by Mark Lukens
Harold shook his head back and forth. This couldn’t be real. He wanted to rub his eyes, blink, he wanted to look away … but he didn’t.
His brother raised one of his thin arms and reached out towards him like he needed his hand in help.
The brush and weeds that hid his brother’s scrawny legs rustled around him like hundreds of small animals were rooting around in the vegetation. But then Harold realized that the vegetation itself was moving … it was growing and circling around his brother’s legs, vines and branches crawling up his body, sharp points at the ends of branches and vines piercing easily into his papery flesh, the vines wrapping tighter around him, pulling down on his body.
Yet his brother stood there as long as he could. His one arm was still extended; he was still reaching out to Harold … waiting with hopeless, dark-rimmed eyes that pleaded for help.
Harold wanted to help his brother, but he stood rooted to the ground.
“Harold!”
Harold snapped his head back around and saw Nick trudging through the grass and weeds towards him. Then he looked back at the corner of the manor, at the jungle that pressed up close to the back of the structure.
His brother wasn’t there anymore.
“You okay?” Nick asked.
Harold looked back at Nick and nodded, clearing his dry throat. “I … I thought I saw something in the woods.”
Nick just stared at him, waiting for him to expound.
“It was just an animal, I think,” Harold muttered.
Nick didn’t look like he believed him. “Well, what have you found so far?” he asked, changing the subject.
Harold nodded. “It’s there.”
Nick beamed and clapped Harold on the shoulder. “I knew it.”
“I just don’t know how to get to it,” Harold frowned.
“You leave that to me,” Nick said and turned away.
Harold watched Nick walk towards the front of the manor, and then he looked at the woods again to make sure no one was there watching him.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
While Nick was talking to Harold, Shane was on the other side of the manor. He had already walked the length of the front of the manor with the digital camera that he’d brought with him, snapping a few photos of the massive front porch with its gray Doric columns, wide floorboards, tall windows, and the balconies that dotted some of the upstairs windows and French doors. Then he worked his way towards the corner and the east side of the manor. The brush was thicker here than it was on the other side of the manor and the iron fence that circled the property ran through that brush thirty yards away from the exterior wall. The fencing was choked with shrub branches and vines in those woods. Shane had to enter the woods, pushing the branches and palm fronds out of the way, to get some better photos of this side of the manor from farther away.
He wanted to take as many photos as he could while he was here on the island. He wanted to document everything, jot down notes, and dictate into the handheld recorder he’d brought with him. If there was absolute evidence of the paranormal here, as Nick promised there was, then Shane wanted to document everything he could on his own. If this film turned out to be a hit, then Shane wanted to at least try to get a book deal out of it. He even fantasized about an internet show, or even a new TV show … but one step at a time.
A snapping of dry grass that sounded from the front corner of the manor startled Shane. He whirled around and saw Kristen standing at the corner.
“Sorry,” she said and smiled at him. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Shane smiled back at her as he walked out of the woods.
“I came out here to drink some coffee on the front porch and I saw you walking around over here.” She looked back the way she had come. “I like it a little better outside … I don’t like being inside that place.”
Shane just nodded.
Kristen looked up at the sky. Dark thunderstorm clouds were moving in fast from the east. After a flash of lightning, thunder rumbled from the other side of the island, the ground shaking. “It’s going to rain soon.”
“Yeah, we should probably get back inside,” Shane said. He looked at Kristen and she looked miserable at the thought of having to take refuge inside the Thornhill Manor from the rain.
Shane glanced up at the clouds for a moment and then he looked back at Kristen. “The boat captain said there was a bad storm coming soon.”
“The weather was supposed to be good,” Kristen told Shane. “I checked the weather reports for Nick before we came here.”
“That’s what I thought, too. But the boat captain seems to know the local weather better than the meteorologists do.”
Kristen just sighed.
“So you think this place is actually haunted, like Nick does?” Shane asked her. “The real deal?”
“Don’t you?”
He shrugged. “I like to keep an open mind, of course. But I also like to rely on evidence.”
“I think we’ve already seen enough evidence,” Kristen said. “The bowl of salt that turned black and flew across the room, the footsteps we all heard upstairs.” She practically shivered in the oppressive heat.
Shane nodded. “And all of the construction accidents that happened before we got here.” And seeing Old Lady Cranston for a moment at the bottom of the basement steps, he thought, but didn’t mention it. And he thought about the dream he’d had last night.
“Yeah,” Kristen said. “That too.”
Shane took a chance and questioned Kristen: “You don’t know anything about those accidents?”
She shook her head no. “Just what Nick has told us.”
“Yeah, I remember. One guy getting his finger cut off from a saw. Another guy falling down the stairs. Like I said before, it seems strange that a large group of guys got so scared that they left all of that equipment behind.”
