by Dan Poblocki
Neil shrugged. Glancing back down the stairwell, he said, “Well, there’s our other option.” The darkness seemed to swell near the bottom steps like black floodwater rising steadily.
“You’re right,” said Bree. “There’s no way —”
“Shh,” said Wesley. “Listen.”
Then Neil heard it too. From back toward the youth ward, sharp footsteps echoed toward them. Clip-clip-clip-clip-clip.
“Eric?” Wesley whispered.
“Eric’s wearing sneakers,” said Bree. “Isn’t he?”
“It’s gotta be somebody else,” said Neil. The legend said Nurse Janet’s heavy heels could be heard throughout Graylock Hall. And judging from the sound, she was getting closer.
THEY RAN, TRIPPING, COLLIDING WITH ONE ANOTHER. The hallway expanded, seemed to grow. They didn’t know where they were headed, but they didn’t care, as long as it was away from the sound of the approaching footsteps. Their own footfalls now bounced off the walls. The squeaking of their rubber soles on the cracked linoleum sounded like an old-fashioned drag race, cars skidding on a wet track. For a moment, Neil imagined that was exactly what they were doing — racing. And if they lost …
Ghosts can’t hurt you, he thought. But Neil’s bruised nose continued to throb. His lips still tasted of blood. What if Wesley hadn’t been here to open that door? Would Neil and Bree have spent the night here in Graylock Hall? How long would it have taken for someone to come looking for them and how much longer to find them in that obscure upstairs hallway?
Neil sprinted, pumping his arms faster, determined to reach the door that was just ahead, to slam it shut and barricade it from whatever was chasing them.
Bree and Wesley kept up. They all careened through the doorway and found themselves in what at first appeared to be a dead end. Another large room; high-beamed ceilings; an expansive, scratched-up wooden floor. A wide, stone mantel was set deep into the far wall. A fireplace blackened with soot opened like a howl beneath it. This room had once been used for entertaining — rotting leather couches and wide circular tables were pushed against the wall in front of a wall of built-in bookcases. An enormous Persian rug had been rolled up and shoved underneath the row of windows that looked out over the lake.
A loud ruckus erupted from a far corner of the room. Turning, the trio watched in horror as a massive black entity expanded, pulsating and shivery, all the way up to the ceiling.
Wesley screamed.
Moments later, he covered his mouth, attempting to contain his nervous laughter. It was only birds. Several large crows circled overhead, cawing, taunting them, before settling back down near the fireplace mantel.
A strong breeze came in through the cracked windows, where the birds had found entry. Below the windows, beside the carpet, the floor looked as though it was sagging.
Judging by the view of the pines outside, Neil imagined that the gymnasium might be directly below them now. He wiped the remaining blood from his face and stepped farther into the room to get a better look. If they’d entered the hospital just outside, they could easily find their way back to the small bridge and the chain-link fence. They’d only have to wait for Eric to —
Neil swayed forward as the floor dipped. He shouted. The wood gave way and sharp splinters gouged his shin. Panic. Pain. Bree and Wesley rushed forward, but he called out, “Stay back!” They obeyed. He breathed through the stabbing sensations that ran up and down his leg. “The entire floor could give out.”
“Then, you get away from there too!” Bree cried.
The floor began to creak. Neil imagined a wide wooden mouth opening up and swallowing him. It would be a long drop to the gymnasium floor below.
Neil carefully sat and pulled his leg from the sharp edges of the small hole. As soon as he’d gotten himself out, he plucked several long splinters from the raw wound. He tried to brush away some of the dust and dirt from his skin, but already the pain had begun to magnify. His skin had split deeply in several places. It was tender. Starting to swell and bead with blood. He felt hands on his shoulders. Looking up, he saw Bree. She slowly pulled him away from the weak patch of flooring.
“Are you okay?”
“I don’t know.” The room was spinning. Neil wanted to puke. But he also felt like laughing. Strange. He knew that nothing about this was funny. They’d made a huge mistake coming here. And the question now was: How would they get out?
The birds on the mantel mocked them. CAW. CAW. CAW. CAW.
