“Are you listening?” Asher said, “He shut me down too.”
“I told you not to talk to him in the first place,” Justin replied. “We’ll have to figure this out on our own like we always planned.”
“How will we do that?” Asher asked. “I can’t spy on people forever. I have a life, you know?”
Justin said, “We all do, unless…” he stood from his chair. “We talk to the dead.”
“No way.”
“They will know. They have to,” Justin said.
“You go alone and I’ll be surveillance.”
“It’s getting dangerous. We need to stay as a pair. I’m positive you’ll get killed if you stay alone.”
“Me?!” Asher exclaimed.
“Are you in or not?”
Asher’s heart raced. Despite the fear creeping into his mind, he chose to put his cowardliness away and make something out of himself. Lead to gold, he thought. Determination in his voice, he said, “Fine, I’m in.”
At 3 am, they woke up, got dressed, and went hunting. Mom would home in a few hours. They hoped to bring her good news. Asher held the flashlight. Justin wore the GoPro and carried the EMF reader.
Thinking they’d have better luck in the secret tunnels, they entered the tunnels on the third floor. Asher followed Justin into the secret passage. He held the flashlight over his big brother’s shoulder. Walking so close, Asher stepped on the back of Justin’s shoe. His brother turned back and glared at him.
Neither of them were fully energetic. If Justin’s little pet peeves were teased, he’d go off like a rocket. Asher kept a few steps between him and his brother. He didn’t know why he should be so scared. The dead were on their side.
They reached a T-intersection. Justin turned a corner and was suddenly launched five steps back in the opposite way.
Asher cursed, standing at the middle of the three forking paths. If he leaned to the left to check on Justin, he’d leave his back exposed. If he leaned to the right, whatever hit Justin might attack him.
Asher squeezed the flashlight tightly. It trembled in his hand. Breathing heavily, he whispered his brother’s name.
No reply.
Asher took a step forward. His foot pattered on the wooden floor.
The limbering man turned the corner. His naked fat rolls squeezed against the walls. The tie strangled his meaty neck so hard his blubber-like face had turned purple. His tongue dangled out the front of his puffy lips. His acorn pecker was lost under his folds of fat.
Asher screamed and ran back.
Gargling, the naked man dashed to the left.
Asher got five feet before hearing Justin’s scream.
Shaken to the core, Asher ran to his brother. “Justin!”
He turned the left corner. The obese man’s body mass filled the width of the tunnel. The light reflected on his back sweat. Justin’s scream was muffled by the man’s chest. Though Asher could only see his brother’s feet, he could tell his entire body was being squeezed into the fat man. The stranger moved down the hallway in an alarmingly quick rate.
Asher ran after him. His mind clicked off. If he’d actually thought about what was happening, he’d urinate his pants. Asher reached out. His fingers slipped behind the necktie and the man’s icy, moist skin. Roaring, Asher pulled at the man’s tie and smacked him over the head with the flashlight. One, two, three good hits before the fat man purposely fell back on Asher. One moment he was standing and fighting, and the next he was underneath hundreds of pounds of cold, naked man lard. Curly back hairs scratched Asher’s lip and tongue.
His chest hurt from the inside as much as the out. Asher wheezed. He reached for his inhaler, but his entire body was lost under the man, along with the flashlight. Shrouded in darkness, Asher fought to breathe, to move, to live.
“You fat son of a—" Justin’s voice was quickly snuffed out by the man’s chest.
Asher pushed against the back fat, but his noodle-y arms failed to move. The walls of Asher’s consciousness pressed in on him. He kicked and screamed. His strength drained. He cried out for help, but no one heard him. He was drowning in fat.
The fat man sat up slow like a sumo wrestler.
Crushed, Asher was limp on the dusty floor. The light shined on his fractured, perspiration-covered glasses and bloody nose.
Justin struggled violently in the man’s bear hug. Lubricated by the man’s sweat, Justin slipped out from under him and scurried in the opposite direction.
