The black smoke was too thick. He never made it to the ninth floor and the thuds and screams that reached his ears left a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. The people on the ninth floor were dying. John sat huddled in on himself through the chaos, tears streaming down his blackened face. The key to the fire escape door slipped from his hand and made a small clink as it landed safely on the roof.
9
The Paranormal Posse met in front of the Harris building. "That's new," said Hector, pointing to the lighted Harris Building sign over the entrance.
Marcos knocked on the side entrance. No one answered. He turned and shrugged to the rest of the group. "Maybe he's running late." Everyone set down their gear and waited.
Hector called Mr. Harris on his phone. No answer. They waited for forty-five minutes and still no one appeared to let them in to investigate.
"Maybe he forgot the day?" asked Bev.
"We confirmed the details several times," Marcos said as he dialed the number one more time. "You don't think something happened to him?"
"Nah." Hector picked up his backpack. "Something came up or he forgot. I'm sorry, guys. This is totally beyond our control."
"It happens," Tony said. "Let's go get a drink."
As Marcos opened the door to Ruli's, Hector's phone rang. "Hello, Mr. Harris?"
Hector motioned for the rest of the Posse to go on, and then turned around and sat down at one of the outdoor tables. Tony groaned and Bev rolled her eyes.
"Well, of course he would call now," Bev said.
"Come on. Let's grab a table," said Marcos.
Hector returned to the group ten minutes later and sat down in front of a frosty mug of beer. He took a sip.
"Well, what happened?" asked Marcos.
"We're not investigating."
"I think we figured that one out. Did he forget?"
"No, I mean we are not investigating, as in ever."
"What the hell happened? He was all gung-ho a couple of days ago."
"From what I gathered, his father caught wind of the investigation and said 'No way.' Something about it being bad for business, the reputation of the building, the usual blah, blah, blah."
"What did you say?"
"I told him this wasn't going to show up on the news. We do private investigations all the time. He didn't want to hear it."
"Y-ho-le."
"But, I did convince him to let us arrange a house blessing. I told him it might put the spirits at ease."
"Do you have someone in mind for the blessing?"
"Yep, Father Eugenio. He's a friend of my family and he works as a chaplain at the University Medical Center downtown. Since its close, I'm hoping he can help us out on short notice."
"When are we doing this?"
"Allen said the sooner the better so I told him tomorrow afternoon." Hector faced Bev and Tony. "Sorry to waste your time like this."
"Hey, there's beer and good company. Not a waste of time at all," said Bev.
Hector raised his mug and everyone clinked their mugs together. "Here's to all the ghosts out there. May they rest in peace."
***
Hector and Marcos met Father Eugenio outside the Harris Building the next afternoon.
"Thank you for coming on such short notice," Hector said as he led him into the elevator.
"I told you this morning, it was no trouble at all. How's your family?"
"Good."
"I was at the hospital on Sunday. How was the service?"
Hector shifted back and forth. "I don't know, Father. It's been a long time since I've been to a Sunday service."
"You know services are at six-thirty in the evening, too, if you're busy on Sunday mornings."
"Here we are," Marcos said as the elevator doors opened.
Hector jumped in front of them. "His office is right around the corner."
Hector turned the corner and found Allen sitting at his desk. "Allen, this is Father Eugenio."
"Father, it's a pleasure to meet you. Please have a seat. Marcos can you grab another chair?"
"Sure."
Hector waited for Marcos, and then turned to Allen. "So, do you have any questions?"
"A bunch."
Hector chuckled, "Great. I'm going to let the Father take it from here then."
"So this is a house blessing?" Allen asked.
"Yes," Father Eugenio replied.
"You're going to bless each condo?"
"I can. It shouldn't take too long."
"I'm not Catholic, Father."
"We can fix that."
Hector noticed Allen's puzzled expression. "Don't worry; he pesters me all the time."
Father Eugenio faced Hector. "I wouldn't use the word 'pestering.'"
"Nagging, then?"
"Hectoring," Marcos added with a grin.
Hector watched Allen fidgeting with a pen. "Sorry. Go ahead."
"Father, do you believe in ghosts? I think it's kind of strange a priest would be involved with something like this."
"Yes, the church has strict rules on what to do, but I can tell you, I've experienced strange things at the hospital. I can also tell you prayer is the right way to handle any situation."
"If you don't mind sharing, what have you seen at the hospital?"
"Oh, nothing spectacular. Sometimes equipment starts acting up. The switchboard will start to go haywire and the operators will ask me to stop by. The heart monitors at the nurse's station start working again as if someone is in the room, and no one is there."
"And you go in and bless the room?"
"Yes, and we pray."
"And that fixes it?"
"Yes."
"Does it ever happen again?"
"Sometimes. Many people die in a hospital, even within one day."
"So it happens again because more people die."
"That's been my experience."
"I'm sorry for backing out of the investigation, guys. My father's reaction surprised me when I let slip what we were going to do."
