The Light in Zedediah McCumber’s Chicken House
An overconfident theology major delves into forbidden subjects.
“I’d like some more tea, please.”
“On it.” She took my cup with her and immediately returned.
“You guys let me know if you need anything else.”
“Thank you,” we both answered at the same time.
“Okay,” said Tommy, glancing around the cafe. “Next year is my senior year at Mackenson. When I start my fifth year, I’ll need a proper subject for a thesis and eventually a dissertation—you know the drill. What I’m about to suggest will, I think, assist me greatly in my later studies. I want to go on an expedition. Well, I want you and me to go on an expedition.”
And here we go. “An expedition?” I asked.
“I want to investigate what I think is a local haunting. Simple setup: I go onto the site and do my investigation. You will be offsite monitoring remotely, recording the audio and video. I supply all the equipment and pay for all expenses. Your payment for this expedition will be the knowledge and experience you gain from it.”
He continued. “And I suppose expedition is too lofty of a word. Let’s think of it as a two person adventure where you don’t even have to step into the building. Well...it’s not exactly a normal building: It’s a chicken house.”
“A chicken house?” It was hard not to laugh.
“It’s not a chicken coop for friendly family roosters and baby chickens. This is an industrial sized sheet metal building. From the road it looks to be about 80 feet long and 30 feet wide. It’s built on a place that has some history connected to it, and I have discovered that no one has ever investigated it. At least no one around here.”
“Can I ask how you came to have this information?”
“Well, I shouldn’t reveal my source, but my source is me. My information comes from local folklore, Texas history, and the library. Mackenson’s library was not helpful at all, but the local town library was. They have many unusual and one-of-a-kind books about Mackenson County. I was able to spend a great deal of time poring over their material.”
Poring? That revelation sounded a bit suspicious to me. “Wait,” I interrupted, and kept my voice low. “Mackenson Public Library let you abscond with that kind of historical material?” Everyone knew that the library was extremely protective of certain parts of their inventory, ostensibly because of its monetary value. It shared that in common with some of the Institute’s library and some of the local Catholic Church’s library. You can’t check the material out, no videos, and no flash photography. You were required to use those disposable medical gloves to even touch some of the books in their archives.
“No, of course not. I just jotted down a few notes the old-fashioned way and used my phone to record the important stuff. I know you’re not supposed to, but I did it anyway.” He shrugged, as though he had been reading my mind.
“Anyway, I can’t be bothered by petty rules, and I think I was rewarded for my efforts. I’ve found what I think might be a supernatural manifestation, and I’ve got a good idea about when and why it began. I speculate that it might be an ongoing event, and I would like very much to find out if it is.” Tommy took another bite of his cheeseburger. He was clearly waiting on a response.
“Okay, so you think something is happening in a chicken house, and you want me to go there with you and run some equipment. Can I ask if you think we’re looking for a spirit or a ghost? You said manifestation, right? I’m afraid I’m not familiar with the current terminology.”
“Well that’s the mystery and something we’ll need to discover on our own. But think how important this could be for next semester’s studies. Just think about it. We’re going to a college where they help train ministers in Protestant doctrine. Any time a ghost or a spirit is mentioned next semester, it will be, by default, called a demon or a demonic manifestation. What if we came into class armed with information that contradicts that position? I mean we wouldn’t have to challenge the school outright, but wouldn’t it be nice to know for sure? Think about the work of paranormal investigators and the types of hauntings they’ve revealed. There’s the residual haunting, the type that basically consists of an unintelligent repeating event. Then there’s the intelligent haunting, the kind where the ghost of something that was once alive will interact—even speak—to you. After that you get into poltergeist events and demonic manifestations. Is all that research just a waste of time because it’s all, ultimately, the work of demons? Again I ask: wouldn’t it be nice to know for sure?”
I suddenly realized how animated Davenport was in his speech. He’d evidently put a lot of thought into his idea and I had to admit that I was intrigued. If I agreed with his proposal, which I was considering, I’d have the easier job of the two. At least I wouldn’t have to try to contact a ghost.
“So you’re proposing that we basically do an experiment to see if we can discover or communicate with something that might be paranormal but not necessarily demonic in nature? For something like personal enrichment I suppose, or knowledge for the sake of knowledge.”
“Exactly,” he replied. “Or we might discover the opposite: Demonic and not paranormal. Or residual. Or poltergeist. Who knows what we’ll find?” He took another bite of his burger.
“You do realize that your fifth year thesis can’t be based on personal research? If we had a drink with a ghost and filmed it, it wouldn’t help with your master’s degree.”
“Yes I know, but remember that I reach out today for what I want to accomplish tomorrow. The study we’ll conduct will be used by me as part of my doctoral dissertation. And as for you, you will be free to use the material as you see fit once it’s published.” He took another big bite of his cheeseburger, clearly enjoying it.
“You’ll be able to use my—our—work in whatever way you want and you’ll gain personal experience that most of your peers won’t have. They’ll be even more envious of your work. You’re considered to be top-tier right now by the student body, and though they might not say it, by the faculty too. Your participation in this project can only enhance your standing in the eyes of your fellow scholars.”
“So: That’s why I asked you to meet me here today. You’re high-caliber and I am impressed with your devotion to M.I. Hannah...it’s just a chicken house, but dark things have happened there, and they evidently still happen. I need a qualified assistant—a partner—to help me uncover whatever’s happening on that property. I just have to know. Will you help me or not?”
I had walked into the restaurant with no interest in ghosts or spirits. I still had no interest in the paranormal or the supernatural. I knew that I should abandon my plate and leave; go study. But I didn’t. The worst thing had happened: I had become interested.
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