The Forgotten Child

by Melissa Erin Jackson

  A bulb popped and Pamela shrieked. Then another. And another. Shattering in quick succession like a smattering of gunfire.

  Nina finally came to her senses. “Calmly get to the lobby!” she told them but her tone was anything but calm. Pamela took off like a cheetah. Michael tossed his EMF reader on the table, hurrying to Riley who stood paralyzed while the bulbs above continued to pop, glass raining down on the shelf tops.

  That heavy feeling in Riley’s chest was back. That rooted-to-the-ground feeling from her dream. Sleep paralysis, but while waking. Oh god oh god oh god.

  The thing—Orin, if that’s who this was—was pulling in all the energy from the room it could. The heat from the air, the electricity from the bulbs, and the batteries from the meters on the table, the red battery indicators flashing on their screens before they went black.

  Michael had hold of her hand. Was he talking to her? Riley was too lost in the crushing weight on her chest, lost in the darkness as the last of the bulbs exploded. Something behind Michael twitched. Nina? No, it didn’t move like Nina. It was too tall.

  Riley stumbled back, able to move again, and her lower back smacked into the table, reaching behind to steady herself. The moment her hand touched steel, her mind filled with image after image. Like a film reel being played at triple speed. A lifeless hand hung off the side of the table, blood dripping from dark fingers; the glint of light off a shiny cleaver as it was hoisted into the air before a strike; a girl curled up in a corner, back against the wall, her skin a sea of blue, purple, and yellow-green bruises; the slice of scalpel through flesh and the welling of blood.

  Riley pitched forward and threw up.

  Someone’s hands landed on her shoulders and she struggled away from them, swatting in the dark at things she couldn’t see.

  “Riley, it’s me!” Michael. “Take my hand. I know where the stairs are.”

  Riley let him slip his warm fingers between hers, her scalded palm aching at the contact, and then he was dragging her to the steps. He swung her around in front of him and put his hands on her waist.

  “Go! I’ve got you.”

  She scrambled for the wooden railing and used that to get up the steep stairs. She tripped a couple times, pitching forward, but Michael always managed to catch her. When they reached the narrow hallway, the bulb blown out here, too, Riley bolted, hands out. It was a straight shot to the door. Michael pounded along behind her. When her sore palms hit the wall, she yelped in surprise. Groping wildly for the doorknob, she found it and wrenched the door open.

  A sobbing Pamela, and Nina, trying to console her, stood in the lobby. A few others loitered around—the group scheduled for the main part of the house—worried expressions pulling brows and mouths down. Angela flitted about the group, trying to figure out what had happened.

  All the lights in the lobby burned bright.

  Riley ignored everyone, the churning of her stomach and the acidic burning in her throat telling her she very well might throw up again. She sprinted outside.

  “No,” she heard Michael say behind her. “I’ve got her; give her space.”

  Riley didn’t stop until she was halfway down the path that led off this horrible property. Hinged forward, hands on her knees, she willed the spring night air to cool her flushed skin. Her stomach convulsed, but she swallowed down the burn of acid.

  She stood to full height when the ache of her hands against the rough material of her jeans was too much to bear.

  Michael watched her from several feet away—giving her space, as he’d told the others to do, but letting her know he was still nearby. She knew if she adamantly demanded he go back inside and leave her alone, he would.

  Wiping a hand under her nose and across her mouth, she looked at the house behind him. “I can’t go back in there.”

  “Then don’t.”

  Her gaze dropped to his face. “And what, sleep outside?”

  “There are half a dozen cars in that lot. You want to leave? You tell me where to find your stuff and I’ll drive you out of here myself. Even if it means hotwiring one of those things.”

  Riley sniffed. “You know how to hotwire a car?”

  “I don’t have the foggiest clue.”

  “You and your foggy clues.” Then, rather abruptly, she burst into tears.

  “Aw, shit,” he said, taking a step forward with his hands out, placating. “I was trying to be funny. You know, lessen the drama? Instead of dealing with anything too serious, I crack jokes. I’m starting to see why all my exes left me; I’m terrible at dealing with emotion.”

