Green Eyes on the Prize
byline: Anubis C. Soundwave
Prologue B: Whatever it takes...
Annoyed, Jack knocks on his dorm room door.
"Please take it easy on him," says Maddie. "You know he's still moody about his acne."
"Even so," says Jack, fuming, "V-man's timing is shit! I didn't even get to ask you to marry-*"
"Yes," says Maddie; she kisses Jack briefly, then smiles.
Jack blushes, a sheepish grin on his face. "That's not how marriage proposals are supposed to work," he says.
"I know, hon," says Maddie, "but I'm glad you said something now. Any later, and we'd be in a wedding chapel in Arkansas."
"Yeah-where your misandrist sister would have me at gunpoint for a literal shotgun wedding," grins Jack wryly.
"No sense in having her future nephew or niece out of wedlock," says Maddie.
"I agree," says Jack; he strokes Maddie's cheek. "So," he drawls, "since we're more-or-less betrothed right now: do you want to practice making a family...?" Jack kisses Maddie's neck.
Maddie coos, trembling as she gently nudges Jack away.
"Whoa-too soon!" grins Jack. "Maybe after we figure out what the hell Vlad wants."
Vlad opens the door, a huge and cheeful smile on his face. "Come in!" he says, pulling Jack and Maddie inside the dorm room.
"Boundaries, V-man. Boundaries," says Jack as Vlad finishes his spiel, blithely handing Jack an opened letter.
"You were just going to trash that," counters Vlad, "like all the other letters. Besides, you had RETURN TO SENDER marked on it," he adds, "and you sent back the return receipt card."
"No: you sent back the card after you forged my signature," says Jack.
"And it's a good thing I did, Jack," pouts Vlad, "because you were about to send away your golden ticket to Easy Street. As to why I'm pushing you to do this?" he adds.
"That's a good question, pal-one I was just about to ask you," says Jack, wearing a thin smile.
"Simple. You owe me, Jack," says Vlad, "after I put up with that shitty Jersey Devil venture."
"That was your idea, V-man," says Jack.
"Don't vex me with details or give me any of your lip," admonishes Vlad, wagging his finger.
"You jackass: if you'd just get the dollar signs out of your eyes for a minute," says Jack, "then I'd be happy to explain why I don't want to sell."
"No! I'm not letting you piss away guaranteed, free money-and that's final!" fumes Vlad.
"We're talking about property I inherited...located in Georgia," snorts Jack. "In order to do anything about it," he continues, "I'd-*"
"Yes! As usual, I'm way ahead of you," grins Vlad. "I've got our rental van parked outside, buddy," he continues, grabbing a backpack and a duffel bag, "so I'll be waiting for you."
"And what am I supposed to wear?" asks Jack quizzically, resigned to Vlad's latest scheme.
"Just get your normal shit for summer, plus that hideous burnt orange formal suit," says Vlad. He exits the dorm room.
Maddie sighs. "At least he's being creative when he acts out," she says wryly.
Jack gives Maddie an exasperated look, then pulls out his burnt orange suit.
A few hours later, Jack parks the white rental van in front of the gate to a large estate, with a sign over the gate.
"Barrineau Plantation," says Jack simply.
Vlad rubs his hands with glee.
"I have yet to understand your excitement about all of this," says Jack, annoyed.
Jack opens the gate, he and Vlad look inside.
Vlad's eyes widen in shock. "There's...no building," he says.
"Which I'll note that I told you when we started this stupid road trip," says Jack.
Vlad shakes his head, squaring his shoulders. "Jack, think: Oglethorpe Springs is some hick town in the Deep South," he says. "The people here want to purchase a piece of ancient antebellum Southern history from you-they'll pay you millions no matter what ratty condition it's in."
"Come on, Vlad," scoffs Jack. "The antebellum house that would have had some kind of historical value was burnt to the ground during Sherman's March; there's nothing here but these peach trees. Nobody in their right mind wants to buy this place."
"These are Southerners, Jack; they're never in their right mind," says Vlad.
Jack slaps his forehead.
"Hell, Dmitri and I co-owned a small parcel of historical property on Sullivan's Island with nothing but palmetto trees and one scraggly, rotten oak," Vlad continues, "and we cleared over $400 thousand after taxes. Compared to that, this scenic property-with an Indian burial site beneath a lake and a nicely kept peach orchard-is worth far more."
Jack touches his chin. "So...how much was Dmitri's cut?" he says.
"Ten percent, because his credit's always shit," says Vlad dismissively, "so the property was legally in my name."
"Wow. Way to show brotherly love," says Jack sardonically.
