After a second, I rolled my eyes. It hadn’t even been a day and I was already getting creeped out over nothing.
Shoving the paper in my pocket, I headed back into the theater.
CHAPTER FIVE
INVASION OF THE NUTJOBS FROM PLANET FANDOM
Post: The Pirate Ghost of Crimptown
I don’t believe in ghosts. (Sorry, Grandma.)
I just figured that since this is my first real, not-jet-lagged blog post, I should make that clear before I say anything else about P2P. I don’t believe in ghosts—but I do love scary stories.
For the first episode, we’re spending the night in Crimptown, which is this supposedly haunted system of tunnels under Rotterdam. This morning, I watched Dad interview a guy who owns a restaurant on the waterfront that’s been around since the 1800s. He told Dad all about the legend of Crimptown and why people think it’s haunted.
A bunch of the bars and hotels and restaurants in downtown Rotterdam have cellars connected by the tunnels. The tunnels all lead to the waterfront, because the point was to easily get food and supplies from the boats to the businesses. There were pulley systems to get the supplies up to street level, and chutes to drop stuff down into the cellars for storage.
Sometime in the mid-1800s, a bunch of men in Rotterdam started going missing. And they were always last seen at a bar. After a while, people noticed another connection—all the bars they disappeared from were connected to the Crimptown tunnel system.
It turned out a pirate named Falk Von Leer had this horrible scheme going on. He’d get someone at the bar to drug the guy’s drink. After the guy passed out, they’d throw him down one of the chutes into the cellar. From there, Red Leer would have his crew members drag the guy through the tunnels to the waterfront, and then he would sell his prisioner into slavery on cargo ships. (His nickname in Dutch is Rood Leer—rood means red in English. The restaurant owner said they called him that because of all the blood he spilled.)
Everyone knew what Red Leer was doing, but they were all too afraid to do something about it. But when a teenage boy named Bastian Hillebrandt went missing, his older sister Sonja decided to organize a rescue. She gathered a group of women whose husbands or sons or brothers had all been kidnapped by Red Leer. One night, the women disguised themselves as men, secretly armed themselves with all kinds of weapons, and visited all the bars connected to the tunnels. They ordered drinks but didn’t actually drink them, and pretended to pass out like they’d been drugged. Once they got thrown down the trapdoors into the cellars, they attacked Red Leer’s men and freed all the prisoners who hadn’t been sold to ships yet. Sonja came face-to-face with Red Leer and demanded he return her brother. Red Leer refused and then he killed her. But the freed prisoners and all the women who had joined Sonja attacked and killed Red Leer. Eventually, all the men Red Leer had kidnapped and sold were found and set free.
But both Red Leer’s and Sonja’s ghosts are said to haunt Crimptown, forever at war with each other.
The guy Dad interviewed said people who tour Crimptown report all sorts of strange stuff, like flickering lights or chilly breezes. Sam says he can “feel the tension between Sonja and Red Leer in my gut.” Roland says Sam just ate some bad oysters. (Honestly, I can’t even tell if Roland believes in any of this stuff. He’s weird like that.)
As for me, I’m still feeling pretty skeptical. Wouldn’t ALL old tunnel systems have bad lighting and chilly breezes? I mean, it would take a lot more than that for me to consider a place haunted. But I guess I’ll find out tonight, since we’ll be camping out down there. Either way, it’s a really cool story. And I found these portraits of Sonja and Red Leer online. Isn’t Red Leer creepy-looking?
When Grandma had first suggested the blog, I’d thought it sounded like too much work. But it turns out when you don’t have to worry about outlines and a thesis statement and grades and all that stuff, writing is pretty fun. After watching Dad’s interview, I’d wandered along the waterfront until I found an Internet café where I could write up Sonja and Red Leer’s story and add their portraits. Red Leer had a thick, curled mustache and a ghoulish grin. Sonja looked so . . . innocent. And normal. Just a kind-faced woman with dark hair wearing a simple dress and a delicate smile. It was hard to imagine her leading an attack on a band of pirates.
