Chapter 2
Saturday went by as nothing more than a blur. Greg had been stuck listening to Mark talk endlessly about his progress with Cindy (yawn) while Derek had been out with some of the other brothers: Nick (a.k.a. Lucky, but better known as Mob Boss due to some distant ties to organized crime) and Paydirt (whose overworked penis couldn’t help but greet women far in advance of a handshake or hug).
Lucky bastard, Greg thought repeatedly. It wasn’t working as intended, Mark’s nattering still creeping through the blockade.
Despite all the hurdles and waiting and woe, Sunday finally arrived, and Greg was up well before the sun packing things for that evening’s activities. He had crammed everything into his bag from a video camera to motion sensors, a voice recorder to thermometers, salt and an iron poker (the Journeymen said it did wonders but Greg had never seen a physical manifestation), even a pack of condoms. Just in case. Everything was neatly packed except for one last thing. His electromagnetic field meter was missing.
“Hey,” Greg called in a not-so-quiet voice to Derek, who was still wrapped up tight in his comforter like a mummy. “Have you seen my EMF meter?”
“Huh? EK what’s-a- meter?”
“E…M… F… Derek. It’s a little handheld device with an analog dial on it, plus lots of blinking lights. Sort of like the thing in Ghostbusters. Anyway, I can’t find it. Have you seen it?”
“Not in here man,” Derek replied groggily, bringing his face out of his pillow to look at Greg. He had a mile-high stack of bed hair.
Greg was looking around intensely, paying him no attention.
“Hey bro,” Derek began, “are you sure you don’t want me to go with you? I mean I know you are pretty assured about the situation, but what if this guy is some pervert who just wants to see you up close. He may sound good over the phone because he’s a salesman or narrator or something…”
“Narrator? Really?” Greg scoffed, eyes still searching for his missing meter.
“You never know.”
Derek said it so plainly it sounded like a well-known fact, causing Greg to stop and give him the look.
“Okay fine, maybe narrators creep me out with all their weird little voices, but come on man, for real. You remember hearing about those murders around Goodman on your website? I don’t want that to be you, man! You still don’t know what this Eddie guy looks like in real life, or who he actually is.”
Greg took a calming breath.
“While all good points, I’m going to go with my gut on this one. I feel positive that things are going to be okay. But,” he raised a single finger to stop Derek from protesting, “if things do happen to go south, look out for a “911” text from me. You know that we’ll be up at the Crestmore house, so if anything goes down, that’s where you all should come looking. With the authorities. I think we’ve seen one too many horror movies for the frat bros to come charging in alone.”
“Sure, sure,” Derek replied, downtrodden but accepting. “We can hang out Monday then, not that I don’t want to spend time with Mark, but… yeah… I don’t want to spend time with Mark.”
“Especially while he’s on this Cindy kick,” Greg said alongside a much-needed laugh.
He could always rely on Derek to pull him out of the pits of overblown despair. Greg changed out of his sleep pants, putting on a pair of very short swim trunks that his legs barely fit through. An American flag stringer was next, partly straining to contained his flared back. He then stuffed a pair of jeans, a geeky tee, and zip-up hoodie into his bag for later, just in case the seaside air got cold.
“Looks like I’m set.”
Greg turned, then winked at Derek before leaving. As he headed down the hall, he convinced himself that he wasn’t going to let a missing meter throw off his whole day, but it was certainly frustrating that the frat house swallowed valuable items at random. Greg decided that he wanted to check one more place before he left for town, making his way to the living room. There he ran into Mark, who was coming out of one of the ground-floor bedrooms.
“Yo,” Mark said. “Today’s the day you do your big ghost hunt, isn’t it?”
“Sure is,” Greg replied, “and I’d be out the door already but I’m missing some of my gear. You haven’t seen my EMF meter, have you?”
“Hmm. Is it about this big?” Mark asked, positioning his hands roughly to the size of a cell phone.
Greg nodded, and Mark hopped back into his room, emerging a few seconds later with the meter in hand. He tossed it over to Greg, who caught it as it soared through the air.
“That it?”
“Yeah. What were you doing with it? In there?”
Greg was turning he device around and flipping it over, searching for stains or worse.
“Nothing nasty if that’s what you’re implying. Geez. I thought it was a new video game controller so was going to use it, but apparently, your nerd-device didn’t work with the console.”
“Good thing too,” Greg snapped.
“You sure you want to waste your night in a rickety old house?” Mark asked. “You could come join us seaside for a bonfire. Lance will be there.”
“Maybe I’ll swing by later if tonight turns out to be a bust,” Greg replied. He wasn’t into Lance all that much. Certainly not as much as Mark seemed to want him to be. It was probably so Mark could use any potential relationship between Greg and Lance to his advantage, the goal of course being continued access to the good contained in Cindy’s pants.
“I’ll expect to see you there then,” Mark said confidently as he walked by on his way to Nick’s room. “I’ll be sure to let Lance know you’re coming, or was it his friend Jared that you liked?”
