Gettysburg: Untold Stories

The soft, bright yellow Pennsylvania sun was making its way toward the horizon, moving slowly as if reluctant to leave us in the dark. I wasn’t afraid of being left alone, though; my three best friends were sitting beside me, and darkness was the place in which we thrived. We were all sitting on a centuries old porch in Gettysburg, Philadelphia, waiting for our interviewee and taking a small break from our hectic day of filming and interviewing. I sighed loudly before lifting the bottle of vodka to my lips for a swig; I needed a little buzz, okay? It was hard working all day with these three stubborn men that never seemed to get enough of walking around and exploring things.

“Looks like they’re not gonna show up,” Nick muttered, and I heard him getting up from the rocking chair on the porch. The wooden floorboards creaked under his weight, and I could hear each step he took toward the stairs that led to the front yard. Zak and I had been sitting on the top step, and we both pushed over to let him pass between us and step onto the grass. Nick turned to stand in front of us, and I could see Zak shaking his head.

“It’s only been fifteen minutes, bro,” I rolled my eyes at Zak’s chiding comment. He always, always, gave our interviewees an hour before leaving (and yes, they normally showed up within that hour). But it was getting dark and cold, and I was getting majorly tired and bored from just sitting here. These boys had never been much of talkers, unless they were watching a movie or drinking alcohol, and when they weren’t doing that, what they wanted to talk about was useless anyway.

“Can we just…go?” I tried to make myself sound as annoyed as possible. Being the only girl in this group, it was easy to convince the three boys to let me get my way. Nagging and whining normally worked when they were being stubborn, but sometimes they would be smart and give me my way in the first place. Of course, Zak kept right on shaking his head as if I didn’t know what I was talking about. I sighed in exasperation (and even threw in a little grunt for dramatic effect) and got up from the stairs to stand next to Nick. “C’mon, Zak, don’t be stubborn…” Unfortunately, asking Zak not to be stubborn was like asking him not to style his hair in the morning.

“I’m not leavin’ until an hour passes. You all,” he took a good look at all three of us, “know I’m gonna stick to that.” Aaron groaned loudly from the porch (which he had quietly been rocking in a chair on), and I laughed because that meant he was probably hungry.

“Come on, bro! I’m freakin’ hungry and we have filming tomorrow too, ‘member?” I turned to see Aaron shaking his head and tapping his foot nervously. “I want to get some sleep before you wake me up at the crack of dawn!” Okay, it was true. Zak did take a while to get ready, but he woke up early to make up for lost time; he was normally the one banging on our hotel rooms to wake us up. I was never the one to care for personal appearances, so I would just throw on some foundation and clothes and get the fuck out of my room before Zak opened the door himself. Either way, I was as tired as Aaron, and from the sounds of it probably just as pissed.

“I’m not leavin’, bro. And you’re not either.” Zak turned around to give Aaron a hard stare, but Aaron just scoffed and shook his head while looking at the floorboards of the porch. Oh, was I getting upset. Yes, Zak was normally the leader of our group, and he was usually a good one, but I was becoming sick and tired of his “listen to me or die” attitude. No way in hell was I going to let him walk over me and my needs.

“The hell we’re not!” I walked over to stand right in front of Zak. He looked up at me with a “WTF?” look on his face, but I just kept going; once I started a rant, it was hard to stop me. “Nick, Aaron, and I,” I glanced at both of them to make sure they were paying attention (and they were, with eyeballs almost popping out of their heads) and continued, “are going back to the hotel. If you want to stay here and wait for the interviewee, fine. But you can also wait until morning for us to come back and get you.” I crossed my arms over my chest.

“Uh, yeah,” Nick mumbled, and I could see him rubbing the back of his neck nervously out of the corner of my eye. Aaron just started muttering to himself (probably about how right I was) and got up from his rocking chair, sauntered over to where Nick and I were standing, and put his hands in his pockets.

