Dead Air

by Michelle Schusterman

  “Sam, I think—”

  Suddenly, Lidia’s eyes flew open. She sucked in a sharp breath just as the lightbulb exploded. Emily’s shriek cut off abruptly.

  I blinked in the sudden darkness, goose bumps breaking out all over my arms. The laptop had powered off, and the hotel room was pitch-black.

  Heart thudding in my ears, I got to my feet. I hadn’t turned on the lights when I came in, but I’d definitely left the door wide open.

  Now it was closed.

  “Hello?” I whispered. Feeling for the desk lamp, I flipped the switch. Nothing.

  I felt a flicker of fear, quickly replaced by irritation. “Oscar,” I said firmly, turning in a full circle. “Knock it off, this isn’t funny.”

  No response.

  I made my way slowly across the room, carefully navigating around the bags and coils of cables on the floor. Twice I paused and listened, but the room remained silent. When I reached the door, I yanked it open. Light from the hallway flooded the room. I spotted a light switch next to the bathroom door and flipped it on.

  “Where are you hiding?” I muttered, poking my head inside the bathroom before checking the closet. “Oscar, come on . . .”

  But he wasn’t there. Hands on my hips, I stared at the laptop. Oscar must have been walking down the hall, seen me using the laptop, and shut the door. And the lamp . . .

  Crossing the room, I flipped the lamp switch a few times. Then I saw the cord lying across the table. Someone’s phone charger was plugged into the socket instead. Well, that explained that.

  I shook my head, my relief mixed with annoyance. Apparently Oscar was determined to scare me. He could have set it up so that the video automatically started playing when someone turned the laptop on. Although . . .

  How could he have fixed it so that the laptop turned off right when the bulb exploded in the video?

  I shivered, remembering the creepy way Lidia’s eyes had flown open. Before I could talk myself out of it, I powered the laptop back on and held my breath. The desktop looked normal—no videos, nothing unusual. I waited a few seconds, but nothing happened.

  So that made three weird glitches: the printer, the camera, and the laptop. I sat down and opened the web browser. I wasn’t ready to believe the glitches were all thanks to a restless spirit haunting the show, but at least now I had something to write about for my second blog post.

  At a quarter to ten the next morning, I stumbled off the elevator and into the lobby. Mi Jin waved at me from where she sat curled up in an armchair with her laptop. “Morning!”

  “Mmmph,” I mumbled, eyeing the bagel in her hand. “Where’d you get that?”

  She pointed to a door by the front desk. “Breakfast room.” “Thanks.”

  A few minutes later, I returned carrying a bagel smeared with grape jelly and a paper cup filled with chocolate milk. I started to take a sip as I sat in the chair next to Mi Jin, then yawned widely.

  “You look dead,” Mi Jin observed. “Bad night’s sleep?”

  “I don’t think it qualified as sleep.” I balanced my cup on the armrest and took a bite of bagel. “Where’s everyone else?”

  “Your dad and Jess went to check out Crimptown for tonight,” she replied. “Roland might’ve gone with them, I’m not sure. Lidia’s on the phone setting up stuff for Brussels next week. And Sam’s having a tea party with Sonja Hillebrandt and the pirate who killed her.”

  I choked on my bagel, giggling. “He’s what?”

  Mi Jin grinned. “Sorry, that was mean. He’s . . . you know, doing his medium thing. Trying to contact Sonja and Red Leer by sitting at a table in a dark room.” She shrugged. “Whenever I watch someone conduct a séance, it reminds me of when I was little and I’d host tea parties for my imaginary friends.”

  I took another sip of chocolate milk. “So you don’t believe in ghosts?”

  Her eyes widened. “Oh, I totally believe. I just take a more technical approach than Sam.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Mi Jin sat up a little straighter. “It takes a really high amount of energy for a ghost to do something big, like move a solid object or possess a person,” she said seriously. “But they can affect electrical currents pretty easily. Like with white noise. If a ghost is speaking, your ears won’t pick it up. But if you get an audio recording, you can isolate the voice in the white noise. It’s called EVP—electronic voice phenomena. Same thing with photos—even if we can’t see a ghost, a camera can capture its image because it detects a broader spectrum of energy than the human eye.”

