Berkley Street Series Books 1 - 9: Haunted House and Ghost Stories Collection

by Ron Ripley

  They can’t hurt me.

  But they did, Dane thought, reaching up and touching his sore, throbbing cheek. He hit me hard.

  “I need to leave,” Dane whispered. “I need to go back to my friends.”

  “No,” Clark stated. “There’s work here that needs doing. You look like a strong lad. Welcome to the Squirrel Island Lighthouse, boy.”

  “No,” Dane whispered, then screamed, “No!”

  He rushed for the stairs, but Clark met him there easily. The knife was a blur in Clark’s hand, and he stepped deftly to one side. A sharp, terrible pain erupted in Dane’s belly.

  Dane fell sideways, landed first on his knees, then his hip, and finally his side. His head thunked loudly against the wooden floor, and he panted as he lay there. Fearfully, he reached down, touched his stomach, felt a warm, sticky liquid, and let out a sob.

  When he brought his hand back up to examine it, he saw there was dark, rich blood upon it.

  “Careful, lad,” Clark said sympathetically. “It’s a wicked blow I’ve dealt you. Reach much farther down and you’ll feel your innards, which the Lord, in His magnificence, never meant for us to embrace.”

  Dane sobbed and felt something slip out of his stomach. He heard it slap wetly on the floor.

  I’m going to die here, Dane realized morosely. Oh God, I’m so sorry for everything I’ve done. I’m so, so sorry.

  “If you’re praying, son,” Clark said, putting his knife away and folding his arms over his chest as he stood there, “I’d say don’t waste your breath. You will not leave this place. No, you’re here forever, just like the rest of us. Since I’ve brought you over, though, well, you’ll be with me.”

  Clark grinned. “Which is good. We have a great deal of work to be done in this lighthouse if we’re to be getting it shipshape and Bristol fashion. Yes, a good deal of work.”

  Dane wanted to scream again, needed to scream again, but the pain was too intense. To even speak would have caused intense agony. Instead, all he could do was bleed out on the aged floor, and wait to die while his murderer kept a careful watch.

  Chapter 11: And So It Begins

  Shane stood on the pier and looked out at the yacht.

  I need to get them off of this island, he thought. This place is bad, and it’s going to be too much for them. Might be too much for me.

  He reached back, patted the iron knuckles in his pocket, and sighed.

  Yeah, Shane told himself, it’s going to get bad. I can feel it.

  A scream ripped out from behind him and Shane twisted around. Something stood at the top of the lighthouse. The shape was the barest hint of a person from where Shane was.

  Why in the hell would one of them scream like that?

  Courtney and Scott came out of the house, followed by the young woman, Eileen.

  But not Dane.

  Dane, Shane thought. He pulled the iron knuckles out, slipped them onto his right hand, and rushed up the slight incline to the lighthouse and found the door still locked. He kicked the door with all his strength, putting his foot close to the padlock. The force of his blow snapped the screws of the latch, and the wood ripped as the deadbolt tore through the aged and weathered wood.

  The door sprang inward, bounced off of the inner wall, and shivered to pieces. Only a long, ragged edge was left, hanging madly from the old rusted hinges. Shane ran straight for the stairs and raced up, ignoring the way the metal quivered beneath his feet, or how the old bolts in the brick walls groaned.

  Shane threw himself through the opening at the top of stairs and came to a sharp stop.

  Dane lay on the floor, eyes wide in death while blood leaked out onto the floor. The young man’s guts were in a slipshod pile, spilling out of the gaping hole in the boy’s belly.

  Shane’s attention snapped from the dead youth to the ghost who stood off to one side, close to the mammoth lantern which served as the lighthouse’s beacon.

  The man smiled at Shane. “You’re a fighter.”

  Shane nodded.

  “They boy’s dead.”

  “So he is,” Shane said. “You killed him.”

  “It was required,” the man said soberly. “Name’s Clark. Clark Noyes. I’m the Keeper.”

  “Shane Ryan,” Shane replied. “I’m here to find out why that was required.”

