by R. T. Lowe
“Yep,” Lucas answered. “David Litman. I’ve never actually talked to the guy, but his agency signed me and the whole cast. Fat Johnny P, Fatter Johnny P, Venus de Sexy, Z-Bling, Cleopatra. Everyone.”
“Sounds like David Litman’s trolling for idiots,” Caitlin said dryly.
Lucas shrugged. “Maybe. But he wouldn’t have done it if he didn’t think we could make him a bunch of money.”
“I think it’s cool,” Harper said.
Caitlin pursed her lips. “I don’t get it.”
“What’s to get?” Lucas said, giving her a look. “You watch it, right? If you have an issue with idiots getting famous and making ridiculous amounts of cash for being stupid, then stop watching.”
“She can’t.” Harper laughed. “She’s totally addicted to terrible TV like the rest of us.”
“Whatever,” Caitlin snorted. She wasn’t willing to admit what everyone already knew: She was borderline obsessed with reality TV.
Lucas swallowed down a good portion of what was left in his mug and grinned. Felix recognized this particular expression. It usually meant Lucas was about to screw with somebody, or do something he probably shouldn’t—or both.
“Still not impressed, huh?” Lucas said to Caitlin. “Okay, I’ll show you something that’ll slap the blasé right off your face.”
“Is this where I’m supposed to look at you expectantly?” Caitlin asked.
“Yes. Try harder.” Lucas placed his mug between his thighs and clapped his hands together to signify, presumably, that he wanted everyone’s attention. “First, you need a little background. You’ve all heard the campus is haunted, right?” He waited for some sign that they knew what he was talking about, but only Allison responded in the affirmative.
“Haunted?” Caitlin said. “Did I hear that right?”
“Have you all been living in a cave?” Lucas shook his head like he was dealing with a bunch of imbeciles. “You really didn’t know that? Do you know anything at all about the school you attend?” Allison nodded. Everyone else competed for the blankest stare. “Well, you must’ve noticed the campus is a little weird?”
“Weird like how?” Harper uncrossed her legs and leaned forward in her chair, folding her fingers around her mug.
“For starters,” Lucas said, “none of it makes sense. The buildings are all out of proportion. Haven’t you noticed? Like Jacobs, Stamford or Madras? I think maybe LaPine too. The top two floors are all closed off. How about Stubbins Stadium? There’s maybe three thousand kids here and the stadium holds like a billion people. And the team sucks.” He glanced at Felix, giving him a chagrined smile. “Sorry, dude. That last game was tough to watch. And what about the Old Campus? You couldn’t have missed that. There’s a reason everyone calls it the dead campus. It’s like it died and was left here to rot.”
Caitlin sighed. “I know where the Old Campus is. I just haven’t seen it, you know, up close.”
“Well, it’s gated off,” Allison said. “The buildings haven’t been used in, I don’t know, sixty or seventy years.”
“Why don’t they do something with them?” Harper asked.
“They’re falling apart,” Lucas said. “And the school’s already got too much space as it is.”
“And they can’t tear them down even if they wanted to,” Allison added. “They’re historical landmarks. But they can’t be used for anything—not even tours—because the insides are so bad. It’s too dangerous.”
“And they’re haunted,” Lucas said. “I’m totally serious. Tyler used to talk about it all the time.”
“Am I supposed to know who Tyler is?” Caitlin said with a smirk, then drank from her mug which looked even more oversized in her small hands.
“My oldest brother. Tyler, Dale and Bret—my older brothers—all went here. Tyler told me the frats used to take their pledges to the Old Campus to haze them. But they stopped because some weird shit started happening. They saw things. You know, ghostly things: women dressed all in white floating through the buildings. Scary shit. And check this out—Tyler lost a bet and had to walk through the Old Campus at night. He said it was the scariest thing he’s ever done. That he felt like something was going to kill him.”
“Please!” Caitlin let out an exaggerated yawn.
“Then there’s the tunnels,” Lucas said, giving Caitlin a sharp look.
“The buildings are all connected by tunnels,” Allison said, sounding excited. “During World War Two, the administration thought the school might be a target for Japanese bombers, so they built an underground network that connects them all.”
Lucas looked at Allison and nodded. “And I’ve heard some even connect to buildings off campus.”
“Seriously?” Harper smiled at Felix like they were privy to some inside joke. He smiled back like he knew what they were in on.
“It’s a fact,” Allison insisted. “The tunnels exist. They’re all locked up and the entrance points are sealed. Nobody’ll tell you how to get to them because the school doesn’t want anyone going down there.”
“Who’d wanna do that?” Felix asked.
“You’d be surprised,” Allison replied. “The people who chase ghosts and look for signs of the supernatural are always asking the school for permission to have a look around. The school always tells them no—of course.”
Caitlin groaned. “It’s not that I don’t believe you about the buildings and the tunnels and all that. But there’s no such thing as ghosts.” She paused, looking at Lucas over the rim of her mug. “Or the supernatural.”
“What if I could prove it?” Lucas said to her. If he was joking, he gave no sign of it. The problem with Lucas was he joked around so much that on those rare occasions when he was being serious, nobody believed him.
