Whispers

by Lynn Moon

  I stared at my lunch tray, the spaghetti and one meatball looking more like puked-worms and a dirty rock than eatable food. Not to mention that it was still painful to swallow.

  “Have something against your lunch again?” Hunter asked, taking the seat next to me.

  “Not hungry.”

  “People sure are nosy around here.” Hunter took a bite of his sandwich.

  “Yep.”

  “I don’t know about you,” he said, taking another bite, “but me and Quinton have been bombarded. What happened to her neck? Was she attacked? Did she catch a disease? It’s been crazy this morning.”

  “Rats.”

  “Rats?” Staring at me, he grinned.

  “It’s my answer to everything.” I smiled now. “We have very large rats that strangle people in their sleep.”

  “You have rats?” Charlie asked, taking the seat on my other side. “Carrie Jones is telling everyone that you have huge rats in your house.”

  “Well, what else would cause those bruises on her neck?” Hunter replied. “In fact, I remember seeing one the other day. And, Musetta, didn’t I hear Katrina say something about an exterminator coming over?”

  I nodded, laughing.

  “See? Rats.” Hunter finished off his sandwich, winking at Charlie.

  “Okay,” she replied. “Rats it is.”

  “Hey, Musetta.” It was Quinton this time. “Did you tell Hunter about the wall?”

  “What wall?” Hunter asked.

  I glanced at Charlie. In her eyes I could see her fear—almost taste it. I guess what happened on Friday bothered her more than I realized. Being visited every week for the last two years must have damaged me somehow. Made me resistant to the fear. Why aren’t I more upset over what happened? My whole family on my mom’s side came running to support me. And I acted as if there was nothing wrong. What is wrong with me?

  “Musetta?” Charlie nudged me with her elbow. “Hunter asked you a question.”

  “Oh, sorry,” I replied. “It was strange. There were a lot of people in the kitchen talking, and when I was on the stairs with the sheriff, we couldn’t hear anything. I just thought we should have heard muffled voices.”

  Hunter glanced out at the schoolyard. I could tell he was thinking. But thinking of what?

  “We need to check out your house,” he said. “When can we come over?”

  “I have a doctor’s appointment this afternoon. And my regular visit to my shrink on Thursday. So, you tell me.”

  “Can you two go to Musetta’s tomorrow after school?” Hunter asked.

  “I can go over anytime,” Quinton replied. “I live across the street.”

  “I don’t see why not,” Charlie said. “Besides, my mom said I needed to spend more time with Mue. Help her cope with things.”

  “Okay then,” Hunter said. “It’s a date. Tomorrow after school.”

  CHAPTER 9

  WHILE WAITING FOR MY friends to show up, I thought about yesterday afternoon and how horrible it was. My gynecologist appointment really sucked. I didn’t know which was worse, my dad’s ghost or the doctor. Both violated me in ways that made me want to lie down and die. Between all the probing and the very personal questions, I faded into something I never knew existed. A dark and quiet place that was almost comforting. As soon as I got home, I scrubbed my body under the hottest water I could stand. The steam filled the bathroom. What felt great was sitting on the shower floor and screaming as the water poured around me. I yelled as loud as I wanted.

  With all my aunts sleeping at my house, we were packed. But it didn’t seem to bother any of them. I guess if you’re born to a family with six kids, all girls, privacy never existed. Therefore, you can’t miss something you’ve never had.

  Now sitting on the steps by the iron gate, I watched as Quinton jogged across the road toward me. My first memory of him was of his dad teaching him to ride his bike. We must have been around four years old, because I didn’t get my first bike until I was in kindergarten. Quinton had his bike way before I had mine. I was always so jealous.

  “Hey,” he said, sitting down beside me. “How’s the crowded house?”

  “Crowded.”

  As we talked, Charlie’s mom pulled up with Charlie in the front seat and Hunter in the back. She waved as the car stopped. “How are you doing, sweetheart?”

  “I’m doing better,” I replied. “My voice is back.”

  “I’m glad,” she said. “If you need anything—anything at all—you just let me know.”