Enraged, the purple-faced, swollen-tongued man gurgled. He put his meaty hands against the walls and attempted to stand.
Justin drew back his foot and stomped on the center of the man’s face. “Die!”
Unfazed, the fat man grabbed Justin’s ankle with both hands and pulled his feet out from under him.
Justin flopped backward. His head struck the floor and he stopped moving.
The fat man picked Justin up. Justin’s head dropped to the side, resting against the man’s chest. His feet dragged behind him. The fat man carried him into the darkness.
Jets of shaky breath escaped Asher’s mouth. Nose blood trickled over his lips and onto the floor. Quivering, he moved his hand to his pocket and gasped in pain. He felt like his entire body had been wrung out like a wet towel. Wheezing loudly, he moved his inhaler to his lips and pressed down on the top. Like the breath of God, medicine shot life into him. He let his hand fall limp beside him. The inhaler rested in his open palm. Eyes to the dark ceiling, he lay still.
He didn’t allow himself to think. There was too much at stake. He snatched the flashlight and carefully got to his feet. Keeping the inhaler in his pocket, he rested his shoulder against the wall. He aimed the light down the claustrophobic corridor. Dust particles danced in the air.
“Ju-Justin!” Asher called. The constricting walls drowned out his voice.
Full of fear, Asher whimpered. He turned away from where his brother was taken. He dragged his limp leg behind him. He kept one hand on the wall for balance. His fogged glasses rested lopsided on his bleeding nose. He breathed through parted lips. Even his simplest motion was agony. He turned the corner at the hallway’s “T” and bumped into a skinny man.
Asher stumbled back a step. His light shined into the crimson muscle tissue of a faceless man.
Asher walked back until he hit a wall and sank down low. “No. Please, please, no…”
The faceless man clacked his teeth. His ball-like eyes peered deep into Asher’s soul.
He took steps towards Asher.
“I’m trying to help you!” Asher cried. “I’m on your side! Don’t come closer!”
The faceless man grabbed fistfuls of Asher’s shirt and lifted him up.
“Why are you doing this?” Asher wept.
The faceless man set Asher on his feet and let go. Keeping his face to the boy, he lifted his left arm and pointed down the left corridor.
Asher wiped a tear away. “You want me to go down there?”
The faceless man was silent.
For the first time, Asher could see the intricacies of his exposed muscles. It was so inhuman he couldn’t process it was real. “Okay.”
He turned away from the monster and limped through the corridor. He turned a corner and found a doorless room in the tunnel. A table stood at the center. A film projector sat on top. Its lens pointed to the wall. This part of the passageway was undiscovered by Asher. It must’ve been sealed behind its hidden doors. Secrets within secrets.
Justin sat on the chair behind the projector. His back was to Asher and he faced the wall where the image would’ve appeared.
“Justin?” Asher took a step inside.
The projector clicked on.
Little burns spots interrupted the grainy image that took up most of the back wall.
Asher put his hand on Justin’s shoulder and shook him. “Wake up, man. We have to leave.”
The word He projected on the wall.
Asher watched.
The next word was
Is. Then. Here. The film restarted. One word at a time, it showed the sentence He Is Here.
“Who?” Asher asked.
He saw something in the corner of his eye.
The naked fat man stood to his left.
A woman in a green dress stood to the right.
Neither of them moved.
The faceless man stepped in behind Asher.
Asher cried, “What do you want from me?! I already agreed to help you.”
The video suddenly changed.
It showed a beautiful woman looking right at the cameraman. She put on lipstick. She had a slender neck, hazel eyes, and olive skin. She wore a green dress. Asher recognized her as the monstrous specter beside him. The scene abruptly changed. It was nighttime and the woman was now lying face down in the woods. The camera shook each time the camera operator breathed. He lifted a knife into view. The flashlight attached to the camera overexposed the bloody knife blade, making it appear as a shard of light. The cameraman moved closer to the woman. He rolled her over. Leaves and dirt shrouded the opening on her neck. Her eyes were half open and lifeless. As quick as the blink of an eye, the killer struck with the knife. The camera cut away before Asher could see where it hit.
