The Guidance - By Marley Gibson Page 0,5

my head to the left. Celia's EMF detector flashes like the lights on a state trooper's car. EMF stands for "electromagnetic field," and the detector reads levels of energies. It's widely thought in the paranormal community—yes, we're a community—that spirits use energy to manifest. And since everything in the world is basically made of energy, you never know where a ghost may appear or how it'll do it. Let me tell you: I've got a manifestation, all right.

"Mr. Lockhart?" I ask out loud.

Celia and Taylor spin in the direction my voice is aimed. Becca follows along behind me.

I hear him plain as day, as if he's really standing before me. Well, he is standing before me, only no one but me can see him.

Mr. Lockhart smiles. "I'm sorry about that soldier. He's been nosing around here trying to get attention and cause trouble. Are you okay, dear?"

"Yes, sir," I say, catching my breath. All of my physical symptoms have eased. "You know why I'm here, right?"

Becca lifts a dark brow at me and then positions the digital recorder toward where I'm speaking. Taylor snaps away on the camera, and Celia stands by, taking all sorts of measurements. They've all seen this before and know to go with the flow and not freak out that I'm seeing an entity ... and having a conversation with it.

"They left me behind," he says. "Those idiots at the airline. I sat on a conveyor belt for at least two days. Good thing I was embalmed before they put me in the casket. Otherwise"—he waves his hand in front of his nose—"that would be a horrific smell, don'tcha think?"

I snicker at the ghost's joke about his own demise. I have to be serious though, since I don't know how long Delaney will be able to manipulate the energy for me to see and hear him. "Where are you?"

He takes off his visor and scratches his head. "I don't rightly know."

My body sags and I exhale noisily. "You have to remember something. A detail? A sound? A smell?"

"Nope. The formaldehyde sort of masks everything else."

"Ask him about the airplane," Celia instructs. "Is there anything he can remember about it? Particularly the color?"

"Sure, sure," he says, hearing Celia's question. "I remember going into this big ol' gold plane."

"Gold," I say to Celia. "He says it was gold."

She runs her hands through the top of her hair and I can almost hear the wheels of thought turning. "Mrs. Lockhart said she was on Southeastern Airlines. Their planes are blue and silver. The luggage handlers must have loaded him onto the wrong flight."

"Who has gold planes?" Becca asks.

Of course, Celia, knower of all things trivial and seemingly unimportant—seriously, the girl could win the adult Jeopardy! tournament—snaps her fingers. "Journey Airlines has gold planes. I've seen their ads on television."

"Do they fly into Atlanta?" Taylor asks.

Celia shakes her head no. "Their hub is Memphis."

The energy shifts in the room and becomes almost staticky. My own oomph is starting to fade; I know Delaney's been pulling off my psychic abilities to talk to me. He smiles and waves and blows a kiss. We'll get you home, I say in my head.

You did well, Emily notes to me.

We rush upstairs to tell Mrs. Lockhart. Well, I don't. Becca has to help me up the stairs and over to a couch to regain my strength. Man, connecting with spirits like that just wears me the hell out. I need a massive nap now.

Celia dials up Journey's toll-free number on her cell phone and gets the proper customer service person to help out. We listen to the one-sided conversation as she relays the information. Mrs. Lockhart stands holding Taylor's hand as she awaits the verdict.

"Yes, she's right here and can give you all of the information." Celia breaks into a wide grin. She passes her cell phone to Mrs. Lockhart. "They have your husband."

"Thank you, Jesus!" she sings out. "And you girls! Thank you, thank you! This wouldn't have happened without you. Now my Delaney can come home for a proper burial. Evelyn and Veronica will be so relieved." She puts the phone to her ear and begins giving her personal information.

"Yep, just another typical day for the ghost huntresses," I say with a contented sigh. Taylor and Becca high-five and Celia leans over for a fist bump.

Why am I still feeling a bit kerfuffled though?

You haven't seen the last of that soldier ...

And along with Emily's sweet voice, the sinister laugh is back.

Yeah,