by Chris Bostic
“We’re all just tired and stressed,” he whispered. “She didn’t mean anything by that.”
I waved a hand dismissively. “It’s fine.”
“I know that tone.”
“Nah…seriously. It’s all water under the bridge, or boat down the river now.” Out of nowhere a water droplet smacked me on the nose. I jumped a foot. My shoe hit a huge puddle when I landed, splashing Pete. “Sweet Jesus.”
“What was that all about?” he asked tentatively.
“Reckon it’s more like rainwater under the bridge. The roof is leaking all the way down here.” I stepped to the side of the narrow hallway to skirt around a shiny patch. “It’s all over the damn floor.”
“This place is a death trap,” Pete said. I could see him wanting to wipe off his leg but resisting the need to do it in front of me. It wouldn’t insult me, but I wasn’t about to tell him. At least we were on the same page about this place.
Somewhere up ahead, we could hear Vince blathering on like a tour guide. I tried to tune him out, but his voice echoed through the narrow hallway that seemingly went nowhere.
We made at least two turns without seeing another door. With the damp, musty atmosphere, it felt like a dungeon. At any moment, a jailer was going to jump out of a side passage and drag me off in chains.
I wondered if we should yell for the others, then realized anyone could hear Vince coming from a mile away.
We made another turn and ran across a doorway that opened into a large, high-ceilinged room. Vince led us in, taking a second to get his bearings. Then he announced, “And this, ladies and gentlemen, is where the magic happens.”
“Maybe a little disappearing act?” Vic said. “Like we get outta here.”
“Yeah, like a teleporter,” Pete added.
“Not quite that good,” I said, glancing around the room. “But the stuff they made in here sure could take you places.”
“And there you have it,” Vince pronounced. “The girl gets a prize. Paradise in a bottle.”
“It answers a question, for sure,” I replied, and stepped around Vince to get a better look at an antiquated column still. “The copper is still here.”
“About fifty feet of it, leading straight to heaven like Jacob’s ladder.” Vince leaned to the side as he looked up, bumping into me in the process.
“Water into high wine,” I pronounced as I straightened him up.
“The promised land,” he slurred. “Manna from heaven.”
“Heavenly juice, indeed. Or devil’s brew, based on what I tasted earlier.”
“You two heathens want to lay off the sacrilege?” Vic said.
“Cures whatever ails you, babe. Sounds like you could use a little.” Vince ignored her glare to circle around the still, following the tubing to a pair of copper boxes mounted about head height on the wall. He whistled. “White lightning.”
“Oh, yeah, Cousin Eddie. Heads and tails.”
“What up with you two? You flippin’ a coin?” Pete asked, coming up behind me.
“Silly boy.” I gestured to the splitter, which he should have recognized from our earlier tours. “It’s the white dog.”
“The new make?” he said tentatively.
“Yes, you’re getting it!” Vince bellowed. “If only Vic would relax and get in on the action.”
“The only action I want is a trip home. Now.”
“Can’t say that I disagree,” Pete told Vince. “I think it’s time to cut the tour short.”
CHAPTER 14
“You guys are no fun,” Vince declared.
Vic wasn’t having it. “The fun was over a long time ago, Vincent.”
“Oh, boy. There comes the full name again,” Pete said. “You better listen up and get going.”
“Not yet. What’s the point in going back outside?”
“Going home,” Vic retorted.
“We have the whole place to ourselves. When was the last time you got to see something this old. This cool.”
“I guess it’s warmer in here than outside,” I said begrudgingly, which drew a withering look from Vic. “But I’d rather go home.”
Vince took off walking deeper into the facility. Over his shoulder, he said, “Humor me.”
“Humor less,” Vic grumbled. “He’s insufferable when he’s like this.”
We followed him deeper into the facility. Rusty pipes lined the walls, crisscrossing in what seemed like random fashion. Water dripped, adding to the cave-like atmosphere.
