by Amy Cross
Nurse Winter's the kind of woman you definitely don't want to cross, so I stand obediently in front of her desk while she runs through her list of complaints .She thinks the bins need to be emptied more regularly; she says a pile of vomit sat undiscovered behind a curtain for two days; she wonders why the stairs still creak; she insists the pipes have to be changed in order to stop the infernal banging that plagues the west wing of the building at night; she wants the basement cleaned out and fixed up; and, most of all, she wants the little cemetery put right.
That last point, I kind of agree with. When someone dies at Lakehurst, there are two options: either their family claim the body and take them away, or they get buried in our little cemetery, a few hundred meters from the main house. Lately, the cemetery's become overgrown and shabby, mainly because we don't have a gardener. The garden's not my job, but Nurse Winter seems to have decided that if someone's going to get things sorted out there, it'd better be me. She's not offering me any extra money; she's just telling me that, as of this meeting, the garden is my responsibility. Hiding my sighs, I have no option but to accept what she's telling me. I can't stand up to her. If she wants me to go out there and fix the garden, then that's exactly what I'll have to do.
"And what's this crap about a nun?" she asks eventually, just when I think she's almost finished with me. There's real anger in her voice, as if she finds me disgusting. Frankly, I'm surprised that she's spending so long bawling me out. I'm not important around here, and I guess she's just acting like this because she knows I can't fight back. She knows I'll just stand here and take her crap. Perhaps that's in my job description.
"A nun?" I say, panicking slightly. I have to stay calm, hide my true feelings, and try to come up with an explanation that'll put her off the scent. The last thing I want is to let Nurse Winter know anything about the nun. Nurse Winter's a cruel, vindictive bitch, and I want to just keep off her radar as much as possible.
"Don't bullshit a bullshitter, Morris," she says firmly. "I've heard from three different people that you've started spreading some cock-and-bull story about a ghostly nun who appears in the grounds."
Clearing my throat, I realize the game's up. Sure, I mentioned the nun to a couple of patients, but only to scare them. Sometimes I like to tell them ghost stories when I find one of them alone. The fuckers need to be shaken up a little, and putting the breeze up them's kind of a hobby of mine. "I can't help what I see," I say, deciding that my best option is to tell the truth, but to mix in a few lies along the way. "I ain't told nobody about it. There ain't no three people that I've -"
"You see a nun?" she asks, interrupting me, her voice filled with ridicule and spite.
I shrug. "Like I said, I can't help what I see."
Nurse Winter stares at me for a moment. "And what does this nun do?" she asks. "Does she talk to you? Does she tell you things? Does she dance and sing? Does she suck your fucking cock, Morris?"
"She's just there," I say, bristling at the way this bitch is talking. No-one has a right to talk like this. For the first time, I find myself starting to get so angry, I'm not certain I can hold back. "Sometimes she just stands there and stares, but sometimes she asks about the people we've buried."
"And how do you know she's a ghost?" Nurse Winter asks.
"The way she just appears without me hearing her walk over," I reply, "and the way she seems to come from nowhere. There's something about her face, too. She looks so sad, but peaceful. I can't explain it. If you want to know, you'll just have to see her for yourself."
"See her for myself?" For the first time this morning, Nurse Winter smiles. "Are you serious?" she asks. "I've got a million things I need to do today before I start running around with you, looking for ghostly nuns that don't even exist."
"I understand," I say, relieved that she's not coming with me. This bitch has no right to see anything so beautiful. She probably couldn't see anything anyway, not with her mind clouded by anger.
"I mean, come on," she continues. "Is that the best you can do? A ghostly nun? Your imagination couldn't excrete a slightly better idea? This is like something straight out of the pages of some corny comic book."
"My imagination's got nothing to do with it," I say carefully, wanting to avoid coming across as being too antagonistic. "I see what I see, just like anybody. I didn't ask to see her."
