The kitchen bent in an L shape, and after passing through it, they came to another large room that held a long table.
“Dining room,” Ron said, walking around it. “No chairs.”
“That thing looks heavy,” Jake replied. “I wouldn’t have wanted to move it, either.”
A muffled thump came from overhead; it sounded as though something had fallen over and hit the floor above. Both Ron and Jake jumped, and looked up.
“That wasn’t just the house creaking,” Jake said. “Something’s up there.”
A series of lighter thumps followed, like steps running away from the original thump, becoming softer and softer until they disappeared.
“You still got that machete?” Jake asked.
“It’s in the pack.”
“Give it to me.”
Ron lowered the pack from his back and removed the blade, handing it to Jake. “So, listen, you look a little wired up.”
“A little?” Jake replied, brandishing the machete in the air in front of him.
“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mistake me for something else and accidentally take off one of my arms.”
“Of course not,” Jake replied, glancing at him, then swirling the blade in the air, producing swishing sounds. “If this house has been abandoned as long as it has, who knows what we might run into in here. All kinds of ghosts and shit.”
“You do realize, traditionally, a machete isn’t going to work on a ghost. As far as I know.”
“I don’t expect it to,” Jake replied. “There might be physical threats. Dogs, or raccoons. Might be rabid. Or squatters. Squatters with guns.”
“Uh huh,” Ron replied, swinging the pack onto his back. “Just keep that blade away from me.” He looked into the next room. “You first. I’m not standing in front of you with that thing in your hands.”
Jake took the lead and they moved on. Whereas the wallpaper in other areas bore the outlines of artwork that had previously hung there, the outlines in this room framed taller structures.
“There used to be bookcases in here,” Ron observed as they moved through the room. “A library, maybe.”
Jake, brandishing the machete in front of him, pressed on, entering a large, two story entryway. To their left was the front door of the mansion. They eyed it with suspicion, looking at the handle. Ron knew they were both thinking the same thing: who shook the doors?
Behind them the entryway continued, halls leading to the left and right wings. At the end, large glass windows looked out upon the garden court, and to their right, another hallway.
They left the front door and walked through the entryway, toward the large windows. Ron realized it wasn’t a hallway down by the windows, but a wide staircase leading up. Once they reached it, he saw that it, too, was lined with windows all along on the left side, and on the right were nails and wire where more frames had once hung. He imagined that when the sun was at mid-day, this area must have been very pleasant and airy; sunlight streaming in, the garden outside on full display. A great design, he thought. Strolling up the stairs must have been enjoyable.
Now, however, all of the windows were blacked out; faint lines of light eked in around each pane, not enough to illuminate, just enough to highlight the outline of the glass. With both of their flashlights shining up the stairs, the landing at the top was barely visible. Ron guessed the stairs must crest into an open area, because no wall was visible beyond.
Another faint thump in the distance reached their ears. Ron thought it came from upstairs, but his friend was looking the other way, back down the entryway.
“You heard that?” Jake asked.
“Of course I did. Sounded like it came from upstairs again. Maybe that same spot we heard before.”
“I thought it came from there,” Jake replied, nodding toward the front door. “Like it was outside.”
“No, it was definitely up there,” Ron said, his flashlight still illuminating the stairs.
They paused, listening, the only sound their breathing. After a moment, Ron said, “Nothing. I don’t hear anything more.”
“Me either.”
“Are we going up?” Jake asked.
“Haven’t finished the other side of the house,” Ron said. “My OCD says we should finish this floor first, then go up.”
“My desire to not run into whatever is up there agrees with you,” Jake replied.
They turned, taking the hallway that led into the eastern wing of the mansion.
“You haven’t used one of the nazars yet, have you?” Jake asked, as they passed empty room after empty room.
“No.”
“Well, since you have to use one of them to see shit, maybe you should. Maybe we passed the thing we’re looking for already, back there in the kitchen or the rooms on the other side, and didn’t realize.”
“I don’t think so, but I’ll use one if you want.” Ron stopped walking and opened the backpack. He’d stored a handful of the small, round objects in a plastic container, which he opened, removing one and sealing up the others.
“This isn’t going to incapacitate you, is it?” Jake asked. “I don’t want to have to carry you around.”
“I don’t think so. It didn’t the first time I used one; I was still able to walk just fine. It was when I drank that stuff Abe gave me that I left my body.”
“And we’re saving that for later.”
“Yeah.”
They both stared at Ron’s outstretched hand, waiting for it to dissolve.
“Don’t watch it,” Ron said, as Jake raised his face to look him in the eyes. “It doesn’t do its thing if you’re watching it directly, remember. You have to look away, become distracted.”
“Oh, yeah, right,” Jake replied, then looked down again.
It was gone. A circle of little red dots on Ron’s palm was rapidly fading.
“Little fucker works fast,” Jake said. “Did you feel it go in?”
“No. Didn’t feel anything. Didn’t the last time, either.”
“Is it working? Do you see anything?”
Ron looked around the hallway they were standing in, glancing into the two open doors before them.
“No,” he replied. “Nothing. Come on, let’s keep going.”