"I don't think you need to apologize for a good decision," said Father Eugenio.
"You don't approve of this 'ghost hunting'?"
"Not exactly," said Hector.
"No, not at all," said Father Eugenio. "Let me make this very clear. The Bible says we are not to contact spirits in any way."
"Do you think they're bad?" said Allen.
"Not all ghosts are demons. In fact, some people have categorized seven different kinds of ghosts. There's even one type that appears bright and happy, bringing messages of hope and love from a friend or family member to comfort us. I think God's compassion allows this sort of thing." Father Eugenio leaned forward. "However, Satan may be using these spirits to feed an unhealthy curiosity that could lead to danger. God warns against contacting the dead because He fears for our soul."
"This is why we get along so well," said Hector, motioning between himself and Father Eugenio.
Everyone waited while Allen tapped his pen against the top of his desk. "I would rather not be bothered by these... ghosts, apparitions, whatever you want to call them. I don't want anyone who stays here to be bothered by them either."
Hector leaned forward to speak, but Father Eugenio interrupted him. "Then let's go make peace with this house."
Hector led Father Eugenio as he moved from apartment to apartment and room to room, his voice ringing loud and clear: "Oh God, protect our going out and our coming in; let us share the hospitality of this home with all who visit us, that those who enter here may know your love and peace. O God, give your blessings to all who share this room, that we may be knit together in companionship."
"O God, you fill the hungry with good things. Send your blessing on us, as we work in this kitchen, and make us ever thankful for our daily bread. Blessed are you, Lord of heaven and earth, for you give us food and drink to sustain our lives and make our hearts glad.
"Protect us, Lord, as we stay awake; watch over us as we sleep, that awake we may keep w
atch with Christ, and asleep, we may rest in his peace. Blessed are you, Lord of heaven and earth. You formed us in wisdom and love. Refresh us in body and in spirit, and keep us in good health that we might serve you."
Hector led them back to the elevators where Father Eugenio turned and said, "Peace be with this house and with all who live here. Blessed by the name of the Lord."
Silence rang out for a moment. Hector watched as Father Eugenio shook Allen's hand and entered the elevator. He stood in front of Allen. "If there is anything you need, don't hesitate to call me or Marcos anytime."
***
Allen stared at the elevator doors. He felt calm. Laurie and his daughters went to church on Sundays. Maybe he should start joining them.
He turned around and walked to his office door. Allen blinked his eyes as a form materialized and moved toward him. It was another young girl, beautiful, with an outstretched hand. She appeared dysphoric. Through the sadness, Allen was certain she wanted something from him. Between one blink and the next, she vanished.
OK , thought Allen, it's not the building that's haunted... it's me.
10
Allen arrived at his parents' house, dazed from yet another encounter with a ghost. His plan was to collapse on his bed and drink the memory away, for tonight at least.
In the living room, he found his mother perched on the edge of a chair, her eyes swollen and red.
"Mom, hey, what's wrong? Is Dad okay?" He scanned the room for signs of his father.
"Oh, Allen, he's so upset. He's never acted like this before."
"Like what? What happened?" Allen sat next to his mother, putting a hand on her back.
"Remember the bracelet?"
"Yea, of course. Laurie loved it."
"I'm glad, honey." Allen handed her a Kleenex. "Apparently it meant something to him. He's upset I found the bracelet and gave it to you."
"I thought it was yours."
"I found it in his dresser while I was going through his clothes to give to Goodwill. I thought--oh, I don't know what I thought. I assumed he meant to give it to me as a present, but forgot. I could have sworn he saw me wear it."
"Is he upset we gave the bracelet to Laurie?"
"Allen, I'm not sure what he wants. Please, go talk to him."
Allen opened the door after a soft knock and poked his head in. His father sat on the bed, shoulders slumped, fingering a stack of neatly folded papers held together with string.
"Dad? Can I come in?"
His father nodded his head, but didn't look up.
Linen curtains diluted the desert sun shining through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the master bedroom. Allen picked up a small ottoman and sat in front of his dad. "If this is a misunderstanding about the bracelet, I'm sure we can fix it."
Mr. Harris continued running his finger along the light brown edges of the papers with his thumb. "Have there been problems with the building?"
Allen frowned. "No, Dad. Everything's great. We need two or three leases and we're full. Why?"
"That building has been nothing but trouble for this family."
Allen opened his mouth to answer, and then thought better of it. Opening up to his father had never been easy. The ceiling fan whirred overhead.
"I'm not sure what you're talking about, Dad."
His father leaned forward. "You've seen them." Mr. Harris held up the papers. "All the men in this family see them eventually, if they spend any amount of time there."
"Are you ready to tell me why? Why is that bracelet so important to you?"
Mr. Harris tossed the papers in Allen's lap. Allen picked them up and saw they were brown with age, the folds yellow and heavily creased. Mr. Harris told Allen everything he knew about the building and where the bracelet came from. After he finished, Allen explained the visit from Father Eugenio and the house blessing.