"Don't give me that look, Jack; that was fair,' says Vlad. "It was his idea to purchase the property, which is why he got any money at all."
"You're so generous," says Jack in a flat, deadpan affect.
"Of course," says Vlad, smug.
Jack rolls his eyes.
"And you're a lucky bastard; you inherited the damn place from your maternal ancestor," grins Vlad. "Her family had paid the taxes on it before they all died off, so after estate and probate gets their cut, you'll be swimming in cash. Naturally," Vlad continues, his eyes bright, "you'll be kind enough to spot your buddy Vlad a few G's for urging you to take the plunge."
Maddie enters the plantation, struggling with ghost tracking equipment.
Jack and Vlad rush to help Maddie.
"Maddie," says Vlad, "this isn't one of those trips. We're just sightseeing an ordinary property," he continues, "which will make Jack a very wealthy man."
"Now, Vlad," counters Maddie, pouting. "Southern towns like this are always a hotbed of spectral activity."
"You mean this place could be haunted!?" says Jack, excited.
Maddie nods.
"If I didn't already love you," grins Jack, "I'd love you to death!" He kisses her briefly, then rushes out of the plantation.
"Jack, where the hell are you going!?" fumes Vlad.
"To get my gear!" calls Jack.
"But we left our ghost-hunting crap at the dorm!" says Vlad.
Jack reenters the plantation, carrying more ghost tracking gear.
"Why, Madeline?" winces Vlad. "Why encourage this...?"
"Come on, Maddie!" says Jack, eager. "Let's start with the peach orchard."
"The peaches are out of season," says Maddie, "so that's a good starting point."
Jack and Maddie head towards the peach orchard.
Vlad gives a disgusted snort, then shakes his head and heads toward a small wood.
"Hon," asks Maddie, worried. "How many peaches are you going to eat?"
Jack stops mid-bite, on his thirteenth peach. "Damn," he says, noting the peach pits on the ground. "These are good peaches. Best I've ever eaten. I don't think I could eat canned peaches anymore after..." Jack trails off...
...as Maddie waves a scanner over him.
Jack laughs. "I'm not possessed, Maddie," he grins, "and I don't think there's anything supernatural about fresh fruit being delicious."
"I know: watch the thin line between paranormal study and superstition," says Maddie. "Just remember that superstition has a kernel of truth to it."
Jack sighs. "Unless I start rambling on about bourbon in a Southern accent," he scoffs, "I think I'll be fine."
"What was the owner of this place like?" wonders Maddie.
"He was a plantation owner in the antebellum South," says Jack, grave. "You do the math."
"You don't feel that you have the right to profit from this place, huh?" asks Maddie.
"I'm thinking of selling all of it to the locals for a penny," grins Jack. "This place would be a money pit for anybody to maintain."
"Be serious, hon," admonishes Maddie.
"Besides," continues Jack, smirking, "it would serve Vlad right for being a greedy ass."
Maddie giggles.
Jack presents Maddie with his half-eaten peach. "Want a bite?" he asks.
Maddie shakes her head. "No forbidden fruit for me, thanks," she says. "Especially since you've eaten over half of it."
"Oh," drawls Jack, "so you're jealous that this place is trying to horn in on your forbidden fruit action." He embraces Maddie.
"Nice try, Jack," quips Maddie, touching Jack's cheek, "but Eve was set up to take the blame."
"Right. What else was Adam supposed to do-live without his missing rib?" grins Jack. Dropping the half-eaten peach on the ground, he starts to kiss Madeline...
...but notices a figure in tattered rags sitting beneath a peach tree.
"Hon...?" asks Maddie.
"Let's...toss fruit salad later," says Jack, unnerved by the figure's intense stare. "Someplace without an audience."
Vlad shivers as he enters an area within the wood; a lake in the center of the clearing gives off a faint, eerie glow.
"Why am I so fucking cold!?" spits Vlad. "It's the middle of Spring Break!"
Vlad rubs his arms as he walks around. "It's bad enough that Jack's being damned rube as always," he continues. "Hick Southern towns like this always lie about ghost hauntings to troll for hapless tourists."
"Still," he adds, "I'll be damned if I let that lummox try to sell this place to the hayseeds here on the cheap. I'm getting my money's worth from this trip!"
"Good sir," says a voice crisply, "you should be grateful that our townsfolk are willing to take this wretched burden of a place from the good Mr. Fenton's shoulders."
Shuddering as his feeling of cold increases, Vlad turns to the source of the voice...
...and clamps his hand over his mouth to stop himself from screaming.
"I perceive that you sense my presence," says the source of the voice, a bedraggled figure crucified to a tree.