The next scene played out quickly. The naked fat man lay in a shower with a necktie wrapped tightly around his throat. He was dead. The next clip showed a close-up of a surgical scalpel running down the skin by someone’s ear. The video cut to a brief image of the faceless man.
Suddenly, the film roll caught fire. The projector sputtered. It flashed the sentence He Is Here a final time before cutting off.
The flame died a second later.
Asher stood behind his brother. All three of the others had vanished.
“Asher?”
Alarmed by his brother’s voice, Asher ran to Justin’s side and dropped to a knee. “Hey, hey, you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Justin said. “Where are we?”
“The secret passage on the third floor,” Asher said quickly. “Are you hurt, man?”
“Why are we in the passages?” Justin asked.
“You don’t remember?” Asher asked. “I’ll tell you later. Right now, we need to go. We’re not safe here anymore.”
Not that they ever were.
31
Deadly Confession
Stephen rested on the floor, his arms stretched out to his sides, one ankle crossed over the other and a smile stuck on his face. From an outsider’s perspective, he looked like a jolly madman or someone who just had the best day of their life. He was neither of these things. Frankly, the morning had just begun. Nothing greatly eventful happened the day before. He had little money, an extra change of clothes as the Bible had told him to bring, and a heart sold out to Jesus. He lay there, giddy, strange and separate from the cynicism of natural reality. In his mind, he saw himself as leaning against God the Father’s bosom as a little infant. He had more visions like this lately. His home was God’s lap.
The morning sun grew over the horizon, casting crimson and gold rays across the darkness. Stephen opened his eyes to the suite’s spackle-covered roof. He sighed like a man in love and sat up. The dim room prevented him from seeing more than shapes in the room around him. His back popped as he turned to the side. It was a reminder that his flesh was frail. He stood up and reached high. He only wore boxers and had no need to change into anything else. His feet took him to the window. He rested his palms on the sill and watched the eastern sun. His bank account was in shambles, his name was tarnished in the Catholic circle, he had no friends, no family, and no plan. Un-ironically, life was good. It had been since his great encounter.
He yawned and gave thanks for abundance. He spun around and danced. He pirouetted and leaped throughout the living room. His moves were clunky and unrefined. It probably would’ve gotten him a few laughs if he went on a stage. He would never dance on stage. He never wanted to dance at all until he read about King David wearing only his ephod and dancing before the Ark on its way into Jerusalem. The people loved their king and his perceived madness for his God. Watching him dance, one of David’s wives resented him. Her womb became cursed and she never bore a child. Reading that was the last time Stephen silently judged another’s worship.
Working up a sweat, Stephen fell back into his bed. He caught his breath but kept himself from falling back to sleep. Though he had no plans, his day would be busy.
He took a short shower and put on his priestly garments. He combed his brown hair. The few grey hairs reminded him of natural mortality. After brushing his teeth, he slipped on his priestly collar and set out into the hotel. He walked the halls before anyone was awake, speaking in an unknown language that he didn’t understand. He’d crossed a threshold a while ago where his faith turned into something bewildering. He trusted that the Lord was doing something to the hotel’s putrid atmosphere when he prayed in spirit.
He eventually reached the downstairs and walked into the lobby. Justin slept on the chair behind the counter. His hair was wet from a shower and his face was sickly pale. Stephen came up to the counter and cleared his throat.
Justin quickly sat up. He glanced around the room in a panic. Seeing he was safe, he asked, “What can I do for you, man?”
“I had a feeling you’d gotten in trouble last night,” Stephen said.
Justin asked, “What are you talking about?”
“In the middle of the night, I heard what sounded like you shouting on the other side of my walls. It sounded serious,” Stephen said.
Justin looked dumbfounded. He said, “Yeah, no. You must’ve been dreaming.”
