After Mr. Patrick left, we sat in silence. The slamming of his car doors could be heard echoing like a gunshot, followed by the sound of an engine starting up. Most painful was the crunching and grinding of a car being haphazardly over the sad excuse of a driveway leading out of the property. He may have kept antiques here for his business, but I hoped beyond hope that he didn’t invite customers here with that run-down goat path of a driveway.

 

      As the crunching of gravel and dirt against his tires and muffler faded off into the distance, Mrs. Everly’s eyes narrowed. She looked towards the one person I had yet to hear speak, the African American guy who seemed to be John’s friend.

 

      “Jones, what else did you manage to dig up?”

 

      He reached for a document tube and opened the lid with a pop. The map he unfurled appeared to be a US Geological survey map, showing the farmstead and the surrounding area. Several annotations were made at various points, with the property lines clearly delineated in red pen. He grabbed some printouts that were furled with the map, handing them over to Mrs. Everly.

 

      “Besides what we initially knew going in? Not much that seems relevant. The history of the house is mostly as said. No Native burial grounds in the basements, no cemeteries causing pets to rise from the grave. Just an old house. As far as the early history of the place goes there’s nothing particularly extraordinary about it minus a few disappearances in the 19th century. The biggest concern is the report we got back from the USGS. Shallow water table for the most part, and the kind that lends itself to sinkholes and caves. Coal country as well; we aren’t too far from Centralia.”

 

      “Caves? Sounds like this is going to be an absolute bitch.” The black-haired woman muttered, the shaking of her head flashing blonde roots. I think John said her name was Catherine?

 

      “That’s only a worst case scenario. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

 

      “Why do you always say that?” John massaged his temples, glaring at the woman who, technically, he said, was in charge. “You of all people should know not to jinx things. Do you remember the national forest? That clusterfuck? We just escaped that shit by the skin of our teeth” The black-haired woman nodded, Jones glared, while Chris looked oddly guilty.

 

      “The national forest debacle doesn't count.” Mrs. Everly absentmindedly played with the tab on her beer can, examining the rough-hewn rafters above. A pistol could be seen shoved between a gap between the aged oak and the floor above. Weird.

 

      “Like hell it doesn’t count!” Jones shouted. I started to worry if there was some sort of internal discord in the group. “You even said ‘I wouldn’t worry about it’ last Thursday, and sure enough Doc rolled three nat twenties in a row.”

 

      “Two completely different things. But we’re getting off-topic. We’re discussing the job. Real life. Not the unfortunate loss of your ranger. No need to be so superstitious.”

 

      “You do remember what we do for a living, right?” Catherine muttered.

 

      “Complaining about the lack of budget, mostly. And research.”

 

      “Budget falls to you and the higher-ups. We’re the ones stuck doing most of the research and other gruntwork.”

 

      “I didn’t want to be stuck as a manager.” Mrs. Everly reared back in indignation.

 

      “Fair enough. I know how much you hate paperwork.”

 

      “Speaking of research, what do you have for me Li- Cathy?”

 

      “We discussed this last night. And on the car ride up here.”

 

      “For the sake of the newcomers, explain the basics. We’re supposed to be recruiting after all.” The tab on the beer can she was playing with snapped off, and she began idly pushing it around the heavy table.

 

      “On that topic, and the topic of my research, let me just say there’s not much good. Rather, there’s a lot of bad signs here. This might not have been the best job to take prospective new-hires on.” She furrowed her brow, mouth twisting like she had bit into a lemon as she looked over at us.

 

      “They’ll manage. You aren’t afraid of no ghosts, are you two?”

 

      Finally, my presence in the room was acknowledged. Mine, and Anna's, but she seemed a bit distracted.

 

      “I don’t know, I haven’t even seen one before. I hate to seem skeptical, but do they show up often?” I tried to hide my excitement.

 

      “Often enough, if you know what to look for. It depends on a lot of factors. There’s also varying degrees of severity with hauntings. I’m assuming based on your interest in the topic you’ve done some reading.”

 

      “A bit. I’ve mostly watched youtube videos about it. I think I know the basics at least.”

 

      “That’s a start. And your friend? Ms… Wait, do I know you from somewhere?” She tilted her head, taking a closer look at Anna.

 

“Maybe. I go to a lot of different events.”

