The Enigma of the Spirits

by Hector, Jr

  I flinch and look at the person standing next to me. It is the same doctor from a few minutes ago.

  “Ms. Javana, can you hear me? Do you understand what I am saying?” he asks me.

  I nod.

  “What is happening? Why am I bound to my bed?” I ask, listening to my voice crack between every other word. I gulp, realizing it hurt to swallow. He walks closer to me and rests his hands on the rail to my right.

  “Ms. Javana, for your own protection we had to bind you and sedate you. It seems certain words triggered a psychotic break. You fainted, but during the day you would trash and lash at personnel and visitors,” he tells me.

  I watch as two male nurse come around at opposite sides of my bed and slowly undo the bands around my ankles and my wrists. The doctor adjusts my bed, allowing me to rest at an incline. I massage my wrists as a dark line begins to appear over them... A psychotic break?

  “Ms. Javana?”

  I look towards the doctor. He smiles, his teeth perfectly white.

  “We will keep you until the end of the week for observation. Family and friends have been notified that no visitations will be allowed.”

  He turns towards the door, but suddenly stops and looks at me over his left shoulder.

  “Visitations are not allowed, but one of our patients has asked for permission to speak with you. He says it is important, and that it will help you cope with whatever you experienced.”

  The two male nurses follow the doctor out the room, but before the door can close, I watch as a young man comes in. With an I.V. tethered to his left wrist, he slowly walks towards the chairs in front of my bed. He sighs heavily as he sits down. He has long hair that rests on his shoulders. His brown eyes and dark-colored skin give him a hispanic look. Yet, the cunning and intelligence that reflect in his eyes tells me that I should not underestimate him because of his supposed ethnicity or age. I flinch as I hear his voice: “Hello, Detective Ariel.”

  Chapter 9

  -Hector-

  I sit in front of the woman. I see her flinch as I say hello to her.

  “It is like you’re back from the dead, Hector,” she tells me.

  I smile. I understand perfectly what she means by that.

  “Did you all get my note?” I ask her. She nods. “Did you and Journalist Javana work things out? I ask.

  She nods.

  “What the hell is happening, Hector?”

  There is desperation in her eyes. Detective Ariel is holding on to the last shred of what she believes to be real to her. All her life she has lived by what she can smell, touch, hear, and see. I plunged her and late Detective Knox into something that defies their reality. I inadvertently caused the death of Charles’ and Detective Knox.

  “Just a few weeks ago, there was a case of two girls who killed their friend for someone they called Slenderman,” I tell her.

  “Yes, it was on the news. Two little girls repeatedly stabbed a young boy,” she responds.

  I nod.

  “Throughout the years, what started as a photographic project done by a college class grew into its own fandom on the internet. Us psychics, no matter how powerful or how much we ignore it, we at some point must come to terms that we have to keep an eye out for things that go bump in the dark,” I tell her. “While I was traveling to New-York, I was lightly reading over the mysterious case--”

  I am cut off.

  “Why does everything you’re telling me have to do with what has happened?! That thing I fought, Agent Roswell not being real, that hotel… How is any of that possible?!” she exclaims.

  I watch her. All notion of her world is eroding away. All the experience and knowledge she has as a cop and a human being is beginning to lose its worth, as I see the stone-hard will in her eyes fading away, and be replaced by uncertainty and fear. I breathe in and exhale.

  “It is not how all of that is possible? It has always existed,” I say. “Many of us, true psychics who witness horrors that make all the wars in human history a happy fairy tale, we live our lives next to demons, ghosts, angels, and even minor gods. Some beings are just that, beings so old that heaven and hell or other religions are something they have never heard of.”

  A tear rolls down her cheek.

  “You ask how any of this is possible?”

  She nods.

  “It has always been possible. It is just that you and the rest of the normal people do not notice. You all are by choice ignorant,” I say.

