Echoes of the Dead (9 page)

“Kels?”

Kelsey shuddered and spun around, not expecting anyone. She hadn’t even heard the door open, but Sarah Mansfield stood just inside the room, holding a duffle bag and suitcase in either hand. “Hey.” Kelsey glanced at the twin beds. “Sarah… I guess were roommates.”

“That’s what Ben said.  Do you mind?” Sarah gestured toward the two beds.

“Take either one.  I just laid my stuff down on the first one… I didn’t know I was going to be rooming with anyone.”

Sarah carried her luggage to the second bed. “Is it a problem?”

“Of course not.” Kelsey stepped away from the wall, glancing at her fingertips as she did so.

“Good. I wasn’t sure I wanted to be sleeping in this crazy house by myself, anyway.” Sarah unzipped her suitcase and nodded toward the window. “Have you checked out the view?”

“Oh. No… I was just...” Kelsey rubbed the fingers which had touched the wallpaper against her leg. “Admiring the décor.”

“Yellow. Yech. It’s a rather mustardy shade, don’t you think?”

“I suppose. I hadn’t thought about it much. It’s wallpaper, pretty nice, too. I can’t imagine it’s the original. They must have hung it for the show.”

“They?” Sarah looked up from laying out her folded clothing on the bed.

“Ben’s crew. I figure they’ve done some cleaning and straightening around here, too.”

“I dunno. I thought he just brought a couple of cameramen. I can’t imagine they’d do wallpaper.” Sarah lifted a stack of clothing. “I’ll take the bottom two, okay?”

“Bottom two?”

“Drawers in the dresser. You can have the top. I don’t mind.”

Kelsey moved to the beautiful, dark oak dresser. She ran her hand across the top. “Not a speck of dust. In fact, the whole place looks absolutely spotless. I haven’t seen a hint of dust”

“Funny. They must have busted their asses getting this place in ship shape, huh?”

“Yeah. I suppose.”

Sarah shoved an armful of clothing into the bottom drawer and pushed it closed. “Are you all right, Kels?”

Kelsey sat on her bed. Was she all right? Was anything all right? The cold sliver of discomfort she’d felt on the drive had grown into a thorny mass which hooked into her gut. She closed her eyes. There wasn’t anything wrong with this house except for a few bad memories. Bad memories were just that—bits of information stored in her brain and fired from synapse to synapse. She was in control, wasn’t she?

“I’m fine,” she said. “Just tired, I guess. Long drive.”

“I hear you. Ben said to hustle and get to dinner in a half hour. He wants us to eat ‘family style’ at the big table downstairs, at least for dinner.”

“A half hour?”

“I’m heading down now—going to freshen up a bit in the bathroom on the first floor. Are you coming?”

Kelsey ran her hand over the bed. “I’m a little sleepy. I might lie down for a few.”

“Suit yourself. Sweet dreams.”

~

Kelsey woke with a start and blinked several times before she realized a figure stood in the bedroom doorway. Her neck pricked with tiny hot pinpoints. She scrambled from the bed.

“No rush,” Ben said.

“You told Sarah to hustle. I don’t want to miss dinner.” Kelsey pushed her hair from her face. “How long was I asleep?”

“Long enough.”

She glanced at the travel clock next to her bed. She must have fallen asleep immediately because Sarah had only left a handful of minutes before.
Wormsley
fit Ben well. He made her squirm like one with his Hollywood grin. He stepped into the room. Kelsey didn’t move.

“I just wanted to talk a little before the cameras go live. Before everyone is here and it’s too crowded to have a… Private moment.”

Ben stepped closer. Kelsey’s skin burned. She wanted to run, to push him away and dash for the door. Ben had always been a bit smarmy, but never so forward.

“So?”

“I should be saying this, but you have always been my favorite, Kels. My favorite from the old college group. I know you and Sarah both had a thing for John. You always have. He’s the big, strapping stud. The athlete. Now a war hero.”

Ben was close enough she could reach out and touch him. She hid her hands behind her back.

“Johnny and Sarah have a lot of history,” Kelsey said. “I—”

“I know, Kels.”

