Dead Stream Curse: A Northern Michigan Asylum Novel

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Dead Stream Curse: A Northern Michigan Asylum Novel Page 22

by Erickson, J. R.


  “What did she look like?” Mack asked, his legs and hands growing jittery.

  Riley waved at the top of his head. “Blonde hair all pinned on her head. And she was in a straightjacket! So much for their no-straightjacket policy, huh?”

  “Better never put me in a straightjacket,” Travis hissed, flexing his tiny fists.

  “How do I find her?” Mack asked, surprising Riley and Travis both.

  “Oh, she’s long gone, brother. She’s probably on a bus to Texas,” Riley told him.

  “That or hidin’ in the woods, waitin’ to kill the doctors off one by one. Wouldn’t that be a trip?” Travis asked. “A crazy woman livin’ in those woods.”

  “Somethin’ lives in ‘em,” Riley grumbled. “Those woods give me some serious vibes, and they ain’t the good kind.”

  Mack shook his head.

  “Not Sophia. How do I find the woman in the operations corridor?”

  Riley cocked an eyebrow.

  “Thinkin’ of doin’ a little explorin’? They’ll throw ya in solitary if they catch you.”

  “I’ll take the risk,” Mack insisted.

  Riley appraised him with new respect.

  “Best to wait until lights out. Edmund can’t stay awake to save his life, and he’s in the chair that leads to the side stairs. Slip past him and go down two floors. It’s all offices in the first hall. Follow that to the end and turn right. Those are the operating rooms.”

  “How do you know all this?” Mack asked. “You’ve been here two days.”

  Riley grinned.

  “I’ve been here three-hundred and forty-four days. But I don’t stay for long. Gotta keep movin’. I like to think of this place as my home away from home. I’ve been getting prodded by these doctors since I was eleven years old. I could escape blind-folded walkin’ backwards. But why bother? The food’s not so bad.”

  Travis roared as if Riley had just offered the most hilarious joke he’d ever heard.

  Riley winked at Mack, and Mack saw something troubling in the kid’s gaze, an emptiness in his hazel eyes.

  “Thanks,” Mack told him before turning and heading for his room.

  * * *

  Riley had been right; Edmund could barely keep his eyes open once the sun set.

  Long shadows from the lights at either end of the corridor provided plenty of cover for Mack as he slipped down the hall to the stairs. He counted the steps as he walked, sensing George Corey in the surrounding space.

  He checked each door as he hurried down the operations hallway. He found the third door locked.

  “Liv,” he called through the door. “Liv, are you in there?”

  He felt a puff of cold breath against his ear and spun around.

  No one stood behind him, but footsteps sounded from the end of the corridor. Mack ducked into the room across the hall.

  A table sat in the center of the room.

  As Mack crept closer, his breath caught in his throat. Something large and lumpy lay beneath the white sheet on the steel table.

  His hand trembled as he reached out, fearing he’d find Liv beneath the sheet.

  He peeled back the cover to find a young man, a dark red burn around his neck, his eyes half-open and staring sightlessly into the void.

  Kent did not look peaceful in death. His skin was mottled and yellowing. His tongue, large and gray, poked from the corner of his mouth.

  Mack stumbled back, halting when he heard the door to the room opposite him swing open.

  He listened to muffled voices and watched through a slit in the door as Dr. Kaiser slipped out. In the room behind him, he glimpsed Liv.

  After Kaiser disappeared down the hallway, Mack hurried to Liv’s door and dropped to his hands and knees.

  “Liv,” he whispered. “Liv?”

  “I’m here,” she said.

  “Something happened,” Mack told her, relieved at the sound of her voice. “The patient who speaks to the dead escaped.

  “It’s starting,” Liv said.

  He had to strain to hear her.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The wheel of fate, Mack. It started turning when he murdered George. And now he has killed again. He will try for three.”

