pretty sure he didn’t, but he was also pretty sure the girls didn’t, either. Or, at least he wanted to hear them say otherwise.
There was a long silence while the three stared at their soft drinks.
Abraham Lincoln
Chase sat watching TV. Jen sat near him on the sofa but her mind was miles away. Occasionally something on TV would grab her attention, and just now it was some bit about Lincoln not fitting in the bed at the boarding house across the street from Ford Theatre where he was taken after Booth shot him because he was so tall, or how many pairs of gloves Mary Todd Lincoln was said to have. Chase brought her out of her reverie.
“Man, I wish I had Marfan’s Syndrome!”
Jen fixed a gaze on him and wondered what on earth Marfan’s Syndrome was and why her pimply little brother wished he had it. Perhaps it was a disease that made you invisible, she hoped.
“What is Marfan’s Syndrome?” she asked, almost wishing she hadn’t. He was really an OK kid. Way smart, but lacking social skills, and she kind of pitied him in a sisterly way for this, and loved him despite his annoying qualities.
“It’s where you grow unusually strong, especially in the extremities. Long arms and hands. They suspect Lincoln may have had it.” He said.
“Why?”
“You know how tall and skinny he was, right? Hardly the wrestler type, for sure, and yet he won all these county wrestling matches and rail splitting contests. He was supposedly never beaten in a wrestling match. But look at him! He doesn’t look like he could wrestle his way out of a paper bag. There’s an old daguerreotype of him – That’s an old type of photograph…”
“I know what a daguerreotype is…” Jen said in a low voice.
“You know how film was so slow back then, just glass plates, not film at all, really, and they had to leave the shutters open for a long time to get enough light on the plate. Well, in this one picture, Lincoln is sitting cross legged, but you can see that his foot is moving during the photograph because it’s blurred.”
“OK, I’ll bite. What on earth does that have to do with wrestling?”
“It’s a symptom of Marfan’s! They just didn’t know about it at the time because Marfan, the guy who it’s named after didn’t identify this disease until 1896, 30 years after Lincoln’s death.
Jen was in the process of filing this bit of knowledge somewhere deep in the recesses of her mind when an image of the boy – THE boy – came to mind. Long, lanky. Unusually tall and long limbed for his age. Unusually strong? Jen remembered the boy’s ankles protruding out of his pant legs, and suddenly had an image of his spidery-long fingers wrapped around the steering wheel of the Jeep. She was on the phone to Tanner in two minutes.
“I want to go back to the house.” She said.
“Why? Are you crazy? Every person we’ve talked to so far has said that we are absolutely not to do that very thing!” his tone was not scolding, but concerned. Concern for her.
“I want to look at that picture over the fireplace”.
Later, in Tanner’s truck, she relayed the information about Marfan’s Syndrome and President Lincoln.
“So suppose the picture shows the kid. Or the boy as a kid. And suppose he has unusually long legs for his age. How are we going to know how old he is in the picture?”
“I’m not looking for that. I’m looking for how his clothes fit him. I’m guessing that his shirts and pants were too short all the time not because he family was poor but because he kept outgrowing everything. That would show up in the picture.”
‘First of all,” Tanner began, “we don’t even know if the kid in the picture is the boy that’s chasing you guys around.”
“Oh, I know!” Jen said, looking at Tanner with a grave, determination.
“OK, but even if it is, and you’re able to prove this, what about the dog ghosts, or werewolves, and whatever else that was you encountered out there? Do you seriously think I’m going to subject you to that?!”? Tanner said.
“That was at night. Remember, we were there in broad daylight and nothing happened. I don’t think we’re in danger in the daylight.”
“Buy you and Delcie have both seen him in the daylight!” Tanner replied.
“True. But I don’t think he had any power in the daylight. I mean, other than to turn flowers dead and write on signs. No power to hurt us. I think he was just trying to scare us off. Or just scare us. I don’t know. I don’t know why he’s after girls, or high school girls. Maybe he’s a ghost going through puberty.”
