by Rick Kueber
Hilary had managed to muster up strength that I did not have. With an energizing whir and a 'k-snick, k-snick, k-snick' the hallway filled with sound and flashing light of Hilary's camera. My flashlight flickered back on slowly, as if it had to warm up to full brightness and the corridor was suddenly barren once again. The immediate change in temperature from what must have been below zero to above forty, felt like a very welcome heat wave. I turned to face Hilary and could see the frosty ice crystals, like snowflakes on her eyelashes, melting into a steamy vapor.
“What the hell just happened?” I posed the question. I had experienced random cold spots, and my team and I had our meetings with the fiery spirit of Ashley Sue, but this was a whole new paranormal experience, unlike anything we had even heard of.
“You tell me... I feel like a flippin’ popsicle!” Her teeth chattered as she spoke. Hilary's shaking hands raised her camera and pressed the review button. I could see the beaded moisture, like dew, glistening on her Cannon X-1 camera. I watched as she pulled up the last photo taken. It was nothing but a blur of dull, earth-tone colors through the moisture on the lens. The previous picture was more blurred around the edges, but the center was a kaleidoscope, filled with the same colors, but more defined. With the electronic 'ting' of the scroll button, the third picture (actually the first one taken) filled the screen.
“Doesn't look like I had much luck.” Hilary said with disappointment. “This one is nothing but colors through the frost on the lens.”
“The way I see it Hil, we were about to be human icicles, and your quick thinking may have saved us from who knows what! I think that's pretty lucky.” I tried to be encouraging while I began to move my feet that were no longer frozen to the floor.
“Okay...true... but what does it mean? Why did these spirits decide to gang up on us in the east wing? I have been here a dozen times and this is the first time I've ever been ganged up on and nearly frozen to death. I mean, seriously... what's that all about?” Hilary's voice was troubled and confused.
“It's a mystery to me too. I think we need to keep exploring this level and see if there is anything here that we aren't supposed to find.” I said as I handed Hilary the mel-meter and retrieved a small, top spiral bound, pocket notebook and pen from my interior jacket pocket. I jotted down notes in an orderly time-line of detailed and broken sentences and a quick sketch of the third floor with an 'x' marking where we stood and a circle around the area where we saw the shadows.
Our investigation of the area became intensified. We no longer felt that it was a good idea to separate and entered the first room in the corridor. Just to the right of where we stood was the open door. The room was a basic fifteen foot square, mostly empty. There were two windows with only a few unbroken panes in the wall opposite of the door. In front of the windows were hundreds of shards of broken glass, and in the corners to the right were a scattered disarray of papers and broken bits of history. I scoured through the scraps of paper searching for any clue while Hilary shot video footage and countless still photographs. I found nothing of any legibility or significance.
As we wandered from the first room to the next one across the hall, Hilary spoke. “I wonder if Mike and Theo have had anything happen. They have been awfully quiet down there.”
“Yes, they have.” I began to wonder if they were okay, considering what we had just been through. “Do you think one of these shadow people we saw was your 'friend' Maddie?”
“Hard to say for sure, but I doubt it. She seems like a very introverted soul. I expect when and if we find her, she will be alone and hiding.” Hilary looked down the hall. “Poor woman. From what I have found, she lived a tortured life, misunderstood and abandoned.”
The second room was much like the first in this wing, mostly devoid, but we searched it anyway and came up empty handed once again. The next doorway was where we believe the ominous blackness had emerged from. Without a spoken word, we approached the door with intimidation. Although it was not closed tight, nearly two inches ajar, the door was stuck firmly. The door was hinged on the right hand side and would have opened inward, if I could have moved it. I leaned against it with all of my weight, but it did not budge. I held my light up to the opening and peered in. There was a dresser and a bookshelf that still held a few moldy and grungy books in its spaces.
“Is this a 'patient' room, or an inmate apartment?” I asked. “This wing was for patients. The west wing's upper two floors were for 'inmate apartments', the second floor was for more intensive care, and the first floor of the west wing was where the inmates who were considered dangerous, or a threat to themselves or anyone else were housed, it's also where the 'paupers room' was located.” Hilary had done her homework and knew the infirmary better than anyone else alive.
“Okay, then who do you think could have been in this room?” I queried, not sure if there were an answer that was more than just a guess.
“This wing was more for elderly folks and those who were either bed ridden or confined to wheelchairs...stuff like that. Every floor of this wing had one room designated for a full time professional. A nurse, psychiatrist, or some medical professional would have had a room here that they would sometimes even sleep in if they needed to. It's hard to say which room it was, but this room could have been a patient or professional room.” Hilary thought, racking her brain for more details she had learned and possibly forgotten.
“So, the pro room... would anyone else have used the room?” I was asking, but mostly thinking out loud. “No one was supposed to have access to those rooms because they would keep some medical supplies, confidential files and information in them, but back when this place thrived. I'm sure there were plenty of orderlies with less than desirable reputations.” Hilary backed away from the door, glancing around the east wing as she spoke. “Something doesn't feel right.”
