The Supernaturals

by David L. Golemon

  “Oh, look, Detective Jackson looks downright sad that we’re leaving him,” Julie said, nodding her head toward the small motel across the street.

  Kennedy saw Damian Jackson standing in the shadows near the ice machine, watching their car turn for the road out of Bright Waters.

  “You know the look of a lion when he’s surrounded by a pack of hyenas?” Julie asked.

  “If I recall, you and he were business acquaintances.”

  Julie looked over at Kennedy with a curious slant to her features. “Professor, just because we were non-believers, never made us allies. I particularly don’t like that man. As for you,” she raised her voice just a little, making him glance toward her, “you seem to be just as unforgiving. Have you ever tried to consider my point of view, or Jackson’s? No, it’s always your point of view, because the rest of us don’t have a Harvard-educated slant on the paranormal, so our perspectives don’t count. To let you in on a little secret, Professor Kennedy, I have done my research and over seventy-five percent of all Americans believe in some form of activity, paranormal or scientific. I went into your investigation seven years ago with my eyes wide open. I never do anything half-assed. Give both of us—Jackson included—a break. He sees the fucked up side of things in his line of work. He’s a skeptic, but all he’s saying is that he knows it doesn’t take a ghost to be evil. Maybe he knows that over ten percent of all people in the world are insane. As for me...” She looked away. “Nothing fucking surprises me anymore. But I do know when to admit that I need to reexamine something, and maybe Summer Place, for one reason or another, needs to have its doors opened again.”

  Kennedy was silent as he steered the car out of town. Then he smiled.

  “What did you say to that reporter from Philadelphia?”

  The question caught Julie by surprise. She shook her head.

  “You thought I would steal her crew and make a report using her field team and not apologize for it? If you must know, I told her I liked the way she and her news crew made it to Bright Waters so fast after the fact, and that I will see what I can do about getting her some light work out of New York, you know, weekend stuff. That should help her.”

  “But you’ve never seen her work, is that right?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Isn’t that a leap of faith on your part?”

  “Oh, so it boils down to you analyzing me about my conclusions seven years ago?” she asked angrily.

  Gabriel spared her a look and laughed. “No, it just shows me that you’re capable of not being a bitch all the time.”

  Julie raised her eyebrows, and then she laughed.

  As the car moved down the small road leading down the mountain, Kennedy didn’t see the black shroud as it moved along behind them. It vanished into the tree line to the left, heading for the large bend in the road three miles away.

  Summer Place was reaching out.

  The limousine was quiet as Kelly Delaphoy worked on her laptop. She had thus far ignored the hateful looks from Lionel Peterson, who was sitting across from her. Abe Feuerstein sat sipping a drink, watching Kelly work. It was as if the old CEO was studying her.

  “What do you think about placing your team on site a day early?”

  Kelly looked up from her computer, the light from the monitor casting her face in a wash of colors and shadow. Feuerstein took another swallow of his drink.

  “I mean, if we’re on the property, the state police would find it that much harder to have us removed if they were so inclined, wouldn’t you agree, Lionel?”

  Peterson looked from Kelly to his boss, sitting next to him. “That raises more concerns on expense for the show. Having the entire production crew onsite is an expense not budgeted for. Lodging, tent rental, commissary, and the overtime, all of that would run us over an already extended budget,” Peterson looked at Kelly. “Plus, with the police now so interested, it may not be wise to rock the boat at this juncture.”

  Feuerstein smiled and placed his crystal glass in a small holder on the wet bar in front of him.

  “I see your concern on the budget. I have spoken to marketing and sales and they say we can push the envelope just a little further.”

  “The contract with Lindemann only covers one night in the house; I would anticipate him throwing a fit about the added—”

  “That’s enough about Lindemann and quite enough about budget concerns, Lionel.” The CEO looked out of the darkened widows as the limo pulled into the underground parking garage at UBC. “You are not just the president of programming for this show, you are also its producer. And let me put it another way and make this absolutely clear, Lionel: your job is on the line, so you better damn well get on board. Kelly here deserves the benefit of the doubt, at least to this point.”

  “So, you’re a believer in this crap, too?” Peterson asked.

  “Believer? No, I’m not. The scariest thing in the world to me is our stockholders, Lionel; they should be the scariest things in the world to you, also. They believe in their quarterly reports, and that’s all they believe in. Now, inform the legal department that since Kelly was not present at the murder scene, I don’t want her disturbed as long as she’s in New York. They can have at her on the thirtieth when she arrives in Pennsylvania.”

  As the limo came to a stop, Feuerstein looked at Peterson and waited for a confirmation of his orders, which the president of entertainment finally gave by a quick nod of his head.

  “Good.” The CEO reached for the door handle when the driver failed to open it for him. Another employee he would have to straighten out.

  Kelly closed her laptop and started gathering her bags. She watched the CEO pull on the handle twice, then a third time. He reached for the lock on the door and pulled up on it, but it slipped through his fingers. Feuerstein angrily slammed his hand down on the intercom to the driver’s compartment.

  “Unlock the goddamn door!”

  The slim locks popped up, down, up and then down again in a rapid movement that made them all flinch.