"It's been done before. Maybe some things can't be put to rest."
"I saw something right after Father Eugenio left." Allen tapped the papers against one palm. "I have an idea."
He pulled out his cell phone and dialed his wife. "Laurie, you remember when you said how all that material stuff didn't mean anything to you?"
11
Hector wiped his forehead on the sleeve of his shirt and stood back to admire their handy work. The office on the eighth floor of the Harris building held every piece of ghost hunting equipment Hector and Marcos owned: full-spectrum camcorder, laser grid scope, infrared camera, EMF meter, Digital thermometer, and a digital recorder to catch any Electronic Voice Phenomena.
Most of the attention was centered around a silver bracelet with semi-precious stones laying in the middle of Allen's desk.
After going 'lights out,' Hector and Marcos settled down for an EVP session alternately asking questions and addressing Margarita by name. They didn't hear any responses, so they finished the session, and left the equipment running for the night, hoping to catch something.
***
Time erased many things. She hung on to her name as long as she could, but eventually even that was lost in the snowy, black and white plane where she existed.
She was aware of some of the other girls who worked on as if nothing had happened. Familiar sounds, smells, and sights would gather in a burst of activity. Then fade away. It was dull, repetitive, yet hypnotic. It took every ounce of will for her to remember why she was here. Why she waited.
A brilliant silver gleam made her start. She gathered the fragments of herself around the most beautiful thing in the world and sighed.
She lingered as long as she was able. Focusing took so much energy.
She felt herself spreading out and becoming wispy when a presence, dark and blacker than the black and white plane she lived in, swirled close. Fear flicked across her consciousness as she was engulfed by its form. She was not alone. Hundreds, maybe thousands, wandered aimlessly in the oblivion with her.
***
Allen removed the faceplate of the wall outlet behind his desk and tucked the bracelet in the recess. After staring at the bracelet for a moment, he searched the desk and unwrapped the packet of papers. On a blank piece of paper, an old key had been taped. Allen removed the yellowed brittle tape and placed the key beside the bracelet. He screwed the faceplate back on. He sat back on his heels and thought,
I hope this helps you find some peace.
***
Hector and Marcos sat at a long conference table in Scottish Rite Temple downtown analyzing the results from the paranormal investigation. They heard what sounded like a woman's sigh during the EVP session and forty minutes after they had left the building, the camera caught the sound and slight movement of the bracelet on the table.
Five minutes after the bracelet moved, a black mass darted across the screen, Marcos looked at Hector. "What the hell was that?"
Hector replayed the video several times, squinting hard at the screen before he replied, "I have no idea."
Table of Contents
Amador Lockdown (Available October 24 th, 2011)
by
Coral Russell
ONE - Concordia Cemetery
He thrusts his hands against the post and still insists he sees the ghosts. - Stephen King, IT
Hector jerked his head to the side. He scanned the area to his right for the shadow he thought he saw a second ago. Nothing. Goosebumps raised the hair on his arms. Maybe he was just being jumpy. The Paranormal Posse had been doing this ghost tour for months now, and he'd never seen a shadow before.
The midnight cemetery ghost tours were always sold out. In the purple and blood-red sky right before nightfall, figures shuffled forward with the scratchy sound of sand and small stones being kicked up in the cool night air. The cemetery was cloaked in darkness. Streetlights far away bordered the large lot. Beyond the streetlights were ranch style houses from the 1950s. Hector thought of the old joke, cemeteries make good neighbors because they're so quiet.
The Paranormal Posse, wearing black t-shirts emblazoned wi
th the glow-in-the-dark words 'El Paso Ghost Tours' and jeans, encircled a group of thirty people. Marcos, in front, Hector and Bev on either side and Tony brought up the rear. The group stood still and attentive when Marcos turned on his flashlight and pointed it skyward so that his face was an eerie mix of light and shadow. Bev caught Hector's eye and gave a slight lift of her chin with a puzzled look on her face. Hector shook his head and faced Marcos who started the tour.
"The Concordia Cemetery contains 400 years of history on 52 acres. Over 60,000 people are buried here. Back in the 1850s, it was the outskirts of El Paso and part of the Stephenson Ranch. The first grave was dug for Juana Maria Ascarate Stephenson after she was gored to death by her pet deer." Surprised chuckles trickled out of the darkness.
"I see some of you have a dark sense of humor," said Marcos as he walked backwards. Hector turned his attention toward the group. The Posse took turns leading the weekend ghost tours and tonight Marcos was up. "The Cemetery grew and became known as El Paso's 'Boot Hill' after the wild west came to town. Gunfighters like John Wesley Hardin, Constable 'Uncle' John Selman, Bass L. Outlaw, and Shotgun John Collins all ended up in this cemetery."
Playing with Fire (Anthology of Horror) Page 11