“Oh, shut up,” said Wesley, throwing the birds a nasty look. “Can you walk, Neil?”
Neil struggled but managed to stand up. He groaned as the pain seemed to burst his leg into tiny pieces. “I don’t know,” he said, gasping. “I hope so.” Bree stood on one side of him and Wesley on the other. He put his arms around their shoulders. Together, they managed to move toward the possibility of safety near the bookcases.
“What now?” said Bree. “We’re going to have to go back to that staircase down the hallway, aren’t we?”
“What if Nurse Janet is out there waiting for us?” Wesley asked.
Footsteps echoed near the wall directly behind them. When they turned, one of the tall shelves seemed to shake back and forth. The three were all too surprised to move, to speak. The shelves crept forward, hinged on one side. It was a hidden door. A stone passage appeared. Inside, darkness wheezed at them.
But no … it was not a wheezing sound. Something walked. Shoes against stone. Coming toward them.
A HUMAN SHAPE MATERIALIZED. When it stumbled into the dimming light of the ballroom, it let out a choking sound, as if it hadn’t taken a breath in years. Seconds later, when their eyes adjusted and their brains caught up to their imaginations, Bree, Wesley, and Neil realized that this was no mysterious figure.
This was Wesley’s brother.
“Eric?” said Wesley. “What are you doing in there?”
Eric glanced up at the group. Taking in the scene of minor carnage — the blood now dripping down Neil’s leg, the hole in the middle of the floor, the crows tapping curious claws on the mantelpiece, and the looks of horror on the trio’s faces — Eric shook his head in astonishment. “Sheesh. I keep missing all the good stuff,” he said.
Bree scoffed. “Good stuff? Where have you been?”
He told them. Upstairs, he’d gone farther down the dark hallway, past room 13, twisting and turning through several wings of the hospital, as if in a daze, until he realized he was entirely lost. He’d ended up in an administrative office and stumbled across a dark crack in one of the stone walls. Upon examination, he discovered what appeared to be a clandestine and very dusty stairwell spiraling downward like a castle turret. At a certain point during his descent, he’d heard what sounded like familiar voices. He pushed his weight against a wooden panel and found his brother and his new friends staring at him.
“We need to go,” said Bree, barely able to look at him. “Now. Neil is seriously hurt.”
“Not seriously —” Neil started, but when she threw him a sharp look, he shut his mouth.
“I think this is the best way out,” said Eric, pointing back toward the passage. “It might get us down to the ground level at least.”
“Might?” said Bree.
“The gym is right below us, right, Neil?” said Wesley. “We can crawl out the window where we came in.”
Once outside, Neil realized that he’d been holding his breath since reaching the gymnasium floor.
As they’d climbed, one by one, through the broken window, he almost expected a booming voice to call out, echoing through the cavernous room, telling them to stop, that they were not allowed to leave. They would turn to find men directly behind them, wearing white coats and Halloween masks with wide plastic grins, carrying straight jackets and leather ankle restraints to bind them and drag them all screaming back up to room 13, where they would finally meet Nurse Janet face-to-face.
But that did not happen.
Of course.
The sun
had fallen behind the horizon of trees across the small body of water. It was getting late. The aunts were most certainly waiting for them, worrying. They made their way back toward the small bridge. When Neil had to kneel down and crawl under the gap in the fence, he cried out. The gashes on his legs seemed to open up and wail at him. Wesley pushed him forward, and Bree helped him stand up again. “You need a doctor,” said Bree, shaking her head.
“I’m fine,” Neil insisted.
Wesley shook his head. “You look like the last survivor in one of those bloody slasher movies. For real.”
They ventured back toward the main road. They were all covered in dirt and grime, their hair sweat-slicked to their scalps. The shoulder seam in Bree’s formerly cute blue T-shirt had separated, revealing a small scrape. How did this happen? Neil wondered.
Neil understood the stories now — why visitors to the hospital in the woods only came out here once before deciding that it had been one trip too many. But was this a story he should tell to his friends during lunch at school? They’d think he was crazy. And if they ever found out the truth about his mother’s problems, his classmates would surely start telling stories about him too.
