Ghost Church

Mexico, December 28, 1875

It was late afternoon when Manuelo and his bandits entered the Mission gate. They saw a man in a monk's habit standing at the right end of the courtyard. He held what looked like a shepherd's staff and watched a group of other monks toiling in the fields beyond.

When the noise of Manuelo and his band reached the monks, the one with the staff glanced in their direction and shouted something to the other monks. Then he walked to the center of the courtyard, while the rest of the monks lifted their hoes and formed a triangular group behind him.

Manuelo rode up and stopped in front of the monks as the one with the staff addressed him, "I am Father Victor, welcome to our humble Mission. Are you the leader of this band?"

Manuelo sat straight up in the saddle, thrust out his chest and looked down his nose as he spoke, "Yes, padre, I am the great Manuelo!"

He leaned down and twisted his face into a sneer. "I am the most feared bandido in all of Mexico. I want food, drink and supplies for my men. We will look and see, if you have other things we want."

Father Victor showed no expression as he nodded. "We have water, food and supplies. You are welcome to them. I do not know what else you want, but we will not prevent you from taking anything."

Manuelo laughed scornfully. "You make big joke, Father! What you mean is: you cannot stop us from taking what we want!"

He turned to his men. "Pedro, my brother, you stay with me. Chico, look in the church for things of value. The rest of you, go look for food and drink."

When Manuelo’s men returned with meat, wine and bread, Chico was still in the church.

Finally, Manuelo called out loudly, "Chico, get out here!"

A wide-eyed Chico came out stumbling in his rush to get back to Manuelo. "You cannot believe the treasures in the church. There are large chests of gold and silver coins, and gold crosses of all sizes. I saw silver candlesticks and other things I do not know. And by the altar is a wooden cross with blood on it."

Manuelo tossed his saddlebags to Chico. "Fill my bags with gold coins. Pedro, you and the rest go take what you can carry. I will remain here and watch our hosts."

The men came back from the church staggering with the burden of their heavy saddlebags. All but Chico mounted their horses after loading the saddlebags.

Chico grunted as he swung the saddlebags over the back of Manuelo's horse. "Here are yours. Now I go back for mine."

As he grabbed his own saddlebags and started toward the church, a shot was fired. He stopped and turned to see what happened.

Pedro had raised his revolver and shot a monk stepping out of the triangle with a raised hoe. Immediately, a cloud enveloped Pedro and his mind started to go blank.

Before Pedro's mind dimmed completely, he heard a fading voice saying, "Thank you, Señor. I can rest now you are taking my place."

Pedro's mental facilities returned shortly to find himself standing where the monk had been, in the monk's habit holding a hoe. He had no control over his body, although he was aware of what was going on around him.

His body faced the front of the group and his eyes were fixed on his horse. It now had a new rider, a man in a type of clothes Pedro had never seen before. The man wobbled back and forth before falling from the horse, dead.

Pedro heard another voice in his head. "Welcome, I have wanted a new body for a long time."

Manuelo looked at the fading cloud around his brother and saw a stranger falling to the ground. He turned angrily to Father Victor. "What did you do to my brother? Where is he?"

"He is gone to another place."

Manuelo shouted, "I know he is gone! This is the home of the devil! We are leaving before you take more of my men!"

Father Victor smiled. "We will wait until you return the donations to the Mission."

You will wait forever!" Manuelo shouted as he raised his revolver and shot the priest.

The sound of the shot still echoed in the courtyard as clouds formed around the two of them. Manuelo heard a fading voice thanking him and hoping his wait would be long. His mind went blank for a short period. When Manuelo was again aware of his surroundings, the cloud had disappeared.

He stood in Father Victor's position, wore the padre's apparel and heard a voice inside his head. "Welcome, Manuelo, my other body was becoming quite old, I needed your young one."

The rest of the men watched, horrified, as the cloud dissipated and another man, in ragged shirt and trousers, fell from Manuelo's horse. The two deaths were just too much and they spurred their horses out the gate of the courtyard.

Chico dropped his saddlebags, ran, jumped on his horse and took off to join them. The horsemen rode out of the courtyard and onto the cleared area leading to the perimeter of the Mission. As they passed the border, a strange cloud surrounded all but Chico.

Chico swerved his horse around the cloud. He rode another fifty feet, pulled on the reins and looked back. His six companions were no longer in sight. What he saw, filled him with dread.

Six men in monk's habits held the horses' reins and slowly guided them back to the church. On the ground, were six dead men whom Chico had never seen before.

As he looked, one of the monks turned. Chico's eyes widened in horror when he recognized the face of one of his companions. The monk slowly raised his hand and waved at Chico.

It was too much for Chico's mind to handle. His face took on a wild crazed look, his head and eyes darted back and forth, and spittle dribbled from his mouth.

Chico rode back to Felipe's camp, babbling to himself. He was unaware of the mysterious force guiding him and his mount. If he had looked back, he would have noticed the hooves of his horse left no evidence of its passing.