SECTION FIVE
A Mysterious Man called Garret

Entry #0037: When I Met Garret

One pleasant morning in the third week of November, I decided to go to the Mulvern Public Library, partly because I thought there might be books on ghost sightings in the high desert, but also because I couldn't stay down in the dark dungeon of Area 57 all the time. I could find some pretty good info online, but something about books in the Library was still very appealing to me. Something about the musty smell, the feel of paper and cracking binding, the dark print on the off-white pages, and the rows upon rows of tall shelves which contain thousands if not millions of books! I could go on . . .

When I got there, I saw a few cars in the parking lot and an old Harley motorcycle. Inside, I asked the librarian if she had heard about any legendary ghost sightings in the Mojave Desert, she said to look up the word “ghost” in the card catalog. This old-fashioned library still didn't have a computer yet. Damn. Thumbing through the archaic card catalog, I first tried using words like paranormal, apparitions, and haunted houses, but didn't find them, but, as suggested by the librarian, there were a few books under the word "ghost." Two books struck out: The Legend of the Ghost Cave at Grapevine Canyon, a subject our paranormal group knew about, and Ghosts and Hauntings of the High Desert.

Within five minutes I found the second book, but not the first one. Evidently somebody had checked it out, or so I thought. That's when something strange happened.

When I turned to go down the next aisle, I spied a tall, gaunt man with scraggly dark hair and unshaven face. He wore a greasy black jacket and dirty blue jeans and cowboy boots. I saw the book in his hands, his hand covering most of the title, but I glimpsed the last part: at Grapevine Canyon. So he had grabbed it before I got a chance. Was this yet another of those strange synchronous moments? Two individuals looking for the same exact book?

Sometimes I've been known to be a boldly rude person, usually when something gets me mad. But I only felt a twinge of that at that moment, not a full-on-bite-the guy's-head-off impulse yet.

Instead I cleared my throat and spoke softly, "That's a coincidence."

But the scruffy man turned and looked at me with a frown, and just said, "What?"

I smiled and chuckled weakly, "Oh, I was looking for that very book you've got in your hand. But that's okay; I'll check it out next time."

The guy looked down at the book, then tried to hand it to me, "Take it. I wasn't really looking for it."

I shook my head and said, "No, no. That's all right. There's online info about the Ghost Cave anyway."

The guy shrugged and brought the book to his side once again.

Although this guy had a weird vibe, I had to ask, "So you're into paranormal phenomena?"

"Yep. Just a hobby."

Although something inside told me not to pursue it, I couldn't help but say, "I've got the same hobby. In fact I'm part of a paranormal society."

He looked over and asked, "You mean that Spectrum group?"

"No. I checked them out though, but I ended up joining the Mojave Desert Paranormal Society."

"I've heard of them. But I was a member of the Spectrum Paranormal Group for a while. They were too strict, so I quit. Doing it on my own now."

"I see." Staving off an urge to pull back and not be too friendly with this guy, I held out my hand and said, "Call me Starky."

The guy shook my hand and replied, "Garret Creely."

I asked, "Out of curiosity, have you had any weird paranormal experiences?"

"Yep, but I don't go around talking about them much. When I told the Spectrum folks some of my unique episodes, they thought I was a kook."

"I know the feeling."

Then he started opening up to me as he turned toward me with a smile, but I still felt some weird sensation I couldn't figure out. But he said, "We should go somewhere and talk."

Why I felt resistance about that, I don't know. He seemed like a harmless enough fellow.
Oddly, neither of us ended up checking that ghost book out, but we agreed to meet at the Kountry Kitchen down the main avenue. He got on his Harley and took off and I followed in my Chevy Blazer.

It's always exciting to gain new friends, but something about this guy didn't sit right. So I decided I was going to see it through regardless of the consequences.


Entry #0038: A Conversation with Garret at the Kountry Kitchen

It was lunchtime. I had a medium rare Sirloin steak with baked potato and a cup of chili, with coffee of course. Garret had fried chicken, mashed potatoes, side of salad, and a glass of Coke. During the meal we covered a few things, and as usual I had my micro-recorder hidden in my buckskin jacket pocket.

I asked him, “So, do you live around here, Garret?”

While chewing on fried chicken, he replied, "Lived in Victorville for several years, but been here for about ten."

