Puzzle (Haunted Series)

by Alexie Aaron

  Patrick waved it off as if it were smoke from his cigarette. “We all got problems.”

  “Yes, but I for one am going to do something about mine.” She started to leave.

  “Where’re you going?”

  “Going to see a man about turning off the water to that school, toss an energon cube to the ghosties, and get my fiancé the hell out of there,” she listed.

  “Care if I tag along?”

  “Suit yourself,” she said as she climbed into the truck in search of Cid.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The group was tired but determined to move on. The climb to the second story was a quiet one. Just the squeak of Richie’s Converses on the risers accompanied the thud of their footsteps as they made their way upwards. The door on the second floor was open. As soon as they cleared it, it slammed shut. Burt turned to try it and found it was locked. He felt a shove at his back.

  “Someone wants us to pick up the pace. I wonder why?” Burt said. He watched John jump as he too was prodded by the unseen hand.

  “What the hell?” he complained.

  Richie looked nervous. “They can hurt you bad, dude. You can’t see them, but they can rip you apart. Manny was road kill in minutes.”

  John looked over at Richie. “Is that what happened to him?”

  “We were smoking pot out at Lucky’s, and next thing we know, we are getting shoved around. Dave could see them, but he couldn’t land a punch. I just ran for help. By the time the police got there, Manny was toast. Dave spent the night on the roof.”

  “That’s when you busted up your knee.”

  “Yes, I’ll never dance the Nutcracker, but at least I saved my nuts,” Richie said wryly. “I’m surprised you knew about Manny.”

  “I’m kind of a watcher. I notice a lot of things, like the floor here and below. It’s just been buffed, but the rooms were covered in dust and grime. A case of Not my job, man.”

  Burt, curious about what he was talking about, asked John to explain.

  “You see janitorial jobs are divvied up. The guys that do the halls don’t do the classrooms; they have a circuit they run. In the high school, I can tell the time in detention by when Mr. Laurie’s buffer goes by.”

  “Did you spend a lot of time in detention?” Burt asked. “Sorry, I’m being nosy. You seem such a smart guy…”

  “Smart ass, more like it,” Richie commented.

  “He’s right. Can’t keep my comments to myself. Can’t stay awake either. It’s not that the material is boring, but I spend way too much time late at night on the computer.”

  “World of Warcraft?” Ted asked.

  “Started with that, but I’m working on going pro with League of Legends, some of those guys make as much as a doctor does. Life for me was more interesting inside a game than outside. Or it was until Friday when we wandered in here.”

  “Broke in,” Richie corrected.

  “Yeah, broke in. I don’t know why I let Mason talk me into this. Money for a cooling system, a hard drive, you name it. ‘Easy money,’ he said. I listened to the siren call of my peers when I should have been filling out applications at the mall. Lesson learned,” John said as if he was checking an item off a list.

  They were halfway down the back hall of the second story when a door opened. A whiff of chemicals greeted them as they stepped inside. Black-topped, chemistry lab benches placed in a grid filled the room. The presence of test-tube-holding apparatuses and unfueled Bunsen burners testified to the last use of the classroom.

  “Chemistry. Thank god, I saw the benches and thought biology and feared we would have to dissect someone,” Richie shared.

  The four of them moved towards the front of the classroom. Burt was looking for instruction. Ted was looking for chemicals he could use. Ted was disappointed to find nothing more than half-used jugs of distilled water. John opened up one of the benches and shook his head. He was looking for fuel canisters. He, like Ted, was searching for something that could be used to get them out of the building, even if they had to blow out a wall or door. Richie just wanted to find out what the hell the invisible man wanted them to do next. He already had developed a rat in a maze mentality.

  “No chemicals,” Ted reported.

  “No fuel,” John added.

  “No fucking way,” Richie said as he stared at the white magnetic board behind the teacher’s bench.

  Before them was the Periodic table, or part of it. The elements that were present were shown in colorful magnetic squares. They were in disarray, and Ted’s first count showed only 50 were up there.

