I wondered, too, if Grandma was right about Roland being jealous. He definitely looked irritated when he talked about Emily. If he’d been in love with her and had to watch her flirt with Sam all the time, well, I guess that would be pretty annoying.
Yawning, I opened a chat window and checked for Trish and Mark—both gray, both off-line. Which made sense, seeing as it was, like, six in the morning there. A wave of homesickness hit, and I had the sudden urge to call one of them, or Grandma, or . . .
One of my contacts abruptly flipped from gray to green, and my heart leaped. Then I saw the name.
MonicaMills [Mom]
I froze, my hand on the mouse. And sure enough, after a few seconds:
Kat? Are you there?
A lump rose in my throat. Numbly, I clicked the chat window closed and logged out. Then I shoved my unfinished math worksheet in Mi Jin’s folder and went to go get some lunch.
CHAPTER SEVEN
IF LOOKS COULD KILL
MonicaMills [Mom]
This contact has been blocked. To unblock, go to your privacy settings.
My after-lunch nap turned out to be a total bust. I lay on my bed staring at the ugly hotel curtains for almost forty-five minutes before giving up and heading to the waterfront to join the crew.
After stopping to buy a soda, I peered up and down the boardwalk until I spotted them huddled together. A cool breeze ruffled my hair as I walked, and I shivered—I still hadn’t gotten used to my short cut. The back of my neck felt weirdly exposed.
Still, the crisp air woke me up from my post-almost-nap trance. And I wasn’t the only one out enjoying the perfect fall weather. I squinted down at the crew, wondering if the crowds of families and couples strolling along the boardwalk were making it difficult to get the shots they needed.
Ring, ring! Glancing over my shoulder, I jumped out of the way just as a cyclist went zipping past. When I turned back around, I slammed into someone and dropped my soda bottle.
“Oh, great.” Kneeling down, the dark-haired woman scooped her binoculars and camera up and away from a trickle of soda. I winced, picking up the bottle.
“Sorry, I didn’t . . .” Pausing, I tried frantically to remember how to say sorry in Dutch. Then I realized she’d spoken English. It was hard to tell thanks to her oversize sunglasses, but I was pretty sure she was looking at me like I’d just kicked a kitten.
“Just look where you’re going, kid,” she snapped in a high, nasal voice, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She was young, and her face was really angular—she looked almost gaunt.
“Sorry,” I said again, not bothering to hide my irritation as she made a show of inspecting her camera. “Is it broken?”
Rather than answering, she just turned and headed in the opposite direction, muttering under her breath. Rolling my eyes, I tossed my empty soda bottle in the trash and headed toward the crew.
I couldn’t help picturing the Elapse E-250 still stuffed in my suitcase. With so many interesting sights around—the boats, the vendors, little kids playing jump rope—the urge to take photographs was strong. Unfortunately, that urge always came with my mom’s voice giving instructions.
Look, that girl over there near the railing; such a textured background with the boats behind her . . . The light is dim this time of day, so use a slower shutter speed . . .
Keeping my eyes firmly fixed on the crew, I walked fast and avoided looking for any more frame-worthy moments. Dad and Lidia were side by side going over Dad’s notes, while Jess adjusted the large video camera on her shoulder. Sam was watching a group of teenagers take photos near the water. Roland simply looked bored. I noticed Oscar hovering around Mi Jin and stifled a groan—I’d been hoping he stayed back at the hotel.
“Almost ready, guys,” Jess said. “Mi Jin, Jack’s going to need the windscreen.”
“Got it!” Mi Jin rummaged through the massive camera bag hanging off her shoulder. A second later, she let out a bloodcurdling scream and flung something long and wriggly straight at me.
I jumped back as a snake went sailing past my head. It hit the boardwalk with a smack and . . . laid there. I took a hesitant step forward, then nudged it with my toe.
“Fake,” I said, giving Oscar a pointed look. “Totally fake.”
“Oscar, come on,” Lidia groaned, but the others started laughing. No one laughed harder than Mi Jin, though. Which was kind of disappointing. It would’ve been fun to watch her chew him out.
