by E. C. Bell
“Yeah.”
“What happened to her?”
“Same thing that happened to Rafferty in my room,” I said shortly. “Just let me talk to my dad and I can stop it.”
I expected her to tell me to go to hell at the very least, but she didn’t. She gestured around the desk. “You got five minutes.”
“Thank you,” I said and scurried around beside her. I dialled Jasmine’s number and waited for what felt like hours as it rang. Where were they?
“What time is it?” I asked.
“It’s seven,” she replied. “I should have been on my way home four hours ago.”
Jasmine should be home. Maybe they were hanging with James. I decided to let it ring until voicemail picked up, just in case she was down in the basement or something. “Why are you still here?”
“Melodie asked me to stick around for a while. She had some errands to run, or something.” She frowned. “Four hours for errands, while all this craziness is going on? I won’t be doing this again.”
“I don’t blame you,” I said. I listened to another ring. I figured I had two more before I hit voicemail and had to come up with a different plan.
“Actually, I think she’s just freaked out,” Willoughby continued. “You know, what happened in your room—and then to Dr. Parkerson.”
I snorted. “Maybe she’s afraid they’ll come after her,” I said, and then decided what the hell. Willoughby deserved to know the truth. “I think Melodie’s been killing patients. And I’m pretty sure some of the ghosts hanging around here are here because of her.”
“What?” she gasped. “You’re kidding. Right?”
“You saw the video,” I said. “That was a ghost looking for revenge. So no, I’m not kidding.”
Then someone picked up Jasmine’s phone, finally, so I turned away from Willoughby. I could feel her eyes boring into my back, but I didn’t care. She could think what she wanted. I was telling the truth.
Luckily, it was Dad who answered the phone.
“I was downstairs,” he said. “Having a little nap. What game are you playing now, Marie?”
“What do you mean?” My stomach knotted. The last thing in the world I needed right then was to have a fight with my father.
“Why didn’t you come home?” he asked. “James is some pissed, I have to tell you.”
“I imagine,” I said. Felt my throat tighten, but I had to ignore that, too. I had to get information, to stop the carnage. I just had to.
“I’ll explain everything when I get out of here,” I said. “But Dad, I need some help.”
“With what?” he asked. His voice still sounded clipped, which meant James wasn’t the only one who was pissed at me. I’ll make it up to you, Dad, I thought. Promise.
“With a ghost,” I said.
“You know I can’t help you with one of those,” he said.
“But you were there. You listened to Mom move them on for years,” I said. “Years, before you left. You must’ve heard her talk about what to do with a poltergeist. I can’t remember ever seeing one around our place, so she must’ve had something she did—Dad, they’re everywhere, here. And they’re teaching each other. I’m in real trouble. Anything you might know could help. Please.”
“Did you say poltergeist?” Dad said. His voice had gone flat, as though my words had shocked him almost to death. “Oh girl, please tell me you’re not dealing with one of them.”
“I am,” I said. I felt a small ray of hope. Dad knew something. All he had to do was tell me, and I could finally fix what was wrong in this horrible place.
“My God, girl,” he breathed. “Get out of there as quick as you can. There’s nothing you can do for one of those. They grab the world of the living, and they won’t let go. It happened to your mother once, and it almost cost you your life.”
“I’ve been dreaming of a demon,” I breathed.
“There was never a demon,” he said. “That was the poltergeist. A man who’d been murdered, and who was set on revenge. He made a deal with your mother. ‘Help me find the man who killed me,’ he said to her, ‘and I’ll help you figure out how others have died, and what they need to move on.’ He was charismatic, that one, and your mother was quite taken with him. I didn’t like him being around you all so much, but your mother figured I was jealous, or something.”
“Mom never made a deal with a ghost in her life,” I said. “That was against her code.”