  With a groan and short of breath, I stand and walk over to her. The rhythm of her heart on the monitor across her begins to to increase in beat. I watch as tears roll down her cheeks. The muscle in her jaw flexes under her skin, before she begins to sob uncontrollably. I stand beside her, but I cannot think of any way to comfort her. There are no words that can help her feel better. There is is no hug or petty sentiment that can alleviate the fear of everything you know slip through your fingers. Yet, I reach out to her to comfort her when I turn suddenly as someone comes in.

  “How are you all doing?” the doctor asks as he walks over and stands beside me. The smile he has fades away.

  “Ms. Ariel, are you well?” he asks.

  I watch Detective Ariel look at the doctor. She nods. I turn towards the doctor, looking at him as his hand gently cradles my arm.

  “Hector, it is time you returned to your bed. It is getting late, and I think Detective Ariel will need her rest as well.”

  He nods reassuringly at me. I nod in return, wanting to speak to Detective Ariel but I can tell the doctor will not budge. I walk towards the room’s exit, when I hear Detective Ariel call out my name. I turn.

  “Why me?”

  I have been working on this particular phenomenon for a while, but nothing ever manifested. Well, things did appear, but it was never exactly what I was looking for. Not until I arrived here a few weeks prior to working at the police station, when I was recommended the Saxon Hotel by a tenant at a La Quinta Inn I was staying. This old lady who was there for some sort of convention began gossiping about a very run-down place where even till this day, whispers and rumors said it was haunted.

  A day or so later I checked out and went to see this run-down hotel. When I actually found it, the old lady forgot to mention it was in complete ruin. Yet, I did not presume too much. Maybe someone still was doing business here...maybe.

  As soon as I entered the building, and that old woman sitting at the check-in desk looked up at me with a smile... I knew why people said this place was haunted. People from the outside would see this place, and see it in ruins. Yet, the moment you entered, it was like time has stopped in the early 2000’s. The air was tainted with voices of people talking on their non-touchscreen phones, the beeps and bops of pagers, and the occasional well-dressed person who handled their PDA with a swift vengeance.

  I made my way towards the check-in desk, avoiding people and the occasional child. It took longer than a few minutes, but the odd old couple finally gave me a room and key.

  After making myself comfortable in the room, and my first day became a week, then a month, until at long last it was a year before I realized what was happening. This place was not just a nest of demonic and spiritual energy, but this particular “honeypot” would lach off your energy, and in time you would become part of this reality. It is like going to sleep and never waking up, as you slowly become part of the ethereal world. It put a new spin to a movie I saw long ago called Monster House.

  “Hector?”

  “I never intended for all of this to happen, Detective Ariel. Please understand, that I did not plan this. I feared for my life, so I left bits and pieces of myself to anchor myself to this world as that place took me… My last moments were dictated by a supernatural force that can be compared to a cosmic rarity that is a black hole…”

  I turn and walk out the door, leaving her with her question unanswered. I am walking down the hallway, the screams, the crying, and the occasional conversation distilling the cold cement and the chilly
air. I could not answer her question. I do not know how. All the evidence they gathered about me was something that happened. All I left was the painting, and the letter I sent to Javana. Everything else was the free-will of those that decided to intervene. I did not choose Detective Knox to die. I did not choose Detective Ariel to come close to death. I most certainly did not choose Charles to die. That woman, Javana, the only reason that I was able to contact her was because I had heard of her from a case I had briefly followed. I had sent her an e-mail inquiring about it, but just in case she never responded, I had spoofed the e-mail to send another e-mail in a few weeks. I never thought it would at some point bring her here to me… To us.

  I push aside the curtain and made myself comfortable on the bed. Apart from my blood pressure being a little high, the doctor did not find any abnormalities. Yet he recommended I stay for a 24 hour observation.

  “Mr. Carrillo?”

  I turn to look at the male nurse as he stands beside the bed, holding the clothing I had arrived in.

  “Thank-you,” I say as I reach for my clothing.