“It was only some of their equipment,” Kristen said. “And to be fair, a lot of that equipment is actually Mr. Templeton’s so I don’t think some of those guys really cared about it.”
“It still seems strange,” Shane said.
Kristen nodded.
He watched her for a moment. She seemed like she wanted to say something, and then she blurted it out. “This place … it feels strange to me. I’m not claiming to be a psychic or anything, like Laura, but I’ve never felt anything like this before. This sense of dread. This sense of hopelessness.” She chuckled, but it was a forced and faked laugh. “Maybe it’s my imagination. I guess I’m just freaking out.”
Shane liked the way she looked when she laughed. She was really stunning in her own way, so professional and straight-laced when he’d first met her on his houseboat in the marina, but now he saw a different side of her, a vulnerable side, a human side.
“But I guess it’s no big deal to you,” Kristen went on. “You’ve been to a lot of places like this. I guess you’re used to it by now.”
“Not really,” Shane said. “I feel the same things that you just described. Ever since we got here, even on the way here, I felt exactly what you’re talking about, a dread and hopelessness. It seems like there’s this dark and evil aura around this place.”
Kristen glanced back at the huge structure behind them.
Shane realized that he wasn’t helping her with her fears of this place. “There are some places you never get used to, I guess.”
She turned and looked at him. “Like the Cranston House.”
Shane bristled.
“I’m sorry,” Kristen said and she looked shocked by her own words. “I didn’t mean to … to upset you.”
“No, it’s okay.” Shane smiled to show her that there were no hard feelings. “You’re right. This place reminds me a lot of the Cranston House.”
“That’s a comforting thought,” Kristen said and she barked out another one of her spontaneous brays of laughter that Shane found so appealing in a strange way. Her laughter seemed as uncontrollable to her as a sneeze would be.
&
nbsp; “It’s weird that we’re talking about the Cranston House,” Shane said. “Last night I had a dream that I was back there again.”
Kristen shifted her weight from one hiking boot to another, still pensive like there were other things she wanted to ask, other secrets she wanted to learn from Shane. “I read your book … and the articles and blog posts you’ve written. You don’t seem to go into a lot of detail about what happened in that house.”
Shane just stared at her. She was right about that … there was so much he’d never told anyone about that place, about what happened inside those rooms, about what happened to Mike. There was so much he couldn’t remember … or so much he didn’t want to let himself remember. But here on this island, here in the Thornhill Manor, he could feel those memories surfacing in his mind whether he wanted them to or not.
“There you are,” Nick said as he came around the corner of the manor, beaming at Kristen.
Shane and Kristen turned and looked at Nick. His smile slid away quickly, suddenly all business.
“I want us to take another tour of the manor soon,” Nick said. “But I want us to split up into three teams, each group with their own camera. I want all of us to document everything we see.”
Shane was going to try to dissuade Nick from splitting them up; he didn’t think it was a good idea. But it didn’t seem like Nick was going to be talked out of it this time. Shane wasn’t sure why, but it seemed to him like Nick was dead-set on getting them split up for some reason.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
After a lunch of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in their base of operations, they divided up into groups … groups that were selected by Nick.
Shane and Kristen were in one group. Warren, Nigel, and Harold were in another group, and Nick and Laura made up the last group. Billy was going to stay at the base of operations and monitor the laptops while each team explored a floor of the manor. Each team would have a camcorder and a walkie-talkie with them.
Shane was a little surprised that Kristen, Nick’s production assistant, was going with him instead of teaming up with Nick. It seemed rather obvious to Shane that Nick wanted Laura alone with him for some reason.
“Everybody ready?” Nick asked.
They all nodded.
“I want everyone filming the whole time. Just because you don’t see something with the naked eye doesn’t mean that you might not catch something on video or audio.” He looked at Shane. “Isn’t that right?”
“That’s correct,” he answered.
Nigel just sighed loudly—his form of protest, but at least he didn’t say anything sarcastic for once.
“Okay, I want you guys,” Nick pointed at Warren, Nigel, and Harold, “to take the third floor.”
He looked at Shane and Kristen. “I want you two to take the second floor. Laura and I will be down here on the ground floor. And we’ll also take the basement.”
Shane glanced at Kristen and he could see that she was relieved that they weren’t selected to explore the basement.
“Okay, let’s get going,” Nick boomed and clapped his hands together once with a loud slap. He smiled at all of them.
The two groups headed towards the foyer that led to the ballroom and the elaborate winding double stairway while Nick, Laura, and Billy waited behind.
Shane still couldn’t help feeling like he and the others were being sent away with busy work so Nick could be alone with Laura.
• • • • •
After the others were gone, Nick approached Laura who stood near her sleeping bag. She had a flashlight in her hand, ready for her exploration of the manor. “I hope you don’t mind,” Nick said, “but I just need to speak with Billy for a moment. Is there any way you could start in the kitchen and then I’ll catch up with you?”