  “This is beyond me,” Burt said. “Chemistry was one area that I avoided in school.”

  “There are presently 118 elements,” Ted said.

  “But four of them were iffy when this place went under,” John added. “So maybe we only have to deal with 114 of them.”

  “Do we have to find the remaining sixty-two?” Ted asked.

  A whirl and a thud drew the group’s attention to a cart that was making its way down the center aisle. On it was a timer set on fifteen minutes and an apparatus set up with two chemicals separated by a slide that was controlled by the device.

  Ted quickly ascertained the chemicals and groaned. “Chorine and ammonia. If the top is opened and the chemicals fall into the bottom beaker then we’re in trouble. The mixture produces a toxic gas. We’re locked in here with no windows. We will be unconscious in minutes and probably die.”

  “They call it a housemaid’s death,” John said. “So, we have fifteen minutes to find the missing elements?” he asked.

  A drop-down board slowly descended. On it was written in block letters:

  FIND AND ARRANGE ELEMENTS IN ORDER, YOU HAVE FIFTEEN MINUTES.

  “Starting when?” Richie said and was answered by the ding of the countdown apparatus.

  “We’ll hunt for the missing ones. Ted, you arrange them on the board,” Burt shouted as he tore apart a cabinet and came up with four of the missing elements. He tossed them to John who ran them to Ted who already had the existing Lanthanoids separated from the Actinoids. John took a minute and gridded out the rest. He then ran and began his search of the room.

  Richie lucked out and found a hoard of the magnetic squares under the very cart the deadly experiment rested on. “Fucker, I know how you think,” he said as he ran the twelve to Ted. “Asshole thought we’d find them last and be up close and personal with the stench of death,” he complained. He handed them off to Ted who arranged them and shouted, “Forty-six more!”

  The three did a methodical search of the benches and cabinets and found another thirty-one in record time. While Ted sorted and arranged them, they started ripping posters and shelves off the wall and found an additional eight.

  “Seven!” Ted shouted.

  Richie jumped up on the benches and began popping out the ceiling tiles, jumping from bench to bench. He found five.

  John found one under the flagpole base in the corner and another stuck inside the teacher’s copy of Practical Chemistry.

  “Two more. What’s the time?” Ted asked.

  Burt glanced over and called out, “Five minutes!”

  “We’re missing Hydrogen and Oxygen,” Ted called to the others.

  “Water, check the fucking sinks,” John called out, ripping open the doors of one of the cabinets.

  “I’ve got one!” Richie shouted. “It’s an O.” He ran it to Ted.

  Burt was at the back of the room. He had searched under the two lab station sinks and found nothing. He got up and noticed the stainless sink gleamed blue. He ran his hand along the inside of the sink and found the final element. He ran up to Ted who placed the last element in its spot at the top. The far door clicked open, and the four of them ran for it. The clock as they passed it showed one minute.

  Burt opened the door and hustled the others out. He slammed it and ran down the hall as a cloud of stink whooshed out from under the lab’s two doors.

  ~

  The
sky grayed as the sun was nearing the horizon. Heavy rain clouds had moved into the area in the predawn hours. Murphy moved behind the trio searching for the underground shutoff valve for the school. They had only the twin school’s schematics to go by. It showed where it might be, but it wasn’t there.

  “Bloody hell!” Mia cursed as a memory crossed her mind. “It’s got to be at the street. It’s only in the back with the other school because it sets between two major thoroughfares. We either break the main here or search the street.”

  “Let’s try the street first,” Cid said. “A broken water main will cause more problems than solving one.”

  “And the utility crew will no doubt alert the cops,” Patrick said. “Come on, girly-girl, I’ll race you to the street.”

  Mia looked at Cid as Callen took off running. “We can take him,” she said.

