“Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” she said. “Another trick. I hate this fucking place.”
“Well, it wasn’t really a trick,” a voice said.
Mandy jumped, then looked around. She was alone still, but when she turned forward again, she saw the little boy with the book, only now his hands were empty. He sat on the floor in front of her.
“What?” she asked, nervous.
“It wasn’t a trick. I mean, it happened, just maybe not really. Understand?”
Mandy shook her head.
“What’s happening?” she asked.
“You have to remember. And I have to understand.”
“Understand what?”
“What happened that night. Everything was fine, I thought. But when I called, you flipped out and I wasn’t paying as much attention as I should have because I was trying to figure out what you were going on about, and I lost control. Now I’m here. And I don’t mind it here, I got used to this place when I was younger. But I shouldn’t be here. What happened to you that night?”
Mandy was shaking her head again.
“No,” she said. “I don’t get it. You’re talking like Sam, but Sam’s twenty-four. And he has dark brown hair. He doesn’t wear glasses.”
“It was blonde when I was younger. It got darker as I got older. And you know I wore contacts. What happened?”
She got up from the floor, slipped her phone into her pocket.
“This isn’t right,” she said. “You’re not Sam. Sam’s out there somewhere. I don’t know if he’s with Katie or what’s going on there, but you’re not him.”
“There was never anything going on with Katie and I,” the boy said. “Neither of us would have ever done that to you, you should have known that.”
She felt tears coming again, felt a knot rising in her throat.
“Why don’t you look like I remember Sam.”
“Because this is how I looked when I came here,” he said. “The Home draws us in like magnets; that’s where a lot of us come from. You didn’t think all these people actually died here, did you? Once we’re here, though, it forms a bond, like a real home, and when we’re gone, it brings us back. But it brings back the us it remembers.”
“So we’re still in the Home, then?” she asked, hoping he would say no.
“Of course.”
“Where? I’ve never been in this part.”
“We’re on the fifth floor,” he said.
Mandy frowned and looked back at the stairs again.
“But . . . there are only three floors to this place.”
The boy, Sam, if that’s who he was, shrugged and said, “You haven’t even begun to explore this place, Man.”
She stared at his face. She didn’t want to see it, but the more she looked, the clearer it became. She could say no and shake her head and insist it wasn’t true, but the longer she looked, the more of Sam she saw in his young face. She had to mentally darken the hair and remove the glasses, but once she did, it was obvious.
She went to her knees again and buried her face in her hands, sobbing so hard, she had gone silent. She couldn’t remember. She couldn’t answer his question because she didn’t know what happened. She didn’t know why she had said those things. She didn’t know why she had been so angry.
He wasn’t saying anything, he wasn’t moving. She could feel his glare. He was angry. She looked up at him with a plea in her eyes.
If this was Sam, she hoped he still held some of those feelings for her. She hoped he could forgive her. She would put things back the way they’d been, if she could, and she could say she was sorry every day forever.
It wouldn’t change anything, though. She saw that in his face. He didn’t forgive her. That knowledge hit her like a baseball bat to the gut, and she vomited more sobs, her eyes spewing tears. All the wind had been knocked out of her and she wanted to collapse full-length on the floor and let the building consume her, let it swallow her up and hide her away until the pain went away.
But these hard floors, while cool, were unforgiving, and those windows poured in such bright light, she could do nothing but sit here in the hallway and face what she had done. She felt empty inside, like she’d been opened up and everything inside that made up who she was had been scooped out, leaving this void.
She tried to control herself long enough to speak, and when she thought she might be able to manage it for a second, what she said was, “Please.”
He watched her for a moment, cocked his head, considering her, like Sam used to do when she was trying to make him see her side and agree with her.
“What happened?” he asked again.
“Please,” she said again. “I’m sorry, just please.”
“Tell me.”
His brow furrowed, and the look was weird on such a young face, but now that she’d seen Sam in there, she couldn’t unsee it, and she knew that look. Mandy wiped tears from her eyes and tried to stop herself from crying anymore. She sniffled, but for the most part managed to bury it and just stand there in front of him, as if awaiting sentencing, which, she thought, she might be doing.
“Just please, Sam,” she repeated.
She couldn’t bear that look anymore.
Finally he stood up in front of her, still in his ten-year-old body, but firm and with presence before her, and said, “Tell me what happened.”
She couldn’t stand it any longer. She couldn’t stand his rejection and she didn’t know what else to do to convince him she was sorry for what had happened. Mandy broke down for the last time. She lost sight of the boy in front of her. The tears and the crying clouded her vision until everything was a red blur, and the walls of the building were stifling, making her feel claustrophobic and panicky.
She looked around desperately. She ran for the stairs, and took them two at a time, down to the first floor, holding onto the handrail because she went around the landings with such speed, she couldn’t control herself and almost went flying into the wall. She ran blindly, just down, around, down, around, down, around before she realized she should have reached the first floor half a dozen flights back, but she was still running down. She stopped on the next floor and there was the boy, sitting where he’d been. She’d gone nowhere.