"Why would a nun haunt Lakehurst?" she asks. "Where would she come from, and why would she come here? And, no offense Morris, but why would she appear only to you?" She pauses for a moment. "Do you know how many nuns have been to Lakehurst? Zero. This isn't a fucking monastery, Morris, and it never has been. You've been reading too many cheap dime-store comic books, and I'd advise you to stop. Clearly you have an impressionable mind and you can't handle powerful suggestions." She stares at me for a moment. "I'm going to keep a closer eye on you from now on, Morris. Do you understand? I'm going to watch and make sure you don't start causing problems. You've had an easy ride so far, but you need to buck your ideas up and work harder, okay?"
I grit my teeth, forcing myself to hold back. There's a part of me that wants to march around the desk, grab this bitch's head and slam it against the wall, then poke out her eyes and rip out her tongue. I want to beat her senseless and then, just to make her realize what a terrible mistake she's made, I could whisper in her ear about all the terrible things I'm going to do to her. While I'm at it, I could rip open her dress and get a good look at her titties. The one good thing about Nurse Winter is that she's got a good body, and I bet those lips could suck my cock pretty well. I'm a strong guy still, strong enough to hold her down. I could do it. There's nothing stopping me. I've taken her shit for long enough, it's time I showed her that I -
I blink, and suddenly I see a figure standing by the window. Nurse Winter stares at me, oblivious to the fact that there's such a beautiful apparition in the room. I'm immediately overcome by a feeling of peace and calm, as if the ghost has come to remind me of the need to restrain myself. I can't do anything bad, not when such a beauty is watching me. Nurse Winter's lucky. I bet she doesn't realize how close she just came to having me lose my temper.
"What are you staring at, Morris?" she asks.
"Nothing," I reply.
"You're creeping me out," she continues.
I take a deep breath. If you ask me, Nurse Winter seems way too angry about this. It's as if she's scared. She says she doesn't believe in ghosts, but I don't believe her. "I've told you everything I know," I say eventually. "I don't see that it's a danger, but I promise I haven't told a soul about it."
She sighs. "I don't need this," she says. "Morris, I don't care what you see, but I do care about the patients here, and they're vulnerable. If you start filling their heads with stories about ghost nuns, do you know what'll happen? Most of them will start seeing her. They'll start swearing that they've seem these apparitions in their rooms at night, and no amount of drugs will stop them from believing this. It'll be like that fucking burned man bullshit all over again. Do you understand the potential severity of this situation?"
I nod. I don't know why she's making such a big fuss about this. After all, she's the one who brought it up. I don't even know how she knows about the ghost, especially if - as she claims - she's never seen it. She seems real angry, though.
"Go on," she says, sighing. "Get out of here. Go and do what I asked in the garden. And don't talk about nuns to anyone. Got it?"
Once I'm out of her office, I head through to the little store-room where the gardener used to keep his tools. I used to like the gardener; he was a nice old guy, and very easy to talk to. One day, a few years ago, he just upped and left all of a sudden. He was here one moment, and gone the next. Didn't leave a note or anything. I've always wondered what happened to him, but the truth is, I don't even remember his name. Unfortunately, it seems he didn't leave many tools behind, so this work is gonna be tougher than I'd hoped. I'm getting too old for this kind of thing. Maybe that's what Nurse Winter wants: maybe
she wants to work me until I drop. I wouldn't put it past her.
Gathering together a paltry little collection of items, I throw them in a rusty old wheelbarrow and head out to the garden. When I get there, I can kind of see why Nurse Winter's keen to get it fixed. This is supposed to be a quiet patch of holy ground, a final resting place for the poor souls who died at Lakehurst and whose families couldn't be bothered to hold a funeral. Instead, it's become an overgrown jungle of weeds. Something should've been done about this a long time ago, but it's not my fault that it's been neglected. Dr. Campbell should've hired a new gardener. Honestly, I don't think anyone's paid attention to this place since Julia Lavelli was buried all those years ago.
