A Haunting In Wisconsin

by Michael Richan

  “So where is he?” Eliza asked. “If his body isn’t under that gravestone, where is it?”

  “Where did he live, before he died?”

  Eliza stopped pacing and turned to Daniel. “Hold that thought!” She raced upstairs to her bedroom. She opened a drawer in her desk and pulled several packets out, then ran back downstairs to Daniel.

  “This is all the documentation Don gave us,” Eliza said, opening them and spreading the contents on the table. “The info on Horace; it’s in here somewhere.”

  Daniel closed his laptop and moved it off the table, then began to help her look through the documents.

  “Here’s the cemetery info,” she said, showing him a page. “Maybe there’s…” She dug through adjoining pages, and stopped when she saw one that looked promising. She read it quickly, and when finished, lowered the paper and showed him.

  “The property Horace lived on was never sold after he died,” she said, pointing to the document. “It was inherited.”

  “By who?” Daniel asked.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Eliza replied. “The point is, it stayed under his control.”

  “You have an address?” Daniel asked.

  Eliza turned the paper around. “Right here. This town isn’t far from the B&B.” She looked up at Daniel. “I have three days off after tomorrow.”

  “Want me to come with you?” Daniel offered. “I’ve worked straight for weeks now. I know Matt will let me take a few days off it I want.”

  “Sure,” she said, smiling. “That gives us a day to come up with a new bag.”

  “A new bag?” Daniel asked.

  “If we happen to find that kaleidoscope,” Eliza said, “I intend to take it from him. And to do that safely, it needs to be in a bag that will conceal it, like the original bag.”

  “Which you said is now gone?” Daniel asked.

  “Unfortunately, yes,” Eliza replied. “Gone with Robert.”

  “I’ll see what I can whip up tomorrow,” Daniel replied.

  Eliza looked back down at the paper. “So, we’ll leave tomorrow night, after our shifts. I’ll call Milton to see if he can put us up. He said it was an open invitation.”

  ●

  They arrived near midnight. Instead of leaving a note with a key, Milton was up, waiting for them. “You both look tired,” he said. “Sorry, the only open room with two beds is upstairs. You wanted two beds, right?”

  “Yes,” Eliza replied. “And I’m glad the place is nearly full. Look at all the cars out there!” She gestured to the parking lot.

  “It’s only gotten better since you left,” Milton replied. “Back up to what I was expecting.”

  “Milton, this is Daniel,” she said, and waited while they shook hands. “He’s going to be helping me while we work.”

  “I want to hear all about it,” Milton said, reaching for Eliza’s suitcase. “But for now, let’s get you two settled, and we can talk in the morning over breakfast.”

  Milton led them down the hallway, up the staircase, and to the room. He opened it for them, then passed the key to Eliza. “Good night. See you in the morning.”

  “Thank you, Milton,” Eliza replied, and Milton shut the door. She looked around the room.

  “It’s nice,” Daniel said. “And I’m glad we’re in the same room. Makes it easier to talk.”

  Eliza initially had mixed feelings about sharing a room with Daniel. Their relationship had been developing slowly, unlike how things had gone with Robert. They were nowhere near intimacy yet, but she could tell that Daniel wanted things to head in that direction. Sharing a room would send the right signal, while having two beds would also send a message about where she currently stood.

  “So, it all happened here?” Daniel asked, lying on his bed. “The little girl, the other ghosts. Martha, in the wall. The smells.”

  “Yup,” Eliza replied. “All of it. We went to sleep, and met all of the ghosts. And when you tried to drop into the River, it was tilted and nauseating.”

  “Seems perfectly normal, now,” Daniel said. “I don’t detect a thing.”

  “Let’s hope it stays that way,” Eliza said, heading to the bathroom. “I’m taking a quick shower before bed.”

  He nodded, and she disappeared inside. When she reemerged twenty minutes later, Daniel was already asleep on one of the beds, gently snoring.

  She slipped into bed and turned off the light. For a moment, as she closed her eyes, she hoped she might run into Abbey and Teresa, Ivan and Mack.

  Just to say hi, she thought.

  ●

  After a quick breakfast with Milton, they drove to the address in Don’s paperwork. It was located a mile inside deep forest.

  Mid-morning light streaked through the trees as Eliza pulled off the main road and onto a short driveway. They were soon blocked by a chained gate with a large sign that read ‘No Trespassing - Violators Will Be Shot’. She stopped the car and they got out.

  “There’s the house, in the distance,” Daniel said, pointing through the trees. “Looks like no one’s taking care of the property.”

  “Let’s check it out,” she said, quickly climbing over the gate.

  Daniel followed her. “You’re not afraid of getting shot?”

  “No,” Eliza replied, landing on the ground. “That’s what everyone puts on their signs around here.”

  They walked toward the house. It was a double-story mansion, set deep within the trees. Frost grape vines had grown over bushes and shrubs, choking them out, obscuring much of the view of the ground floor. Windows were boarded over.

  They walked to the front and up the wooden steps of the porch, taking care not to slip through the rotting wood under their feet. The door was still in place, with a dirty, plastic “No Trespassing” sign attached by nails.