“I know it was,” he said. “And that ghost is the reason why. She found the man who murdered him—and the poltergeist killed him. And then, he wouldn’t move on. Nothing your mother could do would convince him to leave. The last time she tried, he attacked you. Said he was going to kill you, because your mother wasn’t doing right by him.”
His story reminded me so much of my nightmare, gooseflesh formed on my arms.
“There was another ghost hanging around the house at that time,” Dad said. “A boy, just a boy, and you used to play with him. He wasn’t ready to move on, your mother said, so she let you do it. I guess she thought you’d learn to interact with him, and then with the rest of them.
“That little boy was the one who stepped in and stopped the poltergeist. Somehow. And then—”
“What happened, Dad?”
“The poltergeist went to hell,” Dad whispered. “And he took the boy with him. Your mother couldn’t stop either of them. She was devastated, and that was when she stopped working with poltergeists at all.”
“Why don’t I remember any of this?”
“You were so young,” he said. “After it was over, we—we didn’t talk about it. Eventually, you forgot.”
There was a short silence, while we both tried to collect our thoughts.
“I always thought that was why you never wanted to—be like her,” he finally said. “That you remembered enough to know that it was dangerous.”
“Well, I didn’t,” I said. My lips were dry, and I licked them. “So, what you’re saying is, Mom didn’t have any control over the poltergeist. It was another ghost—”
“Who stopped him. Yeah. If you got a poltergeist there, leave. For your own safety.”
“I can’t do that, Dad,” I said, and then hung up.
I was the one who let the situation go this far. I had to stop it, somehow.
“Thanks,” I said to Willoughby. She frowned.
“Are you all right?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “That call. It wasn’t good news.”
In fact, it was terrible news. My mother hadn’t worked with poltergeists because she was afraid of them. And the only way she’d found to deal with them was to use another ghost. And I knew how using ghosts worked out. Bad. Bad for them, and bad for me.
“Can I help?” Willoughby asked.
“Only if you can figure out a way to make a ghost stop attacking people,” I sighed.
“You really can see ghosts, can’t you?” she asked.
I nodded. Small victories weren’t much help, but I’d take what I could get.
“I’ll talk to Dr. Parkerson again,” she said. “Make her watch that video. It should convince her. Shouldn’t it?”
“I don’t think it will help,” I said. “If being attacked by a ghost doesn’t convince her, I don’t know what will. And she isn’t really my biggest problem, right now. But thanks. I appreciate the support.”
She stared at me. “Do you really think that Melodie’s been hurting patients?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I think so.”
“I always thought there was something wrong about her,” she mumbled. “She smiles all the damned time.” Then she shook her head and looked at me. “If there’s anything I can help you with, just let me know. Anything at all.”
I didn’t think there was anything she could do to help me, but it was nice knowing I finally had someone in my corner. But she was living.
Apparently, I needed a ghost.
Jasper:
Finding Nurse Melodie a
nd her Little Pink Pills
I WANDERED AROUND the grounds, looking for Nurse Melodie. I was pretty sure she was hiding somewhere, because I’d seen her car in the parking lot, but people out on the grounds were throwing their colour around, muddying things for me. Once I was away from them though, I could finally see colour in the air that did not belong to anyone else. It looked like a contrail from a jet. Mostly yellow, but some red. Anger and fear.
I followed it to its epicentre. The old greenhouse. It had been abandoned years before, and most of the glass had been broken and removed. A temporary fence had been erected around it to keep patients out. Just one end of the building remained more or less intact. This was where the colour trail was coming from.
There were plants growing everywhere in the intact end of the building. They didn’t look wild, like seeds had blown in and germinated on their own. They looked like they’d been planted.
Nurse Melodie was working at one of the rough, wooden worktables, smashing pink capsules, one at a time, and sweeping them into an old rusty pail. It was half filled with oily looking water, and a couple of the capsules floated on the top. But most of them obediently sank.
She kept pulling down the mask she was wearing so she could look around, like she expected to be found out at any moment Then she pulled it back on so she could go to work.