  “I will, thank you.”

  As we climbed the steps together, Charlie asked, “How’d they get your book bag down?”

  “Sheriff Jim had the fire department get it with that big ladder truck. It was cool to watch. They kept asking how in the world it got up there.”

  “Did you tell them a ghost did it?” Quinton asked.

  “Yep, but they didn’t believe me.”

  My kitchen was empty except for Katrina. She was busy cooking a lot of food.

  “Hey guys,” she said. “Hungry?”

  We shook our heads and aimed for the stairs. Before we reached the second floor, my aunts voices filled the hallway.

  “Come, I’ll introduce you,” I said as we walked into the living room. “Then we’ll eat.”

  “Whoa!” Hunter took a step back when he saw everybody. “You’ve got yourself some aunts.”

  “I know.”

  As we entered, all eyes fell on us. I was used to it, but I could almost feel Charlie’s anxiety. She was an only child and so was Quinton. She’d met everyone before, but only really knew Delphie and Roe.

  “Hi,” I said, walking over to the eldest. “These are my best friends. You know Charlie and Quinton. But this is Hunter. His mother’s the new judge. Took Dad’s place.” Glancing over at my mom, I added, “Sorry.”

  “Sorry for what?” she asked. “Life does go on.”

  My aunts glanced at her and nodded.

  I loved my huge and crazy family. It bothered me that I only saw everyone on holidays and family events, such as my dad’s funeral. At least they were all here now.

  “This is Zoey Bree. She’s married and lives in Oregon with her husband and four kids.”

  My friends nodded. Hunter walked over and held out his hand.

  “Nice to meet you,” he said.

  “I read about your mother. Very impressive background. She’s African American and your father’s white?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Hunter replied. “I think he’s German or something.”

  “German? Maybe you’re related to us. Our heritage is German and Lebanese. You’re a very handsome young man. And if you do even half as good as your mother, it’ll be impressive.”

  “Thank you,” he replied.

  “This is Bella, short for Arabella. She lives in Texas with her husband and son.”

  “Nice to see you two again,” she said to Quinton and Charlie. “And very nice to meet you, Hunter.”

  “Nice to meet you too,” Hunter replied, shaking her hand and nodding.

  “This here is Aurora Rae, or Arie, as we call her. She lives in Alaska.”

  “Nice to meet you, Hunter, and great to see you two again,” Arie said. “Will you be staying for dinner?”

  “Yes, they will,” I replied as Hunter shook her hand.

  “And you know my mom, Auntie Delphie, and Auntie Roe.” Hunter nodded to them. “Well, this is my family on my mom’s side. Their parents died a few years ago. So I only have grandparents on my dad’s side.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” Hunter said, lowering his head.

  “Such a sweet boy,” Aunt Zoey said, standing to hug him.

  “I’m sweet too,” Quinton added, lowering his eyes.

  “Yes, you are,” Aunt Bella said, hugging him too.

  “You’re all great kids,” my mom said, laughing. “So what are you going to do today?”

  “Just hang out like you’re doing,” Charlie said, grabbing each
boy by an arm. “So let’s go hang out.”

  Laughing, we ran down the stairs and into the kitchen. On the table were several plates and glasses. A white cake covered in coconut flakes and a carton of milk sat waiting for us in the middle.

  “Sit and eat something,” Katrina said, a knife flailing in the air. “Dinner won’t be until about seven or so.”

  Hunter and Quinton each ate two pieces. But Charlie and I couldn’t finish even one. With full stomachs, we headed for my basement.

  “It’s over here,” I said after unlocking the door and stepping inside.

  “We think it’s a door. But we can’t get to it to check it out,” Charlie added.

  Quinton and Hunter stared into the darkness.

  “Flashlights?” Hunter asked.

  “I think there’s one down here somewhere,” I said.

  “Here’s a light,” Quinton said, flipping a switch. “But it’s not working over there.”

  “Hey,” Charlie said, staring into the darkness. “Looks like someone took out the bulbs. They’re gone!”

