She wondered if there might be one in the common room. Could be. But wasn’t that where the workers waited out the night until “third shift” arrived? That’s what Lynn had said. Then again, how trustworthy was anything Lynn said? But if Lynn was wrong--or lying--as Mandy knew she was, then there would be a third shift, anytime, in fact. And that would mean they most likely did wait out the night in the common room. But if Lynn was telling the truth--and Mandy knew she wasn’t--then . . . where would they be?
Ok, she would go to the common room. She would be quiet. She would listen or peek inside. If she saw them, she’d just come back. She sure as hell didn’t want to see or talk to any of them, not even something as simple as asking where is the phone book. But if they weren’t there, she’d go inside and look around.
Her footsteps, although quiet, seemed to echo off the walls. She hit an unexpected cold spot and it took her breath away and Mandy hurried further down the hall away from it.
“Fucking ghosts!” she whispered. “Just get me the fuck out of here!”
The very thought that Mandy had wound up here as punishment was idiotic. She’d never done anything to hurt a single person in her entire life. If anything, she’d been fucked over a lot more than she could ever do to anyone else. She was a loyal friend--until those friends fucked her over, which seemed to be a theme in her life, she thought--and when she was in a relationship with someone, Mandy devoted her whole self to it and to that person. She would still be with Sam if he hadn’t started that final argument and stormed out. Okay, she didn’t get along so great with her mother, but who would; the woman was a critical hag for whom nothing was ever good enough.
Mandy’d never stolen anything, she didn’t lie to people. She’d never even had a speeding ticket.
So the idea that her being here was because she deserved to be here, obviously Lynn had the wrong person.
She got to the closed common room door and stopped outside, put her ear to it and listened. The wood was cool against her face. She wanted to be home in bed, with her face buried in her pillow, just on the edge of sleep. Exhaustion weighed on her like a wet blanket.
She didn’t hear anything from inside. She looked at the bottom of the door, trying to see if there was any light coming from inside, but it looked dark. That is, it looked dark until she cracked open the door and the music and lights spilled out. The shock made her jump back, lose her grip on the door, which swung open to reveal what looked an awful lot like a school dance going on inside.
Mandy stepped back and looked at the spectacle for a moment before she regained her senses and tried to reach out, shut the door again and leave. But before she could grip the handle, a hand shot out of the darkness and snatched her wrist. Mandy shrieked and tried to pull back but the hand was locked tight on her arm. A body followed it out and she saw it was Jane, smiling and holding a red plastic cup.
“There you are,” she said. “We wondered if you were ever going to show. Come on, it’s just getting started.”
“What?” Mandy muttered, but she found herself being drawn into the room. The lights were down but colored party lights strung about the room gave enough illumination to see and Mandy couldn’t believe the people here. These were the kids she had spent the evening with, she recognized every one of their faces, even if she still didn’t know all of their names, and she wondered what is everyone doing here? She’d just seen Lynn check on them ten minutes ago.
My God, this place is driving me crazy, she thought.
Music blared from speakers set up around the room, and when she took a good look around, she thought the room actually looked bigger than it had earlier. Maybe it was because the middle of the floor wasn’t lined with folding chairs for the movie, but, no, it really did look a lot bigger. She couldn’t even be sure this was the same room.
Jane was guiding her across the room to a small crowd of three kids who stood talking and holding their own red plastic cups. She saw various little groups of kids standing around talking.
She didn’t recognize the song playing, but it was full of bass and several kids were dancing badly to it.
“This is Mandy,” Jane was saying to the kids she’d brought Mandy over to. “She’s new.”
“Pleased to meet you,” one of the kids, a boy, said, holding out his hand. Mandy shook it and was startled at the firm grip this kid had.
“We hope you have a good time during your stay,” another boy said. He had short blonde hair and glasses, but his voice boomed deep and loud. Mandy shook his hand, but so far she hadn’t said a word. She wasn’t sure what to say because right now it seemed nothing that could possibly come out of her mouth was going to be the least bit sensible.
Finally the third kid held out her hand and Mandy recognized her. She was one of Lynn’s girls, Mandy had said goodnight to her earlier. She couldn’t remember the name, though. Heather? Haley? Helen? Something like that.
“Good to meet you,” the girl said and Mandy shook, her expression still a blank slate of confusion, but she did manage to say, “We’ve met.”
She watched the kids standing around, talking and laughing. She spotted Bea over by the wall, with a couple of boys and Bea had her hand on one’s shoulder and was laughing hysterically.
“Now I know something’s wrong,” Mandy mumbled.
She thought about going back to ask Jane if there was a phone book somewhere, but what she wanted even more right now was to get the hell away from this noise and insanity.
She tried to look around the room and find one, but it was like everything from before had been taken out to make room for this party. She didn’t see the couches, the TV was gone. In fact, she thought, the windows looked different, too. She didn’t remember them being arched like that.
She felt lost in the sea of strange people and an image flashed back to her; that gymnasium earlier with its litter of mangled body parts.
