by Chris Bostic
The door behind Vic led back to the stairwell where she had been sitting with Pete. Back when I’d left them. Before I saw Trench Coat and Jackson.
My mind went into overdrive. I’d been so distracted by Vince that I had forgotten to say anything about the two guys from the boat.
It seemed like the wrong time to bring them up. That could raise questions about why I didn’t say anything sooner, or why I didn’t tell Vince, or try to bring them along with us.
I still had no idea what they were looking for in that office. But that fell low on my list of concerns. Our only job was to get downstairs and get home.
“Can you make the stairs?” Pete asked Vince.
“Yeah.” He grabbed hold of the railing. “I got this.”
I watched Vince take his first step down. He winced, clearly not faking at that point. Our eyes met, and I looked away. No reason to let him think I cared, or let him know I had wrongly accused him.
We got halfway down when a door creaked open above us in the stairwell. I froze, flashing back to Trench Coat and Jackson.
“Who’s there?” Pete called.
The door slammed shut. For a moment, I couldn’t tell if they went back inside, or if they were coming down.
“June? Mike?” Pete asked.
No one answered. Nothing stirred.
“It’s the spirits again,” Vince said through gritted teeth as he took another step.
I knew better than that, but didn’t chime in. I should have, but the farther I went down the rat hole, the farther it would take to climb back out.
I’d never learn. It was always easier to rip the Band-Aid off, but I kept believing that it was best to go slow, or not at all. All that left was extra pain, or a really nasty glue spot or rash where the bandage had been on too long.
“Anyone there?” Vic asked, her voice cracking.
“Just the Old Raven,” Vince said.
She seemed genuinely upset. Vince really wasn’t helping. So I tried to ease her mind with a little bit of the truth.
“That could be,” I said with a grin at Vic. “It’s probably just a bird or something. I saw some kind of black bird up there.”
“Inside?”
“Yep. Perched on a coat rack.”
“Say what?”
“There’s an office up on the top floor. I, uhm, cut through there…looking for Vince.”
“An office? With birds?”
Clearly I wasn’t aiding the situation either. “Just one bird. The windows were busted out, so I guess it came inside to get out of the storm.”
“Kind of like us,” Pete added, also trying but really not helping. “Makes sense, but birds don’t open doors.”
“It’s a big bird,” I pleaded, though it was obviously a joke.
“Maybe it was the wind,” Vince offered. “It’s howling again.”
“I thought that was you, gimpy,” I told him, looking at him grimace on the steps. The building moaned under a stiff breeze at the same time.
“Very funny.” The subtle nod let me know he wasn’t offended.
We kept going and exited the stairwell back on ground level. Rather than go back the way we came to the front door, Vince limped off to the right.
“Where you goin’ now?” Vic asked.
“I saw something over here.”
I couldn’t see anything more than a dark hallway. “Where?”
“By the fermenters,” he replied. “Besides, maybe there is a door open.”
That sort of helped me get my bearings. “I didn’t see anything.”
“There was something on the wall I want to see up close.”
Vic stopped walking. She looked to Pete as if to force him to stop. This time he wasn’t having it.
“We don’t need to separate again.”
I couldn’t tell if that was a veiled shot at me.
Vic made it clearer when she said, “No, we really don’t need that again.”
She shuffled off behind Vince, muttering under her breath.
Pete shrugged at me. “I guess we better follow.”
“Sure. Why not?” I gestured for him to go, and I brought up the rear.
Vince passed a doorway off to the right without bothering to give it a second glance. With the strange sounds and stranger people roaming around, I felt compelled to at least look.
I slowed for a peek. Then stopped, perplexed. Though it should have been completely dark, a strange green glow emanated from the back of the room.
What I could see of the room looked like a miniature high school laboratory with a couple tall tables in the middle. I conjured vision of aliens or something glowing with radiation in the far corner. For whatever reason, I had to find out.
I looked up to see Pete hurrying along to help Vince, who had slowed. That left me with a moment to slip off on my own. I wouldn’t have done it ten minutes earlier, but the glow had me intrigued in a way I couldn’t explain. Besides, it would only be a second.
“I’ll be right there,” I said, but intentionally soft enough that they probably couldn’t hear me. Then I slipped into the room.
CHAPTER 18
“Bizarre,” I said, holding a glow stick in my hand. It looked like the kind kids played with, but too thick to be a necklace or wrapped around a wrist. More like the kind that hung on a trick-or-treat bag at Halloween.
We were nowhere near Halloween. There shouldn’t have been any kids in this oversized haunted house. It would have made a heck of a place to open such a business, I thought. If it didn’t collapse.
I turned the glow stick over in my hand, wondering how long it had been activated. They typically didn’t glow that brightly for more than a few hours, which left only a few possible suspects—none of which seemed like the glow stick kind.
I placed it back on the counter next to a sink. Dusty glasses sat to each side. They were small in stature with a wide base and narrow opening. Much like a beaker from a science lab. Duplicates lined the shelves above the countertop.
“Grace?”