  “What do you mean three? Did he kill Kent, the orderly? Who’s number three? You?” Mack considered beating the door down. He could do it. A few swift kicks and he’d be inside, but the orderlies and the nurses would come running. They’d be armed with needles and straitjackets and padded rooms. By the time Mack woke up, Liv would likely be dead.

  “Yes, and then will come his undoing,” Liv told him, “but only if that bone is in the woods. I have to work tonight.”

  “You’re locked in there. How can you possibly do anything? And what do you mean, bone? One of George’s bones?”

  “Be ready tomorrow, Mack. Tomorrow Stephen Kaiser will try again to take a life.”

  Chapter 34

  September 1965

  Jesse

  A petite woman with short curls that clung to her head walked out the door of the little yellow Cape Cod on Palmetto Avenue. She carried a watering can.

  Two girls followed, one larger than the other, nearly as tall as her mother with long wavy blond hair. The smaller girl had her mother’s curls and small features.

  Jesse brushed off his coat and stepped from his car.

  The woman looked up as he approached. She offered a hesitant smile.

  “Arlene Hester?” he asked.

  “Yes?” her voice was as small as her frame, but her eyes were big and bright.

  “My name’s Jesse Kaminski. I’m trying to find your sister, Liv.”

  The woman’s eyes opened wider, and she dropped the watering can. It clanked on the stone pathway in front of her flowers.

  “You know Liv?” she asked.

  The older girl picked up the watering can and watched Jesse suspiciously.

  “Well, no,” he admitted. “Her name came up recently and-”

  “Where? Where did her name come up?” the woman asked eagerly.

  “I’ve been looking into buying the Kaiser house, but can’t seem to find the woman who owns it, or her son. Someone mentioned that Liv and Stephen Kaiser were close friends.”

  “For a summer,” Arlene murmured. She looked at her older daughter sadly. “Honey, can you take Penny in the house and play?”

  “Sure.” The older girl took her little sister’s hand, and the girl followed without complaint.

  “Liv left after that summer. That was twenty years ago,” Arlene said, holding the water can tight to her stomach.

  “And then what? She moved away, or…”

  “Mr. Kaminski, I don’t know what happened to my sister. I never saw her again. I never spoke with her again. My mother told us she moved out west. That was it.”

  Jesse frowned.

  “Why did she leave, Mrs. Hester?”

  Arlene stared at him.

  “I wonder why you’d like to know, sir. Clearly, she won’t be able to help you purchase a home in a state she hasn’t lived in for two decades.”

  “I’m a curious man. I apologize for the intrusion.”

  Jesse turned and started away.

  “No, wait,” Arlene called.

  Jesse turned back.

  “I was hurt when she left. I was only seven, but I remember her. I miss her even now. Our mother died three years ago.” Arlene picked a wilted pink rose from the bush.

  “And your father?” Jesse asked.

  Arlene looked away from him, and then into the flower.

  “My oldest girl looks like Liv - Melanie. She’s tall and strong and has the same wild hair. Interesting, because we’d always believed it came from Liv’s father. Maybe it did. And somehow my daughter received it anyway.” Arlene laughed and shrugged. “Liv and I did not share a father. Her father was a secret in our family. Even our brothers didn’t know she had a different father than them. I mean, everyone knew that I did because my mother’s fir
st husband, Mark, died in 1927. But she slept with a man after Mark died. His name was George Corey, and he lived in the Stoneroot Forest. He was Liv’s biological father.”

  Arlene put a startled hand to her mouth as if surprised at all she’d just shared.

  “Why was he a secret?”

  Arlene plucked one of the wrinkled petals and dropped it to the stone path beneath her.

  “I shouldn’t be telling you this,” she said, glancing back toward her house. My mother…”

  “Is gone,” Jesse reminded her. “I’m very sorry for your loss, but perhaps I can help you find your sister.”

  “George was a secret because women did not have sex with strange men when they were newly widowed in those days.” She laughed and blushed. “I’d imagine they don’t do it now-a-days either, though the world has certainly changed. George was also… a strange man. He lived in a little cabin deep in the woods. He didn’t drive a car or use a telephone. He taught Liv about plants and…” She fluttered her fingers, as if she didn’t have words for the things George taught Liv.

