by Rick Suttle
Later that afternoon, I interviewed for the waiter position.
“I see you’re attending U.C. a year early,” said Mark, as he sat opposite me at one of the booths, poring over my resume.
“I am,” I said.
“So, you’d only be working through the summer?”
“I may be able to work a few nights per week in the fall.” I had a pretty full schedule and didn’t know if I could work in the fall, but I wanted the job. A little exaggeration never hurt anyone.
“Can you be here tomorrow at four o’clock?” I had to do some quick thinking about the investigation. I still had more work to do and didn’t want to wear myself out.
“I’m going out of town this weekend,” I said—another exaggeration but not an outright lie.
“Oh.” He glanced at me and frowned. “What’s your schedule look like next week?”
“I’m available after Tuesday.”
“Great. Be here at three Wednesday afternoon. I have some paperwork you’ll need to complete—a W4 and I9.”
“Thank you, sir,” I said, as I stood and shook his hand.
“Please. Call me, Mark.”
“Thanks, Mark.”
I got home around five, after an hour workout at Planet Fitness. I climbed the steps with my gym bag in my hand, toting my interview clothes and street shoes. I stopped in the hall outside Sarah’s room. She was stooped over at her desk with the palm of her hand on her left eye. She was murmuring to herself.
I stood there a few seconds and decided not to bother her. The headache or extreme concentration—whatever it was—meant she was working on the investigation. That’s all I cared about, though I didn’t want her to suffer. But this sort of thing was typical with a psychic medium. I expected Sarah to be fully prepared for Sunday night.
Later that night, I was lying on my bed thinking about a girl I liked in one of my classes. He name was Cindy Marshall, a pretty, petite blonde who was also majoring in Engineering. I had just spoken to her for the first time the week before exams, joking how the professor never called on anyone from the back row in the large auditorium-sized classroom. She laughed and said, “Good thing, because I’m half asleep in this class most of the time.”
“Do you work late?” I said, gazing into her ice blue eyes. She smiled and locked eyes with me.
“Four days a week at the dining hall, and then I study till midnight or one.”
“That’s a tough schedule.”
“Yeah,” she said. “When I have eight o’clock classes all week.”
She eyed me again, smiled then looked away. She had just looked back at me—which I saw through my peripheral vision—when the professor mentioned something about the upcoming exam. My pen point then dropped down to my note page.
I had felt an immediate connection to Cindy—something I’d never felt with any other girl. We had spoken to each other on a Monday. That Friday, I kicked myself in the butt and asked for her number. I was just thinking about calling her next week when Mike strolled into my room.
“Girl or crisis?” he said.
“Aren’t they one in the same?” He chuckled, then his eyes widened.
“I got some great information today from the local historian.” I sat up on the bed and placed my feet on the floor. Mark sat down next to me.
“You’ve heard about the 1937 flood here in Ohio and Indiana?” He clasped his hands and placed them on his lap.
“Sure.”
“Well, some children died during it.”
“How? The school’s on a hill.” Mike stood up and then plopped back on the bed.
“Jake said they froze to death. It was wintertime.”
“How many kids?”
“Nine.” My eyes widened. My heart shot to my throat.
“Oh, my God,” I said. I suddenly felt sick to my stomach. “How did it happen?”
“He doesn’t how or why it happened. Nobody does. But somehow the children were locked in a room in the annex building.”
“You mean, the one we saw the other day?”
“Yes,” said Mike. He stood and thrust his hands out—the first real excitement he’d shown with the investigation, other than getting spooked by the children. “Three kids were found in the room—a girl and two boys. They found the others in the corridor outside the room.”
“They were trying to help them.”
“Exactly,” said Mike. “And Jake said they’ve never had heat in that corridor. That’s one of the reasons they stopped using the annex.”
“And the other reason is that people saw spirits?”
“Probably. He didn’t know for sure.”
“How about the remodeling,” I said. “They’re working on the corridor now.”
“The construction workers are going to connect that building with the cafeteria and run some heating ducks through there.”
I squirmed on my bed and then stood to face Mike.
“What about the evil man. Does he have something to do with all this?”
“Jake doesn’t know,” said Mike. “That’s something Sarah needs to find out.”
During the investigation, Sarah kept complaining how difficult it was to communicate with the child spirits. There was always too much turmoil with the two men, women and evil spirit, which was after the kids. The children had run away when the evil man appeared in the basement. That’s why I was shocked by Sarah’s response when I asked her if she knew what happened to the children.
She was turning her sheets and cover down, preparing for bed, clad in her pink and white summer pajamas.
“They froze to death.”
“How did you know?”
“Theresa told me.”
“When?”
“Tonight in my room.”
Sarah looked at me as she kicked off her slippers. “Theresa was the girl who died in that room. She was the oldest of all the children who died.”
I paced the room with my arms folded across my chest. I then stopped, eyed Sarah and asked her, “Who is the man . . . the evil one?”
“She couldn’t tell me. She disappeared just after I asked her. I think the man was after her.”
Sarah crawled into her bed and flipped off the light on her nightstand. The hall light remained on.