Ben’s hand touched her arm. Her skin froze.

“Ben…”

The hand slid up her arm and leapt to her cheek. She pulled away.

“Sorry,” he said, his tone shifting. He stepped back. “I’ll be downstairs with the others. Dinner is served and I thought we’d all eat together. The cameras will be on for the first time, so stay beautiful.”

Kelsey didn’t move until he’d left the room.

~

The dining room was almost as Kelsey remembered. The big, wooden table was there, but a few chairs had been added, each matching those already in place. Everything in the house felt right and proper, remaining where it had five years ago but much sharper than Kelsey’s memories. Two men with shoulder mounted cameras stood in adjacent corners with a third, an older man, adjusting a microphone on a boom between them. Ben, seated at the table’s head, stood as she entered. She didn’t meet his eyes.

“Kelsey… I was just talking with Sarah… How are the roommates hitting it off?”

“Fine,” Kelsey said. “You’ve found a matching set. If I remember, there were four before.”

Sarah gestured to the chairs. “So where’s the rest of our little club.”

“Erin and Daniel should be here any moment. John hasn’t arrived, but I expected no less from him. He knows how to make an entrance, doesn’t he? Good for him and good for the camera.”

Kelsey crossed her arms. Seeing the cameras had amplified the tension she’d already felt long before entering the house. They made it real, this crazy thing Ben and circumstances outside her control had convinced her to do. Those cameras would catch everything, each moment. They would find a way to peel back her façade and find the frightened little girl lost in a cave. 

“Take your pick, Kelsey.” Ben gestured to the table. “We don’t have assigned seating.”

Sarah was already sitting at the end closest the cameras. Kelsey stopped at the chair farthest from Ben. She kept her gaze on the table, away from the cameras.

“So what’s to eat in this place?  Are we going to be serving ourselves, or do you have craft services whipping something up in a hidden trailer out in the woods?” Sarah asked.

“Nothing of the sort. I’ve arranged to have our meals brought in from town. A mom and pop café called the Harvest House down in Muskotah was more than willing to have a solid week of consistent business.  Three squares a day, right here in the dining room, all together like one happy family.” He looked up and away from the table. “Oh, here’s Erin and Daniel now.”

Kelsey watched as a tall, athletic blonde—a striking young woman with honey brown skin—rounded the table’s far edge and stood behind a chair next to Sarah. The young man, shorter than Ben with a dark complexion and lost look in his deep brown eyes, followed her but paused before sitting. He looked from the blonde to Sarah and Kelsey and chose a seat next to the blonde. 

“Sarah, Kelsey, this is Erin Connolly and Daniel Pinto.”

Nods were exchanged.

“Well. That leaves our friend John. I assume he’ll be fashionably late.” Ben pulled out his chair at the table’s head and sat.

“Didn’t he call?” Sarah asked.

Ben touched the side of his nose with an index finger. “Now how would he be able to do that? Or have you forgotten?”

“What do you mean?” Kelsey asked.

The blonde, Erin, spoke. “What he means is no service. No cell phones. No land line. Nothing. I’m Erin Connolly, by the way.  Junior at UCLA and willing guinea pig.”

“Sarah Mansfield. Nice to meet you, Erin.” Sarah smirked. “You’re a long way from the beach.”

An icy glaze slicked over Erin’s eyes.

“Kelsey Sullivan,” Kelsey blurted as an attempt to diffuse the tension she felt. Sarah and Erin had already thrown down the first cards in a game of alpha female, and she wanted none of it. “I’m studying psychology at Kansas State, graduate school—what is it you do at UCLA?”

Sarah leaned back in her chair. The ghost of a smile played at her lips.

Erin turned to Kelsey, and the ice-glaze melted. “Small world. I’m studying psych, too. I’ve changed majors once… So far. Makes me a bit of an oddity, I suspect.”

“You two can swap notes,” Sarah said.

The slight curl of Sarah’s lips had grown into a sneer, one which caused Kelsey to feel a twinge of discomfort. Her gaze dropped to the table.