The rest of the east wing’s downstairs rooms were non-eventful, empty and quiet, without any indication of something odd or unusual. At the very end of the wing was a staircase leading up; it wasn’t as wide as the one in the main part of the house, but it, too, was built with one side lined by windows that would have looked out over the yard, had they not been covered over with blackness.
They ascended. Whereas the central staircase had been carpeted, this one was not, and each step seemed to produce creaks and reverberations, as though the wood didn’t appreciate their weight. As Ron was mid-way up, one step felt springy under him, and he wondered if it might give way; he decided to warn Jake about it.
“Careful of this one, it’s a little…hey, how’d I let you get behind me with that blade? I can just see myself falling and impaling on it.”
“Don’t be so dramatic,” Jake replied. “Not going to happen.”
“You seem to forget that morning with the gun.”
“I was dreaming then.”
“We might both be dreaming now,” Ron mused, continuing up. “Kinda feels like a dream.”
“It’s that thing in your system. I assure you, I feel very much alive and alert.”
“Just don’t get all freaked out with that thing in your hand.”
“Jesus Christ, will you stop? I’m not going to cut you with it!”
They reached the top of the stairs. It was yet another open space, with a hallway leading away, down the upper floor of the wing. Ron stopped for a moment, thinking the light from his beam had caught movement in the distance; he focused his eyes, trying to make out whatever had caused it.
“You see something?” Jake whispered.
“There,” Ron replied, whispering back. “Down this hallway. Ca
n’t tell if it’s at the very end or not, too far away, but it’s standing there.”
“It’s?”
“Looks like a person.”
Jake squinted, his light joining Ron’s. “I don’t see anything.”
“It’s standing there, right in the middle, looking our way.” He felt himself involuntarily shiver with the willies. “Damn, it’s creeping me the fuck out.”
Jake kept searching. “I can’t see it. Must be the nazar. You can see it, I can’t.”
“Consider yourself lucky,” Ron replied.
The figure down the hallway began to move, slowly coming toward them, and Ron felt the hair on the back of his neck stand in response. The light from their flashlights didn’t seem to bother it in the slightest; it kept gliding over the floor, getting closer with each second. Ron could make out features on its face, and its eyes. Another chill went down his spine as he realized they were focused on him.
“It’s a man,” he said. “He’s seen us. He’s coming our way.”
“Fuck!” Jake said, starting to sound panicked. “What do we do?”
“Just wait,” Ron replied. “Maybe he’ll stop.”
But the figure didn’t stop. It kept moving, coming their direction, its eyes fixed on them. When it was ten feet from the end of the hallway, Ron took an involuntary step back. Jake noticed, and raised the machete.
“Hello?” Ron called, unsure of what else to do. “Hello? Are you…”
The figure froze.
“What?” Jake whispered. “What’s it doing?”
“He stopped,” Ron replied.
The head on the man twisted slightly, then righted. Ron thought he looked confused.
“I think he’s surprised that I can see him,” Ron whispered to Jake. “That I spoke to him.”
Without turning, the figure began to drift to the right until it reached the wall of the hallway. Ron kept watching as the man’s shoulder entered the wall and disappeared; within seconds the rest of its body had passed through, gone.
“Fuck,” Ron said. “It slid through that wall.”
“Slid?”
“Just kind of drifted. Eerie as fuck.”
“So, it went into that room?” Jake asked, pointing his flashlight at the first doorway down the hall.
“I guess so.”
“What’s it doing in there?”
“I don’t know, Jake, I can’t see through walls.”
“Well, fuck, Ron,” Jake said, his voice rising, holding out the machete. “Do we go down that hall? What do we do?”
Everything in Ron’s rational mind told him that it was time to run, to abandon the effort. Entering the old house had bothered him a little, not because of what might be inside, but because of the guilt he felt at trespassing, at breaking in. The shaking, the thumps…they were all physical things, things his mind insisted must have a rational explanation; reminding himself of that had somehow kept his thinking focused on the goal, undeterred.
The ghostly figure of the man in the hallway, sliding through the wall…that was a different matter.
Now, suddenly, he felt like he’d wandered into the lion’s den, the two of them potentially surrounded by any number of disturbing figures like the one he’d just seen. The house could be full of them, like my house, he thought. Are they dangerous? Can they hurt us? His thoughts left him feeling overwhelmed and outnumbered. Watching Jake wield his machete seemed pathetic; it might have worked to hack through the physical obstructions outside the house, but he suspected it would have no effect here, inside; it wasn’t going to be a defense against an entity that could pass through walls.
“I don’t know,” he eventually replied to Jake, realizing that he sounded unsure, shaken. “I don’t know what to do.”
You weren’t scared like this before the nazar, he thought. You broke right in and walked through half the house without a care. It’s suddenly witnessing these things that’s affecting you. They were already here, you’re just now able to see them, that’s all. Pull your shit together. It’s just more information than before. Same house, same goal. Just more information.
He took a deep breath. “I guess we just push on.”
Even though he preferred to have his friend in front of him, keeping the blade from behind his back, he stepped forward, feeling the need to lead. You’re the reason he’s scared now, he thought. You’re seeing things he’s not meant to see. There’s no need to tell him everything, to blow his mind like this. Edit yourself.