  Eliza reached for the door; the handle was locked. She dropped to her knees and pulled a small lockpick kit from her back pocket. “This’ll only take a minute,” she said.

  “You can pick locks?” Daniel asked.

  “Yup,” she replied. “This one’s easy.”

  She twisted the handle and stood. It turned, but the door wouldn’t open. “It’s not the lock,” she said. “It’s been barricaded from the inside.”

  “Then we’ll just have to find another way in,” Daniel said, and they left the front porch. They circled the building, looking for a weakness to the old house’s security.

  Daniel tried the boards on a few of the windows; they held firm. “We can always come back with a crowbar,” he said.

  “I have one in the trunk if it comes to it,” she replied.

  In the back they found a small window that was positioned higher than most. Eliza saw that the boards covering it looked loose, but had probably been ignored by trespassers due to the window’s height.

  “Can you boost me up?” she asked Daniel, pointing to the window.

  He knelt and interlaced his fingers. Eliza placed her foot in his hands, and he lifted while rising. It placed her within arm’s reach of the window. She tugged on the boards, and the bottom one fell to the ground.

  “Success!” she said, reaching for the board above it, which was much easier to dislodge now that its neighbor had been removed. Soon she had the window completely cleared of wood, and pulled herself up to looked inside.

  It was a small room, maybe a closet. The glass was still intact, but the wood holding it in place was rotten. She tugged at the latch at the top, and the window fell open toward her, a chain halting its fall after six inches. She pulled on the chain and it snapped; this allowed her to lower the window all the way, and it hung down against the side of the house.

  “Any chance you can push higher?” she asked, looking down. “I need a couple more feet to get through.”

  “I’ll try,” Daniel replied. She expected him to struggle to raise her, but was surprised when she found herself launched upward. She dove into the window and grabbed at the interior, pulling herself through, falling to the floor be
low.

  “You OK?” he called.

  “Yes,” she replied. “I’ll find a way to let you in.”

  She raised herself from the floor and looked around. It was indeed a closet, with built-in shelving. The paper lining the shelves was peeling up, revealing smooth painted boards underneath. Cobwebs hung in every corner, and she coughed as her movement stirred up dust.

  She walked out of the closet and into a kitchen. Appliances had been removed, but she could see faint images on the walls marking where the refrigerator and stove must have stood, and the outlines where pictures had previously hung.

  There was a door in the back of the kitchen that seemed positioned to open to the outside. She walked to it, and saw that hundreds of nails had been used to seal it shut.

  That’s not going to work, she thought, and turned to find the front door.

  Working her way through the house, she tried not to look around too much and get distracted before she found a way to get Daniel inside. She did have the presence of mind to notice that each room was empty — no furniture, nothing on the floors or the walls.

  When she reached the front door, she saw that the attempt to keep it permanently closed was even more extensive than the kitchen door; in addition to hundreds of nails, there were boards placed over the frame. She grabbed at one of them, but it didn’t bulge. She noticed screw heads; long wood screws had been used to attach the boards — they weren’t going to come off easily.

  She shifted to windows, hoping that one of them might hold a weakness like the one she’d used to get in. Each window she found was boarded over on the inside as well, and more wood screws had been used to do it. Each window seemed the same. Whoever sealed up the house, she thought, did a pretty thorough job of it.

  She walked back to the closet. “Daniel? You there?”

  “Yes,” she heard from outside.

  “The doors are sealed up tight, and so are the windows,” she replied. “Any chance you could find something to boost yourself? This window might be the only way in.”

  “I’ll look for something,” he replied, and she waited, not wanting to explore the house until Daniel was inside. She didn’t have to wait long before his hands landed inside the window, and he pulled himself through. “A rusty wheelbarrow,” he said as he landed on the floor. Eliza helped him up.

  “If we had a heavy-duty screwdriver,” she said, “we could probably get some of the boards off the windows. It’s impossible by hand.”

  “Well, if we come back, we’ll bring one,” he said. “Lead on. Let’s see if he’s here.”

  Even with the mid-morning sun, the house seemed dark, thanks to the state of the windows. They found nothing upstairs, but a dark closet in a ground-floor bedroom had a heavy, musty curtain hanging over its back wall. Eliza pulled back the curtain, and there was a door.

  “Bingo,” she said. She felt the door; it was metal.

  “No kicking that down,” Daniel said.

  She tried the handle; it held firm in her hand, locked. Once again she knelt, trying to work her lockpicking tools. “Can you shine a light for me?” she asked, and Daniel held the curtain out of the way using one hand while shining a flashlight with the other.

  Eliza worked at the lock for a while. “This one’s much tougher,” she said, cocking her head to listen for sounds as she moved the instruments. She engaged a technique that Aceveda had taught her, by dropping into the River and observing the lock from a different angle. It allowed her to strategize an alternative approach to the lock, and when she dropped out, she twisted the tools differently, hoping to trip the tumblers inside. There was a clicking sound, and her tools fell from the hole, unsuccessful.

  “Damn,” she said. “This one is really tough.”

  “I’m just glad you have an idea of what to do,” Daniel said. “This door looks completely impenetrable. That lock is the only way in.”

