by Michael West
Tashima and Joss exchanged a glance across the table; both were smiling.
If she gets a few more drinks in her, Joss, Kim thought with a grin, she might just give you the time of day.
Kevin spoke up, turning the conversation back to the Woodfield. “Anybody else disappointed with today’s little field trip?”
Tashima snickered and turned away. “Man, I’m tellin’ ya, I think I just dodged a bullet today, people. The black chick buys it every time. I’m wonderin’ if I should even go back this weekend. Be like temptin’ fate or some shit.”
Joss drank from his beer, then said, “You’ve got nothing to worry about, my sweet. The virgin always lives.”
Tashima threw up her hands. “Well then shit, I’m definitely out.”
“Me too,” Kim agreed with a smile.
“Well,” Kevin grinned and gave Joss a pat on the shoulder, “at least you’re safe.”
Kim and Tashima laughed.
“Fuck you,” Joss said, and he shrugged off Kevin’s hand. “Today was like watching those ghost hunting shows on the Sci-Fi and Travel channels, the ones where people go to these haunted houses and castles, and you sit there and wait for something to happen. And you sit, and you wait, and maybe they say they feel or see something, or maybe you get to see a weird shape or a blob on a grainy video monitor, or you might hear a weird sound here and there, but you never, ever really see anything that just blows you away.”
“We got attacked by a giant rat this afternoon,” Tashima reminded with a giggle. “What more do you fuckin’ want?”
“It was a possum,” Joss corrected, “and I’ll tell you what I want. For once, I would just love to see one of these guys walk into the Amityville Horror or something, you know? Walls bleeding, stuff flyin’ around everywhere, actual ghosts zooming by that you can see right through, all of that Disney World Haunted Mansion shit!”
“You should have been in that little girl’s room with us the other night,” Kevin told him. “That book nearly hit me in the head.”
“Okay, that was pretty freaky, I’ll give you that,” Joss agreed. “But I would still like to see somebody catch an honest to God, clear image of a ghost on tape, not just a voice you can barely make out.”
He took another drink, then mimicked their recording.
“‘Take me with you,’” he said.
Kim’s head snapped up. “You heard that?”
“It was on the tape,” Joss explained, pointing at her with a breadstick. “What I can’t figure out is how you heard it.”
Her mouth hung open as she searched for an answer.
Joss didn’t wait for her. Instead, he turned to Tashima and announced, “You know, I actually saw a ghost once.”
“You’re full of so much shit.” Tashima set her empty mug down on the table. “I’m surprised your eyes aren’t brown.”
Kim’s insides drained into her feet. “When?”
“About a year ago,” he said. “This girl I was dating left her keys at work. So she asks me to drive her back to get ’em. I’m just sitting out in the parking lot, watching her walk down the third floor hall, and I see this other girl walking right behind her, following her all the way to the stairs. When my girlfriend gets back to the car, I ask her who that other woman was. She didn’t know who I was talking about, said no one had been behind her, that she’d been alone up there in the hallway.”
Kim’s eyes widened slightly and she looked from Joss to Tashima, then back again.
Before she could say anything, Kevin chimed in with a tale of his own, “In my home town, there was a railroad track where a man was supposedly killed in the 1800’s, decapitated by a train. There were stories that said you could see a light move along the track at night, like a lantern swinging back and forth as the man came back to look for his head.
“One night, I went walking along the track with a group of friends, and we saw the light swinging, saw it coming right for us.”
“So what did you do after you pissed your pants?” Joss snickered.
“We ran like hell.” Kevin grinned and looked across the table. “What about you, girls? Ever see any spirits?”
Tashima glanced at Kim, then told them about her sleepover experience with the Ouija board and the lost earring. When she’d finished, everyone turned toward Kim.
“There’s this little girl who drowned,” she said after contemplation. “I saw her once.”
Joss nodded. “Cool. Did she look like that kid in The Ring? That was creepy as hell, with her wet hair all down over her face and shit.”
