Echoes of the Dead (8 page)

Behind her, Daniel Pinto, dark and handsome and foreign, dripped a certain mystique which Ben hoped would coax the disappointed middle-aged housewife to tune in. He had also identified himself as quite religious when asked, and the potential friction between the psychically inclined Miss Connolly and Daniel’s more traditional, Roman Catholic background might stir a little drama. 

Drama made good television. 

Erin and Daniel weren’t the focus, though. They weren’t the real cast, the central characters Ben knew would make their stay in the house something special—something he could edit and mix into a masterpiece: A ghost story with no ghosts but plenty of tension and dread and genuine human emotion, raw material with which to make a name. 

Ghosts were still selling well, after all, as was reality programming.

No the “real” cast consisted of his old friends…

Kelsey and Sarah had both revealed what he’d wanted to see when he mentioned the house. They still loathed the place, still held some dark memories. Jared’s death—in all honesty, who could believe he was still alive—had been tragic, but it was history. The present was the thing. In the present, Kelsey and Sarah remembered Jared. Of course, they remembered the dead man, too, Mr. John Doe suicide.

He didn’t believe there were ghosts in the house, but bad memories and a little stress would stir the emotions just enough—maybe enough to see even a cool nut like Johnny crack a bit. Ben had always wanted to see Johnny crack. His cameras would be there to catch it all. Maybe, just maybe, they’d catch everything.

And maybe, just maybe, he could put his dreams to rest, put the nightmares to rest…

“Um, Mr. Wormsley? Hey—don’t you think one of us should find baggage claim?”

Ben snapped to the present and turned to Erin. “Sure. We should all go. I should wait on the crew perhaps. Hard to make a pilot without cameras.”

“Well when they show, I’m down this way.” Erin jerked a finger over her shoulder. When she moved, her blonde hair shimmered. “I’d like to grab my stuff before some red-eyed businessman walks off with—”

“We’ll meet you there.”

Erin’s lips wavered on the edge of a pout, but she spun on her heel and beat toward the arrow indicating “baggage”. Daniel followed without a word.

The drama was already afoot. Ben smiled as three men, the first pale and small, another trim, muscular, and black, and the third older with grizzled beard and white tufts of hair clinging to his temples. His crew. The first man, the pale fellow with a soft, round-edged face blinked hard and pressed his closed fists into his eyes.

“I’ll never get used to flying,” he said. “Anything over two or three hours, and I feel like I’ve been hung out to dry.”

“Welcome to Kansas City, Nick.” Ben held out a hand. “Baggage claim straight ahead.”

The muscular man studied Ben. “Our equipment better be in damn good shape.” When he spoke, his voice rumbled low like a radio announcer trapped inside a cavernous amphitheater. “I want to grab our gear before it takes one too many revolutions around the carousel. This place always this dead?”

“It’s not LAX, Wayne,” Ben replied. “I’ve arranged for a van to meet us on the circle drive, just across from the baggage claim. It’s an extended version with plenty of space in the back for your equipment.”

“Good enough for me.”

The older man rubbed his neck. “How long have we got, now?”

“About two hours by car, Mr. Bloom.” Ben felt the need to call the older man mister based on his age and reputation. Howard Bloom, the sound man, had cut his teeth on nature television in the 1970s. Ben was interested in natural observations of a different type and dropped a few extra zeroes of venture capital to lure the master to his little project.

“Out in the boonies, huh?”

“Worried about tornadoes?”

Howard Bloom scowled. “Don’t assume I’m that senile, Wormsley. I just want to know what we have to work with. Is the electrical updated?”

“I’ve had a generator installed. If we find ourselves without power, the generator will kick in within a minute. The entire backup system is in place and tested. We’ve been waiting on our cast and crew.” Ben grinned. “You, Mr. Bloom, are an important piece of this entertainment puzzle.”

Howard walked in step with Ben toward the baggage claim, following the thick, swaggering form of Wayne Johnson and stooped, boney shoulders of Nick Carney. “So, this is some kind of ghost hunting show you’re putting on?”