This whole time, Zak had just kept a surprised look on his face. When Aaron came to stand next to Nick and I, he looked from Nick to Aaron to me as if they would help him with this “situation.” Zak was a stubborn-ass fool, and though he was my friend, he needed it knocked out of him. I knew once the three of us walked away, Zak would be following us to the van. Granted, he would be cursing to himself the whole way there, and would probably threaten us quite a few times if we didn’t turn around and go back, but he would never be left alone out here.

“Couple of pussies,” Zak muttered like I knew he would once we turned around, “can’t even stick around for less than a fucking hour…” I almost turned around and said something at that, but it wouldn’t be worth it. So I just kept walking in between Nick and Aaron toward our huge black van. Yes, our van was creepy; yes, it was huge and bulky; yes, I enjoyed it because I could sleep in the back seat on long rides home. I climbed into the passenger seat while Nick drove and Zak and Aaron claimed the two back seats, probably because they wanted to fall asleep on the ride back to the hotel.

Okay, honestly, I was extremely excited about this Gettysburg lockdown that we would be doing in a few days. Out of all the places that I’ve investigated with the boys (which hasn’t been many—I only started at the beginning of this season), this is the one with the most meaning to me. Considering the fact that if it weren’t for the Civil War and the lives that these men gave to protect what they believed in, everything could be radically different…it made me shudder just thinking about it.

I looked in the rearview mirror and just had to poke Nick and snicker at how pissed Zak looked with his earphones in and the way he was staring out the window. He started to chuckle as well, and it reminded me how much Nick was like a brother to me. We laughed at the same things, joked at the same time, and we just got each other. Though I had never liked Nick in “that” kind of way, I still loved him like family and treated him like family, too. The same went for Aaron, because he was just a goofball and I loved it.

For Zak, it was a different story. At “family” gatherings, Zak seemed rather distant from me; he would always joke around with Nick and Aaron, but when I got around he just seemed to…drift, like I was a disease or something. Normally, Zak would be charming a cute girl up, but with me he just zoned out and acted like I wasn’t there. I couldn’t figure out why, and that’s probably why I was so hard-headed and bitchy around him; I just wanted him to like me… Why couldn’t he like me? I was on his team (literally!), for God’s sake!

Whatever. Nick and I just shrugged at each other, because we knew Zak would be Zak, and no one could change that. We decided (through quiet mumbling, because Aaron was snoring comfortably—and loudly—in the back seat) to just head back to the hotel, and whoever wanted room service could get it themselves. All four of us had a long day ahead tomorrow, whether it was Nick’s extensive planning that needed to get done, or Aaron’s complicated tech setup, or Zak’s just…looking pretty, I guess. Normally, I was just around for an extra camera, but I was also partially GAC’s “manager,” I like to call it; I would call around and see if there were any places for us to investigate, set up interviews, etc. etc. Plus, Zak usually placed me as "bait" or a trigger object for male entities. Granted, this wasn't always safe, but I dealt with it because I was tough...most times. Anyway, we all had jobs to do, and they needed to get done while we were fully awake.

Nick and I had to shake Aaron (violently) to wake him up when we got back to the hotel. Zak, however, seemed to be in his own little world while he hummed and bobbed his head to the music that was blasting out of his earphones as he unloaded his stuff and rushed back inside. He didn’t even tell us “goodnight” or anything! Geez, something had gotten up his ass; yeah, he was normally a dick, but not this bad. When Nick and I had exchanged an annoyed look with each other, we just unloaded the stuff and brought it upstairs via elevator. Zak was nowhere to be found when we got upstairs, of course, so we all assumed he had already gone to bed (or had decided to stare at himself in the mirror for a little while to get his daily dose).