“Prove what?” Caitlin asked doubtfully. “That there’s a ghost on campus?”
“No,” Lucas said. “That there are secret rooms on campus.”
“Really?” Harper gave him a skeptical look.
Lucas nodded. “But you have to promise you won’t tell anyone. Or show anyone. Okay?”
They finished their coffees and agreed to Lucas’s terms—even though they all thought he was messing with them. So with Lucas leading the way, they filed out of the bistro and set off along the south side of the Courtyard toward a plaza where all footpaths originated, spinning off in all directions and reconnecting throughout the campus like a spider’s web. The moon was bright and up high in a cloudless sky. The days were getting shorter and colder and the leaves were just starting to turn from green to brilliant shades of yellow, orange, and red. Felix dug his hands into the pockets of his worn jeans, wishing he’d put on a sweatshirt. The pathlights glowed softly overhead.
“Where are we going?” Caitlin asked as they approached a Gothic clock tower (marking the halfway point between the Student Center and Woodrow Library) that bore a striking resemblance to the Elizabeth Tower, the keeper of Big Ben. The tallest structure on campus by at least fifty feet, it was sometimes referred to as the Clock Tower or the Campus Phallus, but usually it went by Little Ben.
“The library,” Lucas answered.
“Huh?” Caitlin gave Lucas a withering glance. “Um… you do realize we’ve been to the library before? We go there just about every night. In fact, we were there last night. Even an oversexed reality star like you should be able to remember that.”
Lucas smiled at her like she was an annoying but still beloved pet.
They entered the library and headed for the main staircase. It was a busy night. All the reading tables were packed, every chair taken. The first floor’s communal tables were popular because you could see who was coming and going; as soon as you walked in, a hundred heads lifted up from books and phones and laptop screens to check you out. They never studied there—the girls hated the distractions (and the ogling). The private rooms on the top two floors were much quieter, and a much better option, if you weren’t there for the social scene.
“We’re goin
g up.” Lucas bounded up the stairs in twos and threes. They all gave each other a look that said why are we letting him do this to us? But a moment later, they followed after him. When they reached the third floor, Lucas held up one arm like a pre-school teacher waiting for his students to assemble. The floor was deserted, as it almost always was. On occasion you might find a few students using one of the private rooms, but that was about it; it was a morgue compared to the lower levels.
“Okay, can anyone tell me how many floors are in the library?” Lucas asked.
“Three,” Caitlin answered quickly.
“Why do you think that?” Lucas said to her.
“Uh, because that’s how many there are,” she replied, like she was trying to explain something to a dimwit. “The stairs stop here.” She pointed at them. “We’re on the third floor. And the elevator only goes up to three.”
“Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out.” Lucas broke into a mischievous grin. “Try to keep up.” He started off at a trot with everyone in tow, passing rows of carrels and well-lit study tables, then he made his way through a long aisle formed by the tall bookcases. When he reached the end of the aisle, he took a right down a different aisle, and when the complaints from Caitlin and Harper started to rise in volume, he turned left down yet another aisle.
Felix had been here before. Just once. But it was recent. About a week and half ago, he’d been on his way back to the dorm after his Economics class when he saw a kid from his high school. The kid—his name was Travis—saw Felix and started to wave. Then Travis did an abrupt about face and ran off like a field mouse sensing the approach of a low flying hawk. Felix didn’t blame him; he figured the kid was just uncomfortable and didn’t know what to say to him about his parents. But seeing the look on Travis’s face had flipped a switch inside him. Everything—the sadness, the guilt, the confusion, the whole torturous ball of poisonous sorrow—came rushing back, as fresh as the day the ambulance had carried him off to the hospital drugged and strapped down to the gurney like a violent criminal. Felix had found a quiet corner on this floor where he’d put his head down and retreated into his gloom, mourning for a home that no longer existed, trying to ride out the storm. He’d missed two classes—Western Civ and Psychology—and showed up late for football practice, but by dinner, he was stable enough to pretend like he was as sane and well-adjusted as everyone else.
“So what do you have to say about this?” Lucas asked as he finally came to a stop. He gestured theatrically, then turned to the side so that everyone could see what was behind him. This turned out to be a doorway cordoned off with a black and white laminated sign that read NOT AN EXIT—DO NOT ENTER—STAFF ONLY. The sign looked like it had been printed before any of them were born.
“What’s in there?” Caitlin whispered, peering into the doorway.
“Are those stairs?” Allison asked and swiftly hopped over the rope before Lucas could hold her back. She faded into the shadows, then returned a moment later with a smile flashing across her face. “There are stairs in here. But they only go up.” She raised a finger toward the ceiling and smiled.
“I thought this was my show,” Lucas muttered as he stepped over the rope. “Come on.” He motioned for them to follow. “But be careful. They took out the bulbs to prevent people like us from noticing this and doing exactly what we’re doing right now.”
“You sure this is okay?” Felix glanced around to make sure nobody was watching. “What if someone sees us?”
“They won’t,” Lucas replied. “I’ll tell you why in a minute. Come on.”
When they were all in the stairwell, they gathered around Lucas in a half circle. The air was cool but dry. It reminded Felix of being in his parents’ unfinished basement with the lights turned off, which happened occasionally because the switches tended to short out.