After I've been working for an hour or so, I realize I'm being watched. At first, it seems like there's no-one about, but finally I see her: standing a few meters away, she's just staring at me. I guess this is the kind of work she likes. Being a holy lady and all, she was probably pretty upset about the state of the garden, so maybe my work out here is pleasing her. This thought makes me feel a little better about the whole thing.
"I'm not scared of you," I say eventually. I don't usually try speaking to her, mainly because I figure it makes me seem crazy. Today, though, I feel a little more confident. "If you want the truth," I continue, "it's quite nice having you around." I look over at her and see her smiling at me. She's the least scary ghost you could ever imagine. "I just feel guilty that you're spending so much of your time following me around. Don't you have anything more important to be doing?"
No reply. There's never any reply. She just watches me.
"Thanks for helping me out back there," I say. "I swear to fucking God, if you hadn't shown up, I'd have bent that bitch over her desk and made her feel my strength." I pause for a moment. "I'm sorry," I say, feeling as if I've let some of my ugliness slip out.
I carry on working. It's nice to have someone to talk to, even if she doesn't talk back. I don't even know if she can hear me, but she can definitely see me. All the anger that was building up in Nurse Winter's office is finally starting to dissipate. Attacking that bitch would have been a mistake. It would have made me feel good for a moment, but it would have ruined everything. For the first time in my life, I actually managed to show some self-control, and that kind of makes me feel good about myself. As I keep on clearing away more and more weeds from the garden, I feel almost like I'm doing God's work. According to the paperwork, there's five bodies buried out here, three of them being children. Maybe I'm doing a little to save my own soul here. When I die, and I get to Heaven's gate, maybe this work will count in my favor while they're deciding whether I get to go inside or whether I get thrown down into the fires of Hell.
"I guess no-one can see you, huh?" I say as I pull weeds away from the edge of the garden. "Why's that? What's so special about me?" I smile at her. "I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm not a great guy. I'm just a man, an ordinary man. Less than that, even. There's nothing special about -"
I pause, realizing that there's something hidden in the weeds. Pulling some more of the foliage away, I find a small headstone. It looks so old and ignored, with a deep crack running through the top of the stone. I kneel down and wipe away all the crap, and finally I can read the inscription:
Sister Alice Copham
1965 to 1995
A faithful servant of God
Now, I'll admit that I'm not the smartest man in the world, but it doesn't take me more than a moment to realize that this Sister Alice Copham woman is more than likely the same nun who's standing right next to me. Back in 1995, I wasn't here at Lakehurst so I have no idea what was going on, but 1965 to 1995 is thirty years and that sounds about right, seeing as the ghost seems to be a fairly young woman. I look up at her, and see that she's staring not at me but at the headstone.
"This you?" I ask.
She doesn't reply, of course. But whereas she's always stared straight at me in the past, now it's the headstone that's got her attention. Overcome by a feeling of profound sorrow, I stare down at the headstone. How can something so important, so holy, have been left forgotten and allowed to be covered by weeds? I guess that's a reminder of how fucking unholy Lakehurst is. The people here, they've got no soul. They don't give a damn about anything holy. Hell, they probably don't even know these headstones are here. They just neglect everything that they don't think can help them become more powerful.
"Your name's Alice, huh?" I ask. "Well -" I stop as I see something else a few feet away. I crawl over and pull away some more weeds, and that's when I find that there's a second headstone:
Sister Marie Alma Clare
1964 to 1995
Returned to God
"I'll be damned," I mutter, before remembering that I'm the presence of a lady of God. I turn to her. "I'm sorry," I say, "I hope..." I pause, seeing that she's now looking over at this headstone. "So which one's you?" I ask. "Are you Alice, or are you Marie?" I pause, giving her a chance to reply, but she doesn't say anything. "Is this what you wanted me to do? You wanted me to help find your grave?" I pause for a moment. It's kind of starting to make sense. This poor, beautiful creature couldn't rest until her grave was uncovered and returned to its holy state. Without me, she'd have been doomed to haunt Lakehurst forever. Now, perhaps, I can find a way to let her enjoy the peace and rest that she's earned.