  He smiles as he nods at me. I expected for him to leave, but instead I keep staring at him as he walks across from me and begins to make annotations on the clip-board with all my paperwork. I grimaced for a few seconds before I swallow the cold truth: I am going to have to change in front of him. I breathe in and exhale as I stand and begin to take off the thin cloth, trying very hard not to wince as the cold air causes my skin to erupt into goosebumps. My white shirt stings my skin with coldness, before a slight warmth begins to etch itself upon my skin. I unfold my jeans and give them a quick shake to stretch them out a bit, before I slide one leg in and then the other. I turn only to catch the male nurse suddenly turn his sight to the constant ping of the machine. I blush as I sit on the edge of my bed and bend down towards my shoes. I struggle for a second before I stand once more. I turn towards the male nurse.

  “Can I take off these things on my chest?” I ask.

  His cheeks are still red from being caught checking me out, and his smile is slightly strained as he speaks to me: “Sure.”

  I am about to reach into my shirt, but suddenly his hands are on my chest. I freeze as they travel down my stomach, go under my shirt, and he gently tugs at the sticky things on my chest. The heart monitor flat-lines. His fingers linger longer than they should over my skin as he retreats his hands from under my shirt.

  “Thanks,” I say, but inside I am shocked to my core. I am sure he can see my face burning red hot.

  “Take care of yourself, Hector,” he says.

  I nod as I walk past him, our hands briefly touching. I shudder, images playing through my mind. I push aside the curtain and dodge the other sick and hospital personnel as I make my way towards Javana’s room. There are somethings that I need to speak to her about.

  Chapter 10

  -Erick-

  The moment he was admitted, and I began to process him as he lay unconscious on the gurney, I knew he was like me. Yet, never had I felt someone as powerful as him. I still shudder as I remember the images that flashed through my mind. His name is Hector, but I already knew his name even before I was able to access his medical files. I have met other psychics before, but every encounter spoils the expectation of mystery and intrigue. They are normal people living normal lives, but like me, hunted by the things that go bump in the night.

  I watch him leave, after watching him strip and change into the clothing he came in. He is handsome. He has long hair with brown eyes. He is a little on the heavy side but for some reason that only added to his charm. I could not put my finger on it, but talking to him was like watching someone from the early 1900’s suddenly appear in the 21st century. The way he spoke and handled himself, was like watching a noble man. It was a fresh breath of air compared to the cries, complaining, and the last moments of the dying and sick. He was full of life and even power to say the least.

  “Is anyone there?”

  I walk over to the next gurney, pull aside the curtain, and stand before a young girl in her late twenties. Her name is Cassandra, and she was admitted to the hospital over a broken leg she got by falling off a trampoline a week ago. Usually it does not take long to cast the leg, but the doctor that is supervising her recovery found something strange in her heart, and advised her to stay for further testing.

  “Yes?” I ask as I walk over and stand beside her. She smiles, her full lips revealing white spotless teeth. “Is there a book, a movie, or something you can give me to entertain myself? I am so bored!” she tells me. I nod as I make notes on the imaginary file on my clip-board as I look at her stats. “We have a small library on the first floor. I will get you a wheelchair,” I tell her as leave. “Thanks!” she yells as I walk down the hallway, passing people who are in pain, in distress, asleep, and some even in a comma.

  I have been a nurse for the better part of six years. At first it was a difficult transition, the late hours, no sleep, hunger, and even homeless. At the end of my first year, I finally was able to get a place to stay. The long hours were not so grueling and I learned how to manage myself better concerning my health. Even then, I was lonely. My long hours did not give me much time to have a social life. I tried with my co-workers but you can guess how that worked out with their busy schedules. I tried dating, and I could keep a relationship for about a year, tops, before my partner would just get frustrated with me. Something about not seeing me enough… Weak little shits.

