Condemned

by Christopher Renna

  "Doesn't mean we shouldn't," she said. "We all knew him. We're in the house where he lived and died. It's like a part of his spirit still lingers here. And no, I'm not talking about his ghost."

  "Okay," Adam said. "Everyone hold hands so Hailey can say a prayer, then we can go home."

  "Wait." Hailey glanced around. "Which bedroom was his? We should do it in there."

  Conner motioned toward the far end of the hall. "It's the last door on the left."

  Adam led the group down the hall to the window that overlooked the backyard. He rested his hand on the doorknob, then glanced at Conner and Trevor. "You guys ready?"

  He pushed the door open but then stopped with a gasp. "What the hell?"

  Conner quickened his steps to the doorway. He raised his hand to his nose. "It smells like dirty mop water and piss in here."

  "Dirty piss water," Adam said.

  Inside the bedroom, Jared's bed—stripped of bedding— remained in its usual spot but at a slight angle. Apparently the bathroom door had been pried from the doorjamb. It sat against the wall, its silver hinges shining faintly in the darkness. Two cracks in the drywall extended from the baseboard to the ceiling, where they forked out across the room in separate directions. A piece of plywood nailed to the wall blocked the still-curtained window. A large hole in the corner had been punched or kicked into the drywall, the Sheetrock protruding like jagged teeth of a mouth screaming in anguish.

  Trevor pushed past Conner and entered the room. "Oh, my God. Why does the room look like this?"

  Peeking over Conner's shoulder, Hailey cried, "It was true."

  Miguel, Jasmine, and Zach pushed their way into the doorway, which drove everyone else farther into the room.

  Surveying the room, Conner said, "All his stuff is gone. The books and pictures and trophies. Everything. But why is his bed the only thing left in the house?"

  "Maybe his folks thought it was cursed," Zach said. "They didn't wanna take something evil with them."

  Jasmine agreed. "He was probably tied to the bed like in that movie The Exorcist."

  "Never saw it," Trevor said.

  Zach echoed Trevor's admission.

  Adam shivered. "Does it seem even colder in here?"

  "Shut up," Miguel blurted. "Don't scare us."

  "I'm serious."

  "What's that?" Hailey asked, pointing to the floor under the bed.

  The hardwood appeared to have been scratched with an object. A tool perhaps. In the darkness and not fully exposed, it was difficult to determine if the etching was a word or an image.

  Conner stepped forward and used his phone to illuminate the floor. "I don't know. We'll have to move the bed to see it."

  "It really stinks," Jasmine said. "Hurry up so we can get the hell outta here."

  Kneeling, Adam directed the light from his phone.

  Trevor rounded the bed and gripped the headboard. "You guys ready?"

  The slam of a door resonated throughout the house.

  Half the group jumped with fright, and the other half staggered as though they were about to run out of the room.

  "Quiet."

  "Don't move."

  "Shh."

  "What the hell was that?"

  "Let's go."

  "Wait."

  "Calm down."

  A silvery blue light arched across a wall in the bathroom.

  Everyone bolted out of the room.

  Conner grabbed Hailey's hand and tugged her along the hallway. Outside the back window, the security light detected motion and brightened behind the partially closed curtain.

  Reaching the stairs, Jasmine and Zach suddenly froze. She screamed, and he yelped in terror as though he'd seen a ghost—or a demon. The rest of the group bumped into each other, losing their balance as they craned to look down the steps.

  Conner pushed Zach aside.

  A dark figure stood at the foot of the stairs.

  Then a blinding light caused Conner to squint.

  A deep voice yelled, "Police! Nobody move!"

  SIX

  At first there was a sense of relief. Then the panic set in.

  The police. In trouble. Parents called. A stern lecture. Although Conner's parents might threaten a punishment, they rarely carried out their threat. Still, he didn't look forward to the embarrassed and critical gaze of his parents.

  "Everyone downstairs, right now," the bald-headed policeman ordered. Appearing to be in his midthirties, he looked like a man who thought he had something to prove to his department.

