A Ghostly Ride in Gulfport (Gulf Coast Paranormal Book 10)

  A Ghostly Ride in Gulfport

  Book Ten

  Gulf Coast Paranormal Series

  By M.L. Bullock

  Text copyright © 2018 M.L. Bullock

  All rights reserved

  Dedication

  For anyone who runs from clowns.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue—Buddy McKay

  Chapter One—Cassidy Wright

  Chapter Two—Cassidy

  Chapter Three—Benjamin Pettis

  Chapter Four—Cassidy

  Chapter Five—Midas

  Chapter Six—Benjamin

  Chapter Seven—Cassidy

  Chapter Eight—Jocelyn

  Chapter Nine—Midas

  Chapter Ten—Sierra

  Chapter Eleven—Cassidy

  Chapter Twelve—Benjamin

  Chapter Thirteen—Midas

  Chapter Fourteen—Cassidy

  Chapter Fifteen—Cassidy

  Chapter Sixteen—Midas

  Epilogue—Cassidy

  Prologue—Buddy McKay

  “God, I hate this job,” I said to myself for the tenth time today. It was Friday night and, of course, a full moon. I’d never believed in that crazy full moon crap until I married Christy and took this job, but I sure as hell believed in it now. From drunk pukes to strung-out junkies, this amusement park saw its share of visitors even though it had been closed since Hurricane Katrina. That storm destroyed most of it, but there were enough buildings and attractions left standing to bring out the kooks. Who in their right mind would want to come here? The place gave me the slimy creeps even during the daylight hours. But here I was tonight, taking an extra shift, providing for my family.

  The wife sprang the “great” news on me about her being preggers, and I immediately began begging for more hours. Not just because I wanted to take care of my growing family but because I knew how hard life was going to be once her crazy hormones kicked in. I loved her; I loved the kids too, but one more? This would make six McKays. Six mouths to feed.

  Oh well, what are you going to do, Buddy? Man up. You’ve got a lot to be thankful for, idiot. At least you haven’t lost your marbles. Yet.

  I wasn’t sure why, but for some reason, people really did seem to show their asses more during the full moon. And at Gulfport’s dingiest deserted property, the Gulf-A-Rama, an abandoned amusement park, every weirdo transient and bum in town wanted to take a peek. Too many unsecured buildings, too much property for one lonely security guard to cover. We used to ride our security lines in pairs, but ever since the economic downturn hit, the Safe and Sound Security Company only sent out one patrol at a time. Normally, that didn’t bother me one bit. I liked going alone to the various locations we covered, but this place…I hated it. Day or night. Maybe it was because I knew its history, also thanks to Christy.

  “I really wish you didn’t have to patrol that amusement park. I don’t like thinking of you out there alone. Maybe you won’t get a call. I hope to God you don’t. You should tell them you can’t go, Buddy. It’s not safe, and I…I don’t know how to tell you this, but I have a really bad feeling. Really bad.”

  I shifted my tie around my neck and tried to straighten it. “How’s this?” She didn’t try to help me. I sighed as I adjusted it blindly. Where had I put my glasses?

  “They say that land is cursed, you know.” Christy barely glanced up from her cell phone.

  “It’s always a ‘they,’ isn’t it?”

  She paid me no attention and said it all so matter-of-factly, like she was telling me that bread was on sale and asking me to pick some up on the way home. At least the kids were in bed, all except our youngest, who was bouncing around in his walker. The older ones believed her hocus pocus. I’d asked her before to curb her paranormal enthusiasm in front of the boys, but it hadn’t done much good. She pretty much did what she wanted to, like not going back to work after our second child. And we sure could use the money.

  “I’m too broke to be worried about curses, Christy. What are you talking about, anyway?” I asked as I bent down, picked up the baby’s toy and put it back on his walker desk. He cooed at me happily and went back to banging it around. If he dropped it again, he was on his own.

  “Back in the 1950s, when they started building that park, they dug up a thousand bodies there. Or at least hundreds. I have an article to show you about it. It was an old burial mound, obviously Native American. And before that, some pioneers were killed there. The kids were scalped and murdered. And of course, you know about that boy, the one they found dead in the eighties.”