 

“I swear I recognize you from somewhere. Was it a con? Or maybe it was in an article somewhere. Eh, it’s probably from a convention of some sort.”

 

“Wait, didn’t you cosplay Professor Ursula at ANYC last year?” And now it’s time for the nerd stuff.

 

“I wanted to cosplay Sucy but someone kept reminding me I didn’t have the figure for it, so-” She was interrupted by Catherine clearing her throat.

 

“That might have been it, but I swear it was from somewhere else. But let's get back on track.” She fished through her purse, pulling out two sachets tied with a leather cord. “First of all, you should probably put these on. They should help to keep you at least somewhat safe.” Confused, I examined it. They were roughly sewn from a silk-satin fabric, and the soft, crumbly touch of dried herbs could be felt through the surface.

 

“Doesn’t this seem a bit, uh, like a superstitious charm? I thought we were supposed to be approaching this scientifically.”

 

“There’ll be plenty of science later, but right now we’re covering the basics. If something works, there’s no need to fix it, and, trust me, these will work. Wasn’t there that quote from Ronald Hutton about it? Getting the job done is important, but we can’t neglect safety.”

 

“You’re going to want to listen to her on this one.” John chimed in. “Most of the time there’s nothing to worry about but as the saying goes ‘complacency kills.’” The grave expression matched the solidness of his tone, a stark contrast to the friendliness he had displayed earlier. “Some things are best not left to chance.”

 

The videos I had read had mentioned being careful about ghosts following you back home, and the need to be in the right headspace when searching for them, but surely there had to be a certain degree to which you’d just be too credulous about the so-called mystical side of things. I can understand being in the right mindset for searching for signs of the supernatural, but weird-smelling bags of herbs feels like some witchy Tik-tok nonsense. Better safe than sorry but-

 

But the pistol magazine poking out awkwardly from underneath the woman’s blazer is even more absurd than a small spell-bag. The sheer over the top oddness of it and the muted reactions to it by everyone else made it hard to fully contemplate, but that’s not normal. Their website seemed on the level at first glance, but is this really a normal ghost-hunting group? Several former servicemembers, heavily armed, and with an inexplicable budget?

 

“Who are you people?” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I regretted them. This whole scenario glowed in the dark like Mr. Burns from The Simpsons, and whatever they were up to was clearly dangerous. And clearly more than ghost-hunting. Why didn’t I just trust my intuition from earlier? People can disappear like it’s nothing. It happens all the time. It happened…

 

“The East PA Anomalous Research Society. Whether we tell you anything more depends on your performance this weekend. Who knows, we might even tell you our real names.” She grinned as if she thought herself a comic delivering a brilliant punch line, but the tension in the air made the joke fall flat. She was testing me, testing us, seeing if we’d flinch. One wrong word, and things could go horribly wrong.

 

“Oh, hey, I follow you on Instagram. You do pretty good sewing work for an amateur.” Anna broke the silence and, with it, the tension as she scrolled through social media on her phone.

 

“I told you the cover names were stupid.” Said Catherine. Or is that her real name?

 

“Seriously, why the fuck did you name me ‘Chris P. Bacon?” Chris said. In hindsight there’s no way her parents would have been cruel enough to name her that.

 

“That aside, we do need to keep a bare minimum level of OPSEC for this.” Mrs. Everly started to speak.

 

“Should you really be the one saying that, Mrs. Cosplay Witch?” Even John was getting in on the verbal dogpiling. “Sorry about this, but at this point we’re going to need the two of you to sign NDA’s. We had kind of hoped to avoid that at this stage in the process, but some people can’t keep from making in-jokes.”

 

What weird-ass government conspiracy have I gotten dragged into? The papers he pulled from a backpack were in a complex format, with the names of the departments redacted. Everything since I arrived here had been an absolute roller coaster of insanity. The only thing there is to do is to at least make sure I’m not signing anything absurd. I reached for the pile of papers and began to thumb through them, when Mrs. Everly spoke up again.

 

“You don’t have to read them. We don’t have all night for that, and you’d have to sign regardless of what’s in the paperwork. The sooner this is over with, the sooner we can get to work.” She said. The constant shifts in mood were disorienting, and the pressure I felt from her stare was causing my head to swim. She held out a worn fountain pen.