  Cid left her in the dust. His long legs crossed the expanse effortlessly. She, on the other hand, got a stitch in her side trying to keep up with him. Mia backed off into a trot. By the time she ran out of the drive of the school, the two winded men had an access panel opened.

  “Loser gets to go underground. Careful, I heard the scurrying of little feet when I popped this baby open,” Patrick warned.

  Mia turned on her flashlight and clipped it to the front of her belt, facing down. As she stepped on the first rung of the ladder she commented, “Garret and Callen, last of the gentlemen.”

  “We’re feminists, girly-girl,” Patrick informed her.

  “Oh, yes, that’s the first thing I thought of - wasn’t it nice to have so many feminist around me,” Mia grumbled. Her words echoed back at her. “This access pit is larger than I expected. I wonder if the county had plans for other buildings. Shit.”

  “What’s wrong?” Cid asked, leaning over the manhole.

  “Stepped in shit. Raccoon maybe. If I get bit by a rabid varmint…” Mia broke off her threat as she examined the valve system in front of her. It didn’t seem to have been constructed too long ago by the amount of corrosion it showed. It also had a steady leak of water on the school side of the plumbing. “Righty tighty, lefty loosey,” she chanted as she tried to turn the spigot. It was stuck in the open position. Mia pulled a small crowbar from her pocket and looped it thru creating a more substantial handle. She then used the brute strength of both arms to move it. She got a full turn before it met with resistance, and after another tug, she was convinced she had the valve closed. She checked the leak and found it had ceased.

  Before she left, she took her light and shone it around the space. The place had breaks in the walls large enough for some of the larger rodents to get in. The steady drip of water would have been an advantage to whatever chose to make this its den.

  “I’m coming up,” she warned, but the warning fell on deaf ears. The access lid was dropped, and Mia was plunged into darkness. “Not funny, guys.” She had climbed up the ladder and positioned herself to push the cover off from below, when she felt the vibration of a vehicle moving past. She waited a few minutes and was rewarded by the cover coming off and a very apologetic Cid staring down at her.

  “Car. Thought it might be the police,” he explained. “Didn’t want to attract too much attention.

  “A heads up would have been nice,” Mia complained. She climbed out and stepped aside as Cid replaced the cover.

  Patrick looked sheepishly from behind the Clinton Middle School sign. Mia saw Murphy standing behind him. For the first time Mia saw a bit of a resemblance between the fence and the farmer. She wondered if the Callens and Murphys were related or maybe came from the same part of Ireland. If they were related, she wouldn’t hold it against Murphy. Criminals popped up in the best of families.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Audrey didn’t know what to expect entering Ira Levisohn’s room. Sure, there was the expected sterile environment needed to maintain the health of the coma patient, but the hospital had made attempts to make the room homey. Warm colors, decent chairs, and window treatments that let in the outside light without the stark glare, added to the overall atmosphere.

  Audrey chose a book to bring as a gift after finding out from the nursing staff that Phyllis Levisohn was reading to her son every day. She handed the book to the woman explaining, “I didn’t know if you had read this one yet.”

  Phyllis pulled the book out of the bag and read the title to her husband Albert, “The City of Dreaming Books by Walter Moers.” She held up the book.

  “Don’t let the book cover fool you, it’s not a children’s book,” Audrey warned.

  Phyllis nodded. “Thank you, this is most considerate. Please sit down. You’ve come at a good time. Ira’s been fed, and the doctors have been round. We’ve had a bit of excitement, some new activity started up in Ira’s brain. It started Friday and has been progressing.”

  “Does it mean he’s going to wake up?”

  “They’re not sure, the doctors, but it’s a change and with it comes renewed hope,” Phyllis said.

  “I hope he does come back to you. Can I ask you a question about Ira’s medical treatment?”

  “Sure.”

  “I noticed no ventilator…”

  “He has no trouble breathing or problem with any other automatic function. It’s as if he is sleeping. The doctors are baffled but insist that every case is different,” Albert interjected.