But she seemed to find the whole thing hilarious. “Nice one,” she told Oscar, still snickering as she handed Dad a cover for his mic. “That’s two to one, then?”
“Yours didn’t count,” Oscar said with a grin. “I’m not afraid of spiders.”
“You jumped a little.” Mi Jin zipped the camera bag closed. “But yeah, your reaction was nowhere near as epic as mine.”
“You scared off some of this crowd.” Roland sounded mildly appreciative as he glanced around the boardwalk. “That was a pretty legit scream.”
Mi Jin beamed. “Horror movie–worthy, right?”
“I’ll say.”
I smiled at Dad and he winked. Grandma would love Mi Jin.
“All right, we need to get this wrapped up in the next hour,” Jess announced, shifting under the weight of the camera. “Jack, we’ll shoot the first thirty seconds in place, then get the three of you walking toward the theater. Let’s get a couple of takes of the intro first, all right?”
Dad nodded, handing Lidia his notes. “Sounds good.”
I took several steps back as everyone else got into their places, and something squished under my foot. Stooping down, I picked up the rubber snake just as Oscar reached my side.
“Not afraid of snakes either, huh?” he asked.
“Not fake ones.”
“Real ones, though?”
“Not really,” I said, watching as Dad launched into a description of life in Rotterdam in the eighteen hundreds. “Trish has a pet snake. His name’s Fang, but he’s harmless.” I glanced at Oscar. “I mean, if you’d hidden a live cobra in there or something, I might have screamed.”
To my surprise, he cracked a smile. “Might have?”
I shrugged. “Yeah. And I might have jumped over that railing and swum to England.”
Oscar actually laughed a little. Before either of us could say anything else, Jess let out a frustrated cry.
“Cut. Sorry, Jack . . . what is wrong with this thing?”
Mi Jin joined Jess and Lidia in inspecting the camera. “What is this? An error code?” Jess asked Mi Jin, who frowned.
“I’ve never seen that come up before . . .” After a second, Mi Jin whirled around to face Oscar, her eyes wide. “Is this another prank? Did you do this?” she asked. Confusion flickered across Oscar’s face.
“Do what?”
Jess was shaking her head. “No way, he couldn’t have.”
She turned slightly so we could see the viewfinder. The screen was black, but a row of letters scrolled rapidly at the bottom.
XXXXXXXXXXXXX . . . XXXXXXXXXXXXX . . . XXXXXXXXXXXXX . . .
Dad frowned, leaning closer. “Maybe try turning it off?”
Jess obliged, pressing the button. But the scrolling continued.
“Thirteen Xs,” Mi Jin said excitedly. “Ah, what am I doing—we need to get a picture of this! Anyone have a camera? Wait, there’s a handheld in here somewhere . . .”
My fingers twitched at my side as Mi Jin dug the small camera out of her bag, my thoughts once again drifting to the Elapse. I watched Mi Jin begin filming the scrolling letters on the viewfinder. Sam drifted over to stand next to Jess.
“Thirteen Xs,” he mused. “A message from the beyond.”
Roland looked highly amused. “Must be.”
“Wait . . . I feel something.” Sam’s expression was so intense
I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. “There is a presence with us.”
Mi Jin stepped back, grinning, as Roland joined Sam in the shot. “Is it Red Leer?” he asked Sam in a low, serious voice. “Tell him we’re not scheduled to be drugged and kidnapped until tomorrow night.”
Oscar and I started to snicker as Sam squinted and looked around like he was trying to locate a ghost pirate standing among the rest of us. His gaze rested on me, and my laughter faded. “I’m not sure it’s Red Leer,” he mused, apparently oblivious to Roland’s sarcasm. “I’m not sensing a lot of anger.”
“Ah. Should I antagonize him, then?” Roland cleared his throat loudly, but Jess cut him off.
“Look, it’s stopped.” She turned slightly so we could see the viewfinder, which was back to normal. Jess swung around, aiming the camera at Dad. “Ready to give the intro another shot?”
