An alert chimed on her computer and she was reminded of Latif’s ability to make things work. Blaire looked over to see that a message from Emma was waiting for her.
She opened the blinking electronic box.
“Hey! How is it going?”
“Okay,” Blaire typed back, the clicks of her computer keys sounded harsh against the backdrop of the room whose only soundtrack was the steady pattering of the rain.
“…?” her screen read moments later.
“Things are okay, but not great,” Blaire admitted.
“What do you mean? Great is a lot to expect sometimes,” Emma assured her.
“The kids’ progress has seemed slow lately, so it just feels bleak. Travis has not been feeling too well either,” Blaire replied.
In the back of the room, one of the children raised her hand and asked Blaire if she could go to the bathroom.
Blaire waved her a go-ahead.
Her computer dinged with a reply. “What you are going through is normal. We went over this in orientation. Many of our volunteers go through it. Once the initial romance of the adventure passes and reality sets in, volunteers have been known to experience a period of mild depression. Same thing for Travis, sometimes along with the adverse psychological reaction people often exhibit a physical reaction that manifests itself with symptoms of fatigue, vomiting, and aching joints. Does that sound familiar?”
It did.
“It will pass, Blaire,” Emma said, as she explained it all away. She was very good at doing that, which is why she moved up in the organization so quickly. While Blaire appreciated her reassurances, she realized that Emma no longer went on tours and imagined that was for a good reason, because Emma was aware of how harsh this experience could be.
“You and Travis will be fine I promise you. However, if in a couple of days you are still feeling the same way, we can discuss bringing you home.”
Blaire tensed and felt her throat drying up. Emma’s suggestion that she come home early made Blaire feel weak. It was insulting, and she hated the insinuation.
You can’t escape the curse.
Blaire shook her aunt Bella’s words from her head. She couldn’t leave; she wouldn’t leave until the job was done.
“No! I would never do that. I am just venting. We will be fine,” Blaire typed, quickly logging off of her computer.
“Children, I am going to step out for a moment. Everyone stay in your seats and continue working quietly.” Blaire headed to the kitchen to refill her coffee cup.
She passed by Travis’ office, where she looked in the open door and spied one of the girls who lately had complained of feeling sick, sitting on his examining table. Travis was peering into her ear with a small light. She noticed that his eyes were dull and dark circles were taking root under them.
In the kitchen, Blaire freshened up her coffee and headed back.
As she turned the corner to trudge that last corridor before entering her classroom, she passed Hannah and wondered what she was doing in this hallway as there was little else there besides Blaire’s classroom and a storage closet. Hannah’s long red hair bounced behind her, and her gray eyes watched Blaire closely. Hannah was unusually cold and muttered some indecipherable greeting. Blaire kept suspicious eyes on her until the fiery-headed woman disappeared around the corner and out of sight.
As Blaire reentered her classroom, a feeling of dread surged through her. All eyes in the classroom grabbed like hissing snakes stretching out from their sockets, coiling around her. Thunder from the storm crashed into the building like a Mack truck, rattling everything inside. A moment later there was a second crashing but not from the storm, it was loud and close, inside of the room. Blaire looked down to see brown liquid jump across the floor in every direction as the broken pieces of the coffee cup blew apart upon hitting the hard surface. She had not even felt the cup slip from her grip.
Natalka, who had been sitting in the corner reading before Blaire left, now rested her book on her lap and was staring idly into space, rocking back and forth at a methodical pace. She was lost in the other world of St. Sebastian, the bad place, the bizarre side that could not be seen with the sane eye.
Blaire raced over to the girl, grabbed her, and shook her roughly. “Don’t do that!” Blaire snapped, alarmed by her own rage.
Natalka looked up at her teacher with eyes that were empty circles.
What are you doing? Blaire asked herself, yanking her hands away from the girl’s shoulders. Blaire was sick with thoughts of impotence, and then she whipped around at the screeching of Andre who was struck by a bout of relentless pain. Dariya started to scream in short sporadic bursts, and Danya watched something closely, real or imagined, that lurked outside the window, and the others rocked. They were all rocking slowly in the comforting arms of their own madness.
Ivan’s voice cut through the noise, speaking to himself in a chanting whisper, but his words seemed amplified as if they were being spoken directly into her brain.
Mommy, mommy, take me home, far away from the unknown. Pick me up and fly away into the light of another day. Rescue me from the halls of the haunted, the desperate, the evil, unloved, and unwanted. Ivan finished the chant and began again.
Blaire turned back to Natalka, who was rocking again, now more furiously than before. With the noise of the unwanted children plowing into her head, Blaire felt the room begin to spin, and she could not think or speak or focus. She could not even breathe. She drove her fingers into her hair, grasping her scalp, trying to make it all go away.
Jump, jump, jump, she could hear the wicked girls whispering in her ear.
“STOP!” the young teacher yelled as she fled the classroom, running down the hall into the bathroom, where she locked herself in a stall and pressed her face into her palms, sobbing loudly.
After several minutes she managed to compose herself, and, when she returned to class, she was shocked at how fast normalcy had been restored. Some of the kids were coloring and others were reading, and she wondered if what happened was all in her head.