Someone stepped out of the woods in front of them, blocking their path to the main road. A tall man. His big head was shaved bald. A long gray beard grew from sunken cheeks. He looked older than the aunts by many years, yet his shoulders were broad, his arms muscular. He wore a black-and-red plaid shirt and dirt-dusted dark jeans.
The group paused. Neil was too exhausted to even react.
The man crossed his arms, his brow crinkled. He looked as if he knew exactly where they had been and what they’d been up to. But before he could scold them, he seemed to digest their appearance, taking special notice of Neil’s bloody leg. He sighed, as if he’d seen this kind of thing before. “Graylock,” said the man, his voice low and rough. This wasn’t a question and thus gave the group no option to deny the accusation. He shook his head. “When are you all going to learn? It’s a dangerous place. Was before they closed it … Still is.” He nodded at the woods behind him. “I’ve lived back there for years, and I’ve seen enough of this nonsense for a lifetime. Always blood. Always. Come on. I’ll drive you kids home.” He nodded at Neil. “At the rate you’re walking, you won’t make it before midnight.” He turned around and headed toward the building in the distance, the roof of his house barely visible through the thick foliage.
None of them moved or said a word. But Neil knew what they were thinking: Never accept a ride from strangers, a rule that had been drilled into them from infancy.
The man turned back and glared at them. “What’s the holdup?”
“We don’t know you,” said Eric. “Sorry.”
“Well, I know you,” said the man. “You’re the Baptiste boys. I used to work with your father at the mill.” He glanced at Bree and Neil. “You must be Anna and Claire’s niece and nephew. They told me you were coming up from New Jersey. I’m Andy. I stop at the pie shop every morning for coffee.” The group stared at him in shock. “Don’t believe me? I can call them right now and tell them what you were all up to out here.”
“No!” said Bree. “No, thank you. Please. We don’t want to worry them.”
“Probably too late for that,” said Andy. “How long have you all been playing around out here?” Neil wanted to tell him that they hadn’t been playing around at all, that “playing around” was the opposite of what they’d been doing, but neither he nor any of the others said a word. Andy smiled softly, letting them know he was merely poking fun. “Come on. My truck is right up here.”
CLIMBING INTO THE FRONT SEAT OF ANDY’S PICKUP, Neil cried out in pain. It felt as if someone had replaced his shinbone with a hot iron spike. Sitting behind the wheel, Andy glanced over at Neil’s injury. “Maybe I should take you to see Dr. Simon down on Yarrow Street. Your aunts would probably want to do the same thing anyway.” Bree, Wesley, and Eric had climbed into the truck bed and could not hear this exchange. Neil didn’t know what to say. As much as his leg hurt, he was kind of happy that it was a distraction from the nightmare they’d encountered that afternoon. “I’ll drive you by Anna and Claire’s,” said Andy. “If they’re home, they’ll take care of it. If not, we’re all going to the doctor.” Looking down at Neil’s leg, he sucked his teeth, wincing dramatically. “Graylock sure can bite.”
At the aunts’ house, the driveway was empty save for the Baptiste brothers’ bikes, which were still propped against the front porch. Andy slowed but didn’t stop, zipping toward the center of Hedston, and Neil cringed. Where could the aunts be? Shouldn’t they have been home from the grocery store by now? He supposed he deserved to feel terrible. He had done the same thing to them after all — left the house for the asylum in the woods with absolutely no hesitation, no mention of where he was going.
Hadn’t Aunt Anna been watching him cautiously since he’d arrived, as if she had something to worry about? If he wasn’t more careful, she might talk Aunt Claire into sending him to stay with his uncle in Jersey City, or worse, back home to his mother. He could forget about escaping from thoughts of his parents then.
Five minutes later, after Andy parked in front of a regal-looking white house, Bree hopped over the edge of the truck bed and opened Neil’s door for him. “Where are we?” she whispered.
Neil pointed over her shoulder. A small black sign was posted on a slightly tilted pole in the center of the white house’s large lawn. It read DR. JULIUS SIMON — FAMILY MEDICINE.