  Audrey walked up to the monitor and something niggled at her brain. It was just out of reach at the moment. She shook it off and walked over and sat down. “I came across your case when I was doing some research on Clinton Middle School,” she began. “I work for a team of investigators that, well to put it as vaguely as possible, deal with paranormal occurrences. Anything outside of normal. For example, Ira’s condition. I understand from our previous phone call that he had no physical problems leading up to this incident.”

  “None. He wasn’t as fit as an athlete, but he was average, in line with his peer group. Ira’s a thinker,” Albert said proudly. “He was in all the AP classes…”

  “Excuse me AP?” Audrey asked.

  “Advanced placement,” Albert supplied.

  “Thank you, I knew he was taking community college courses too. I’d say he was more than just a thinker, but a doer,” Audrey observed.

  “Yes,” Phyllis agreed.

  “Tell me about the days leading up to Ira’s fall in the hallway,” Audrey prompted.

  “Physical education is mandatory in middle school,” Albert informed her. “Clinton was particularly proud of having three state championship level sports teams. Ira didn’t participate as he knew his strengths were in academics. Some of the members of the track team were graduating, and there weren’t any new recruits available due to rezoning of the county. The coach approached Ira to see if he would be interested in track and field. He politely declined. That should have been it. But the coach insisted he take a standard test to see if Ira may have declined because he didn’t know what he was capable of. My son politely refused again.”

  “That should have been enough,” Phyllis added angrily.

  “But the coach threatened to fail Ira in gym unless he took the test. Ira’s been trying for an academic scholarship to attend a university in the summer sponsored by a Mensa group. He couldn’t meet the requirements with a failure on his record,” Albert explained. “I think the coach knew about it. I think he and the principal worked something out between them. Next thing Ira knows is, he’s to show up on a Saturday in gym attire and work out with the track team to prepare for his test the following week.”

  “Ira goes to class on Saturdays, and this particular Saturday there was a midterm exam, so he couldn’t go,” Phyllis told Audrey. “I drove to the school on Saturday and explained to the coach that he would not be able to attend.”

  “How did the coach take it?” Audrey asked

  “Calm on the exterior, but when I looked him in the eyes, I saw a vicious man looking back at me.”

  “What happened Monday?” Audrey
prompted.

  “Ira called me from school. Said he was taken out of his homeroom and had to go see the principal. The principal told him he was to receive a gym detention that afternoon for not showing up on Saturday. I told him I would call the school and explain that I showed up personally to explain it to the coach. I called the school, and the principal would not take my call. His secretary apologized and sympathized, but there was nothing she could do.”

  “So Ira stayed after school,” Audrey confirmed.

  “Yes, he didn’t come home after the time of his detention. I drove to the school and entered the building. It looked as if just the cleaning staff was there. I could hear them doing the floors on the second floor as I made my way to the gymnasium. I don’t know why I took an alternate route that day,” Phyllis mused, “but I turned right instead of going straight. I ended up in the back corridor, and that is where I found my son. He was face down…” Phyllis stopped as tears threatened. She waved her hand in front of her face a moment until she settled herself. “He was face down in the hall. I ran to him and found him breathing, but he wouldn’t wake up. I tried to call 911, but my cell phone wouldn’t work inside. I ran down the hall calling for help. No one could hear me above the drone of the floor buffers. I spotted a fire alarm and pulled it. Blue paint sprayed on me, but I didn’t give a damn. I ran back to my son to wait for help.”

  Phyllis stood up a moment, and her hands were clenched in anger. “When I got back, the coach was standing over my son. He was yelling at him. Berating him. Using foul language. ‘Get up you lazy Jew boy,’ was one of the milder phrases he used. I marched up to him and told him to call 911, that Ira was unconscious. I pressed record on my cell phone, and it picked up his next rant where he threatened my life. Blaming me for destroying his life, and Israel, of all places.”

  “Sounds like a nut job,” Audrey commented. “I’m sorry this happened.”