The Tesla Gate
When a cosmic storm enters Earth’s atmosphere, scientists are baffled by its composition and origins, but not nearly as much as they are by the storm’s side effect – anyone who has died and chosen not to cross over is suddenly stranded here, visible, and can interact with the living.
With the world thrown into chaos, Thomas Pendleton is eager to make up for many broken promises to his six-year-old son, Seth. Soon after the storm, they set out on a road trip to the National Air and Space Museum in Washington DC, completely unaware of the social and political maelstrom they’re heading into that will change their lives forever.
John D. Mimms is a business owner, paranormal researcher, and author. John served as the Technical Director for the Arkansas Paranormal and Anomalous Studies Team (ARPAST). During his four-year tenure with the organization, he helped supervise over 100 investigations and wrote more than sixteen technical articles. One of John’s articles, titled “A Christmas Carol Debunked,” was read live on Parazona Radio by Paul Bradford of Ghost Hunters International fame. John also wrote the ARPAST technical/training manual which is a comprehensive guide on equipment usage, investigation protocol, and scientific theory for paranormal research.
In 2009 John decided to couple his knowledge of paranormal phenomena with his lifelong love of literary fiction. Among his titles are The Great Keep, Death Theory, and The Lemonade Girl. John is currently working on book two of The Tesla Gate trilogy.
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Frozen, I listened and heard nothing. I was just about to move on to the TV when a faint noise met my ears. I listened curiously at first, but the longer I listened the faster my heart began to race. Was that someone crying? The more I listened, the more certain I became that a child was crying in Seth’s room. Could this have been one of his friends that had snuck into his room to privately mourn? I didn’t think so; Seth was only six after all and the nearest child his age lived about four blocks away; a far piece for a six year old to travel by himself. But still, I was positive about what I was hearing; it was definitely the undersized sobs of a child.
My tinge of curiosity was quickly replaced by a creepy feeling like 100 mice were running up and down my spine. My interest about what was going on outside had been brushed aside for a new single minded focus. Who or what was on the other side of the door?
I slowly crept toward the door, barely daring to breathe. A large vase beside the bathroom contained two large golf umbrellas. I grasped one by its protruding handle and slowly withdrew it from the vase, like a knight drawing his sword. I didn’t know what the heck I was going to do with an umbrella, unless the intruder was armed with a water pistol. I guess it just gave me some sort of security as I moved to open the door, however false it may be.
I placed my left palm against the wood surface and gently pushed as it slowly started to swing inward. I poked the tip of the umbrella into the widening crack, ready to repel any attack that came my way. The door gave one last tiny creak as it came to a stop. As I peered into the bedroom, the umbrella dropped from my hand and my heart leapt into my throat.