  Hunter picked up a box and placed it on top of another one. As he and Quinton moved the junk around, Charlie and I searched the basement. It wasn’t until the boys were halfway to the mysterious door that I finally found a flashlight.

  “Here yah go.”

  “Thanks,” Quinton said, aiming the light toward the mysterious door. “Yep, that’s definitely a door alright.”

  “Where would it go?” I asked. “There’s no more house over there. That’s just the backyard. And the yard is even with the first floor. The dirt only goes as high as those windows over there.”

  “Only one way to find out,” Hunter said. “Hold the light for us while we move more stuff.”

  Quinton helped, and within a few minutes they had made a small path just wide enough for one person to walk through. With Hunter at the front, Quinton second, Charlie third, and me at the end, we stared through the dingy shadows at an old, white door.

  “Is it locked?” I asked, pushing against Charlie.

  Hunter shrugged. As he reached for the doorknob, I cringed. The knob turned, and we held our breaths. As he pulled on the handle, the door creaked and groaned before opening. The eerie sound filled me with mixed emotions. I wasn’t sure if I should be excited or scared. But instead of coming face-to-face with a real ghost, we stared onto a blank canvas of darkness.

  “Hand me the flashlight,” Hunter said.

  Passing the light from one to the other, it finally reached Hunter. He pointed the light straight into a wall that looked more like a very dirty sidewalk.

  “What in the world?” he said. “There’s nothing here. Maybe the foundation for the house?”

  “What do you mean there’s nothing there?” I asked, squeezing my way past Charlie and Quinton. “There’s gotta be something!”

  Together, we stared at the dirty wall.

  “This doesn’t make any sense,” I argued. “Why would anyone build a door to nowhere? There’s a frame here. This has to be a real door.” Allowing my mind to fly free, I thought of all the reasons someone would do something so stupid. Then it hit me like a ton of bricks. “Charlie, can you grab the shovel that’s by the furnace, please?”

  “Sure,” she replied.

  I stared at the dirty wall. Running my hand over the solid concrete, dirt crumbled and fell to my feet. It seemed solid, but then again, it felt weak and fragile.

  Quinton tapped my shoulder and I almost jumped into Hunter’s arms. Quinton nodded as he gently pushed me to one side.

  “You’re hurt. I’ll do it. Stand back,” he said to me and Hunter.

  Using the shovel, he hit the dirty wall several times. Although the shove pinged against the slab of concrete, it sounded hollow.

  “We can break this down,” Quinton said, hitting the wall again.

  “I’ve got this!” Hunter said from behind us. When did he leave my side? “Let me have a go at it.”

  Watching Hunter struggle with the heavy pickaxe, I had to laugh. Holding it over his right shoulder and grinning, he looked like he was about to murder somebody.

  “It’s all yours,” Quinton said, moving out of his way.

  We sat next to the furnace to wait. Each strike of Hunter’s pickaxe against the flimsy wall sent chills of anticipation through me. Several times, we ducked as sharp spatters of dirt and rock flew past. When Hunter’s energy ran out, Quinton took over. The boys continued to work at destroying my basement wall as I searched for light bulbs. Since someone has broken the ones that were inside the light sockets, I had to be careful not to get shocked. But with Charlie’s help, the basement soon lit up and the shadows disappeared. When Quinton finally stopped for a break, Charlie gave it a try. She gave up after just trying to pick the darn thing up.

  “That’s heavy,” she said. “I can’t even move it.”

  The boys had made quite a dent. Surprised that my mom hadn’t come down to see what we were doing, I stared over Quinton’s shoulder at the dirty rock wall. Someone definitely took their time disguising this stuff to look like good ole’ mother nature. But why? As I stared at it, my anger swirled.

  “I broke through,” Quinton said, touching the small hole. “But it’s not big enough for us to get through.”

  Hunter flashed his light into the darkness. “Stairs?”

  “Stairs?” Quinton repeated.

  “I can see stairs,” Hunter said.

  “We’ve got to break through!” I said.

  “We’ll need to clean up this mess first,” Quinton said, looking around.

