A Night at the Asylum (17 page)

I expected gasps of surprise, shouts of
outrage, or at least a swear or two of disbelief. Instead the boys
looked at each other. “Can I see it?” Cole asked of the jewelry,
and I handed it over, exhaling loudly when his nod confirmed the
reality. “It has her initials engraved on the back here. See?” He
held his flashlight up so Raymond and I could get a look. “She got
it for her birthday.”

I already knew that. I had seen it
myself.

“Sara…why didn’t you take this to the cops or
at least my parents?”

“I just found it last night in Tommy’s
things. I didn’t know about it before. He didn’t tell anyone about
it before he died.”

Cole frowned.

We both stared at Raymond, who had started
fidgeting guiltily next to us. “Jon thinks the same thing,” he
spoke finally, shaking his head. “I never told anyone
because…because it seemed…too far-fetched. He had no proof. Not a
single thing. He was just going off of some things he says Tommy
told him about Jenny. About…making contact…with her…oh, Jesus, this
is just nuts.” He rubbed the back of his neck with one of his large
palms, clearly uncomfortable with what he was saying. “I’m sorry I
didn’t mention it. I just…you know, he went a little weird after
Jenny disappeared.” He shrugged. “He eventually stopped talking
about it, so I just thought…”

So Jon had changed his mind after Tommy died.
Become a believer. Or at least a considerer.

“There’s something else,” I breathed. If I
was going to tell the story, I needed to tell the
whole
story. “Emmett Sutter says he saw Tommy wearing his helmet that
night. And he says he found it in Ead’s possession after the
accident.”

“Hold on,” Cole said. “What are you saying,
Sara? What does all this mean?”

I stared at him for a moment, formulating my
answer, knowing it was going to hurt him further. “Tommy
was
using the board…to contact Jenny. She told him to find the necklace
in Ead’s car. It’s proof that Jenny was there…” I cut off, and Cole
looked down at the tiny gold chain in his hand.

“Jenny,” he whispered.

I opened Tommy’s notebook. “It’s all right
here.” I pointed. Raymond moved closer to me, so he could see over
my shoulder. Cole stood listening, looking lost. “When Ead found
out what Tommy knew about Jenny’s necklace, he killed him too.” I
suppressed a sob with the back of my hand.

“Holy shit,” Cole whispered. He ran a hand
back through his hair. “This is too much.”

“His helmet…it went missing after he died,” I
explained. “And Emmett told me he saw it. That he saw where his
brother hid it.”

There was a slick, wet breathing sound, and
“Joey” began to speak through Jamie again. “Thomas wore the helmet
because he knew he was in danger. He knew his life would be cut
short.”

“How did he know?” I asked, glaring.

“Because I communicated it to him,” Joey
answered. “But this fate could not be avoided.”

“Are you telling me someone murdered him and
it was supposed to happen?” I shouted, my anger returning full
force. This thing was really getting on my nerves. I refused to
refer to it as a spirit guide. Spirit guides were supposed to be
all-seeing and inspiring, weren’t they? Joey was just a dick.

“It was Thomas’ prewritten destiny that his
presence in your world would be for this predetermined amount of
time. This time is chosen before you are born. It is written in
your cells, recorded in your Akashic Record. You have chosen this.
You also choose to forget, so that you may live your life in this
world without hindrance. He chose. You chose. Every human being
does so. It is the purpose of the human experience.”

“So you’re saying everyone decides before
they’re born…when and how they’ll die?” Cole asked. “That my sister
chose that? Are you serious, you worthless asshole?”

I grasped his arm to stop him. I might have
been curious about this crap any other time, but for now it was
useless trivia. My hatred brewed uncontrollably, spilling over. It
came from a selfish place. I wanted to know Tommy was with me, that
nothing that had happened could be explained away anymore. I wanted
validation. “What the hell are you, anyway? Pardon me if I don’t
fondly accept the middle man BS.” I read from the notebook, jabbing
the paper with my finger. “‘Spirits may manipulate items in the
physical world, opening doors, turning on lights, or pulling aside
curtains…and have been seen by several people at the same time.’ If
he can do that, why does he need you?” I tossed the notebook on the
table angrily. “If you’re the bridge between this world and that
one then where is my brother?”

