Page 38 of Sinistram
“How do you find their anchor after a hundred years?” Brent mused. “Souvenir hunters and history buffs have been over the area time and again, and they probably carried off anything portable.”
Travis stood in a spot where he could still make out the depression from the long-ago rails. “Then we look for something they couldn’t carry off.”
“The reports said that the rails were taken up; those that weren’t were twisted and bent from the crash. Cleanup crews cleared the wrecked circus cars and hauled away the passenger cars,” Brent reported.
“I imagine the cleanup was rushed, as usual,” Helene replied. “Things get left behind.”
They spread out, staying in sight of one another, walking the stretch of the old railroad line where the crash had occurred. Before long, Brent called to the others from where he stood not far inside the line of trees.
“They didn’t bother clearing all the rail once the line went into the forest.” Travis pointed to the ground where he had kicked away dirt and exposed a rusted section of metal.
“You can still see where the tracks went.” Brent directed their attention to a narrow but unnaturally straight gap. Saplings had grown and grass covered the rails, but the older trees clearly marked the corridor.
“Since they rerouted the line, no one needed this section anymore,” Travis replied. “It might even still belong to the railroad. No one’s been in a hurry to do anything else with it.”
“Being haunted might have something to do with that,” Helene remarked in a dry tone.
Brent kicked at the ground, revealing wooden crossties between the rails. “Now it makes sense.” He invited the others for a closer look. “I couldn’t figure out how the rails themselves could be an anchor, because they’re steel, which has a lot of iron in it, and ghosts don’t like iron. But they also left the wooden crossties, so I guess that was enough.”
Helene closed her eyes and concentrated. “The ghosts are still attached to the area. That’s nothing new. But they’re angry. I’d almost say in pain, if that were possible. That’s different. And I don’t think it’s natural.”
She began walking along the old rails, intent on the ground. “Take a section and look for something new, something not natural that might have been planted to get the ghosts in an uproar.”
Helene headed away from them. Brent went the other way, while Travis ran ahead to check a section farther down the way.
Brent paid close attention, looking for anywhere the ground looked freshly disturbed. After unearthing a few caches of nuts and pinecones buried by animals, he kicked at a mound and then bent down for a closer look. “Hey, what do you make of this?”
Travis and Helene joined him as Brent gingerly poked at the dirt with a stick to reveal a talisman that looked like it had been made from twigs and sinew.
“Don’t touch it,” Helene warned. “It’s dark magic. Might not be the only thing riling up the ghosts, but I’m sure it’s part of the problem.”
Brent withdrew a small flask of lighter fluid and a lighter. “Would this help?”
“If you can burn it without setting the woods on fire,” she replied. “And be ready, there’s no telling how the ghosts will respond.”
“Although we probably shouldn’t burn it until we do the incantation,” Travis warned.
Deep in the woods, Travis thought he heard the rumble of a lion or a tiger. He didn’t want to find out how much damage a ghostly big cat could cause. “On your six,” Helene warned, and Travis turned as several gray ghosts emerged from the trees. They wore regular clothes for their time periods, not circus garb.
“Behind you,” Helene said, and Travis saw a ghost of a headless man in a conductor’s uniform carrying a lantern.
A ghostly tiger came bounding from the forest. Travis unloaded his shotgun filled with salt rounds, and it disappeared, only to be replaced by a spectral lion.
The temperature dropped, and Travis could see his breath mist. At least a dozen human ghosts shimmered into sight, along with a large bear and another tiger. Their clothing matched the era of the circus wreck, and Travis guessed their spirits had not followed their remains to burial. Travis had no intention of letting them get too close.
“Watch out!” Brent warned. “They’re strong enough, even I can see some of them.”
Helene began to chant, but she kept her eyes open and tossed handfuls of salt at any ghosts that came too close.
The bear circled to the right while the tiger went left, two apex predators sizing up their prey, even after death. The angry circus ghosts moved in, cutting off escape. In their recent fights, the human ghosts had been on his side, but these spirits definitely looked hostile.
Brent cocked his shotgun and fired at the bear. It vanished, only to reappear seconds later, even closer. The other ghosts didn’t slow their approach, and shooting the tiger didn’t stop him.
Two of the ghosts wore acrobat costumes, advancing with theatrical handsprings and flips. Three others tossed knives back and forth, never missing. A blood-spattered clown would definitely figure in Travis’s future nightmares, especially when he opened his crimson mouth and breathed out fire.
Brent fired again and again, trying to hold off the ghosts long enough for Helene and Travis to work their banishment. He backed away from the spirits, limited to how far he could retreat by the tiger and the bear who continued to circle them.
“Try to hold them back long enough for us to destroy the talisman,” Travis shouted. That would sever the spirits’ bond to the site of the wreck and stop the haunting.