“Sure,” she said, but he saw the fake smile on her face.
“Excellent,” Nick said and he handed her the camcorder. He already had it turned on and he showed her quickly how to use it even though Shane had showed her yesterday. “Basically just point it at whatever you want to film.”
“Sounds easy,” she said.
She can tell I’m hiding something, Nick thought. He found the idea intriguing and he would find out how much she really knew very soon.
Nick watched Laura walk towards the windows at the other end of the dining hall that allowed a murky light into the room from the overcast skies outside now that the drapes had been opened earlier.
After she entered the kitchen, Nick turned to Billy who waited in front of the tables with the laptops on them. He had a cup of coffee on the floor next to the tables, not wanting it on the table next to the computers. Both laptop screens were already showing footage from the cameras, one of the screens split into two live feeds.
“You remember what we talked about?” Nick asked Billy.
He nodded. “Sure.”
Of course Billy remembered. Of course Billy was going to complete his task. Nick had paid Jimmy Izzo part of the debt Billy owed and promised to pay the rest so Billy was going to do everything he was told to do.
Nick picked up his locked wooden box and set it on the edge of the table next to one of the laptops. He dug his keyring out of his pants pocket, found the tiny key that unlocked the padlock, and then opened the box.
Billy was right there beside him, watching in silence.
Inside the box was a ten foot length of thick chain, a sturdy gold padlock, and a nine millimeter pistol. Nick expected Billy to question him about the contents, but he remained silent.
Nick plucked the gun out of the wooden box and stuffed it down into the waistband of his pants; the handle was covered up by the tail of his Hawaiian shirt. He didn’t bother checking to see if the gun was loaded—that was for the movies. He knew the nine millimeter was already loaded with a full clip because he had made sure of it before locking it in the box.
He looked at Billy. “You remember what to do with the chain and lock, right?”
“Yeah.”
“I want you to get this done while we’re all exploring the manor.”
“Got it.” Billy seemed like he wanted to say something else, but he kept quiet.
Nick clapped Billy on his shoulder. “You’re a good man, Billy. That’s why I brought you here with us.”
Billy just nodded. He looked a little concerned about what he was being asked to do, but Nick didn’t care. He had other things to worry about, like getting to the kitchen with Laura. He wanted to head down to the basement as soon as possible.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
The Third Floor
Warren walked with Nigel and Harold down the wide dark hallway of the third floor. Nigel led the way with a flashlight. Harold had volunteered to operate the camcorder; he had it up to his eye as he walked and the light from the camera helped a little in the gloomy hallway and rooms.
“I’ve been wondering,” Nigel said as they walked along.
Warren knew Nigel was addressing him and couldn’t help taking the bait. “Wondering about what?”
“I was wondering how someone like you could go along with all of this?”
“What do you mean?” Warren asked.
“Well, as you know, I did a little background search on everyone while we were in the airport lounge. You’re a physicist with published papers. You’ve published several books. Even had your own PBS special.”
“So, what you’re asking me is why I’m throwing my career away to chase ghosts in an abandoned building on some remote island.”
“Well said,” Nigel said and grinned at Warren. “Why are you doing this to yourself?”
The conversation back at the University of Texas with Professor Heinz flashed through Warren’s mind for a moment as they stopped walking. He felt Harold watching him with the camera in his peripheral vision, the camera’s eye steady on them. “Because I believe in this.”
Nigel smirked and shook his head slowly. “How can you believe in crap like this?” He gestured at the hall
way all around them.
“Crap like what?” Warren asked. “Ghosts? Spirits?”
“Yes,” Nigel answered. “Ghosts and spirits, and what they supposedly prove—that there’s an afterlife. A god watching over all of us, controlling all of this.”
“God?” Warren asked. He was a little surprised that Nigel had brought religion into this.
“Yes, God,” Nigel answered. “I’m sure you’ve guessed that I’m an atheist. And I find the idea of a god ridiculous. God is just a crutch people use to comfort themselves, to believe that their lives are significant, that they have some kind of purpose and all of this isn’t some random blip in the universe.”
Warren smiled. He’d had this conversation many times with other professors at the University of Texas, many of whom shared the same views as Nigel. They almost seemed angry that Warren could be so stupid and gullible to believe in something as naïve as God and the afterlife.
Warren began the defense of his beliefs the same way he’d begun all the other conversations with all of those other professors: “How can you not believe in God?”
“Excuse me?” Nigel asked, his face pinched like he’d just tasted something sour.
“How can you not believe in a supreme being?” Warren said. “How can you not believe in a grand design to the universe? How can you not believe in God? In an afterlife. Science has proven that energy is neither created nor destroyed—it just changes forms. The same amount of energy that was here billions of years ago is still here with us today, only it’s changed into different forms many, many times.”