  She worked at the lock again, trying different angles. Twice she changed tools, using progressively complex techniques, but it still resisted her efforts. This lock had been untouched for many years, she thought, feeling the unique resistance of the tumblers. But it’s been opened just recently. Her tool slipped in the lock.

  She pulled the instruments from it and took a deep breath. OK, she thought. You’re getting distracted and frustrated. Take a deep breath, and come at it like Aceveda taught you — calmly, rationally. It’s just an imperfect device. All devices can be conquered.

  She slipped the tools back into the lock. This time she closed her eyes and let the instruments send her signals; slight resistance, a sudden give. It was like threading a metal pole through a box of hammers without touching any of them; one wrong move and the entire effort would have to be started again.

  When she heard the final click, she let go her lungs, and realized she hadn’t taken a breath in a while. She felt light headed.

  “Is that it?” Daniel asked. “I heard something. Is it open?”

  “Try it,” she said, stepping back. Daniel grabbed the door’s handle and twisted; it opened, and he pulled.

  Damp air rushed out. Wooden stairs led down.

  “A cellar,” Daniel said, shining the flashlight into the darkness. “He’s down there, isn’t he?”

  “Probably,” Eliza replied, placing her tools back into the lockpicking kit. “You ready for this?”

  “Absolutely,” Daniel replied. They descended the steps.

  Daniel’s flashlight danced over the ground as their feet hit cement. It was a large, open room, with no windows or doors. The walls appeared to be made of metal; it was a small fortress, impenetrable except through the lock Eliza had just maneuvered.

  Daniel pointed his flashlight into the darkness of the room, and they walked slowly, their senses on high alert. A long, thin box lay on the ground ahead of them; a casket.

  Daniel stopped, pointing the light down, and Eliza reached to open it. Inside was musty cloth.

  “A prop,” she said. “This is what I saw him in when I tranced at the graveyard.”

  Daniel pointed the light deeper into the room. In the distance was an elevated cement surface, round and almost twelve feet in diameter, raised two feet from the ground. It was empty except for one spot, where a blanket covered a lump.

  They approached it slowly. Eliza saw an arm sticking out above the top of the blanket, reaching toward something in the middle of the circle.

  “Is that him?” Daniel asked, climbing onto the surface and stepping closer with the light. They looked down at the covered body.

  “What’s he…” Eliza asked, looking at the arm. Clenched in the hand was the kaleidoscope. The bottom end had been inserted into a recession in the rock. A series of other recessions appeared to the left and right of it, forming a circle. He’s not reaching for something, she thought. He’s holding it in place.

  Daniel slid the blanket down. The man underneath was covered with a fine netting, as though he’d been thinly wrapped in spider webs. Eliza saw little drops of moisture running along the threads of the netting. She leaned closer and observed as a drop hit the flesh of the man. It changed from a liquid, sprouting tiny appendages, and began to burrow into the man’s skin.

  She stepped back as she realized there were hundreds of the drops running over the strands of the netting, all morphing into small creatures.

  “Is it him?” Daniel asked again, shining the light on the man’s face.

  Eliza looked. It was familiar, but the man she’d seen in the trance was gaunt and weathered. Old. This man in front of her was younger, bigger, stronger. “It kinda looks like him,” she replied. “But he’s changing. Fleshing out. When I saw him, he was a frail corpse.”

  “Remember the French woman?” Daniel asked. “She said we could still stop it…after you told her it had been nine weeks. She must have meant this; he’s transforming into something.”

  “Or maybe he’s restoring himself to what he used to be.”

  Eliza looked again at the kaleidoscope, gra
sped firmly in Horace’s hand. The skin of the man’s arm was taught and firm, as muscles that had long ago withered now revitalized. She reached for the kaleidoscope, leaning over the body; there was about two inches of it sticking out of the man’s fist. She grabbed it and gave it a gentle tug.

  A moan escaped the man’s lips, and froth began to bubble out. She saw the small creatures swarming in the spittle, attempting to crawl back into the man’s mouth. She pulled on the kaleidoscope again, but the man’s fist held it firm.

  “Damn it,” she muttered. “Now that he’s got it back, he’s not letting it go.”

  “I wonder what happens after this process completes,” Daniel said, looking down at the netting.

  “I don’t want to find out,” she replied, then spoke resolutely: “We’re going to stop this. He’s not going to win, whatever he’s trying to do.”

  “How?” Daniel asked. “Axe to the head?”

  “As satisfying as that sounds,” Eliza replied, “I don’t think it’ll take care of all these little bugs crawling around in him. They need to go, too. We need a way to kill him completely, and wipe out everything. Maybe burn him.”

  “Flamethrower?” Daniel asked.

  “Flamethrower?” Eliza repeated. “I was thinking gasoline and a match. Where would we get a flamethrower?”

  “All I need is a can of aerosol and a lighter,” Daniel replied.

  “Really?” Eliza asked. “That’s it?”

  “Trust me, I’ve made them before.”

  “Alright,” she replied, looking down at the man’s face. “But we need to hurry. Whatever process he’s going through, he’s looking pretty complete. I’d hate for him to wake up before we can fry him.”