Asylum

by Kristen Selleck

  “Sam!” Chloe snapped, but her roommate was already out the door. With a last look at Jen and Mel, who sat together mutely, staring back with shell-shocked eyes, Chloe shouldered her bag and chased after her.

  Seth was still in his truck in front of the building. Sam raced across the sidewalk, leapt onto the side running board and hammered on the window.

  Seth rolled the window down just as Chloe caught up.

  “Hey-ya Sethy old boy, heard you guys were headed down to Traverse City, you mind if I tag along?” She smiled playfully.

  Seth looked over her head to make eye contact with Chloe. She dropped her head miserably and shrugged.

  “I’ll pitch in on a hotel room,” Sam added, “and on the beer!”

  “Clo?” Seth asked.

  “If you don‘t mind,” Chloe said.

  “Alright, get in. It’s already late and we’ve got a four hour drive in front of us,” he sighed.

  Sam clapped her hands excitedly and jumped down. She gave Chloe a thumbs up and ran around to the passenger side door. Chloe followed more slowly.

  “You first,” Sam offered, holding the door for Chloe.

  Chloe climbed in and slid across the bench seat, sitting as close to Seth as she could without actually touching him.

  “Thanks,” she mumbled.

  He nodded silently. Sam got in and banged the door shut. As they pulled away both girls looked back over their shoulders at the dormitory. There were more dark windows than usual. Again Chloe felt watched. The building was a blank face, the windows its eyes.

  “So why don’t you tell me what this is about?” Seth asked. “Traverse City is a long way to go just to run an errand for your professor.”

  “You know how stuff has been kind of going on in our room? Like the writing on the walls. The light burning out?” Chloe began.

  Seth nodded.

  “Well, there’s been a lot more than that even. We started researching the history of the building. We found out that all the stuff you told us was true, the guy that burned the place down? His name was George Townsend, he was an escaped lunatic that came from Newberry, and before that he was in the Northern Michigan Asylum-”

  “Traverse City,” Sam interjected.

  “Right. We think…we think he’s-” Chloe couldn’t bring herself to admit it to Seth.

  “We think he’s the one that’s haunting our room,” Sam finished for her, “and there’s more. While we were doing research for Dr. Willard, this guy…George Townsend? His name showed up on a list of subjects for us to look up, just tonight. Then we got back to the dorm and Mel’s acting like she’s possessed…no lie! Her and Jen got really drunk and were playing with the Ouija board and trying to contact George Townsend, and all of a sudden Mel fell over. Jen thought she was just so drunk that she passed out-”

  “How do you know they were specifically trying to contact George Townsend?” Chloe asked.

  “Jen told me everything while you were gone. So where was I? Right,” Sam answered herself, “Mel falls over and Jen thought she was drunk, so she crawls over to check on her and Mel pops up so fast that she almost smashed into Jen and she got up and started stumbling all over. So Jen still thought she was drunk, but her eyes looked really strange, like filmy-”

  “I noticed that too,” Chloe interrupted, “When I saw her, they were glazed over, really spooky-looking.”

  “Yeah,” Sam agreed, “But then Jen says Mel started trying to talk, but it was like…she couldn’t. She just kept opening her mouth and closing it and rolling her head around and falling over, and Jen was really getting freaked out. So then she starts writing on the wall in their room. The same stuff that was all over the room in ours--help, help, help, and Jen tried to stop her, tried to take the pen away, and that’s when-” Sam stopped and glanced at both Seth and Chloe to make sure she had their full attention. “That’s when she levitated!”

  “What?!” Chloe gasped. Beside her, Seth snorted.

  “It’s what Jen said! She just rose up off the ground a few inches and hung there, looking down on her. That’s why Jen ran.” Sam explained. “And that’s where we came in. We were coming back to drop off some stuff and go to the game and Jen almost ran us over. We went upstairs and Mel was writing a bunch of names on the wall in the hallway, and then she just passes out on the floor, right there in front of it. And get this Seth, the names were mostly people from our research list from Dr. Willard. People that were in asylums, and at different times.”