  Riley let out a choked laugh. “That was very informative. Also, you’re old as hell.”

  “True.”

  She proceeded to lose her shit for the next ten minutes, while Michael waited patiently. Every time she thought she was okay, that she could get through the weekend as long as she stayed out of the cellar and opted out of the rest of the investigation, her breath would come in rapid gasps. If anything she’d experienced tonight had been close to a panic attack, it was this.

  “I can’t go back in.” She heard the finality in her own voice and blew out a shaky breath, hands on her hips, eyes focused on the ground. “Jade is going to be so disappointed.”

  “Riley,” Michael said. “Riley, look at me.”

  She did.

  “I have no idea what the hell happened in there, but Nina got her damn wish: I’m a believer now. But I’m not staying here.”

  Riley managed a slight nod.

  “I’ll go talk to Angela to figure out where Jade is. I’ll send her out here to talk to you and you two can figure it out. If she wants to stay the rest of the weekend, I’m happy to drive you home. But I’m getting the hell out of here either way.”

  “Thank you,” she managed.

  He took off for the front door.

  Her attention suddenly snapped to one of the windows on the top floor, at a spot above the bay windows. Given the layout of the lobby, Riley couldn’t process how someone could be watching her from up there.

  But then she remembered how often spirits were said to inhabit the used-to-be spaces of a building even after it was remodeled. Residual hauntings. The phantom sound of feet traveling up stairwells that no longer existed. The slam of a door that had been painted shut or removed entirely.

  The face of a young boy watching her from a room that was no longer there.

  “I’m sorry, Pete,” she whispered, knowing that even though he was long dead, she was still leaving him behind.

  CHAPTER 10

  Riley paced, somehow more comfortable surrounded by a dark, cold forest than inside a warm house. Every time she closed her eyes, the flash of images from the cellar assaulted her. She felt the massive black figure looming in the dark. She heard the bulbs shatter.

  While Riley was sure Orin was trapped in the cellar, she couldn’t imagine sleeping in that place another night. Could Orin get to her in her sleep like Pete had?

  This was why she avoided places with known paranormal activity. If she avoided them, nothing could come knocking. Nothing could prod at her defenses.

  “Oh my god, Ry.”

  Jade hurried toward her, the rest of the girls on her tail. Riley’s bottom lip quivered at the sight of her best friend, but she kept herself together.

  Pamela, whose skin looked translucent, stood a little ways off from the group, her perfect eye makeup a smudgy, runny mess.

  Craning her head to look between Jade and Brie’s shoulders, Riley made eye contact with Pamela. “Why are you all the way over there? I’m not contagious.”

  Pamela’s eyes welled with tears. “You must hate me.”

  The three girls parted so Riley could make her way to Pamela. She took the other girl’s downturned face in her hands, then tipped it up. Pamela’s gaze only met hers for a second, then flicked back down to the ground.

  “Why would you think I’d hate you?”

  Pamela sniffed. “I just … left you in there. I was so scared. I w
asn’t thinking. What if something happened to you?” She choked back a sob. “I liked it better when this was all just a TV show.”

  “I know the feeling.” Riley pulled Pamela into a hug.

  Once her friend calmed down, Riley slung an arm around her shoulder and turned them to face the others.

  “I’m gonna start talking,” said Riley, blowing out a long breath. “Let me finish before you start asking me stuff.”

  She told them everything. From Mariah, to the Ouija board, to Pete, and finally whatever the hell happened in the cellar.

  After she finally stopped, her mouth parched, she expected to be bombarded by questions. But they just stared at her, slack-jawed.

  Jade stepped forward and slugged Riley in the shoulder.

  Pamela yelped and scurried over to join the others.

  “Ow! Jesus! What the hell?” Riley said, hand on her sure-to-be-bruised arm.

  Jade pulled her into a hug so tight, Riley’s back cracked. Pulling out of the embrace, hands on Riley’s shoulders, Jade shook her, hard. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this sooner!”