"Y-yes..." stammers Vlad. "You're obviously a ghost," he continues, trembling, "and it's quite obvious how you became a ghost."
"And how did you come to be a ghost, sir," asks the ghost, "seeing as you are still alive?"
"That...is a long and very stupid story I don't want to trouble you with," says Vlad. "Frankly, you've suffered enough as it is."
"Actually," sighs the ghost, "I consider this to be a light affliction: a fitting punishment for a criminal such as myself. The others here, innocent people, have suffered far worse."
Others...? Vlad stares at the ghost. Jack can fuck himself with a rusted fork! he seethes silently. It's just peachy that the one time we're not here to hunt for ghosts, the damn place is actually haunted.
"What...crime have you committed," asks Vlad after a moment, "that warrants being nailed to a tree?"
"I believe, good sir," says the ghost, "that introductions are in order. I am Joshua Caleb Barrineau," he continues, "the eldest son of Jacob Noah Barrineau."
"So you're a plantation owner," says Vlad, his panic subsiding. "The 'innocent people' you're referring to," he continues, "are the slaves you had owned."
"They did not do this to me," says Joshua sternly.
"Take it easy, Josh!" says Vlad. "My name's Vladimir Leonidovich Masters, but you can call me-*."
"Your English is impeccable," says Joshua in Russian.
"And your Russian is better than mine," responds Vlad, flabbergasted, in his best Russian. "I'm American," he continues in English, "but my parents are from the Ukraine."
"Sorry," says Joshua. "I had studied abroad in Russia and the Ukraine for two years when I was in college."
"And you're excited whenever you get to use the Russian you've learned," grins Vlad.
Joshua nods. "I apologize for my attitude earlier," he says. "I think I like you after all."
"That's...good to know," says Vlad.
"Therefore, Vladimir," continues Joshua, "you, Mr. Fenton, and your lady acquaintance should all depart from this place."
Vlad touches his chin. "I agree with you, Josh," he says, twirling his index finger in the water; he studies the intensifying glow. "I don't want us anywhere near this place if I can help it."
"Then you'll definitely want to watch out for Jackie," says Joshua.
"And who the hell's 'Jackie'?" asks Vlad.
"He's the belligerent fellow who chose to nail me to this tree," says Joshua wryly, "that I should suffer the passion of the Lord."
"Really, Josh? What's your connection to him?" asks Vlad, unsure if he wants to know the answer.
"Jackie's my younger brother: the man who killed my father and dear sister Jessica to inherit this property," says Joshua. "Jackson Daniel Barrineau."
"That...would make you..." begins Vlad.
"Mr. Fenton's great-uncle-a few generations removed," says Joshua.
Vlad laughs, nervous. "Oh, shit," he hisses inaudibly. "I'll...just leave you to your day," he says aloud to Joshua. Vlad flees.
Several minutes later, Vlad narrowly avoids colliding into another person, who grabs Vlad to stop him.
"Take it easy, Vladimir, my good man," says the person.
Vlad trembles, still feeling the unnatural chill, even as the person's voice sounds familiar, yet different...
"Where's the fire?" asks the person.
Vlad blinks as he looks up at the other person, staring in disbelief. "Jack...?" he gasps.
"That's what you call me," grins the person.
Vlad sighs, a combined feeling of relief and frustration washes over him. "Jack, what the fuck are you wearing!?" he balks, staring at the man. "That salmon Colonel Sanders suit looks even worse than the hideous burnt orange suit you brought here."
"Jack" glowers at Vlad. "Sir," he says coldly, his Southern accent more pronounced, "I humbly ask that you cease addressing me as though I'm an imbecile. Even for a damned Yankee," the man continues, "your incivility is disgusting."
Vlad shivers, his teeth chattering. "I-it's clear that you're not Jack Fenton," he stammers, noting the wedding band. "For one thing," he continues, "as much as I love my buddy, he's nowhere near smart enough to make it into Harvard."
The man smiles, smug as he glances at a class ring on his left ring finger, above his wedding band.
"You...are 'Jackie', aren't you?" says Vlad, struggling to keep himself from whimpering.
Jackie nods. "You're damned sure not going to sell my property," he grins, "unless you want to end up like Joshua."
"Oh, of course not!" says Vlad. "It's not my property to sell-I couldn't sell it if I wanted to. By all rights-*" Vlad continues.
"Legally, it belongs to Jack-boy," sneers Jackie. "Jackson Daniel Fenton: a big, moody Yankee with fine taste in women-that I would hazard to say he inherited from yours truly. Along with my land, which I won't allow that damn fool boy to sell either."
Vlad sighs. "You, being dead, don't have a choice in the matter," he says. "It's up to 'Jack-boy', as you call him, to decide."