  Peterson reached over and used the electric lock mechanism to pop the door locks, but the same rapid movement repeated. “What the hell is going on?” Lionel leaned over near Kelly and slammed his palm against the glass partition. “Open the fucking door, you moron!”

  Kelly flinched at the loudness of Peterson’s voice. She half turned in her seat. Through the glass, she saw the driver’s shadow sitting motionlessly. Then without preamble the car’s interior temperature dropped by about thirty degrees, frosting all the glass.

  “What kind of fucking idiots do you employ here?” He slammed his hand on the glass, then repeated the move again. This time it was answered by the large black limousine rocking hard to the right, and then the left. Kelly grabbed for the seatbelt that she hadn’t bothered to use. Feuerstein lowered his hands to the seat, bracing himself against the violent rocking.

  “Jesus Christ!” Peterson screamed. He was thrown against his door just as the glass partition cracked. The break zigzagged downward and disappeared into the seat frame.

  The glass broke free, showering them with tinted shards, and the radio came on. The electronic numbers scaled up and then down, far faster that the radio was capable of. Soon they started catching words from different stations. Although they had to be random, they came through as a full sentence.

  “…they are mine….they are mine….they are mine….they are mine….”

  “What the fuck?” Peterson said. The rocking of the car increased.

  Kelly closed her eyes, praying for the assault on the car to stop. The radio volume increased, lowered, and then increased again, enough so the all three put their hands over their ears.

  “Mine….mine….mine….mine….THEY ARE MINE!!!”

  Suddenly everything stopped. Then the door next to Feuerstein opened and he was helped from the car. Peterson slid over and followed the CEO. Then Kelly slapped the laptop from her lap and got out as fast as she could. All three stood shaking and looki
ng at the now normal limousine.

  “Why the hell didn’t you unlock the fucking doors?” Peterson advanced on the driver, who was looking around as if he were lost.

  “What? I just did.”

  All three of them looked at the driver as if he had lost his mind.

  “Was there a problem?” the driver asked, noticing the terror in their faces.

  It was Kelly who started laughing first. The CEO turned and started for the elevator. Peterson watched them both as if they had truly lost their minds.

  “What the fuck are you laughing about?” he asked as Kelly reached into the car to gather her things.

  “I’m laughing at the fucking look on your face.” Kelly stepped up to Peterson, looking at him closely. “Suddenly just about anything is possible, isn’t it?”

  “Why, because we have a bad driver and a malfunctioning car? That just falls in line with every other aspect of this fucked up special.” Peterson reached into the limo for the crystal cut decanter of whiskey and uncorked it.

  “Keep thinking that way, Lionel, but you know and I know that house is building power. It’s starting to reach out to everyone involved.”

  Peterson watched Kelly hurry to catch up with the old man. He took a quick swallow of the whiskey, and then he looked over at the driver, who still looked totally lost and confused. Peterson offered him the bottle. The driver looked taken aback, but then he accepted the offer.

  “Yeah, what the fuck’s the difference? You may be working here long after my ass is fired.”

  Peterson accepted the bottle back from the driver and took another long pull from the crystal decanter. Then he kicked the limousine, startling the man next to him.

  “Yeah, they may be yours, you motherfucker, but this,” he splashed whiskey onto the limo, and then showed off the decanter, “is mine… MINE!”

  The Waldorf Astoria

  New York City

  Jason Sanborn, George Cordero and John Lonetree stood at the door and watched Leonard Sickles pace back and forth in his long white boxer shorts and t-shirt. His baseball cap was turned sideways on his head.

  “You woke me up to tell me Professor Gabe wants me to break into state death records and the Lindemann historical society? I thought you dudes were going out into the world to get this information tomorrow. What do you need me for?”

  “John thinks the house is trying to separate us and attack us piecemeal,” Jason said. He placed his pipe in his mouth and then rolled his eyes at Lonetree.

  Leonard stopped in his tracks and turned to the three men at the door.

  “What do you mean, attack? Are you serious?”

  “Look, kid, Gabriel wants you to do this; so can you do it and still complete your other electronic work, or not?” Lonetree said.

  The look on Leonard’s face changed. He turned and grabbed a robe. They had been joined by Jenny Tilden, who stood next to George Cordero.

  “Sorry, I didn’t feel like being alone in my room,” she said. She looked much better than she had earlier in the evening.

  “I’m sure we all quite understand, my dear,” Sanborn offered. He wished he could light his pipe.

  “Damn man, doesn’t anyone sleep around here?” Leonard asked as he came back to the door, tying off the hotel bathrobe. “Yeah, I can do both jobs,” he said. “I can farm out the computer theft through a friend of mine in LA. But if he gets caught, it’s going to cost someone a lot of money.”

  “Ten thousand dollars for the information we need,” Sanborn said, sucking on his empty pipe.

  “Excuse me, but can we discuss this inside the room? It’s getting cold out here,” Jennifer said, crossing her thin arms over her chest. At the moment, the hallway lights and the room lights started flickering.

  “She’s right. Did someone leave open a window or something?” Sanborn looked around the empty hallway.