“Stop,” Tashima warned.
“I could ...” The words dried up in Kim’s mouth. She lowered her eyes, trying not to let the apparition walk into her waking mind. When she folded her hands in her lap, they were cold and sweaty. “I could see her face.”
“I guess Burke really did read those questionnaires,” Kevin said.
On the first day of his class, the professor handed them all a series of questions. Kim thought nothing of it at the time. Name, address, phone number, email ... info normally used to notify students in the event of a cancellation. There was the obligatory “Why are you taking this class?” And then, at the bottom of the page, one last question ...
Have you ever had an experience you couldn’t explain?
Tashima gave a little snort. “Burke can kiss my black ass. That guy’s seriously gettin’ on my last fuckin’ nerve.” She did a mock British accent, “Do what I say, Miss Ishmail, or the goblins will follow you home.”
Kevin and Joss laughed at that.
Kim silently stirred her Diet Coke with her straw, the dead girl from the bridge echoing through her brain.
“Ready to go home.”
There was desperation in the voice. It almost sounded frightened. Had she really heard it that way at the time — or had the intervening years somehow distorted it?
“Take me with you.”
Desperation colored those words as well. It wasn’t a request. It was a plea.
Kim cleared her throat. “What if ... what if that’s what the ghosts want?”
Tashima glanced over at her and snickered. “What, they wanna come live with us?”
“No, they just want out ... I don’t know ... Burke keeps telling us that spirits get stuck here.” Kim rubbed her crucifix between her thumb and forefinger, feeling the contours of the figure. “Maybe they’re just asking us to help them get unstuck.”
20
Robby Miller had the window rolled down and his left elbow hung out of the cab, cutting through the breeze. He leaned his head to the side, traced his lips with the index finger of his left hand, as if trying to coax them apart so that the words could finally come out. “I grew up in this town,” he said at last, his right hand firmly on the steering wheel.
Tyler turned to watch the storefronts that lined Harmony’s main strip pass them by. “Really.”
“Born here, raised here, probably be buried here.”
“I know the song.”
“Right,” Robby chuckled, then turned the wheel and drove into a crowded parking lot. He found the first empty spot and shut off the engine. “We’re here.”
Tyler looked at the building and thought it had to be a joke. Cinderblock walls. No windows. A double door of tinted glass appeared to be the only way in or out. “Pole Position Show Club” blazed above the doorway in blue neon, right next to a pair of huge checkered racing flags that crossed behind the glowing red outline of a woman.
After a moment of silence, Robby climbed out of the truck, walked around, and opened the door. “Come on, Doc. I’m not getting any younger.”
“Why’d you bring me here?”
“Because I’ve had a rough day and now I wanna have a good time.” He shrugged and smiled. “What can I say, I’m into this stuff.”
“I thought you said you were worried about your reputation.”
“I didn’t want anybody to call me crazy. I don’t really give a shit if they think I’m
a pervert.”
Tyler’s eyes went from Robby to the neon lady, then back again. “Thanks, but I think I’ll wait out here.”
“Suit yourself, Doc,” Robby told him. “But if you ask me, you’ve got a better chance of being noticed sitting here alone in the parking lot. Inside, nobody in that crowd’s gonna be looking at you.”
Tyler glared at him. “You better give me some answers.”
“I’ll tell you what I know.”
Tyler fumbled with his seatbelt, then stepped from the Ford and followed Robby across the parking lot. He kept looking over his shoulder as they walked — wondering if anyone he knew would see him, wondering what he was doing here at all. When they reached the tinted doors, Robby held one open for him.
A muscular, bald man stood by a cash register at the other end of a dark foyer. He wore a tuxedo vest and bow tie, but no jacket. His white shirt glowed brightly in the black light that spilled from within the club. A clipboard was in his left hand and a cigarette was smoldering in his right. “Six dollars tonight, gentlemen,” he said without looking at them.