  She paused, popping the last bite of bagel into her mouth. “So I try to use technology to communicate. It’s not that I think Sam’s way doesn’t work, I just think my way has a higher possibility of success. You should see my electronic Ouija board.”

  “Seriously? Where’d you get that?”

  “I made it,” Mi Jin said proudly. “It’s a regular Ouija board with some modifications.”

  I took a sip of chocolate milk. “So the camera yesterday . . . You’re saying that could’ve been a ghost? Not that I think it was,” I added hastily. “But I know a lot of fans think the show’s haunted.”

  Mi Jin nodded. “Yeah, totally. That’s why I recorded it happening.”

  “So you don’t really think Oscar did it?”

  “Nah. He’s good with electronics, but I don’t think he could’ve managed that.”

  “Me either.” Propping my feet up on the coffee table, I tried to sound nonchalant. “Speaking of haunted equipment, I tried to use that laptop in room 301 last night, and it kind of freaked out.”

  Mi Jin tilted her head. “How so?”

  “Started playing old footage of the show,” I said. “And then it just weirdly shut off.”

  “Huh. What was the footage?”

  I smiled. “A tea party. Just Sam, Lidia, and Emily.”

  “Which episode?”

  “Dunno,” I said with a shrug. “I’ve seen every episode, but I didn’t recognize it. I figured it was footage they never used.”

  Mi Jin paused, lips pressed together like she was weighing her words. “Could you tell where they were?” she asked at last.

  “Um . . . a really small room.” I squinted, picturing the scene. “There were windows, but it was dark outside. They were sitting at a little table. It looked like the room was filled with junk, like maybe an attic. But the light was too dim to make anything out.”

  Actually, the image would have made a beautifully creepy photo, I thought. The bulb casting a yellowish light on three people huddled around a table holding hands, surrounded by shadowed boxes and objects, the night sky visible through the windows behind them . . . Never use flash in low-light shots, Kat; you’ll flatten the background . . . Use a higher ISO—it’ll give you more contrast and depth . . .

  It was a few seconds before I realized Mi Jin was talking. “What?”

  “Do you think maybe it was the missing lighthouse footage?” Mi Jin said, studying me over her coffee cup. “You know, the dead air from the first episode?”

  I blinked. “Actually . . . maybe, yeah. It could’ve been a lighthouse. Have you ever seen that footage?”

  “Nope,” Mi Jin replied. “But I do know that Sam had a tea party in the lighthouse. Originally, he was going to do one for every episode, but Jess made him stop after that one.” She glanced around, lowering her voice. “I overheard Jess and Lidia arguing about it once. Lidia’s way into tea parties. You know, because of her brother.”

  I frowned. “You mean Oscar’s dad?”

  “No, Lidia’s twin,” Mi Jin replied. “He died when they were teenagers.”

  My eyes widened. “How?”

  “Heart condition,” she said simply. “They were both born with it, but his was much worse than hers, apparently.”

  I remembered Lidia taking her pi
lls yesterday and explaining about her pacemaker. “Oh.”

  “They grew up in Oregon,” Mi Jin went on. “On the coast, really close to that lighthouse—that’s why Lidia chose it for the first episode of P2P. She and her brother were totally obsessed with it when they were little, because it was abandoned, but sometimes the light would just start flashing, like it was trying to signal a ship. They were convinced it was haunted.” Mi Jin shrugged. “Apparently Lidia got pretty worked up during the séance. It’s not good for her health. So Jess convinced her to stop doing them on the show.”

  We sat in silence for a minute. I pictured Lidia seated at the table, so intent, so focused . . . the way her eyes had flown open just as the bulb exploded . . .

  “Morning!” Mi Jin called. I glanced over as Oscar stepped off the elevator, eyes bloodshot, black hair sticking up in all directions. Mi Jin snickered. “Wow. Kat, looks like you’re runner-up in the most beautiful zombie competition.”

  Oscar shuffled across the lobby to the breakfast room without a word. I shook my head. “Cheerful, isn’t he?”

  She smiled. “You two just got off on the wrong foot. He’s a nice guy.”

