by Ron Ripley
“No,” Francis said, smiling. “Everyone who would like a little conversation.”
“I never say no to a little conversation. Or even a lot,” Matias said, winking. “You must be from St. Anselm’s College.”
Matias nodded. “I am.”
“Yes, I’ve only seen a few Benedictine monks, and they have all been here in New Hampshire,” Matias said. He took a sip of his coffee and then said, “I’m being terribly impolite. Would you like me to see if someone could bring you a cup of coffee?”
“No, thank you,” Francis said. “I had some this morning when I broke my fast. Too much and I’ll never be able to sit still through evening prayers.”
Outside the room’s single window, clouds settled in front of the sun, casting a dim shadow over the two men. Matias reached out, found the switch for the lamp on his end table and turned the light on.
“I don’t appreciate the dark anymore,” Matias said. “Too many years of doing things most men should never have to. You have the bearing of a military man, Dom Francis. I’ve never seen it in a religious way before.”
“I was in the Army before I took my vows,” Francis said.
“I suppose that explains it then,” Matias said, chuckling.
The light flickered, went out, came back on, and flickered again.
Both men looked at it.
A moment later, the bulb shattered, glass embedding itself in the lamp shade and scattering across the floor. The temperature in the room plummeted. In the dim light, Francis’s breath came billowing out in great clouds.
The sensation of unease which he had felt when he had first walked into the building magnified a hundred fold and Francis stood up.
“Sit down,” Matias said gently. “We can’t do anything against her, not if she’s set her mind to it.”
“Who?” Francis asked, looking over at the old man.
“The Nurse,” Matias said. “Now sit. Please.”
Francis sat.
The room grew colder, goose bumps erupting on Francis’s entire body. Then, from the left wall, a figure emerged. A woman, dressed in a nurse’s uniform Francis had only seen in books. She looked at them both, a stern expression on a face which was undeniably pretty.
“Father,” she said, looking at Francis.
He didn’t bother to try and correct her. Francis was trying to accept the reality of her presence.
“I must ask you to be sparing with your time with Mr. Geisel. He is old and I’ve not yet decided if he’s to have his appointment today or not,” the Nurse said. She smiled at Matias and said to him, “It may be today, Mr. Geisel. It may not. Best to be prepared.”
With a nod to them both, she turned and left the way she had come. The room slowly warmed up, and Francis looked at Matias.
Matias picked up the call button for the nurse on duty, pressed it and looked at Francis. “Would you like a cup of coffee now, Dom Francis?”
Francis could only nod as the image of the dead nurse etched itself into his memory.
Chapter 17: Visiting Some Friends
Nurse Platte had been upset when Shane left the hospital. It was only after he had promised to return for treatment, that she had discharged him.
Shane enjoyed a large drink of whiskey and two rapidly smoked cigarettes before he left the parking lot. He picked up a coffee from a gas station and sent a request for assistance via text.
The response had been quick.
Come on by.
Thirty-seven minutes later, he pulled into a driveway on Old Nashua Road, parked the car and shut the engine off. He walked up the stairs of the farm house, stepped onto the porch and knocked on the door.
It opened a second later, and Brian Roy stood in front of him, grinning.
“Shane,” Brian said, holding out his hand, “how the hell are you?”
“Terrible,” Shane replied, shaking Brian’s hand and then pulling the man in for a hug. They clapped each other on the back.
“Come on in,” Brian said, stepping away from the door. He turned and called down the hallway, “Jenny, Shane’s here!”
From the kitchen, Jenny said, “Hi Shane!”
“Hey Jenny,” Shane called back. Brian closed and locked the door. Together they walked into the small den. Shane plopped down in a chair while Brian went to the loveseat.
“This,” Jenny said, “is as domestic as I’m getting today.”
She sat with Brian on the loveseat and Shane looked at Brian. “You doing okay?”
“Fair enough,” Shane said.