"What do you do for work?"

"Motorcycles."

"I see. Where?"

"Apple Valley. Imperial Cycles. I'm a mechanic."

"Not in sales, eh?"

"Nope. Not my thing. What about you?"

I swallowed some steak, washed it down with a sip of coffee, and replied, "I work at Mulvern Daily Press. News and announcements, crap like that. It's a job."

Garret nodded vaguely. "Hmm."

Garret wasn't much for talking apparently. We quietly ate for a while, and when we were done with our lunch, he lit up a cigarette with a fancy skull-and-crossbones lighter, and began smoking. That's when I realize we were in the smoking section, which I usually steered away from. Is that the feeling I was getting about him? My annoyance with smokers and my secondhand smoking phobia? I know that respecting people's choices is important, so I just shut up and took it. Even when he blew a few bodacious smoke rings.

Garret finally asked me, "So you're a member of that Mojave paranormal group." Was that supposed to be a question?

I replied, "Yeah, MDPS for short. I'm new to the group, so we haven't done much.
They did investigate the Ghost Cave at one time, of course that was some years ago."

"That's why you wanted that book I had."

"Yeah, but no biggie."

"Maybe you and I can go there and check it out someday."

"That's an idea, someday. But I'm curious; you said you were a member of the Spectrum group. So what happened?"

Garret hesitated while smoking his cigarette, then replied, "Rules were too strict. Shawn Williams is a big asshole, bosses people around too much. I've had far more experience in the paranormal than him, so he's usually talking out of his ass. I told him I could lead the group better than him. The usual power struggle you know, so I left."

It looked like a case of two egos wanting to be in charge. Perhaps I should talk to Shawn himself, and get his side of the story. Then I asked, "So what kind of paranormal experiences have you had?"

He finished his cigarette and put it out in an ashtray. "Several years ago I went up to the Ghost Cave. Didn't see what I would call a ghost, it was more like a demon, a bug-eyed thing with long claws chasing me through the cave. I ran like hell and got out of there. Odd, it didn't leave the cave, it just stayed there."

"Well, going online, I read about some kind of ghost that was sighted several times in the cave. Maybe the ghost is cursed to stay in the cave, or maybe it's protecting something in there, some kind of treasure." I took a longer sip of coffee, which was cooling down.

"I've done my research too. There is a treasure buried in the cave, something an old prospector hid there in the 1800s, gold maybe. Some say the old coot himself is the actual ghost."

"Yeah, I read that too, but that doesn't explain how a ghost turns into a demon, like you saw." I jutted my right brow up, challenging him.

Garret just shrugged, "Beats me." I reckon he was playing dumb, giving no explanation. Being safe.


Entry #0039: A Conversation with Garret at the Kountry Kitchen, continued

"So what else? What other eerie encounters have you had?" I asked him.

That's when he leaned back in his seat, looking suspicious. He asked, "So, let me guess; you interview people for the Mulvern Daily Press."

I chuckled, "No, but I have interviewed many people before, for my blog, Strange Reports From Zones Unknown."

Garret finally cracked a big smile as he leaned forward now, elbows on the table. "Ah, so you're that guy! That's something! Several months ago I found your blog. "

"Really? Cool." I couldn't help but grin like a fool.

"So I'm meeting Mr. R. R. Stark in person. But people call you Starky, eh?"

"Some do."

"Well, I haven't read all your articles, but I did like some of the paranormal ones, those interviews especially. So what's the deal? You had a bunch of stuff on that Bamblebrush site, then it all disappeared. Then you started that Outer Edge site."

"I had to make a change. The Bamblebrush site is owned and operated by my old friend, Leo Stroud, so I had to start my own site."

"Okay. I remember reading the one on your alien encounter. Pretty freaky! That really happened?"

"Yes it did. Long time ago. I'm sure most people think I'm crazy, but I definitely saw something not human, and not even animal. So it had to be alien."

Garret leaned in a little closer as he said in a hushed tone, "Well, I think I was abducted by aliens when I was a teenager, but since my memories were so fuzzy, it's hard to tell. The weird thing is, before that happened, I had an appendectomy. But after my abduction, the appendix scar was gone, and when I went to the doctor one day, he noticed that my tonsils were missing, and I never had a tonsillectomy before. Strange, huh?"

