That whole river ghost got a little intense yesterday. I’m going to lighten it up today — though we may revisit Skip another time.

 

“Oh, goddamn it!” Skip exclaimed as he turned the Sheriff’s Explorer off the highway and started threading past the two news vans. Lights already flashing, he blipped his siren startling the reporter talking to the deputy at the gate. The reporter scurried away as Skip inched the SUV forward and the deputy who was already opening the long gate to let Skip through. He lowered the window as he came abreast of the deputy, “Hey Eddy. When did the damn reporters get here?”

“About five minutes ago, Sheriff.”

“That was fast,” Skip shook his head, “I wonder if the family called them before 911.” He smiled wryly. “Well, just keep ‘em back. Thanks Eddy.” Skip started forward over the rutted dirt path leading across an open field and into a line of redwood trees. Evening gloam had fallen, and the flashing of parked emergency vehicles shone from beyond the tree line. He parked the Explorer next to a CHP Charger and stepped out into chaos.

Two deputies stood consoling an older woman wailing uncontrollably along with a younger woman and man. The county’s Light and Air rig, positioned as close as they could to the river as they could get, had its boom deployed with its enormous halogen lights shining down the river vividly illuminating half a dozen deputies and volunteers splashing along both banks in hip waders, probing the shallows with long poles. Electronic, strident, nigh-unintelligible police radio chatter punctuated the background hum of idling diesel engines, both utterly overwhelmed by the roar of the police helicopter making passes up and down the river, hyper-white spotlight playing across the murky green-brown water. Deputies, CHP officers, paramedics, and bystanders crisscrossed from beach to tree-line, to cars, back to beach. The area outside the penetrating light of the Light Air Rig’s elevated spots splashed with irregular red and blush flashes from the parked emergency vehicles.

Skip had expected the chaos – he’d set almost all of this in motion as soon as he got the call from 911 dispatch. This was also the third time in as many months this scene had played out. He took a steadying breath, adjusted his equipment belt, and stepped forward into the near-pandemonium, making a beeline for the Chief Deputy. “Hey Andy, what’s the sitrep?” Skip didn’t use terms like “sitrep,” but Andy preferred such terminology and skip knew that Andy would be more at ease orchestrating this scene if Skip used military terminology.

“Sheriff Barnes,” Andy stopped walking towards the lieutenant managing the waders. “No body so far. I’ve got two divers on stand-by waiting on your word.”

“When did he go in the water?”

Andy snapped his watch up to his face, “two hours, thirty-four minutes ago,” he said and then added, “roughly.”

Skip shook his head, “Call ‘em off. It’s too dark. If they haven’t found him yet they’re not going to find him until tomorrow at the earliest.”

“Roger, wilco,” Andy said.

“In fact, have lieutenant Riggs call the waders back in. They’re done for the night.” As Andy turned and sucked in a breath to call out over the distance to Riggs, Skip put a hand on the man’s shoulder and hastily added, “discretely, Andy, please.” Andy turned enough to acknowledge the request before hurrying down to meet Riggs at the water’s edge.

Skip zeroed in on a Fish and Game officer, black jacket zipped tight in the growing chill, watching the helicopter, alternately speaking into a handheld radio and listening expectantly for a response. “Yours?” Skip gestured to the helicopter now far enough down river to make conversation levels reasonable. She nodded. “Send it off for the night,” he said. The officer looked at him for a beat, then spoke into the radio. Both watched as the helicopter paused downriver, pirouetted midair, then started back up river, its spotlight winking out as it crossed their position on the bank and sped up river into the near-dark sky. “Thanks, Julie,” he said as the helicopter’s roar faded. I may call you tomorrow.”

She nodded. “Good luck, Skip,” she said over her shoulder as she started back towards the treeline.

Without the helicopter, the wails of the woman and, presumably, the family, sounded more pronounced. Skip was already moving in their direction. One of the deputies talking with the family spotted Skip, nodded to the other officer, and crossed to intercept Skip. “Hey Sheriff,” she said.

“The family?” he nodded towards the wailing woman.

“Wife, cousin, cousin’s son.”

“What are they saying?”

She flipped open her notepad, reading, “Approximately 4:15 Mateo Ortiz waded into the river after a soccer ball, slipped, went down into the water and didn’t come up. They called 911 after about ten minutes of searching.”