"I'll be the judge of that," says Jackie. "For now," he continues, licking his lips, "I wouldn't mind getting a taste of that sweet peach of a gal L'il Jack's got for himself."
Vlad blinks at Jackie, recognizing an all-too familiar look of lust in Jackie's eyes. "N-no," he spits, squaring his shoulders. "You won't harm Madeline, asshole."
Jackie laughs. "If it weren't for your ghost sense, Vladimir," he says, "you wouldn't have been able to tell the difference between me and Jack-boy. Yet you call yourself his friend."
"Fuck you," hisses Vlad. "It's bad enough that Maddie's marrying him instead of me. I'll be damned if she compounds her horrendous mistake because you want to play Invasion of the Jack-snatchers!"
"What the hell are you going to do to me?" snorts Jackie.
Vlad gives Jackie a crude grin as his right hand glows with red spectral power. "This," he answers, firing a bolt of the power directly at Jackie's face.
Jackie...giggles. "That...that tickles!" he chortles.
"T-tickles...?" stammers Vlad. I managed to terrorize a whole frat house with that during Halloween! he balks silently.
"You're obviously a neophyte at this," says Jackie, "so let me learn you, boy." With that, Jackie returns fire with a bolt of green spectral energy.
Vlad yelps, vanishing in a puff of smoke.
Two hours later, in his motel room, Vlad clutches a pillow over his ears.
You'd think that they'd just wait until after the wedding, he says balefully to himself.
Oh, who the fuck am I kidding? adds Vlad ruefully. I'm just tasting bitter salt that I'm not in the big lucky bastard's place. That sweet, wonderfully moist place between Madeline's...
Vlad roars wordlessly. They're fucking without a care in the world, he seethes, while I'm trying to think of a way to save them both from Jack's evil, deranged ancestral twin.
Okay, Vlad: think, he muses, trying to ignore the faint sounds of coitus filtering through the thin wall between his motel room and Jack's. There's an evil ghost haunting the plantation. Jack, being the moronic Dudley Do-right he is, would never sell this property if he knew it was haunted...
Wait... That's it! All Jack wants me to do is give up on trying to sell the place, says Vlad to himself, and all the maniac haunting the place wants is for it not to be sold.
As much as I'd hate to lose out on free cash, fumes Vlad silently, the fact is that Jackie will likely raise hell to stop the sale-which would have me waste the rest of my Spring Break here in Humidity Hell with Jack and Maddie trying to take Jackie out with our sorry homemade ghost-hunting shit.
Then again... I sure as hell don't want to lose out on the money, Vlad continues. Especially since Jack is in the heaven of Maddie's thighs, savoring orgasms that should be mine. He owes me!
"Fuck it," says Vlad aloud. "I'll figure it out."
"V-man," says Jack, "you look like shit."
"Did you get any sleep?" adds Maddie. "You look exhausted."
"I...was up a bit too late," says Vlad. "Anyway, I've looked all over the property," he adds, "and I haven't seen a single ghost."
"So...?" asks Jack.
"There's no need for us to waste any more time here," groans Vlad. "You can give me all of your 'I told you so' sass in the van."
"Let me just lock the gate, then," says Jack.
A small, elderly black woman wearing glasses touches Jack's forearm. "Excuse me, sir," she says politely. "You're Mr. Jack Fenton, am I right?"
Jack blinks at the woman, startled. "Yes, ma'am," he says.
The woman looks over Jack. "Mm. You is definitely kin to Ol' Jackie," she says. "Look just like him." Pouting, she pinches Jack.
"Ow!" yelps Jack, pulling his arm away.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Fenton," smiles the woman. "I just wanted to see how lively you are."
Jack blinks at the woman.
"Look here: let's just cut to the chase," continues the woman, handing Jack a check. "Take that check, sign this," she continues, giving Jack a property deed, "and leave that property to the town."
"Excuse me, ma'am," says Jack, "but if I'm going to do business with you, I'd like to know who you are."
"Please forgive me," says the woman. "I'm so frustrated over this shit that I done forgot my manners. My name," says the woman, "is Mary Jane Foley. My church wants to purchase the plantation for ministry work."
"Ministry work", scoffs Vlad silently. The damn place needs an exorcism. Vlad notes the check. And so all I need to do is convince my good lummox to take the money and run like hell.
"This...is quite a bit of cash, Mrs. Foley," says Jack.
Vlad cuts in, pulling Jack aside. "Jack: it's just an old Southern plantation. These kind people want to preserve their heritage," he continues, snatching the check out of Jack's hands, "and will pay you handsomely for the opportunity."