I waved goodnight to Nick and Aaron and dropped all of my bags by the door to unlock it. Once it was open, I dragged all of my heavy luggage inside and dumped it right next to the door, then headed off to the bathroom. When I got in front of the mirror, I was stopped by the dark bags under my eyes. Sure, I was tired, but I didn’t know I was completely pooped! My dark brown hair looked crazy and windblown, but that wasn’t that big of a deal; the boys didn’t care what I looked like, and neither did I. Only when I was on camera did I (barely) look attractive. I closed my eyes tightly before opening them again and starting to take off all of my dark clothes in order to get in the shower.

Okay. The all-black thing was definitely not my style. When you’re a ghost hunter, though, you have to keep things simple so that you’re not always looking like, “Hey! I’m a freak; look at me!” Or at least, that’s what I thought the reasoning was behind having to wear a black shirt (or jacket in this case; it was freezing in Philly!), black jeans, and black shoes. Zak probably just wore it because he was a freak, Nick probably did it to blend in with the dark at night, and Aaron…just followed suit like me, I guess.

Anyway, I stepped into the hot running water of the shower and soothed my thoughts. It could get pretty stressful, walking around and trying to take care of fifty things at once because the three other able-bodied personnel didn’t “have time to” (when the real reason was not feeling like doing it). Plus, I had been under some serious duress lately because of the location; I never felt good when there was so much death around the place. Shuddering, I realized that thousands of men had died on that battlefield. Thousands! It was scary just to think of.

Shaking off those foreboding thoughts, I finished my shower and got dressed in a nice comfortable pair of sweats (which I had unfortunately had to dig to find) and a warm sweatshirt. I walked around the room for a while, trying to get a feel for what it had to offer. It was cozy, and definitely tight quarters, but at least it was just me. Just me…all alone…as usual… Gee, I hadn’t meant to get so depressed over being alone, but it was true; I hadn’t had someone to hang out with in a couple of months. Yes, the “Crew” and I went out for drinks every once in a while, but that wasn’t fun for me. It wasn’t staying up late and watching movies with your girlfriends and talking about how (unfortunately) attractive Zak was and how (unfortunately) lucky I was to be driving around the country with three guys (besides Nick, who was married). Hanging out with three guys just wasn’t the same.

I just sighed in exasperation about how lonely I realized I was and plopped straight down onto the bed. Without pulling the covers over myself, I rolled over on my side and wondered how it would feel to not be alone. Maybe even to have a boyfriend; eesh, the thought just gave me the shivers. Finally deciding that it was time to go to bed, I pulled the covers over myself and drifted off to sleep.


I opened my eyes and realized I was still in the dining room chair. Oh, no, I must have dozed off; I really hoped the eggs hadn't burned! Last night wasn't a good night for me, because I knew that he would be coming home today, and I just couldn't sleep because of the excitement. Of course, he would be going back tomorrow, but at least I would be able to see him for the first time in six months.

The eggs weren't burned when I got to the wood burning stove. Good, he wouldn't be disappointed with his meager breakfast, and though it was small and the best I could do, I hoped he would enjoy it. Putting the eggs on a plate, I hummed to myself the lullaby that we would sing to little John when he was still here... I sighed and sat down at the table again to wait for knocks to sound on the door. As I sat there, I pondered over how difficult it must be for him to be out there, fighting for the sake of our country and still having to worry about what was going on with me at home. He probably missed poor baby John as well, and it was saddening to realize there was nothing I could do about that...

We lost John to the yellow fever when he was three months old. I cried for weeks, and he seemed to be getting along fine until he heard crying in the other room and went to check on his son, then realized that he wasn't there. He came back into our bedroom crying, and I only held him and told him it would be alright; I couldn't let him see that I was crying too. That would just let him see how weak I was and how painful it truly was for me as well. We couldn't dwell on this forever, and there was always another chance.

Sighing sadly, I looked out of the small window of our kitchen and watched the sun come up. My heart jumped a little when I realized that he would be home within the next hour; of course, he would have been up at dawn, but he would have packed and made the long walk here, which would probably take an hour since he was all the way in town.