God, she hoped that hadn’t been a premonition foretelling something that was going to happen in here. This wasn’t a gym, though, she reminded herself. It couldn’t have been a vision, because it’s not in the same room.
Now find the door and get the hell out of here. Almost as if reading her thoughts, she noticed a girl by the wall waving her over. Mandy looked around to make sure she was the object of the girl’s attention. She didn’t recognize her.
She looked back and the girl was nodding and smiling, waving her closer.
Mandy navigated through the people, half expecting the girl to turn into some huge lumbering beast the closer she got, but the girl just kept smiling (and that made Mandy pretty uncomfortable too, she had to admit) finally taking her by the arm once she’d reached her. The girl led her toward the corner opposite where Mandy had come in, and she leaned in and said in Mandy’s ear, “Take this door. Follow the hall till you get to the room, there’s a common phone down there. It’s the boys’ side, but they’re all in here so you won’t be bothered. The phone sits on top of the phone book.”
Mandy looked at her, stunned, but she nodded and said, “Um, ok. Thanks. Bye.”
The girl held out her hand. “I hope you find what you’re looking for. And remember to stay off that third floor at night.”
The girl winked at her, then turned her by the shoulders and pushed her toward the door. She was in the hall and the door closed behind her, shutting off the lights and music. She put her ear to the door again, but it must be a soundproof room, because she was getting nothing. She cracked the door again, but this time the common room was empty and dark.
“What the fuck,” she whispered, terrified of disturbing the peace.
She closed the door again and turned toward the hallway. This place is nothing but hallways, she thought. And this one was very confined.
She could touch both walls at once, and the ceiling was very low, almost like this section had been added on later. She passed under three doorways that had no doors attached, nor could she see any reason there would be doorways other than they marked where
the hallway took a turn, first to the left, then one to the right and another to the left before she came to a small room lined with shelves containing books, board games, videotapes and a few DVDs. This room had a small beige couch with worn cushions and a big blue chair in one corner with a side table next to it.
Now where’s the phone?
She felt watched, and she knew she didn’t belong in this part of the Home. She expected Chuck, Ryan or Daniel to come in any second yelling at her to get back to her own side of the building. And what would she tell them?
Sorry, I needed to use the phone to call a cab. See, the parking lot’s gone and Lynn says I’m stuck here forever because I did something bad but I know I didn’t, and I just really need to get a ride out of here, but I can’t call my ex boyfriend because he’s not talking to me, and my best friend, well, I’m pretty sure she’s busy fucking my ex right now, so I can’t expect a ride from her, either. I was gonna wait for third shift to arrive, but according to Lynn there is no third shift and no one else is coming, so, can you help a sistah out?
That would go over well, she thought.
Then she spotted the phone, on the bookshelf next to the blue chair, one of those big old black models. It had buttons instead of a rotary dial, which she guessed was a step up, but just barely. Did this thing even still work?
She sat in the chair and pulled the phone book out from under it. She looked at the cover. It had the year right, so that was good. She flipped it open and thumbed through until she found the listings for cab companies. She picked the first ad that boasted 24-hour service then picked up the handset on the phone and punched in the number.
She put it to her ear, but instead of a ring, she got a voice in her ear.
“Hello?” It was a man’s voice. “Hello? Who’s on the phone?”
She pulled it away and looked at it for a second, as if she expected to see a face staring up at her from it. She put it back to her ear and listened, trying to figure out if the cab company had answered that quickly or what.
“Who’s on the phone?” the voice asked again.
Shit, she thought, and put the phone in the cradle with a DING.
She took out her own phone--no missed calls or texts--and added the cab company’s number to her contacts, then put the phone book back and pocketed the phone again.
She got up and headed for the door she’d come in from, then decided she wasn’t sure she wanted to go that way. It led back to the common room and that place had been tainted now. She didn’t want to find another party going on, but then again she didn’t want to find the place deserted, either. Both options gave her chills up her back and she shivered and rubbed her arms as if fighting off the cold.
She could go out into the boys’ side. Surely this wasn’t the only access from one side of the building to the other, and if someone appeared and asked what she was doing on this side, she’d just say she got lost.
The thought crossed her mind, maybe she would find another way out of the building, but the last time she did that, it hadn’t worked out too well.
The voice on the phone had startled her, but maybe if she found one of the men, they could let her use the phone or tell her where there was another one on a separate line.
She turned the knob and was about to pull the door open very quietly when a creak behind her made her stop and look back, then her heart stopped and she had to fight to hold in a scream when she saw a body hanging from the ceiling. The rope extended up into nothing, but the body was very clear.
She had no idea who he was, and his eyes were closed, dead, while his skin was blackened and dried, like beef jerky. The rope made the most awful creaking noise.
She turned away, opened the door and nearly leapt from the room, pulling it shut behind her.
She took a look around.
The walls were lined, as was the girls’ side, with pictures. She assumed these were of previous residents as they were on the other side as well. The hall came out next to a set of stairs, then branched off to either side, left or right. She walked to the front of the foyer, wondering if there was a door to the outside somewhere. She didn’t remember seeing any but the one door from outside, but for all she knew the foyer over here faced the side of the building. She had lost all sense of direction and place going through those corridors to get to this side.