Stephen said, “It sounded very real to me.”
Justin looked down at his hands.
Stephen asked, “Is there something you’d like to get off your chest?”
“No, I’m good, man.” Justin lied.
Stephen wanted to push the issue, but opted for, “Oh, yes, well, if you ever want to talk. Come find me.”
“Thanks.” Justin’s tone indicated that he wouldn’t take up the ex-priest’s offer.
If you only knew, boy, Stephen thought. You could be so free in the midst of the storm.
Stephen went outside. The late autumn air chilled him. He crossed his arms, conserving as much heat as he could. Leafless trees extended as far as the eye could see. He took a whiff of nature, reminding himself it was good. He hiked through the woods. Fallen leaves crunched under his feet. The cold seeped into his bones. He reached the woods’ edge and saw the endless Atlantic.
He strolled along the rocky coastline. Waves broke against the large, smooth stone. There was a lesson to be gleaned from refined rock and the endurance it earned from the constant barrage of waves.
You’re coming home.
Stephen stopped in his tracks. He mumbled, “When, Lord?”
Soon.
Stephen asked hesitantly, “Earthly or spiritual home?”
No reply. Deep down, he didn’t want to know the answer.
He straightened his uniform, thus flattening the wrinkles. “I’m ready.”
For far too many years in his life, he’d feared change and compromised. That wasn’t who he was anymore. He returned to Club Blue, uncertain of what to expect. The longer he stayed in his thoughts, the more worry started to creep in. He put such things to death and refocused his mind on joy. It wasn’t joy from external pleasures/achievements, but from within.
His stomach grumbled.
Fast.
“Today?” he asked, approaching the lobby.
Fast.
“Yes, Lord.”
His stomach growled again. He re-entered the lobby. He flashed a brief smile at Justin. The teenager eyed him suspiciously. He didn’t trust Stephen.
Stephen wanted to ask him again what he was going through. He knew that the boy would see him as too pushy. He knew the boy would be in the lobby for the rest of the day, but there was no time like the present.
Stephen’s phone dinged.
Surprised
to be getting a text, he opened the flip phone. It was from Fritz. He wanted to meet with Stephen. Stephen suggested the ballroom.
Yawning, he found a table near the front of the ballroom, slightly beneath the upper balcony. He shut his eyes. He longed for his morning coffee, but the fast was more important.
Dressed in his work jumpsuit, broad-shouldered and bald Fritz Lumbart descended the fancy ballroom stairs and joined Stephen at the table.
“Good morning, brother,” Stephen said.
“Morning,” Fritz replied.
Stephen asked, “Workday?”
“Yeah, I got to head out in ten,” Fritz naturally spoke slowly and deeply. “I’ve been thinking more about what you talked about yesterday.”
“About your wife?” Stephen said.
Fritz nodded. “Part of me wants to kill her.”
“And the other part?” Stephen asked.
“I want her to be happy,” Fritz said. “She mothered my kids, you know. She even brought me to church a few times.”
“These types of things are never easy,” Stephen replied.
“Is that why Moses had so many strict rules about divorce?” Fritz said.
“I’d say so, among other things,” Stephen replied.
Fritz said, “I wish I could go back and change it, but I don’t think I could be in the same building as her without wanting to punch the wall in.”
“Do you have violent outbursts often?”
“Only when I’m mad,” Fritz said. “That’s most of the time now. It makes me want to go back to my old habits.”
Stephen said, “The Lord delivered you from those once and for all. Yesterday, you became a new man. Behold, all old things are passed away and all things are made new. That’s what the Scriptures say. And, His mercies are new every day. Amen.”
Fritz shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I don’t feel like it though. One more stupid thing happens and I’m going to go ape.”
“Let me let you in on a little secret that might just change your life,” Stephen said.
Fritz listened, ready to drink up any advice he could get.
The Haunting at Sebring Hotel (A Riveting Haunted House Mystery Series Book 13) Page 20