by Ron Ripley
“This week,” Ken said, sitting down in a chair close to the desk, “she would like to see me ask out a young woman named Henrietta Bloch. Henrietta, from what my mother has told me, has just graduated from high school. She is brilliant with her nieces and nephews, and her family has seven children, including Henrietta. All of the girls have had strong, healthy children.”
Nancy laughed and shook her head. “And what about work?”
“Work?” Ken grinned. “Well, let’s see. She can run a Singer sewing machine, she won the bake off at the Lutheran Church this past winter, and she won several ribbons from the Contoocook Four-H club.”
“And your mother is generally confused about why you’re not asking her out?” Nancy asked.
Ken nodded.
“Is your father in on it too?”
“Just a little,” Ken said. “We went into the workshop for a smoke and a drink, and he asked who I was seeing.”
“Did you tell him you weren’t seeing anyone?” Nancy said.
“No. I lied. I told him I was seeing a second shift nurse, and I told him there was no need for me to buy the cow when I got the milk for free.”
Nancy laughed and then she put her glasses back on. “And that settled it with your father?”
“Just about,” Ken chuckled. “He told me my mom really wanted grandchildren, which is why she’s campaigning so hard.”
“Understandable,” Nancy said. “I had to bite my tongue when my son was still single. But, since you’ve finished with your weekly dinner, have you come for something new to read?”
“I have,” Ken grinned. “I have. Tell me, do you know any good westerns?”
“I know several,” Nancy said. She tapped a finger on her desk and then she said, “Have you read the book, Shane?”
“Wasn’t that a movie with Alan Ladd?” he asked.
Nancy nodded. “Yes. They based it on a book, though.”
Something crashed on the second floor, and Ken leaped out of the chair.
“Is anyone else here?” he asked.
“No.”
“Call security,” Ken said. He moved quickly to the stairs and then he ran up them. He took them two at a time and listened.
Another crash sounded.
Ken turned into the second floor and paused.
The building had been designed as a library. Each room then was separate, but large, and no doors hung in the doorways. Something skittered off to Ken’s right, and he turned towards it.
A book, lying on its back, was moving across the hardwood floor by itself.
Another crash broke the library’s natural stillness.
It came from the Dr. Le Grande Psychology Room. A large section filled with up to date case studies and reports as well as works by renowned psychologists.
Someone was ripping the room apart.
Books flew past the doorway, and several of them quickly scurried out as if on their own.
And perhaps they did.
Anything was possible at Middlebury.
Ken heard footsteps on the stairs, and he risked a glance back. Nancy was halfway up. An angry frown had settled onto her face.
“Who is it?” she asked.
Ken gave her a confused look.
“Who is it?” she repeated.
“I don’t know,” Ken said.
“Stay there, Kenneth,” Nancy said, storming up the rest of the way. She passed by him angrily and stepped over the books, which scurried out of the way with all of the awkwardness of frightened birds.
Ken followed her into the room as a fourth bookcase leaned forward precariously before it crashed to the floor.
Nancy came to a stop just inside of the room. “All of them.”
“What?” Ken asked, confused.
“It’s all of them. Look at the books.”
At least a dozen of the books fled out of the room. They slipped past Ken and Nancy to join the others in the hall.
“And do you smell the perfume?” Nancy asked him.
Ken was about to say no when he realized he did smell it. A sweet scent reminiscent of lilacs.
“Genevieve,” Nancy murmured. She looked at Ken. “And Klaus. As well as all of the children.”
Only two shelves remained upright, and one of them started to shake.
“Klaus!” Nancy snapped.
The bookcase stopped.
Nancy lifted her head up slightly, and her nostrils flared. She turned to the right.
Ken did the same, and he saw a large book suspended in mid-air.
“Genevieve,” Nancy said firmly. “Put it down.”
Ken watched, surprised as the book was slowly lowered to the floor.
“The rest of you stop,” Nancy commanded.
The soft sound of books being pushed across wood ceased.
“Now,” Nancy said. “Back to the third floor.”
“Nancy,” Ken said. “What the hell just happened?”
She turned and looked at him. “You’ve been here long enough to know about the dead?”
Ken nodded. They had never spoken of it before, but he had assumed she knew as well.
Although not so intimately.
“Will you help me with the books?” she asked. “I’ll put them back in order tomorrow, but I’d like to get them up off the floor.”
“Sure,” Ken said. He stepped gingerly around the books scattered upon the hardwood. He took each tipped over bookcase in turn and set it back. At some point, each shelf system had been secured to the wall.
The dead had worked them free.
“You’re wondering who they are?” Nancy asked as he started to pick up books alongside her.
“I was,” he answered.
“Shortly after the First World War,” Nancy said, “there was the flu epidemic. Do you know anything about it?”
“No,” Ken said.
“The flu we have today is based on Spanish Influenza,” Nancy said, “which killed millions of people worldwide. It came through to New Hampshire, too, of course. They believe it spread from Massachusetts, but it doesn’t really matter where it came from or how it got here. What matters is it did."