"I'm not taking church money from a little old lady," says Jack, taking back the check.
Mary Jane shakes her head at the two men.
Jack approaches Mary Jane, returning the check. "I-* he begins."
"Hang on! Excuse me, Ms. Mary Jane," says a young sandy-haired man wearing a Texas A & M T-shirt and khaki shorts. He pulls a blank check out of his pocket.
Mary Jane gives the newcomer an exasperated look.
Jack blinks at the young man. "Shouldn't you be playing Nintendo, kid?" he asks.
"Sold mine," says the young man, grabbing Jack's hand and pulling him aside as he presents the blank check to Jack. "Anyway, my name's Shane Baxter."
"I know," says Jack. "You've sent me so many letters," he adds with a grin, "so it's good to meet you in the flesh."
"Good to meet you too, Mr. Fenton," says Shane. "Now, look: whatever she's payin', I'll pay double!"
Vlad's ears perk at Shane's words. "May I hold this, Mrs. Foley?" he asks Mary Jane.
"Yes," says Mary Jane. "Please convince your friend to sell the plantation."
"Oh, I intend to," says Vlad.
Just as Jack starts to open his mouth, Vlad cuts in, showing Shane the check.
Shane gives Jack an obstinate pout. "All the more reason why you need to let me pay double," he says. "You ain't takin' Ms. Mary Jane's money away from her church."
"I don't want to take her money," says Jack, equally-obstinate, "or yours."
"What do I need money for?" fumes Shane.
"You need yours for college, man!" scoffs Jack. "Texas A & M can't be cheap."
"I'm on a full football scholarship and two academic scholarships," grins Shane.
"He's on a gravy train!" hisses Vlad to Jack. "You're not taking money from him at all. Let him buy it!"
"Mrs. Foley offered three million for the place. I doubt this kid's piggy bank seriously has six million in it," says Jack.
Two young black people, a young man with a moustache and a young woman, approach the group.
The woman shoves Shane aside. "Move the hell out the way, Shane!" she spits.
"Bethea, no!" fumes Shane. "I've got this covered. My dad's backing the money."
"Put that shit towards your books, boy," pouts Bethea. "The Grays are going to buy this place."
The young man sighs. "My name's Damon: Damon Gray," he says, presenting a check. "My cousin Bethea and I," Damon continues, "are conducting genealogical research."
"And you're willing to pay $15 million for it?" asks Jack, skepticism in his voice.
"You can't put a price tag on history," says Damon, calm yet tense. "For me, I'm just paying my ancestors back for their sacrifices...to set them free."
"One of the reasons why I don't want to sell-*" starts Jack.
"Spare me the white guilt, dude," says Damon. "You look like your ancestor," he continues, "but the resemblance ends there."
"Wait!" says Shane, still holding his blank check. "Bethea, Damon, Ms. Mary Jane: huddle up!"
Jack and Vlad stare at the group, confused.
"Listen," says Shane. "We're all aimin' to do the same thing, so-*"
"Hell, no, Shane!" fumes Bethea. "You know damn well that the Grays need to buy Barrineau Plantation."
"Calm down, Bethea," says Damon.
"No, Damon," counters Bethea. "We need this land more than anybody else up in here-we're the only ones with the tools to-*"
"Shush! Don't go scarin' that white boy," hisses Mary Jane. "Let the church buy the damn property."
"Ms. Mary Jane, with all due respect," says Damon, "we can handle this ourselves."
"I been collectin' offerin' for this property since before you chilin' was born-over forty-five years of hard-working black folk cleanin' crackers' houses to save every penny!" spits Mary Jane, heated. "I'll be damned if I'm goin' to let y'all chilin' spend all y'all money when I did all this."
"Okay, Ms. Mary Jane," says Shane. "How much is three, plus six, plus fifteen?"
Mary Jane sighs. "Twenty-four, Shane-boy," she says. "You could've just pulled out your calculator for that."
"The way I figure it," says Shane, "that's the best way to get Mr. Fenton to sell us the property without any questions-especially since that skinny nerd with him clearly wants Mr. Fenton to take the money and run," he adds wryly, nodding towards Vlad.
"You want us to pool our money together on this," says Bethea.
"Yeah," says Shane, "because we all want the damn plantation for the same thing."
"You mean you ain't just trying to annex Barrineau's place onto the farm?" quips Mary Jane.
"Ms. Mary Jane," says Shane, glowering, "please: don't even joke. I don't want that place to ever become a part of my family's farm."
"Take it easy, Shane," says Damon. "We're with you."
"Yeah," adds Bethea. "That's a good idea. It okay with you, Ms. Mary Jane?"