“I’m sorry for stepping out of class,” Blaire said, but no one responded.
Blaire sighed. She looked at their little faces and forced herself to recognize how lucky she was to be having this time with them. They were children who took so much joy from a good meal and pink eye shadow, children who had been cast off like yesterday’s trash. She wanted to do something for them. She was doing as much as she could, but it was not enough.
“I have decided that since you have all been such wonderful students, we should have a big party,” she announced.
Their laughter and excitement immediately filled the room.
“What kind of party?” Andre asked.
“Hmmm,” Blaire thought. “How about a costume party?”
Andre’s mouth shaped into an “O” of delight.
“At the end of the month, Ms. Baker is going to throw you all a grand costume party!” she announced, as the children began to applaud eagerly. As Blaire turned back to her desk, she put her hand to her chest, startled by Travis’ abrupt appearance and the sound of his clapping. Blaire grabbed a roll of paper towels from her desk, pulled off a handful and began to wipe up her coffee just as Anya arrived to escort the children to their playtime.
Travis saw the mess and bent to pick up pieces of the shattered mug.
“Class dismissed,” Blaire announced.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
That night as Blaire read in bed there was a tapping on the door. Travis seemed not to notice as he fiddled with his earphones.
“Come in,” Blaire said. Travis looked up from his project. As the crystal knob twisted and the door sailed opened slowly, a small shadow emerged into the soft glow of light from their room.
“Natalka,” Blaire said, resting her book on the bed. The young girl smiled brightly. She stood there in the pretty pink pajamas that, thanks to Blaire, she now owned.
“Hi,” she beamed.
“W
hat are you doing up here?” Blaire asked. “You should be in bed.”
“We’re not in bed yet. I just brought you something,” Natalka said, holding out a plate.
“Cookies! Thank you, Natalka,” Blaire gasped with a laugh as she got up and accepted the desserts.
“Thanks,” Travis said. “Hit me!”
Blaire handed him the plate of sweets.
“I just wanted to tell you thank you for all of the things that you bought for us and for everything that you have done for us.”
“You’re welcome,” Blaire responded. “Are you okay?”
The girl nodded up and down. Blaire didn’t believe her, but she didn’t push.
“You know you can talk to me, right?” Blaire asked.
The girl nodded.
“Thank you, again,” Blaire said, bending to give the girl a hug. “Goodnight.”
Natalka turned to leave the room, and as Blaire grabbed the door knob to push the door closed, she hesitated, and then spoke, “Natalka…”
The girl turned to face her.
“Next time, make sure you catch us when we are downstairs. You are not supposed to be on the third floor, okay?”
“Okay,” Natalka answered, before starting back down the dark hall. Blaire looked to Travis who was already on his second cookie, which he held up in cheers. Peeking down the hall, Blaire watched as Natalka made her way toward the steps. Her footsteps were calculated, one after the other until she came to room 3C. Natalka stopped and walked a path slightly to the right making a semicircle in a deliberate effort to pass by the door as far from it as possible.
“What’s wrong?” Travis asked as he handed her the plate of cookies.
“Nothing.”
At 2:00 a.m. Blaire woke abruptly. She sat up in bed wondering only for a moment what woke her until she heard it again.
Blaire sighed and thought, The rat traps had managed to catch everything in this place including her hand, but still no rats.
Travis slept soundly and even offered a shallow snore. Blaire jumped at the sound of an odd noise. Her eyes shot up to the ceiling at the chilling thought that someone was on the roof again, and then she looked to her dresser where her keys sat glimmering in the moonlight. Listening intently, she realized that something was being dragged across the floor. Blaire unlocked her door and peeped out into the hall. Anya was the other resident on the premises that night, but her door was shut securely. The noise sounded again. There was someone in room 3C, and she began to inch down the hall. The door was slightly ajar, so she leaned in to listen more closely and heard the screech of furniture moving across the floor. Sweat was beading across her brow when the door swiftly whipped to a close, brutally smacking her in the face.
“Who’s in here?” Blaire said. Pressing her fingertips to the spot on her face that had just been assaulted, she let out a moan as it was already sore.
Blaire grabbed the knob of the door and turned it back and forth rapidly, causing it to jangle loudly, but it was locked. Soft humming floated out from room 3C. Blaire jogged back to her room, grabbed her keys from the dresser and was back at the door of the vacant room within seconds. She fiddled with her mess of keys, trying different ones in the lock.
“You open this door and let me in right this moment or you will be sorry!” she yelled. Her impetus being to never let something even remotely similar to what happened with Ivan ever happen again.
The humming ceased, but the shriek of metal furniture dragging across the floor made Blaire hop back. For a moment there was silence, and then the door glided open.
An authoritative Blaire marched into the room. Silver rays of light filled the four walls through the uncovered window and murmurs funneled through the vents just low enough not to be detected by her human ear. The room was completely empty except for an iron bed frame, which was missing its mattress, and a wooden dresser.
Blaire turned to the closet. “Who’s in there?”