Once I published my post, I found the Passport to Paranormal forums. I couldn’t help it—I had to see what people were saying about my dad. The top thread had his name in the title. I scanned the first page quickly.
P2P FAN FORUMS
Meet Jack Sinclair, Victim #4
Maytrix [admin]
Okay, guys, we’ve got ourselves another host! But for how long? *evil laugh*
So, Jack Sinclair hosted a morning show in Chelsea, Ohio, for several years. You can watch clips of him here . . . seems like a fun guy. Let’s recap our former P2P hosts:
Victim #1: Emily Rosinski, sixteen episodes
Victim #2: Carlos Ortiz, eight episodes
Victim #3: Bernice Boyd, four episodes
On to Victim #4! Thoughts?
spicychai [member]
two episodes. do the math.
YourCohortInCrime [member]
IDK, this “host curse” thing they’re doing can’t really last, right? It’s obviously just for publicity—the ratings shoot up for a few episodes every time. Remember when Carlos published that exposé? He said they fake all kinds of stuff on the show. That’s why he got fired. And the first episode with Bernice as host after Carlos left had the highest ratings they’d ever seen.
beautifulgollum [moderator]
Firing hosts isn’t good publicity, YCIC. And Carlos denied writing that exposé—he said he was set up. The curse is because the show is haunted—some restless spirit has been with them since the first episode in the lighthouse. I think that spirit is responsible for getting rid of the other hosts. Hopefully it will approve of Jack.
AntiSimon [member]
I miss Bernice. (Anyone’s better than Emily, though.) Anyway, I think spicychai’s right—the length of time is cut in half from one host to the next, so Jack’s got two episodes. My prediction: Jack does a couple of episodes and then they go hostless. Let Samland take over the whole thing. (Or the show gets canceled . . . and let’s face it, that’s a pretty big possibility.)
BTW, the fact that the timing works like that PROVES the curse is real. It can’t be a coincidence.
YourCohortInCrime [member]
Uh, wrong. It proves the producer firing the hosts for publicity can do basic math like the rest of us.
beautifulgollum [moderator]
Come on, YCIC—the point of the show is to find ghosts. They don’t WANT to lose hosts.
YourCohortInCrime [member]
Funny, I could’ve sworn the point of the show was ratings. Thomas Cooper’s gonna can it if it doesn’t do better this season.
skEllen [member]
#TEAMSAMLAND
I got to the bottom of the page and clicked over to the next . . . and then the next. It was kind of unnerving, watching all these fans make bets on my dad and bicker about whether his job was cursed.
Did they really believe a ghost was getting rid of the hosts? I mean, weren’t these people supposed to be adults? Even more interesting was that some of them seemed to think Lidia was actually firing hosts just to make viewers think there was a curse, like a publicity stunt.
The weirdest thing was that no one knew where the old hosts all went. Not like any of them were all that famous, but Emily Rosinski and Carlos Ortiz were reporters before joining the show, and Bernice Boyd had worked for the History channel. And apparently they were all way low-profile now, refusing to give interviews or talk to anyone about why they left. That was a big part of why the ratings always went up—all the mystery and drama surrounding their sudden departures.
Fans love
d gossiping about Emily, in particular—and they didn’t say very nice things. I remembered the face Roland made when he called her a “Sumner Stalker.” A lot of fans thought she’d quit because Sam didn’t return her feelings, but some speculated they secretly dated and had a huge breakup. Personally, I couldn’t imagine Sam dating anyone. (Well, anyone living. He’d probably date a ghost if he could.)
There were tons of other interesting threads, too. The forums were organized by season and episode, but also by topic. The most popular thread was about Sam and Roland—or “Samland,” which made me snort my soda. I wondered if Roland knew about that particular nickname.
As much as I wanted to just sit in that cushy chair and bask in an Internet glow all day, I didn’t think Dad would appreciate me blowing twenty euros here when he had a laptop (no matter how clunky and slow it was). So when my hour was up, I logged off and headed back to the hotel. I found Dad in our room, studying his laptop screen.
