Chasing Henry Marshall

Chapter Five

   If I was to tell anyone I wasn't nervous about today, it would be the biggest lie I had ever told. I was so nervous that I didn't even sleep well last night. I tossed and turned countless times in the sheets, lines of questions running through my head. I had never done an 'interview' or 'documentary' type article. Usually my articles were things off the news or things I heard from friends. I had never been 'out in the field' as some would say. And that was going to be my disadvantage. Henry and his crew were probably very familiar with the way journalists worked and I was going to be very, very different.
   He's probably going to laugh at me...
   I did manage to fall asleep a few different times, even with the thought in my head, but each time I did, my unconscious brought up dreams from the depths of my soul. Dreams about my past, my mother and her paranormal tales, and my little ventures to try and confirm them all surfaced. I would always wake up, heart racing and body laced in cold sweats. I don't know why my past bothered me so much but it was something I didn't like to dwell on. With my mother gone, the memories burned like fire. And the next time I fell asleep, it was as if I couldn't control my thoughts anymore. I fell into a state of remembrance.

   I remember my dad getting a call in the middle of the night. Him seeming shaken when he wakes me from my sleep, picking me up and grabbing me a blanket. He places me in the car and I go back to bed, unable to understand what was going on. When we arrive at the hospital, he carries me down the white halls in a rush. I don't understand why we were here. Then we stop by a large window, within lies my mother. I can tell it is her through all the bandages and tubing. She isn't moving. I remember asking my father what happened but he sets me on my feet and leads me inside. He sat down beside the bed and, for the first time I can remember, began to cry. I start to cry as well, scared because I don't know what is going on and the strongest man I know is sobbing.
   Then comes the funeral. I don't remember much in between the hospital stay and the funeral. I believe her state declined to the point that they put her on life support, which meant my dad had to pull the plug. That tidbit stabbed me in the chest and I physically flinched in my sleep.
   The funeral is a nice one. There is lots of people I know and there is flowers everywhere. It reminds me of the fairy tales my mother read to me. I half expect fairies to flutter out of the petals, but none ever did. Then we place my mother in the ground and I vividly remember screaming, tears pouring down my face. I don't want my mother in the ground... She will suffocate. I am so naive. I cry and scream the entire way home, which I am sure was hard for my father to handle.
   But the most interesting part of it all is that when I get home, I instantly begin to 'ghost hunt'. As a young child, it can't be considered anything close. I am just a depressed child yearning to talk to her deceased mother. I wander the house over and over, listening to the silence and asking silly questions to nothingness. My dad just watches, thinking it was my way of dealing with my pain. I remember after a few months, I stop trying. I realize my mother was gone for good. And about that time, I guess I stopped believing in a world you can't see. The reason my mother wasn't talking to me came down to one of two things in my childish mind: either mother didn't love me or there was no such things as ghosts. I knew my mother loved me greatly, so that could never be the case.
   Therefore, ghosts didn't exist.