My voice bounced off the dark walls, and Cole
and Raymond both tried to shush me. I pushed their hands away. My
only answer was the moronic laughter bubbling from Jamie’s lips. It
was infuriating.

“Do you hear me, you son of a bitch? If he
was here, he would have come to me! Do you hear me?!” I had never
been so angry in my life. Raymond and Cole leapt at me to keep me
from attacking Jamie, but I shoved the spirit board and the
notebook off the table, sent it crashing into the window behind me.
The laughter grew louder. I plopped down in the chair like a child
throwing a tantrum and covered my ears with my hands.

The next thing I knew Raymond and Cole were
shaking me. I had clamped my eyes shut and now I opened them.
“Sara,” Raymond said gently. “Are you alright?”

“I’m…I’m fine.” I sat up, letting my arms
fall by my sides.

“We thought it happened to you, too,” Cole
said, exhaling.

“That’s impossible. She’s a terrible
conductor,” came Jamie’s high-pitched girly voice from across the
table.

“Jamie!” I jumped to my feet. “Is that you?”
I never thought I’d be so happy to hear that annoying
giddiness.

Cole nodded. “She’s back. And I don’t know
about you guys but…I’d like to get the hell out of here.”

“Where’s Joey? He didn’t answer my question!”
I demanded.

“Sorry about him,” Jamie replied dryly. “He’s
a real bastard.”

“So we gathered,” Cole answered. He looked
hyper-calm, zoned-out, like he’d just had a glimpse inside the
black briefcase. “What the hell is he?”

Jamie shrugged. “Some of us get nice, helpful
spirit guides. Some of us get Joey.”

“So this has happened to you before?” Cole
asked.

“Yeah,” Jamie admitted slowly. “Since I was a
little kid.” She looked at him shyly, uncharacteristically
self-conscious for a moment. “Sometimes spirits don’t know how to
get through to us. So they ask the guides.”

He grasped her hand, leaning down on one knee
to look into her face. “You…are…amazing,” he said sweetly, and she
giggled.

My mind was whirring. Of course Jamie and
Tommy would have the same freak of super-nature guiding them. It
should have been obvious. “We have to find the helmet,” I
murmured.

“What?” Raymond asked.

“We have to find the helmet,” I repeated.
“The asylum is going to be demolished,” I reminded him.

Jamie tried to stand up. “Ah, look out,” she
called, and Raymond and Cole were at her side at once, holding her
up. “All this possession crap has taken a lot out of me,” she said
with an uncertain giggle. “Can you boys walk me out to my car?”

“Yeah, come on, Sara. Let’s get her outside.
We’ll come right back in.” Raymond waited for my answer.
“Sara?”

I was lost in my own thoughts, all the anger
gone, leaving behind a mental exhaustion so thick I could barely
think through it.

“Sara!”

I couldn’t leave. There was no time. I had
that feeling again, that feeling that told me the final dominoes
were falling. I had to oblige. It was beyond my control.

“I’m staying here,” I said. Raymond began to
protest, but I held up my hand. “Please. Don’t try to convince me
otherwise. Okay? Take Jamie to your car. She’ll be safe there. Call
Bonita’s father…” I wished I could tell him to check on Emmett. To
do whatever he could to get him help. But I’d promised.

“I’m not leaving you in here alone.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Jamie was leaning on Cole now, her face pale.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea either,” she murmured quietly, but
without much conviction.

“I don’t care what you guys think. Just go.
I’ll be okay.”

“I’ll get Doug,” Jamie said. “He’ll know what
to do.” I assumed she was talking about Emmett. I did not ask her
what she knew, because I feared the answer.

“I’ll come back and help you,” Raymond
assured me. “You have to at least agree to that.”

“Alright.” I had no intention of waiting till
he returned. But my voice stayed even.

“Do not leave this room until I get back,”
Raymond ordered.

“I won’t. I swear.”

We both knew I was lying. “Keep your phone
on,” he said, handing me his flashlight.

“Yes, sir.”

After they’d left, I sat at the table in the
dark. I could not comprehend all the incredible things that had
happened tonight. I didn’t want to. My heart was broken. I was
exhausted, hungry, my belief system had been turned on its ear and
I just wanted to sleep. I sat back in the chair, not even scared of
the black room, the restless spirits that no doubt lingered here.
Everything was different now.