She was getting rid of evidence, and it looked like she was almost done. I needed one of those capsules, which meant I had to stop her, even momentarily. Distract her. Somehow.
At the doorway of the greenhouse was a small pile of rocks. Some large, and some fist-sized. The same size rocks Phillipa had practiced carrying. The same size I’d managed to pick up. Maybe that would do.
I concentrated, and then lifted, grunting with the effort. I hadn’t gotten all my power back since Phillipa’s forced workout at Building One, and I hoped I’d be able to throw the thing with enough force to take her attention away from the pills. Stared at one of the few intact windows, and then threw the stone as hard as I could.
The effect was immediate and spectacular. When the stone hit the glass, the glass exploded into the building, spraying Nurse Melodie with splinters. She screamed, and when she threw her hands up to protect her face, I flew to her side and grabbed one of the capsules lying in front of her on the weather-beaten table.
Honestly, it felt like it weighed as much as the rock I’d just thrown, but I managed to run away from her with it, before she recovered. I could see her examining the broken glass, and looking all around her, and figured she’d be gone before I even got the pill to Marie. But that didn’t matter. All that mattered was getting that capsule to her without it being seen by either staff or patients.
That was actually harder than it should have been. The capsule was small. Tiny, really. If I’d been alive, I could have easily hidden it in the palm of my hand, but I was not alive, and I knew how it would look. Like a pink capsule free floating in the air.
So, I made like a spy, sneaking around where I knew the staff and patients wouldn’t be. Made it into Building Thirteen, and only had to get down the hall to Marie’s room. I even had a plan for getting it inside. I’d stuff it under the door, then go in and let her know that I’d done something good, something that would actually help people out for once—but as I was daydreaming the scenario, one of the patients snuck up behind me, and caught me.
Well, it was the capsule he saw, floating three feet above the floor.
“Holy crap!” he cried. “Look at that. Look at that! Everybody! Look at that! I told you I could see ghosts, and now one of them is carrying meds around. Look!”
It was Otto, the schizophrenic. He had hallucinations fairly regularly, so I hoped no one would bother checking on him before I’d gotten the capsule under Marie’s door.
A couple of the patients came out of their rooms and watched, open mouthed, as I hurried to Marie’s room with Otto scrambling behind me like a big dog. But no staff. Yet.
Otto kept grabbing at the capsule, and I had to run to keep it out of his hands. Running while holding on to that damned capsule drained my batteries quickly, and I stumbled just as I reached her door. The capsule jumped from my fingers and dropped to the floor. I gasped and fell to my knees so I could pick it up again.
So did Otto. And he was faster.
“Five second rule applies!” he yelled, and then he popped the capsule in his mouth and crunched it between his teeth. He grimaced when the powder hit his mouth and spat what was left of the capsule on the floor.
“Tastes like shit,” he said. “Ghost, you don’t want that. Get gum. It tastes much much better.”
Then, he wandered off. I didn’t watch which way he was going though, I was too busy bursting through Marie’s door, screaming that she needed to help Otto.
“Otto took one of Nurse Melodie’s pills!” I cried.
She stared at me. I was pretty sure she’d been thinking about yelling at me for leaving her room against her express orders, but my arrival had given her something else to think about.
“How?” she asked. “Did Melodie give it to him?”
“No,” I said. “No, it was me.” I sobbed, then pulled myself together. “I found Melodie out at the greenhouse, and I got one of the pills for you. So you’d have proof. But I dropped it—and he ate it.”
“Jesus,” she breathed.
“You have to save him.”
She threw open her door and ran into the hall. “Where’s Otto?” she yelled. “Has anyone seen Otto?”
“He’s gone to afternoon group,” one of the patients said. “He wants to tell them about the ghost he saw.”
Marie didn’t respond. Just pelted down the hallway to afternoon group, to try to save Otto’s life.