  “If he was a secret, how did you know about him?”

  “It wasn’t a secret that he existed, but Liv referred to him as an uncle. My mom said that he’d been a close friend of Mark’s and he’d taken Liv under his wing. After Liv left, my mom told me the truth. She grieved her missing daughter for many years. She started to go visit George every few months, hoping for word. He would tell her things, though he claimed Liv never communicated with him.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Arlene chuckled.

  “Neither did I. Or do I, for that matter. George called Liv ‘Volva’. He came to America from Norway when he was a young man. In Norway, he lived on a secluded island and he practiced a kind of witchcraft, I guess.” She frowned as she tried to explain. “I can’t believe I’m telling you these things. I’ve never spoken of them to anyone. My mother forbade it. But you’re right, she’s gone now. George told us that Liv took care of children and lived on the east coast. He never mentioned happiness, but he spoke a lot about purpose and cleansing the past through service. He was a strange man, and most of what he said went over my head. Over my mother’s head too, but she found comfort in his reassurances that Liv was okay.”

  “But you never had evidence from Liv that she was okay?”

  “My mother received a few blank postcards over the years – usually on her birthday. Years would lapse between them, and then one day, a postcard with an ocean sunset would arrive. My mom believed they came from Liv.”

  Jesse nodded.

  “Did you know Liv’s friend, Stephen Kaiser?”

  Arlene nodded.

  “Not well, but he saved my life.”

  “He saved your life?”

  “I jumped into the Dead Stream and nearly drowned. He went in after me, though he wasn’t much of a swimmer himself. If he hadn’t, I wouldn’t be here today. The moment I stepped off the bank, the riptide took me. I’ve never been so scared in my life. I could swim. I loved to swim, but I was no match for that river.”

  “Do you think Stephen and Liv left together?”

  Arlene shook her head.

  “My mother asked George the same thing, and he insisted that she did not. He also told my mother to stay away from Stephen Kaiser.”

  “Why is that?”

  “I wish I knew.”

  “Arlene, could you direct me to George? Maybe he could-” Jesse started.

  But she was already shaking her head.

  “I never went to his home. He lived in the Stoneroot Forest down near Kalkaska, but that was twenty years ago.”

  “The Stoneroot Forest,” Jesse repeated, committing the name to memory. “Thanks for talking to me, Arlene.”

  She smiled.

  “If you find Liv, tell her Arlene misses her.”

  He nodded, offered her a salute and walked backwards down her driveway. He spotted the older daughter in the window watching him curiously.

  Chapter 35

  October 30, 1945

  Liv

  “Boo!”

  Liv felt hands on her shoulders and she jumped, sending the leather bag filled with bloodroot to the forest floor.

  Stephen stepped in front of her.

  “You’re back!” she exclaimed, grabbing his hands and nearly jumping up and down with glee.

  “Look who’s happy to see me.” He grinned and knelt, gathering the roots back into her bag. “What are these?” He lifted a root, caked in dirt, and sniffed it.

  “Bloodroot. We can use it to treat croup, but it’s also poisonous, so don’t take a bite.”

  He dropped the root back into the bag and handed it to her.

  “I thought you weren’t coming home until tomorrow for Halloween. Didn’t you have class today?” she asked.

  “I skipped out, jumped on a train this morning. My mother went to Chicago to buy overpriced champagne for the masquerade ball and no doubt visit a friend. She’s gone for the night.”

  The way he said ‘friend’ revealed Stephen’s opinion of his mother’s friends.

  “A man friend?” Liv asked.

  Stephen took Liv’s hand.

  “It doesn’t matter. Come home with me. I have a present for you.”

  * * *

  Stephen led Liv to the third floor, and then pushed open the door to the attic. They walked up the narrow staircase.

  The rafters were low. The room smelled sweet, as if the fine layer of dust that coated the boxes was actually sugar.