  “Because I’m a chicken shit.”

  “Do better than that.”

  “Because I didn’t want to lose you like I lost Rebecca.”

  Frowning at that, Jade hugged her again. “You’re so stupid.”

  Riley hugged her back. “Love you too.”

  “What do you want to do?” Jade asked, letting her go.

  “Go home?” Riley quickly added, “But I don’t want you to feel like you need to leave too just because of me. From what I know about hauntings like this, the chance of that thing leaving the cellar is likely slim. Plus there aren’t any reports that he’s ever done it before. You’ll likely not experience stuff on the same level I did because—”

  “—we’re not special enough,” finished Rochelle, but she was smiling.

  Riley shrugged. “Yeah, something like that. I swear I won’t be upset if you guys want to finish out the weekend here, just stay out of the cellar. I assume they’ll close it off for at least tonight anyway because of the glass.”

  “Angela said it’s closed for the rest of the weekend,” Pamela said.

  “Good.” Her friends shifted anxiously, shooting looks at each other out of the corner of their eyes. But no one said anything. “I honestly won’t be upset if you all stay. You’ve been waiting to get in here for such a long time.”

  Jade pursed her lips. “You say the word and we’ll caravan out of here.”

  “Stay. Really.”

  After a few more seconds of silence, Brie said, “How would you get home? It’s not like we can call you a taxi without it costing you a small fortune.”

  “Michael said he’d drive her.” Jade waggled her eyebrows.

  “This is so not the time to worry about my love life,” Riley said, rolling her eyes.

  “Maybe the reason for this whole thing was the universe shoving the two of you together,” Rochelle said.

  “No more Tiana’s Circle for you.”

  Rochelle grinned.

  “I think we’ll stay, but we promise to skedaddle if things get hairy,” said Jade. “Well, hairier.”

  Riley figured on some level that her experience would make them even more keen to stay. Plus, there were no refunds. Riley couldn’t care less about her own loss of money.

  She explained the energy theory—that a spirit would pull in energy from any sources it could to manifest itself. “The good news is that whatever’s down there still wasn’t able to fully manifest beyond taking shape as a shadow-person. And I really do think he’s trapped there. So just … be safe.”

  Wringing her hands, Pamela looked over her shoulder at the house, then back at Riley. “Can I go with you? I don’t … I don’t think I can stay here either. I keep thinking that … thing … is behind me.”

  “Of course.”

  Brie and Rochelle hugged Riley, then headed back inside.

  “I’ll go get our stuff,” Pamela said, before hurrying after Rochelle and Brie.

  Shifting her attention to Jade, Riley said, “Please, please be safe.”

  “We will. You be safe, too.” Jade blanched suddenly. “What if Michael is a psycho?”

  “You were practically planning our wedding like ten seconds ago!”

  “I just needed to say it,” Jade said, waving her hands dismissively. “Call and leave a message here when you get reception back, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Riley watched her friend disappear inside.

  Some twenty minutes later, Michael walked out, a duffel over his shoulder, her bag in one hand, and a book in the other. Pamela was on his heels, backpack strapped on.

  “You two ready?” Michael asked.

  Riley nodded, shouldering her bag. Pamela offered her a small smile.

  “I’m guessing this is yours?” The book Michael held was the one she’d been reading when Pete showed up. She’d forgotten all about it. “It was on your chair.”

  “Thank you,” Riley said, cradling it to her chest. “So how are we getting out of here?”

  “We’re taking my sister’s car. They’re gonna hitch a ride back with your friends. They really hit it off with Brie.”

  He led them to a white four-door sedan and opened the trunk for their bags. Pamela let herself into the back and wrapped her arms around herself.

  After getting situated in the passenger seat, Riley turned to glance back at Pamela. “You okay?”

  Pamela’s eyes were lined with silver again, moments from losing it. “I’ll be better when we get the hell out of here. I’m never watching Paranormal Playground again. Lying bastards. This place is haunted as hell and they had no idea.”