  Lonetree and Leonard saw it first—a large transparent shadow that closed in behind Jenny and Sanborn. It seemed to rise up through the expensive carpet. John tried to react as the hallway lights dimmed, but he and the other men were pushed forward into the room and the door slammed, closing them inside. Whatever it was had completely sealed them off from Jennifer, who was still outside in the hallway. John tried desperately to disentangle himself from the three other men. Leonard was on the bottom of the fallen pile, screaming for everyone to get off.

  Outside Jennifer screamed and a loud thump smashed into the closed door. Then the door rattled as Jenny tried to turn the handle. She started pounding and slapping at the wood.

  “Get off. It’s out there with her!” Lonetree screamed. He literally lifted Cordero and Sanborn off of him and dashed for the door on his hands and knees. The room was warm, but when John touched the wooden door he felt the extreme cold emanating from the hallway. Jenny was crying and still slapping her hand against the door. Then she screamed again and the pounding and slapping stopped.

  “What the fuck is happening?” Leonard shouted. He finally gained his feet and ran for the door to help Lonetree.

  John managed to pull the door partway open, but whatever was on the far side pulled it closed again. Leonard threw his own minimal weight into the battle and this time the door opened a foot. A large, black hand made of mist reached inside and pulled the door closed with a hard slam. Both men screamed and fell back, wide-eyed.

  “Goddamn it, help us!” Lonetree shouted to Cordero and Sanborn.

  Outside they heard Jennifer scream and then heard a choking sound. The men grabbed for the door again.

  “No, no, no…” John was saying over and over as they cracked the door once more. This time, with all of their strength, they had it almost all the way open. None dared to remove their hands while they had the advantage. A flood of freezing air rushed through the opening.

  “Jenny, can you get inside?” John yelled.

  Jennifer Tilden’s arm snaked in through the doorway. Leonard freed one of his hands and grabbed for it. He was slapped back by an invisible force that knocked him against the bed, and the small black man somersaulted against the wall. George watched, stunned, but he quickly recovered and took Leonard’s place. He reached out and pulled as hard as he could. He was hit by an electrical discharge that made his eyes widen and his body shake, but his strength had proved the difference. Jennifer tumbled through the opening and a moment later the men lost control of the door. It slammed shut and bodies went flying. As Jennifer rolled over, holding her throat, she saw the door frost over. It started bending inward, cracking the material as the thing on the other side pushed.

  “Jesus!” John stood and slammed his large body against the bulging door. Once his weight seemed to be doing the job, the room started to warm up. Just as they thought their visitor was done, ten loud blows sounded against the wood of the door. The blows were struck so hard that John Lonetree’s head was thrust forward with every strike. Then the room fell silent and the lights stopped flickering.

  “It’s gone,” George said from his knees. “Fuck me, it’s gone.” He reached out for Jenny. “You okay?” When she reached out to take George’s hand, he flinched away as if afraid to touch her. Jennifer didn’t notice the strange look on Cordero’s face. She shook her head, while holding her throat, and tried to sit up.

  Leonard sat heavily on the edge of the bed. “This is one bad motherfucker. Look at that,” he said, pointing at the door.

  It was cracked from top to bottom, straight down the middle.

  “I thought ghosts couldn’t form that kind of power,” Sanborn said. His pipe was hanging upside down in his mouth.

  John turned away from the door and went to Jenny’s side. He looked back at the large crack.

  “We’re dealing with more than your ordinary ghost. We have something here that can reach out and crush the life right out of you.”

  Sanborn reached out and touched the crack in the door.

  “Just as Professor Kennedy has said all along.”

  “I don’t know about the r
est of you, but I can’t do this,” George Cordero said. He watched the door warily, as if he expected the entity to start up again.

  “You promised Gabriel you would see it through,” Lonetree said.

  “I didn’t promise to stay here and die, and that’s exactly what will happen if we stay.” He looked pointedly at Jenny.

  “What do you know that you’re not telling us? What did you perceive when that thing was at the door?” Lonetree persisted.

  Cordero went to the desk chair and sat down hard. He placed his hands over his face and then slowly looked up.

  “I had the distinct feeling, when we were holding that door open, that this thing was just playing with us. It was enjoying it, because deep down it likes scaring people, because it’s not afraid of us. It’s showing off. And we propose to walk right into its lair and try and kill it?”

  “Yes, that’s exactly what we are going to do,” Lonetree said as he looked from face to face. “And I think you’re wrong. At the end of that encounter, it was angry. We beat it by sticking together and fighting it together.”

  “It’s waiting for us in that house, John, do you understand?” Cordero said. He lowered his head. He couldn’t look at the others any longer, especially Jenny.

  “Yeah, well if that motherfucker wants me, it better bring a lunch for the long night ahead, because Too Smart Sickles don’t run from nothin’,” Leonard said with as much bravado as he could muster.

  “That’s what I mean, you stupid little bastard. We’re the lunch.”

  That quieted Leonard’s bravado. George stood and looked at the others.

  “I’m sorry. Tell Gabe I just couldn’t do it.” He reached into his jacket pocket and tossed the envelope that held UBC’s check onto the nightstand. He held Jenny’s gaze as he left the room, not even hesitating at the cracked and broken door.