”Tell us what’s going on,” she said.
Shane settled back into the chair, and told them about Sanford Hospital. He kept the bit about Nurse Ruth invading his dream for the last.
The color drained from Jenny and Brian’s faces.
“Jesus,” Brian said after a moment. “I’ve never even heard of anything like that.”
“I have,” Jenny said, and both Brian and Shane looked at her. “I’ve been reading through different books from a friend’s library. One of them talked about ghosts and demons conducting psychic attacks through dreams.”
“Did they say how to defend yourself against the attacks?” Shane asked, leaning forward. “I’ve got to go back up there, and more than likely it’ll be for a little bit. I’d rather not have her choke me to death in my sleep before I can figure out what to do with her.”
“There was,” Jenny said, “but I’ll have to look it up. I don’t remember, and I sure as hell don’t want to give you the wrong name.”
“Yeah,” Brian said. “That would be a pain.”
“Be right back, I want to check the books upstairs.” She got up and left the room. Shane looked at Brian, at the scars on the man’s head and the glitter of steel-capped teeth in his mouth.
“Man,” Shane said, “you look like an extra from an apocalyptic movie. What the hell happened?”
“Just some trouble with a ghost,” Brian said.
“Looks like you got worked over pretty good,” Shane said.
“More than pretty good,” Brian said bitterly. “I do research every once in a while, but it’s Jenny who does most of it. She works hard. And don’t let her kid you about reading a little bit. She’s reading about a book a day. Sometimes more if they’re smaller.”
“Wow,” Shane said.
“Wow is right,” Brian said.
“What’s wow?” Jenny asked, walking back into the room. She had a small book in her hand.
“I was telling Shane how much you read,” Brian said.
She grinned. “Yeah. A little bit.”
“I guess so,” Shane said, chuckling. “So, what’s the deal with psychic attacks? I’ve never dealt with this before.”
“It’s not common,” Jenny said. “There’s stuff about it in ghost lore, but usually it takes an incredibly strong ghost.”
“Okay,” Shane said. “But you know, I’ve faced off against some miserable spirits. And they were strong. Really strong. No one tried to reach in my head before while I was asleep.”
“There are a lot of factors,” Brian said. “From the research I’ve seen, one of the biggest is voluntary energy sharing. I don’t know how this ghost of yours operates, but look at Josephus.”
Jenny scoffed at the mention of the dead man’s name.
Brian nodded. “Yeah, Babe, I feel the same way. But the point I’m trying to make is all of his power must have come from the other spirits he kept there. He was an energy vampire. Stealing the power. So while he was strong, he wasn’t as strong as he could have been if they had given him their energy voluntarily.”
“What we’re thinking,” Jenny added, “is that your ghost is getting her boost from the willing, and that really makes all the difference in the world when it comes to being able to attack psychically.”
“She might fit the bill,” Shane said after a minute. “She’s been operating for a long time at Sanford. And I think she’s got a lot of support there. And that could do it?”
/> Jenny nodded. “Yes, as long as she’s able to feed off their energy, yeah. Definitely.”
“Like we said,” Brian added, “voluntary is the key.”
“Great,” Shane said, sighing. “So, how do I keep her from ripping me apart while I sleep?”
“Couple of different ways to defend yourself,” Jenny said. She opened the book, flipped to a page near the end and nodded to herself. “The only one I think has some real merit, and some actual testimony from reputable ghost sites is the herb, betony. I know there’s a new herbal shop in Nashua, so you may be able to find it there. If not, you’ll have to call around.”
“What do I do with it?” Shane asked. “Wear it like a charm?”
Jenny shook her head. “No. Sprinkle it around your pillow. It probably wouldn’t hurt to scatter it around your bed either.”
Shane took his phone out, brought up the notepad app, and entered ‘betony’. “Thanks, Jenny.”
“You’re welcome,” she said. “I wish there was more we could do without putting my man-child here in harm’s way.”