  “Save it for your Facebook group, please. I’m already running late, Christy. I don’t have time to listen to ghost stories. And if you don’t mind, I’d like it if you kept your haunted history to yourself. Bye.” I kissed her forehead and left the house, trying my best not to picture a thousand bodies stacked up on each other or pioneer kids with their scalps missing. My wife was like that, drawn to the morbid. And that was one of the things I liked least about her. But she cooked a damn fine pot roast, and even after ten years of marriage she gave me the warm and fuzzies. Life hadn’t turned out as I expected, but it was a good life.

  Four hours into my shift, I got the call. “Hey, McKay.”

  “Go ahead, dispatch.”

  And here I was, sitting in the parking lot of the deserted amusement park, hoping to God I wouldn’t walk up on a thousand dead Indians or a squad of homeless zombies.

  Thanks, Christy. I appreciate you and your bad mojo.

  I climbed out of the truck with my flashlight and radio. We weren’t allowed to carry weapons, and I wasn’t going to go hand to hand with anyone. My job was pretty simple, check out the park, report what I find to dispatch. Dispatch would call the cops if needed. If they wanted more out of me, they’d have to let me carry a weapon. And not some crap-in-a-can pepper spray. There were a lot of hyped-up, down-on-their-luck folks out here. A little pepper spray wasn’t going to slow down a meth head.

  “Walking to the gate. The lock is in place, dispatch. No obvious signs of life. Are you sure it’s the main entrance?”

  “Yep, I’m sure. Go check it out, Buddy.”

  “Great,” I answered, trying to sound more confident than I felt. I could tell by Irene’s impatient voice that she sensed my apprehension. Yeah, I was dragging my feet. Christ, I hated this job. I headed back to the truck, found the key and unlocked the gate. Following the handbook to the letter, I pulled in and locked the gate behind me.

  Man, I have a bad feeling about this. Thanks, Christy. Thanks a lot.

  I drove the truck to the inner gate, which wasn’t locked. This was the gate that led to the midway, and then beyond that the rides and attractions. Naturally, my eyes went to the Ferris wheel looming in the distance. I don’t know why, but that area in particular creeped me out. I’d been here a half-dozen times during the past two years, and most of the time it was just vagrants…for some reason, they liked that area. I prayed that whatever mischief brought me here tonight, it wasn’t located there. Anywhere but there. I tugged the flashlight from my waistband and clicked the “on” button. The thing came on, but the light was kind of shaky. I banged it against my open palm, and much to my relief the beam shone bright and true.

  With my hat pulled down over my eye, I began my sweep through the midway. It wasn’t a large one, not like some I’d seen, but none of those had been deserted. What is it about this place? Yuck. I had only made it a few steps past the first stand when I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. A tall shadow vanished around the corner of the Duck Shoot. Radio in hand, I reported
the sighting and proceeded to interact with the trespasser. The grass had grown up in a few places, with clumps of it breaking through the concrete. Great tripping hazards for a forty-year-old man. All I need is to break something. Like my foot. I kept my eyes peeled on the side of the paint-chipped building. There! I saw that shadow! I damn sure did!

  I hoped this guy wasn’t high. Drunks I could handle. Strung-out junkies, however, I refused to deal with—they had no fear, and half of them had diseases, like hepatitis and whatnot. Imagine bringing hepatitis home to my wife and kids. Geesh…get your head in the game, McKay.

  “Hey, I see you. You need to come out now. This is private property!” I stalked around the corner, my beam at the ready, but there was no one there. No one at all. I was on the back side of the midway now. There was trash everywhere. Someone for sure had been back here camping out. And recently. I even spotted a few old syringes on the ground. Then I saw a red light like a laser bouncing a few feet off the ground. Who would be out here with a laser? Some punk kid out to have some fun with a security guard, that’s who. I waved my flashlight toward the restrooms but didn’t see a thing. There was no beam of light, nothing to prove there was a laser pointed at me or anything.