  Conner's eyes swept from Hailey to Trevor. Then he walked down the stairs in the lead.

  "Stand over by the door."

  Outside, a silvery blue light passed by a dining room window.

  "What the hell are you kids doing in here? You know this is breaking and entering, don't you?"

  "We didn't break in," Adam said. "We totally know the family that lived here."

  "Do you have permission to be in here?"

  After a moment of silence, the officer said, "The answer's no." He motioned toward the kitchen. "Obviously you came in through the back door. So, let's go. Everyone head out."

  In the backyard, a second policeman clicked off his flashlight.

  Once everyone was outside, the first officer said, "All right. I want your names and your parents' phone numbers."

  "Are you arresting us?" Hailey asked with a slight tremble to her voice. "We didn't do anything bad."

  * * *

  Conner expected a dimly lit police lobby with officers passing by, coffee and junk food in hand, maybe paperwork, and potential felons handcuffed to a bench. But the scene was far less energized and far more mundane than he'd anticipated. Seven teenagers being escorted inside by two officers seemed to be the most interesting thing happening at that moment.

  When his parents arrived, their entrance was just as he'd imagined. His father strolled into the lobby as if more inconvenienced than concerned. And his mother walked in with a look that demanded I–want–to–speak–to–the–person–in–charge–NOW.

  Trevor's parents entered soon after.

  Then Adam's dad walked in with Miguel's mother. Jasmine's father arrived with Hailey's parents, who appeared distraught as though their daughter had been arrested for shoplifting or vandalizing property.

  Zach's parents hadn't yet made an appearance.

  Shaking his head, Conner's dad sat next to him and slapped him on the knee. "I suspect I don't need to ask what influenced your decision tonight."

  "We didn't do anything that would get us arrested."

  "Breaking and entering is something people get arrested for."

  "You know what I mean."

  His mother stationed herself next to the bench. "This was totally uncalled for. They should be out looking for real criminals."

  Conner watched Trevor's mom, Diedre, march to her son at the neighboring bench.

  "Trevor Helms, you've got to be kidding me. What happened to your good judgement? This situation could have ended in a much more horrifying manner."

  "Ma," he said, "calm down. Everything's cool."

  "Cool? You think being hauled into the police station is cool? You're an African American man, Trevor. Thank God you were with Adam and Conner. I'm sure the sight of white skin kept the cops from aiming their guns."

  "Ma, you're being dramatic."

  "You see the same news stories that your father and I see. Don't be ignorant."

  Conner's mom rubbed Diedre's arm. "Our boys shouldn't be in trouble for any of this."

  The women continued to talk in whispers.

  Glancing to the side, Conner caught sight of Hailey, crying while her parents scolded her.

  The officer who'd discovered them in the house appeared. "All right," he said. "Mr. Smith doesn't want to pursue this matter. So, we're not pressing charges against anyone."

  "Of course not," Conner's mother said. "You're just harassing a bunch of teenagers."

  "They entered property withou
t permission."

  "I understand, but this is ridiculous. They knew the Smith family."

  "Jen," Conner's dad said, "Let the man finish talking so everyone can go home."

  "Like I said," the officer continued. "No charges will be filed. But you kids have been warned. Don't go back to that house. The Smiths won't be so generous next time. Is that understood?"

  Everyone mumbled a variation of yes.

  "The neighbor who called in the disturbance told me why you kids were probably there. Don't listen to crazy gossip. You all could have gotten into much more trouble tonight if the Smiths weren't so forgiving."

  "What gossip?" Diedre asked.

  "Ask your kid," the officer said, then walked away.

  "Trevor, what's he talking about?"

  "Let's go home, Ma."

  Conner's dad rose to his feet. "Yeah, let's all go home."

  "Oh, shit," Zach muttered as his dad walked into the station.

  "What the hell, son? What trouble did you get into now?"

  "Nothing, Dad. We're not in trouble. They're letting us go."

  "Well, get your ass in the car, then."