Dad gave her the thumbs-up. Sam glanced at me again before turning away, and I felt slightly unsettled.
As they started filming, Mi Jin hung back and zipped the camera up in her bag. She glanced over at Oscar and me. “How’d you do it, though, seriously?” she asked in a low, eager voice.
Oscar’s brow furrowed. “Do what?”
“Thirteen Xs!” Mi Jin said. “You did it, right? Like what you did to Lidia’s EMF meter yesterday? But how—”
“What did you do to her EMF?” I interrupted, picturing the gadget Lidia had pulled out of her purse yesterday when she was searching for granola bars.
Oscar shrugged. “Messed with the calibration a little so that it went nuts when we first got to the theater.”
“But how’d you get those Xs on the camera?” Mi Jin pressed, and Oscar grinned.
“It’s a secret.”
Mi Jin laughed. “Well, good one,” she said with a wink, then hurried back over to the others.
I stared at Oscar. If he knew enough about electronics to sabotage Lidia’s EMF, maybe he really had somehow gotten that message to print out. “Did you type up that thing about the medium?” I blurted out.
Oscar blinked. “The what?”
“The message,” I said impatiently. “The one that printed out yesterday when you were hiding in the projection room with that stupid mask. Keep her away from the medium. You did it, right?”
“Hang on there, crazy,” Oscar retorted. “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”
I scowled. “So you messed with Lidia’s EMF and Jess’s camera, but not with the laptop up in the projection room?”
He opened his mouth but hesitated, glancing back at the camera. I crossed my arms impatiently. He really didn’t seem to know anything about the medium message. And I was positive he looked confused when Mi Jin first suggested he’d tampered with the camera. Maybe he really had nothing to do with either. Maybe they were both just glitches.
Or maybe Oscar was an amazingly good liar.
Oscar was still staring at the camera. Jess handed it over to Mi Jin, then joined Lidia and the others to go over the next take. Mi Jin turned away from them, studying the viewfinder closely. Then she glanced over at Oscar and me.
“Just tell me how you did it!” she called. “Please?”
Oscar looked pleased. “Didn’t you say you majored in electrical engineering? You figure it out!”
Laughing, Mi Jin turned her attention back to the viewfinder. “Touché.”
I stared at Oscar for a second, then grinned. “Oh. I get it.”
“Get what?”
“Why you lied about the camera,” I said lightly. “You didn’t do it, but you want Mi Jin to think you did. I know she’s impressed and all, but she’s a little old for you, don’t you think?”
I waited for a defensive comeback, a blush, anything. For a few seconds, Oscar just gazed at me. Then he started cracking up.
“You’re right,” he said. “You’re totally right. I don’t have a chance.” He let out an exaggerated sigh. “Thank you for helping me see the light.”
His sarcasm was infuriating. Not to mention his complete lack of shame. “Seriously, she’s like . . . twenty-two.”
Oscar nodded solemnly. “Yeah. You’re right. I’m completely delusional.”
“Apparently.” I turned away, watching as Dad, Roland, and Sam began strolling down the boardwalk toward the theater. Jess kept pace at their side, camera steady on her shoulder. Mi Jin and Lidia trailed not far behind her. I set off after them without another word to Oscar.
His stupid crush on Mi Jin aside, it was pretty strange that both the crew’s camera and laptop had briefly malfunctioned. The laptop glitch came with a message. Mi Jin had said the camera glitch wasn’t an error code—maybe it was a message, too. Sam said he sensed a presence, but not Red Leer . . . was it the show’s ghost? The one so many fans seemed to think was behind the host curse and all the equipment glitches? I remembered the way Sam had stared at me a few minutes ago when the camera freaked out, and had a mental image of a ghost floating at my side.
Suddenly, I felt ridiculous. One day with a bunch of ghost hunters and I was already buying into the whole paranormal activity thing. Still . . .
When Jess called “Cut!” and started talking to Dad and the other guys, I hurried over to Mi Jin.
“Do you have a pen or anything?”
“Sure!” She dug a pencil out of the camera bag and handed it to me.