Mold was the overwhelming odor. The mustiness overpowered us in the hallway, so Vince ducked into a stairwell. Next thing I knew, we were climbing higher into the facility.
“Where’s he going?” Pete asked me.
I wasn’t sure why he thought I would know. The most I could offer was a shrug. At least we could see where we were going, thanks to the murky windows on every landing.
“This way,” Vince kept saying.
He stopped long enough to push open the doorway to the second floor, then let it shut. As he kept climbing, Vic sat down on the steps.
“That’s it,” she said. “I’ll be here.”
“Vince,” I called out, but he kept going. “Cousin Eddie!” He finally turned around and looked down over the railing at us. “Your fiancée is staying.”
“That’s cool.” He waved us on. “C’mon. We’ll be right back. I just wanna look around real quick.”
Steam practically rolled out of Vic’s ears, her fists clenching as Vince pounded up the staircase. I sat down next to her. Pete stood behind us.
“We’ll wait with you,” I said. “Let him go on.”
She leaned forward and rubbed her calves. “I’m just done.”
“Heck, yeah. We’re all tired,” Pete said. “My feet are killing me.”
“Not that,” Vic replied. “He just never knows when to stop. I’m done with it.”
“We’ll get outta here.” I heard a door creak above us, where Vince evidently stopped to check on the third floor. “He’ll be back and we’ll drag him out.”
“I don’t care. I’m done.”
Though I knew better, I couldn’t help parroting her. “Sounds like you’re…done.”
She hung her head. We sat in silence for a minute, interrupted by another door opening and closing, before she finally said, “Just go find him before he does something stupid. Or stupider.”
I looked to Pete, wondering if he’d read my thoughts. Of course, he got them all backwards. I would have been happy to stay with Vic, but he said, “You want to go get him?”
I wanted to reply with an unequivocal, “Not really.” I had no interest in separating myself from the others in this haunted house, especially when Vince had a sizable head start. I hadn’t heard his voice or footsteps in a little while.
“I can stay,” I said, looking to Vic. She didn’t bother to lift her head.
“Whatever you want,” Pete said.
That wishy-washy answering of his drove me crazy. I almost stormed away then, but decided to prolong things as long as I could. With any luck, Vince would be back, though I had my doubts.
“I don’t care,” I said. “I just thought you might want to go get your buddy.”
“Seems like he’s your buddy now,” Pete replied.
I put my hands on my hips. “So you’d rather send me off all alone?”
“Would you two stop?” Vic interrupted. “I’ve had enough of the bickering already.”
“Good point,” I said. “Guess I’ll go find him.”
“I can do it,” Pete said, but my pride had already gotten the better of me.
I went up the stairs, huffing like a two-year-old. Before long, up on the fourth floor, I was puffing as well, the exhaustion of the day taking a toll on me.
Pulling the door open, I stuck my head into a wide, open room. The last gasp of daylight filtered in through a row of windows, each more broken than the last.
“Vince?” I called out, though seeing no sign of anything othe
r than rows of empty wooden desks. Not a cubicle wall in sight, just open concept office space, with a heck of a view through the windows.
Vince, of course, did not reply. Had the weather not remained awful, I would have expected birds or other wildlife to give me a welcome, seeing how the woods and creek filled the vista. All those shattered windows gave a great view of nature that put my current employer’s cubicle-walled office building to shame.
“This isn’t so bad,” I whispered, trying to hype myself. “Could be a lot worse.”
The blackened sky of earlier was transitioning. Way off in the distance, a glow rose from the horizon. Overhead, the waves of foggy gray were breaking up into better defined shapes of puffy cloud cover.
The storm was over, though rain still smacked against the roof, thrumming on the metal. Not overly loud though. It was a more peaceful, relaxing sound.
“This is not what I expected,” I said to myself. I felt a bit ashamed about the way I had stormed off from Pete and Vic, but couldn’t forgive him either for sending me off alone.
