The Tampa Terror

Part 6: Carey

When I was younger and still living on the farm my family called home, I communicated daily with those who passed by. Most were living when they crossed paths with me, but some visitors had been deceased for days, months, years, or centuries.

I never encountered a spirit whose intent it was to harm. On the contrary, those who came to the farm always greeted me with smiles and kind words. They asked if they could visit the cows and the horses. I answered yes every time, and I would lead the curious spirit back to the barn.

None attempted to haunt the animals, my relatives, or myself. In Anahim Lake, British Columbia, everyone was kind to each other. Generosity is a Canadian tradition, but the folks in my hometown took it to another level. Anahim Lake was a happy, peaceful town. Even though I am part of the First Nations community and looked different from all the other children at my school in the city, I was rarely bullied.

This explains why the current catastrophe affecting the Tampa Bay Lightning and my Montréal Canadiens shocks me and why I didn't speak up about my experiences when the first incident happened. When Cole Caufield, my young teammate, told me that he thought someone was haunting our teams, I recognized the signs of a spirit being present. However, since I had never encountered a mean or angry ghost before, I was clueless about what to do about this new development.

Now, things have gotten worse, and Gustav Nordin's near murder at the hands of the spirit made me realize that I need to take action.

Logically, the first thing that I must do is inform Cole that I can see Tom. Cole still believes that he and Gustav Nordin are the only people who can see and communicate with spirits. I haven't told my story to anyone who isn't related to me, so this will be a different experience.

"Cole," I greet the young rookie as we prepare for practice before the third finals contest. "I must speak to you about the ghost situation."
Cole is not surprised that I know about our team's supernatural experiences. After the incident with Gustav Nordin, everybody knows about them on both the Canadiens and the Lightning teams.

"What has occurred, Carey?" Cole inquires, and he begins to appear anxious. "Did the ghost attack somebody else? How do we get him to go away?"

"That's not what happened," I assure my concerned teammate. "I need to talk to you about my personal experiences as a child. They relate to the current times."

Cole blinks in confusion. "What did you experience as a child that involves spirits? Was your home haunted or something of the sort?"

"Yes," I respond, and Cole appears surprised. "My home was haunted. The barn where we kept the animals had visitors that weren't very alive. However, spirits dropped by every day, and I communicated with all of them. None of them ever attempted to harm the animals or me. Hell, I was never bullied, not even once! I'm just telling you that I have experience with the supernatural, even though it was overwhelmingly enjoyable."

"It's quite unlike my experience with the supernatural," Cole jokes. I greatly appreciate his willingness to joke despite him being clearly stressed.

"Exactly," I tell him, and he grins. "I am informing you of my past because I thought it might help our...investigation."

"Finding out what might make Tom leave us alone and allow us to compete for the Stanley Cup in peace and tranquility would be very helpful," Cole recognizes. "Do you think you could summon the ghosts from your hometown and request that they assist us?"

"They are extraordinarily generous," I inform him, and some of the tension leaves his body. "I am sure that they would be willing to help us. But unfortunately, I am not sure if I can summon them here. I can make an effort, though."

"Anything, Carey," Cole pleads, and desperation is in his voice. "If you are aware of something that could benefit us, try it. Please do attempt to have the kind ghosts appear."

"I will do everything I can to solve this situation," I promise him, and from the look on his face, he appears to believe me.

Minutes later, I am sitting cross-legged on the floor of the Montréal Canadiens locker room, which is a place that has brought me comfort for many years. I list the names of every Anahim Lake spirit with whom I have become acquainted and politely request that they come to Montréal quickly.

The five spirits that I have summoned appear moments later. I hold back a delighted shout as Jane, Catie, Elias, Neebin, and Mikom materialize in front of me. I politely greet them by bowing my head.

"Carey Price!" Neebin, an elderly Anishinaabe spirit, speaks first. "Aniin, my young friend. How have you been faring recently?"

"Aniin, Neebin," I greet her in the Ojibwe language. Ojibwe is not the language of my tribe, and I do not speak it fluently, but I know enough about it to be able to say hello to someone. "I've been doing alright. Unfortunately, my team, the Canadiens, has a deficit in the championship series, but I am delighted to be here. However, I have a little problem that extends beyond hockey. There is a wicked spirit haunting both of our teams. He is not nearly as kindhearted as the five of you are, and he continuously attempts to injure the players."

"From our past conversations, I have inferred that you have never before encountered a spirit as unkind as this one," says Catie.

"You are correct," I inform Catie, who is the ghost of a teacher who died during the influenza pandemic of 1918. "All of you are so considerate, unlike this new spirit. I have no idea what to do. He won't go away."

"We could speak with him," Elias suggests. "Do you know his name, Carey?"

"I believe his name is Tom," I report. "Please, if you're going to negotiate with him, do it quickly. He actually tried to murder one of the young Tampa Bay defensemen. I'm sure it won't be long before he attempts to kill another player, and his attempt may be successful this time around."

"You can trust us, young one," Mikom, an Anishinaabe man approximately the same age as Neebin, smiles warmly at me. "We will speak to him now, if possible. I will make him listen if he doesn't listen to us."

"Mikom isn't kidding," Jane points at the elderly man. "He looks like a cinnamon roll, but you do not, in any circumstance, want to piss him off. He'll convince this Tom person to let you all play your hockey games in peace, whether through compromise or force."

"Thanks, guys," I sigh with relief, looking at the five transparent faces before me. "I am confident your plan will work, and Tom will be gone soon."