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

by Ron Ripley

  “Take it,” Uri said, gesturing towards the weapon while he went to a cabinet.

  Francis picked the weapon up, the weight familiar and comfortable in his hands.

  From the cabinet, Uri withdrew the loader and several boxes of empty shells. He set them on the table and then took out a large black duffel bag. Francis watched as Uri placed the items into the duffel, and then held his hand out for the shotgun. After he had handed it over, Uri asked Francis, “What type of shot do you need?”

  “Nothing,” Francis said.

  Uri shrugged, zipped up the bag and handed it to Francis.

  “Francis,” Uri said.

  “Yes?”

  “What are you loading it with?” Uri asked.

  “Rock salt.”

  Uri looked at Francis, confused. “Rock salt?”

  Francis nodded.

  “What the hell are you shooting with rock salt?” Uri said.

  Francis smiled. “I’m hunting the dead, Uri.”

  Uri narrowed his eyes and stared at Francis for a moment.

  “You’re serious,” Uri said finally.

  “Yes,” Francis responded.

  “Hm,” Uri said. He scratched the back of his head and then said, “Anything else you need for it?”

  “Do you have any iron?” Francis asked.

  “Iron?” Uri repeated. “No. Wait. Yeah, yeah I might.”

  Uri left the room and returned a short time later. He carried a length of dark wood, one end of it wrapped in iron bands with pointed studs.

  Francis laughed and shook his head. “What is that?”

  “World War One trench weapon,” Uri said, grinning. “It was used to convince German troops to surrender peacefully.”

  “I can see how it would be effective,” Francis said. He unzipped the duffel and Uri put it in with the other items.

  “Anyone else,” Uri said, “and I’d say they were on a bad acid trip. But you, I know you’re telling me the truth, and it scares the hell out of me. Be safe.”

  “I’ll be as safe as I can, my friend,” Francis said. Once more they shook hands and Francis followed him out.

  When they reached the main floor, and Francis walked to the door, he heard one of the men at the bar ask in a low voice, “What’s going on?”

  “Francis is going to save the world,” Uri said, holding the door open for Francis to exit.

  Not the world, Francis thought, stepping out into the morning light, but hopefully some who are in it.

  Chapter 47: Returning to Sanford

  The parking lot was empty when Shane pulled into it. He had an unpleasant taste at the back of his throat, a symptom of the fear he felt.

  Shane knew he would be at risk when he was on the table, waiting for the surgery.

  Am I really scheduled for a surgery? he wondered. Or are they taking the bait and are ready to finish me off?

  Hell, Shane thought, with the VA running their own security, they could make up any reason they want and never have to even involve the local police. They could kill me and no one would be the wiser. And since I don’t have any real family left, they could bury me here somewhere.

  As soon as the thought ended, Shane straightened up in his seat.

  Bury me here. He looked out the window at the wide expanse of the hospital’s grounds.

  There has to be some sort of burial ground here, he realized. Every hospital had one. It might not be taking any new residents, but a Nurse who died decades ago. One who gave her life to this place? Yeah, I bet she’s buried here. Somewhere.

  I need to find out where the cemetery is, Shane thought. Matias probably knows. Or Doc. One of them has to.

  He got out of his vehicle, grabbed the bag he had packed for an overnight, and closed the door. He headed for the front of the hospital, glancing back occasionally. No ghosts appeared, and he couldn’t see any sign of the cemetery either.

  You’ll find it, Shane thought.

  When he reached the main entrance, he walked in and found a different receptionist than the first time he had arrived. The man wore a name tag which read, “Mark”.

  “Hello, Mark,” Shane said.

  “Good morning,” Mark said, smiling. “How may I help you, today?”

  “Evidently, I have a surgery scheduled for six o’clock,” Shane said. “The message said to be in by nine since I have to fast for eight hours prior.”

  “Very good,” Mark said. “What’s your name?”