I straightened my shoulders and chided myself for thinking such silliness. I didn’t need anybody. This girl could take care of herself. I had done it before when I was far younger, so I could surely manage a few minutes alone.
I walked halfway across the room, admiring the solid wooden desks of yesteryear. There was none of that cheap modular office furniture. And no computers.
Some desks looked like the workers had just gotten up and left, assuming they would be coming back the next morning.
One had a picture of a family at the beach. All smiles. Sun shining, or as best as I could tell with the way the corners of the photo had warped and faded. That sounded nice, especially being something I’d never experienced other than a couple girls’ trips with Vic for spring breaks. Back when we’d first met at college and went from random roommates to best friends by the end of freshman year.
A rare good memory, yet the picture creeped me out at the same time. Who left their stuff at work? It reminded me of those crazy alien invasion movies where everyone had been vaporized. I looked for a pile of dust in a chair where someone might have been sitting when the alien death ray hit, but all I could find was a thin layer of dark, moldy dirt.
“That’s kinda like a dust pile,” I mumbled, and everything started to get creepier from there. Another desk with a picture of a beloved pet, only the fading made it look more gruesome. Malformed.
A light fixture overhead swayed in the breeze. I looked up expecting to see bats on the ceiling, or something suitably creepy, but there was nothing but yellowed, peeling paint and a similar chandelier farther across the room.
“Weird light fixtures,” I observed anyway, wondering who thought an office should look like an outdated ballroom. Once again, I had to remind myself that fluorescents probably weren’t so ubiquitous back when the place had closed.
Movement in the far corner caught my eye. I froze, then slowly sat the creepy kitten picture back on the desk.
I squinted into the shadows. It was a man, tall and thin, ramrod straight, watching me with glinty eyes from underneath a top hat.
My heart thrummed in my chest, pounding out a rhythm way too fast. Sweat formed on my brow. I balled hands into fists, nails cutting into my palms. I crouched, ready to fight or flight. But the man didn’t move.
His jacket fluttered in the breeze. A trench coat. Just like the creepy bartender on the boat. First the soldiers show up, then him.
“Vince?” I said, backing toward the stairwell. “You around?”
No reply. Thankfully not from the far corner either. I kept backing up, one gradual step at a time.
I bumped the corner of a desk, and nearly ended up sprawling on the floor.
A flutter overhead had me ready to sprint to the steps, but I resisted. I had to regain my balance for my fighting stance. Besides, it just seemed better to sidle back than make an obvious show of running, as if the mystery man would make a sudden rush if startled.
The flutter increased. A black dart streaked right over my head. I waved at it, frantically. Foolishly, as if I could stop the alien attack.
With a caw, the black bird settled right on the top hat across the room. The man didn’t move.
Tilting my head, I rose back to my feet, still squinting into the dark corner.
The bird cawed again.
I had some weird Edgar Allen Poe flashbacks. My mind still irrational, like the man had a trained attack raven, and still he didn’t move.
The breeze rustled the coat again, more violently. I stood up to shake my head.
“You dumbass. Scared of an effin’ coat rack.”
With the bird sitting on it eyeballing me, I gave the rack a wide berth. But I inched close enough to verify that an old, dark trench coat and hat had most certainly been abandoned by its owner.
I stood there for a minute wondering where to head next. Vince was obviously long gone, and now had an even bigger head start.
I found a door in the far corner still ajar. I hadn’t heard him come back down the stairs earlier, and figured the doorway had to be the only option. So I kept my eyes on the raven as I made my way across the room and into another corridor.
From down the hallway, voices carried to me. More than one. I paused and turned an ear to listen. Not Pete and Vic, which I hadn’t expected anyway. Definitely not Vince.
I confirmed there were two. Both male. Not the soldiers, thankfully.
They seemed to be coming closer. I debated going back through the office and down the stairs, but curiosity had the better of me. Not to mention a healthy dose of anxiety.