  I heard a weird whining like someone was cranking up an old phonograph. No. It wasn’t that. Not a record. The sound was much louder. The place suddenly came alive; the lights on the midway sprang to life, one at a time. I raced back to the front of the Duck Shoot and was amazed at the sight. The whole place was lighting up! Where was the breaker box? There had to be a central location for the lights. I smelled wires burning—these old wires couldn’t be up to par. They were old, older than me if I had to guess.

  I clicked my radio. “Dispatch, we’ve got a problem. The lights are on, and the place is lit up like a damn Christmas tree. Send someone out here. Send the cops. Damn it! The Ferris wheel is moving! Get somebody out here now, Irene!”

  Irene’s voice came back kind of scratchy, but I was already running in a full sprint. All the rides were on and moving, just like the place was open for business. Damn it all. The Ferris wheel came to a smooth stop, but the lights around it flared and flashed. Yep, sure as shooting, bulbs began to blow. Horrible music played over the rusty loudspeakers, scratchy old rock tunes, the kind my older brother used to listen to night and day.

  “You need to quit screwing around and come out. The cops are on the way!” I shouted at the Ferris wheel. I don’t know why I thought anyone could hear me, but it made me feel better. I stomped toward the big ride; the buckets were swinging as if some punk kids were riding in them, invisible daredevil kids who wanted to test their luck. Were they trying to get themselves killed? I eased closer to the seat, waving my flashlight as I checked to see if anyone was hiding in there. The buckets were the metal kind, rusted and faded, but there was ample room for someone small to hide. You didn’t have to be big to be a troublemaker. I lifted the squeaky bar to have a closer look. My heart was pounding so loud, I thought for sure I’d piss myself if there was actually someone in there.

  Nobody. I nudged the seat to see if it would make the others move. They didn’t move at all. There was nothing to see. Except for the lights and the horrible music, it didn’t look like anyone was here.

  I couldn’t say why I wanted to do it, why I would ever do such a thing, but I climbed in the closest bucket. I shook the seat, but the wheel didn’t move. Okay, so maybe it was the wind that had the seats moving, but they were perfectly still now. Confused and more than a little frightened, I started to step out of the bucket when everything shut off. All the lights, the music, everything. I sat in complete darkness except for the lights of downtown Gulfport shining dimly in the distance.

  That’s it. I’ve got to get out of here. I’ll finish my walk-through, but that’s it.

  And then everything came back on and the metal bar in front of me snapped shut. I was locked in the bucket now! The old, decrepit Ferris wheel began to move, not forward and up like it should but backward and up. I screamed and cussed, but there was no one to hear me.

  It wasn’t until the wheel stopped at the top that I realized I wasn’t alone in the bucket. There was a girl beside me, a young girl with frizzy blond hair and gray skin, and she smelled horrible. Her clammy hand covered mine; she was wearing dirty lace gloves like the kind “material” girls wore back in high school. Yeah, she smelled like a dead dog, and all her teeth were missing.

  Her face got closer as if she wanted to kiss me, and I screamed until I passed out.

  Chapter One—Cassidy Wright

  “The client is Trenton Gaines. He’s the lucky owner of a deserted amusement park. There was an accident there a few weeks ago; a man fell from the Ferris wheel. A security guard.”

  “Why would the security guard be climbing into the Ferris wheel?”

  Midas shook his head and shrugged. “The guard says he saw the wheel moving and couldn’t figure out why. He went in just to check out the bucket, and the seats were all moving when he approached. Next thing he knew, the wheel was moving and he was stuck at the top. The power was doing funky things, coming on, going off. He managed to climb down most of the way, but he had about a ten-foot fall and he’s terrified.”

  “I can see why. No wonder he’s shaken up. I would be too if I fell off a Ferris wheel. Do you think Mr. Gaines wants to be prepared for whatever comes his way, as far as lawsuits? Is the security guard threatening to sue him?”

  “He hasn’t said, but there’s more. While he was on the wheel, the security guard saw an apparition of a young woman. The sight terrified him.”

  “That’s not what you want to see on a Ferris wheel. Sounds creepy. Description?”

  “I don’t know except that she was a young woman. The security guard clammed up; won’t talk to me at all. I think he’s afraid of losing his job.”