“Hundreds of people became sick. And, of course, people became sick here at the Sanitarium. It swept through, and they attempted to isolate children who were infected by placing them in the library. Genevieve and Klaus were the oldest at sixteen each. Fifteen other children, ranging in age from nine to fourteen, were placed here. They all died.”
“Damn,” Ken said softly.
Nancy nodded.
“Are they always this wild?” he asked. “Or are they usually quiet when people are around?”
“They’re usually quiet,” Nancy said, straightening up and shelving several books. “I don’t know why they were like this today.”
Ken went to ask another question and stopped. He found his voice and said, “I think I know why.”
“Why?” Nancy asked, looking over at him.
Ken pointed to the floor which she had just cleared off.
Words were scratched deep into the wood.
Send the watchman away. We do not want him here.
Nancy looked at him, a confused expression on her face. “Why?”
“I don’t know, Nancy,” he said with a shrug. He bent down, picked up a book and put it on the shelf. “But I’d sure like to read Shane if you can find it.”
Chapter 23: Talking with Ken
Brian and Anne had reviewed all of the recordings, both the audio and video.
Eleanor had been the only sight to see, and she had been enough for Brian.
Anne, however, was excited by it.
“Do you think we’ll see more ghosts?” she asked him.
Brian nodded. “Yeah. There are plenty of them around. It’s just a matter of documenting them for the purchaser.”
“It was totally amazing to see the writing,” she said, glancing at the dark laptop screen.
“I just hope she doesn’t do anything more than write,
” Brian said with a sigh.
“Do they really interact?” she asked.
“They do more than interact, Anne,” Brian said seriously. “They kill.”
The statement curbed her enthusiasm.
“I forget about the killing,” Anne said after a moment. “I don’t know how I can, but I suppose there’s still the thrill of contact.”
“It is exciting,” Brian said. “But don’t forget there’s also danger and risk involved.”
From beyond the kitchen door came the sound of the shower.
“Ah,” Brian said with a smile, “our host is up.”
“Who is he again?” Anne asked.
“Ken Buckingham,” Brian said. “He’s a really good guy. And, basically, he’s the reason this place hasn’t gone straight to hell.”
“And what does he do?”
“He’s the third shift security guard.”
“Damn,” Anne said. “Third shift? This place is creepy enough in the daytime. How long has he been on third shift?”
“Since 1969,” Brian replied.
Anne blinked several times before she said, “1969?”
Brian nodded.
She shook her head as if she couldn’t quite wrap her head around the time frame.
“1969,” she said again. “Forty-seven years.”
Brian stifled a yawn and stretched. The desire to rest and sleep rushed over him and he fought it back. He had too much to do.
Brian stood up, stretched and walked to the window behind the sink. He looked out and saw three ghosts standing together a few feet away from the tree line. They watched him, two men and a woman. As Brian yawned again, a giant dog trotted out of the woods. It looked to be a black German shepherd, but Brian couldn’t be sure.
The animal came to a stop beside the woman and sat down. It too turned its attention to Brian.
Brian swallowed uncomfortably.
“Anne,” he said.
“Yeah?” she asked.
“Could you come here for a moment, please?”
“Um, sure,” she answered. Her chair legs scraped across the floor as she got up. A moment later she stood beside him. Her arm brushed against his, and the smell of her filled his nose.
Brian tried to ignore it.
“Do you see it?” he asked.
“See what...oh, damn. That’s a big dog,” she said after a moment.
Brian nodded. Part of him was relieved she could see it. Part of him wasn’t.
“See what?” Ken asked as he entered the kitchen.
Both Brian and Anne jumped a little at the man’s entrance.
“Sorry,” Ken said, chuckling. He finished straightening his sweater as he walked over to them.
“Oh,” Ken said after a minute. “This isn’t good. This isn’t good at all.”
“Why?” Anne asked, looking at the man.
“She hasn’t come out of the woods in years,” Ken explained. “Maybe fifteen years now.”
Anne glanced out the window. “The dog doesn’t look like it’s over fifteen years old.”
“She’s older than fifteen,” Ken said, taking down a mug and pouring himself a cup of coffee before sitting at the table. “Much, much older.”
“Anne,” Brian said as he walked over and joined Ken, “this is Ken Buckingham, our host. Ken, this is Anne. She’ll be helping me with the investigation.”
“A pleasure,” Ken said, smiling.
“Same here,” Anne said, returning the smile.
Ken stood up as she sat down and then returned to his seat.
“A gentleman,” Anne said, her smile broadening.
“Thank you,” Ken said with a short bow of his head. “Old habits. They have saved my life here more than once.”
“Really?”
Ken nodded.
“Ken,” Brian said, “how old is the dog?”
“Exactly?” Ken asked. “I can’t tell you how old she is exactly. I can tell you when I first met her, though.”
“When was it?” Anne asked.
“February fifteenth,” Ken said. He took a drink of his coffee. “February fifteenth, 1970.”
Chapter 24: Ken, February 15th, 1970 before Ike's Death
When Ken walked into the main office to punch in, he saw Gus still sitting at his desk. Ken took his time-card out of its slot, slipped it into the clock, and then he replaced it.
“Everything okay, Gus?” he asked.
Gus shook his head.
“What’s going on?” Ken said, stepping into Gus’ office.