  Shane gave the man his name, date of birth, and social security number. Mark quickly typed all of the information into the system, found Shane’s file, and nodded.

  “Yes,” Mark said, “you need to see Nurse Platte first, and then she’ll have someone show you to your room. She’s in the office; follow this hall back, turn left at the second door and you’ll find her there.”

  “Thank you,” Shane said, and Mark waved as he walked away.

  When he reached her door, Shane found it closed, so he knocked on it. A moment later, it opened, and Nurse Platte gave him a weak smile.

  “Come in, please,” she said, returning to a cluttered desk. “Take a seat.”

  Shane did so and thought, I wonder if she knows what’s going on. Is she part of it?

  “You look a little frazzled,” Shane said.

  “Not a little, a lot,” she said. “They’re still investigating Brett’s death, but it doesn’t seem like they’re going to solve it.”

  “Was anything stolen?” Shane asked.

  Nurse Platte nodded. “Several discs which were loaded with personal information. Social security numbers, military records; everything someone could want in order to establish themselves somewhere else with a new identity.”

  “Great,” Shane said, shaking his head.

  “Yeah,” Nurse Platte said. “We all viewed it the same way. Right now it’s a matter of damage control and fielding all of the questions about financial security. Not only from the men and women here, but their family members and people we’ve treated who aren’t residents. It’s a mess.”

  Then she smiled at him. “Well, we’re not here to talk about the hospital’s newest problem. We’re here to talk about your upcoming skin graft.”

  “Yup,” Shane said.

  “It’ll be a straightforward procedure,” Nurse Platte said. “We’ll get you upstairs, get you well-prepped before surgery, and make certain everything is going to work out well. Do you have any questions for me before I send you up to D Ward?”

  “No,” Shane said, shaking his head. “No questions.”

  “Good,” Nurse Platte said, standing up. “I’ll be by your room in a few hours to check on you.”

  “Thanks,” Shane said, standing up. He left the room and went back to the elevators. After he had pressed the ‘up’ arrow, he waited for several minutes until the doors opened and he stepped in. His finger hesitated over the ‘D’ button, and then he pressed the one for E Ward instead.

  Need to check on Doc, Shane thought to himself. I’ve got to make sure he’s okay.

  Chapter 48: A Visit from the Abbot

  Francis sat on the floor in his room.

  He had spent nearly two hours carefully loading shotgun shells with rock salt. With the preparations finished, someone knocked at his door.

  “Come in,” Francis said without looking up.

  The hinges creaked, and the unknown individual gasped in surprise.

  Francis looked to the doorway and saw Abbot Gregory. The older man adjusted his glasses, shook his head and said, “Francis, what are you doing?”

  Francis tried to think of a way he could explain the situation delicately to his superior and found there was none. Sighing, Francis told Abbot Gregory everything.

  The abbot listened intently, eventually moving to sit upon Francis’s cot. Abbot Gregory’s back straightened, and he took his glasses off, absently wiping them off with the cuff of his sleeve. Finally, when Francis finished, the abbot put his glasses back on.

  The older man
looked at Francis and asked, “Do you need anything else?”

  “What do you mean?” Francis said, confused.

  “You have the shotgun and the ammunition,” Abbot Gregory said patiently. “You have iron. Have you any iron rings for your fingers?”

  Francis looked down at his hands as if to confirm what he already knew about his lack of additional iron, and then looked up and asked, “Do you have some?”

  “Yes,” Abbot Gregory said, a small smile playing across his face. “The college has existed for over one hundred years, Francis. We have had our share of difficult spirits. It is not something we usually speak of, and there are few in the Order who have sufficient strength and wherewithal to battle the dead. But just because there are few of us, doesn’t mean that there aren’t any. You have, from what you told me, moved beyond the realm of a simple monk.”

  Francis looked at his Abbot. “You’re saying there are members of our Order who have fought the dead before?”