  The elevator produces a soft ‘ding’ as its doors open. Two doctors step back and give me room as I step into the elevator. I turn towards the button panel and press the button with the number two on it. The doctor in charge of the young girl, her office resides on the second floor.

  -Ding-

  I step to the side as one of the doctors get off on the third floor. Silence once more settles around me, as me and the doctor try very hard not to awkwardly stare at each other.

  -Ding-

  We both try to get off at the same time, bumping into each other. “I am sorry,” he says as he takes a step back and allows me to go first. “Thanks,” I respond. He nods as I walk off the the elevator. I watch as he passes by me. He nods again. I nod in return. He turns to the hallway that appears on my right, but I keep walking. I try to look through windows and see the patients, but as I pass room after room, the shades block me. At last I stand before Dr. Reese’ room and knock.

  “Yes?”

  I open the door and poke my head in. Dr. Reese is a man in his early fifties. He is wearing a blue dress shirt with black pants. His tie is red and his shoes are not the cheap ones you get at Macy's. I look at him from top to bottom, my eyes taking in the lean and buffy form that was outlined by his clothing. For a man in his fifties, he took very good care of himself. Yet everyone knew Dr. Reese by the slight touch of white that painted the crop of his hair, which is always neatly combed. His brown eyes stare at me, a smile revealing perfect white teeth.

  “A patient of yours, Mary, is asking permission to go to the library.”

  “Mary?”

  I nod as he walks over to his desk and sits down. He rummages through some files he has on his desk, before grabbing the mouse. The screen’s light paints his face and torso, his eyes reflecting the files he was accessing.

  “Mary Velasquez, 17 years old?”

  I take a step inside, losing my breath as I find myself somewhere not in his office.

  “What the hell?” I whisper.

  I take a step back, looking behind me as I bump into something. This cannot be real. It cannot.

  “Excuse me?!” exclaims someone behind me.

  “I am sorry,” I tell her as I reach down for her phone. Upon a closer look, her phone is actually a PDA. I did not think anyone still used these.

  “Watch where you’re going…” she tells me.

  I sheepishly smile and nod.

  “Excuse me?”

  I turn, facing an old lady.

  “Can I help you youn
g man? You look lost.”

  “Can you tell me where I am?” I ask her.

  “You are at the Saxon’s Hotel. Room for one?” she responds.

  I look around incredulously, for some reason relishing on the old-fashion vibe that hangs over this place. The floors bare a clean checkered surface, and the walls were decorated with a flower-patterned wallpaper. The lady that I had bumped into was in far corner typing away on her PDA. I turn to look at the couple come in with two children who were bustling with their bags. I turn again and see past the old lady, a middle-aged man raising his voice at the person behind the desk, an old man--

  “What will it be young man?”

  I pay heed to the old woman, a hint of inpatients tainting her eyes.

  “I will not be staying. If possible, do you have directory for a taxi service?”

  “Ofcourse, please follow me,” she says.

  She turns and speeds through the small crowd. I follow suit, surprised at how difficult it is to keep up with her. This insurgence of people does not help. Where did they come from? The lobby was quite empty just a few seconds ago?

  I watch the old lady walk around the desk, before sitting next to the old man. She reaches over to a small cubicle she must have had there, before she gives me a paper.

  “Here it is, but some of the phone numbers might be out of date since people rarely nowadays use taxi.”

  For a few seconds I just stand there, stumped. This is New-York, everyone uses taxi. I just nod and get the paper--

  “Erick?!”

  I look around me, the walls white and bare. The familiar chill clinging to my scrubs as I realize I am standing in Dr. Reese’ office.

  “Are you alright?” he asks.

  I watch him walk around his desk, before standing in front of me. He reaches for my forehead, his hand warm and strong.

  “You’re not hot…” he says under his breath.

  “Are you telling me I am ugly? Here I thought we had some sort of connection…” I respond, a forced smile on my face. He lightly chuckles and shakes his head, as he walks around his desk again and sits on his chair.