‘If he’s a ghost at all…” Tanner added.
“Right, but assuming that what happened that night to Delcie and me was supernatural, and that he was involved, then he’s supernatural and has supernatural powers. Maybe he’s like a vampire and they just don’t work during the day?” she said.
Or maybe he’s just limited to parlor tricks during the day – dead flowers, magic writing, sleight of hand…” Tanner said. Jen popped him on the shoulder.
“Look, I know this is all crazy bullshit. We’re trying to figure it out. But we know one thing for sure.” He asked.
“You’re cute as shit!” she said and quickly grabbed his chin and planted a huge kiss on his cheek. He blushed and smiled.
“Let’s go get Delcie…” Jen said.
The House in Daylight
Delcie was still asleep when they stopped by. Nobody’s cell phones worked up here, so they couldn’t call. She came to the door though.
“Give me 10 minutes.” She said squinting at the daylight.
In five she was back, looking remarkably alert for someone who’d just awakened.
“OK, why are we going back? We didn’t give the crazy monkey werewolf beasts a good enough chance to catch us last time?” Delcie said, wide-eyed, guzzling a can of Red Bull to caffeinate herself awake.
“She wants to look at the picture.” Tanner said.
“I want to know if his clothes don’t fit in the picture.” Jen said.
“Oh. That’s important. I was just wondering about that last night. Maybe we could stop off at Reigelheim’s men store and pick him up some jeans.” Delcie said, sarcasm dripping from the corners of her mouth.
Jen told her about Marfan’s Syndrome and Delcie scowled for a while until she remembered a detail about the day at the store where he’d given her the flower. He was taller than her by quite a bit, but looked younger than her. And his pants were way short. He looked like he was wearing some little kid’s clothes.
“I mean, Marfan’s or not, we’re still talking about a ghost, or demon or something here, aren’t we?” Delcie continued.
“You’re right.” Tanner said. “Either way, we know one thing and that’s that he’s dangerous. Jen thinks he’s only dangerous at night. “
“Let’s hope you’re right, girlfriend!” Delcie said.
Tanner slowed as he approached the logging road. “I want to check something out before we go in.” he said, getting out of the truck.
“Where are you going? Please be careful! This is how the guy gets killed in slasher movies!” Delcie shouted. Tanner turned and grinned at her, and in so doing revealed his full profile, from flat stomach to bulging chest muscles. Delcie was appreciative of this, and Jen’s good fortune.
But
Tanner didn’t much leave the area of the car. Instead, he got down almost on his knees and crouched his way forward to the gravel area surrounding the gate, and checked out both grassy areas either side of it, his face no more than a foot off the ground.
“He’s looking for tire tracks.” Jen said, guessing.
“What did you see?” Delcie asked as Tanner got back in.
“No tracks of any kind. No tire tracks, foot prints, nothing. That’s loose gravel and wet grass there. It rained early this morning. Nobody’s been here since then, anyway, either coming or going.”
“Is that good?” Delcie asked.
Tanner thought a moment, and was about to speak, but Jen did instead.
“It means he’s either in there and has been so since yesterday, or – hopefully – he’s not in there.”
“Exactly. That is, if he’s even bound by the laws of nature at all…” Tanner said.
Tanner eased the truck around the left side of the gate and back on to the road. He drove a few yards then stopped after looking in his rear view mirror. His pupils were dilated, Jen noticed.
“I think we’re expected”. He said.
Turning, both girls saw scrawled in the same childish script on the back of the gate:
“Wellcome back izabell and dulsinayuh!”
The girls stared at the sign wide-eyed. Tanner sat quietly looking forward. No one spoke. They each peered as deeply into the gloom of the under story formed by the giant pines as they could, squinting to see something – anything. The road ran only a dozen yards or so before cutting to the left, so it was an exercise in