Leading the group up the stone path to the front door, Andy said, “Dr. Simon is an old friend. It’s late, but I’m sure he’ll see you.” Andy tried the knob, but it was locked. He rang the doorbell. A few seconds later, an annoyed-looking elderly woman answered. She wore a floor-length white cotton nightgown — Strange, thought Neil, since it was still daylight. When she noticed that Andy was the caller, her scowl softened. “Hi, Maude,” he said. “We’ve got a bit of an emergency here.” He turned around and indicated the motley tribe standing behind him. Neil couldn’t help but blush. “Can we pull Julius away from Wheel of Fortune for a few minutes?”
Maude smiled reluctantly. “He won’t be happy. But if it’s an emergency …” Andy pointed at Neil’s leg. “My goodness,” she said. “That looks bad.” Wide-eyed, she stepped aside and held out her hand, indicating that they were free to enter.
She led them down a long hall — the walls of which were covered with dark-blue floral wallpaper — to a small sitting room crammed with a variety of cushy antique chairs. Most of the upholstery was stained or ripped or simply worn-out. Even so, Neil took comfort in getting off his feet as soon as he could. The others sat down too.
“Be right back,” Andy said, and followed Maude through another door, leaving them alone in the waiting room.
“I want to call the aunts,” said Bree glancing around, looking for a phone.
“They weren’t home when we passed by,” Neil said. “Maybe they’re out looking for us.”
“We’re so dead,” said Bree, plopping down in the chair next to Neil.
“Yeah,” said Wesley. “Our mom and dad aren’t going to be too happy with us, either.”
Eric leaned forward on the couch where he sat with his brother. From the back of his pants, he pulled the file folder he’d taken from the office in the youth ward.
“You stole that?” said Bree.
“So?” said Eric. “Nobody else seemed to want it.”
Bree sighed. The elation she may have felt at having met him seemed to have finally leaked entirely out of her.
“What’s in it?” Wesley asked, peeking over his brother’s shoulder.
“Not sure,” said Eric. “Doctor’s notes. Medical history. Stuff like that.” He flipped the folder over and showed them the name that had been typed on the tab: Caroline Crowne. “She was sixteen. The doctor wrote down that she was suffering from ‘hysteria.’ Whatever that means.”
“It means they thought she
was too emotional,” said Bree. “Lots of women in the eighteen hundreds used to be locked up for simply speaking their minds.”
“Yeah,” Eric said, “but this girl wasn’t locked up in the eighteen hundreds. She seemed to really need help.” He opened the folder and shuffled through several pages. “She’d attempted suicide several times. She was in Graylock for her own protection … at least that’s what it says here.”
“I can’t imagine that being stuck there would make anyone feel less depressed,” said Neil.
“Not all mental hospitals are like Graylock,” said Bree. “The one Mom’s at is really —”
“Bree!” Neil shouted.
His sister covered her mouth and closed her eyes, as if she couldn’t stand to be in the same room with the words she’d just spoken.
“Your mom’s in a mental hospital?” Eric asked, closing the folder and placing it on the coffee table.
Neil glared at Bree, who refused to open her eyes. “It’s not a mental hospital,” he said. “She goes to a clinic in New Jersey. Outpatient. Which means she doesn’t have to spend the night there or anything. She’s just been … upset since our dad moved to California.” He sighed. “It’s why we’re up here in Hedston. Our aunts invited us to stay until she’s feeling better.” He didn’t bother meeting their eyes.
“She’ll be fine soon,” Bree said. “Everything is going to be okay.”
“I’m sure it will be,” said Eric quietly.
A door across the room swung open and hit the wall. A short, thin man dressed in a white coat breezed into the space. “All righty, then,” he said. “Where’s my patient?”
IN THE SMALL WHITE ROOM, Neil sat atop crisp paper on the exam table. “So, Andy tells me he found you kids playing in the state woods?” said Dr. Simon.
“He said that?”
The doctor nodded. “What he didn’t tell me was how you did this to yourself.”