Jared by far over Lance, Greg thought, but didn’t say anything. He was too busy shaking the image of things that were as thick as a beer can from his mind. Jared…
Quickly checking his phone, Greg saw that the text he’d sent Eddie late last night was still unanswered. He assumed that Eddie was busy and the surrounding area was full of dead spots, so didn’t give it much more thought. Nothing was going to dampen his spirits, and with a gentle shove, he placed the meter in with his other gear. Bounding toward the fridge, Greg snagged a couple of meals, heading out the door seconds later.
Greeted by the twinkling of the sun between the branches at the tops the trees, along with the sound of birds gaily singing their morning tunes, Greg skipped down the concrete steps in front of the frat house. It was a rectangular, two story building with large white columns; there were two on either side of the large wooden front door. Ahead was a narrow strip of circular pavement that ran in front of all five fraternity houses, used mainly for foot and bike traffic. It was jokingly dubbed Alpha Loop after the renovated buildings were opened (beforehand the fraternities had houses off campus). The name just stuck until becoming official five years ago. On the other side of the small campus, mirroring the setup here, were the sorority houses where delicate perfume countered dominant male musk and lacy silk replaced sweaty cotton.
Greg squinted, then yawned. He had gotten up earlier than he usually did, and needed some caffeine to keep the pace. Walking along Alpha Loop, he swung right a short time later, walking north along the sidewalk edging Holmes Avenue. Not far up this road (which looped the entire campus) was a small plaza – a wayward outpost for students to recharge their brains and fill their stomachs, or just pass the time between classes on the soft grass of East Park while dipping their feet in the small man-made lake. Though that was nice (he’d done it many times before) caffeine was on his mind.
Greg arrived just outside Cuppa Joe’s a few minutes later. As expected, the line was long and full of half-dressed men and women who were charging themselves up for spring break shenanigans.
Greg took up position at the back of the line, getting the odd, lustful stare from one passerby or a disapproving glance from another, especially at the sight of his shorts. While it might have been pretentious, Greg would openly admit that he liked the attention, especially since he got none in his younger years as a full-fledged geek with the body of a cotton swab. As he waited for what seemed like forever to advance three steps, his phone buzzed. It was Eddie.
Sorry! the text said with a few sad emojis. I’ve been having trouble all day getting messages out.
No problem, Ed! In a way, it made me more thrilled about seeing you tonight.
Whew! I was afraid you might have gotten mad and canceled the whole thing! I did go most of yesterday without a word.
I could never be mad at you, boo.
There was that pause again. Was he too brazen? Was he –
A smiley face with a heart came across from Eddie.
Hehe, good. Eddie typed. I can’t tell you how excited I am to go on this hunt, especially with someone like you.
Greg’s eyes widened as he read the text message, along with his lips. They turned up into a smile and suddenly, Greg felt like he didn’t need coffee anymore. So, he left the line, making his way toward student parking.
Hours passed, and Greg chatted with Eddie off and on the entire time. Before he knew it, the sun was near the western horizon, sending a scorching sunset across the whole sky.
Greg pulled up the winding road that was Mahogany Drive in his convertible Mustang, its black paint reflecting the orange clouds. Stopping beside a set of stone columns with broken iron gates in between, he could see the Crestmore house looming in the distance against a grove of emaciated trees. Its dry, colonial façade looked fairly inviting in the warm sunset.
Putting the top up and turning off the rumbling engine, the sound of crickets took over as Greg got out, catching a surprise glimpse of Eddie – for the first time in person – not twenty feet away.
The man was bending over tying his boots, wearing the same backpack that he had on in his UH profile photo. Eddie’s shoulders rolled far out on either side, topping off his wing-like back, all that aesthetic mass tapering itself down to a narrow waist.
Surprisingly, he didn’t seem to notice Greg’s arrival or perhaps he was just teasing him with the view. Either way, Greg did nothing to disturb it. His eyes meandered all over Eddie’s body like stroll through a serene park sparkling with dew.
Eventually Eddie turned, then grinned.
It was all Greg could do to maintain his composure because inside, he was a sexually charged mess. Eddie in person was, for lack of a better word, stunning. His body was amazing from what Greg could see locked beneath the tight clothes, but it was his face that was the prize.
Greg’s eyes locked with Eddie’s. They were big and blue like a summer sky, while his intoxicating smile was framed by a nearly trimmed brown beard set along a chiseled jaw.
Once Greg wrestled free of Eddie’s gaze, his eyes fell toward his waist, where Eddie’s tee had bunched up along one of the backpack straps. It rose slightly as if to tease Greg with a glimpse, and what a glimpse it was. Greg saw some of the deepest cut v-lines he had ever seen, plunging into Eddie’s jeans.
“I wonder where those lead,” Greg said, unintentionally loud and very clear.
“Where what leads?” Eddie asked, pulling down his shirt with a smirk.
“Um… t-that path o-over there.” Greg pointed a quivering finger across the street. “Yeah I’ve driven by this place God knows how many times and have always wondered where that narrow path leads.”
