The Haunting of the Holy Mackerel

(August 14, 2016)

20: Stalking the Dead

"It's gone?" asked Stanley, looking angry. "Just like that? Just packed up its crummy ghost bags and left?"

Stanford looked at his instruments again. They all stood in the Royal Order of the Holy Mackerel Lodge Hall—Stan had made them all temporary Mackerels to get around the rules—the last spot in the Skull Fracture that they had examined. No trace of the entity remained—the detectors gave out only the normal, somewhat elevated above normal normal, readings for Gravity Falls.

"I can't understand it," Ford said. "As a rule, a haunting entity cannot leave the site of the haunting. Unless somehow it has transformed into a wandering ghost. Let's go outside, just to be safe."

"Dude," Wendy said, "uh, Dr. Pines, I mean, if he's not in here, how will we be any safer goin' outside where he may be?"

"We'll have more maneuvering room outdoors," Stanford pointed out. "Come along."

They all trooped down to the parking lot and stood in a loose group. "Grunkle Ford," Dipper asked, "what's the difference between a haunting ghost and a wandering ghost?"

"It's a matter of will," Ford said. "Are you familiar with the ka, the ba, and the akh?"

"Egyptian?" Dipper asked.

"Oy!" Stan groaned. "I'm ass-deep in nerds!"

"Explain for them, Mason," Ford said with a hint of pride.

Dipper felt tongue-tied. "Um, well, I'm not sure. They're all ancient Egyptian names for the soul, but, um, well, the ka is the soul in the body, the ba is the released soul after death, and the akh is the soul in the afterlife? Something like that?"

"Close," Ford said. "The ka animates the body—and that's why the Egyptians mummified their dead, so the dwelling-place would continue to exist. The ba is, well, a messenger spirit that can travel from the afterlife to the world and back again—the ba is close to what we would call a ghost. The akh, as you say, is the person's essence that goes on to its reward. Now, the ancient Greeks had the psyche and the pneuma—"

Through clenched teeth, Stanley asked, "Is. It. Gone?"

Ford sighed. "I can't say for sure. I fear not, though. Look, think of it like this: the spirit and the soul are somewhat different. The spirit is the person's emotional and reactive side—it doesn't think per se, it simply reacts. The soul is the person's self-awareness, sense of self, identity. It thinks and plans. Some philosophers believe that the soul can slumber—that over centuries it becomes dormant—if the person doesn't go on after death to his or her final reward. That's why poltergeists and such are so chaotic—they're spirits with no mind behind them, just an emotional intensity. But a slumbering soul can be re-awakened. Now, if that's happened, it's probably happened because our bad guy has killed two people and absorbed energy from them."

"So they jump-started him?" Stan asked.

"Not the metaphor I would have used, but yes, sort of," said Ford.

"OK," Wendy said. "Now, assuming that's happened—how do we track this thing down?"

"That is problematic," Ford admitted. "If it has indeed transformed into a wandering ghost, it can manifest anywhere, unpredictably. Now, I'll hazard a guess—just a guess, mind you—that the body of Esteban Pica lies buried beneath the Skull Fracture. What we might try to do is to excavate the grave, find the bones of the old missionary, and give them an appropriate burial—"

"Not in the Catholic cemetery," Teek said. "I don't think the Church would allow that."

Ford nodded. "Perhaps not. But—say at least a Christian burial."

Stan was rubbing his eyes. "Look, to do that, ya got to rip up the flooring! Geeze, that'll cost an arm and a leg!"

Ford shrugged. "I think the Agency might handle at least part of the expense—listen! Something's coming!"

They looked around wildly. Then, hurtling around the corner of the Skull fracture came first, a rabbit and next, a brown dog—who ran up to them, joyously leaping as high as five feet at the sight of them.

"Tripper!" yelled Mabel and Dipper in unison. He came to them, tail wagging and happily panting, as they petted him. Dipper said, "How did you get out?"

And Mabel asked, "What happened to your cone?"

Then someone else came huffing up. "Guys!" yelled Jeff. "Are you all OK?"

"So far," Stan said. "What're you doin' here, Jeff? Don't you have important Gnome business to do?"

"I'm doing it, the small man said grimly. "What are you looking for?"

"A ghost!" Wendy said. "And a mean one!"

"We think it's killed one or maybe two people," Dipper added.

"And one Gnome," Jeff said. "That makes it Gnome business, too. Whoa—what's with Tripper?"

The dog bristled, crouching slightly with his weight on his rear legs, and his muzzle wrinkled as he snarled. His tail dropped, low and tense, and his ears went back. He stared at—nothing, but moved in front of the group and growled out a warning.

Stanford turned on his anomaly detector. "There's a disturbance slowly approaching," he said. "It's in the alley beside the Skull Fracture and the boarded-up Old Time Dime Store."

"Dark in there," Dipper said, glancing to the west, where the sun was already below the cliffs, though the sky was still bright.

Mabel was hugging Tripper. "You can't attack it, boy!" she said. "It's a ghost!"