Sarah sighed as she rustled her sheets and bed cover, finding a comfortable position to sleep. “You can leave now,” she said.
“Okay, sis. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Dylan. Thanks for saving me the other night.”
“That’s what brothers are for.”
I finished reviewing the recordings just before bed, and didn’t find much else besides what we’d already heard. Sarah and Mike hadn’t picked up much in the cafeteria and locker rooms, except for a few giggles and the sound of footsteps. The ghosts had stayed quiet for the most part, except for the evil spirit. He must’ve been silencing them, aware of the power of our communication devices.
When I reviewed the videos, I saw the zombie-like children Mike had seen when Sarah and I were in the annex. Three of them stood near the camera. He was right. Their faces were a pale gray with streaks of blue around their eyes and mouths. The tall girl in the center—Theresa, I assumed—stared into the camera and said something, but I couldn’t hear her. I turned the volume up and watched the two-minute segment again.
“. . . left . . . us. He . . .”
The girl turned as someone yelled. Then the three spirits vanished. I kept watching the video. A minute later, a mist formed before the camera, surging toward the ceiling and expanding outward. I jumped when the snarling face appeared inches from the camera.
“ . . . DIE TONIGHT!”
CHAPTER 17
Sunday came around very quickly. All three of us went to church, where my dad was preaching about David and the Book of Psalms. The Psalms were prayers and revelations about God, which covered about every problem known to man. I often picked one at random during difficult times, and was always amazed how relevant it was to wha
t I was experiencing at that moment. Dad continued with his sermon, his booming voice resonating throughout the sanctuary.
We always found it best to attend church every week to keep our faith strong. It enabled us to better fight the evil spirits we encountered on investigations. Of course, with our father being the pastor of the church, we were obligated to attend.
My dad performed another blessing on us a half hour after the service ended. Eight hours later, we met Joyce at school. Phil wasn’t there. He had a death in the family. Another guard named Bill let us in the school. He looked more like a bouncer at a bar—with his broad shoulders and chiseled forearms. He stood at least six-five.
“Bill’s going to stay with you during the investigation,” said Joyce, as we sat around the meeting table in the office. Bill stood by the door with his hands on his belt. He glanced over at Joyce when she mentioned his name.
“We don’t need a guard with us,” I said, more than a bit frustrated.
“The principle feels you do, especially after some of the damage that was caused during the last investigation.”
“Damage?”
“Broken light bulbs and doors. Desks and chairs scattered all around in the annex. A broken window. I told you not to go back there.”
I was surprised that Joyce knew about the annex. It didn’t seem that anyone had been back there in ages, until last Sunday.
“I’m sorry about the damage, but we didn’t cause that,” I said. “And we needed to investigate the annex because the construction back there is causing some of the disturbance.”
“Oh. How’s that?” I thought I’d already told her how spirits reacted to changes in their surroundings.
“I’ll provide all of that information at the end of our session. But you have to give us permission to go back there again.”
Joyce looked at Bill. The macho guard shrugged. “Okay. But Bill will have to accompany you back there. Agreed?”
I looked at Sarah, who just rolled her eyes.
“Okay.”
“Bill’s the one who found the mess in the annex, since Phil never goes back there.”
“I see.” I glanced at Bill. He eyed me with a look that said, I’m in charge, punk.
“Okay,” said Joyce. “I guess you’re all set.”
“As soon as we bring in the equipment.”
“Good.” Joyce got up and walked over to Bill. He then escorted her out of the building, and to her car.
“Great,” said Mike. “That’s all we need is that muscle head overseeing everything we do tonight.”
“Relax,” said Sarah. “He won’t be a problem.” I understood why Sarah said that, but didn’t comment.
Bill returned a few minutes later, scowling as he entered the room.
“All right, kids, get your equipment or whatever you need, and let’s get started.”
I felt like we were on probation all of a sudden. Mike and I jumped up from our seats and headed for the door. I had just touched the doorknob when I heard Sarah say, “Listen here, mister. This is our investigation and we’re in charge. If you want to get rid of the spirits and problems they’re causing, then let us do our job.”
I turned around, as did Mike, half expecting to see the guard squeezing Sarah by her neck in mid-air. You know, like Bluto and Olive Oil in Popeye. Instead, the guard laughed and said, “Little girl, don’t tell me what to do. I have a job here. Besides, I don’t believe in ghosts . . . or psychics.” He chuckled. Joyce must’ve told him about Sarah’s abilities.
Sarah grit her teeth. Her face reddened. Oh boy, I thought to myself.
“Maybe your wife will believe me when I tell her about the blonde you slept with last night.” There it was. Sarah had rarely used her psychic abilities to prove a point, but this guy deserved it.
The grin melted from the guard’s face. His eyes widened and his throat churned. He didn’t respond as Sarah walked past him. We carried all the equipment into the schoolhouse within ten minutes. And we had everything set up by ten.
“Dylan, I think we should start in the annex building,” said Sarah. “I want to talk to the man and put him at ease.” I nodded. We stood in the office near the cooler as Sarah sipped on a Coke.
