Echoes of a Haunting - Revisited Read online

  There had been a different atmosphere in the house since Alex had been here. I had often said that after a storm it felt as though the earth had been scrubbed clean. That was the feeling in the house after Alex left. I was almost afraid to hope. So far all my hopes had been dashed one by one. Could his having found out why the “spirits” were here have accomplished the miracle we had been hoping for?

  Thinking back to when we had first moved in, I remembered that a barn (Alex said the bodies may have been buried near a barn) had been torn down to make room for our pond. In addition, for the first few months after our arrival, the dogs kept coming home with what I thought at the time were old deer bones. Now I wondered just what kind of bones they were and what the digging of the pond had disturbed. The pond excavation could be what had triggered the whole thing. Father kept assuring me that whatever kind of disturbance we had he could take care of it. The only thing was that he was having difficulty deciding just what our problem was. Now, with Alex’s one visit, things seemed to be quieting down.

  Alex had asked us to find out as much as we could about the house and to look for possible grave sites in the area. The first request was difficult to fulfill since most of the old records were unreliable to say the least and as scarce as the proverbial hens’ teeth. The other was a simpler request–the teenagers from town were only too happy to help out there.

  Monday–October 1, 1973

  I had forgotten what peace was! It has been so quiet since Alex left I can’t believe our luck. I have been checking what old records are available and found that there was, indeed, a road going quite near the house and could very well have carried coaches or wagons of some sort. The road came all the way from Cuba and wound through the mountains, passing up our road and continuing on up the route of the present camp roads. From there it must have passed the Burton Road and gone on into Olean. The boys decided that they would go and try to find out just where the old road came out.

  Mike was late getting home tonight so I lay in bed listening for him. When he finally did come in I heard him slam and lock the door. Immediately after, he bounded upstairs to my room, obviously upset. Breathlessly, he told me that he and a group of his friends had gone up the Burton Road to see if the old stagecoach route came through there as the old map said. On the way up they saw a light in the trees. Stopping to investigate, they soon realized that every time they got near what they thought was the source of the strange glow, it disappeared.

  As they walked, they kept encountering cold spots in otherwise balmy air and began to get very frightened by the noises coming from the woods. In their fright they decided to joke and say the sound came from “giant acorns” falling. For the rest of the time they were together “giant acorns” became their catchword. When they traced the path they were on as far as they could they saw that, strangely enough, it must be where the old road came out. Even in the overgrown sections they could see deep ruts. Mike said he had the strangest feeling someone was following him so they split up and went home.

  He went on to say that he thought he had brought “someone” home with him and was afraid to go downstairs to bed. Another of our “code words”. “Someone” was in the bedroom. “Someone” was in the car with me. “Someone” just rattled the cellar door. Just as he was explaining the way he felt, we heard the back door open and slam shut. He had locked it as he came in. I had heard him. Freezing in alarm, I felt my scalp crawl and Mike turned as white as a sheet. I got up and accompanied him downstairs. The door was still locked! I walked into his bedroom with him and he finally agreed he would try to get some sleep. At least they had a good idea now where the old road met the Burton. I wonder if it was worth it.

  Wednesday–October 17, 1973

  It has taken this long for the boys to get up their courage to go up the Burton Road again. No matter what I said, I couldn’t dissuade them. This time they went up in force and figured nothing would happen. They were wrong. The trouble started with Randy, who went into a voluntary trance. Against everyone’s advice, he had been experimenting with this ability and was apparently able to go in and out of trances at will. When Phil and I heard about it, we strongly discouraged him from continuing. This was a dangerous enterprise anywhere let alone in the vicinity of a “troubled” area such as we lived in.

  This time, however, Mike N collapsed. He kept asking Dave to keep talking to him so he wouldn’t go under. I hadn’t known that Mike’s grandfather had been a gifted psychic. Is it just me or is there a sudden proliferation of psychics? At that point, two more of the boys collapsed. They seemed to get worse when the moon came from behind the clouds. Those who managed to keep their awareness really had their hands full. I don’t know how much of it was peer influence and how much moon influence, but the result was the same–frightening.

  I told the boys later that they’d better not go up the road again if that sort of thing were going to happen. Not only did we not know what was really happening to them up there but we were in enough trouble with the townspeople already without adding to it.

  Saturday–October 20, 1973

  In spite of our warnings, the boys went up the Burton Road again tonight. Craig wanted to go because he didn’t believe the boys when they told him what had happened. Again, they had the same problem but Craig had trouble keeping his awareness too, something he hadn’t bargained for. All the boys became frightened and left except Craig and Randy. The group was supposed to meet in front of the school in town.

  As Craig and Randy were driving toward town, they saw a man in the middle of the road who appeared to be headless. Craig swerved and almost ran the car off the road. Randy warned him that the next weird thing they saw should be ignored because it wasn’t really there. They reached the school without further incident and began to compare notes on what had happened.