“Hi, Dad.”
“Hey, sweetie,” he said distractedly.
I flopped back on my bed. “What’s that?”
“Just reading up on the local history.” He smiled, eyes still on the screen. “Crimptown is fascinating, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” I yawned widely. “Hey, Dad?”
“Mmhmm?”
I paused, trying to think of how to ask the question. Why’d you choose this job? But that would only lead to more questions I wasn’t sure I wanted answered. Why do you want to chase ghosts? What if Mom decides to come back?
Did she leave because of the Thing?
“Kat?”
I glanced over to find him staring at me in concern.
“Um . . . can I use the laptop when you’re done?”
“Of course.”
He turned back to the screen and started pecking away at the keyboard. Within a minute, I was sound asleep.
CHAPTER SIX
WHAT LURKS IN THE CYBERSHADOWS
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: This whole curse thing
Hi, Grandma,
I found the P2P forums (those people are kind of insane btw). What did you think of the other hosts? Roland said Emily Rosinski was a nutjob because she had a huge crush on Sam. Do you think maybe they’ve been firing the hosts just so fans will think the show is cursed? I don’t want that to happen to Dad. Pretty sure he’s not ready to go home yet.
Love, Kat
“You know what?”
Mi Jin and I both glanced up. Oscar was sprawled out on an old sofa, lazily kicking the door to the theater’s projection room in a steady rhythm. Thud. Thud. Thud.
“What?” Mi Jin swiveled away from the laptop, one hand still on the keyboard.
Oscar tapped his math sheet with his pencil. “There are fifty-three questions on this.”
“And?”
“And I think that’s irrational.”
Mi Jin laughed. I rolled my eyes, focusing on my own sheet. I’d slept a record-setting eleven hours straight last night, but it still didn’t feel like enough. When I’d woken up at seven this morning—with no alarm, which was pretty freaky—I felt great. But the closer we got to lunchtime, the more I wanted to crawl back into bed.
A few minutes passed, during which I tried to ignore the fact that my eyelids were beginning to droop. Suddenly, Oscar dropped his pencil on the floor next to me.
“Done.” He leaned over, and I shifted in my spot so he couldn’t see my work and stared resolutely at the page.
1.92 − 5.6
A) integer
B) rational
C) irrational
“You’re not done yet?”
I pressed my lips together. “No.”
Oscar sighed wearily. “Are you at least close?”
I ignored him, and after a few seconds, he leaned back on the sofa.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
“Could you maybe quit that?” I asked through gritted teeth.
“Quit what?”
Thud. Thud. Thud.
“That,” I said sharply, flipping my page over. “And by the way, fifty-three is a rational number.”
Oscar groaned. “I know. It was a joke. Man, you have no sense of humor.”
“I do, actually.” I punched a few keys on my calculator. “I laugh when something’s funny.”
Thud. Thud. Thud.
“Oscar, I swear to—”
“Okay,” Mi Jin cut in loudly. “It’s almost time for lunch—Oscar, will you go see if Lidia’s ordered anything yet?”
“Sure.” Swinging his legs off the sofa, Oscar stood and stretched. “Let me know if you need help with that,” he said, then sauntered out of the room before I could think of a response.
I stared after him in disbelief, then realized Mi Jin was giggling. “Sorry,” she said quickly. “You two really push each other’s buttons, huh?”
“He’s just. So. Obnoxious.” I set my pencil on the floor next to me and rubbed my eyes. “I mean, seriously. I’ve never met anyone so annoying, it’s like he—”
“Kat,” Mi Jin interrupted. I lowered my hands to find Lidia in the doorway, and my face went hot.
“Oh . . . hi.”
Smiling, Lidia walked over to the desk and started rifling through a folder. “Talking about my nephew?”
“Well . . .” I hesitated. “Yeah. Sorry.”
She laughed. “It’s okay. Although I promise he’s usually a nice kid. He’s just had a rough time this year.”
“He said he got expelled for fighting?” Mi Jin asked, and I glanced up.