  I replied, “Even if we find something, if we can catch something as evidence, it will never stand up in court. The world isn’t ready for that kind of thing. I hope the property owner isn’t asking us to establish a pattern of hauntings.”

  “I think Gaines just wants to know what really happened for his own peace of mind. And I agree with you. Although most of the world believes in ghosts, I don’t think our judicial system is ready to blame crimes on them. Who knows? It could be that the security guard just panicked and fell. He never said the apparition pushed him, as far as I know.” He swung the SUV onto the off-ramp, and we exited the interstate. “Almost there. You got everything?”

  “You know I do. Preparedness is my middle name.”

  “Hardly,” he joked back, “but I’m sure you have a sketch pad in that raggedy backpack of yours.”

  “You know I do,” I repeated as I kissed his cheek. We drove the rest of the way in silence. I twisted the ring on my finger; it had gotten a little loose the past few months. I’d been training hard for the Azalea Trail Run, running every day, and my body had downsized. I was glad to get back into smaller clothing, but this loose ring was worrying. I needed to visit the jewelry store soon and have it sized before I lost it. That would be a nightmare. This wasn’t just a beautiful, expensive ring, this was Midas’ grandmother’s ring. It belonged to Papa Angelos’ late wife. And that wasn’t something that could be replaced.

  “What’s on your mind?” Midas asked me as we pulled into the abandoned park. There was a car waiting for us, presumably the client.

  “I can’t say, really. I feel a little anxious, but maybe it’s because we’re at a deserted amusement park.” I knew what he wanted to ask me. Have you picked a date yet? Although I totally wanted to marry Midas, I also wanted to enjoy every moment of this experience. Life was too short to rush through it.

  “Yeah, look at this place. It’s bigger than I thought it would be. We’ll definitely have to stick to the hot spots if we do agree to this investigation.”

  I grabbed my backpack and hopped out of the SUV. Mr. Gaines was younger than I expected, about thirty or so, although I couldn’
t say why I thought he would be older. Maybe because I couldn’t imagine anyone owning an amusement park unless they inherited it. Maybe he did. I dug for my mini notebook and a felt-tip pen.

  “Mr. Gaines, I’m Midas Demopolis; we spoke on the phone. This is Cassidy Wright, a member of my team.”

  “Excellent. Nice to meet you both. Please, call me Trenton. I can’t say how grateful I am that you guys agreed to come out. I hope you like creepy places because the Gulf-A-Rama is all kinds of weird. Come on, I’ve got the keys here.” Trenton opened the gate and allowed us through. “You know what; we should probably bring the vehicles in. As you can see, it’s quite a walk to the midway.”

  “Okay.” We hopped back in the SUV, made the drive up and waited for Trenton to join us. It was a cool afternoon, and I could see debris like old foam cups and other trash blowing around. It probably blew off the nearby highway, or it could have been trash left behind by the park’s unwanted visitors. Obviously, someone had been hanging around the amusement park, haunted or not. Maybe the place was a magnet for teenagers, like a lot of abandoned areas were? It was certainly possible.

  “Tell us about this place, Trenton. What’s been going on here?” Midas asked.

  The three of us stood inside the midway. I peeked around as they talked, though I was listening to every word. This place was kind of sad, really. I tried to think about all the good times that had been had here, the families having fun, the laughter, the delicious food. Yeah, the Gulf-A-Rama should have warmed my soul, but it didn’t. I wasn’t getting those fun-for-all Wally-World vibes from this piece of ground. Not at all.

  “I bought this place from my wife’s uncle a few years ago. Her family used to run the park, but after the murder in ’87, it kind of went downhill. Got a reputation for being haunted, but they tried to keep it going. Until Katrina. Now it’s really a total loss. People don’t want to come here. I’ll be honest, I never wanted to reopen it, but you can see we’re very close to that industrial park. There is a lot of potential here, even if only as some type of commercial warehousing or storage, but everything I try…it’s just been bad luck. I can’t understand why, but it is. Now the security guard had his accident, and before that, we had a fire in one of the buildings, probably some homeless people trying to stay warm. Before that, my maintenance guy darn near got electrocuted. Nobody has died, not since the Pettis kid in the ’80s, but the place seems unsettled for lack of a better word.”