  “Wait,” Seth said at last, “She wrote all over the wall in the hallway? In my hallway?”

  “Wow, we tell him we witnessed someone being possessed and acting out the will of person that’s been dead for like, a hundred years and the only thing he’s thinking about is that there’s graffiti on the wall…that‘s amazing,” Sam laughed.

  “Sam cleaned it off,” Chloe added quickly, “Right?”

  “Yah, sure. So, all these names from the past aaaaaaand…at the very end of the list…Chloe’s name,” Sam announced.

  “Then Dr. Willard gave me a ride to the field and I asked him why he wanted us to research George Townsend, and he said that it was because of a ledger that he bought from an antiques shop and it was from the Northern Michigan Asylum. He said he was pretty sure the dealer had a letter that mentioned him, but he didn’t think it was relevant enough to buy for his collection, but now…now we just want to find out as much as we can about him. Because I want to know what he wants,” Chloe filled in.

  “And that’s why we’re going to Traverse City,” Seth finished.

  Chloe nodded. Outside millions of snowflakes caught in the headlights and flashed, tiny pinpoints of light reflected back at them. The speed of the car made it look as though the snow was flying at them instead of falling straight down.

  “You don’t think it’s possible that Mel and Jen are behind the whole thing?” Seth asked.

  “You should have seen how scared they were tonight!” Sam snapped.

  “They could have even been the ones that started all this,” Seth suggested, “…like a prank. They lent you a Ouija board, they knew you were up on the roof, they could have been the ones that wrote all over your bedroom wall. If you think about it logically-”

  “No.” Chloe and Sam said together.

  “They couldn’t have known about the other people we were researching, the ones for Dr. Willard,” Chloe said quietly.

  “They wouldn’t do that. They’re more scared than we are. You should have seen Mel! You would not doubt us at all if you’d seen her,” Sam argued.

  Seth blew out a frustrated breath and scratched his chin with one hand.

  “I feel like I’m in a really bad episode of Scooby Doo or something,” he smiled.

  “I’m Daphne!” Sam grinned.

  “I’m Shaggy,’ Chloe said glumly.

  “Well, since I’m driving the Mystery Machine, I guess that makes me Fred,” Seth decided.

  The girls looked at one another quickly, realized they had the same thought and started snickering.

  “What?” Seth demanded.

  “You’re Velma!” Sam laughed.

  “He’s always ready to pull the mask off our ghost and say, ‘just as I thought, the old caretaker…Mr. McGrumbles!’” Chloe smiled.

  “I am NOT Velma,” Seth argued, but he too was smiling.

  “Alright, Velma, alright,” Sam soothed.

  * * *

  After an hour, conversation in the truck dropped off. The snow had stopped falling well before they came to the bridge. Sam was slumped against the window. Chloe didn’t know if she was sleeping or not. The radio played low, people speaking in light British voices, probably NPR. Seth draped an arm around her and she leaned her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. The light whirring of wheels on pavement, suddenly became loud and metallic.

  “We’re crossing the bridge,” Seth whispered.

  Chloe sat up and tried to see out into the night. The two towers of the bridge we
re up-lighted by brilliant spotlights and the cables looked as though someone had strung them with massive strings of white lights. The entire bridge was flooded in light, making all else impossibly black. Disappointed, she sat back. She had only crossed the bridge once before, on her way to Birch Harbor for the first time.

  “My Dad remembers when they built the Big Mac. He was just a little boy. He used to ride the ferry to visit his grandparents in Petoskey, and he saw them building it. That was in 1957 I think,” Seth whispered.

  “It seems so big, it takes forever to get across,” Chloe whispered back.

  Seth nodded. He pulled her closer.

  “You’re not mad about Sam, are you?” She asked, keeping her voice low, “I know it was rude, but she really wanted to come.”

  Seth took awhile to answer. Chloe listened to the sound of the metal grating under their tires while he thought.

  “You can trust me too,” He finally said. “She’s not the only person that cares about you…that wants to help.”

  “You believe us, then? About everything that’s been happening? About George?” she asked.