“No worries there,” Shane said, grinning. “I’ve got a couple of hard-charging veterans up at Sanford. We’ll get it done.”
“I’m sure you will,” Brian said. He looked down at his hands and sighed.
“Something wrong with the drink?” Jenny asked with a wry smile.
Brian nodded.
Shane looked at him and asked, “What?”
“No whiskey in it,” Brian said, and Shane laughed as Jenny slapped her husband on the arm.
Chapter 18: Matias Waits Alone
Matias knew he would die. Everyone did.
He had seen hundreds of men killed. Thousands wounded. He knew what it was like to choke the life out of a man, and what it meant to try to pick up the pieces of a friend killed by artillery fire.
Matias had been a killer – one of the finest. He didn’t suffer from nightmares or regrets. Matias knew plenty of men and women who were afflicted with post-traumatic stress, but he wasn’t one of them. He had found peace in war. Without a doubt, Matias had been a war-junkie, one of the few who constantly sought out strife.
The wound in his hip had ended his relationship with war and forced him to build one with his wife.
He reflected upon all of it as he looked at the pictures in his room, photographs of his children, grandchildren, and his great-grandchildren. In the top drawer of his dresser was a photo-album filled with pictures of friends, most of them dead. A few of the younger ones, those with whom he had fought in Vietnam, remained.
Matias sighed, turned his attention away from the memories and looked at the lamp. Raphael, one of the orderlies, had been kind enough to clean up the mess and replace the bulb. The curious Benedictine monk, Dom Francis, had stayed for some time, and Matias had explained what he knew about the Nurse.
Francis had listened intently, absorbing all of the information. When Matias had finished, Francis had thanked him and left, saying he would return soon.
Matias had no other visitors for the day, which wasn’t unusual. His grandchildren and great-grandchildren were active in various athletic events, and so his children were busy with them.
Matias smiled and wondered what videos they would bring to him.
He shivered suddenly, and he realized the room had gotten colder. The light flickered, and Matias turned it off. He was left in near total darkness, only a faint bar of illumination slipping in between the door and the floor.
Something passed through the light, a faint shadow.
“Hello, Mr. Geisel,” the Nurse said.
“Good evening, Nurse,” Matias said. His voice reflected his fatigue. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“I’ve come to tell you that I’ll be administering your medicine soon,” she said. “I wanted to be certain you knew.”
“I don’t particularly want any medicine,” Matias said. “In fact, I’m fairly positive I don’t need any.”
“Mr. Geisel,” she scolded, “you will take your medicine, as per my orders.”
“I thank you for your concern, Nurse,” Matias said, mustering as much authority as possible, and applying it to his tone. “But I will decide my own course of treatment.”
Before she could reply, the door opened and light filled the room. Matias turned his head away and closed his eyes. He heard the click of the switch and the overhead fluorescents flickered to life.
“Oh Jesus,” someone whispered, and Matias opened his eyes.
He looked through the Nurse and saw a young woman, one of the new third shift nurses, standing in the doorway. Her eyes were wide with surprise, her jaw open.
“Who are you?” the new woman asked, fear in her voice. “What are you doing in here?”
The Nurse turned to face her and said in a harsh voice, “Mr. Geisel is my patient. You will do well to leave the room and leave his care to me.”
The young woman shook her head, and although Matias could hear a tremor of panic in her voice, she said, “You need to leave.”
“It’s alright,” Matias said hurriedly. “Leave the room, please.”
“No,” the new nurse said, strength replacing the panic. “No. Nurse, you are not on duty on this floor. You have no authority or control over Mr. Geisel’s treatment. You need to leave now.”
“I am tired of people questioning my treatments,” the Nurse snarled. “Leave. Now!”
“No,” the young woman said. “You will not treat Mr. Geisel.”
“How dare you!” the Nurse Spat, enraged at the challenge. “How dare you! I know what is best for my patients!”