  Suddenly, Clarke, Craig’s younger brother, lost control of his right hand. He tried restraining it with the other hand but couldn’t. Before he knew it he had drawn a figure resembling a buzz saw and a stick figure next to it of a boy–all in the steam on Mike’s windshield. He was very upset about it and was afraid it would alarm Mike. They all decided at that point to call it a day. Mike was to spend the night at Craig and Clarke’s house so I didn’t hear of this incident until much later.

  Sunday–October 21, 1973

  Phil and I got up early today. Mike was supposed to come home to help Phil put insulation around the foundation of the house. We wanted to prevent our drain lines from freezing as they had a habit of doing each winter. Time moved on and still no sign of Mike. Peanuts had begun to spend the weekends with Fran and Bill, the campers directly above us, and they had difficulty getting away from him so they could go home. I took the car up the hill to pick him up hoping I’d also meet Mike. No Mike!

  A few minutes after I returned home, a State Trooper came to the door and told us Mike had been in an accident and was in Olean Hospital. I don’t suppose your heart can actually jump to your throat. It just feels that way. Phil and I told the girls and jumped in the car. On the way down the hill we saw Mike’s old car (“Henry’s Revenge” [named for Henry Ford]) leaning against a tree at the edge of a thirty foot drop off. It didn’t really look too bad.

  At the hospital, Mike looked pale and so young lying on the table. He was unconscious, his one eye covered by a bloody bandage. The doctor told us that they didn’t have the facilities to care for him there and they wanted to transfer him to the accident unit at Meyer Memorial Hospital in Buffalo. Of course, we readily agreed. They rushed Mike to the Fire Department ambulance while I made a hurried call to the girls and another to mum. She and dad would meet us at the hospital.

  I still have trouble remembering the nightmare ride to Buffalo. I usually enjoyed the sight of the rolling hills, now covered with a multicolored patchwork quilt of falling leaves. This day I saw nothing but the seemingly endless road and heard nothing but the rapidly diminishing sound of the siren. We, of course, subject to speed laws, could not keep up w
ith the ambulance.

  By the time we got to the hospital Mike was being worked on by a team of experts. Mum and dad were there, badly shaken. Mike had looked pretty bad when they brought him in. Blood was dripping from the gurney onto the floor as they wheeled him in. Finally, one of the doctors told us he was bleeding internally so they were going to have to operate right away. They also wanted permission to do a cranial angiogram to check for head injuries. We gave our permission for the necessary procedures and then tried to settle down to wait. It’s really unbelievable how slowly time can pass–and how quickly!

  After what seemed an eternity, we were told they had succeeded in stopping the bleeding by removing Mike’s spleen and, so far, they could find no major head injuries. They moved him to Intensive Care. After another interminable wait, we finally got in to see him. It was quite a shock. His right eye was the size of a golf ball , swollen and black and covered with dried blood. There were bruises and lacerations all over his face. He was hooked up to a respirator, an EKG machine and an IV. Without all this help I doubt he would have lasted five minutes.

  It was painful to watch him. The doctor came in and told us he was responding to commands so they were hopeful that the concussion would heal without permanent damage. Though he was in critical condition, they had high hopes for his recovery.

  There was a neurosurgeon in attendance and an eye specialist was coming in to see him. We decided that I should stay in Buffalo to be near Mike. Phil and dad would stay with the girls. Phil was going to bring me some clothes from home. I was still wearing the ragged jeans I had been working in.

  Monday–October 22, 1973

  Phil came from home today with my clothes. He drove in early to spend some time at the hospital before he had to go to work. The girls are taking care of things at home. All Mike’s friends are upset about the accident and couldn’t really understand how it happened. Mike’s car was old and the top speed it could manage on the hill was 20 miles an hour. Phil and dad are anxious to see the car and try to figure out what had caused the accident.

  The police spent a long time searching for a passenger. Mike kept asking them if they got the other guy out. Unfortunately, they didn’t know our code words. What he was saying was that “someone” was in the car with him. Also, there was what looked like the imprint of a head in the passenger’s window. Mike had hit the rear view mirror so hard with his eye that he snapped the mirror off at the bracket so he didn’t hit the passenger window. Of course, rumors are flying. Was there someone with Mike or “someone”? There was no way of knowing for sure.

  The people from town sent food and offered their help. Betty stayed at the house for a while with the girls and Father was keeping close tabs on the family. Dad stayed with them the entire time Mike was in the hospital.

  Mike’s condition had not really changed. Sometimes I’d stand watching the dial on the heart monitor and just pray it wouldn’t stop. As usual, Mike was constantly moving so they finally had to tie him down. Also, as usual, his foot was tapping out the rhythm of a song only he could hear. He still responded to orders but I didn’t really think he was aware of anything.

  The waiting room for Intensive Care has got to be one of the saddest places I have ever been. One woman there had a son who had been in a coma for six weeks. He had been injured in a motorcycle accident. She sat in the waiting room crocheting and waiting, prayerfully, for some sign of life. A couple from out of town was keeping vigil with their son who had been hit by a car. Most of the bones in his body were broken. He had just started a new job too.