“Witnesses?” She cocked her head at him in a, what do you think? gesture. Skip was well aware of the fear among the undocumented Hispanic community out here that any contact with law enforcement would lead to deportation. Even among documented and native Latinos, they didn’t want to deal with any anticipated questioning. He was used to it, but it still annoyed him. Skip didn’t give a crap about documentation and this fear just got in the way of his investigations. It’s the world we live in, he thought. “Anything else?”

“The wife keeps saying he didn’t slip. ‘Serpiente!’ ‘Vibora!’ ‘Culebra!’”

“Goddamnit,” Skip cursed under his breath. “The snake thing again, Leslie?” he said quietly.

“Don’t shoot the messenger, Skip.”

“Did he know how to swim?”

“No.”

“Then no snake necessary.”

“You know I agree, Skip…” she paused. “If you like the snake, the cousin swears she saw La Llorona when they first got there in the shade by the tree right by where Mateo Ortiz went in.”

“You’re shitting me,” he stared at her. “Phantom snakes, the crying woman, Jesus Christ, what’s next?

“No, he hasn’t made appearance, but who knows? Round up some witnesses…”

Skip looked at her with an arched eyebrow, then he sighed, and they both started towards the family.

An hour later the family had departed, as had almost all of the emergency vehicles. The Light and Air rig had shut off its lights and retracted its boom and was now carefully making its way through the tree towards the road. Skip stared out at the river, placidly silver with reflected moonlight.

“Hey Jack,” a voice came out of the darkness.

Skip recognized it immediately, “Hey Timothy. Circus is over for the night, my Magical Pomo Friend.”

“I’m not here for that, my White Oppressor,” he said, his figure resolving in the moonlight. He brandished a fishing pole and tackle box. “It’s a full moon. I was coming down here to catch bass. Looks like it was a useless walk, with everyone stirring up the river.”

The last cruiser pulled up alongside them. “Stopping by the substation, Skip?” Leslie asked from the open window.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll be there in a bit.”

“Where’s Milo?

“Probably at home chewing on my slippers for not feeding him yet.”

“Want me to pick him up?”

“Thanks, Leslie,” Skip smiled.

“You bet, Skip. See you in a bit. Hey Timothy!” she said and started up towards the road.

“Hey,” Timothy called back. The car disappeared and the night settled on the two men. “Say, Jack, why do they call you ‘Skip’?”

“I never told you?” Timothy shook his head. “During the flood, a few years back that house by Monte Rio flooded and caught fire. No one was dumb enough to get out in the zodiac and we couldn’t get down to them from the road. So, I launched the boat myself.”

“Ah, skipper.”

“Yeah, I guess it caught on.”

“Clearly.” Timothy set his fishing gear down and leaned up against the front of the Explorer next to Skip. “Another drowning?”

“Yeah.”

“Shabaikai is hungry this summer.”

“Shabby-what?” Skip looked at the man in profile.

“Shabaikai. The name my people had for the river. It means ‘great snake.’”

“For all the twists and turns?”

“That’s what we told your people,” Timothy said with a wry smile.

“Okay, not because of the serpentine shape. What then?”

“It’s a long story,” Timothy started, stopped, chuckled, then continued, “and it’s actually a lot better when my people do it as a dance. But the short version is that the river is a live snake ever wriggling towards the sea. If you listen to some people speak they’ll tell you the snake drinks its fill in wet years, but when winter rains don’t slake its thirst in the winter it takes its sustenance in the summer.”

“By drowning people?”

“It’s just a story,” Timothy said. “A story passed down for longer than your people have been killing my people off, but, hey, just a story.”

“Ghost river snake…” Skip shrugged, “I’ve heard stranger. It’d explain why the witnesses report seeing a snake… and how we could lose people in 3 feet of calm water.” They both stood in the darkness listening to crickets, the occasional hoot of an owl, and the muffled whoosh of a car passing on the highway beyond the tree line. “Give you a ride?”

“Only if I can sit in front – people talk!”

Skip dropped Timothy off on his way to the substation. Leslie and Milo were waiting at the station when Skip got there. He got a jump on the mountain of paperwork and started preparations for the morning, but decided burning the midnight oil tonight wasn’t worth it. He gathered his dog and they both headed home.