He walked down the hallway to the first door on the right. If the entity he saw hadn’t simply disappeared, but passed through the wall, it would be inside.
Stepping into the room, he felt Jake right behind him, and he took an extra step to make sure he was clear of his friend’s blade. Then he looked around.
It was in the corner, looking at him, but it was different; in fact, it was so different, he wasn’t sure it was the same creature. What he’d seen in the hall looked like a man – a regular, proportioned man – but the thing in the corner was distorted. Its face was longer – much longer. It looked as though its jaw had been stretched, forcing its mouth open. There were no teeth, just a large, gaping hole that stretched downward a foot or more. The features above it had stretched too; the eyes were shaped like eggs. The pupils inside were alive, though, very much alive: moving, focusing, looking at him.
“Well?” Jake asked. “Is it here?”
“No,” he said, still staring at the corner, finding it hard to tear his eyes away from the bizarre apparition.
“You’re lying. It’s there, in that corner, isn’t it?”
“You can see it?”
“I can see you’re freaked out by something over there.”
“OK, it’s there.”
“Why’d you say it wasn’t?”
“Because it looks even more fucked up than before, and I’m trying not to freak you out.”
“I’m fine,” Jake said, standing up straight, lowering the machete a little. “You don’t need to worry about me. I can handle myself.”
“It’s different now,” Ron said. “It’s shifted, it’s…”
He stopped. The entity in the corner was slowly morphing as he spoke, its long distended jaw reeling upwards, its face regaining its former shape. The man’s eyes were still centered on him, staring. When it finished, it looked just like it did in the hallway, its face normal.
Somehow, normal was even more disturbing than how it looked stretched.
How do I know this isn’t the nazar? he wondered. Maybe it always looks stretched, maybe the nazar is changing it, adjusting it for my brain. Or maybe it looks like a normal man all the time, but the nazar has twisted it, manipulated what I see.
Not knowing for sure made him feel even more uneasy. If I can’t trust what I see, how do I…
More thumps came from places distant in the house, causing both of them to jump. Ron felt as though there was a bubble of panic in his chest that had swollen to a size he wasn’t able to manage. He began to feel that he’d made a mistake, that the whole enterprise needed to stop, that he needed to find a way to quickly wind it down. Somehow he let himself become wrapped up in this crazy idea, this absolutely insane, irrational solution of Abe’s, and what he really needed to do was get out of this mansion, go home, and finish setting his house in order. Elenore would be back from Europe, and she and Robbie were coming to live there. He needed to get it ready. That was the priority. That was what he should be doing.
To hell with all this ghost bullshit.
Then, the creature in the corner began to fade a little; he could see the wallpaper behind it, through it. It was becoming more translucent by the second, as though it had made up its mind to go somewhere else, and was leaving.
A few seconds more, and it was gone.
“It left,” he said.
“Good. Where’d it go?”
“No idea. Just faded away.”
Jake turned, heading back to the hallway. He’s soldiering on
, Ron thought. For a second he almost stopped him, wanting to tell his friend it was time to leave and throw in the towel. Instead, he found himself following him out, unsure why he wasn’t saying the words.
Because you don’t want to sound like a coward, he thought. The house isn’t livable unless you do this. Elenore and Robbie would be in danger, would be scared out of their minds if you don’t finish this.
The hallway was quiet and empty, and they moved down it quickly, sticking their heads in each room, speeding up their inspection. Soon they reached the main section of the house, and turned left.
“How many fucking rooms do you need?” Jake asked. “Seriously?”
“I can’t fathom what they put in each one,” Ron replied.
“That’s a ton of stuff. Can you imagine moving all that crap? What an albatross.”
“Rich people don’t move their stuff, they have other people move their stuff.”
“I hate rich people,” Jake muttered.
In the center of the main structure they came upon a large room that had huge windows facing the front of the house, and on the opposite wall, windows that would have looked over the garden courtyard. The black film that had coated every window in the house covered these as well, making the room dark and foreboding.
“The stairs,” Jake said, standing at one end of the room, his flashlight aimed down. “Must be the ones we saw earlier, before we entered the east wing.”
Ron felt something uneasy in the room. He scanned carefully, trying to detect what he was feeling, needing something visual to confirm the odd sensation of being watched. He approached the windows, examining the black coating that blocked the light; he ran his fingers over it, as he had on the one outside before they entered. The film firmly coated the glass like paint. When he pulled his fingers away, he used the flashlight to see if anything had rubbed off. They were clean; not even a sign of dust or dirt.
He turned around to look at the other end of the room, where the other set of windows faced the front of the house. The moment he did, he felt something shift…a fresh set of eyes were now watching him, focused on him. The sensation was eerie, and was driving him crazy.
What?
What is looking at me?
He quickly turned back to the window pane he’d touched, catching a faint movement, the last steps of something in transition. All of the panes of glass looked dark and smooth, but in that moment as he turned, he’d seen something in his peripheral vision, something shifting. And now, the sensation of being watched was still there, but different, coming from a different direction.
The Coldwater Haunting Page 29
