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

by Ron Ripley

  The monk nodded, and then he asked, “You’ve done this before?”

  “A couple of times now,” Shane said. “Yeah.”

  “Did anyone die before?” Dom Francis said.

  Shane nodded and whispered, “Yes.”

  With the painful memory of Courtney’s broken body in his mind, Shane turned away and headed for the parking lot.

  Chapter 57: The Plan

  “I don’t know what to expect here,” Shane said as the three of them stood at his car. He had gotten a pair of pants on, but nothing else. His shoes were in his room, and he had found a zip-up hoodie in the trunk, along with the collapsible shovel he left in there for the winter months.

  “What do you mean?” Doc asked.

  “Before,” Shane explained, “there were always at least a couple of the dead who were willing to help me. This is not the case here, as we’ve found out. In fact, they would much rather work against us. Stop us from ending the Nurse. Thing is, other than the Nurse, none of them have really tried to kill us. But, I’m concerned about what they might try to do if we get too close to her grave.”

  “Can’t we use the shotguns to stop them?” Doc asked.

  “Sure,” Shane said. “Shotguns come in handy. But how fast can you pull a trigger?”

  “What?” Doc said, looking at him. “What do you mean?”

  “You’ve been in combat, right, Doc?” Dom Francis asked.

  Doc nodded.

  “You ever know the bad guys to wait patiently for you to draw a bead on them, or come at you one at a time?” the monk said.

  “Damn,” Doc said, sighing. “No.”

  “And these aren’t ordinary ghosts,” Shane said. “Most are former military. Yeah, some may not have seen combat. These were guys who suffered from post-traumatic stress, battlefatigue, whatever you want to call it. These were combat vets. They don’t have fire superiority, but they have strength in numbers. Hell, I had to face five of them.”

  Doc took a deep breath, let it out slowly and said, “So what do we do?”

  “We go as carefully as possible. And remember,” Shane said grimly, “we’ve still got to dig her up. Pretty sure she’s not going to be laid out all nice and neat for us in some crypt. Life is never that easy.”

  “How is this going to work then?” Doc asked. “I mean, are we going to lay down covering fire while you dig, or what?”

  “How am I going to dig, with my arm like this?” Shane asked.

  “How are you going to walk a quarter mile without shoes?” Dom Francis asked.

  “Carefully,” Shane replied.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to try and get them out of your room?” Doc said. “Seriously, Shane, we can wait.”

  “It’s not a matter of time,” Shane said. “It’s about who might try to stop us in the building before we ever get to the cemetery. Anyway, can you handle a shotgun, Doc?”

  He nodded, picking the weapon up. “Yeah. No problem there.”

  “What’s the plan, then?” Dom Francis asked.

  “Pretty straight forward,” Shane said. “Once we get to the cemetery, we find the Nurse’s grave. Next, comes the digging, and here’s hoping we won’t be interrupted. When we have her grave opened up, we salt her bones, dump some lighter fluid on her, and light her up.”

  “Easy enough,” the monk said. “Except for when it all goes to crap.”

  “Exactly,” Shane said, nodding.

  “Boy,” Doc said. “You guys really know how to inspire confidence.”

  “We try,” Dom Francis said grimly.

  “Alright,” Shane said. He winced as he put his gear bag over his good shoulder. With his right hand, he picked up the shovel and said, “Let’s get this done.”

  Doc took the lead since he knew the way to the graveyard. Shane tried not to think about how his feet were cold, or about how hard and uncomfortable the ground was beneath them. Occasionally, he winced as sharp rocks bit into the tender flesh of his insteps. Soon, he felt himself bleeding and he knew he would have to get a round of antibiotics to make sure nothing became infected.

  At least I don’t need a tetanus shot, he thought, shaking his head.

  What if they know the nurse didn’t stop me? Shane wondered. Won’t they be back tomorrow? Won’t they wait until I’m sedated?

  At the memory of the surgery he needed, Shane glanced at his arm. There was hardly any pain, but the injury he had sustained in the fight against Abel Latham in Griswold was a serious one.