“Fuck,” she said. Then she decided on a final alternative, and she barreled down the stairs faster than she had before, hands free, and let her body fly through the window. She didn’t care how far she fell, whether five stories or only one; she had to get out of the building, no matter what happened.
She’d expected a million shards of glass to cut her to ribbons, but it felt almost as if the glass had parted for her, and the air hit her face, took her breath away with how chilly it was, and all the sunlight counted for nothing in cutting through the dense fog, but as she hit the ground--it seemed she only fell a few feet--she rolled with the force and finally came to a stop in the damp grass. It felt like early morning, really early, before normal people were up for the day.
The chill would burn off later and today would be a beautiful day, but for now she wished she had a jacket.
She looked at the building, saw only three floors, but there were no broken windows anywhere, so she didn’t know where she’d come from in there. And she didn’t care.
It was daylight; even if she got lost in the woods, she could see what was ahead of her. The fog may linger, but if something touched her, she would know it.
She smelled rain in the air.
Mandy took off running until her lungs burned and her legs felt like her bones had been replaced by jelly. God, she was hungry. She couldn’t stay on her feet much longer, she thought.
She didn’t know where she was, but she knew she wasn’t in the woods, and that had to be a good thing. Maybe she had managed to get off the Home property. There was pavement beneath her, but the fog kept her from seeing just where she was. She found a street, or what she thought was a street. Could have been a driveway. Whatever it was, she stayed on the path, knowing it would
have to lead somewhere, eventually.
For a moment, she felt the brightest hope and happiness in her heart when she found herself at a bus stop. She’d gotten out. Mandy was on the street somewhere in town. She almost couldn’t believe it. She almost didn’t want to let herself believe it, but she felt the structure. It was real under her hands. She kicked it and it didn’t vanish. She went inside it and collapsed on the plastic bench. She waited.
She pulled her phone from her pocket. No messages. She checked her calls again, but there was still nothing from Sam. Maybe she had imagined it? Maybe she’d been so exhausted she had fallen asleep on the bench at the Home, maybe she had sleepwalked this entire way, that’s why everything seemed so crazy.
The phone told her it was 5:30 in the morning. She didn’t know how long she’d have to wait here, but it didn’t matter.
She tried to call Katie’s phone and she felt a bitter ache in her chest when the call failed again. She would have to get a new phone or something, that’s all there was to it.
It didn’t take long for a bus to appear. It squealed to a stop with a hiss of brakes and the door slid out to open for her.
Mandy got on, then realized she didn’t have any change. Her purse was back at the Home. That meant so was her wallet. When had she dropped it? She had her phone, nothing else.
“Please don’t kick me off,” she said. There was no one else on the bus. “I’m lost, I just need to get back home, but I don’t have any change on me.”
The bus driver looked her over, considered her, then nodded and motioned back to the seats.
Mandy wanted to hug him, but she didn’t. She took a seat instead and put her hands on the seatback in front of her, then buried her face against her knuckles until she saw stars and flashes of bright light behind her lids.
She opened her eyes again and forced herself to look out; she didn’t want to fall asleep again. She had to be aware and watch where they were going so she’d know when to get off.
The fog made that nearly impossible.
She rode for fifteen minutes when she asked the driver, “Can you tell where we are?”
“We’re almost there,” he said, and she nodded and said ok.
Then she realized she didn’t know where “there” was. She almost asked, but something about this suddenly seemed out of place. Where had she gotten on? She didn’t know the street he’d picked her up from. She felt that panic once again in her gut and Mandy was about to get up and ask him to let her off when the bus stopped again on its own. The brakes hissed again. The door opened.
She waited for someone to get on, but no one did, and finally she got up and looked out. He was obviously waiting for her. Mandy stepped down and out onto the sidewalk.
She looked up and wasn’t surprised to see herself standing in front of the Mertland Childrens’ Home.
She had nothing left. All hope inside her was gone.
She walked up the drive, up the steps to the door, and entered the building once again.
Everything was still dead quiet, and felt almost deserted.
Mandy saw the boy sitting at his table in the foyer, reading his book, and she walked toward him. The table had two chairs, one across from the one the boy sat in. Mandy pulled it out and took a seat.
He put the book down and stared at her.
“You were late from work,” she said. “You were late, and you had been late a lot lately and I was trying not to listen to the voices in my head telling me you weren’t really late, that you were just using that as an excuse, but I knew it didn’t make sense, because we spent all of our time together, and you worked with all men, so I knew it wasn’t someone from work. I did a good job convincing myself I was imagining it, that I was just being stupid and when you said you had to work late, that’s what you were really doing.”
He didn’t say anything. His face was a blank.