“What about you—Daniel isn’t it?”  Sarah tilted her head forward.

“Yes.” Daniel spoke with a heavy accent. “Daniel Pinto. I come from São Paulo, in Brazil. I’m here working on my graduate degree in computer engineering.  Also at UCLA.”

“You and Kelsey could swap notes, too. She’s attempting to finish her PhD, aren’t you Kels?”

Sarah was the odd one out, and she was feeling it, taking a defensive stance and snarking at each person at the table. Kelsey glanced at the others for their reactions. When her eyes fell on Ben, she knew this was the type of drama he’d been hoping for. The cameras rolled, and Sarah played right into Ben’s hands. They hadn’t even been in the house for three hours, and tension sprouted like weeds—tension which had yet to be tainted with their surroundings.

“So, Kelsey, what are you working on, if you don’t mind?” Erin asked.  She’d turned away from Sarah, physically shutting her off from communication.

“Me? I’m working on my dissertation. Fear and anxiety.  I’m trying to study how fear and anxiety affect performance on complex mental tasks.”

“She runs rats through mazes,” Sarah said.

Erin didn’t acknowledge Sarah, but continued. “Sounds tricky. How do you get around the ethical concerns?”

“Non-human subjects. Like Sarah said, I run rats through mazes. Only I give them something to think about first. Electric shocks cued by lights or sounds. It’s pretty simple, really.”

“I’d like to hear more,” Erin said. “Maybe we can—”

A loud buzz cut into the room, and for a moment, Kelsey felt as though she’d been stung with a shock from her own experiment.

“That would be our dinner at the kitchen door. You’ll excuse me.” Ben rose. “Daniel? Would you mind assisting me? I think the ladies have so much to talk about.”

Daniel stood, glanced at the others, and followed Ben from the room.

“Like I was saying, maybe we can sit down later and talk about your research. I’m sure you’ve made some fascinating findings.” Erin grinned.

Kelsey understood.  Erin had read Sarah and started to alienate her. Drama—just what the director ordered. She chanced a glance at Sarah who wore a rather placid, almost bored expression. Sarah enjoyed playing games; she always had. Kelsey offered Erin a slight smile. “I’d love to.”

A few moments passed, thick and awkward with silence. Kelsey couldn’t help feeling the first battle in a long war was over, but in the sleepy, post-conflict haze she found she had nothing to say, nothing she wanted to say.

She wouldn’t need to say anything else. As the three women sat at the big oak table, the front door banged open. Erin hopped up with a start. Kelsey craned her neck toward the entryway between dining room and parlor. Her heart throbbed madly against her ribs, worked into a frenzy by the sudden noise.

Johnny appeared in the entry, disheveled and weary-looking. He ran his fingers over his close-cropped hair, grooming when he spotted the cameras. “Have I missed dinner?”

“No,” Sarah said. “Just a few appetizers.”

“Good. I’m starving. Two flat tires on that fucking county road out there.” He shook his head. “It’s almost like my car didn’t want to be here.”

After dinner, the group moved into the parlor. Kelsey slipped into an overstuffed chair facing the couch, stairs, and front door. Johnny meandered across the room and leaned against wall.  He’d barely spoken after his entrance, but darkness brewed under his stony exterior. Sarah plopped into the high-backed chair across from Kelsey. Their eyes locked for a moment, long enough to send anxious pinpricks across Kelsey’s back. She shifted her gaze to the couch where Daniel and Erin sat together.  Ben paced through the room, holding a glass of amber liquid. Alcohol, of course, although Kelsey hadn’t seen any at dinner.

The cameras hawked them from two corners, their lenses pressing a cold eye against Kelsey’s skin. She looked away, her gaze lingering on a pair of old style oil lanterns on the wall.

“I think I could get used to delivered, home cooked meals,” Ben said.

“Meatloaf?” Sarah narrowed her eyes. “I’m not sure what was in that stuff.”

 “Homemade, though,” Ben said. “And those mashed potatoes weren’t from a box. Imagine how many poor Mrs. Deeken must have peeled for us.”