  “You okay?” Dom Francis asked.

  Shane nodded. “Yeah, I’m good.”

  “You know,” Doc said over his shoulder. "I’m surprised they didn’t wait until you were knocked out to try and do you in.”

  “Me too,” Shane agreed. “Maybe she was too nervous.”

  “She seemed like she had her act together,” Dom Francis said. “I think she may have been a little too zealous.”

  “Lucky for me she was,” Shane said, and then he gasped and hopped on one foot for a moment.

  The other two men stopped, and Doc said, “Sit down.”

  Wincing, Shane did so.

  Doc squatted down, picked up one of Shane’s feet and shook his head. “Hey, you’re going to need to stop soon. You’re cutting your feet to pieces.”

  “How far are we from the graveyard?” Shane asked as Doc put his foot down.

  “It’s over the rise there,” Doc said, gesturing towards the road. “Seriously, you should wait here, let us go up there and do what needs to be done.”

  Shane shook his head. “You two haven’t done this before. Plus there’s no telling what you’re going to run into in there.”

  “Shane,” Dom Francis said. “I’m former special forces. Doc here was a combat medic. Add to that the iron we’re carrying, plus the shotguns. I think we’re looking pretty good.”

  Shane hesitated, and then he nodded. “Alright. I’ll make a deal with you two. You leave me here for a bit, then I’ll make my way up to you.”

  “Shane,” Doc started.

  “No,” Shane said, shaking his head vehemently. “It’s either this or I limp along with you. Or, better yet, one of you gets to carry me. And I am a hell of a lot heavier than I look.”

  “Fine,” Doc said, frowning as he took the gear bag from Shane. “Rest. But do not hurry up to us. Got it?”

  “Sure,” Shane said, stretching his legs out and wincing at the pain. “Sure.”

  He watched Dom Francis and Doc head off up the narrow road, and he tried to ignore his feet as they throbbed.

  Chapter 58: Francis and Doc on the Road

  Francis felt himself slip easily into the old, familiar rhythm of a patrol. He scanned from left to right, and back again. His eyes picked out likely spots for ambushes, as well as areas where he might be able to establish a successful defense. Everything came sharply into focus; each leaf, every tree branch. His ears picked out and identified a hundred different sounds.

  On the wind, he smelled sickness, and Francis knew it was Doc. The man had been on E Ward, and Francis could only imagine what horrific disease ate at the young man. Francis had friends who had contracted rare, terminal diseases, others who had suddenly sprouted unknown cancers.

  Job hazard when slogging through third world cesspools and warzones where dictators and warlords used chemical weapons on friend and foe alike, Francis thought.

  He adjusted his grip on the shotgun and looked over at Doc who was focused on the road and the large cemetery that had appeared. The burial ground was hemmed in by trees, but no fence; although it looked as if there had been some sort of barrier before. Chunks of cement with broken pieces of black metal protruding from them, formed the rough outline of where a wall would have been. A light fog hung at knee level, most of the stones cropping up from the mist. Here and there Francis saw small crypts as if some mournful person had sought to immortalize their loved one.

  “This is a sacred place,” Francis said softly. “How many people are buried
here?”

  “Over two thousand,” Doc said.

  “How do you know?” Francis asked, surprised.

  “I counted them,” Doc answered, his voice filled with sadness. “Each and every one of them.”

  “I’m impressed,” Francis said. Then, he said, “Do you know where the Nurse’s grave is?”

  “Ruth Williamson,” Doc said. “Of course, I do.”

  And he brought the shotgun up and pulled the trigger.

  Chapter 59: Shane’s in Pain

  Shane lay on his back, and he looked at the stars.

  My God, he thought, I can’t believe I’m lying here. I should be up there with them. Bleeding feet or not.

  Slowly he sat up, his body complaining bitterly. The wound in his shoulder seeped blood, and the cuts on his feet did the same.

  The blast of a shotgun interrupted his self-critique.

  Silence followed.