 

“Fuck it.” I signed. The moment I did the pressure I felt seemed to vanish. I handed the pen over to Anna so she could also sign.

 

“We do tend to get sidetracked easily, as a group.” Mrs. Everly seemed apologetic. “So, should we continue with the brief? Cathy dear?” Catherine let out a sigh.

 

“It’s too late to do anything about it now, but as I said this really wasn’t the best job to take prospective newbies on. I suppose with them having just signed an NDA I can hold a bit less back during my explanation, but there is clearly something here.”

 

“Demonic?”

 

“It’s too soon to tell. It could just be a very angry ghost, you know how they can get if provoked. We had considered the possibility of it being a poltergeist, but the kids are too young for that to be likely. It’s even clearer now that we’re here, but the preliminary look at the place showed that whatever was brought here had plenty of fertile soil to take root. While not as bad as some spots, it was clear from the start that this area is ‘thin.’ The only thing that kept it from popping up on our radar sooner was likely due to the natures of the previous owners.

 

“The last owner, well, you know the deal, but all the ones before that were strictly religious. While not perfect, that likely was enough to protect them from the worst of the effects of this land. It fits the profile, with rock formations, a high water table, hell, even the berry bushes throughout the property. But if a bunch of hippies or pretty much anyone less grounded in this world had lived here, well, there’d be a lot more disappearances.”

 

That last part sent a chill down my spine. The certainty in the way she spoke made it clear she was used to talking about people going missing. This felt different than just talking about ghosts and spirits; it felt like another phenomena entirely, and one that was all too familiar.

 

“The clients haven’t complained about any abrupt personality changes with any of their children, so at least we have that going for us. Any concerns about activity from the other side?” Mrs. Everly glanced over, making sure we were paying attention, but how am I supposed to follow a conversation like this, where they actively try to leave half the things unsaid?

 

“There’s no fairies looking for human children if that’s what you’re worried about. At the moment, most of the danger should be coming from our side. But places like this can feed something that’s already dangerous, and we know that there’s something dangerous here. Che-”

 

“We’ll find it in good time. So, any questions?”

 

I already signed the NDA. I shouldn’t be afraid to ask questions at this point.

 

“Do you happen to have a beer? I think I need it.”

 

      Mrs. Everly reached into her purse, pulling out yet another can of Yuengling, glistening with condensation. Ice cold like it had just been pulled out of the fridge.

 

      “How?” It was a one-word question, but she seemed to understand just fine.

 

      “Have you ever heard of milking a dishrag?”

 

      “What the hell?”

 

      “I thought not. Don’t worry about it. Any more relevant questions?”

 

      “Actually, yes. Fairies? What are you talking about? There’s no way something like that exists.” This question earned me a snort from Catherine.

 

      “Didn’t you come here to hunt ghosts? It seems weird you’d believe in those but doubt other aspects of the supernatural.”

 

      “Ghosts are one thing, but little creatures making shoes or doing chores is just improbable. There are plenty of people who’ve seen ghosts, but fairies?”

 

      “Just approach things with an open mind. I get the feeling you’re going to need it going forward.”

 

      “Like the sachet?”

 

      “Exactly. But, sachet aside, this is supposed to be training. I may have been, well, forceful earlier, but if you have half the intelligence I believe you to have you’ve probably realized what you may stand to gain from this weekend.”

 

      What do I stand to gain? I’m spending a weekend cooped up with a bunch of sketchy government agents disguised as a ghost hunting group. No, disguised? They made it clear they’re using fake names, but when I asked earlier who they were, she clearly stated “The Eastern PA Anomalous Research Society.” I got thrown off by how downright weird they are, but nothing has changed the fact that they’re investigating a haunting. And recruiting. They’re weird, but if their wealthy benefactor is Uncle Sam, then maybe I can actually do parapsychology research for a living.

 

      “A paycheck and a job?”

 

      “Half right. I would have thought ‘information and closure’ would be higher up on the priority list.”

 

      She knew. I should have seen this coming. Even a cursory internet search of my name would show it, considering the newspaper interview. But I shouldn’t let that get to me. I can’t let that get to me. It wasn’t my fault in the first place, but if she knows anything then I don’t have any other choice.

 

      “What do I have to do?”

 

      “You’re overthinking this. You’re the one who contacted us, remember? You’re here to investigate, so investigate.”