  Again Seth took a long time before answering.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I can’t say what’s really going on. I don’t know if it’s the ghost of George Townsend the mental patient, or if it’s someone trying to scare you…the important thing is that you believe it. And right or wrong, I’m going to be there for you.”

  “Why do you like me?” Chloe asked suddenly. “I just don’t get it. I’m such a mess, and you’ve just got it so… so together.”

  “Aaaawwww Clo,” he chuckled, “I dunno. Why do you gotta ask a question like that? I guess it’s…you’re just so…I just do, okay?”

  “Okay,” she agreed without enthusiasm.

  He laughed deep in his throat and dropped a quick kiss on top of her head.

  “I just do,” he repeated.

  * * *

  The sun came in through the slats of the blinds of the hotel room. Chloe blinked a few times and rubbed her eyes. The night before was fuzzy. Seth waking her up…she was sleeping against Sam’s shoulder in a cold car. He had gone in to get a room. From the parking lot she could see across the road to a long black expanse of nothing. Lights twinkled in the far distance of the black space.

  “The bay,” he had whispered.

  Then the room, standard, like a hundred other hotel rooms. Two queen-sized beds…a chair…a desk…the TV on the dresser. It had smelled like chlorine. Too tired to care, she had kicked off her shoes and crawled into the bed nearest to the door. He had whispered something in her ear again, what was it?

  She blinked a few times against the light, her neck hurt. The pillow felt like it had a brick in it. She rolled over onto her side, and almost collided with an armpit.

  Seth! His arm was under her head. He still slept, breathing evenly in and out. She watched his chest rise and fall for a moment and then gently placed her hand on top of it.

  Seth. In his boxer shorts…warm…sleeping…solid Seth. She was suddenly conscious of the fact that she still wore her clothes from the night before. They felt dirty and rumpled. Sam slept somewhere close by, Chloe could hear the light snore she had grown so accustomed to. She was the only one awake.

  Slowly she lifted her hand and traced one finger down his chest, across a hard stomach. Not a muscled stomach, but lean, much harder than hers. She had never had the chance to touch another body, not in the whole life that she could remember. It was strange, comforting. She wished again that Sam had stayed in Birch Harbor.

  Seth flinched in his sleep and curled the arm under her down and around her waist.

  “Good morning,” she whispered.

  He grunted.

  Chloe rose on her elbow and looked across his body. In the next bed, Sam was restless. She snorted once and rolled onto her side. Usually, this was a signal that Sam would begin her slow process of waking up. Chloe lay back down and snuggled against Seth’s side, throwing an arm across his chest.

  “Uhhhhhhhh,” Sam groaned, announcing her return to the world of the living.

  Next to her Seth opened his eyes a crack.

  “Still tired,” he breathed, shutting his eyes again.

  Chloe rolled away quickly and launched herself off the side of the bed.

  “I need a shower,” she said to the two still fighting to stay asleep. She grabbed her backpack and made for the bathroom.

  “I need a couple more hours of sleep,” she heard Sam mumble behind her.

  The hot water felt good. She scrubbed the night off and toweled dry in the steamy bathroom. Her clean clothes felt cold and clammy against her skin. She ran a brush through her hair and carefully applied make-up.

  Sam poked her head in while Chloe was putting on the finishing touches with a mascara brush.

  “Breakfast?” Sam asked hoarsely.

  “Sounds good,” Chloe agreed.

  Out in the room, Seth was already in his jeans, pulling a black knit sweater over his head. He tugged his fingers through his hair a few times and checked the mirror, rubbing his hand thoughtfully against the stubble on his jaw.

  “So where to?” he asked, seeing Chloe’s reflection emerge from the bathroom.

  “The place is called Odd Ends. Dr. Willard wrote the address on the check,” she said, “We can ask at the front desk where it is.”

  “But breakfast first,” Sam chimed in, she was dressed and standing in front of the full length mirror applying another layer of make-up over the previous nights’ “I know a pretty decent place.”

  Chloe followed Sam and Seth into a bright, cold morning and gasped. Her mouth fell open.

