by Kevin Guest
Downstairs, Anderson was more than pleased with the data he was receiving. Because of his success in secretly placing the monitoring equipment, everything had been recorded between Amy and the entity. He worked for hours to analyze the data, even after the house had calmed.
As the night wore on, Anderson was growing sleepy and had to continually slap himself to stay awake. The monitors were hypnotic and led to daydreaming.
Out of the shadows, Mary stared at him. Her anger grew over the confession of his plans. Though she wanted to stab him in the heart, she decided to continue her seduction. If she could not have him, she would break him.
Slowly, methodically, she walked up behind him and began stroking his hair. He leaned into her, enjoying the softness of her skin. She leaned down and whispered, “The others are asleep. I have not bathed today; let us partake of the wonderful accommodations upstairs.”
Anderson felt weak. Her soothing voice, the breath on the back of his neck, and her seductive invitation was more than any man could stand. He checked all of the equipment, assured it was recording, and then accompanied her to the stairs. There, as she walked ahead of him, he used the flashlight to focus in on the aging youth of her body. He remembered the day he hired her. She walked in, nervous and dressed in yellow. From that moment on, everything else was a formality. She had the job; all she had to do was play the part.
As they entered the massive bedroom, she undressed slowly and made her way into the bathroom. Anderson watched her undress before removing his clothing.
A few moments later, without a care that his naked body would be visible to Fletcher or the students, he walked into the passageway, then into the bathroom on the left. The steam coming from the massive shower was inviting. He slowly walked over and, using the wall as a crutch, he pulled the shower door open and found his lovely secretary basking in the hot water. She turned and motioned for him to come in. As he did, he closed the large door.
Mary traded places with him and sat down on the long bench. Her flashlight sat across the shower, near the door, where it would be safe from the water. As she sat there, she noticed the shadow of Anderson cast by the light seemed to move. She watched it, but his movements made it difficult to tell if the shadow was moving independently.
He looked over at her. “It’s at times like this that I forget all my troubles, don’t you?”
She looked at him. He was her trouble. “Not quite.”
He looked off. “My triumphs are nothing in a place like this--the shower, I mean. When it comes right down to it, we’re nothing but vessels, flesh and blood to carry the soul. Everything else is superficial.”
She shook her head, silently disagreeing. As she continued to watch, Anderson’s shadow seemed to move independently again. She watched the tiles closely, counting them. There were so many, it was hard to keep track.
Anderson continued, “If I could have it my way, all of my troubles would be put in a drawer and left for somebody else to clean up. What’s life without fulfillment, and why must troubles interfere with that goal?”
The shadow continued to move. She was sure it was not Anderson. She wanted to yell out and to run, but she was almost entranced by it. She wanted to see what it would do next.
Anderson stepped out of the water. The shadow moved fluidly with him. He sat down on the bench across from her. The light reflected off the water, sparkling and illuminating the room. The water flowed unimpeded down the drain. They both sat there, motionless, and said nothing. The soothing environment was so wonderful; the most minor of interruptions could ruin the moment.
Jessie yawned and stretched. She reached out for her flashlight as a sudden sense of pressure sent her running to the bathroom. As she sat there, she noticed the steam coming from the shower. “Hello?”
No response.
After finishing, she slowly walked across the floor, across the passage, to the massive shower. She reached out and touched the handle; it was scalding hot. She shook off her hand and grabbed a towel. “Damn,” she whispered. She placed the towel over the handle and opened the door. Inside she found Anderson and Mary asleep. Their skin looked as if they had aged twenty years. Quickly she turned off the water and called for help.
Hearing the cry, Fletcher and Amy grabbed their flashlights, jumped up, and ran into the bathroom. Anderson and Mary were suffering from dehydration. The three helped them into their bedroom. Jessie ran downstairs, out of the house, and into the snack bar. She filled two cups with water and hurried back. Fletcher administered aid to them, assessing their condition and ability to continue with the investigation.
After a few minutes, both were feeling much better. Anderson looked at Fletcher. “How long was I in there?”
Fletcher looked at his watch. “I don’t know. It’s eight a.m. now.”
