The Skinwalker Conspiracies - 02 Read Free

running for President.”
    “You don’t seriously think that guy can beat Hillary?”
    “I won’t rule out any possibilities. Considering the influence of the spirit world on our own, I believe we shouldn’t rule anything out. Now, let’s go back to the hotel.”
    “Did you happen to see that rope still around?”
    He gave me a disapproving glare and I responded, “What? It would be useful for tying up a spirit. Handcuffs won’t work.”
    “Perhaps Michael, but things like that are symbols and some are best…”
    “Forgotten,” I offered.
    “No, never forgotten. Consciously discarded because we have chosen to become better.”  
    As I told the recently departed Mr. Jeffries, Silas was the brains of the operation – for a reason. I turned over the Caddy’s engine and started down the road.
     
    We stayed at a mom and pop hotel just off of Interstate 65. I didn’t splurge on one of the chain hotels, mostly because I was a cheapskate. Growing up as poor white trash left its mark. Besides, after one complete and one half-finished tour in Iraq, I had low standards. It also helped that Brother Silas couldn’t see, but he sniffed the air a few times and shrugged. We were an odd couple, a tall, thin, aging black man and a scruffy short twenty-four year old white guy. We didn’t look like we had a thing in common, but appearances were deceiving.
    Amos Sweet slept in the car, snoring heavily. Many ghosts maintain quirks from when they lived. Best I could tell, most spirits still imitated the actions of the living like sleeping and breathing. I found it somewhat reassuring because they’re clinging to their humanity. The ones that don’t, they’ve given up on being human. Those were the really dangerous ghosts.
    “Remind me to call Pastor Edmunds in the morning and tell him our business at his church is finished.”
    Toting the luggage, I grunted and said, “As long as he doesn’t mind the fact the graveyard looks like someone played a game of tackle football in the mud.”
    He chuckled and I flipped my suitcase on a double bed and fished around for some clean clothes, while lamenting that we’d need to do laundry in a couple of days. Silas had found one very uncomfortable looking chair and sat down. The air conditioning unit struggled and made lots of noise, but did little else.
    “Do all Pastors believe in ghosts?” I asked. I’d done a few of these errands for Pastor Duncan in the past and two on this trip so far. Thankfully, the first one was a false alarm. This one made up for it.
    “I doubt it, Mike. Look at it this way, when a family encounters something they can’t explain, who do they go to for an explanation? Their spiritual leaders.”
    “Makes sense I guess.” I muttered and glanced at the wobbling ceiling fan.
    “Mike, just like those who don’t share our special gifts, preachers of all faiths encounter things beyond their experiences and then word reaches certain people, who get the word to us.”
    “Let me know when we get a hotline or something. I’m going to grab a shower. Do you need anything before I do that?” I asked politely, hoping he wouldn’t.
    “I’d like a pop from the vending machine, if you wouldn’t mind.”
    “Ever notice how some people say pop and others soda? I ran into that all during my stint in the Army.”
    Silas smiled and opened a Braille Bible. “We can be united in our differences.”
    “Good point. Different strokes for different folks, I guess. No problem. I’ll be right back.”
    Opening the door, I walked along the concrete path under the leaking metal awning toward the overpriced beverages. I didn’t mind the drinks we had in the cooler, even though we hadn’t picked up any ice in the past two days, but Silas liked a nice cold beverage on a sweltering night like this.
    Who was I to refuse a request from a man who went willingly, and repeatedly, into Viet Cong tunnels armed with two puny pistols? At least in Iraq, I had good equipment and