EVOCATION
By Daniel Skye
Meet Aaron Chase and Brent Gage:
Part time convenience store clerks, part time paranormal investigators.
In a town full of ghost stories and
urban legends, Aaron and Brent were quite the popular duo in Fairview. But don’t
let their pseudo-celebrity status keep you awake with envy. They still live
with their parents.
And they spend more time working the
counter at Quick Stop Convenience than they do investigating and working actual
cases. All day long they field moronic questions like, “Is Five Hour Energy
considered an aphrodisiac?” Or, “Are Trix really just for kids?”
That Thursday afternoon, Aaron had
to bite his lower lip to stop himself from laughing when a female customer
said, “I feel so guilty buying a carton of eggs. All those poor chickens that
had to die to make these.”
When Aaron went on break, Brent
handled the counter by himself. When a customer asked to use the bathroom,
Brent responded with an emphatic, “NO.” The last time he let a customer use the
bathroom, he got stuck cleaning up the mess.
Who
smears shit all over the walls? Brent thought. What goes through a person’s head when they’re doing that?
Another customer, a young man with
black jeans, a pleather jacket, and a skull bandana, asked Brent for a pack of
Marlboros.
“You know, these things give you
lung cancer,” Brent said, albeit sarcastically.
“You’re right,” the young man said,
pulling up the sleeves of his jacket that looked two sizes too big. He was
practically swimming in it. “Forget about the cigarettes. I’ll just take some
chewing tobacco.”
Brent rolled his eyes, but grabbed a
can of Skoal from the rack and scanned the barcode. The young man paid, and as
he was walking out, an older man strolled in. He was tall, lean, dark skinned,
and wearing a charcoal pinstripe suit with an immaculate cut. He was definitely
a businessman. He had that air of scumbag entitlement, and he strutted around
like he owned everything he set his eyes on.
He approached the counter, and Brent
could almost feel the confidence radiating from him. It was overwhelming. Or
maybe it was just the smell of the man’s aftershave that overwhelmed him. It
was a powerful, musty odor that lingered in the sinuses. Brent imagined there
was probably a picture of a little ship on the bottle, like something his
grandfather would’ve used.
“I’m Luther Woods,” he said,
introducing himself. Brent expected him to follow up with a sales pitch.
Luckily, Aaron walked back in and Brent was free to go on break. But before he
even left the counter, Luther said, “You might want to stay and hear what I
have to say. I’m glad both of you are here. I’ve heard a lot about you guys. As
I just told your friend, my name is Luther Woods. And I’m in real estate.”
“If we could afford our own houses,
we wouldn’t be living with our parents, dude,” Aaron told him.
“Don’t worry,” Luther chuckled. “I’m
not here to sell you anything. Quite the opposite. I’m here to acquire your
services.”
“Say what?” Brent muttered.
“I want to hire you both to
investigate a piece of property I’m interested in. It’s a potential investment,
but it has a dark and infamous past. Before I invest, I want to know exactly
what I’m going to be selling. I’ve heard rumors, stories of the place being
haunted. Does the name Thomas Thorne mean anything to you?”
“Sounds familiar,” Brent said. Aaron was more than familiar with Thorne and the property that Luther spoke of.
“Thorne murdered twelve people in
cold blood. He did it all in that house. I need to know if the house is truly
haunted. I’m willing to pay you five hundred dollars each. I know it’s not
much. But I assume it’s more you make in a day working here. No disrespect.”
Aaron and Brent looked at one
another, then back at Luther. “We’ll take it,” they said in unison and Luther
removed two envelopes from his jacket. Then a key.
“As a sign of good faith, I’m paying
you both upfront. Here is a copy of the key. Get back to me as soon as you
check the place out. And if you could, please make this a top priority. I don’t
need someone else making a bid behind my back.”
“We’ll get it done,” Brent assured
him.
* * *
They decided to check the place out
immediately after work. It was a decaying farmhouse on the edge of Fairview.
What remained of its white paint had bubbled and started peeling away. And
green mold had devoured the sides of the house.
Beside the farmhouse was a rustic
red barn that looked more dilapidated than the house itself. They walked up the
lopsided porch and chuckled at the screen door that was hanging on only by its
bottom hinge. Aaron used Luther’s key to unlock the door and the rusty hinges
screamed as he pushed it forward. Brent forced the door shut behind them and
they turned on their flashlights. Luther had mentioned in advance that the
house had no running water or electricity for the moment.
Aaron instantly felt a presence. The
cold air circulated around him, stinging his ears, his cheeks, and the back of
his neck. His skin broke out in goose flesh, and he rolled his sleeves down to
hide his apprehension from Brent.
They made their way into the
kitchen, which had been stripped off all but its cupboards. “You want to do the
honors or should I?” Brent asked.
“Be my guest,” Aaron told him.
Brent, who was raised Catholic,
whispered a short prayer to begin. He’d been told that prayer often worked as a
seal of protection against angry or malevolent spirits. Then he spoke.
“Is there anyone among us?”
He waited for the answer. But the
house was silent.
“We come in peace,” Brent assured
them.
“They’re not aliens,” Aaron
chuckled.
“Quiet. You’ll disrupt the process.
Please, if anyone else is here with us, give us some sign. Trust us, we mean
you no harm.”
Silence. But the cold air still lingered
in every part of the house.
“If there are any spirts among us,
please give us some sign. We just want to help you find rest.”
Silence. A flustered Brent gave it
one more shot.