“Not exactly,” Ben said.

“Big spooky house. Six residents… So what’s your angle, then? Can’t be a rehash of
Big Brother
and the locale isn’t exotic enough for a
Survivor
spin-off. Got to be a
Ghost Hunters
knock off, right?”

“Let’s just say, Mr. Bloom, I’m doing a little experiment with fear.”

“Fear. Gotcha.” Howard Bloom stopped and scratched his stubble. Ten feet away, a young woman in a bright blue dress squealed and wrapped her arms around a tall, dark-haired man. “You know, good ol’ human beings aren’t a whole lot different than a pack of wild animals, given the chance.”

Ben’s smile widened. “That’s what I’m hoping for.”

Kelsey drove with a stack of printed and stapled Mapquest directions in her lap. She didn’t own a GPS and felt rather foolish about needing so much help in finding the house. After all, it was the location of a cornerstone moment in her life. A horrible moment, but life-changing. Driving through the rural countryside, she was a rat in a different kind of maze, not driven by fear but toward it. Her lab animals would never go toward the object of terror like she was. She forced a smile to chase away the frost of doubt.

The car, her hand-me-down Honda Accord, ancient and rusting, crested the final hill.  The house rose from a cluster of trees like a cancerous lump: rust-red and awkward and out of place. She hadn’t remembered the trees before. They’d found the house in a snowstorm and perhaps the white world bleached those grey, slumbering limbs into something less evident. Perhaps she’d been blinded by the need for shelter.  During the spring or summer, the trees would shield the house from the world, burying it in shadow. But with the limbs naked, it peered out from its prison. It was big—at three stories a monster of a building in the middle of nowhere. Kelsey steered her car onto the shoulder.  The tires scratched against gravel. She scanned the roadside for the turn off, found it, and pointed the wheels toward the house.

Twelve thousand dollars would keep her research going.

Twelve thousand dollars would keep her father’s dream alive—he’d wanted his little girl to be something, hadn’t he?

She wasn’t a rat. All the rats could expect was a tiny bowl of food pellets for their effort.

Kelsey understood fear as an academic concept. She’d written her research proposal on the topic. She knew fear was one of the oldest human emotions and one people shared with most of their animal brothers and sisters—the mammals at least. She understood the physiological effects of fear. Feeling those effects—feeling her heart quicken and her breath catch in her throat, feeling the uncomfortable, cold, clammy sensation in her stomach and the sweat form on the palms of her hands—was different.

She steered toward the house’s front porch. Three stories of ancient brick loomed like a monster of a maze about to swallow a tiny rat named Kelsey. 

~

Ben stepped from the porch, hands outstretched and wearing his best Hollywood smile. “Kelsey!  I can’t tell you how pleased I am that you’ve decided to join our little show. After our conversation last fall, I thought I’d lost you.”

Kelsey stood behind the driver’s door, using it like a shield. She could still turn around, drive away, and put the house behind her. She closed her eyes and saw her father’s face, but it was her mother’s words which came to her: he believed in you, Kelsey Ann.  A lump swelled in her throat as she opened her eyes. She needed the money. She needed to do something of which her father would be proud. The house would not defeat her. She moved away from the car and slammed the door shut.

“Are the others here?” she asked.

“Erin and Daniel—the students I mentioned—and the crew.  I’m still waiting on Sarah and Johnny.  Maybe they’re coming together.”

Kelsey pressed her hands against her thighs to dry the sweat. Sarah wouldn’t be coming with Johnny. She couldn’t. “I’ve got my luggage. Just the one suitcase. Should I—”

“Let me help you.”

Kelsey unlocked the trunk, and Ben hauled out the green canvas suitcase. His eyes shifted from the case to Kelsey. “A little light.”

“Only a week, right?”

“Sure. Only a week.”

He wore the grin again, always the same, less-than-reassuring smile. Ben had always given Kelsey a creepy, not-quite-centered vibe, but now the smile held an extra edge. Maybe it was the house. Only a week.  She reached for the handle of her suitcase and took it from him.