  As they walked deeper, Liv saw flickering lights. In the back of the attic, Stephen had arranged candles in a circle around a red blanket. A silver tray of chocolate pumpkins sat in the center.

  “You know,” he told her, picking up a chocolate and handing it to her, “some people call the night before Halloween, Mischief Night. A few guys at school were going out to soap windows and throw eggs. Kid’s stuff. I couldn’t imagine anyone I’d want to do mischief with more than you.”

  Liv took the chocolate but couldn’t put it in her mouth. Her legs trembled and her stomach did little flips. The candles and the warmth of the room made her dizzy, and she put a hand up to a rafter to steady herself.

  “This is for you,” he said, sitting on the blanket and putting his hand on a black gift box. A red bow sat in the center.

  Liv sank to her knees and pulled the box toward her. She lifted the lid. Nestled in a sheath of tissue paper, she found an olive-colored satin gown. On top of the gown rested a jewel-encrusted mask in the shape of a cat’s face.

  “I bought it in Detroit,” he told her, just over her shoulder now. She felt his breath on her neck, and when she turned, Liv saw the candlelight dancing in his pale eyes.

  When he leaned forward, she drew in a breath, but did not pull away.

  He kissed her.

  His lips were soft, and warm.

  She kissed back, yielding into him as he eased her back onto the blanket. Helplessness spiraled her down and down.

  She went willingly, thinking of winter nights with George only days before. She had sung in the spirit of Freya, the goddess not only of battle, but also of love.

  As she wrapped her arms around Stephen’s neck, she imagined the images of Freya in George’s books, a woman with wild hair and blazing eyes.

  Stephen’s kissing grew more urgent, and Liv’s own desire grew to a crescendo to meet his. He pulled at her clothes and she shrugged out of her pants, laughing when one foot got stuck. Her fingers shook as she unbuckled his suspenders and then loosened his trousers.

  Her thoughts lured her away, wanted to criticize her awkwardness, remind her of the frayed elastic in her panties or her breasts loose beneath her shirt.

  “I am here,” she whispered.

  Stephen paused and gazed at her for a long moment.

  “Destiny,” he breathed, and then lowered his mouth to hers.

  * * *

  Liv slept next to Stephen all night. Curled beneath his satin cover
s, she felt the achy wetness between her legs.

  She had not only kissed a boy that night; she had gone all the way. There were people who would whisper about women who did such things out of wedlock, but Liv had not been raised in such families. George spoke of Viking women as free, their bodies not bound by the close-minded ideas of men. Her own mother had created Liv from a night of grief mingled with yearning.

  As Stephen slept beside her, his breath soft and lilting, Liv’s mind wandered to the future. What would become of their love? Of this night?

  The following night was Halloween, and the Masquerade Ball. They had planned to play their trick on Veronica, inviting her to the party and then handing her the Night Haunts curse.

  Suddenly none of it mattered. Not the kids who’d teased Liv, not Veronica and her friends, not the poverty she’d grown up in, not even George and the old ways. Liv wanted only to lie in bed with Stephen forever.

  * * *

  She walked home in the chill of early morning. Stephen had kissed her goodbye, his lips warm in the cold October dawn. Icy dew clung to Liv’s shoes and the hem of her pants. She held the gift box tucked under one arm.

  The night before drove her deep into her thoughts. As she walked, she did not see the trees or the road edge, but only Stephen leaning over her in the firelight.

  A longing to return to him sat heavy in her limbs, but a sense of wanting to run lingered there too. Because what would become of their friendship now that they’d crossed that invisible threshold?

  Snores filled her ramshackle home when she crept in.

  Her mother sat at the kitchen table, already awake for the day at five a.m., sipping her chicory coffee and looking haggard.

  When Liv walked in, her mother’s eyes widened.

  “You’re home,” she gasped. “I had the most terrible dream that you’d gone away.”

  She stood and walked to Liv, pulling her close.

  “I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

 

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