Robby smiled. “Hey, Sid.”
The man’s head snapped up. “Miller! How the fuck are ya, man?”
“Right as rain.” Robby handed him a twenty. “And yourself?”
“Same shit, different day.” Sid opened his register. “You paying for both?”
Robby nodded, then looked to Tyler. “You can get it next time, Doc.”
They walked onto the floor, the chords of Motley Crue’s “Girls, Girls, Girls” blaring from overhead speakers. Blue neon and florescent black lights rimmed the ceiling, providing faint illumination. Tyler had never been to a show club before, and he found it odd that the place was so dimly lit. Wasn’t the entire point of going to these places to see the women who were dancing?
The crowd filled rows of bistro tables and booths along the outer wall, college kids for the most part, and Tyler was surprised to see so many ladies among them. Some chatted and laughed amongst themselves as they drank, others sat in silence, their eyes on the center of the room.
Tyler saw what held their attention.
A woman danced across a raised, pear-shaped stage outlined in red neon. She was naked but for a tiny leather G-string and strips of black tape that covered her nipples, as if someone had drawn “Xs” across the tips of her breasts. Raven hair hung down past her shoulders and her legs were long and muscular. She grabbed hold of the brass pole that tethered the stage to the ceiling, squeezed it between her thighs, and spun around. As she twirled toward him, Tyler could not help but notice the look on her face; the frown, the vacant eyes ...
She looks as happy to be here as I do.
Robby found one of the few deserted tables and sat down.
Tyler looked at his chair to make certain it was clean, then he did the same.
“Jesus, Doc,” Robby chuckled, “are you always this uptight?”
“What can I say, I get red-faced eating at Hooters.” Tyler pulled his chair up to the table and nodded at the girl on the stage. “What’s with the electrical tape?”
“On her boobs?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s a state law. The girls can take it off, but they can’t take it all off. They can’t really be naked. No nips, no bush.”
Tyler nodded absently, his eyes on the frowning face of the stripper, wondering why she looked so sad.
“Can I get you boys something?”
They turned to look at a woman in black mechanic’s coveralls, covered in racing patches and partially unzipped to reveal her cleavage. There was a large round tray tucked under her arm.
“Yes, ma’am,” Robby said with enthusiasm. “Scotch on the rocks, if you please.”
She nodded, then glanced at Tyler.
“Miller Lite,” he told her.
The waitress flashed a smile, then walked away.
“It was bad this morning,” Robby blurted, his elbows on the table and his chin in his hands. His eyes were up on the stage, following the girl who was naked but not legally naked, the girl with the look of absolute boredom frozen on her young face.
“Shook me up pretty good, and after everything I’ve seen over the years, that’s not an easy thing to do.”
Tyler shrugged and leaned back in his chair. “Maybe it’s because I knew him.”
“Probably. Every time I go out on a run, I do my damnedest to get them to you guys with a pulse, but when it’s somebody you know ... you work that much harder. I remember the night I pulled my friend out of his burning car —”
“You said you knew something about my patient?” Tyler prodded.
“The dead Mexican?”
“Yes.”
Robby shook his head. “I can’t believe how many Mexicans we’ve got here in Indiana now. I mean, California and Texas, I can understand that, but here. Harmony’s got one stoplight and two Mexican grocery stores. Ever been to Canada, Doc?”
“Can’t say I have.”
“Every single sign up there has to be in two languages, English and French. I think that’s the way America is headed. Soon every street sign, yard sign, and sale sign will be English and Spanish.” The corner of his mouth curled into a humorless grin, but it withered quickly. “What do you know about the old Woodfield Movie Palace?”
“Nothing,” Tyler admitted. “I’d never even heard of it before they brought Martinez in.”