“Maybe that means we are on to something, huh?” I grinned at her, but her expression was as blank as an empty chalkboard. Every thought and emotion, except for possibly fear, had been swiftly erased.
With my flashlight shining into the room and lightening the chest of drawers, I leaned against the door once more. My cheek pressed firm against the cold grain of the wooden door when my eye was met by another. A very pale and hollow eye, a terrifyingly angry brow, and a harrowing sliver of a male face startled me, only inches from my own. With a scream of “Holy Crap!” I jumped backwards, almost landing directly on Hilary. With a side step, she had managed to avoid being bowled over.
“What!? What's wrong?” She screeched excitedly, a mix of thrill and fear of the unknown. “Did you see something?” “Yeah... I … I think so...” My words were shaky and escaped between the exasperation of trying to catch my breath. “Someone, or something is in that room. We have to get in there.”
“Maybe Mike can help.” Hilary thought out loud. “Yeah... maybe..” I said, but what I was thinking was that I wasn't able to budge the door, and I didn't think Mike would have any better luck.
“So, do we just wait here for them to show up, or abandon our watch and go get them?” I wasn't sure what to do. All I knew was that I wanted in that room, as soon as possible.
“MIKE!” Hilary called out, but said nothing else. I was about to make myself 'comfortable' (if that was even possible) by sitting on the floor and facing the curious door and the potentially occupied room, when we began to hear a faint sound.
“Footsteps?” I whispered the question and Hilary nodded in reply. She looked to the intersection of the corridors out of the corner of her eye. Her eyes widened and her head slowly turned towards the corner as she slowly raised her camera. I hid the light of my flashlight by pressing the lens against my jacket, but not turning it off. Avoiding the clicking sound of actually turning the light off and allowing it to be ready to reveal whatever came around the corner, I waited. The moments passed so slowly that it felt as if time had nearly crawled to a stop. Nearly silent footsteps that had been nearly indistinguishable now sounded like slow m
otion horse hooves trotting down a paved lane. It became evident that we were hearing multiple footsteps. The growing anticipation, perhaps, raised the hairs on my neck. The stepping sounds grew more audible and closer. It was as if I could feel Hilary's discomfort with the situation. In my head, I visualized the location of the sounds, and I knew something was about to confront us...once again.
The faintest of shadow movement appeared before us, not shadow entities like we so recently had seen, but a slight darkening on the floor at the corner intersection of the corridor. I sucked in my breath and Hilary began snapping numerous photos. The camera's repeated flash gave the area the sinister feel of an approaching villain from a silent movie. With great expectation of the horror we were about to face, we steadied ourselves as Mike and Theo rounded the corner.
“What the heck is going on here?” Theo asked, searching for the reason behind our unnerved behavior.
“We didn't know what was about to come around the corner, and well...we were preparing for the worst.” I answered. “Didn't you call me? I could have sworn I heard you call out 'Mike” or was that something else?” Mike began to question what else could have called out his name.
“It was me that called your name.” Hilary said. “I didn't know if you could hear me, but we didn't want to leave this spot.” “Really?” Theo asked. “Did you guys have an experience here?”
Hilary looked over to me and as frightening as our 'experiences' had been, we both grinned. We went into a long, drawn out and detailed account of what had happened. The tale passed back and forth between Hilary and I, and we tossed details into each other’s accounts and even finished the other’s sentences when we felt we needed to elaborate on certain aspects of the phenomenon. Though there were moments that I am sure the accuracy of our story was questioned, in the end, we were all on the same page as to what our next move needed to be.
I finished my tale with “...and so, that door must be opened.” Mike and Theo approached the door and pressed against it in turn, neither budging it in the slightest. Having the brightest light, Mike shone it through the crack, and as he did I cringed, recalling the ghastly face that I had been confronted with. No apparition appeared, which made me feel at ease, but also caused me to wonder if our story was losing credibility with Mike (being the most skeptical of our foursome).
“It's stuck tight.” I stated the obvious. “We need leverage.” Mike thought for a moment. “I think I have an idea. Wait here, I'll be right back.” And with that, he turned away and disappeared around the corner from where he and Theo had come.
“Soooo... I guess we wait.” Theo said trying to lighten our mood. While we awaited his return, the three of us spoke about the incidents that had brought us to this room, and explored what mysterious revelations, if any, might be hidden within this room. Several minutes passed before we heard Mike's steps returning up the main stairwell and through the corridor. When he rounded the intersection, he carried a thick walled metal pipe, nearly two inches in diameter and seven or more feet in length.
“This will get us in there.” He paused. “I think.”
“It should.” I agreed. My background in science had taught me that with proper placement and force, leverage could move mountains. “Let's get to it then.”
Mike handed his light to Hilary, and I handed mine to Theo. The pipe was wedged into the open crevasse and while Mike pulled at the pipe from the left, hallway side, I pushed from the right, door-jamb side. It moaned, groaned and did not give even the slightest. We paused briefly and I thought. Raising a finger in the air, I alerted Mike to give me a second to reposition the pipe. Once in place, I instructed him to place his foot against the wall and pull with everything he had. I could hear and feel Mike straining with all of his might as I pushed from the opposite side. The force was greater, but still not enough.