“Thomas Thorne was an evil man. He
committed many atrocities. If it offers you any comfort, his crimes did not go
unpunished.”
Just at the mention of Thomas
Thorne, the house came to life. The ceiling pipes rattled and the floorboards
rumbled beneath their feet.
“They don’t seem at rest to me,”
Aaron said, no longer able to mask his fright.
There was a loud, thunderous BANG
that shook the entire house from its foundation to its eaves.
Aaron had done his research. When
the police finally apprehended Thomas Thorne, they found twelve bodies in the
crawlspace of the house. The final victim happened to be Thorne’s own partner
in crime, Otis Williams. Aaron had briefly considered that they could
potentially be disturbing the spirit of a bloodthirsty killer. But had it occurred
to Luther Woods?
The rumbling ceased and the entire
house was silent again.
“I think your smell scared the
spirits away,” Aaron joked, if only to ease his tension.
“I don’t think this is over,” Brent
said. “Not by a long shot.”
The hinges of the front door
screeched. They heard the door slam shut, followed by footsteps. It sounded
like a woman’s heels clicking across the floorboard.
Myra Cobb saw the beam of their
flashlights from the hall and shouted, “Who’s there? This is private property.
I could have you arrested.”
Brent was the first to step out from
the kitchen. “We’re not looking to cause any trouble, ma’am.”
“Who the hell are you? What are you
doing here?”
“I’m Brent and this is Aaron,” he
said, grabbed Aaron by the arm and pulling him out of the kitchen for Myra to
see. “We were hired by a man named Luther Woods. He wanted us to inspect the
property before he invested in it. You can call Luther to confirm this. I have
his number handy.”
“Oh, boys,” Myra laughed and shook
her head. She was furious, but she was strangely amused. “You’ve been duped. My
name is Myra Cobb. I’m a real estate agent. Luther Woods is my competition. My
agency recently acquired this property. Luther’s been trying to sabotage us for
years. And now he’s sent you here in the hopes that you’ll disturb the spirts
who are trying to find peace.”
“How do you know about the spirits?”
“I live in Fairview, just like you.
I’ve heard the stories, just like you. I’ve felt a presence in this house, just
as I’m sure you have.”
“I don’t understand. If you know of
its history, why are you trying to sell it? Are you that greedy?”
“I’m afraid you’ve misjudged me. My intention
was never to sell this house. The house was acquired through my agency, but it
was acquired for me. I purchased it. I bought this house so no other real
estate agency could try to sell it. I bought it so Luther wouldn’t get his
hands on it. I never intended to live here. I just want the spirits that linger
here to find their way towards the light.”
“I don’t understand,” Aaron said.
“My sister was one of Thomas Thorne’s
victims. Is that enough motive to satisfy you?”
“Fair enough,” Aaron nodded. Then he
added, “Sorry for your loss.”
“But how did Luther get a copy of
the key?”
“I work in real estate,” Myra
sighed. “Not everyone in real estate is as honest as I am. He most likely paid
one of my colleagues off to make him a copy. Don’t worry. I’ll find out who it was
and deal with them accordingly. But that Luther is one sneaky bastard. He
deserves to rot in hell along with Thomas Thorne.”
The floorboards rumbled under their
feet again and the front door snapped open and shut.
“You probably shouldn’t say his
name,” Aaron whispered.
“Whatever Luther paid you, I’ll
double it if you get him back for this.”
“No, we’ll do this one on the house.
We owe you and your sister that much. And Luther has it coming to him.”
“I have an idea,” Brent said, and a
malevolent grin spread across his face. “How many doors are there in this
house?”
“Just the front,” Myra said.
* * *
Just before midnight, Brent phoned
Luther Woods.
“Sorry for calling so late,” Brent
feigned an apology. “But Aaron and I discovered something we thought you should
know about immediately.”
“What did you find?” Luther asked,
unable to contain his giddiness.
“We’re not sure about the place
being haunted. We haven’t detected any paranormal activity. What we did find is
a cigar box full of gold coins in mint condition. I guess the police must have
overlooked it. There was a hidden panel in the bottom kitchen cupboard. I don’t
know much about coins, but these look pretty rare. We could be talking about thousands
of dollars. Maybe millions. You should get down here soon.”
Luther was already in his car before
Brent could finish his last sentence. He arrived just after midnight. Aaron and
Brent were waiting for him outside.
Luther didn’t greet them. Didn’t
thank them. The first thing he said was, “Where are these coins?”
“In the kitchen,” Aaron said. “After
you.”
Luther stepped inside and Aaron
slammed the door behind him. He locked the door from the outside, and Brent
took a thin block of wood and wedged it underneath the door, so even if Luther
had another copy of the key, the door would be jammed. The boys had also
boarded up the windows, from the outside.
And Luther didn’t have to speak the
name of Thomas Thorne aloud to rattle the spirits. It was written all over the
walls. A final fuck you from Brent and Aaron.
“Can I come out now?” Myra called.
“Come on out,” Brent told her. The
doors of the red barn opened and Myra stepped out. She joined them and looked
back at the house.
“Think he’ll be alright in there?”
Aaron asked.
“It won’t kill him,” Brent said. “But
he might lose his mind after one night in there.”
“That wouldn’t be a bad thing,” Myra
said. “I’ll make an anonymous call tomorrow to the police. Tell them where to
find him. You boys did good. I can’t thank you enough.”
“Don’t mention it. Sorry about the
walls.”
“I can always paint over them,” Myra
said. “Hey, you guys are really into this paranormal stuff, aren’t you? I may
have a job for you…”
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