Yeah, really strange. I started wondering about this guy, questioning his honesty.

Grinning, he said, "I think you should interview me, I've had a lot of freaky shit that's happened to me."

I was cautious course, didn't want to be too eager. I've interviewed a few nutjobs before, and didn't publish such discussions in my blog. "We'll see. I haven't done any interviews for Zones Unknown for a while."

"I'd say it's time to start up again. I'll dazzle your readers!" he laughed.

"We'll see." I just smiled weakly.

"Well, what're the chances of me joining your paranormal society? I think I'd fit right in."

I had my doubts. I replied, "That's not up to me. Chad Phillips is the leader."

"Yep, heard of him. Never met him."

The conversation started petering out, so I said I had to go. He gave me his flashy motorcycle mechanic's business card, with his cell phone number on it naturally, and I reluctantly gave him mine on a scrap of paper. He said I should get a business card, up my status a tad. Yeah, right. Then we parted ways, he took off on his motorcycle westward down Mulvern Ave, wondering where he actually lived, then decided to not be too curious. I got in the Blazer and trundled off to the west for a couple blocks, then turned left on Highland Ave, heading home.

But then something odd happened. I began to feel not just drained of energy, but dizzy. I reached the end of Highland, turned right, and pulled over on Foothill Rd. Did this strange sensation have something to do with Garret? I have heard that some people have that peculiar effect on others. After a few minutes, though not feeling much better, I continued on Foothill for two blocks, then turned left up Mesa Rd, which took me the few miles up the slope. Then as I careened cautiously through the meandering dirt roads of the slope, I was feeling real dizzy again, but I managed to make it back to my cabin.

Article: My Alien Encounter


Entry #0040: Reflections

The next day I sat on my porch drinking a mug of coffee. Autumn cooled down the desert a tad. That fatigued feeling I had did eventually go away, but I had a restless night, didn't sleep well. Something about Garret, I felt. Or was I connecting dots that weren't there?

I sat there listening to the conversation of Garret and myself on the micro-recorder, reflecting on what we discussed, holding the device, listening to our conversation of the previous day. I would click it off now and then, considering what we had discussed.

This Garret Creely was an enigma. He was rough around the edges, but I figured he was harmless at first. Or was he? But he seemed to just come out of nowhere, since I had never seen him around the Valley before. Perhaps he was a hermit like me and kept to himself.

I was leery about some of the things he claimed to have happened to him. Like the weird demon-ghost in the legendary Ghost Cave. And his appendix scar disappearing along with his tonsils due to an alien abduction. I figured my intuition was pretty good, because I sensed that I could trust him further than I could throw his motorcycle over a skyscraper. I've interviewed countless people over the years, and many of them were outrageous storytellers, if not flagrant fibbers. So I've learned to detect those individuals that were genuine from those that were highly questionable -- or crackpots, to be blunt. I thought that I should warn Chad about him, because Garret would be looking for him.

I couldn't get out of my head the feeling of being drained of energy after he and I parted ways. But the two of us were just sitting and having an interesting conversation. I realized now that I had felt tense the whole time we sat, and not at all relaxed. Strange.

While I sat there on the porch, I called Jezz on my cell phone and told her about Garret and how I felt drained after our meeting at the Kountry Kitchen. She suggested I stay away from him if that was the case. Perhaps she was right. As much as I wanted to find new friends, would Garret fit the bill? I had my doubts.

I called Chad next, and told him about Garret and our strange conversation, and about feeling drained. I told him to be cautious if the guy ever contacted him, whether by phone or in person. He said he'd keep his eyes and ears peeled.

Chad also informed me that there was a potential haunted house on Agate Rd up the slope a ways, the old Fuller home, but he'd have to check it out himself first to see if it seemed legitimate. Then he would let members of the group know for sure if there would be an actual event. We hung up and I went inside the cabin, and in the kitchen I prepared a tall glass of iced tea, then took it with me down to my station of operations down in the bunker, to write up another Zones Unknown article.

Thanksgiving came along, but it was basically uneventful. Jezz invited me to her place along with a few of her friends, and her beefy boyfriend, Kent. Since most of them weren't into the weird ooky-spooky stuff she and I was into, the conversations were rather boring.


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