against the wall. The mother and daughter conversed using a complex dance of limbs and extremities in a language that I, and the majority of the group, could not decipher. Leaning forward in the nearest chair, Sean squinted and mouthed the parts of the conversation he seemingly understood. He flipped to a new page of the notebook on his lap and continued to write.
Sarah appeared more solid, more real, and when I mentioned that fact to Powell, he agreed but suggested it could be a trick of the low light. I found myself hypnotized while watching Haley and Sarah and the graceful and subtle motions of their secret language. My fear of ghosts, or at least those like Sarah, had all but diminished, leaving me to wonder about the how and why and the meaning of it all. I wanted to know the rules so I could apply them to my own situation.
Sean flipped the notebook pages back, got up from his chair, and joined his family on the floor in the corner. He showed the top page to Haley. She nodded and smiled up at him, and with the return of a smile, he touched her cheek. As he did so, I could almost feel my father’s calloused hands against my face, and with my eyes closed, I tucked my face into my shoulder.
“What do you think they’re saying?” Powell asked.
I opened my eyes and refocused on the parents and child. Sarah wiped at her face, smiled, and nodded, and Sean flipped to the next page. By the time the notepad was placed on the ground, the two of them were both laughing and crying. Sean wiped his face with the back of his hand, while Sarah reached out to take his other.
The two of them snatched back their hands, as though in reaction to a snake bite, and Sean let out a deep exclamation of pain through gritted teeth—Sarah was silent but mimed the same.
The rest of us circled around the family. “What happened?” Powell asked.
Sean clutched his wrist. “Felt like a burn or shock.”
“Let me take a look at it,” Powell said, helping him to his feet.
As Powell and Sean made their way into the kitchen, Haley tugged at my shirt. When I looked down, she handed me a note.
Mom says that she felt it too .
I took the note to the kitchen and read it to the rest of the group.
“That didn't happen to me with the guy in the clinic,” Powell said.
“It wasn’t like that with my wife in the church either, there was no feeling whatsoever.”
Powell retrieved cotton swabs and hydrogen peroxide from the kit, but when Sean rolled up his sleeve, there were no burn marks.
Sean frowned and turned his attention back to Sarah. “What’s happening?"
His question echoed in my mind, but I had no answer.
17 | Conduit
Over the next few weeks, the house became crowded. The dead had somehow discovered our sanctuary, and subsequently, the means with which to communicate with the living. The way that the mob in the church had fought over Haley, as a means to relay their messages and answer their questions, these new entities, some visible to us and some not, now pulled and fought over Sarah. There was nothing we could do but watch and read the relayed messages.
Accidental contact with the spirits caused physical harm, anything from a mild burning sensation to a sharp and sudden electrical shock, all seemingly corresponding to the entity’s opacity. Those like Sarah, who were beginning to look solid, reported, through signed translation, that they were becoming trapped—the ghostly objects, furniture, and walls that were materializing in their world, now imprisoned them like an electric fence. In response to their requests, the door was left open so that any who wished to leave were free to do so.
As our worlds converged, the dead seemed to materialize, losing their transparency. Day by day, their doll-like bodies more closely resembled the human form, the naked human form. As all became aware of the change, we were asked to set up a screen—it seems that even ghosts are bashful about nudity. Gary and