"Hope there ain't no more," I say, looking over at the rest of the weeds, "wouldn't -" Suddenly I see it: the edge of another headstone. Hauling myself to my feet, I walk over and pull away the weeds:
Sister Laura Mae Symonds
1957 to 1995
In God's good grace, we trust
"Three of you, huh?" I say. Clearing away more weeds, I find a fourth headstone, and then a fifth. I keep working, uncovering headstone after headstone buried in the weeds at the edge of the garden, until finally I've cleared everything away and I'm left standing there, shocked by what I've found. Counting them, I find that there are twenty-six around the entire perimeter: Twenty-six headstones, all of them from nuns who died in 1995. I'm overwhelmed for a moment by the thought of so many good women having died here. What the hell happened at Lakehurst all those years ago? I know the place is unholy and evil, but still, I didn't ever expect to find anything like this. What kind of monsters could allow so many deaths to be neglected? Is this why there's always been a strange atmosphere at Lakehurst?
I turn to the ghost. "Is this what you wanted?" I ask. "You wanted me to find these?" I pause, trying to work out what all of this means. "Now what?" I say. "Why are you here? What do you want me to do now?"
She struggles to breathe, desperately trying to get her head back up above the surface of the bathwater. No fucking chance. I can hold her down all night if necessary. Fucking whore needed a good bath. She stinks.
Chapter Four
Two months ago.
"We bless these souls," says Nurse Winter, "and we commend them to the mercy of God, that he might recognize the restoration of this space." She pauses for a moment, before closing the book from which she's been reading.
It's a chilly afternoon, and a handful of workers from the hospital have gathered to witness the garden being blessed. It's been a month since I discovered the 26 headstones, and since then I've been working hard to clean up the garden and make sure that it's once again presentable. To her credit, Nurse Winter was immediately very understanding of the need to devote some time and resources to this project. She's even placed an advertisement in several newspapers, looking for a new gardener, and she gave me leave to spend as much time as necessary restoring the garden to a fit state. It's been hard work, but the place looks beautiful now. It's a fitting place for the dead to rest.
"Amen," Nurse Winter adds. There's something strange about having such an unholy, ungodly woman lead the prayers that are supposed to reconsecrate this ground. Satan himself would have been a better choice, but the important thing is that the words have been spoken and the little cemetery is now fit for purpose
once again.
"Morris?" Nurse Winter says, calling me over to her as the others head back inside. "I just wanted to thank you again for the work you've done here. It's remarkable to see how dedicated you've been to this endeavor. We let this place become overgrown and forgotten, and that was a terrible mistake."
"Thank you," I say. I have to be honest and admit that since she took over Lakehurst formally, there's been a change in Nurse Winter's demeanor. She's started treating me better, as if she finally understands that the work I do here has some value. "Did you find out anything about what happened here back in 1995?" I ask as we walk slowly toward the main building. My own research hasn't turned up anything interesting, which isn't surprising given that Nurse Winter refuses to allow anyone else to gain access to the official records of the hospital.
"Not much," she replies. "As you know, I didn't arrive until a few years later. Dr. Campbell certainly didn't ever mention any kind of incident, and no-one else here recalls anything unusual having happened. Nevertheless, it appears that twenty-six ladies of the cloth perished here at Lakehurst, and that's certainly something that most people would remember. It's a mystery, that's for sure."
"You called the police yet?" I ask.
"No," she says. "I don't think that's going to be necessary."
"Twenty-six people," I say, turning to her. I know I should hide my anger, but right now I'm finding it hard to believe that she wants to just sweep this under the rug and pretend it didn't happen. "That's a lot of souls."