  “You’ll need to speak to Dorothy,” Clark answered. “If Dorothy will speak to you. You’ve been to sea, and not like this lad. No pleasure trip, aye?”

  Below them, someone called his name and Shane yelled down, “Stay outside!”

  “What ship?” Clark asked pleasantly.

  “Depended on where I was and when,” Shane replied warily, trying to keep his attention from Dane’s pale, bloodless face. “Did a tour with the Sixth Fleet, though, Mediterranean.”

  “Sailor?”

  Shane shook his head. “Marine.”

  Clark grinned. “Excellent. Well, if you’ll excuse me, Shane, I’ve work to do, and so does this lad. As you can see, the lighthouse is in sorry shape. We’ll have her righted soon enough, though. That we will.”

  The man vanished.

  Work to do, Shane thought. He returned his gaze to Dane. The boy was dead. Undeniably so. But it seemed as though his spirit wouldn’t be allowed to leave.

  Dane had been enslaved.

  Chapter 12: Horror

  Scott stood outside the broken door of the lighthouse with both Courtney and Eileen. None of them spoke. They had all heard the scream. A terrible sound Scott was sure would haunt him for the rest of his life.

  When they had raced outside, they had seen Shane down on the pier.

  But no sign of Dane.

  None.

  Then Shane had run up to the lighthouse, kicked his way in, and gone after Dane. Scott and Eileen had hesitated at the entrance.

  Courtney had not.

  She had stepped into the old building and called up to Shane, who, in turn, had told them all to stay outside.

  And so Courtney had gone back out, stood beside Eileen, and together the three of them waited, not so patiently, for answers. Scott could vaguely hear a conversation going on between Shane and someone else, but he couldn’t make out any of the words.

  It only lasted for a few minutes, and then Shane had called to them.

  “I’m coming down now,” Shane said from the top. “You need to stay back from the door. This isn’t going to be pretty, and it sure as hell isn’t going to be nice. Courtney?”

  “Yes?” she said loudly, and Scott felt anger and jealousy rear their heads again as the older man said his girlfriend’s name.

  “Behind the house, by the wood, is a blue tarp. Grab it, will you?” Shane asked.

  “Sure,” Courtney said, and she hurried away.

  “What’s going on?” Eileen called out, desperation in her voice. “Is Dane up there with you?”

  “Yes,” Shane replied.

  “Oh, thank God,” Eileen said, her shoulders dropping in relief. Then she said, “Is he hurt?”

  “He’s dead,” Shane answered.

  “Oh Jesus Christ,” Scott whispered. Eileen sank down to the ground, put her back against the old bricks of the lighthouse, and stared dully out at the Atlantic. And then Courtney was back, carrying the blue tarp with her. It was balled up in her arms. She glanced at Eileen and frowned.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked her friend.

  Eileen shook her head.

  “Dane’s dead,” Scott replied.

  “What?” Courtney asked. “What do you mean he’s dead? How can he be dead? We heard them talking up there.”

  Scott shook his head, unable to give her an answer.

  “Courtney?” Shane called.

  “Got it,” she answered. “Now what?”

  “Spread it out right in front of the door, please,” he said. “And don’t look, okay?”

  “Okay,” Courtney said. She brought the tarp to the door, stretched it out, and then turned to Eileen. “Come on, hon, let’s
go inside.”

  Her expression was one of dazed confusion, Eileen allowed Courtney to help her stand up. Together they went to the keeper’s house.

  Scott was alone.

  “All set?” Shane asked.

  “Yeah,” Scott said. “And the girls went inside.”

  “Good,” Shane said. “You may want to go inside too, Scott.”

  “No,” Scott responded, his voice sounding oddly mechanical to his ears. “He’s my best friend.”

  “Alright,” Shane said. “Be ready.”

  A moment later, Scott heard Shane’s footsteps on the stairs. They were heavier than before, and the man came down steadily. Soon, Scott could see him. Shane walked carefully, stepping on each riser. Once again, he was bare-chested, and blood stained his hairless flesh.

  Dane Wesser, Scott’s best friend, was limply draped over Shane’s shoulder. Dane’s body flopped and jiggled curiously, lifelessly with every step Shane took.