  “If you say so.”

  Hearing about Lidia’s childhood made me wonder yet again about Oscar’s father. Why wasn’t he living with him? I opened my mouth to ask Mi Jin, but closed it when Oscar returned, carrying a bowl of cereal and a plate stacked with what looked like a loaf’s worth of toast. He flopped down on the sofa and crammed a piece of toast in his mouth, eyeing me.

  “Psycho?”

  I was offended for a split second before I realized he meant my Bates Motel T-shirt. “Oh. Yeah.”

  “All you wear is horror stuff,” Oscar said dryly, and I gave him an icy stare.

  “One of the perks of my mom leaving. I can wear what I want without getting harassed.”

  As soon as the words left my mouth, I felt a pang of guilt. After all, Oscar’s mom had died. He’d been really young, according to Lidia, but it had still been an insensitive thing to say. And I had no idea what the deal was with his dad.

  But Oscar didn’t flinch. He just held my gaze, his expression inscrutable. After a few seconds of awkward silence, Mi Jin cleared her throat.

  “The first time I saw Psycho was at a friend’s sleepover in seventh grade,” she said, and Oscar finally looked away. “I hid my eyes through most of it. Same thing with House on Haunted Hill.”

  “That’s one of my favorites,” I told her. “Apparently when I was in kindergarten, I went around telling everyone I was going to marry Vincent Price.”

  “You watched that movie in kindergarten?” Mi Jin said incredulously.

  “My dad and grandma love horror movies. I grew up watching them.”

  “And you weren’t scared?”

  “Well, yeah, but in the fun way,” I said. “There’s the kind of scared you get from movies and stories, and then there’s the real kind of scared. Two different things. Horror movies are the fun kind of scary.”

  “I guess that makes sense.” Shaking her head, Mi Jin took a sip of coffee. “I can’t believe you had a crush on Vincent Price. That’s amazing. And a little frightening. Although now that I think about it,” she mused, “I went through a serious obsession with Cruella De Vil when I was seven. I wore fake furs and tried to convince my mom to let me bleach my hair on the left side so it’d be black and white. Somehow the fact that Cruella wanted to kill puppies didn’t register till later.”

  Oscar was staring at Mi Jin, wide-eyed. She grinned at him. “Problem?” Shaking his head silently, Oscar shoved the last piece of toast into his mouth. “No horror villain crushes for you?” Mi Jin added teasingly, causing Oscar to choke a little. I tried to hide my laughter behind my cup.

  Clearing his throat, Oscar tossed his napkin on the table. “Thomas Cooper’s coming,” he said curtly.

  Way to change the subject, I thought, wiping my eyes. “Who?”

  “Fright TV executive vice president,” Mi Jin explained. “He’s meeting us in Brussels.”

  “Nope. He’s getting in this afternoon,” Oscar told her. “I heard Lidia on the phone with him this morning.”

  “Really? Oh boy.” Mi Jin leaned back in her chair, chewing her lip.

  “Is that a bad thing?” I asked.

  “Yup.” Oscar picked up his bowl of cereal. “My guess is that he’s gonna cancel the show if the next episode’s ratings aren’t better.”

  “No way.” Mi Jin shook her head vehemently. “We just got a new host—he’s not going to cancel that fast.”

  Oscar shrugged. “That’s not what it sounded like on the phone. Lidia said something about the Halloween episode being our last shot.”

  He sounded supremely unconcerned, but his mouth tightened a bit. I drummed my fingers on my armrest, trying not to look as worried as I felt.

  “But that’s the next episode we’re shooting,” Mi Jin said, forehead crinkled. “In Brussels. That one will air on Halloween.”

  Two episodes. Do the math. I grimaced, remembering the thread about the host curse on the P2P forums. It didn’t matter if the curse was a publicity stunt or paranormal activity—all that mattered was that if it was real, then Brussels would be Dad’s last episode.

  Mi Jin must have noticed my expression, because she nudged my leg with her boot. “Cheer up!” she said. “We’ll find out what’s going on when Thomas gets here. And hey, bonus—he usually brings his kids! They’re probably on fall break right now. Jamie’s around your age, and Hailey’s in sixth grade.”