Marie:
Otto and Phillipa
JASPER AND I burst into the room just as everyone was sitting down. Otto was at the far side of the circle, in his usual spot, and he waved at me, then looked shocked when I ran at him and grabbed him by the lapels of his housecoat.
“You gotta come with me, Otto,” I said. “Now.”
“But, but group,” he protested. He pushed at my hands, but I grabbed harder, and pulled him from his seat. The rest of the patients gasped, and a couple of them stood and ran from the room, their chairs hitting the floor with hollow plastic and metal bangs.
“Wait a moment,” Dr. Erickson snapped. “Everyone sit down. I’ll handle this. Marie, this is afternoon group. You are in morning group. Remember?”
“I know,” I gasped, “but Otto—”
“Leave Otto alone,” Erickson said. “He’s allowed to be here. Let him go.”
“No,” I said, and jerked Otto into the centre of the circle. “Otto, you took a pill,” I said. “And it’s going to make you sick.”
Otto blinked, and then smiled. “The pink one,” he said. “That the ghost gave me.”
“That’s right,” I said. “It was a bad pill,” I said. “A very bad pill. You have to go to get your stomach pumped.”
I heard chairs moving behind me and figured Erickson was going to try to stop me. I turned just as he grabbed me and knocked his hand away.
“He’s in trouble,” I said, frantically. “He has to go with me, right now.”
“He is not going anywhere but back to his seat,” Erickson said. “And if you don’t calm down, you’ll get some quiet time. Is that what you want?”
“Let her stay,” Otto said. “I want to tell her about the ghost.”
“There are no ghosts,” Erickson snapped. “You know that, Otto.” He glared at me. “See what you’ve done?”
“He’s going to die,” I said, and turned back to Otto. “You don’t want to die, do you? Like Natalie?”
“Oh, she didn’t die,” Otto said. “I found out. She just got moved to the Royal Alex. She needed an operation, isn’t that right?” He spoke past me to Dr. Erickson. “Isn’t that right?”
Erickson looked peeved. “We shouldn’t talk about this in group,” he said
.
“But Natalie—”
“Passed away,” Erickson said. There was a collective gasp, then Otto frowned.
“Oh,” he said. He looked confused and touched his chest. “Something’s wrong.” He looked at me. “I think you’re right. I need some help.”
He winced, and then grabbed his chest with both hands and fell to his knees. “Help me,” he whispered. Before I could move, he fell onto his face and spasmed.
“My God,” Erickson gasped, and pushed me out of the way. Grabbed Otto and flipped him onto his back. Placed his ear to Otto’s chest, then leaped up. “Do you know CPR?” he asked me.
“Yes,” I said.
“Then do it,” he said, and ran to the intercom on the wall by the door. “I got a Code Blue here!” he cried. “Code Blue!”
I worked on Otto until Erickson pushed me out of the way again. Then I watched as Erickson worked on him. But even before I started, I knew that we were too late. Otto was dead.
I heard a howl and looked up. Jasper was by the door. He’d stopped there when we’d come in and had fallen to his knees with his hands over his face.
“I killed him!” he cried. “I can’t do anything right!”
“This isn’t your fault,” I said tiredly.
“It is,” he said. “You don’t understand. I thought that all you needed was one of those pills. If I’d stopped Nurse Melodie instead of doing what I did, Otto would still be alive.”
“Did you see Nurse Melodie?” I asked. He nodded. “Where?”
“She’s at the greenhouse. Or she was.” He looked down at Otto’s dead face and wailed. “I can’t do anything right. I—I need Franklin.” And then, he disappeared.
“Of course, this is not my fault,” Erickson said. “Or Nurse Melodie’s.” He sounded like he was coming unglued. “And no one can say it is. He—he just died. You can’t blame me for that.”
Before I could lose it on him, two orderlies rushed in with a crash cart. They worked on Otto, but they were far too late. He was gone.
Nurse Willoughby ran into the room and took control. “Get your patients out of here,” she said to Erickson.