  When the older man reached the ground floor, he grimly exited the lighthouse and gently placed Dane’s body on the tarp. Scott could see why Shane was shirtless. The black tee shirt he had been wearing earlier was on Dane’s stomach. Dane’s braided tan belt had been removed from his khaki shorts, looped around the shirt and cinched tightly.

  “Why?” Scott asked softly.

  “Why what?” Shane asked, getting down on his knees.

  “Your shirt?”

  “To keep his intestines in,” Shane said bitterly. “He was gutted like a fish.”

  Scott felt the urge to vomit, but he kept it under control. Silently, he watched Shane wrap the tarp around Dane, and then roll him carefully and gently in it. When he had finished, Shane looked up at Scott and said, “Will you help me move him?”

  Scott nodded. “Where?”

  “We’ll bring him around the back. There’s an old shed, it’s seen better days, but it’s empty. We can put him there until someone comes and gets us later, alright?”

  “Yeah,” Scott whispered. “Yeah, alright.”

  “Good.”

  Not really aware of what he was doing, Scott helped to pick up Dane, whose body was incredibly unwieldy, and together he and Shane went around the lighthouse. In the back was the shed, its door wide open and hanging cockeyed off of its hinges.

  Shane backed in and said, “Here, on the right.”

  They maneuvered in the tight confines of the small structure and put Dane’s body on a shelf that kept him off the ground and was barely long enough to fit him.

  “Thanks,” Shane said as they left the shed and he closed the door, sliding the latch in place. “Will you do me another favor?”

  “Sure,” Scott said numbly. “What is it?”

  “Go in, grab a t-shirt out of my bag and bring it down to the pier?” Shane said. “I need to wash myself up. Salt water isn’t great for it, but I won’t waste what little fresh water we have.”

  “Yeah,” Scott said. “I can do that.”

  “Thanks,” Shane said. He hesitated, then he added, “Listen, I’m sorry this happened to your friend. I truly am, Scott.”

  Scott nodded, and Shane left for the pier.

  Scott stood outside the shed a little longer. Then, with a shudder, he went into the keeper’s house. He needed to get the shirt for Shane.

  And he needed to tell Eileen about where Dane’s body was.

  His body, Scott thought, and tears filled his eyes. Oh Christ, his body…

  Chapter 13: Down at the Pier

  Shane was thankful the weather was warm, and that the breeze coming off of the ocean was equally warm. He had managed to scrub Dane’s blood off of his body, and he sat on the pier, air-drying. The salt water had left an unpleasant residue on his flesh, but it was far more preferable than the remnants of Dane.

  He took his cigarettes out, lit one, and exhaled as he looked at the water. The waves smacked the large stones at the base of the island. The water was rough, angry. A glance at the yacht showed it at the end of its tether.

  It’ll break free soon, Shane thought glumly, and he wondered when Marie might get out to them. He needed the kids, and the body, off of the island.

  He heard footsteps on the path behind him and he turned quickly.

  Courtney was approaching, holding his gray t-shirt in her hand.

  “Fantastic,” Shane said around his cigarette. “Thank you so much.”

  He got to his feet and walked towards her. She gave him a small smile as she handed it to him. He could see the fear and concern in her eyes.

  After he had put the shirt on, he sat back down on the pier and she joined him. Several minutes of silence passed by before she asked, “What happened?”

  “Dane was killed by a ghost,” Shane said.

  Courtney shook her head. “How? I mean, come on, how can a ghost hurt someone?”

  “I don’t know how,” Shane said, then to himself, No, she doesn’t need to know. “I just know they can. It’s like bumble bees. They look like they shouldn’t be able to fly, but they do. I don’t know how a ghost can hurt someone, but they do.”

  Courtney hesitated, then she said, “How was he killed?”

  “Badly,” Shane answered. “We’re going to leave it at that.”

  She nodded, accepting the reply. “Scott’s not taking it well.”

  “They were good friends?” Shane asked.

  “The best. They’d been friends since first grade,” Courtney said.