“No,” the new nurse stuttered. “No.”
The temperature in the room plummeted.
“No one,” the Nurse hissed, “interferes with me. No one denies me!”
The ghost became a blur of motion. In less than a heartbeat, she crossed the distance between her and the young woman, and she smashed into the living nurse as the door slammed shut. The new nurse was hurled into the wood, her head smacking obscenely against it.
She groaned as she sank down to the floor, a small smear of blood trailing down the door.
Matias grabbed the panic button and jammed his finger into it.
The Nurse leaned over her, grabbed the woman by her throat and lifted her up. The young woman’s eyes rolled in her head as spit gathered in the corners of her mouth. Someone tried to open the door but it wouldn’t budge. They pounded against it.
The Nurse slammed the young woman into the door repeatedly in reply. Soon, she was limp in the Nurse’s hands. The door shuddered, both from the blows outside the room and within it.
Fragments of bone became embedded in the wood and long strands of the young woman’s black hair were caught there as well. The whites of her eyes were distinctly visible between her half-closed lids. Her pink scrubs became stained with her blood and at some point, she had lost control of her bladder. Her legs twitched, her feet went into spasms, and her fingers danced about madly as if she were frantically typing out a letter.
Slowly Matias heard the people on the other side of the door as they yelled to him and to the newly dead nurse. Matias tried to answer, but his voice refused to obey him.
Finally, the Nurse dropped the young woman’s body to the floor and turned to face him once more.
The look on her face was cold and hard. She smoothed out her uniform, looked at him and said, “Mr. Geisel, I am the only nurse in charge of your care. I know what you need, and I shall administer it. All others will be warned, and then punished accordingly.”
The Nurse vanished, and the door was thrust open and struck the woman’s body. It was pushed across the floor, smearing blood on the linoleum.
Chapter 19: Home Again
Shane had found betony at the shop off of Main Street in Nashua. The herb, which he had bought in bulk, smelled like black tea.
It could smell like manure, Shane thought as he got out of the car with the bag in hand, as long as it does the
trick.
He went up the stairs and into his house, closing the door behind him. Shane looked around the hallway and came to a stop. “Hello!”
A second later, Eloise appeared from a dark corner. The dead girl smiled and waved at him. Shane returned the wave and approached the ghost.
“Where is everyone?” he asked, sinking into a squat to speak with her.
Eloise shrugged. “I was playing hide and seek with Thaddeus, but I was the one who was hiding.”
“Do you know why Thaddeus left?”
“Yes,” Eloise said, her voice, dropping to a whisper. “Courtney and Carl are fighting.”
Shane frowned. “Where?”
“Your bedroom. She doesn’t want him in your room.”
“Great,” Shane said, sighing. “Just what I need.”
He got to his feet and went up the main staircase to the second floor. As he approached the door to his room, the air became painfully cold, hurting his lungs with each breath.
Damn it, he thought. The doorknob was nearly frozen as he grabbed and twisted it, shoving the door open. Shane shivered as he stepped into the room, the muscles in his jaw tightening.
Carl and Courtney stood a few feet into the room, their forms pulsing with energy. Courtney’s body reflected her death, her neck with a curious crick in it.
Carl stood thin and tall, and he and Courtney glared at one another.
“Enough!” Shane snapped. “You’ve made my bedroom a god damned freezer!”
The two ghosts looked at him, shame and surprise on their faces.
“I don’t want to know why you’re fighting,” Shane said, holding up a hand. “I really don’t care. Carl, I’ve asked you not to enter the room when I’m not in it. I’ll meet you in the study shortly, please.”
Carl hesitated for a moment, and then gave a short bow before he vanished.
The temperature in the room warmed noticeably.
Courtney looked at him and his heart ached at the sight of her.
She smiled. “How are you?”
“Tired,” Shane replied. He put the bag of betony on his dresser and went to his bed. Quietly, he sat down and took off his shoes.