   My alarm clock pulled me from my memories and I slowly wiped away the tears that had began to fall. I took a deep breath and got up. I went through my normal routine a bit quicker than usual, fearing I would be late for class. I could only imagine the look on Henry Marshall's face when I walked in, eyes red and puffy from crying. I maneuvered my dorm room with ease, my roommate once again absent. I decided to dress in something that would probably be classified as semi-formal to Henry Marshall but overdress to my peers. Screw them. Mr. Marshall would rip me a new one while wearing his cocky smile and staring at me with those cold blue eyes if I didn't show up in the appropriate attire. I grabbed a gray cardigan off the back of my desk chair and my messenger bag, heading out.
   When I arrived and walked into class, I felt every eye on me. But the most prominent in the room was the cerulean eyes of my professor and temporary employer. Henry gave me what I assumed was an approving nod and I walked to my seat. I felt all the eyes of my peers burning holes in my back but I sat up straight and got my notebook out. I needed to refresh my memory on the paranormal if I was going to be spending who knows how long on the most famous, knowledgeable man on the subject. Mr. Marshall took a seat on the corner of his desk and cleared his throat, starting the beginning of class. I was very nervous, but I also couldn't hide my fidgets of excitement. I was so ready.
   But my confidence slowly dissolved as I took notes on everything Mr. Marshall said. Today's class was about the basics like the classifications of the paranormal and the equipment the investigating teams used to 'hunt' them. If this was the basics, I was in deep trouble. The only thing that would save me would be my notes and a bit of help from good ol' Google. My eyes flicked toward the clock several times throughout the class period and I knew that Henry had saw me more than once. In fact, I was staring at the clock when he so graciously called on me for something.
   I turned my gray eyes towards him and he saw him looking at me expectantly. I realized I had missed his question.
   "I'm sorry Sir. What was the question?" I asked softly. Everyone in the room began to laugh. Henry raised his hand and the room fell silent. He was like a God to these people. What he said was the law.
   "I was just reviewing what I have been talking about so everyone could be dismissed. The last question comes down to you," He said as he mosied over to me. I sat up straighter in my seat and watched him. He moved so gracefully, like a tiger on the prowl. He stopped eventually, standing right in front of my desk as he had done the first day. He squatted down to eye level. I blinked and raised an eyebrow. This was new for him.
   "Can you tell me how to classify a poltergeist?" He asked softly. There was no smile on his face and, if I wasn't mistaken, there was concern in his eyes.
   "A poltergeist?" I echoed and he simply nodded. I looked at him for a moment. Something was definitely up with him.
   "A poltergeist is a type of ghost responsible for physical disturbances such as loud noises and objects moved around or destroyed. They also move or levitate objects, such as furniture and cutlery, or create noises such as knocking on doors. There are claims that they have the capability to pinch, bite, hit and trip people." I waited for his response but all I got was a faint nod. He stood and walked to his desk.
   "You're all dismissed," he called out and all the students rose from their desks, heading out. Everyone expect me. I just sat there while everyone filed out and I kept my eyes down, pretending to read my notes. I had never seen this side of Henry, even if I had only known him a day. He wasn't usually a kind or concerned person so why was I seeing worry in his blue eyes. I shook my head and dropped the subject.

   "So. What's wrong?"
   I looked up and saw Henry erasing some of the illustrations and notes he had written on the big white board. I shrugged and slowly got to my feet. He looked over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow. I caught his gaze and sighed.
   "Nothing is wrong Mr. Marshall. I'm fine," I said softly.
   "Your eyes are glassy and puffy," he stated as he looked back to the board, "Both signs of crying. So why might that be?"
    I groaned. So that was why he got down to my eye level. He was making an observation. Maybe this cold man really did have a caring bone some place in his perfectly trimmed torso.
    "I wasn't crying. I didn't sleep well last night. I am nervous to meet your crew." This was the only cover-up I could think of. Henry didn't seem to by it but he didn't continue to bother me either. I leaned against the edge of his desk as he finished cleaning up the board.
    "Well my crew is waiting at the site so we should head over," He said as he grabbed his jacket. I nodded and just seemed to follow whatever he said. Henry noticed this and touched my shoulder, "If you don't seem happy when we get there, my crew will most likely pester you all day. And I can't have them slacking off when we need to be setting up base. So please, at least fake a smile?"
     I stared at him. So all that mattered to him was work. I nodded curtly and walked by him, heading out the door. He followed close behind. We walked close by each other all the way to the parking lot on the far side of the campus. Why hadn't we just went to the nearest parking lot? I would never know. But sure enough, there sat Nathaniel in the jet black car from yesterday. Henry ducked in but before he shut the door, he noticed me hesitating.
    "Well are you going to get in or not? I mean, we can leave you here if you want. I don't mind," He said with a slightly mocking smile. I shook my head and a small smile twitched at my lips. I couldn't keep myself frowning when this man seemed to be trying so hard to make me grin. I got in and shut the door, slipping the seat belt on and setting my messenger bag next to me.
    "How far is the place from here?" I asked, looking out the window as we pulled out onto the street.
    "Its about an hour," Nathaniel answered. I nodded and I noticed him watching me in the rear view. I smiled at him and he smiled in return. I was curious about where we were going. Was it a cute little house? A museum? Maybe a barn on a farm somewhere in the country? I started to scribble little observations and I asked Nathaniel various questions the entire way there, half of them being intercepted by the always egotistical boss. But it filled the giant time gap and I was able to start writing some of my notes for the article.
    And when we arrived, I was completely blown away. We turned onto a drive; a long winding dirt drive that led us down a row of pines. After several long minutes, we got to the end of the driveway and saw the building we would be investigating. I didn't think I would ever see the day when Henry Marshall's face looked as surprised as it did at that moment. But I was also very surprised and I leaned up between the two men in the front seats.
    "Um... How long did you say this investigation was going to take...?"