  Shane shook his head, finished his cigarette, and pinched out the butt. He stripped the paper off of the filter, tore up the filter, and then put the debris in his pockets.

  “Most people would have thrown it in the water,” Courtney said.

  “Hm?” Shane asked.

  “Your cigarette butt,” she said. “They would have tossed it into the ocean.”

  “Old habits,” Shane said, smiling. “They die hard.”

  The waves moved in, struck the rocks, broke apart, and then repeated the pattern.

  “It’s beautiful out here,” Courtney said softly. “Too bad it’s terrible, this place.”

  Shane nodded his agreement. “I have to find Dorothy.”

  Courtney frowned. “Who?”

  “The ghost I spoke to last night before you all showed up,” Shane clarified. “Clark, the one who killed Dane, he said she’s in charge. I need to speak with her. But I need to find her first.”

  “Where do ghosts hide?” Courtney asked. “I mean, this is a small island. Where can they be?”

  “Lots of places,” Shane replied. “We’ve got the lighthouse and the keeper’s house. The shed, and the pier. There has to be a cistern or something like it.”

  “For the water,” Courtney said, nodding. “Yeah. There wouldn’t be a well. They would have had to bring it in and store it here.”

  “And there’s the cellar,” Shane said, glancing back at the house. He saw Scott in the window, watching them.

  “Scott’s keeping an eye on you,” Shane said.

  “I know,” Courtney said, sighing. She didn’t bother to look. “He gets a little jealous. It’s what I get for dating a guy four years younger than me.”

  “Strange that he gets jealous,” Shane said.

  “Why?” she asked.

  “You don’t strike me as the type of person who’d cheat,” Shane said. “I think you’d be more likely to tell him you were done and move on if you were interested in someone else.”

  “Yup,” Courtney agreed. “That’s me. He knows it too. I’ve told him. Doesn’t mean he’s listening to me, though.”

  Shane nodded.

  “So,” she said, “what do we do now, wait for your friends to notice you haven’t written or replied?”

  “Yes,” he said. “Not much else to do about it. Just going to try and keep the rest of you safe. If I can.”

  “Thank you,” Courtney said softly. “For all of us. I don’t think either Eileen or Scott will see it that way, but I do. Thank you.”

  Shane nodded,
trying not to look in her green eyes. After a pause, he said, “I need some coffee. How about you?”

  “Sure,” she said.

  They both got to their feet and began the short walk back to the keeper’s house. Scott was no longer at the window.

  “Will you start looking for Dorothy right after coffee?” Courtney asked.

  “Yup,” Shane answered.

  “What do you need?”

  “Iron knuckledusters, light, and a whole lot of luck,” Shane said.

  “Where are you going to start?” she said.

  “The cellar,” Shane said.

  They lapsed into silence, turning up the path towards the keeper’s house. The sounds of their footsteps were swallowed up by the waves. Soon they reached the front door, and Courtney opened it for him. Shane smiled and nodded his thanks.

  When he entered the house Shane saw Scott and Eileen sitting in the living room. Both of them were exhausted, deep shadows beneath their eyes, stubble on Scott’s face.

  “I’m going to make coffee,” Shane said to them. “And I’ll heat up some food. You’ll both need to eat. Letting your bodies get too hungry or thirsty isn’t the way to last this one out. Understood?”

  Scott nodded.

  “Eileen,” Shane said sharply. The young woman looked up, surprised. “Did you hear me?”

  “No,” she said softly. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

  “You need to,” Shane said grimly. “This place isn’t nice. It isn’t friendly. Whatever is here, hurts people. I need you to pay attention. I need you to eat. All of you. Not eating and not drinking is going to get you hurt, and probably me.”

  “Do you need help getting the food ready?” Courtney asked.

  Shane nodded. “Any help would be great, Cort.”

  She blushed slightly at the nickname and passed by him to go into the kitchen. Scott’s face reddened too, but it was from anger and not attraction.

  Good, Shane thought. Maybe it’ll help him to pay more attention to her.

  Chapter 14: Angrier and Angrier

  Scott didn’t care about Shane having gone racing into the lighthouse after Dane. He didn’t care the man was making them food.