We Came Back

by Patrick Lacey

  Frank didn’t have the heart to tell Justin that once this was over, once Busty was out of the picture, he didn’t intend to let Justin back into the picture. His daughter had had enough drama for one year. She needed to focus on her grades instead of boys. But he’d cross that bridge when the time came.

  “Well,” Frank said. “Did you find anything out?”

  “Sure, I found plenty out but not the kind of stuff you were looking for.”

  “How do you mean?”

  Justin sipped his soda and leaned against his father’s headstone. Every now and then he rubbed it without noticing. “I mean he seems clean. Never got in trouble. Had great grades. Never got picked on like Melvin. His mother claims he used to dress completely normal until about a year ago, when he showed up at her front door looking like his brother reincarnated.”

  A cool breeze blew through the cemetery. Frank couldn’t help but shiver. He would’ve liked to blame it on the temperature. “That’s it? That’s all you got?”

  Justin shook his head. “There’s one more thing. Something I don’t really know what to make of.”

  “Well come out with it. I’ve got papers to grade.” It had been hard to get any work done in between classes at school with the vampires growing in number. He’d managed to get through a stack of quizzes at the dinner table until Alyssa and Mona had gotten into an argument—the third that week—and he wasn’t about to set foot in his office.

  His yearbook still lay on the floor, untouched since the incident last week.

  You mean when it talked to you?

  He shivered once more, told himself he’d just been imagining things, stressed out to the max. This time the air was still, no breeze in sight.

  “She could’ve been lying,” Justin said, pacing back and forth. “It’s possible. But what would she have to gain?”

  “Will you just tell me what the hell you’re talking about?”

  He finally stopped. “She said Busty was gay.”

  “Gay?”

  He nodded. “Said he came out in high school and everyone was supportive.”

  “But that’s obviously not the truth. If he was gay, why the hell would he be dating my daughter?”

  “That’s what I can’t figure out,” Justin said. “I don’t know what it means but I think you’ll agree things have been a bit… odd lately.”

  Frank nodded. “You can say that again.”

  “First we have Busty who shows up at your front door looking like the ghost of Melvin. He has no reason to move back to Lynnwood, no ties here besides what happened at the old high school. Then we have these students forming a cult.”

  “Probably just a phase,” Frank said, not even convincing himself.

  “Then we have the fact that you were on lunch duty the day Melvin committed suicide. You said you turned your head, for lack of a better term, to some of the bullying.”

  Frank swallowed and nodded.

  “I couldn’t say exactly how everything’s connected but it’s all too convenient.”

  “I guess you’re right,” Frank said. “But in a way, I should be relieved. If my daughter’s boyfriend is gay, I don’t have a whole lot to worry about.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure,” Justin said. He picked up the bottle and tapped it nervously, his hands fidgeting.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean what if Busty just wants to get close to her for some reason?”

  “What reason would that be?”

  Justin shrugged, didn’t have an answer for him.

  The breeze picked up again, this time much cooler. Frank’s skin prickled, every hair standing on end.

  ●●●

  That night, just past eleven-thirty, a Jeep pulled up outside the old Lynnwood High School. Music blared from its speakers, cutting into the silence of the parking lot. If anything nearby made noise, it was lost in the drums and bass.

  “We made it!” Mack Oliver said as he parked the Jeep.

  “Will you turn this shit down?” Mariah said from the back. She covered her ears with both hands as if speaking over a jet engine.

  “It adds to the ambience,” Mack said.

  “It sounds like shit. What the hell is it, anyway?”

  “Don’t you recognize it? The theme from The Exorcist? It’s a dub step remix.”

  Mariah pretended to gag. “Turn it off before I puke.”

  Mack looked to the passenger seat, hoping to get some support from Luke, but his friend just shrugged. “The girl’s got a point. It sounds pretty bad.”

  “You guys just don’t know how to have fun.” Mack turned off his iPod and cut the engine.