Letting Milo in ahead of him he closed the door and turned off the porch light Leslie had left on for him when she picked Milo up. In the kitchen, he poured himself a tall glass of water and drank half of it in one draught. He started at the glass, then took out another glass and pulled the Bulleit bourbon out of the cabinet, poured two fingers and downed it in one long pull. He thought about Mateo Ortiz in the river… and poured himself another two fingers. He drank this pour more slowly, and by the time the glass was dry he was feeling the softening edge in his head. He looked at the bottle and considered another pour, decided against it, and finished his water instead. Putting the bottle back in the cabinet, he didn’t turn on any lights walking gingerly in the dark. He did manage to strip out of his uniform before he laid down, but sleep claimed him quickly. He had hoped the whiskey would let him sleep dreamlessly, but he wasn’t so lucky.

He found himself in the clearing by the river, looking at the line of trees, foreboding in the moonlight. He heard crying from the direction of the river and he started forward only to realize he was only in his boxers. His bare feet on the cold wet brush concerned him more than the lack of clothes. Nonetheless he made his way quickly to the tree line, and the crying got louder. He crossed beyond the trees moving more quickly than he knew was reasonable and saw the glowing figure in white by the river’s edge. Mateo’s widow? He thought as he approached. Her body wracked with sobs. “Mrs. Ortiz?” he heard himself say as he reached out to touch her shoulder.

The woman turned, her face a distended mask of grief and terror. “Ay, mis hijos!” she howled. Her cry consumed him. He stared into her face helpless to move, trapped in her scream and unnatural face. He felt himself being drawn into that face, his grip on reality loosening by degrees. “Mis hijos!” she cried and he felt himself floating, bobbing up and down… he reached up and touched his face. His hand was wet. He moved his head and realized he was floating in the river. He stared up at the bone white full moon high in the sky, so much like… No, no, it was the moon. Why was he floating? How had he gotten into the river. The river… Shabaikai. The snake. He started at that thought, flailing a little in the water before he lay still and floated calmly again. He turned his head gingerly and noticed the silvery light catch something in the water. He turned more in the water to get a better look and came face to face with the pale, bloated face of Mateo Ortiz beneath the surface of the water. He flailed, straining to get away from the body. He realized in a panic he wasn’t making any headway. Looking down to see why his feet weren’t moving, he saw the surface of the river erupt into the head of a serpent. In that moment, he stared at the glittering eyes like gold in a streambed, the form of its head coursed and pulsed, but it opened its mouth to reveal two alabaster fangs dripping with river water. Without time to react, the river snake, Shabaikai, clamped down on his right leg, the fangs piercing deeply while its powerful lower jaw clamped the fangs in place.

Skip jerked up in bed, panting, sweat covering his body. No, he sniffed his wet arm and recalled the briny scent of river water. “The hell?” he said aloud. He moved to get to his feet, but sucked in a breath from a pain in his leg. Flipping on the light on the nightstand he looked down at his bare leg. On top were two dark, quarter size bruises. He rotated his leg and saw an equally dark bruise in an arc on the bottom of his leg.

“No, I don’t believe in ghosts.”

Damn, Maria thought trying to outwardly hide her disappointment. He’s so cute!

“Wait, do you?” he asked.

“What?” she dodged, “How’s your steak?”

“Not bad, not bad,” he said nodding vigorously. “I mean, you know, I’ve had better, but…” At the end of the night he walked her to her car and tried kiss her but she bobbed and weaved out of the path of his lips.

“I had a great time,” she said as she hurriedly opened the door and started inside. “Thanks!” Door closed, car started, pulling away from the curb with Tight Tshirt still standing dumbfounded at how his date managed to elude his laser-guided seduction.

Maria sighed as she sped through the yellow light, putting that much more distance between her and another bad date. “Well, crap,” she said aloud.

“What did you expect?” The response came from the empty back seat.

Maria used the rear view mirror to make eye contact with the black haired woman in the back seat. “Is it too much to ask to find a cute guy with an open mind?”

“The way you’re finding these boys, yes, it’s too much to ask!”

“The way I… you mean online dating?”

“It’s just crazy. I don’t understand how you think that can even work!”

“Tina, just because you died before AOL was around, don’t hate the technology.”

“Don’t you call me old!” The woman in the back seat admonished. “I’m… experienced, that’s all. And, trust me, you’re not going to find the man of your dreams on the intra…webs-whatever.”

