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Paranormal sleuths try to summon dead at bridge By Brett Buckner The Anniston Star

OXFORD -- From beneath an impenetrable veil of darkness, a single voice summons the dead.

"Is there anyone with us tonight?" shouts Lance Johnston. "Can you give us a sign?"

His questions hang heavy in the air, met only by the cicada's lonesome lullaby and the hum of distant traffic. From above, the quarter moon is a gaping wound in the night sky, illuminating sickly tree limbs that grab at Johnston's T-shirt like skeletal fingers, while the murky river churns far below.

Staring into the gloom, Johnston interrogates the unseen and listens for answers from beyond the grave.

"Can you tell me your name?" he calls. "Can you tell me how you died?"

This is how horror movies start -- a foolishly brave soul stands at the edge of an abyss, daring its evil spirits to appear. Screams and R-rated carnage soon follow.

But for the Oxford Paranormal Society, prowling over an abandoned bridge is part of the job.

Especially if that bridge is known as Hell's Gate.

"Everybody loves a good ghost story," said OPS founding member Dewey Nelson, climbing over the concrete barricade that blocks oncoming traffic. "And we love disproving them."

The bridge, in the woods about two miles from the Oxford Exchange, supposedly was cursed back in the 1950s. A couple was speeding through the night when the driver lost control. The car plunged into the dark, freezing waters below, trapping and drowning everyone inside.

But the story doesn't end there. According to legend, when anyone crosses the bridge at night, stops and turns off their headlights, one of the lovers climbs into the passenger seat, leaving behind a wet seat.

It's also said if someone stands in the center of the bridge, and quickly looks over their shoulder, they'll see the fiery gates of hell, which gives the bridge its name and conjures an aura of mystery.

Ghost hunting, Nelson said, is all about the mindset.

"If you wanna see a ghost, especially in a place like this, it's real easy," he said. "We just come in to see whatever there is to see.

"We all want proof, but proof is hard to find."

And it takes a lot of equipment.

These guys aren't bumbling around in the dark. They carry an arsenal of high-tech gadgets, including monitors to track magnetic fields, various audio recorders, temperature/humidity/barometric pressure meters for explaining and defining cold spots, camcorders with infrared lights and enough flashlights to penetrate even the most unholy darkness.

"I don't have anything that says, Hey, here's a ghost,'" said Johnston, OPS tech manager. "But I've got a whole lot of stuff that says where there's not one."

Nelson, Jennifer Hall and Johnston founded the OPS in 2006 as a way to investigate local legends and ghost stories. The week before the Hell's Gate Bridge investigation, OPS members gathered in the shade of a monstrous elm tree at Edgemont Cemetery. With acres of dead serving as silent reminders of their paranormal search, OPS members Johnston, Nelson, Hall and Kevin Woodrow discussed the art of ghost hunting.

"It really doesn't take much," Hall said. "Just an open mind ... and strong nerves."

Hall is the self-professed skeptic of the group, cautious to believe anything he can't see with his own eyes or hear with his own ears.

"And so far, I've proven myself right," he said, "because we haven't seen anything ... yet."

It's not for lack of looking. Though still new to the business, the OPS has already investigated a handful of cases, with several more scheduled for the coming months.

One of their first investigations was Cemetery Hill in Munford, where legend says the woods are haunted by an old man searching for his lost hunting dog. While that case proved to be unsuccessful, the OPS continues to search. They recently visited Birmingham's Sloss Furnaces and the Waverly Hills Sanitarium in Louisville, Ky., believed by many to be one of the most haunted places in America.

"And we didn't see much of anything," Nelson said, shrugging. "It was creepy, but we didn't find any evidence of paranormal activity."

This is of course the goal-recorded, photographed, videotaped or otherwise irrefutable proof. And despite what the skeptic might expect, the OPS approaches a case, whether a home or public property, with professionalism.

For example, the OPS plans to investigate a 1900s-era house on Oxford's Main Street. The owner, who didn't want to be identified, has heard tapping on windows, shuffling across empty rooms, banging noises late at night and old music drifting through the house.

Before an investigation, clients fill out a questionnaire to gauge the legitimacy of a claim. OPS documents each case on its Web site, www.oxfordparanormalsociety.com, but details are released only with permission.

"If they don't want people to know, they'll never know from us," Johnston said. "We take their privacy very seriously."

The paperwork prepares those involved on what to expect for an all-night investigation.

"Too many people go in looking to see a ghost or looking to be scared," Woodrow said. "They'll go in, it's dark and confusing and everything gets blown out of proportion.

"But when you go in no matter how scary it seems at first after six or so hours, everything becomes normal."

Whether called to investigate a house or shining a flashlight in the face of an urban legend, OPS members aren't necessarily looking for ghosts. They want answers.

"Proof? That's easier than it sounds," Johnston said. "Let's just say there are ghosts that cause disturbances in our daily lives. They aren't doing it 24 hours a day. So what're the odds of being there on the right night, the right six hours and having your cameras pointed in the right direction to catch it?

"It's all about luck. That can be good or bad, pending on your point of view."

On this night, Hell's Gate did not open. There were no sightings of drowned lovers seeking passage to the other side.

After making a final journey across the bridge, Hall descends the paved road into darkness. Hunched around a computer monitor powered by a Wal-Mart trolling motor, he and the other OPS members watch and wait; their faces contorted in the green glow of the camera's night vision.

For a long moment, no one speaks or breathes.

Every sound is amplified.

Every shadow is alive.

Every movement is haunted.

"All we've seen so far are armadillos," Hall says, breaking the reverie. "But we'll keep looking ... if not here, somewhere else."