“I can handle this.”

Ben lifted his hands. “No problem. Just trying to help. I didn’t want to insult or anything, it’s just that Erin brought five bags with her. Guess she wants to look good for the camera.”

Kelsey’s neck burned. Good for the camera? Ben was the same, slick prick underneath his money and southern California tan. She strode toward the front door. Her fingers squeezed the handle of her old suitcase until the knuckles bled white. She’d need to keep her head. One week. Only seven days.

“What about your car?”

Kelsey stopped and let the bag drop to the ground with a thud. “My car?  What about it?”

Ben shrugged. “Can’t leave it here, can you?”

“I don’t understand.  Why can’t I leave it there?”

“We need some shots of the house. It’s—well, it’s in the best angle, isn’t it?”

Kelsey shoved a hand in her jacket pocket and tossed the keys toward Ben. If she’d been a better shot, she would have knocked him in the head. “Move it wherever you like,” she muttered, turning back to the house. Before she made the final porch step, her Accord sputtered to life, and tires ground against the gravel drive.

She hesitated.

Five years ago, she didn’t hesitate on those steps. She hurried into the house just like the others, driven by cold and fear. Fear. They’d just survived a nasty spin on the snow-packed road and needed a place to be warm, maybe a phone. Five years ago, as they stood on the porch, none of them knew about the dead man. None of them knew it might be the last time Jared stood with them. She’d known him since their sophomore year in Moore Hall when they’d mentored incoming freshmen.

Five years later, she looked down at the steps and took a deep breath.

Her feet moved on the stone steps in tiny nibbles. Kelsey’s eyes roved either side of the railing. The paint—just as it had been five years ago—was perfect, smooth and pristine and uniform as though it had been painted for the first time a week prior.  She dropped the suitcase on the porch, surprising herself with the heavy
thunk
as it struck the slab flooring.

“Welcome home.”

Kelsey shuddered and spun around.

Ben grinned from the bottom step. “Just like you remembered it, isn’t it?”

He startled her. She hadn’t expected him after hearing her car drive away, but nodded. “Too much so. Where do I—”

“You’ll be on the second floor. Second bedroom if you turn left at the top of the stairs. I believe the walls are yellow. You’ll find two twin beds.”

“Second floor….” The bathroom had been on the second floor, the bathroom in which they’d found the anonymous body. The recent flush of frustration with Ben became an icy chill, a cold, prickling sensation which crawled with slow spider feet across Kelsey’s back.  There was still time to turn around, time to say no and run for her car. She held her breath.

Ben’s smile faded. He held his left hand up, keys dangling between his fingers as though he’d read her mind. “Your keys, Kelsey.  If you don’t want to stay—I know the second floor holds some bad memories.”

Her gaze shifted from the keys to the door. Her mind sifted through memories of Jared, her father, the stoic mask of her mother’s face at the funeral… Her father had been so proud. “I’m staying,” she said.

“Good.”

~

Kelsey found the yellow bedroom without a glance to the right. The bathroom door waited in the other direction, less than twenty feet from her bedroom, but she wasn’t ready to face that demon. She’d managed to climb the stairs without running into anyone else, too.  Silence lay over the house’s interior as it had five years ago.  So much silence she struggled to believe five other people were there—somewhere. She dropped her suitcase on one of the two twin beds and shut the door so as not to make a sound.

Best not let them know she was there.

The walls were hung with wallpaper—not a plain yellow, either. Upon closer inspection, she noted a subtle pattern of darker vertical lines, but the lines were made of a tiny, repeated shape. The shape reminded Kelsey of corn cobs. She was in the corn-cob room. Absurd. Her fingers touched the wall and found a slight texture, small bumps where the shapes rose from floor to ceiling. The wallpaper was pristine—it could have been laid in the last year, and Kelsey wondered if perhaps it had been for the show. It was familiar somehow, even though they’d not entered the yellow room five years ago…