“Better to hide and see who it is,” I told myself. There was a big, industrial door ahead off to the right. I hustled over to it and gave it a push.
I cringed when it creaked on its hinges, but it opened fairly easily otherwise. As footsteps pounded ever closer in the hallway, I ducked inside.
CHAPTER 15
With the door closed, complete darkness reigned. I cursed Pete again for letting me head off alone. Then I cussed myself for leaving—and for trapping myself in a dark room.
The footsteps echoed in the hallway, drawing closer. I swallowed exaggeratedly, then backed away from the door, reaching out in every direction to try to avoid bumping into anything.
An unfamiliar voice carried under the heavy door. Then another. Both male, like I had thought. Although I couldn’t make out all the words clearly, I remained convinced it wasn’t Vince or the soldiers.
Judging by the occasional phrase I picked up, they seemed to be looking for someone, or something.
Being unable, or more like unwilling, to go any deeper into the room, I decided to creep back to the door. I leaned a shoulder into it in the vague hope that they might think it was locked, should they try it.
The footsteps grew louder. One with a sharp slap like dress shoes while the other pair was more of a scuffle.
My heart rate ramped up with every step. I held my breath, and strained to hear them talking, but they had suddenly gone quiet.
“Hold up,” one of them said from right on the other side of the door.
I leaned harder, praying I wouldn’t make the door shake or rattle. Then I wondered if I should. If they were half as creeped out as I was, I could see them take off running.
But if they didn’t….
I swallowed again and waited. Still nothing.
“Swear I heard something movin’,” one of the men said.
“Probably a damn bird, man.”
“Yeah. Them windows are shit.” This guy sounded more familiar, or at least his southern twang did.
“Damn place is falling apart.”
Clothing rustled. Something brushed up against the door.
“What was that?”
My stomach twisted in anticipation, sending bile to the back of my throat. I choked it down and kept from gasping.
“I dunno,” the first man said to Twangy.
More rustling,
like the sound of mice moving through the walls late at night. My skin crawled at the visual. I had half a mind to throw the door open and scare the shit out of them too. Then sprint.
“That ain’t nothin’,” Twangy said. The floorboards creaked out in the hallway as someone adjusted their weight. “Look, by the danged coat rack.”
“Damn birds alright.”
I almost laughed out loud thinking the trench coat and hat had fooled them too. Small victories soothed my damaged pride.
“You sure ‘bout this anyway?” Twangy replied.
“Why not?” The rest of the reply cut out, but I caught, “…get it done.”
“I ain’t sure it’s worth it now.”
Shoes scraped on the floor like a man dragging a body. That wasn’t the visual I needed right then, but there was no way I was moving until they had cleared out.
Once the footsteps faded away, I slowly nudged the door. I took maybe a full minute to get it far enough open to slip out without making it squeak. But not without a long look down the hallway in both directions first.
Nothing.
The hallway continued off the right, with what looked like an open room ahead. To the left, the coat rack remained untouched. The raven was gone. Otherwise, from this distance, it looked just like it had before from across the office room.
Then a man stepped right into my field of view, approaching the coat rack. He sported a similar jacket, which I recognized immediately from the boat.
“You see this hat? I need it,” Trench Coat said over his shoulder to his buddy. That one had to be Toothless Jackson. Shoeless Joe as Vince had called him. Hence the shuffling, quieter feet. Or so I hoped.
I stayed back in the shadow of my doorway, watching the lanky man take the hat off the rack. He flipped it in his hands, blew a cloud of dust off the top, and tossed it on his head as smoothly as a magician. Then he walked back into the office.
“Well, shit,” I muttered, and stood there for a while longer considering my next move. There were pros and cons to both. I could come up behind those guys all nonchalant and lead them down the stairs to Pete and Vic. Or I could try to find a different way down. Neither seemed without a measure of peril.