Mary Jane nods. "Good to see a Baxter man usin' his head," she says.
"I'm gonna work my brain hard, ma'am," says Shane. "I'll do whatever it takes to save my farm."
"We'll lift you up in prayer, Shane," says Bethea, smiling. "Now let's get that big jackass cracker to sell us the farm."
"Twenty-six...?" hisses Vlad. "That's a two, a six, and six zeroes...!"
"I can count, Vlad," says Jack stonily.
"Yeah," says a small, balding man in glasses with large gray eyes, standing outside a red POINDEXTER HARDWARE truck. "A penny for the property, and the rest of it's to pay you to keep all of this quiet."
"Normally, I would haggle," Vlad whispers to Jack, "but that's a hell of a lot of money."
"Makes me wonder why everyone's willing to pay so much for it," says Jack.
"Southern heritage, Jack!" says Vlad. "Money is no object when it comes to heritage."
"You ain't gettin' a better offer," says the small man.
Shane approaches the group, then notes the man. "Mr. Poindexter," he groans. "We're about to make an offer."
"It ain't gonna beat Pa's, Baxter," says a teenager with glasses in the back of the pickup truck.
"Shut up, Sid," snorts Shane.
Mary Jane snatches Poindexter's check, then beckons to Poindexter. "Come here," she demands.
Poindexter approaches Mary Jane. "Mrs. Foley," he says crisply, "I don't pretend to understand what you and Baxter are doin'."
"You got all that book sense, but no damn common sense," spits Mary Jane. "Listen here: we gonna put all our money together."
Poindexter touches his chin a moment. "We're fixin' to give that damn Yankee that much money?" he balks.
"That way, Fenton won't ask a lot of questions," says Shane.
"That'd be if Fenton were rock-stupid," hisses Poindexter. "Problem is, Fenton's a college man-he's smarter than he looks. If I were sittin' where he sits," he continues, "then I'd wonder why we're throwin' so much cash at him."
"Because it's a wiser investment than puttin' it in the town," says Shane, "at least until we can solve the problem at the plantation."
"They'll just think we're a bunch of crazy-ass preservationists who want to preserve our cultural heritage," snorts Mary Jane.
"This ain't Savannah, Atlanta, or Charleston, South Carolina!" spits Poindexter. "We ain't got any decent history in our town to preserve except for Baxter Farm."
"We done ruled out all of the empirical causes for our town's problems, Mr. Poindexter," adds Bethea.
"There ain't no such thing as ghosts," says Poindexter, "and no such things as curses."
"Then just treat this as just one more 'stupid' thing to rule out before we bring in proper experts," says Damon.
"Fine," says Poindexter. "I'll pool in with you."
Shane grins; the group approaches Jack and Vlad.
Jack stares at the check from Shane in disbelief, blinking at the face value of the check.
"Why question this bounty?" balks Vlad. "These are honest, clean-dealing people who believe in handshakes as a valid contract. That kind of salt-of-the-earth ethos is right up your alley."
"Vlad," says Jack, "there's more to life than money."
"Granted, but fifty million is a lot of money to walk away from," says Vlad.
"I'd do it with a smile on my face and a song in my heart," says Jack, "knowing my conscience is clear."
Vlad sighs, turning his back to Jack.
Jack studies Vlad.
After a moment, Vlad whips around to face Jack.
"I doubt that you've given up on this," says Jack, resigned.
"Just hear me out, you lummox," says Vlad, annoyed.
Jack shakes his head.
"Jack," Vlad continues, "how much do you think Barrineau Plantation is worth now?"
"Honestly? About a hundred grand," says Jack. "It's solid real estate, but nothing's really special about it except for the lake; it really was built over an ancient Cherokee burial ground. That nets another hundred grand for it. But I can't sell it to these good people."
"Then sell it to me! I'll give you 300G's for it," grins Vlad.
"That's most of your Sullivan's Island cash, V-man," says Jack.
"Bah-what are friends for?" says Vlad. "Besides, once the property's mine, I'll sell the property to these people."
"Forget it, Vlad," says Jack. "I'm not going to cheat them."
"See, Jack: that's why you need to sell to me!" says Vlad. "I'll happily 'cheat' them: I don't have your stupid scruples tying me down."
"Damn it-listen to me!" spits Jack, struggling to keep his temper in check. "I won't sell that shit property to you or anybody-and I'll tell them why I won't." Jack walks away from Vlad and heads to the rental van.
Grimacing, Vlad hands the check to Shane.
Early the next morning, Jack finishes assembling video recording equipment.
"Thanks for the AV stuff, Sid," grins Jack.