  His ears rang for a moment but when the sound faded he heard the exact opposite of the city back home, the constant traffic and honking horns. He heard nothing, not even crickets. It unsettled him, thinking of all the things that could be hiding out there. The darkness was thick and it seemed to cover everything like molasses, practically oozing. His skin came alive with electricity and though he wouldn’t admit it out loud, he was on edge.

  Maybe even scared.

  Which fit the mood perfectly when you considered the ghost hunting equipment packed into the back of the jeep: PK meters, handheld voice recorders, several GoPro’s, and even a pair of night vision goggles he’d gotten for a steal at his local army and navy store.

  They called themselves the Three Amighosts, amateur ghost hunters who had been traveling around New York and New England for the last two years, trying to find a hot—or cold, if you like—spot of spiritual activity. Ever since childhood, Mack had been fascinated with the subject. When he was six, he’d woken in the middle of the night to an apparition standing over his bed. It resembled an old woman, with an elongated nose not unlike a witch and skin so wrinkled you could hide coins in its deep ridges. He had screamed, certain he was asleep, but the thing had stayed there for a full minute until his mother came to check on him. It had been long enough for him to question what he’d seen, long enough to confirm it was real.

  In college, he got together with Mariah and Luke and they’d investigated over thirty locations, all of them turning up nothing, but tonight he had a good feeling. Tonight, he told himself, he’d finally have another glimpse at the other side.

  He imagined the apparition from his childhood stepping out of the school’s front door and waving him on.

  “Are we ready or what?” Mariah said.

  Mack tensed, startled out of his thoughts, his head hitting the driver’s side window. “Jesus, you scared the shit out of me.”

  “I thought you didn’t get scared,” she said, mocking him. She lowered her voice to mimic his. “There’s no need to be frightened. Ghosts can’t hurt you. They’re just snapshots of something that hasn’t crossed over yet.” Her voice returned to normal. “You ask me, you looked pretty scared just then.”

  He looked to Luke again for relief, but his friend shrugged once more. “What can I say? The girl does a spot-on impression of you.”

  Mack rolled his eyes. “If you’re all done shitting on me, let’s get the gear ready. We’ve got a haunted school to explore.”

  They got out of the Jeep, opened the back door, and grabbed the gear. Each of them turned on a flashlight but the beams did little to cut through the darkness. It was heavy somehow, like fog or mist, and Mack had to squint to make out details.

  He expected the front door to be locked, had brought several pieces of lock-picking equipment, a crowbar, and, if there was a chain to be cut, a pair of clippers, but he was surprised when he saw the door was slightly ajar, a long rectangle of blackness peeking from inside.

  With his foot, he pushed the door forward. Its hinges were rusty with age. He wondered when this place had last been occupied. Did anyone from the city come and check on it, just to make sure the walls were still standing? He had a feeling most people, government officials or not, avoided this place at all costs.

  He couldn’t blame them.

  When the door’s hing
es finished shrieking, the sound high and distorted like a hyena, he waved Mariah and Luke on, told them to set up a camera in the entryway.

  While they worked, he filmed with his handheld. It was an odd layout. Instead of a foyer or a hall, they were greeted with a stairwell, as if the back of the school had shifted places. It gave the appearance of a labyrinth, like they were in between floors somehow. He felt dizzy, disoriented, and for a moment he thought about turning around.

  Don‘t be stupid. This is it, the one, the place you’ve been waiting for.

  And then there was the issue of Mariah. He’d already made a fool out of himself screaming in the car earlier. He didn’t want to seem even more pathetic. If all went according to plan, they’d capture some solid evidence tonight and he’d finally prove to Mariah that he wasn’t some hack chasing after something that didn’t exist. Then she’d have no choice but to go out with him.

