The Ghosts Of New Orleans (A PARANORMAL RESEARCH AND CONTAINMENT DIVISION (PRCD) CASE FILE) Read Online Free PDF Page A

Eloise cupped her hands over her ears, trying to block out the
sound.  She could feel she was losing her struggle and fought harder to gain
control. 
    She was no longer on the beach in Louisiana.  She was back on the small
island in the Pacific.  The villager had her by the arm and was pulling her
towards the water.  The water was no longer calm, no beautiful sunset awaited
her – the sea was dark and stormy and she knew instinctively if she entered the
water, she would lose her soul. 
    She struggled against his pull, grounding her heels into the sand, but
slowly he drew her forward.  She watched in horror as the sea started to rise
and the wave began to move towards them.  She tried to scream, tried to fight –
but he was winning.
    A blast of music shot through her mind. She dropped to the ground as she
was instantly released from the evil presence. Opening her eyes, she found
herself staring into two very concerned faces.
    “How did you…” she began.
    Sergeant Turner smiled sheepishly.
    “Well, ma’am, I’m a Mormon boy from Briggs, Idaho.  And I figured if the
Mormon Tabernacle Choir singing the Hallelujah Chorus couldn’t scare away the
devil, I reckoned nothing could.”
    Eloise chuckled, too weak to even lift herself up.
    “Well, Sergeant, I believe you were right.”
    She started to lift herself off the ground, but found that her body
wouldn’t respond. A moment later, Sergeant Anderson was at her side, trying to
lift her up.
    “Sergeant Anderson,” she exclaimed in the sternest tone she could muster.
“I will be fine in a moment.”
    “Begging your pardon, ma’am, but you just got the sh--, I mean the stuff
kicked out of you by an unfriendly.  I know I don’t understand all that you do,
but I know that it took balls to face a bunch of dead people on a dark beach at
night.  So, if you think me helping you to the Humvee is going make you look
weak or something – you gotta know that me and Sergeant Turner, well we  ain’t
questioning your balls at all, ma’am, not at all.”
    Before she could think of how to respond, Sergeant Anderson scooped her
into his brawny arms and carefully placed her in the back of the Humvee. “We’ll
take you back to your base, ma’am,” he said softly. “I think we’ve accomplished
enough tonight.”
    She smiled gratefully at him.  “Thank you, Sergeant. That would be great.”
    “Ma’am, I want to apologize,” Sergeant Turner said earnestly, looking
over the back of his seat.
    “No, need to apologize, Sergeant,” Eloise said. “You two saved my life.”
    “The new Major would have killed us if we let something happen to you,”
Sergeant Turner.
    Sergeant Anderson turned sharply and elbowed Sergeant Turner.
    “Oh! Sorry. I forgot,” Sergeant Turner mumbled.
    “Well, please thank your Major for his concern,” Eloise said, before
laying her head back and resting.

Chapter Four
    Eloise rolled over and looked at her alarm clock. The digital numbers
showed eight o’clock.
    “Crap, why didn’t my alarm go off?” she muttered, tossing the light
blanket aside. As she moved, she felt light-headed and unsteady.  
    “What in the world?” she wondered and then remembered her encounter the
night before. 
    She leaned on the dresser and closed her eyes for a moment. She was going
to have to figure out what was attacked her and how she was going to deal with
it if it happened again. But first she was going to go into the kitchen and
pull out her headache cure-all, a Diet Pepsi.
    She left the bedroom wearing only her oversized t-shirt that skimmed the
tops of her thighs.  Her hair was loose and mussed, her feet bare.  She padded
down the hallway and stopped short when she saw the uniformed man dozing in the
computer chair, his feet propped up on the desk.
    She slowly walked closer, her heart thudding.  Her mind couldn’t believe
what her eyes were insisting.
     Two steps away from her was Major Paul Grimes of the United States Marine
Corps.