  “I’ll get the wheelbarrow,” Charlie offered. “There’s one up front.”

  We dug into that wall for what felt like hours. With the four of us working as a team, the dirt and rock quickly filled the wheelbarrow. After finally making a hole we could fit through, we easily spotted the stairs that led down, to somewhere unknown.

  “Cement stairs?” Quinton asked, brushing debris away with his hands.

  “Yep, definitely not wood,” Hunter said.

  “Where do they go?” I asked.

  “Only one way to find out,” Quinton replied, shining the light down into the gloom.

  Quinton squeezed through the hole first. His light faded and the hole again became dark.

  “Be careful!” Quinton yelled out. “There’s lots of dirt and rock down here.”

  “Here,” Charlie said, handing us a flashlight. “I found them by the furnace.”

  “Hey, thanks,” I said, squeezing through the opening behind Hunter as more of the rock and dirt fell away.

  Flashing my light down and into the darkness, large eyes glared back at me.

  Quinton yelled, “Ow! Not in the eyes.”

  “Sorry,” I said, glancing over at Charlie, who smiled.

  I waited until Quinton and Hunter disappeared before using my flashlight again. By the time Charlie stepped through, the doorway was almost cleared. The stairs dropped for five or so steps before turning and dropping a few more.

  “I’m glad there’s a railing here,” Charlie said, staying close behind me. “Otherwise these stairs would be dangerous.”

  “I’d hate to fall down ‘em,” I agreed.

  It seemed like we’d climbed down into Hell itself. Except the place wasn’t hot. In fact, it was cold. The deeper we stepped, the cooler the air. The framed walls looked like solid blocks of concrete. The whole place gave me the creeps. I wasn’t sure if I was shaking from the cold or from being afraid. Then again, what difference does it make?

  “About time you two got here,” Quinton said when we finally reached the bottom.

  “What’s down here?” I asked.

  “See for yourself,” Quinton said, aiming his beam alongside mine down the long narrow passageway.

  “A tunnel?” Charlie asked.

  Quinton nodded. “A tunnel.”

  “Where’s Hunter?” I asked.

  “Got tired of waiting for you two. So we explored a little. This
tunnel turns a few times before heading straight out. A little way down, we found another set of stairs that leads straight up. Hunter wanted to see where they went. Let’s find him.”

  Walking through the tunnel with just flashlights didn’t feel very safe. I prayed we wouldn’t fall off a cliff or something. Are there cliffs in tunnels?

  “Are there spiders down here?” Charlie asked.

  “I doubt it,” Quinton replied. “Too cold.”

  The sound of someone coming toward us sent chills up my back. Before I could panic, Hunter’s light appeared from the darkness.

  “Where did the stairs go?” Quinton asked.

  “You will not believe this,” Hunter replied. “They go up quite a way before you get to a platform. There’s an odd-looking door and more stairs that go up. The door has a panel in it. When I pushed on it, it slid open. And I was looking into the hallway on the second floor of Musetta’s house.”

  “The second floor to my house?” My heart pounded, begging to be set free. Dizzy and feeling sick, I sat down on the dirt floor.

  “Musetta?” Charlie asked, kneeling next to me. “Are you okay?”

  “Someone’s been breaking into my house,” I whispered, holding back my tears. “It’s obvious now.”

  “But who?” she asked.

  “Let’s follow this tunnel and find out,” Hunter replied.

  “I want to see what these doors look like from inside my house,” I added. “Why didn’t we notice them before?”

  “The walls inside the passageways are finished off, which explains why you’ve never heard anyone walking around at night,” Hunter explained.

  “Finished off?” I asked.

  “The walls are not bare, no studs. All finished. Just like in your bathroom. Not to mention that your whole house is full of carved paneling. It’d be easy to add in hidden doors and walkways between the walls.”

  “Great,” I muttered. “That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

  Standing up, my head still wanted to spin. Shaking it off, I followed Hunter and Quinton through the darkness. Walking down the dark tunnel, I knew it wasn’t a ghost that visited me. And if my father has not returned from the grave, then who is it?