  As Conner's dad pulled out of the parking lot, he said, "Would you like to tell us what you guys thought you'd accomplish by going inside that house?"

  "I don't know."

  "You don't know? You must have had a reason."

  "Yes," his mother said, "I agree with your father. What the hell were you thinking? Why would you guys go into a family's home uninvited?"

  "They don't live there anymore."

  "What do you mean? How could they not live there anymore?"

  "They moved, Mom. After Jared died. They got the hell outta that house. It was empty. Well, almost empty."

  "Almost?" his dad asked.

  "Yeah. Everything was gone except for Jared's bed."

  His mother turned toward the back seat. "Everything but Jared's bed? Why would they leave that?"

  "Does it really matter? Can't we just go home without talking about all of this?"

  "No." She faced forward again. "I'd like to know."

  Conner met his dad's eyes in the rearview mirror.

  "This is about the gossip the officer mentioned?" his father asked.

  "Yeah. We wanted to check out the house to see if we could maybe figure out what happened to Jared."

  His mother glanced over her shoulder. "What's to figure out?"

  "Um. Well, we wanted to . . ."

  "What? You wanted to what?"

  Conner exhaled heavily. "We thought we might figure out if he was possessed by the devil."

  For a moment she appeared intrigued, if not somewhat confused. Then she snickered in the way that always reminded Conner that his mother had once been a young girl. "You can't be serious."

  "I know it sounds crazy, Mom. But that's the story. And all of us are starting to believe that it's true."

  "Oh, dear Lord, Conner. Your friend passed away. Don't do this to his memory. Don't get yourself mixed up in the rumor mill."

  "But Mom, his bedroom really looked like something happened there. Maybe something bad. Something like an exorcism. And that's why we think—"

  "Stop talking about that. We're not a religious family. We don't go to church, but we're a Christian family. And talk about the devil and exorcism, it's not right."

  Turning onto the next street, Conner's dad said, "Let the gossip die down, Conner. The longer you and your friends are preoccupied by it, the longer it'll take for the story to go away."

  His mother shook her head as if still amused.

  Conner slouched and brought his knees up to the back of his father's seat. Glancing out at the darkened street of his neighborhood, he muttered, "Uh, huh. I guess so."

  "This possessed–by–the–devil story," his dad said. "You know it's a crazy story, right? You can't possibly believe that it's true. There are medical and mental explanations for that type of thing."

  "I don't know, Dad. Strange things happen to all kinds of people."

  "I understand you and all the other kids are trying to make sense of Jared's death. But a story about the devil? C'mon, buddy, use your common sense."

  * * *

  Trevor's mother walked into their house first and then turned to his father. "Steven. Our son could have been arrested."

  "But he wasn't," he replied. "Teenagers do stupid stuff. We did. So hopefully he learned a lesson."

  "He's an African American man who can't pull stunts like this," she said. "That's a valuable lesson. The consequences could be far more severe than a slap on the wrist for a mistake."

  "Ma," Trevor said, "I'm not stupid about how my skin color might affect my life."

  "It shouldn't. Unfortunately, it does. And you can't ignore that fact in favor of doing something stupid with your friends."

  Steven kneaded Diedre's shoulders. "Let's all sit and talk about this. Then we can relax and put this behind us."

  Trevor plopped onto the beige suede sofa with a groan.

  "All right, sweetheart." She sat in the matching chair across from him. "You're on the threshold of going out into the big, bad world."

  He'd had this conversation with his parents before. Don't put yourself in harm's way. Be smart. Be respectful. Don't be perceived as a threat. The conversation had been altered over the years, but the theme remained the same.

  "For a moment," his father said, "think about how tonight could have ended differently. What if it was only you in that house? Or you and a couple of your Black friends. Do you think the policemen would have treated you differently?"

  Trevor thought about standing at the top of the stairs and looking down at the officer. He imagined the policeman aiming his gun and shooting without hesitation. He didn't want to believe it could have happened that way. But he had to accept that it very well could have. "Yeah, it's possible the police would have treated me and my Black friends differently."