Sid sighs. "You're...welcome," he says. "Don't see the point of it, but Baxter twisted my arm."
Shane smirks at Sid.
"Ain't no point to your secrecy," snorts Poindexter. "Half the town knows about your stupid porn habit."
Sid blushes. "Pa!" he whines.
"Look, Sidney: you're a grown man, eighteen years of age," says Poindexter. "Nobody gives a shit what you do now, as long as you don't drag any kids in your bedroom with you."
"I-I wouldn't do that, Pa!" stammers Sid. "What's a little girl gonna do for me?"
"My point is that you can't keep lettin' Baxter blackmail you for stupid shit," says Poindexter.
"If there's any 'blackmail' involved, Mr. Poindexter," scoffs Shane, "it's because nobody else at school could use the AV equipment-on account of the fact that up until now, Sid's had it all locked up in his room so he can watch his jerkoff material."
Vlad grins at Sid. "I like the way he thinks," he whispers to Jack.
"Naturally, V-man: it's the way you think," Jack says to Vlad.
"To be fair, though," continues Poindexter, "making homemade porno videos is a more productive use of public property than filming peach trees." He gives Jack a pointed, skeptical look.
"Mr. Poindexter," says Jack, "I'm a scientist, first and foremost. I'm about to tell you all why I'm not selling Barrineau Plantation," he continues, "and my reason will be impossible for anyone to accept without evidence."
"Evidence...? Of what...?" mutters the group.
"I refuse to sell any of you the insurmountable burden of this haunted property," says Jack flatly. "However, I'll work hard: once I've located the chief ghost causing the problems here, the other ghosts will leave the plantation on their own."
Mary Jane, Bethea, and Damon glance at each other. Shane stares at Jack in disbelief.
"There ain't no such things as ghosts!" shout the members of the Poindexter clan in unison.
"I've gathered a great deal of data which appears to indicate the contrary," says Jack, calm. "However, I acknowledge that there may be undesirable bias on my part, and that I could be wrong. Thus," he continues, "I want to conduct an experiment, related to the peach orchard."
"Why the peach orchard?" asks Vlad. "There's nothing supernatural about it or the trees."
"The peach orchard is the easiest way for me to validate my conclusion," says Jack, handing out copies of a paper.
Vlad studies the paper. Oh, come on, Jack! he fumes silently. This is just Maddie's sophomore term paper on enchanted plants.
Poindexter thumbs through the paper. "At least it's got real sources I can check when I go to Atlanta," he says. "This Madeline gal's pretty sharp."
"Of the three of us, she's the sharpest," grins Jack.
"Then why ain't she here to back you up?" asks Bethea.
"She's staying at the motel," says Jack.
"How are we handling this experiment, Mr. Fenton?" asks Shane.
"Everyone who's able-bodied is going to help me pick these peaches," says Jack. "Once that's done, then a designated observer will stay up all night to note what happens with the trees."
"I'll do it!" says Shane.
"How you gonna stay up all night?" scoffs Bethea.
"God gave man Mountain Dew for this purpose," grins Shane.
"There ain't nothin' biblical about that shit there, Shane-boy," says Mary Jane.
"Course it ain't," crows Poindexter. "It makes too much sense."
Vlad sighs. "Let's just get this over with," he says, grabbing a bushel basket.
The next evening, Poindexter scratches his balding dome. "I'm...not sure how to take this," he says.
"Take it how you want, Mr. Poindexter," says Jack. "I can't, in good conscience, sell you Barrineau Plantation."
"All you've proven definitively," says Poindexter, "is that the trees are weird."
"Mr. Poindexter," says Shane. "I ain't doubtin' my own eyes, and you shouldn't doubt yours. We all saw the baskets full-up with peaches, but there's peach blossoms on the trees."
"It's a peach tree, Mr. Baxter!" balks Poindexter.
"That blossoms overnight!?" counters Shane.
"You're still perked up by too much Mountain Dew!" spits Poindexter.
"But the videotape backs Shane up," says Damon.
"Bah," says Vlad. "Jack could have doctored the tape while Shane was watching the trees and the rest of us were asleep."
"I was handcuffed to you, and you were handcuffed to the van," says Jack dourly, "because you want me to sell the plantation even more than the townsfolk do. If I even tried to move," Jack continues, "you'd be the first to know about it."
"I'm a scientist too," says Damon, "who's also studying the paranormal. The results of the experiment are clear-cut."
Jack sighs. "I guess we'll be on our way then," he says.
"No," says Damon. "Frankly, most of us don't give a shit if it's haunted or not. We want the property."
"I won't sell it," says Jack.
Shane glowers at the floor.