“Keep pulling!” I instructed Mike. I backed off a few steps and with a burst of adrenaline, I lunged at the door, throwing myself against it. With a loud bang the door broke free and flung open fully. Mike fell backward with the old pipe and landed flat on his butt, squarely in the middle of the hall. The old infirmary let out an echoing shudder. Dust trickled down from the ceiling above and filled the air. Before us lay the secret room; a ghoulish prison of mystery and intrigue. I had half expected this 'face to face' fiend from my earlier encounter to come flying, floating, or rushing out to confront us in anger and fury. There was no apparitional appearance; no blood curdling scream. All was quite normal, and for Hilary and I, it was the furthest thing from our expectations.
Theo and I cautiously entered the room and began searching and investigating the defunct space. Though there were a few scattered papers, a chair, and a broken down old bed my attention was captivated by the chest of drawers that remained intact.
“I think the dresser may hold some importance, but I don't know if it is in the contents, or its energy.” Theo remarked. “I know what you mean. I saw it through the crack, and even if I hadn't had any paranormal experience here, I still would have had to get this door open, just to check it out.” I agreed with him, but had to ask a question that was a conundrum to me. I have never considered myself psychic in any way, or even sensitive, but there are moments when something strikes me a certain way, brings out some specific emotion, and I constantly question if it is my brain tricking me by bringing up bits of old memories, or if I am actually feeling an energy or embedded emotion or tragedy associated with the 'thing' in question. Scientifically, I understand that the mixture of many elements such as smell, time of day/night, combined something from a movie or book, can give us all specific feelings about a place, object or experience, even if it seems to be something new to us. visual perception, texture, and with memories, whether they many other elements
are personal or simple “It's not the old broken bed or even the face that I saw in this room, but something about it just gives me a very bad vibe. Is it just me, or are you picking up on anything?” I felt awkward about even asking, but as a scientific researcher I knew that the best way to understand something is to ask as many questions as possible and formulate a theory.
“Well...” Theo started slowly. “I was going to say that I feel a lot of negative energy in this room, but I don't feel a presence here anymore. What I am feeling could be residual energy from the entity you saw here earlier.” He paused and I scrunched my eyebrows at him, though I knew he could not see me in the dark that surrounded us. “I would have normally waited to say anything, but yes... how do I put this... I feel drawn to the chest and I don't feel real negative energy from it. It's more like I am being persuaded to explore it, rather than drawn to it by the energy of the chest. Now, that being said... there is a lot of anger, humiliation, and pain associated with this bed. The amount of 'bad vibes', as you called it, is overwhelming. It makes me very uncomfortable and not only do I not want to touch it, I don't even want to go near it.”
“I understand pal. If you will hold the light on it, I'd like to take a closer look at it.” Without another word, Theo poised the light so that its dim beam illuminated the nearest side of the bed. As I approached it, I began picking up the scattered papers on the floor and sorted them neatly, just another hint of my OCD coming to light in this dark and dismal place. With each paper I retrieved from the floor, I unfolded any edges and tried to choose the front side to put 'face up' as I began collecting.
The bed frame was iron tube, and not particularly interesting… definitely a standard type for this facility. The mattress was so old, stained and dry-rotted, that I doubt it held any real clues, but I couldn't help but notice the tears in the fabric went in several directions and radiated from near the center. I found this quite odd and interesting enough to take note of. Curiosity had the best of me and I pulled my flashlight from my pocket. Tuning it on, I laid it on the floor directed at the bed and with one hand on the floor and one under the mattress, raised the grungy and tattered piece up, pressing my cheek against the grit and filth of the hardw
ood floor, to inspect the underside. Much to my amazement, the bottom side was very much intact, though still aged and weather stained.
A scratching and scurrying sound appeared in such close proximity to my face, that I dropped the mattress and lunged backwards onto my butt. I felt the color leaving my face, though it quickly returned in an overabundance when Theo and I both saw a field mouse dart from under the bed and flee to its next 'not so safe' haven under the old chest of drawers. When I regained my dignity, Theo and I both had a bit of a chuckle.
“What's so funny?” Hilary's voice echoed from the corridor, and I was almost too embarrassed to admit I had been more frightened by a mouse than being eyeball to ghastly eyeball with a displaced soul.
“A very small 'entity' rushed at me from under the bed, and we just kinda thought it was funny.” I didn't exactly lie. A mouse is an 'entity' by definition.
“I was terrified! It was a small four legged furry entity with a long hairless tail.” Theo clarified the situation, which drew an “OH GAWD!” from Hilary and what I believe was intentionally excessive laughter from Mike.
“Well Theo, the chest is all we have left to explore, and the mouse ran under it.” I spoke through the intermittent laughter and snickers from Mike and Hilary. “Do you want me to hold the light on this one?”
“Naw, I've got it, you just make sure I can see in the drawers and show me whatever you find. I feel like there is going to be something significant in the bottom drawer.” He motioned with the flashlight circling its beam around the face of the lowest drawer.