  I smiled, but I couldn’t muster any enthusiasm. This wasn’t fair—they weren’t giving Dad a chance. If Thomas canceled the show after Brussels, we’d be back in Chelsea by the end of the month.

  And the Thing would be waiting for me. So I had no intention of going back.

  CHAPTER NINE

  ATTACK OF THE KILLER RATINGS

  From: timelord2002@mymail.net

  To: acciopancakes@mymail.net

  Subject: hey

  Kat—I’m not supposed to be online (grounded again, like it’s my fault Trish brought Fang over and he decided to hide in our dryer while Mom was doing laundry) but I had to tell you—yesterday Trish’s parents took us all out to dinner and we saw your grandma. She was with your mom. I figured you’d want to know about another sighting. Do you think she’s moved back?

  I’m ungrounded this weekend. Maybe we can video chat or something.—Mark

  After breakfast, I endured an entire hour of Oscar’s dumb jokes during a geography lesson with Mi Jin. Then we read a creepy poem by Edgar Allan Poe, which would’ve been awesome if it wasn’t for Oscar adding his own stupid commentary every other line. I was relieved when Mi Jin gave us a few worksheets to do on our own so she could meet up with the crew. Grabbing the sheets, I hurried back to my hotel room for some quiet time.

  “Hey, Dad—oh, sorry,” I whispered when he glanced up, phone pressed against his ear.

  “Yeah, I understand,” Dad said, rubbing his forehead. “Well . . . that’s up to you.”

  I flopped back on my bed, staring at Dad’s reflection in the vanity mirror. He looked nervous. He sounded nervous. Which was weird, because Dad was a total pro when it came to stressful job stuff. If he was stressed, it had to be because of Thomas Cooper.

  “Okay. Well . . . now’s not a good time, honestly. I don’t . . . Look, I’ll let you know, okay? I’ve got to go.” Dad hung up and sighed.

  “Everything okay?” I asked tentatively.

  “Hmm?” Dad blinked a few times, then smiled at me. “Yeah, fine. Lessons going all right?”

  “Pretty good,” I said. “Mi Jin’s really cool. Oscar’s obnoxious.”

  Dad laughed. “You’ll be friends before you know it.”

  “No, we won’t,” I said flatly. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”


  “You’re right, sorry.” Dad stood, slipping on his jacket. “You’re clearly mortal enemies born to destroy one another. Neither can live while the other survives.”

  “Exactly.” I watched as he slipped his room key into his pocket. “So . . . Thomas Cooper’s coming today, huh?”

  “Yup.” Dad’s expression didn’t change as he headed for the door. “Around four, I think—you should come down to the lobby, I hear he’s bringing his kids. See you in a bit!”

  “Bye.” The second the door clicked shut, I tossed my worksheets aside and grabbed Dad’s laptop. I had to see what the P2P fans were saying now.

  But when I opened the forum, the title of the newest thread pushed all thoughts of the host curse out of my head.

  P2P FAN FORUMS

  The Kat Sinclair Files???

  Maytrix [admin]

  Someone sent me a link to this blog . . . Looks like Jack’s got a 13- yo daughter who’s traveling with the show! Could be interesting. She’s got a post up about the next episode in Rotterdam, which is pretty cool. But it’s the second post you guys should check out—apparently the show’s ghost is restless. Printer spitting out random messages, cameras going wonky, laptops turning off and on . . . great stuff! I kind of love that this girl’s giving us a behind-the-scenes look.

  skEllen [member]

  OMG I <3 THIS!!!1!!

  presidentskroob [member]

  do you think fright tv knows about this blog? like, is she getting paid or something? could just be another stunt.

  AntiSimon [member]

  It’s not a stunt. The show’s haunted, that’s why the equipment keeps freaking out.

  YourCohortInCrime [member]

  Yeah, that must be it. Couldn’t have anything to do with the fact that electronics glitch out sometimes.

  AntiSimon [member]

  YCIC, sometimes I wonder why you even watch this show. You’re not a believer.

  YourCohortInCrime [member]

  I watch because I want them to show me proof. THEN I’ll believe. And some kid whining about a broken laptop’s not gonna do it.