I jumped. A glass slipped from my fingers and shattered on the floor.
“Don’t cut yourself again.”
“Dammit, Pete.” I sucked in a deep breath and blew it out before turning around.
“What are you doing?”
I reached back for the glow stick. “Looking at this.”
“What the heck?”
“Exactly.” I slipped it into the back pocket of my shorts. “Doesn’t make a lot of sense.”
“More like any.” Pete backed into the hallway. “Someone else has been here.”
“What’s going on?” Vic called from down the hall. “Everyone okay?”
“Fine,” Pete said. “We’re coming.”
He nodded for me to follow him. I took a final glance around the room. Seeing nothing else unusual, I trailed behind him.
“So what did Vince need to see?”
Pete shrugged. “Something about grain delivery. Like a loading dock.”
“Alright. Weird.”
I looked around Pete to see Vince propped against an exterior wall. He ran a hand along a rusty roll-up door. It rattled under the pressure, but looked like there was no chance of it ever opening again. At least not without an industrial-sized can opener.
Vic was not close. She stood off on the far side of the room, as far away from the fermenting tank, and Vince, as possible. She leaned over, resting her hands on her knees.
“Great,” I muttered, sensing more drama than a soap opera.
“I don’t know what he’s doing.” Pete raised his voice to call to Vince. “Any luck?”
“It’s not gonna budge.”
I left Pete with Vic and went over to look at it. “A bit stubborn, huh?”
“Vic or the door?” he whispered.
“Not you, huh?”
“Never.”
I shook my head. “So what’s the real story?”
“My head’s killing me. Thought maybe I could find some water or s
omething in that locker room looking place.” He motioned back over his shoulder to a room I had missed.
It seemed unlikely, or at least totally unsanitary, but I asked, “Anything in there?”
“I didn’t get a chance to find out.” He nodded with his head toward Vic. “Someone started whining about leaving.”
“Just tell her you have a headache.”
“Can’t show weakness. A guy has to perform.” He grinned. “You know the headache excuse only works for her.”
“I’m not talking about that, you perv. Sheesh.”
“I’m just kidding.”
“I’m not.” I stepped away from him to get a closer look at the locker room. With Pete consoling Vic, I kept going toward the half open door. From within, metal lockers and a bench in the middle were all I could make out.
I pushed the door open to find a stack of papers piled on the edge of the bench. A hard hat and blue jumpsuit hung in the nearest open locker.
I picked up a paper and blew off a layer of dust. After a low whistle, I called to the others. “Check this out.”
“What is it?” Vince asked.
“This is kinda crazy.” I held up the paper. It was enough to bring them all over for a look. “Who’d you have winning the championship in ’88?” I asked Pete.
“Championship?”
“Kansas or Oklahoma?”
“I wasn’t even born then.”
“Should’ve been the Wildcats,” I said, though I had no clue if they were even in the running that year. It’s just what any Kentucky fan would say.
“Hell, yeah, the ‘Cats,” Vince chimed in. “Let me see that.”
“What’s that gotta do with anything?” Vic asked, looking hopelessly confused.
I handed the paper to Vince, and told her, “Somebody filled out a tournament bracket, like they were gonna go home and watch some games on TV. But they just left it here.”
“Like they had no idea they weren’t coming back,” Pete said.
“Exactly.” I avoided mentioning the office upstairs had been basically the same way. Instead, I pointed to the open locker. “They left clothes in here and everything.”
Vince handed the bracket to Pete and picked up the hard hat off the top shelf.
“You might need that,” I told him, thinking back to our time in the woods.
I opened the locker next to it and found a bikini girl calendar girl staring back at me.
“Damn.” He whistled. “Reckon that was a different time.”
“You couldn’t get away with that now,” Pete said.
“Or with one locker room,” I noted. “It was all men back then.”
Vince opened his mouth to speak. I braced for something sexist or otherwise offensive. But he pinched his lips shut to grimace and rub his head. After tossing the hard hat back into the locker, he scrubbed at his eyes.
“Headache?” I asked even though I already knew.
“Awful.” He sat on the bench, knocking the papers onto the floor. “Man, it’s pounding.”
“That’ll happen when you find out Kansas won,” I joked.
“Better than Duke.”
“True story.” I glanced around the room. “We need to find you some water…not that I think that’s gonna happen.”
“We just need to go,” Vic complained. “I keep saying that and none of y’all will listen.”
“Give me a second.” I popped open a couple more lockers. They both had jumpsuits. Hanging from the hook on one, a gold chain with a cross spun in the breeze. I reached for it.
“Careful,” Vince cautioned. “Don’t burn yourself.”
I shot him a look. “I’m not a vampire or whatever.” I gently took it off and turned it over in my hand—without it erupting in flames. “See.”
It had a nice, heavy chain. Still shiny cross. That wasn’t for me, so I held it to Pete.
He looked at it intently, then handed it back.
“You don’t want it?” I asked.
“It’s not mine.”
“It’s been here since what…‘88? I think you can keep it.” I could see the doubt in his eyes, and that made me rethink the whole thing—then think back to the two guys rummaging through the desks upstairs.