He looked at him strangely. “Good God, man, I was in there nearly eight hours!”
After resting for a bit, they both dressed and prepared themselves for the day. As they did, Amy walked in and looked at the shower. It seemed quite odd that it could run for such a long time and not deplete its supply of hot water. Another thought crossed her mind: if the house did not have electricity, how did they have hot water?
Downstairs, Jessie had discovered a treat in the snack bar--real plates and silverware! She enlisted Amy’s help, and together they moved one of the outside tables into the dining room. Amy did not even notice where she was. Her senses were being blocked so well that she was unaware of the change. Together, they set the table for breakfast. Afterwards, Jessie returned to the snack bar to prepare the meal. She thought it was odd that she kept discovering groceries that were not there before.
After a short time, Anderson came downstairs, eager to check his equipment. However, his eagerness turned to disappointment as he found his monitors had all gone black. Nothing was working, everything was dead. He checked his batteries and discovered the problem. His disappointment quickly turned to anger. “Damn it, I have had it! Either I get electricity or I want a refund!”
Fletcher walked downstairs, followed by Mary. Amy heard the commotion and walked into the living room. Anderson stood there, looking at them. “Where’s Jessie?”
“She’s outside cooking breakfast,” Amy said.
Anderson smiled as he put it together. “How did we have spaghetti and soda last night?”
The group looked at each other, perplexed.
Anderson looked frustrated. “Come on, people! What runs a soda machine?”
Amy looked at him. “Carbonation?”
Fletcher got it. “Electricity.”
Anderson nodded. “Right--the snack bar has electricity.” He quickly walked out of the house as everyone else followed.
In the snack bar, Jessie was singing as she cooked. Anderson opened the door and noticed the equipment running. “You didn’t think to tell us the stove was electric?”
She thought a minute, then bit her bottom lip. “Sorry.”
He walked behind the small building and found the incoming power line. It connected to a telephone pole that ran down the hayride road, then cut west along the northern part of the midway. The group, minus Jessie, followed the line. They tracked it to a small barn next to the morgue. Anderson pulled the barn door open and found the massive electrical panel for the park. Foolishly, he walked over and threw it open, and yellow jackets exploded out of the box.
The group ran as fast as they could toward the first shelter, the open barn door of the morgue. But suddenly, as they watched in horror, the barn door slid closed on its own, locking them outside with the wasps. Amy, the youngest and fittest of the group, passed the men. Anderson did his best to keep up, but he was too slow; his leg ached immensely. His cane dug into the ground and he fought to keep it free. The wasps stung him mercilessly, but he had to keep moving. Every sting was like being splashed with boiling water.
Amy ran to the side of the morgue and around the building, there she found an open door. She dashed in quickly,
with Fletcher, Mary, and then Anderson following. As Anderson entered, he slammed the door shut, plunging the group into darkness. The group sighed and caught their breath, but then with a solid click, the door locked itself. Anderson grabbed the door, but it would not budge. He looked at them. “Looks like we’re taking the tour.”
Amy could feel they were not alone. The farther away from Reindeer Manor she got, the more her abilities returned. She closed her eyes and let her senses take over.
The air was still and heavy. Though it was a warm morning, it was cold in the morgue, almost freezing. Fletcher flipped on his flashlight and saw two beds before them. They were small, only five feet long at most. A single plain white sheet covered each, along with a pillow at the top. The beds had indentions in them that moved slowly.
The rest of the group turned on their flashlights. As the beds creaked softly, Amy knelt beside them. “The children sleep.” She reached out to each, as if to put her hand on their heads. The air just above the bed was even colder. She did not feel threatened, but at peace. “They are spared the horrors of this place. They sleep ‘til the final judgment.”
As she stood, Anderson took the lead, his flashlight trained a few feet before him as he entered the next room. Amy wrapped her arms around herself as she followed. This room was even colder. The presence in here was dark--not evil, but troubled. She wanted to leave, to run, to escape, but they had to move forward. They had to find another exit. She held on to Mary, and crept forward. She scanned the walls, noting the antique pictures; one in particular was calling to her.