“When I was a teenager, it was the place to be. Only theater in town. God, it’s been years since I’ve thought about that place. I remember going there for fire inspections and the manager was always up in the office with Shelly Wells, the cashier. They were ‘counting the safe.’” He chuckled. “The employees knew what was going on. Shelly was the three B’s: blonde, beautiful, and busty. Delbert, on the other hand, was no Tom Cruise. I still don’t know what she saw in him. They were together right up to the minute he blew her head off with a double barreled Winchester.”
The waitress set their drinks down on the table, glass touching glass with a loud clink that gave both of them a start.
“The kitchen’s still open for another hour,” she said, still grinning. “Can I get you boys any buffalo wings? Maybe some onion rings?”
Robby was loud and terse, “We’re good.”
His tone didn’t seem to bother her. Perhaps she thought he was just trying to be heard above the music. She nodded and promptly disappeared, her smile never wavering.
Robby picked up his scotch. “I had a friend back then. His name was Sean, Sean Roche. He used to work at the Woodfield.” He drank deeply, and then he said, “One night, he got attacked.”
Tyler grabbed his beer by the neck. “What happened?”
“He was alone in the auditorium one night, locking and chaining all the doors, and he just happened to look up at the balcony. There was a huge fire up there about fifty years ago, worst fire anybody around here can remember. They still talk about it down at the station, even though nobody’s there that was alive when it happened — a bunch of people trampled, left to burn.” Robby paused, hesitated, then went on, “Anyway, my friend, Sean, he looks up into this balcony.
“There’s a girl up there.
“She’s maybe sixteen, seventeen, her hair tied in a ponytail, and she’s just sitting there in her seat, her eyes on the screen like she’s waiting for the next movie to start, like she didn’t even know they were closed.
“He said she looked really sad.”
Tyler nodded.
Robby continued on with his story, “So my friend wonders where this girl came from. I mean, they’d sold exactly three tickets that night.” He held up three fingers. “And exactly three people went out the front door after the movie was over. Nobody should’ve been in the Woodfield that wasn’t an employee, but there she was.
“So he calls up to her, ‘Hello. We’re lockin’ up for the night.’
“And the girl acts like she hears him. She slowly stands up, and she’s wearing a white sweater with a bl
ue poodle skirt.”
“A poodle skirt?”
“Yeah, I know. Sean thought the same thing, ‘Why is she dressed up like she just stepped out of Grease or something?’ So he’s calling up to her to come down so he can let her out, but she just stands there. Doesn’t say a word. Just stands there with her eyes on the screen and her hands on the railing.
“It looks to Sean like she might be thinking about jumping.
“So he sprints out of that auditorium and he heads for the staircase at the far end of the lobby. He runs up, taking steps two at a time, and the whole time, he’s trying to figure out what he’s gonna do when he gets there, and when he does finally get there ...”
“The girl was gone,” Tyler guessed.
Robby nodded. “The girl was gone.”
Tyler’s eyes rolled and he leaned forward. “You brought me out here to tell me some campfire story? What does any of this have to do with my —”
“Did I say I was done?” Robby asked.
Tyler settled back in his chair and took another drink, wishing the other man would get to the point.
“So Sean thinks the crazy bitch must have already jumped, right? He runs over to the railing, and he just knows he’s going to see her crumpled body draped across the seats, or maybe her head splattered on the concrete floor, but she wasn’t down there either.
“Then he hears a noise and he turns around to look at the doors on the opposite end of the balcony. They’re swinging, like somebody just walked through, so he takes off after her. He follows her into the hallway. It’s dark, so he squints, trying to get a glimpse of the girl’s white sweater, but what he sees is a rush of movement — kind of like a shadow gliding across the wall.”
Robby slowly moved his hand through the air, his fingers wiggling.
Tyler frowned, his curiosity swept away by a crashing wave of irritation. If he really did know something, why didn’t he just come right out and say it?
Either Robby didn’t notice Tyler’s frustration or he didn’t care. “Sean hears this faint sound from the darkness. It’s like ... scratch that, it was somebody crying.
“So he gets all concerned, ‘Are you okay?’”