  Mum spent most of the day with me even though she was still on crutches and it was difficult for her to get around. I couldn’t settle down to read and I don’t know if I could have managed if mum hadn’t been with me. We were only allowed in to see Mike for short periods and the waiting seemed endless. They took some more x-rays today but no one seemed to know what they were for.

  Tuesday–October 23, 1973

  Today passed slowly and there was still no change in Mike’s condition. He was sweating quite a bit so at least I had the satisfaction of putting cold cloths on his head. He was semi-conscious at times and, if the nurse asked him if he needed anything for pain, he always shook his head. It wasn’t long before he was in severe pain. I finally told them he was terrified of needles and not to ask him anymore. They then gave him the shots as ordered instead of giving him a choice. They brought a young boy in tonight. He’s sixteen and had been in an auto accident too. His poor mother didn’t know what to do. She had little kids at home and no one to take care of them. Her husband had to leave for work. She finally made the agonizing decision to go home when they assured her they would call her if there were any change in his condition.

  It was hard to keep our spirits up with so much misery around. But at least Mike was alive.

  Wednesday–October 24, 1973

  Today Mike seemed no worse although he didn’t seem better either. My days had settled into a routine. Mum still spent most of the time with me. She probably thought I wouldn’t eat if she weren’t there. She was right. I thought I noticed a slight improvement in Mike after supper and the nurses said his condition was “fair”, the best report we had received so far, so I went home early. Phil came by on his way to work. He had a frightening experience in the house the night before.

  He was trying to sleep on the couch because he wanted to be near the phone in case I had to call him. He was in that state bordering on sleep when he saw five men, whom he described as being midgets, come out of the door which now opened into a closet. Before remodeling, it was a second door to the front porch. Phil said the men were dressed in “Little Lord Fauntleroy” costumes. By the description, I would have called them Puritan outfits.

  However, the men were discussing someone and saying, “Should we wait or take him now?” After apparently making a decision, they went out the same way they came in. Phil was in a cold sweat. This type of experience was new to him. By this time, he took it to mean that they were deciding whether Mike should be allowed to live or not. To satisfy himself, he called the hospital and was told Mike was in “guarded” condition. He had gotten much worse after I left.

  I broke down for the first time. I knew I was much too tired to go to the hospital but I wanted to go anyway. Phil wouldn’t hear of it. Instead, he didn’t go to work but spent the night at the hospital. It was Mike’s worst night. They worked on him almost continuously. Phil was only allowed in to see him for a few minutes every hour.

  It didn’t help our spirits to recall that the first thing we had heard on going to the hospital this morning was that the sixteen year old boy had died during the night.

  Thursday–October 25, 1973

  Mike was slightly improved this morning. Everyone in Intensive Care seemed relieved. The nurses all became very attached to their patients and took each sign of progress as a personal triumph for each of them, as, indeed, it was. Mike was still on the respirator and couldn’t talk. The nurses had given Mike a “magic slate” and he was making some attempt to use it. After much trying, he let us know he wanted to see a girlfriend of his who was attending College in the area so we promised to see what we could arrange. I am still not sure he knows where he is.

  Friday–October 26, 1973

  They took the respirator off today and it was frightening to see how shallow Mike’s normal breathing was. He has an oxygen mask on but keeps pulling it off, opening the cuts around his eye. It’s proving to be very difficult for him to learn to breathe again on his own and he has such a sore, dry throat he still can’t talk. We heard that some of his friends, including Tracy, the girl he had been asking for, were coming in on Saturday with Father Al.

  After looking at Mike’s car. Phil and dad said that a rod had slipped loose and jammed his wheel in a left turn position. There was no way he could have avoided the accident.

  Saturday–October 27, 1973

  Today Mike’s company came. They had to go in to see him in shifts. No more
than two visitors were allowed in at a time. He was so glad to see them, although he couldn’t say much. I think they were all shocked to see how bad he looked. Like us, they probably saw the car and didn’t think it looked so bad. I had a terrible time persuading him to keep his nightgown down. He wanted to show everyone his scar. He didn’t seem to realize that the nightgown was all he had on. Father Al brought Betty along and she, too, wanted to see Mike. She had been a good friend through all this. After seeing Mike, we all went to mum’s for a short visit and then they started on the drive home.

  Sunday–October 28, 1973

  It was dreary all day today, although still warm for October. I wish Mike could enjoy the fading remnants of Indian Summer. At least he seemed to be making progress now. They got him out of bed for a few minutes but it was really painful for him. I wish I could see the eye doctor because I am very worried about his sight. His eyes looks so bad! They were talking about moving him to a regular room. Tom, the boy with all the broken bones, had been moved but they had to bring him back to Intensive Care when his lungs failed. I prayed that wouldn’t happen to Mike. Much as I wanted him out of ICU, I didn’t want him moved before he was ready.