“Better than to see it left here,” Vic said. “Seems like a solid case of finders keepers.”
That almost got Pete to reconsider, but he took the chain out of my hand and hung it up.
“I get that, but it just doesn’t feel right. It’s too personal.”
I nodded. “I know what you mean.”
The place felt like a museum, or more like a morgue made into a museum. Taking anything felt like it could anger the spirits, and we sure didn’t need that.
I shut the locker and gave up the search for water. “Let’s go.”
“Fine,” Vince said, his head resting on his palms. “Little help?”
Pete got him to his feet. As we exited the room, I noticed an umbrella folded by the door. A large, sturdy umbrella with a wooden hook grip. The handle was as thick as a baseball bat.
“How about a cane?” I asked.
“That’s rather dignified.” Vince twirled it around and pretended to tip a top hat. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“And not nearly as personal as the cross,” I added. “I think that is truly up for grabs.”
Pete agreed, perhaps only because it got Vince off his shoulder.
We ventured back into the fermentation room. I turned to head to the hallway leading to the lobby. Vince stopped me by hooking my arm with his cane.
“I’m gonna regret giving you that.”
“Probably.” He grinned and pointed in the opposite direction. “This way.”
“Not the front door? Seems curious.”
“That’s me. I’m a curious fella.”
“Curiosity killed the cat, or so I heard.”
“Not this cat.” He glanced back to the locker room. “Didn’t kill you either.”
“Suit yourself.” I let him lead us over toward the roll-up door again. That was a dead end. I pushed on it, but the metal only groaned ever so slightly and showed no signs of moving. “Looks like we need a new way out, unless you’re ready to head back.”
“I thought we might try over there.” Vince gestured toward a dark corner. Slivers of light leaked in around a loose door frame.
“Alright.” I turned to check on Pete and Vic. “Looks like we’re in charge.”
“That surprise you?”
“Not at all,” I replied once I thought about it for a second. “Lead on, good sir.”
He tipped his imaginary hat again and hobbled off to the door. It flung open easily enough. Light streamed toward us, along with a breeze. It wasn’t light in the sense of a bulb or sunlight. It was more gray than black, and good enough for me.
Then came the chirp of multiple birds. Thinking we might finally be outside, I stepped over the threshold—into another room.
This one had a metal birdcage on a table. Right in the middle of the room. A pure white bird skeleton on its perch stared back at us through the bars of the cage.
CHAPTER 19
“What the fuck?” I uttered.
“You took the words right out of my mouth,” Vince said.
We ducked as black birds streaked from the ceiling, dive bombing our heads.
“It’s like a weird fucking temple,” Vince said, swatting overhead. He stepped backward, blocking the doorway so Pete and Vic couldn’t get through. That also meant I couldn’t get out.
I didn’t share the same initial reaction other than hand waving at the ravens to keep them back. Given a second to collect my thoughts, I found a vague resemblance to a temple in the way the caged bird was displayed. There was no way it had died, decomposed, and remained upright on a perch. It was obviously intentional, as were the candles on the four corners of the table.
Bird worshipers. If so, they’d come to the right place.
“Move it, Vince,” I nudged him.
“I’m trying,” he said, though I wasn’t convinced.
I crouched lower so the birds would be more inclined to attack him first, and that got him moving. He squeezed back out of the room, and the ravens immediately stopped circling—even though I was still in there.
“That’s bizarre.” I knelt on a single knee, keeping my head covered, and got a better look.
The far wall had a picture of a giant black bird two stories tall. Most likely a raven, since it seemed to resemble the bird on the label of an Old Raven bottle. The only differences being the bird faced left instead of right and was surrounded by stars rather than stalks of corn.
The picture was free of the typical dust and debris. If anything, it looked like it had been freshly painted. Hand painted, and extremely detailed.
In fact, the whole room was spotless. The other walls boasted more of a clean, cream color. The floor tile appeared polished, though old. Beyond the creepy skeleton on the table, a massive wooden bar stretched half the length of the room. The shelves behind it were empty. The decorative mirror in the middle shone brightly.
The only area in need of work was the exposed ceiling where a dozen pairs of beady eyes stared down at me.
Someone pulled on me, trying to drag me back out of the room. I resisted.
“Hold on,” I whispered, not wanting to upset the birds. They didn’t budge, so neither did I.
I found a sign on the backwall. It was made to look like an old tin sign, though a newer replica. It also had a big black bird on it like the painting, only this one had a flourish of cursive words I couldn’t make out at the distance.
I got back on both feet, remaining in a crouch. The birds watched. I waddled a couple steps toward the sign. Still nothing.
“Grace,” Pete whispered harshly. “Where are you going?”
A bird cawed. The sound echoed around the room.
“Quiet,” I whispered back. “If we’re quiet, we won’t bother them.”
“The hell you say,” Vince bellowed. “They tried to take my head off.”
More birds cawed. I looked back to see Vince brandishing the umbrella like a bat.
“Knock it off, man. Just keep it down.”