"When I get rid of the chief ghost," Jack continues, "I'll sell it to you for-*"
"Fifty million dollars-and not a penny less," says Vlad curtly, storming out of the house at Baxter Farm.
"Please forgive him..." says Jack. "And save your cash." He follows Vlad out.
The next day, back at their dorm room, Vlad hooks up a VCR to his television.
"At least we're finally speaking, Vlad," says Jack.
"You...mystify me, Jack," says Vlad, tense.
"Because I'm not entranced by magic green paper?" snorts Jack. He takes out his wallet and pulls out five twenty dollar bills, then tosses them at Vlad.
"While I'm more than happy to prove the adage that 'a fool and his money are soon parted'," says Vlad, "has it occurred to you that I wasn't simply being a greedy asshole when I was strongly hinting that you should have taken the money? Fifty million dollars, by the way?"
Jack is silent.
"Those people knew, believed, or at least acknowledged the rumors that Barrineau Plantation was haunted the whole time, you know," continues Vlad. "Otherwise, the resident town atheist would not have pooled in twenty-six million to give to a pair of 'damn Yankees'."
Jack nods. "I know," he says. "I also know when you're scared shitless-and that it's connected to me." He turns on the television, then puts a tape in the VCR.
Vlad raises the volume on the television. Both he and Jack watch the video.
Seven minutes in, Jack pauses the video. "I guess the asshole's trying to be a sport," he says wryly, noting that Jackie's video image stares directly at the camera as Maddie in-video walks away.
Vlad sighs. "If he had tried to impersonate you," he says, "your wedding would have been off. But this raises a bigger problem."
"I'm going to fight him," says Jack, determined.
"You are not equipped to fight that!" spits Vlad. "No one is!"
Jack stares at Vlad.
"Look, you stupid bastard," continues Vlad. "I'm supposed to be your friend, right?"
Jack nods.
"That means I'm supposed to keep you from getting yourself killed stupidly!" says Vlad, heated. "Neither you, or I-especially not with our shitty ghost gear-is capable of containing a ghost that can leave its main haunt," he continues, "which your ancestor is clearly capable of doing."
Jack rubs his temples.
Vlad resumes the video. "Just look at him-licking his chops at Maddie like a starving carnivore who stumbled in the middle of an open meat market!" he seethes. "And you say there's more video of Jackie?"
"Yeah," says Jack. "And it's even worse than you think. You probably think of him as my evil twin."
Vlad pulls out a pair of Jack's boxer shorts from his own dresser drawer. "He could fit these!" Vlad fumes.
"Both of our mothers died giving birth to us," says Jack tonelessly. "Both of us were moody, lonely teenagers who stuck out from the crowd like a sore thumb. And both of us had a stringy relative who died when we were young."
"Your dad shot himself, Jack," says Vlad gravely. "That maniac," he continues, "literally crucified his older brother-and murdered his father and sister."
"I verbally crucified my dad, who was emotionally-labile and sheltered," says Jack curtly, guilt in his eyes.
"You mook," counters Vlad. "You aren't responsible for your parents' deaths. You're the most decent man I know," he continues, "and you are nothing like that piece of foul shit hardening in your family tree."
"Except that he's my ancestor," says Jack dourly, "and without him, I don't exist."
"You're talking to the guy who's a bastard descendant of fucking Dracula-the real one whose deeds were far more heinous than anything in Bram Stoker's doorstopper," counters Vlad, rolling his eyes at his Hammer Dracula movie poster.
"But at least Vlad Tepes was more or less one of the good guys in history," snorts Jack. "He simply cribbed his cruelty from his captors during the Crusades. What was Jack Barrineau's excuse for being an evil bastard even by the low standards of slaveholders at the time?" he asks soberly.
Vlad studies Jack.
"That's something I've got to find out," Jack continues, "and to do that, I've got to beat him."
"You...are on your own," says Vlad after a moment. "I would not be any help you," he continues, "and my final bit of advice to you is for you to leave this shit to the locals!"
Jack sighs. "I have to protect Maddie," he says, grim.
Vlad shakes his head.
"Maddie is going to marry me soon," Jack continues, "which means she's already part of my family: I'll do whatever it takes to protect my family."
Vlad winces.
"You're part of my family, too, V-man," Jack says, placing a hand on Vlad's shoulder. "You're like a brother to me."
"Are you okay with the fact that I want to sit out this particular ghost hunt?" asks Vlad.
"Don't worry; I'll handle Jackie alone: Fenton to Barrineau," says Jack. "Maybe I can reason with him, but if not...then I'll find a way to stop him."
NEXT: In A. D. 200x, ghost war was beginning...!