Lidia nodded. “Yeah. Poor thing . . . lots of bullying at his school.”
I snorted quietly, hiding my face behind my worksheet. It was pretty much impossible to imagine someone as arrogant as Oscar getting bullied. He seemed more likely to be a bully himself.
“Kat, do you need any help with that?” Mi Jin asked, pulling her hair back into a ponytail and pointing at my worksheet with her boot.
“Nah, thanks. I’ve only got four problems left.”
“Just leave it in the folder when you’re done, okay?”
“Okay.”
I stared at the same problem, the numbers swimming in front of my eyes. I was so taking a nap after lunch. My head felt like it was stuffed with tissue, and a muffled beeping sound filled my ears. It was a few seconds before I realized it was coming from Lidia.
“Sorry,” she said, pulling her phone out of her pocket and silencing the alarm. “Just a reminder to take my pills.” Setting the folder down, she unzipped a small purple bag next to the laptop and took out a bottle.
“Are you sick?” I asked, watching as she shook a few pills into her hand.
Taking a swig of water, Lidia popped the pills and swallowed. “A minor heart problem. Nothing serious.”
My eyes widened in surprise. “Heart problems? Aren’t you a little young for that?” I winced as soon as the words were out of my mouth, but Lidia just smiled.
“It’s a condition I was born with,” she explained, setting her water bottle down. “Seizures, fainting, the works. I had a pacemaker put in when I was eight.”
“Oh.” I watched Lidia toy with the locket on her necklace. “I’m sorry.”
“Oh, it’s fine,” Lidia said. “Kind of a bummer when I was younger, though. Strobe lights can trigger my seizures, so that meant no concerts or haunted houses. Not that that stopped me,” she added with a wink. I grinned as she tucked the pill bottle back inside the purple bag. “Are you coming down for lunch?”
“Um . . .” My eyes strayed to the laptop, where the Internet beckoned. Lidia laughed, heading to the door.
“I’ll make sure to save you some food. Take your time.”
“Thanks.”
Flopping down ont
o the desk chair, I logged into my e-mail account. As much as I was trying not to let it bother me, I couldn’t help thinking about the host curse. To my relief, Grandma had already responded to the e-mail I’d sent her before breakfast.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Re: This whole curse thing
Hi, KitKat,
So now you’re lurking in the P2P forums, hmm? I suppose I’ll have to watch what I say in there from now on.
I groaned. So Grandma was one of the fans in the forum. What a surprise. I wondered what her screen name was, then immediately decided I didn’t want to know. Ever. Ever.
I agree, it’s pretty weird to watch them all argue about my son-in-law. Try not to take what you read on the boards too seriously. Lidia isn’t just firing hosts for publicity. This is a show that struggles with low ratings—people are going to come and go, that’s just how it is. And it’s true that ratings go up when a host leaves, but that lasts only an episode or two. Not exactly a smart long-term publicity plan, right?
The other hosts . . . Bernice was really knowledgeable about the local history and folklore, but she was skittish—afraid of her own shadow. Why she ever took the job is beyond me. Carlos did indeed publish a piece accusing the crew of faking things, and he was promptly canned—although he always said he didn’t actually write it. And Emily couldn’t have cared less about ghosts. She spent every episode doing nothing but fawning all over Sam. I guess after a while he must have rejected her, and she flounced. (And good riddance! She was a poor representative of us Sumner Stalkers.) Funny that you talked to Roland about that. It was always obvious that the way Emily acted around Sam bothered him. Between you and me, I think he was a bit jealous.
I smiled, but something nagged at me. Sumner Stalkers. I knew Grandma probably thought that name was funny, but I couldn’t help remembering what Roland had said. Our first host was a Sumner Stalker. Total nutjob.
Would he consider Grandma a nutjob, too? She really wasn’t. No one knew the difference between a fan and a real stalker better than Grandma. She got threatening letters for almost two years after Mutant Cheerleaders Attack came out, before the police finally caught the guy. That was way before I was born, but she’d told me all about it. It sounded really scary.
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