“We’ll wait a minute or two, okay?” Gus asked. “I need Ike here before I tell you guys what the problem is. Take a seat, Ken.”
“Sure,” Ken said. He sat down in the worn leather chair across from Gus as the man picked up a pack of Lucky Strikes and got himself a smoke.
Once he had the cigarette lit, Gus leaned back in the chair and exhaled a long stream of smoke towards the ceiling. “You know, Ken, I always said I wouldn’t smoke.”
“Why’d you start?” Ken asked.
“Okinawa,” Gus said. “Some of the caves we cleared, well, you get half a dozen people who crawl in there and die. It doesn’t smell too fine. Smoking helped keep my chow down.”
Silence fell over them as they waited. A few of the other third shift guards punched in, said hello and wandered off. Ike showed up and hit the clock at five of eleven, his usual time.
“Come on in, Ike,” Gus said. “Close the door behind you, please.”
Ike did as he was asked and then he took a seat beside Ken.
“What’s the word, Gus?” Ike asked.
“The Dog’s back,” Gus said.
“Jesus H. tap dancing Christ,” Ike said with a groan. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall.
“Yup,” Gus agreed.
“What?” Ken asked, looking from Ike to Gus. “Who’s the Dog?”
“Dog’s not a who but a what,” Gus said. “Big old black German Shepherd. Mean as hell. Dangerous too.”
“Does it come around a lot?” Ken asked.
“She does,” Ike answered. “Too much for my liking.”
“She’s been around since nineteen twenty,” Gus explained. “At least, the earliest record we have of her for certain is nineteen twenty. One of the doctors saw her. If he hadn’t been able to get the resident away from the Dog, I don’t think anyone would have believed him.”
“Wait,” Ken said, shaking his head. “Are you telling me this dog’s been alive for almost sixty years?”
“Yes,” Gus said. “Do you doubt it here, Ken? Do you doubt Middlebury might have a dog near on sixty years old?”
“No. No, I don’t,” Ken answered.
“Who saw her?” Ike asked.
“Alex did. He was taking a walk around the back of the maintenance facility when he caught sight of her,” Gus answered.
“What time?” Ike said.
“Two forty-five,” Gus said.
“Damn,” Ike said with a sigh.
“Why?” Ken asked, looking from one man to the other. “Why ‘damn’?”
“The Dog strikes twelve hours after she’s been seen by security,” Gus explained. “So it means we have less than three hours to figure out where she’s going to hit.”
“She tells us?” Ken asked.
“If you know where to look,” Gus said.
“And Gus knows,” Ike continued. “See, Gus has dealt with her a few times.”
“Twice,” Gus said, correcting Ike. “Just twice. And the residents died each time.”
“So,” Ken said. “Where are we going to look?”
“You two are going to start behind the maintenance facility,” Gus said. “Look for her tracks. They’ll be big. Bigger than any dog’s you’ve ever seen. Don’t backtrack the Dog, okay? She never comes from where she’ll make the kill, but she does go towards it. When the tracks stop, you’ll be in the right area.”
“What do we do after they stop?” Ken asked.
&nb
sp; “You keep an eye open. Your ears too. You know what Middlebury is supposed to sound like at night,” Gus said.
“Anything else?” Ike asked.
Gus shook his head. “Do your best. She’s difficult, though. I already called the wife. She knows I’m staying here tonight.”
Ken heard the dismissal in Gus’ voice and stood up. Ike did the same.
“Okay, Boss,” Ike said. “We’ll check in soon as we find something.”
Gus nodded.
Ken followed Ike out of the office and through the building to the February cold. They both paused on the building’s stairs to put on their hats and gloves. Ken buttoned his collar up to his throat, adjusted his scarf and said, “Shotguns?”
Ike shook his head. “Won’t work, kid. Nothing works on her.”
“What about the first doctor? The one in the twenties?” Ken asked.
“He used his hands,” Ike replied. “Tried a pistol first, but no luck with it. He tried a stick and a shovel, but the only his fists worked. He finally managed to pry the damned Dog’s mouth open. Gus tried a rifle on it. Thirty odd six. Nothing. Not even a drop of blood. By the time he got it off of the resident the Dog had already crushed the guy’s head.”
“Great,” Ken said, looking out over Middlebury.
“Yeah. You know about once a year we lose a resident. Eventually, we find most of them. Dead, of course. But we find them. Occasionally though we don’t. The bodies never show up. We figure the Dog or something worse got them.”
“Something worse than an immortal dog?” Ken asked, looking at the older man.
Ike chuckled. “I know. I know. Yeah, though. There is something worse. A lot of things, actually. Anyway, let’s get a move on.”
“Fair enough,” Ken said.
They walked down the stairs and over to the guardhouse where they picked up some flashlights and a couple of handheld two-way radios.
Alex was in the guardhouse, and he looked exhausted. His paper was folded in half and lay neglected on the counter. He smiled tiredly at Ken and Ike.
“You okay?” Ike asked.
Alex gave a slight nod. “Don’t want to go home until it’s all done. Burke’s gone off to get some coffee for us and a sandwich for me. What are you two doing?”