  Abbot Gregory nodded. “Indeed. Not many, mind you, for God does not call us all to this purpose. Evidently, He has called you.”

  “How come I’ve never heard of this before?” Francis asked. “I’ve never even read anything of the sort. Were records kept?”

  “They were,” the older man said. “There are books, journals which are kept in my quarters, and within the special collections of the library. You may read them, when you are ready. Some will test your skills for they have not been translated from either French or Latin.”

  “Thank you,” Francis said.

  Abbot Gregory sighed, looked down at his hands and continued. “Well, you are more, now, Francis. You have passed through to a place many will never reach. There is a strength within you, a gift, which will allow you to battle those who have either intentionally or accidentally aligned themselves with evil.”

  “You, you’re alright with this?” Francis said, gesturing towards the ammunition and the weapons.

  “Quite,” the older man said. “It is new, and I would not have thought to employ a shotgun, but upon reflection, it is no surprise that you would. You were a soldier, Francis, and in your heart, you still are.”

  Francis nodded.

  Abbot Gregory stood up. “I have a set of rings here, in my quarters. I will bring the box down to you, and you can find a pair which fit.”

  “A pair of them?” Francis asked.

  The abbot nodded. “One for each hand. It is best to be prepared, should you lose your weapons.”

  Francis watched the man leave the room, and thought, Everything would help.

  Every. Last. Bit.

  He loaded the drum magazine and waited for Abbot Gregory to return.

  Chapter 49: Visiting Doc

  When the elevator doors opened onto E Ward, Shane felt uncomfortable. An unpleasantness hung in the air, and it was cold. Terribly so. Shane stepped out onto the floor, hesitated and waited to see if anything would happen.

  The woman at the nurse’s station smiled politely at him. “Are you alright?”

  “Yes,” he answered. “I’m here to see Doc.”

  “He’s in his room,” she said. “Do you know the way?”

  “I do,” Shane said. He turned and headed for Doc’s room, nodding ‘hello’ to the few men he passed. Doc’s door was open, and Shane paused long enough to rap on the doorframe and wait for Doc’s reply.

  “Come in,” Doc said, looking up from his bed. He smiled wanly at Shane. “How are you?”

  “Alright,” Shane answered. “How are you holding up?”

  Doc shrugged. “Little bit upset. Wish I knew why the hell Brett was shot.”

  “You don’t think it had anything to do with the Nurse?” Shane asked, surprised.

  “Part of me does,” Doc said. “But then I wonder why someone would go so far as to shoot him. I don’t know. I’m tired. They’ve got me on a new round of medication they think might help.”

  “Might?”

  Doc nodded. “Might’s better than not at all.”

  “True,” Shane said.

  “So, you back for your skin graft?” Doc said.

  “Yeah. Tonight, as long as I make it through all the tests,” Shane told him.

  “Have you been drinking?” Doc asked.

  “Of course,” Shane said.

  The younger man sighed. “They probably won’t want to do it. Did you fast at least?”

  “No,” Shane said, shaking his head. “I’m doing it now. Surgery isn’t scheduled until six.”

  “Tomorrow morning?” Doc asked.

  “Tonight,” Shane answered.

  “That doesn’t make any sense at all,” Doc said softly. He looked at the door, and then back to Shane. “You need to watch yourself.”

  “I will,” Shane said.

  “I’m serious,” Doc said earnestly. “They never do surgeries after four, not unless it's an emergency, and I figure yours isn’t.”

  “Not life or death, no,” Shane said.

  “Then why are you here?” Doc asked, confused. “I’m being serious, Shane. Brett was shot. Murdered. Not by a ghost, but by a person. Why risk it at all?”

  “I’m hoping to get someone to try something,” Shane said. “That way, I can find out where the Nurse is buried.”

  “Can’t you just look it up?” Doc asked.

  “I tried,” Shane said. “All I found was an obituary, and all it said was she had died at Sanford. Nothing else. It’s like someone went in and stripped the information off the web.”