  He turned around and watched her set up the camera, tried not to seem too obvious. A few months back, after a night of drinking and watching horror movies, they’d slept together while Luke was passed out on the couch. It had been quick and rough, nothing like he’d imagined their first time would be—and he imagined it quite often. He’d hoped there would be more times, that they’d enter a lifelong relationship, two ghost hunters of a perfect pair.

  But the next morning he woke to an empty bed. She’d never mentioned the incident again and each time he brought it up she quickly changed the subject.

  “See anything good?” she said, catching him staring.

  He tensed and pretended to look at the graffiti on the wall behind her. “Yeah, I think I do.” He shined the beam upward, revealing a crude drawing of two giant breasts. Underneath were four words: cum on my tits.

  “Real nice,” she said, turning around and observing the drawing.

  “Where should we start?” Luke said, double-checking the camera and giving the thumbs up. He was the quietest of their group, never speaking more than a few sentences at a time. To be honest, Mack didn’t know all that much about the guy despite being friends for the past five years, but he was damned good at his job and that was all that mattered at a time like this.

  “I say we go to the epicenter,” Mack said. “Where it happened.”

  “The cafeteria?” Mariah said. She didn’t sound so brave now.

  He nodded. “The cafeteria.”

  They walked down the first flight of stairs, stepped onto the main level, and went down a corridor. Just like the entryway, graffiti littered the walls, some of it looking fresh, like the space had been tagged only moments ago.

  Like the artists were hiding in one of the classrooms.

  Every now and then he shined his light in a room at random. He expected the place to be abandoned, bare walls and the occasional pile of trash, but he was surprised to find several of the classes still set up, desks in rows and mildewed books strewn about. For a nanosecond, he imagined a bell ringing, the tone distorted from lack of use, students barging down the halls for homeroom.

  At the end of the hall, they turned left and wound up at ground zero, the place he was certain they’d find their best evidence, where spirits surely flocked.

  The cafeteria.

  “So what exactly happened here?” Mariah said as they entered. She set her bags down and stretched.

  “I sent you the articles,” Mack said.

  “You know I hate reading.”

  “I talked about it on the ride here.”

  “You know I hate listening.”

  He sighed and set his own bags down, surveying the area. Like the classrooms they’d passed, the cafeteria seemed frozen in time. He imagined kids running and screaming at the sound of gunshots, abandoning the place like it was Chernobyl. Shouldn’t someone have come to throw all of this away? Shouldn’t the building have been torn down by now?

  “A kid blew his brains out right over there,” Luke said, pointing to a table near the front of the room.

  Mack nodded. “At least someone was listening.”

  “No shit,” Mariah set, setting up another camera. She pulled out a small handheld recorder and turned it on. Then she made her way to the spot where Luke had pointed. She started to speak into the microphone but stopped short. “Did you want the honor, fearless leader?”

  Mack set his own bag down and took the recorder from her. Their fingers touched and for a moment his body came alive with something other than fear. “If you don’t mind,” he said.

  “By all means. So what was the kid’s deal? Was he bonkers?”

  “From what I’ve read, he was bullied by just about everyone. Used to talk to himself in all his classes and draw these disturbing pictures.” From his pocket, he pulled out a printed image he’d almost forgotten about. “Here. I got this online.”

  Mariah gasped when she looked at the image. “I would’ve stayed as far away as possible if I caught someone drawing this.” She held it up for Luke to see.

  It was one of the kid’s drawings that had been taken from his notebook, a profile of some fat and gelatinous thing. Mack wasn’t sure how to classify it. There were tentacles and mouths—so many mouths. The skin was translucent, giving glimpses into what lay beneath: organs that didn’t seem fit for any human and veins that had no apparent direction. Worst were the eyes. They seemed to be the only thing remotely symmetric about the creature, two large ovals that were as black as the darkness that now surrounded them.

  Mack looked around, told himself there was nothing in here that would step out of the shadows.

  Are you an idiot? That’s exactly what you want to happen. Then you can call it a night, drive far away from this place, and politely ask Mariah to go steady with you.