A staircase took up a large part of the room, wide and wooden. Her eyes followed the stairs up to the second floor where they curved around and opened onto a landing that ran the width of the area, vanishing into dark hallways on either side.
She crept around the stairs, trying to keep her ears open for anyone coming. She had her excuse ready, but she’d just as soon avoid running into anyone else if that was okay. She was about to search the area on the opposite side of the stairs from where she’d come in, still trying to find another phone, maybe an unlocked office, when she looked down and almost ran into a small table and chair set up where she saw the little boy from the girls’ side of the building. He was reading his book, seemingly lost to the world and focused on the pages. Then he set the book on the table, held open with his hands, and looked up into Mandy’s eyes. His expression was blank, as if he saw her more as a curiosity, but the eye contact with a ghost made her very uncomfortable and she felt herself shrinking back, cowering and moving away toward the stairs again.
He turned the page and continued reading.
Forget that area, Mandy thought. There’s no phone over there. She hoped she was right.
She moved toward what she thought was the front of the building, near a window, and pulled her phone out to see if she had reception over here. She could see she had service, or she should. She tried to call the cab company again but the call failed. She tried several times in a row, all to the same end.
She slipped the phone back into her pocket, and as she was turning to search the building on the other side, what would have been left as she came up the hall, when she felt something buzz her. She jumped, then quickly yanked her phone from her pocket to see what happened.
She had a text. Jesus, Mary and Joseph, it was from Sam. She opened it quickly and read it in an instant, then had to read it again. She read it a third time and her heart felt as if it would burst in her chest and she moved back toward the hall next to the stairs.
She started looking at the photos on the wall, one by one, studying each for a second as she made her way gradually back down the hall.
This was a joke, some trick the ghosts were pulling, and it was the cruelest one yet. But she kept looking at the pictures anyway with the sense that, if she didn’t do what they said, they’d only continue to pester her.
Look at the photos, Sam told her. She didn’t know why. What was she looking for? If she knew that, it might help in finding whatever they thought she was going to find.
She looked at a dozen boys, previous residents of different ages, different hair colors, the photos all coming from different eras. Some looked like school pictures while others were enlargements of everyday photos.
She got the sensation now that she would look at the pictures of the girls and find a picture of Lynn among them, or worse, herself, like that photo of Jack Nicholson at the end of The Shining that was supposed to indicate Jack Torrance had always been the caretaker of the Overlook.
That kind of thinking isn’t going to help, she thought.
More boys, boys, more boys, she scanned the photos up one row, then down the next, and she had moved a good ten feet back down the hallway when she stopped and stared at one and that heart-bursting feeling from a few minutes ago turned into a super nova before caving in and becoming a black hole and everything inside her felt hollow and dead.
There was Sam. She hadn’t seen his face in weeks, but there he was. He was several years younger, but there was no denying it. He may have been sixteen in the photo. His hair was long and his acne was terrible--the Sam she knew had short hair and his skin, while still suffering the occasional breakout, and still ca
rrying the signs of having once been bad, had mostly cleared up. But that was Sam.
She looked around the hallway, up and down, then overhead and under her feet, wondering how this was possible. Sam hadn’t grown up here. He had told her his parents had died a few years apart, but it was after he’d graduated. He was nineteen when his mother died, if she remembered, and twenty-one when his father followed, both from lung cancer. He would have told her if he’d been here, right?
Why would he, she thought. If he had, he’d been out of here a long time when they met. And he said his parents died, he never said he grew up with them. She stared at the picture again, then looked at the one above it. She didn’t recognize that face. Down to Sam again. It was him. She couldn’t deny it.
She went back up the hall to the foyer again and paced around for a minute, trying to make sense of it. She pulled her phone out, but the text from Sam was gone. She tried to call him, but it failed and she wanted to throw the phone on the ground. Instead she put it back in her pocket.
She went down the hall and looked at the picture again.
How did they get a picture of Sam? She decided he hadn’t lived here, that this was a joke, a very bad one, and a very mean one, but that was all it could be. Someone was fucking with her. She’d find who it was and she’d make them sorry they ever targeted her, because Mandy Malone wasn’t someone to fuck with.
She was pissed now. She walked up the hall, around the stairs to the right, intent on finding someone in charge and then finding out who was messing with her. She got as far as the table and chair by the stairs before she stopped and looked down.
The little boy was gone. But she noticed something on his chair. She didn’t know how it had caught her eye, some odd, out of place shadow in her peripheral vision, but she bent down to pick it up. It was the book the boy had been reading.
She turned it over. She’d seen him reading it now, what, a dozen times, but didn’t know what it was. She hadn’t even realized the book had been real. And if it had, had anyone else seen it, had anyone else thought it odd that a book was just lying there open on the table?
The Ghosts of Mertland (An Angel Hill novel) Page 14