  It had been a long time since Riley had roomed with Pamela, but she had very few memories of the other girl sounding this … venomous. But people reacted to this kind of thing in very different ways.

  Michael slid into the driver’s seat.

  Something occurred to Riley then. “Where do you live?”

  “Florida.”

  “What?”

  Michael laughed. “The look on your face! I live in Los Lunas, about half an hour outside Albuquerque.”

  “Not funny! I was actually really worried you lived far from me.”

  “Aw!”

  She fought a smile and lost. “I mean because I don’t want it to be out of your way. Pam and I live in Albuquerque.”

  “I guess that makes sense.” As he maneuvered the car out of the tiny parking lot, Riley’s leg started to bounce, just as nervous now to leave as she’d been to stay. He placed a hand on her knee for a moment to still it. “Why don’t you find something for us to listen to? I grant you full access to the radio.”

  “You’re going to regret the hell out of that.”

  From the backseat came Pamela’s soft, faraway voice. “They’ll be okay, right?”

  Riley turned in her seat again, her friend’s gaze focused on the house to their left as Michael made the slow drive along the gravel-covered driveway. With Pamela’s face cast in shadows, her smudged makeup looked even darker below her eyes, as if she hadn’t slept in weeks.

  It reminded Riley of the dark smudges she’d seen under Pete’s eyes, in the dream where he’d been running from Orin.

  “Yeah, they’ll be fine,” Riley said, though she could hear the lack of confidence in her own voice.

  “They’re in good hands,” Michael echoed. If he thought his sister and sister-in-law were in any real danger, he wouldn’t leave them behind just to get two virtual strangers to safety, would he?

  Pamela nodded, but didn’t say anything. She slunk down a little more in her seat and closed her eyes.

  Sighing, Riley turned back in her seat. “It feels like I was here for a week,” she said, staring out the window at the dark forest beyond the blank backside of the welcome sign. Then, rather abruptly, she asked, “You’re not a psycho, right?”

  “Wait, what?”

  Staring at
his profile, she took in the day-old scruff on his face. “I barely know you.”

  “True,” he said. “We have roughly four hours to fix that. And, no, I’m not a psycho. I don’t think.”

  Four hours. The dashboard clock read two in the morning.

  When they pulled out onto the two-lane road masquerading as a highway, some of the tension in her chest eased. Soft snores emanated from the back seat. Back in college, Pamela had been a fairly heavy sleeper.

  Riley flicked on the radio and hit scan. Either static, Christian ballads, Spanish language programs, or opera. She hit the power button.

  “Why don’t you tell me about what happened in there.”

  Riley really wasn’t in the mood to recount it again, but he’d been in that cellar, too. He’d gotten the firsthand evidence of the paranormal he claimed he’d needed and was probably confused as hell. Glancing behind her, she confirmed Pamela was still asleep before she told him about her dream and her run-in with the same boy in the lobby. Michael stayed quiet, hands kept firmly at ten-and-two on the steering wheel.

  “So that kid you asked about—Peter V-something—”

  “Vonick.”

  “Yeah, him. You saw him?”

  “Plain as day.”

  “If you were seeing him right now, would I see him too?”

  “I don’t know. No one could see Mariah but me,” she said. “He might have shown up when he did because I was alone.”

  “Hm.” After a long pause he said, “Do you really think that was Orin?”

  Riley shook her head. “I don’t know that either. It kind of reminds me of the Ouija board fiasco. Something about the spirit felt … off. Well, you know, other than the obvious. I mean, Mariah was a baby when she died. How would she know how to spell her name?”

  “That’s the thing you wonder about?”

  Face flushed, she managed a laugh. “Is that stupid? It’s not like I know how this all works.”

  “No, not stupid,” he said. “I guess I wonder if she was just a baby when she died, and it was a fluke that killed her, why all the hostility?”

  “Yeah! That’s kinda what I mean. The haunting felt … older? Like maybe it used Mariah to manipulate us?”