  Luke didn’t say anything when he looked at the picture, only cleared his throat and got to unpacking more equipment. Mariah folded it again and handed it to Mack. He slid it into his pocket, wincing as he did so.

  Mack held up the recorder. “We ready?”

  Mariah nodded, looking through the lens of a camera. Luke did the same, grabbing a PK meter.

  Mack pressed the red record button. “This is Mack Oliver. I’m with Mariah Clancy and Luke Stanton. It’s Sunday, September 22nd and we’re here at the former Lynnwood High School, located in the Massachusetts town of the same name.”

  “Will you just get on with it?” Mariah said. “This is a ghost hunt, not an episode of Chronicle.”

  Mack waved her off and continued. “The spot where we’re standing is the approximate location where Melvin Brown committed suicide roughly ten years ago. I’m going to attempt to make contact with Melvin’s spirit by asking a series of questions, which we’ll then review later.”

  “We know the process.” Mariah walked toward a neighboring lunch table, zoomed in on what looked like an ancient ketchup stain. Or perhaps it was blood that had gone unnoticed after all these years.

  He continued. “Melvin, we’re not here to hurt you in any way. We understand that what you went through was horrific, that you never wanted to hurt anybody. We don’t think you’re a coward. We just want to have a conversation with you. So if you’re here in any capacity, please just give us a sign.”

  He held the recorder in the air, waiting for a response. In all their investigations, they’d only heard one EVP in the moment, a soft murmur that sounded vaguely female. The rest were caught post-investigation, usually single words that were only classified as evidence after discussions that often turned to arguments. Now, just as before, they heard nothing.

  Mack cleared his throat and tried another route. “Melvin, why did they pick on you so much? Why did the other students treat you like that? Was it just because you were different?”

  Nothing. He thought of the apparition from his childhood again and all of the disappointing investigations since. He wanted only to experience something on that level once more, to prove to himself that he wasn’t crazy. “Look, we’re here and we’re being nice to you, which is a lot more than your former students
can say. So give us a break, will you, and just let us know if you’re here.”

  “Jesus, don’t provoke the thing,” Mariah said. “That’s one of the golden rules, as you’re so fond of saying.”

  “She’s right.” Luke paced slowly. “You don’t want to piss it off.”

  “I’ve got to be honest,” Mack said. “This place may be creepy as hell, but I’m worried it isn’t here at all.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  Mack’s heart stopped. The voice was soft and raspy. He looked at Mariah and Luke but both of their mouths were pinned shut.

  “Was that…” he swallowed. “Was that you, Melvin?”

  “No, but you could call us family.”

  From the corner of the cafeteria, the spot where lunch had been served once upon a time, something moved in the sludge-like blackness.

  No, not a thing.

  Things.

  There were several of them, shadows that broke apart and separated themselves. They walked toward the group slowly, surveying them with each step. There were perhaps a dozen or more. For a moment Mack was ready to simultaneously scream and shout for joy. It had finally happened again. Just when he’d been ready to throw in the towel, he had himself another real experience.

  Then the things stepped even closer and he saw they were not ghosts but kids, teenagers that looked ready to attend a heavy metal concert. They wore leather jackets and black shirts that were ripped in many places. The girls had on fishnet stockings and one even wore a corset.

  Mack gritted his teeth. “Will you guys get the hell out of here? If you didn’t know, you’re trespassing.”

  “Awfully funny coming from you,” the closest one said, a girl with long, flowing black hair and skin the color of snow.

  “Look, we’re paranormal investigators. Professionals. And we have permission to be here.” In truth, it was a lie. He’d told Luke and Mariah that he’d received the city’s blessing to investigate but he hadn’t picked up the phone once. He’d suspected no one ever came here. Apparently, he was wrong.

  “By all means,” the girl said. “Investigate away but we can take you to him if you’d like.”