Maria smiled to herself at Tina’s lack of tech-savvy. “Will you move up here, I’m getting a kink in my neck talking to you back there,” she said as she took her purse from the passenger seat and moved it to the vacated back seat.

“Look, I’m just saying,” Tina started from the passenger seat, “that’s not how you’re going to find love.”

“Oh, please enlighten me!”

“You’re going to find your man by happenstance. A chance encounter, your eyes meet, and you just know…” Tina’s eyes went a little glassy as she spoke.

“Okay, so clearly when you die you have unlimited time to watch Hallmark movies. Got it.”

Tina jabbed at Maria’s shoulder, but her hand passed right into the woman.

“Ouch! That stings. Tell me, T, does this man I mysteriously encounter help me save the town’s orphanage? Or is it just the family Christmas tree farm?”

“You brat,” Tina laughed. “You’re the one who leaves the TV on during the day.”

“And you’re the one who manipulates the remote to find that sap!”

“It took me years to figure out how to do that,” Tina exclaimed.

“I’ve heard of misspent youth, but this is the first instance I’ve heard of misspent death.”

“Bitch!” Tina cursed with a laugh.

“Ghoul!”

“Meat sack!”

“Wraith!”

“Air breather!”

“Casper!”

“Un-undead!”

“Un-undead? That’s new,” Tina laughed.

“Well, you know, you can teach the dead new tricks.”

“I guess so,” Tina smiled. The silence stretched several city blocks before Tina smiled sadly, “I miss you, Tina.”

“Don’t start, M.”

“No, I’m serious. I need a hug right now. And – nothing personal – but your hugs hurt like hell now.”

“Not my fault,” Tina said shaking her head.

“I know… I know.” Another block of streetlights blurred past. Maria clicked on the blinker, which sounded artificially loud in the silence as she slowed for the right turn. “So, going back… how do I know if a guy is right? I mean, you know, Ryan was sweet…”

“Ryan… Ryan…. Oh, wait, no. Just no.”

“What was wrong with Ryan?”

“Do you remember his answer to whether he believed in ghosts?” Maria giggled but remained silent. “M? You remember… What did he say?”

“’You mean,’” she affected a faux-man’s voice, “’Like, ghosting a chick? Not talking to her?’”

“Real thinker there, M.”

“Come on, Tina. I love you, sis, but maybe there isn’t a guy out there that will, you know…”

“Say it,” Tina coaxed.

“…See you.”

“See me? How about believe I exist? I’d settle for that. Because we’ve both agreed I’m not going anywhere, so what? ‘It’s okay, honey, I just talk to empty air all the time.’”

“That’d be awkward.”

“Yeah.”

“Look, I’ll give up the online dating, but that leaves… I don’t know… Shit!!” Maria cursed as her rearview mirror filled with flashing red and blue lights.

“Oh crap! What’d you do, M?!”

“I don’t know!” She pulled over and rolled down her window. “Stay quiet, Tina.”

“Like he’s going to hear me!”

“Shh!” Maria admonished as she saw the cop get out of his car and approach the driver’s side window.

“Good evening, ladies,” he started.

“Umm,” Maria froze… ladies? Did he say ladies?

Tina must have picked up on Maria’s hesitation because she tested the waters, “Good evening, officer!”

“Ma’am,” he nodded to Tina. Turning back to Maria, “Did you know the registration sticker on your license plate is expired?”

“Uh… umm, no, I mean yes, I mean… no… I mean, Ihaveitandforgottoputiton,” she said in a hurried breath.

He chuckled. That’s a cute chuckle, Maria thought.

“Officer,” Tina started, “I know this is totally off the subject, but are you single? I’m asking for a friend,” Maria winked theatrically and pointed at Maria who was staring at the cop.

He chuckled again and Maria thought she caught a blush. This is very un-cop-like. “Well, ma’am –”

“Tina. And this is Maria – she was about to give you her license… and phone number.”

“Tina!” Maria hissed. “I’m sorry about my friend, officer…”

“Martin. Officer Martin Hayes. And… yeah, this is a bit awkward,” he smiled at Maria. “I ran your plate. You’re clear – just remember to put that sticker on there.”

“I’m sorry, Officer Hayes. I will as soon as I get home.

“Sounds good. But, uh, if that phone number option was serious…”

“You two are totally going to save an orphanage,” Tina whispered.