“You okay with that, Bill?” said Sarah, as she set her soda on the cooler. She grinned as she took a bite of a granola bar.
“Yeah, sure.”
“Good. Because you can’t use that flashlight in there.”
“How will I see?” He flipped his flashlight off.
“I’ve got an extra pair of goggles,” I said.
I think we have everything,” I said, as I reviewed my list. Bill just stood there and frowned as he held the night-vision goggles. He seemed reluctant to put them on.
“Oh, one last thing.” Sarah was reviewing her own notes as she stood by the table. She then placed the notebook in her carrying bag. Mike was studying the cameras on the three laptops. Both of them looked up at the same time.
“I made copies of a prayer in case we need it,” I said.
“You mean for an exorcism?” said Mike.
“A minor one, yes. Only if we need it.” I handed copies to Sarah and Mike.
“That’s crazy. Dad will kill us,” he said.
“It’s just as a last resort. I don’t think we’ll need it.”
This time, I had set up three cameras in the annex and three in the basement, which were the two most haunted places. The other cameras were scattered throughout the hallways. I also had a spectrometer in the main hallway to pick up changes in light frequencies. The device usually validated the presence of ghosts by picking up images in lower light frequencies. But with all the activity we’d experienced so far, we didn’t really need it.
We walked through the annex hallway, through the three doorways to the back classroom. Most of the desks had been picked up and restacked, which wasn’t a good thing. The spirit could use them against us again, perhaps crushing one of us with an entire stack.
“What are you doing,” said Bill, as I pulled out the Ovilus. The orange goggles looked much too small on his full face.
“Shhhhhh!” said Sarah. “No talking.” He looked at Sarah, then back at me.
“I’d listen to her,” I said. The big man shut up.
We headed for the back corridor toward the office. Bill had to duck to get through the doorway as I followed him in. Sarah had her recorder ready. We were back near the annex office a few minutes later. Sarah stood near the doorway as not to intimidate the spirit.
“My name is Sarah,” my sister began. “I’m not here to hurt you.” She paused, holding up her voice recorder, allowing time for responses between questions. “I know the children died here, and that you were just trying to warn or tell us something when you ran after us last week.” Sarah paused. “Did you see the children die? . . . If so, who was responsible?”
“Dylan, turn the Ovilus on. I see him now, but he’s not responding.”
I glanced over at Bill. His throat churned.
I turned on the Ovilus—with the built-in dictionary—which picked up spirit voices as they occurred.
“Hi. My name is Dylan. I’m Sarah’s brother. You can speak into this device. It will take less energy.”
It took a lot of energy for spirits to speak or reveal themselves. The Ovilus didn’t drain their energy as much.
“Sarah, go ahead.” I let Sarah ask the questions because the man was more likely to respond to her.
“What is your name?” . . . “Just your first name.”
Sarah waited for a half minute, but the spirit didn’t respond.
“Can you tell me your . . .?”
“By . . . ron.” The voice emitted from the device sounded like a talking computer or a person using a voice box to speak.
“Incredible,” I said. “I don’t think that name’s in the Word database.”
“I know,” said Sarah. “But I had to ask him.”
“No, you’re fine,” I said. “Go on.”
/> “Thank you for responding,” said Sarah. “Is your name Byron Ferguson?” Sarah paused.
“Yes.”
Just then, I heard Bill gasp. I placed my finger to my lip to hush him. Droplets of sweat beaded his forehead. He looked as if he was having trouble breathing.
“Did you see the children die?” Sarah waited for a response. She had just taken a breath, ready to pose another question, when the spirit said,
“Yes.”
“Was anyone responsible for their deaths?”
“Yes.”
“Who was the person responsible for the children’s deaths?”
He’s getting up,” said Sarah. He’s afraid of something.
“Coming.”
“Who’s coming, Byron?”
“Bad . . . man . . . ” . . . “Evil” . . . “Go!”
“He . . . is . . . com . . . ing.”
Suddenly a gust of air blew through the corridor, knocking Sarah into the door jamb. Dust and debris swirled around our heads. I glanced down the far end of the corridor and saw a large mist forming. I grabbed Sarah.
“We’ve got to get out of here,” I shouted. “Let’s go.”
CHAPTER 18
We ran through the corridor as fast as we could. Bill trailed behind as he stooped and struggled with the low ceiling. He kept screaming, “Help . . . help!”
“Don’t show your fear,” I shouted, as we reached the doorway. Sarah turned around. Bill ran past her. I leaped into the back classroom, reached back and grabbed the door.
“Sarah, come on.”
The mist appeared around the slight bend in the corridor, ballooning out until it touched the ceilings and both sides of the narrow passageway. The large angry face then protruded from the ghostly mass and shot forward.
“You can’t stay here!” Sarah shouted. “You must leave.” The evil entity growled and reached out for her—its wispy arms extending more than ten feet. Sarah screamed. She lunged forward as I closed the door.
“It’s got my shirt,” said Sarah. I looked down and saw that Sarah’s blouse was trapped in the door. “Help me, Dylan, before he pulls me back in. We’ve got to help the children.”