"Here you go," Jeff told her, offering her a sturdy cord. "Use this as a leash."

"Why . . . do you even have that?" Dipper asked.

"I lead a badger around," Jeff said. "If her leash breaks, I need a backup!"

Mabel tied the cord around Tripper's neck—"What did you do with your beautiful collar?" she asked—making it just tight enough to hold him securely without choking him.

"It's paused," Stanford said. "Let me try something." Raising his voice, he called out, "Esteban Pica! In virtute Dei per fidem a Domino promulgata te. Et ab hoc loco judicandus sit a Deo."

A voice seemed to rumble from the very earth: "Non! Moriemini tu et tuum mittatur in gehennam!"

"What's goin' on?" asked Stan. "Why are you talkin' Greek?"

Ford licked his lips. "Latin. I'm rusty, but, well. Um—I commanded him to leave by the power of his faith and go to be judged. He just told us to die and go to hell."

"Some priest he is," Stan said. "Hey! Ghosty! You want a piece of us? Come on out, you jerk!"

"It's probably too light," Dipper said.

Jeff tugged at Ford's trouser leg. "Listen, you got stuff to fight it with?"

"We hope so," Ford said tensely.

"OK, then tell it to meet us in the dark, away from any bystanders. Um—how about Creepy Hollow? We can get there in fifteen minutes, and it's not close to anybody the ghost might hurt."

"I want the kids to go home!" Stan said.

Jeff looked uneasy. "Uh—have they been in the presence of the ghost?"

"Yes," Teek said. "We all have."

"Sorry, you can't leave anybody out," Jeff told Stan. "This thing will attack the weakest first. You can't split up. Your only hope is facing it together. The Gnomes will help all we can."

"Are you nuts?" Stan asked.

Jeff said, "Stanley, you've been a friend to us. Trust me now."

"I think we have to," Ford said. "Twilight's coming on fast."

"Dammit!" Stan said. "OK. Tell the green gas-assed jerk to meet us there."

Again Ford called out something in Latin. "I hope that will suffice. I told him we will be waiting on the field of battle."

"He'll find us," Jeff said. "Let's go! Wait, where's my rabbit?"

They piled into the two cars—Jeff insisted on riding in the trunk of the Stanleymobile, together with the jackrabbit, which he curled around and cuddled against himself. They drove fast out of town, down the west highway, to the spot where once Fiddleford McGucket and his wife had lived in a cabin, now long-abandoned and collapsed. They hurried up a hill and crossed a small stream into what the Gnomes had always called Creepy Hollow—formerly waste ground, nearly a desert, but now being reclaimed by vegetation. They walked to a relatively clear spot, and Jeff called out in Gnomish.

In the years since Ford had banished the Sentivore, the monster that had lived in the cave called the Gack of Doom, the Gnomes had begun to return to the territory. A dozen of them swarmed to Jeff's call, and in their own language, he barked out a series of orders. They vanished in their effortlessly stealthy Gnome way. "They'll be here when we need them," Jeff said. Dr. Pines, are you all armed?"

"We are," Ford said. "I'm not sure we can destroy this entity—that depends on how strong it really is and to what extent it can manifest physically. But we can at least hold it off. What can your Gnomes do?"

"We have some tricks," Jeff said. "This is a crew who've worked before with minor ghosts. We'll see if they're up to this thing."

"Look," Dipper said, pointing up. "The stars are coming out."

Ford reached into his coat and took out a red lantern. "If I had time, I'd draw a protective pentacle," he muttered.

Teek, as though inspired, asked, "Do you have a spare vial of anointed water?"

Ford did, and he handed it over. Teek sprinkled it in a circle, murmuring, "Let no evil thing come into the presence of this circle. Heaven protect those who strive for good. Amen."

"Will that help?" Mabel whispered.

"Can't hurt," Stan said, patting Teek's shoulder. The darkness was coming on rapidly. The lantern, though red, sent out a brilliant glow. Tripper completely ignored the jackrabbit, which sat in their midst as if unaware of the humans and the dog.

Dipper noticed Tripper suddenly crouch. "I think something's happening," he said.

"I see it," Stan said, his voice tense. "That way, on the edge of the light."

"Hang onto Tripper, Sis," Dipper said.

Mabel put her wrist through the cord's loop. "I got him."

Again Ford called out his spell of exorcism. This time the ghost didn't curse them—but it laughed with an awful, liquid, bubbling sound.

Dipper strained to see it. It hung back, indistinct, on the fringe of the light. He could tell that it was man-sized. It definitely had substance—as it moved in a wide circle all around them, as if seeking a weak spot, it brushed weeds and saplings, and they stirred and bent.

"Everyone keep your anti-ghost rays ready," Ford warned. "Remember, don't hit anyone with them! Focus only on the apparition. I'm going to try to reveal it. Ready—now!"

Ford switched on not a ray gun, but a bright flashlight. The white light stabbed out in the deepening dusk and shone on—

Mabel yelped in alarm, and Wendy grabbed Dipper's arm, gasping.

The thing in the light didn't remotely look like a human.

It was—monstrous.