As I straightened out my skirt nervously for what seemed like the hundredth time, I heard a slight knocking on the door. I bolted out of the chair and ran, barefooted, to the front door. Swinging the door wide open, I smiled when I saw that gray Union jacket and his hat held across his chest. His head was bowed and I could see that his mouth was in a straight line.

"You're finally home..." I whispered, and he looked up at me. His eyes were bright with excitement, and the side of his mouth came up in a smile. Those blue-gray eyes made me take a step back. Zak? What...



I awoke to the sound of banging on the door. Gasping loudly because it startled me, I pushed the covers off of my legs quickly and sat up against the pillow. That was a weird dream, for sure, but it was probably just something I felt from the location we went to yesterday. The banging came again, and I realized it was probably Zak wanting to wake me up. I glanced at the clock, and... Shit! I was late. No wonder he was banging so loudly. Oh well, it would be funny to listen to how pissed he would get, and sometimes he made good offers to make me wake up, like free breakfast or doing my clothes for a week... Anyway.

“Hey! Hey Bambi! Bambi wake up!” Oh, my name’s not really Bambi, by the way; it’s really Mariah. Thing is, when I was younger, my mom used to call me Bambi because I loved the Disney movie. Since she was gone, I liked to be called what she considered me as: her Bambi. Now that I’ve gotten all sentimental, let’s get back to torturing Zak by thinking he was torturing me. “C’mon Bambi, I don’t have time for this bullshit!” Zak was probably going to wake everyone down the hallway, and honestly, it would be freaking hilarious if he got in trouble with the security people. I wouldn’t say a damn thing, either. “Oh sorry, officer, was he knocking at my door? I don’t even recognize him!” I had to chuckle at my little vision of getting Zak in trouble, but the banging was starting to give me a headache now.

I trudged over to the door and leaned in close so he could hear me through without having to raise my voice and wake the neighbors. “Sorry, I don’t open the door for assholes who don’t say ‘please.’” When I said that, the knocking stopped, and I heard him muttering to himself again. What a weirdo, huh?

“Sorry. Let me the fuck in please.” He said the “please” sarcastically, but I knew that was all I was going to get out of him. I unlocked the door and in stumbles in Mr. I’m-So-Attractive-Even-Baggy-Pants-Look-Good. Yes, Zak was attractive. Yes, I kind of had a crush on his amazingly hot body. But no, I was never ever going to be nice to him if he continued to treat me like a fucking prostitute with leprosy. Hell no, bro. Hell to the N-O.

“Well, good morning, Mr. Sunshine. I see you’re feeling mighty kind today.” He gave me a look with so much annoyance that I just stuck my tongue out at him. And he smiled at it. Okay, Zak and I could be on good terms at times, and sometimes I even considered myself his friend, but those were normally the times when he was too drunk to know the difference or too heartbroken to be mean. Zak was, deep down (extremely deep, deep down), a good guy and I knew it, but he had this wall that he built up with people. I used to have that wall too—when I was eighteen. Zak just needed to grow up in some areas (not that I didn’t like his playful immaturity at times). He was probably just grumpy today, and I couldn’t blame him; I was too.

“Just listen to me, Bambi,” he said while putting his hands in his jeans pockets, “we have a lot of shit to get done today. You have to help us stay organized, because, well, that’s technically your job. So just get ready for a batshit crazy day, okay?” It wasn’t normal for Zak to give me warnings like this, but considering that we were investigating Gettysburg, it could quite possibly bend some rules that we normally had set in place.

“Uh, okay. I’ll be ready.” I told him, and he nodded before leaving me alone again. I really wanted to just climb back into bed and sleep again, but like Zak said, there was “a lot of shit” to be done. Looking at all of my equipment, I decided to just call a bellhop and have him lug it all downstairs for me again. After I made the phone call to the front desk, I went to the bathroom to get dressed for another cool day.