“Isn’t it strange that the stairs don’t go down?” Caitlin asked in a hushed voice, her eyes wide.
“That’s very perceptive of you,” Lucas said sarcastically. “Of course it’s strange. But just wait ‘til we get to the top. I’ll show you strange. C’mon.”
Lucas started up. Felix waited, falling in behind the girls, their stuttering footsteps sounding loud and drum-like. The stairwell was narrow, the ceiling low, the stairs steep. Before long, they reached a landing that connected to another flight of stairs at a right angle, cutting off the light from the third floor as effectively as a vault. Felix bumped into someone in front of him. Whoever it was—he hoped it was Harper—slowed down as if they were waiting for him to catch up.
Felix felt fingers curling around his bare arm. “Who’s that?” he asked, keeping his voice low.
“Me.” Harper’s voice. His pulse raced a few beats faster than before.
“Maybe we should go back,” Harper said to him softly. She sounded scared.
“It’ll be fine.” Felix tried to sound nonchalant. He was curious about where Lucas was leading them, but he was more focused on Harper brushing up against him every time they went up a step together.
Lucas said something that was lost amidst the echoes of scuffling feet and Caitlin huffing about not being able to see anything. There was the sound of a doorknob turning and squeaky hinges in dire need of WD-40. Then the stairwell was suddenly illuminated in a faint yellowish light.
“Here we are,” Lucas announced grandly, stepping through the doorway. “Welcome to the fourth floor.”
“Just a bunch of bookcases,” Caitlin grumbled sourly as if she was trying hard to sound unimpressed.
“On this side, yeah,” Lucas responded, his voice slightly defensive. “We are in a library, ya know. This floor’s just like the others. We’re in the back, so it’s just bookcases from one end to the other. On the other side—in the front part—there are study tables and some private rooms.”
“It’s pretty dark,” Felix said as he passed through the doorway with Harper. She’d already let go of his arm and was rejoining Caitlin.
“And dirty,” Allison added, running her fingers along a shelf. She wiped the dust off on her jeans. “I guess they don’t do much cleaning up here.”
Lucas shook his head. “They don’t do much of anything up here. Check out the bulbs.” They did. Several were out.
“Look at the floors.” Harper cringed, pointing at the herringbone patterned hardwoods caked in a dense layer of dust. “They’re filthy.”
“Like I said, nobody comes up here.”
“So what’s the story?” Allison asked Lucas. “How come no one knows about this?”
“It’s haunted,” Lucas said simply.
“Wow!” Allison said, her eyes shining with excitement. “Why? Why’s it haunted?”
“That’s a very good question,” Lucas said slowly. Then very abruptly, and very stiffly, he turned his back and walked briskly away like an English gentleman out for his morning constitutional.
“Hey!” Caitlin called after him in a panicked voice. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“I’d keep up if I were you,” Lucas said without turning his head. “This place is haunted!”
Caitlin and Harper took off after Lucas while Felix and Allison lagged slightly behind, drifting past bookcases and aisles that seemed to go on for miles. The scale of this floor was somehow different than the others, bigger; even the ceilings looked higher.
Up ahead of everyone, Lucas had stopped in front of a bookshelf. He was staring at it, his head held to the side, at an angle, like he was clearing water from his ears. He started poking at the wood trim and taking out books and putting them back in their slots, seemingly at random.
“What the hell’s he up to?” Allison asked as they caught up with Caitlin and Harper.
“No idea,” Felix said.
Harper and Caitlin shrugged.
They all stood there for a while watching Lucas doing whatever it was he was doing. Harper hugged her arms across her chest and tapped her foot nervously. Caitlin reached out and traced her fingers along one of
the dusty covers and said, “Latin.”
“How do you know?” Felix asked.
“Ten years of Catholic school.”
“This is it!” Lucas turned around to face everyone, slapping his hands together. A little cloud of yellow tinted dust danced in the space between them.
Harper coughed, annoyed, batting at the iridescent particles.
“Where were we?” Lucas asked. “Oh yes—Allison’s question. Well, back in the nineteen forties or fifties, they made the library bigger. This whole floor was added on top of the old library. Anyway, there was this accident with a crane or something, and these four guys working here were killed when everything crashed down on them. Right here on this floor where we’re all standing right now four guys were crushed to death.”
Lucas paused, waiting for a reaction.
“So let me guess,” Caitlin said in her I-think-that’s-the-most-ridiculous-thing-I’ve-ever-heard voice. “It’s the spirits of these dead guys who are haunting the library?”
“There’s more to it than that,” Lucas told her. “The four guys were all Indians. You know—Native Americans. Not the dudes from Asia. After it happened, there was this big investigation, and the head Indian guy, the chief or whatever he’s called, claimed the four men were working in really shitty conditions because they were Indians and the white dudes working here had it much better.”
“That wouldn’t surprise me a bit.” Caitlin folded her arms, her expression a disapproving scowl.
“PC paid off a bunch of people,” Lucas went on. “That’s the rumor. You know—important dudes, like judges and Senators. And the Indians got the shaft.”