Tommy’s gray digital voice recorder still sat
on the table, looking tiny and benign. I picked it up and pressed
the power button. The little display came to life. Now the battery
was full again. I pressed the back button and then PLAY. There was
a little shuffling noise and then I heard my own voice. “I wish I
knew…where you are…and what you want from me…” the shuffling
continued. The recorder scraping against the front of my shirt,
probably. And then I heard something else. I sat up with a
start.

I rewound the entry and played it again.
Static noises, my words, then a voice…I had to rewind a couple more
times to be sure, but it was there. A soft whisper, drawn out long
and garbled with what sounded like electrical interference, but the
statement was clear as day…“I’m here…I’ve been here.
Just…listttttteeeeen.”

Without a doubt I knew it was Tommy.

I shut the recorder off, clutching it mutely
in my hands. With new resolve, I picked up the board and the
notebook and tucked all three back into my messenger bag. Then I
threw the bag over my shoulder and started walking. Yes. I would do
what Tommy asked. It was the only way I would find what I was
looking for.

I would listen.

****

The storm was just getting started.

News reporters, construction workers,
protesters scattered back to their cars to seek shelter. I stared
out the second story bathroom window and was surprised by the dark
hue of the sky. After the rain, the destruction of this beautifully
grotesque building could start on schedule.

Soon the grass and parking lot would be
cleared and all of the asylum’s secrets would be unearthed, its
garish decay laid to waste.

Laid to rest.

****

I had no idea where to even begin.

I started to notice as I walked the shadowy
corridors slowly, hoping for some divine intervention, that the
asylum was almost empty. There were still a few drunken stragglers
here and there, a few protesters who had broken away from the
chain. I even heard a police radio or two, and ducked into the
corners until they passed. I walked in whatever direction I felt
compelled. Was anyone pulling me this way? I didn't know. Was I
supposed to be feeling something? I couldn't say I was. I sighed
heavily in frustration. I had thought that with pure belief would
come the ability to hear, to see. The other world was supposed to
open itself up to me, wasn't it?

Frustrated, I kicked a pile of trash across
the room. I sat down on the cold, dirty floor, feeling dampness
seep into the seat of my jeans, my spine sagging in on itself. I
was truly the most exhausted I had ever been. Most of all, I was
running out of time. I thought about crying, seriously considered
it. I thought about taking the spirit board out, but I didn’t want
to. I couldn’t take a step back. I had
heard his voice
.
“Please, Tommy, help me,” I whispered, no longer feeling silly
about talking aloud to someone invisible. “Just please…tell me
where to go.”

Suddenly my phone chirped as if the battery
was low. “Impossible,” I murmured. “I just changed this.” As I put
the phone to my ear the text chime blared. It scared me so badly I
almost dropped the phone. The caller ID said “58008”. I clicked on
the message.

One word.

Cold.

“What?” I asked the empty lobby around me,
confused. There was no answer.

I stood and brushed my pants off, looking
around. “Tommy? Is that you?”

Somewhere far away, water was dripping,
probably from a hole in the ceiling. There was a crash from down
the stairs; most likely some stragglers making their way out. The
sound of wings flapping overhead led my eyes to a crazy-looking
owl, perched on a high window pane. But in the form of spoken
words, there was only silence.

I started to walk again. “Should I take out
the recorder? Can you hear me?” I adjusted my bag on my back and
stepped around a crumbling rocking chair. “I don’t know what to
do.”

My phone’s text chime played again. The
reception bar said I didn’t even have a signal here. Every time a
text came the battery faltered, but immediately went back to full.
I opened the phone and read the text. Another one-word riddle.

Warm.

“Okay,” I breathed. “I think I understand…but
Tommy…please…is it you? You have to let me know somehow.
Please.”

The phone chimed again. This time there was
another number, and it was in the body of the message:

07734

I had been slowly making my way toward the
Women's Ward across the lobby. I passed under the decomposing sign
that indicated where I was and put one hand against the wall to
steady myself. My legs were feeling weak. The chipping paint licked
at the skin of my fingertips as I pushed my way further down the
hall. Why did these numbers look familiar? The phone slipped from
my precarious grip and I caught it mid-air, upside down, and that’s
when it hit me.