Читать книгу American Indian Ghost Stories of the West - Antonio Sr. Garcez - Страница 21

David’s story is unnerving given its location and time of night. I tend to wonder how anyone might have reacted in a more rational manner if found to be in a same situation as he. During my research I rarely come across stories compelling such attention as his. Fortunately for David and his cousin, they were aided by two strangers who just happened to be in the area. Let’s simply hope we all can be so lucky as they were.

— Antonio

“It was February in the year 1991 when I had my experience with a ghost. I was seventeen years old at the time. One Saturday evening in Phoenix my high school was having a basketball game, and after the game my cousin Ralph and I left the school gymnasium at around 10 pm.

My cousin is from Tohono O’dham and I was going to spend the weekend with my aunt’s family. Like myself, my aunt is Yaqui. She married a Tohono O’dham man some years ago and had two kids. One is my cousin Ralph. We got on interstate 10 and then switched on to south highway 15 for the drive to the town of Sells on the Tohono O’dham reservation. About 40 minutes into our drive we were deep in the desert. Because my car needed new tires, I had to drive just below the speed limit. The threads were just about completely worn out. I guess I had the type of car that we Indians call an “Indian Car.” It was a pretty beat-up looking car, but it got me where I wanted to go. Anyway, there we were driving in the middle of the desert with the CD player going, and the darkness all around.

Suddenly, a large javalina crossed the road, and I hit that wild pig with a big-old “bang!” I didn’t have time to even think about stepping on the brakes because all at once there was just the road before us, and the next there was this javalina. I knew we had some big trouble with the car because the radiator began to hiss and steam began pouring out. I immediately drove to the side of the road, and stopped the car to check on the damage. Sure enough, that big pig had hit the front grill head-on, and a piece of metal had punctured my car’s radiator.

Directly behind the car in the darkness we could hear the pig loudly squealing. It was a weird experience to be alone at night in the desert and to hear the loud dying sounds of an animal just a few yards away. It kept up the terrible squealing sound for a long, long time. I had a flashlight, but I sure wasn’t going to go check on its injuries without a gun. I know that javalinas can turn on you, giving a nasty bite when cornered or injured. My cousin said, “You know, with a busted radiator, we’re not going to be able to go any further tonight.” “Yeah,” I answered, “We’re going to have to spend a cold night in the car, or else start walking and hope someone picks us up.” We decided to stay with the car, open up the hood and hopefully, if anyone driving by saw us, they might give us a lift.

After about a half hour, the javalina stopped screaming. As we sat in the front seat, we waited and waited for a passing car. A few passed by, but none stopped. I looked at my watch; the time was 12:10 am. Aside from being cold, we were both sleepy. We decided to turn off the car’s radio in order to conserve the battery. We also decided to go outside and sit on the car’s trunk, to keep from falling asleep. We kept each other up with jokes and talking about the basketball game. After a while we ran out of jokes and things to say. We each started to yawn every few minutes. I took a look at my watch, the time was 1:40 am. “Damn,” I thought, “When are we going to get home.”

After a few more minutes passed I heard the sound of something moving within the bushes. I turned to look at Ralph. I could tell by his reaction that he also heard the sound. We kept still and alert. The sound was of someone slowly walking and breaking twigs and brush with each step. The sounds were coming from the direction where the javalina was lying on the road. The moon was bright enough to make out forms in the darkness, but we were not able to see anything. Then from out of the bushes, about twenty feet away, we saw a barefoot man! I turned on my flashlight and focused the weak yellow light on him as I yelled, “Hey, what’s up?” The man stopped and turned to face us. Because of the weak batteries in my flashlight and the man’s distance from us, it was not easy to make out his features. I thought he was a desert tramp. There are a few of those old guys living out there. Ralph yelled out, “Watch out, we hit a javalina and its somewhere out where you’re walking!” Again there was no reply from the man. Then it occurred to both of us, what’s this guy doing in the desert at this hour? This was not normal. Things were becoming kind of weird. We got a little scared, we both yelled out, “Hey, you, can’t you hear us, get away from there.” The man stopped, turned in our direction and looked at us. We were definitely “on the edge” at that point. I thought if this guy has a gun, in which direction would we run? I spoke to Ralph, “This guy is some kind of weirdo, we better be careful.”

Then the man took a few more steps toward the highway, and we both got a real good look at him. He was dressed in very little clothing. On his thin waist he wore a tight-fitting dark colored cloth that draped down over one knee. Around his neck were several long necklaces with large white beads or shells. He wore his hair short with bangs above his glaring eyes. One obviously strange thing was his hair. It was either greasy or wet, because when I focused the light from my flashlight on it, it shone. He was about five feet tall and very thin. He was an older man, because his face showed the signs of age. Ralph and I yelled to him, “Hey, you!” Again he did not respond. He didn’t even look at us, but continued to walk across the highway and into the brush on the other side, where he disappeared. I use the word “walk,” but he was floating about five inches over the asphalt! I could see his bare feet making the slow movement of walking.

As he re-entered the brush, unlike before, we didn’t hear any of the twigs breaking under his footsteps. Ralph and I looked at each other and jumped off the trunk, ran inside the car and quickly locked the doors! We knew this was no tramp. It had to be a ghost! You had to be there to feel the energy to know that this was a real ghost. What else could it have been?

We spent the night, scared and hoping for a car to stop, or for the morning to quickly arrive. We were scared! We kept thinking that the ghost was going to appear to us again, only this time at the car’s windows! Our imaginations kept us from sleeping. We tried to think about other things, but it was difficult not to keep focusing on the ghost. We kept the car’s inside dome light on, and the radio tuned loudly to a rock station. Eventually, because we were so tired, we finally did fall asleep.

As the hours slowly past, sometime before dawn, we were wakened by a passing truck with two guys who were headed for the town of Sells. They sure did give us a good scare when they knocked on the car’s window, but soon we were introducing ourselves, and they offered to take us home. The guys told us they were artists driving from California. They were on a photography trip, taking pictures of the desert and Indians for an art project. We tied one end of a rope to the back of their truck and the other end to the front of our car, and they towed us home. We never mentioned to them of our experience with the ghost the night before. But when we did get home that morning, we wasted no time in telling my aunt and her family everything. Everyone agreed that what we had experienced was the ghost of an ancient Indian from the spirit world. Since my encounter with that ghost, I’ve decided, if at all possible, never to drive at night through the desert again.”