She reached out for the knob and pulled the door open. The garish creak of the door covered the low growl of something sinister. Her eyes searched the closet, but it was empty. Something swept by her back so closely that she felt the soft swoosh of air created by the movement, and she whipped around, but there was nothing. Blaire went to the windows and confirmed that they were closed and locked. She pressed her hands against the pane of glass. It was cold but alive, pulsing with the dreadful heartbeat of St. Sebastian. Blaire’s eyes trailed across the rusted-out pool and the desolate lawn until they landed on the holy statue whose face seemed to turn and look up at her, causing Blaire to stumble back, and then she heard the voices.
Blaire!
There’s something in the basement. Don’t look now.
Don’t go down there!
Help us!
Come and play with us, Blaire!
BLAIRE! her mother called.
With their relentless bombarding, the mysterious voices made her nauseous, and she grabbed her stomach, managing to hold back whatever was creeping up out of her throat. The voices were coming from the floor; she dropped to her knees and peered into the obscure vent.
“Hello?” she spoke.
Don’t go down there! Jump! Jump! Jump! Help us!
She’s coming!
“Hello?” Blaire called again. It was coming…something was pulsing up through the vent. Something was coming for her, and then it hit her hard.
“Ugh!” Blaire yelped. She abruptly turned her head away from the vent as the putrid aroma of rotted meat and garbage blasted her. In the middle of the floor, the dark stain began to spread, pulsing to life.
The door slammed and the iron bed frame slid across the floor planting itself in front of the door, blocking her exit. Crawling across the floor and scrambling to get to her feet, she wedged herself between the railing of the bed and the wall. She pushed with all of her strength to get the frame away from the door, but she was hardly a match for the invisible force that pressed back. The stain in the floor was large now, pumping hard and spreading eagerly toward her. Blaire’s arms were beginning to weaken, and she could hardly breathe from the vulgar odor that had all but filled the room, blocking out all the clean air. As the stain protruded from the floor, growing up vertically into the air, Blaire tried to scream, but nothing came out.
She had to get out now. With a deep grunt, she pushed harder. The bed frame slid a couple of feet, and Blaire went for the door that was now locked. Sweat dripped down her body as she used every muscle, fighting against whatever energy was keeping the door closed tight, her feet sliding as she pulled with all of her power. Blaire let out a cry in surprise when the door finally gave and flew open. She fell backward, but got to her feet quickly and ejected herself from the room, sliding across the slippery hall floor. She turned back to face the room just as the door slammed violently shut, and she heard again the recognizable scraping as the bed slid across the floor, placing itself staunchly back in front of the door on the other side.
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
“So tell me again how you ended up in a fight with a door?” Travis asked as he placed an ice pack on Blaire’s bruised face.
“Travis, there was something in there, I swear. I heard voices. The door wouldn’t open, the bed moved on its own, for God’s sake.” Blaire had purposely left out what happened with the stain in the floor as that sounded irrational, even to her.
“Maybe the building is at a slight tilt or something, and that’s why the bed slid,” Travis said, rationalizing as he headed down the hall for breakfast, with Blaire following closely behind him.
Travis coughed into his hand, and then wiped beads of moisture from his brow.
“Are you okay?” she asked. “You look awful.”
“Just catching a cold.”
“Oh,” Blaire said, and then continued. “If the building is at a slant, then why aren’t our beds sliding?”
“I don’t know. I’m a nurse, not a scientist. Besides, I didn’t hear anything.”
“Yo
u sleep like the dead.”
“Blaire, I went in there this morning after you told me what happened, and there was just nothing in there, nothing out of place, nothing at all.”
“You think I’m making this up? How do you think I got this black eye?”
“Maybe you’re having some form of night terrors, waking dreams. Maybe you have just become overly sensitive to your environment because what happened with Ivan is still having a big psychological effect on you.”
His words made Blaire stop dead in the hallway. “That’s brutal,” she said, and Travis turned to her.
“I didn’t mean anything by that, Blaire,” Travis assured her. “I mean…what are you saying? Please don’t tell me that you think this place is haunted or something ridiculous. Aren’t I supposed to be the overly sensitive one that’s afraid of ghosts?”
“I’m NOT saying there are ghosts. I don’t believe in ghosts, I’m just saying that some—”
“Oh, my God,” Travis interrupted when he saw Bo, who was also heading toward the lunch room. He knelt to perform a closer examination of Bo’s purple, swollen eye.
“What happened to your face, Bo?” Blaire asked.
The boy stared at her blankly.
“Who did this?” Blaire asked again. “Was it a student?”
Bo nodded left to right.
“A teacher?”
No response.
“I think you’re right, Travis,” Blaire said.
“About what?” Travis studied the boy making sure that he had no other injuries.
“I think that the most mysterious happenings in this place are the work of real live people, not any ghosts!” Blaire could feel her cheeks burning.
“Bo, go to breakfast. Travis, come with me.” Blaire dealt out commands like a general. The boy slouched away, and Travis tried hard to keep up with Blaire, who was already halfway down the hallway.
The Unwanted (Black Water Tales Book 2) Page 14