  Enough waiting, he told himself, and he managed to get to his feet. A wave of pain-induced nausea rolled over him, and he spread his arms wide, trying to maintain his balance. For a second, it seemed as if he might fall, but he didn’t.

  Shane took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and focused on the narrow road. Each step was an effort, and he knew he was leaving bloody footprints behind him.

  Ignoring the agony, Shane continued on.

  Doc and Dom Francis were going to need his help.

  Chapter 60: The First Battle in the Grave Yard

  Francis had been shot at many times. He had even been hit on occasion. So when he saw Doc bring the shotgun up, Francis immediately turned away.

  There wasn’t enough time to get completely out of the blast radius, however, and he felt some of the rock salt strike him in the back and the side. The pain was impressive in its intensity and immediacy.

  Francis didn’t try shooting back, it merely would have been a waste of ammunition. So instead, he threw his own shotgun at Doc and rushed him. The dying man reacted as most people would. He shied away from the thrown weapon, and he didn’t try to put another load of rock salt into Francis.

  As Doc avoided the shotgun, Francis reached him, wrenched Doc’s gun free and threw it aside. The young man was much stronger and quicker than Francis had been lead to believe.

  Doc lashed out with a fist and caught Francis in his newly wounded side. And, if Francis had been a regular guy, the blow would have been enough to put him down.

  No, Francis thought, turning himself towards Doc. I’m not a regular guy.

  He brought the heel of his hand up, smashing it into Doc’s chin. The clack of his teeth against each other was grating, and Francis smiled.

  I was a bad man, Doc, Francis thought. Long before I was ever a good one.

  The fight was short and brutal.

  When Francis was done, he stood over Doc. The former Army medic lay on his back, both eyes swelled shut and his breath coming in great gasps. Francis’s fists had mashed Doc’s lips, giving them the shape and appearance of swollen, bloody sausages. As Francis looked down at the man, he realized he had blood on his robes.

  You can never come back from this, Francis told himself. Your time as a monk is done. Your peace is ended.

  Accepted, he thought, and he squatted down beside Doc. He picked up Doc’s left hand and said, “Can you hear me?”

  Doc nodded.

  “Good,” Francis said. “Can you speak?”

  “Yes,” Doc said, the word barely intelligible. “What do you want to know, Dead Man?”

  “Why?” Francis demanded.

  “I’m dying,” Doc said, chuckling and grimacing at the same time. “I wanted to help as many people as I could.”

  “Where is the Nurse buried?” Francis asked.

  Doc spit blood at him.

  Francis took hold of Doc’s left pinky and broke it.

  Doc’s shriek echoed off of the headstones.

  “Where is the Nurse buried?” Francis asked.

  Doc shook his head.

  Francis broke the man’s left ring finger.

  Doc sobbed and vomited.

  “Where is she buried?” Francis asked again.

  “A crypt,” Doc gasped. “And she’s going to kill you for this. She’s going to kill you.”

  “Maybe,” Francis said. He dropped Doc’s mangled hand and stood up. He grabbed Shane’s gear bag, picked up his shotgun and looked around the cemetery. In the curiously peaceful light of the night sky, Francis could see four separate crypts. He contemplated another round of questions with the recalcitrant Doc, but he shook the thought away.

  Too much time, Francis thought. And torture never feels right.

  Francis left the traitor on the ground and walked towards the nearest crypt to see if he could find the Nurse.

  Chapter 61: Reaching the Cemetery

  Shane’s feet had gone numb by the time he reached the cemetery, and he didn’t know if he was stumbling from exhaustion, pain, or a combination of the two.

  He caught sight of Francis as the man entered a nearby crypt, but Shane couldn’t see Doc anywhere. Moving into the low hanging fog, Shane heard a sound, nothing more than a whimper, but he turned towards it and saw Doc crawling towards the edge of the cemetery.

  “Doc?” Shane asked. He wanted to hurry to the man, but an uncomfortable feeling whispered for him to stop.

  Doc looked up, a wheezing laugh escaping his mangled mouth.