  “So you’re putting yourself out there as bait?” Doc said.

  “Yes.”

  “Still?” Doc asked. “After what happened to Brett?”

  “Especially because of what happened to Brett,” Shane said grimly. “Listen, Doc, whoever it was who killed Brett is obviously okay with what the Nurse is doing. I’m not. In order to prevent any more deaths like Brett’s from occurring, I have to get rid of the Nurse. The only way to do that is to salt and burn her bones. Which is what I’m going to do.”

  Doc shook his head. “Well, be careful, okay?”

  “I will be,” Shane said, standing up to leave.

  “What ward are you on?” Doc asked suddenly.

  “D Ward,” Shane replied. “Going to come and visit me after my surgery?”

  “Yeah,” Doc said. “Figure I’ll make sure you’re okay.”

  “Sounds like a plan to me,” Shane said. He left the dying man’s room and went in search of his own.

  Chapter 50: Ready to Leave

  Matias had eventually eaten his breakfast, and then his lunch. He would need his strength for whatever was to come.

  Mark had returned for the tray, smiled at him with fanaticism, and left the room.

  When the man exited, Matias listened carefully. The door clicked shut, but it remained unlocked.

  Matias took a deep breath and laid back against his pillows. He stared at the ceiling.

  Will you be able to do this? he asked himself. Can you?

  Better to die trying, than to wait for it, he answered.

  Matias took the blankets and sheet and cast them off. He looked down at his legs, wasted sticks existing where pillars of strength had once been.

  Useless, he thought bitterly. But you’re not. Forget them. Carry on.

  Grabbing hold of the side rail, Matias carefully eased himself out of the bed. The effort was agonizing, his arms screaming, stomach clenching. Finally, he reached the floor, and when he did so, he lay upon it for a long time. It was cold beneath him, but he didn’t care.

  He realized he had wet himself with the effort, and Matias didn’t care about that either. Pressing his hands flat against the floor, Matias pushed himself up. He managed to sit and rest his back against his bed.

  I need to get to the door. Beyond the door was the plastic foyer, and after that barrier, the hallway.

  Maybe I’ll have a heart attack and die before I ever reach it, Matias thought. Then I won’t have to worry about what to do next.


  Maybe, he thought scornfully. And maybe the cavalry will come to my rescue.

  Matias pushed all of the thoughts to the back of his mind as he carefully lay back down on the floor. Fixing his gaze upon the door, he began to drag himself forward.

  Chapter 51: Getting Prepped for Surgery

  Shane wore the uncomfortable hospital smock reluctantly. Soon, he knew, they would come in and begin the blood work and conduct the various other tests which let them know if he really was ready for the surgery.

  I’ll probably get an earful for all the alcohol in my system, he thought. Oh well.

  He straightened up in the bed and felt the dog tags slide across his chest. Shane smiled, reached up and held them. It was a comfort to feel them, and to know that somewhere, somehow, Courtney was with him.

  He picked up the remote, tried to turn on the television and found it didn’t work. Shane rolled his eyes and thought, Typical.

  He tried several more times, then he pressed the call button for the nurse. A moment later, a young woman entered and smiled at him.

  “What can I do for you?” she asked.

  “The television’s shot,” Shane explained. “Do you have a book or magazine I can look at? Even a paper?”

  “Sure,” she said, smiling. “I’m sure we can find something.”

  “Thanks,” he said and watched as she left the room.

  Several minutes passed and the nurse didn’t return. Instead, the room grew colder. The light of the bed lamp weakened, flickered, and went out, leaving Shane in semi-darkness.

  He twisted in his bed, slipped a hand under his pillow and pulled out the knuckledusters. Quietly Shane slipped them on, felt the strength of the cold iron against his flesh, and waited.

  A moment later, Jacob entered the room.

  “You’ve returned to us,” Jacob said.