“Thanks.” I turned away, quickly jotting down the second message under the first.
KEEP HER AWAY FROM THE MEDIUM
13 Xs
“What’s that?” Mi Jin asked curiously, and I folded the paper and shoved it back into my pocket.
“Nothing important.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
TEA PARTY OF THE DAMNED
P2P WIKI
Entry: “Dead Air”
[Last edited by Maytrix]
“Dead air” refers to the approximately ninety seconds of dead air during the pilot episode of Passport to Paranormal, which took place at the Limerick Bed & Breakfast on the northern coast of Oregon. The disturbance occurred during the last ten minutes of airtime. Viewers suddenly lost audio and video during a scene showing the crew walking from the B&B to the nearby lighthouse. No one, including Fright TV, could explain the dead air. The episode resumed to show the crew back at the B&B, leading many fans to believe the missing footage took place in the lighthouse.
To date, the crew refuses to discuss what happened in the lighthouse, nor will they share the footage. When asked for a possible explanation of the dead air, P2P creator and producer Lidia Bettencourt commented: “I guess it’s just part of being the most haunted show on television.” The phrase immediately became the show’s unofficial slogan, an idea supported by the crew’s frequent tech glitches and apparent inability to keep a host (for more, see: The Host Curse).
My post-dinner nap attempt was a success—a solid hour of blissful unconsciousness. I rolled over and stared at the clock: 8:31 p.m. Yeah, there was no way I was going to sleep normally tonight.
Both Dad and his laptop were gone, but he’d left one of his key cards behind. I vaguely remembered Jess saying something at dinner about a meeting that night in the hotel’s conference room. Slipping on a pair of shoes, I grabbed Dad’s key to the room the crew was using to store equipment. Maybe there was an extra laptop in there I could use.
A minute later, I swiped the key to room 301, then pushed the door open a crack. “Hello?” I stuck my head inside. The room was deserted.
Both beds and the floor were covered in camera bags and cables, mics and tripods, thermal scanners and EMF detectors. Propping the door open behind me, I scanned the room quickly and spotted a closed laptop next to the TV. “Hallelujah,” I whispered, hurrying over and pulling up a chair. I opened the laptop, powered it on, and waited impatiently for it to load.
And waited. And wait
ed.
I frowned, tapping my fingers on the table. This show seriously needed some better equipment. Finally, the desktop appeared. But before I could click on anything, a video popped up and began to play.
“Are you ready?”
I recognized Sam’s voice immediately. The camera sat perfectly still at eye level—on a tripod, I figured—in front of a tiny table in a cramped, circular room. Sam sat between Lidia and a blond, round-faced woman wearing a ton of makeup—Emily Rosinski, the first host. All three were holding hands. The only light came from a single, dim bulb over their heads.
Lidia nodded. “Yes,” she whispered.
I tapped the escape key several times, then held down the power button. Nothing. The video just kept playing.
Sam tilted his head back, his expression serene. “Close your eyes,” he instructed. Lidia obeyed immediately, but Emily continued to stare at him, her expression rapt. Sam started to speak so softly, I couldn’t catch all the words.
“We invite you to join . . . present, let us know you’re . . . our energies, if you wish . . .”
Lidia drew a slow, steady breath, her hands visibly trembling. Emily leaned closer to Sam. “Are you sensing a presence?” she said in a loud, exaggerated whisper.
Sam didn’t respond. “If you’re willing . . . communicate, we ask that you . . . let Lidia know you’re present . . .”
I’d seen every episode of Passport to Paranormal, but this scene didn’t look familiar. The bulb hanging overhead flickered once, very briefly. Emily gasped.
“Did you see that, Sam?” she cried shrilly. “I think you’ve made contact!”
I snorted. No wonder they’d never used this footage. Uber-cheesy.
Sam didn’t even open his eyes. “Focus, Emily,” he said dreamily.
He continued murmuring, his voice barely audible. Lidia’s breathing grew heavier and heavier, while Emily just gazed adoringly at Sam. The lightbulb flickered again, and she squirmed in her chair.
Dead Air Page 5