“I’m sure that’s what you were talking about.”
“It was!”
“Sure…” Eddie replied as he stepped closer, a gentle whisper of unknown cologne fleeting by Greg’s nostrils, stirring like a memory on the breeze.
“Well, um, let me say it’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Eddie.”
“The pleasure’s all mine Greg,” Eddie said, gesturing toward the house. “Shall we? This ghost hunt isn’t going to happen if the hunters don’t show up.”
“Sure thing,” Greg replied.
The two of them wormed their way between the tangle of iron bars and vines before walking up a gentle slope that lead toward the house. They were on a long, stony path. To each side and underfoot, the grass was overgrown and the soft crunch of pebbles mixed in with the chirping crickets. The smell of wildflowers accompanied them like a comforting blanket against the darkening night.
Eddie rifled through his bag as the sky became a sliver of orange in the west and a deep purple to the east. It was a beautiful color, but something about it was upsetting. Taking out a rather large flashlight, Eddie flipped the switch. Nothing happened. Trying it one more time led to the same result.
“Shit, the batteries are dead,” he told Greg. “I should have been better prepared for tonight, but the trip back took longer than I expected and, well, the prospect of meeting in person kind of made me nervous.”
“Expecting a serial killer?” Greg asked as he turned on his own flashlight beneath his chin, catching a nervous smile from Eddie. It was adorable.
“What?” Eddie exclaimed. “No, not at all.”
“I’m just kidding. I’ve been quite a bit nervous too. I mean we did virtually meet before, but it’s never the same as in-person goes.”
“That’s so right,” Eddie said, glancing up at the cold moon hanging in the sky. Thin strands of cloud crossed it like a spider’s silken thread. “So, tell me, what are you at school for?”
“I’m working on my engineering degree,” Greg answered. “Chemical, in fact. Yourself?”
“Biology major,” Eddie stated, “though I would much rather be in another field.”
“I can definitely relate to that,” Greg said, kicking a large stone. It bounced across the gravel and came to rest in a tuft of tall grass. “I seem to have spent a lot of my life doing what other people wanted me to do. This degree? I’m getting it mainly to satisfy the parents. I missed a chance at a potential career out in Los Angeles a couple months after I’d started in order stay and get this done. I still kick myself in the ass for missing that chance. I suppose it’s why I work out now; at least I have total control over myself in that situation. Truth be known, I’d rather be a photographer or better yet, someone who gets to play video games for a living!”
As both laughed, Greg shifted his eyes over to Eddie’s tight jeans, which were straining against his assets with every ounce of their denim strength.
Speaking of playing, Greg thought, I haven’t played with something that nice in years…
Eddie’s laughter died down, and Greg looked back to his face. A glimmer of sadness was visible in Eddie’s eyes as he stared at the house, lit by the large ring of light from the flashlight.
“How was your getaway?” Greg asked. “You and your friends have a good time out?”
“Actually,” Eddie said with such softness that it was barely audible. “I went by myself. Mainly to think about things, as one does.”
Greg felt a chill trickle down his spine. He was almost sorry to hear that reply, thinking that Eddie had been out having fun with some friends.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Eddie continued, picking up traces of Greg’s sadness, “it was much needed. I just wish I had the time and energy I used to.”
“Trust me: we all do.”
“Yeah, well, I miss just chilling and playing those video games you mentioned. It’s been so busy, and I’m so tired…”
Greg felt like there was something else. His eyes looked deep into Eddie’s and coaxed out a reply.
“Y-yesterday didn’t help like I thought it would. Getting away only made the feelings of loneliness worse, but I suppose that’s why I leaped at the chance for tonight. Something fun, new, and much needed. Right?”
“Right!” Greg replied, thinking about asking more questions but didn’t want to open any wounds, new or old. He thought it best to leave things alone – for now at least – and focus on the hunt. “You’ve got a friend in me, Eddie…”
Greg’s words trailed off when they arrived at the base of a set of rickety stairs. Up close, the house didn’t look as inviting as it did from the road. Its wood was rotting, illuminated in the ring-light the flaking paint resembled bleached skin that was peeling away from old bones. The windows had been boarded, the jumble of nails and wood like patches fixed over sunken eye sockets. A stench of wet decay replaced the wildflowers and another odor, like dead meat, wafted up from beneath the porch, from the house, from everywhere.
Both men stood there and gulped.
Surely that’s a dead animal I’m smelling, Greg thought, imagining the maggots writhing beneath the splayed fur of a raccoon, or something. Yeah, it must be.
“S-seems like we’re here,” Greg said out loud, plucking up the courage despite his feelings. Sweat was forming on his back, hot and sticky as it spread out beneath his pack. “Y-you ready?”
Eddie nodded, confident yet also showing clear signs of being afraid. A few beads of sweat twinkled in the light. He felt like they were being watched as he breathed heavily, lying as he said, “Ready as I’ll ever be.”