  “Have you come to die, Shane?” Doc asked. “You must have. She’s here. Waiting for you. Waiting for the monk. You think she needs the dead to help her? Not the Nurse. She needs no one and nothing. You’ll die. But not before she’s played with you a bit.”

  Shane’s skin crawled at the man’s words, most of which were difficult to understand.

  “You sided with her,” Shane said softly, finally understanding.

  “Long before you were here,” Doc said, crawling again. “Oh yes, Shane Ryan. I chose her, and I am pleased I did. So many of us, staff and patients, even a few family members. We all chose her.”

  Shane stared down at the man and watched him crawl.

  Shane tightened his grip on his knuckledusters.

  There’s the sweet-spot, a calm, cold voice told him. Right there, where the skull meets the top of the C-Spine. Or the temple. A single blow and he’ll be dead. One punch and he won’t pass the word to any of the Nurse’s twisted little devotees.

  Shane relaxed his grip, turned away from Doc and limped towards the crypt he had seen Dom Francis enter. As he walked, the fog began to dissipate. The air grew colder and the stars and moon shined brighter.

  She’s coming, Shane realized, trying to quicken his pace. She knows we’re here.

  Dom Francis stepped out of the crypt again, quickly bringing the shotgun up.

  “Shane,” the monk said. “You look like crap.”

  “Like looking in a mirror,” Shane said, nodding towards the wet spots standing out starkly on the monk’s robes.

  “True,” Dom Francis said. “You run into the traitor?”

  “Yeah,” Shane said. “Why are you checking the crypt?”

  “Little weasel said she was in one of them,” Dom Francis paused and looked around. “It’s colder.”

  “She’s around,” Shane said. He searched the graveyard, surveying the three other crypts.

  “Why is she waiting?” the monk asked.

  “To kill us,” Shane replied. “I think she’s expecting us.”

  “Too bad for us,” Dom Francis muttered.

  “Yup,” Shane agreed. “Ready to try door number two?”

  “Of course,” the monk said.

  “You shouldn’t,” a feminine voice said from behind them.

  As they turned around, the Nurse stepped forward, slapping the shotgun out of Dom Francis’s hands. He swung at her, but with a flick of her wrist, he was thrown backward, striking a small headstone and tripping over it.

  Shane, unable to run, stood his ground.

  The Nurse looked at him s
ympathetically.

  “Why are you struggling against me?” she asked him, genuine curiosity filling her voice. “You are alone in this world. I seek only to give you peace. To grant you rest.”

  “I don’t mind being alone,” Shane said. “And peace and rest, they don’t particularly interest me.”

  “You are unloved,” she said sadly.

  Shane’s dog tags grew cold, and he smiled at the Nurse.

  “No,” he whispered, “I am loved.”

  A high-pitched wail pierced the night, and Courtney launched herself out of the dog tags.

  Chapter 62: Fighting Among the Stones

  Shane knew he was running on adrenaline and little else.

  He doubted Courtney would give him much time to get to the Nurse’s crypt, but he found himself drawn to watch the battle between the ghosts.

  The Nurse was strong, incredibly so. She had survived and thrived for decades, and whether she realized it or not, Shane knew she had fed on the energy of the ghosts around her.

  Courtney had none of these in her favor. But she was angry.

  Shane watched as Courtney slammed into the Nurse. There was no finesse. No deft and able moves, nothing ‘Hollywood’ about the fight between the two dead women.

  A glow wrapped around them, pulsing in time to the punches Courtney was landing. The Nurse staggered back, a look of surprise on her face. And as she tried to regain her balance, Shane limped as quickly as he could to the next crypt.

  In the light of the moon, he read the name carved in the granite mantle above the door.

  Ruth Williamson.

  Shane smiled grimly, and when he reached the door, he found it locked.

  Worry ate at him as he dropped his gear bag and dug out his collapsible shovel, glancing over his shoulder at the battle behind him.

  The Nurse had managed to straighten up, and she shied away from Courtney’s blows. But they weren’t having any effect, and the Nurse was realizing it. Even as he watched, Shane saw her look of surprise and shock being replaced quickly by annoyance, and then anger.