  Across a busy two-lane road, Traverse Bay spread out before them, glinting, shimmering, endlessly moving. Yachts and sailboats glided slowly across the waters. The arms of land that cradled the body of water on either side were sleeved in the rustling oranges, reds and yellows of Fall. It was so brilliant in the morning light that she had to squint.

  “Wow!” she breathed.

  “Traverse City is one of the best kept secrets in the world,” Seth said. “It’s beautiful and even though it’s big, it still feels small. If you’ve got to live south of the bridge, I don’t see why anyone would chose anywhere besides here.”

  “Because it’s too close to nowhere,” Sam grumbled, giving the bay an unimpressed glance, “and don’t forget the winters…and the cost of living! Gah! I could go on and on. What about breakfast?”

  The three piled into the truck and, with Sam navigating, they found a shabby and unassuming greasy spoon with a faded sign that read ‘Mabel‘s’, where there was almost no parking to be had. Inside, it reminded Chloe of the Eat, except that at eight in the morning every table was full and people stood around the door craning their necks to find an overlooked seat. There was no hostess. Getting a seat seemed to be by one part luck, one part aggression.

  They got lucky and happened to be standing by a table of old timers waiting for their change. Sam sat down before all of the grizzled, flannel-coated men had left the table, and waved Seth and Chloe over impatiently.

  “Best cherry pancakes you ever had,” Sam contended, “Or get the Belgian waffles with cherry toppings. They also have an omelet with cherry salsa in it-- I’ve never been that brave-- but the french toast with cherry syrup is phenomenal!”

  “Does everything have cherries in it or on it?” Chloe wondered.

  “It’s Traverse City!” Seth and Sam said in unison, as though this explained everything.

  “Well…what if you don’t like cherries?” Chloe asked.

  The chattering of other diners around them stopped. People turned in their seats to look at the three accusingly, with many raised eyebrows.

  “She’s a riot isn’t she?” Sam laughed forcibly, “Who in their right mind doesn’t like cherries? Funny!”

  Conversation resumed and Sam shot Chloe a disgusted look before flipping open her menu.

  “Cherries are kind of a b
ig deal here,” Seth tried to smooth over in a low voice. “Something like 75% of all tart cherries sold in the U.S. are grown right here, and a lot of the sweet varieties too. It’s the cherry capital. Restaurants round these parts are famous for finding really unique ways to use cherries in cooking. There’s cherry burgers, salads with dried cherries, chicken-cherry salad sandwiches, turkey in cherry sauce, cherry wine-”

  “I think I had a cherry soup one time,” Sam added straight-faced.

  “Order?” barked a sweaty-faced waitress, holding her pen poised above a pad of paper.

  “Cherry pancakes with maple syrup and a glass of cherry juice,” Sam said folding her menu. The waitress scribbled it down.

  “What do you suggest?” Seth asked, handing the waitress his menu.

  “Number three,” the waitress said quickly, “The Traverse City Scramble, side of baked cherries with raisins and brown sugar…real good.”

  “Sounds fine,” Seth agreed.

  The waitress glanced at Chloe and made a flipping motion with one hand, indicating her impatience. Chloe felt the tiniest bit offended.

  “I’ll have the cherries with…cherry toppings, and…let’s see…a side of cherries with…extra cherries?” Chloe ordered.

  The waitress rolled her eyes, scribbled something on her pad and raced off.

  “What do you think I just ordered?” Chloe whispered.

  “Oh I’d say the cherries…with a heaping portion of spit wad topping and maybe even a side of snot rocket,” Sam snapped. Seth laughed into the palms of his hands. “Idiot!” Sam hissed for good measure.

  “Things are so different down south,” Chloe complained.

  “Ya’ll don’t reckon things is just as different here?” Sam drawled imitating a deep south accent. “Give it up Chloe, you’re from Michigan, even if you’re a troll, you should still know better!”

  “You know how to play Euchre at least?” Seth teased.

  “In theory,” Chloe shrugged.

  Sam and Seth groaned in unison.

  “Well you can’t marry her then, Seth,” Sam decided, “You know that once you tie the knot that’s pretty much your Euchre partner for life, right?”