  Relaxing in the chair, his mother nodded as if she'd accomplished her goal. Her expression shifted from dour to sympathetic. "Your father told me about this devil business. Which, I must point out, is absurd. What on earth made you think that going into that house would prove an exorcism took place there?"

  Trevor sensed an impending interrogation. "Ma, don't question me like I'm a suspect in a court case."

  She narrowed her eyes. "Excuse me?"

  "No offense, but Dad said we should talk and move on. I don't want to feel like I'm defending myself and my friends."

  "I'm not asking you to defend yourself. I'm asking you to explain yourself."

  "Isn't that the same thing?"

  "Actually no, it's not."

  * * *

  Adam sat at the top of the stairs and listened to his parents argue that their son was behaving recklessly. "Nerves in overdrive because of school and basketball," his mother said. "Teenage rebellion," his father suggested.

  In his bedroom, he fell onto his bed and stretched his arms above his head. They ached because of the game. His left knee throbbed, and he worried that it might be an ACL injury. Perhaps his emotional high from winning the game had clouded his judgement. What he'd initially considered a dull ache now felt warm and painful. He gently massaged the spot directly above his knee.

  Being hauled down to the police station and the possible knee injury brought the thought of college to the forefront of his mind. He couldn't afford to screw up his chances at playing for a good school. But he also considered himself a valuable recruit. A few schools had outright told him so. Therefore, he believed that the trip to the police station wouldn't ruin his chances at college. Besides, he hadn't been arrested. He and his friends were treated like dumb teenagers who'd been caught doing dumb things. Stupid teenagers don't think about the consequences.

  He dressed in a T-shirt and shorts, then texted Conner. Dude.

  What's up?

  U in serious trouble?

  No. U?

  Nope.

  Good. Told mom about Jared and she
laughed at me.

  Story is hard to believe.

  Yeah.

  Adam looked out his window. Conner's bedroom light was on. I'm hungry and my knee aches. Can I come over?

  For food or u need me to work on ur knee?

  Both.

  Ok. Leftover pasta.

  Be over in a few.

  Minutes later, Adam found Conner in the kitchen, placing two bowls of pasta onto the table. "Hey. Smells good."

  "Mom made pesto penne. There's chopped chicken too if you want to add it to your bowl."

  Sitting, Adam shook his head. "No protein overload."

  "How does your knee feel?"

  "Hurts a little."

  "Is it getting worse or just exertion from the game?"

  "I don't know." Adam spooned pasta into his mouth. "Thankfully, it's not constant. So that's good."

  "You should get it checked out."

  "Yeah, I know."

  "Are you scared to?"

  Yeah, because basketball is my ticket into college. Can't do it with so-so grades and hardly any money. "A little. But I'm probably just stressing myself about it. I'll be fine."

  "You need to mention it to Coach. The athletic trainer can take a look at your knee."

  During the remainder of their meal, they discussed the night's game and the trip to the police station. Then they headed upstairs to Conner's bedroom. In the hall, they ran into Conner's father.

  "What are you two up to?" he asked.

  "Going to massage Adam's knee."

  Mr. Preston looked at Adam sympathetically. "Great game tonight. You be careful with that knee of yours. I want NBA season tickets."

  Adam smiled. "Yes, sir. You'll get the VIP treatment."

  Mr. Preston smiled in return. "All right, boys. Be quiet. And don't stay up too late."

  Closing the bedroom door, Conner said, "You know the drill. On the floor."

  Yawning, Adam stretched out on the floor and bunched his shorts up to his crotch. "Maybe I should have taken some aspirin."

  "I'll get some ibuprofen when I get the lotion."

  Alone, Adam surveyed the room he'd been in hundreds of times. In the Preston home, he always felt comfortable and welcomed and safe. The Preston family had always treated him like an honorary son. And he regarded Conner as the person he was closest to in the whole world. He couldn't imagine a future without Conner by his side.