“But sometimes I think I wanted it to be true, because then it would mean I wasn’t being crazy or stupid, that I knew what was going on. I spent a lifetime with my mother growing up, and I don’t know how my dad handled it as long as he did before leaving, because there were times I swear to God, she was a lunatic. I mean Mommy Dearest kind of crazy, but sometimes more than that and I would get scared because there were times I’d come into the house after school and she wouldn’t hear me and I’d find her talking to someone on the television. We never said anything about it, I don’t know if she knew she was doing it or what she thought she was doing at all, but I think my dad knew it too. But we let it go. And I was always scared that one day I might slip like that and not be able to tell reality from . . . insanity, I guess. So when I started getting worried about you being late so much, part of me wanted there to be someone else, so, it would be terrible and you would leave me, but at least I wasn’t crazy. You know?”
Silence, and a deadpan expression from the boy.
“When you called that night, I had already convinced myself it was over, that you were calling to tell me you weren’t coming home. And then you said you were with Katie and I guess . . . I just . . . I don’t know. It was all so real, and it was the last person I expected and that hurt, it killed me. But by the time I realized it couldn’t be true, I had already gone too far. I knew it. I just needed you to convince me, and I was going to let you, but I didn’t get the chance, and then you were gone.”
She couldn’t tell what he was thinking.
“I’m sorry. I know I was wrong. I know it doesn’t change anything, either. Nothing has been the same since then. I don’t even know, really, when it happened. A few weeks ago?”
“Three months,” Sam said.
“God,” she said. “That long.”
He nodded.
“They said it was an accident, but I knew it was my fault. I went into the hospital, I think, for a while. My parents kept paying the rent on the apartment, so I’d have it and all our stuff still when I got out. But I forgot. I remembered things differently, and I’m sorry. I couldn’t take that guilt.”
“You have to,” he said. “What you did was wrong. You didn’t know how it would turn out, but you knew you were wrong when it was happening. So, yes, you are responsible.”
Mandy nodded.
“Katie’s gone, too, isn’t she?” she asked.
Sam nodded.
“But I just saw her. I spent the night there. She bought me a lunchbox.”
He shook his head, denying her memories.
This was what Lynn was talking about. And Mandy had to face it now, no matter how much it hurt. What was the alternative? Back to the hospital? She couldn’t do that. The hospital was like hell for Mandy. Worse than eternity within these walls, to be locked up in that place with everyone looking at her like she had lost her mind. She couldn’t stand that. She would rather be dead.
“I’m sorry, Sam,” she said.
“I know,” he said, and picked up his book again.
Mandy watched him for a minute, then got up and pushed in her chair. She looked out the window. It was getting brighter out there. She thought it must be really pretty in the winter, with everything covered in snow and so bright.
She turned around and Sam was gone. Mandy pushed in his chair, then went to find Lynn and see out about the morning routine.
END
I want to thank you for taking the time to read The Ghosts of Mertland, and I hope you had as much fun reading it as I did writing it. There are more Angel Hill stories to tell and I am currently at work on the next one, a collaboration with my friend David Bain as we bring his “slightly psychic” character Will Castleton (star of Dave’s novel Death Sight) to Angel Hill to help out an old friend. The novel will be called Return to Angel Hill, and the prologue is included here.
Return to Angel Hill
Prologue:
These were days that would never fade from memory, no matter how many years or how much distance was put between them. Mazie had never doubted the reality of the supernatural world. Spending one’s forma
tive years in a place like Angel Hill, Missouri, it was hard to deny the existence of things like ghosts. And if ghosts, why not more? Why not demons and angels, why not unnatural forces, why not living energy whose only purpose in the world was to cause harm?
As her powers began to develop in her teens, the older and stronger she got, the worse the energies and the harder they were to shut down. And if the psychic energies constantly bombarding her brain weren’t enough, the town itself was, sometimes, just plain mean.
A week before Mazie was left town for good, nine-year-old Ryan McKay vanished. In the world, suspicion would lean toward abduction. Someone had taken Ryan McKay and now the search for him begins. Hopefully he’ll be found alive, scared, but unharmed, maybe in the passenger seat of someone’s old pick-up, looking longingly out the window as they pull up to some gas station or a fast food place where Ryan’s abductor can hide the hand holding the gun behind his door. Ryan may look at the cashier with a plea in his eyes but he won’t say anything and that cashier will think “That kid looks weird. But familiar. Where have I seen him?” Then it’ll click and the cashier will tell the manager who will call the police and Ryan will be returned safe and sound. Or, in the worst case scenario, Ryan was abducted and murdered and his body will be found a few days later in a ditch or in someone’s basement or back yard.
But this wasn’t the world. This was Angel Hill.
At nineteen, Mazie was hot shit. Her abilities to read objects and people had grown over the last six or seven years and she was starting to enjoy them. She kept them to herself, only her grandmother and an aunt, Angie, knew what she could do, and only because they shared the same gift. So Mazie used her abilities as a no-fail lie detector, uncovering the bullshit boys fed the girls, or the lies girls told their friends, and always calling people out for it. It quickly began to alienate those around her, and she feared that telling the few friends she had left about how she did what she did would just drive them away too, and no one wanted to be alone, not in a town like Angel Hill, because sometimes the shapes one saw in the shadows moved.
The Ghosts of Mertland (An Angel Hill novel) Page 16