The Dead House

by Dawn Kurtagich

  I don’t know—I don’t bloody know! Shhh! I hear something—

  91

  8 days until the incident

  Naida Camera Footage

  Tuesday, 25 January 2005, 3:14 AM

  Basement

  Footsteps echo in the room as someone hurries down the stairs, their heavy, condensed breath following like a trail. The armoire door is broken, kicked out from the inside.

  “Carly?”

  Kaitlyn, who has been kneeling in the corner over her journal, looks up as Brett rounds the corner from the stairwell. All we see of him is his dark outline, trapped in the shadows of the darkest part of the room. The meager lightbulb flickers above him.

  “Anything?” Kaitlyn asks, closing her book and sliding it behind her. “News? Is she okay?”

  “They were operating when I left.”

  “Can they… fix it?”

  He steps closer, out of the shadows, and Kaitlyn gets to her feet, but doesn’t move closer. Brett seems to teeter, wanting to step forward.

  “No. She’ll… she’s lost it. I… What the hell happened in here, Carly?”

  “Kaitlyn.”

  He nods. “Sorry.”

  “You saw. You saw what happened.”

  He grabs his hair and shakes his head. “I don’t know—she… she cut off her own tongue… she almost died.”

  “There was something in the house. I didn’t see it… it was going to do something to me… maybe kill me? I don’t know. Can the thing in the house live if the house itself—me—is gone? But it was going to get inside me maybe, control me? And Naida… Naida, she—she put herself in the way. It got her. I… I don’t know why she cut out her… maybe the thing made her… or maybe she did it to protect us from it… maybe it was trying to possess her? Use her against us? And she stopped it. I… I don’t know, Brett. I just don’t know!”

  She is shrill.

  “This is mental,” he says, then yells, “This is insane!”

  “You didn’t believe it was real, did you?” She gives him a withering look. “Did you?”

  He sighs, paces the room. “I don’t know. I don’t bloody well know. That house—the… I don’t know!”

  “You knew something could happen. Naida explained it. She told us it was risky—”

  “Yeah, but I didn’t know it was—” He breaks off, turns to face her. “I didn’t know it was… that you… Carly…”

  “You thought I was insane? Thought I was making it up? That I really am Carly but that you had to humor me or something? That crap you spun about me being different at night was just—”

  Her words are cut off as Brett leans forward, and we can assume he is kissing her, since his arms lift and disappear as though around her small torso. “I thought… I thought I was helping you by letting you think…” Something in the shadows moves, and the camera adjusts to the change in light as Ari, apparently having descended the stairs, hurls himself at Brett.

  “Get your filthy hands off her—” An impact and a grunt.

  Surprised, Brett is thrown off balance, and with him, Kaitlyn. She hits the wall with a small cry; she grabs her elbow gingerly and watches as Ari tackles Brett to the ground, punching him repeatedly in the face.

  “Ari! Ari stop it!”

  She throws herself on Ari, and with some effort, she manages to wrench him away from the cowering Brett. She bends low over her arms.

  “You touch her again, and I’ll rip your lungs out!” Ari yells.

  Brett spits blood from his mouth and wipes his lips. “You’re psycho, man. She can bloody well kiss whoever she wants!”

  Kaitlyn shakes her head desperately at Brett. She pulls Ari gently into the opposite corner and wraps her injured arms around him. After a moment, panting heavily, his arms come around her in return. Brett gets to his feet and glares at Ari, whose back faces the camera, then shakes his head and leaves, running loudly up the stairs and slamming the door at the top.

  “You kissed him,” Ari says a few moments later, pulling away from her. His voice is low, and Kaitlyn looks startled.

  “Not really. I’m… Ari, I’m not used to being seen. Noticed. I’m… He kissed me. I was stunned.”

  He lifts his hands and cups her cheek. “I don’t want to lose you. I want you to be with me—I love you.”

  She nods. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Ari.”

  He steps away from her and faces the camera, but his expression is obscured by shadows.

  “How is she?” Kaitlyn asks at last. “How’s Naida?”

  “She’s alive.”

  “Thank God. Will she… stay… alive?”

  He nods. “Likely.”

  Kaitlyn, whose calm control seems to have been a carefully managed mask, covers her face and begins to cry. “Thank God, thank God, thank God,” she mutters, over and over. “Thank you, thank you—I’m so sorry.”

  Ari moves to the other end of the room. “Kaitlyn… what was that with Brett? Do you… like him?”

  Kaitlyn wipes roughly at her face. “He was just… reaching out, I guess. He was just scared. He needed comfort. It was stupid, but understandable. He… he liked Carly. I know he liked Carly.”

  “He has a thing for you.”

  Kaitlyn laughs shallowly. “Yeah. I guess so. I didn’t kiss him, Ari. It’s not like that.”

  “You just let him kiss you.”

  Kaitlyn shrugs. “He needed a friend.”

  “I need a friend.”

  Kaitlyn smiles and walks over to him, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him.

  [END OF CLIP]

  Diary of Kaitlyn Johnson

  Tuesday, 25 January 2005, 6:00 am

  Basement

  It’s over for them. I can’t ask—

  I won’t ask for any more.

  92

  7 days until the incident

  Diary of Kaitlyn Johnson

  Wednesday, 26 January 2005, 11:59 pm

  Forgotten Garden

  Haji is angry. Angry with me, angry with Naida.

  We arranged to meet at night, in the Forgotten Garden. Here. I taped everything so I wouldn’t get it wrong.

  Scott and Brett are at the hospital with Naida, but John wanted to come, and so did Ari. I didn’t think it was a good idea for them to be here… not at first. Not at all, maybe. So I decided to meet Haji alone. Ari didn’t like it—didn’t want to hear of it. But I insisted. Me. Haji. Alone. I had to explain to him what happened. I had to tell him how sorry I was. I don’t know what I was expecting.

  He stepped through the broken, rusted gates like a towering shadow, and I knew that of anything I might get from him, forgiveness wasn’t it. That was when I pressed Record. He was bigger than I remembered. The kind of big that makes you feel like a tin can at the foot of a skyscraper. I wanted to step away, hide my face—but I forced myself to stay rigid and calm.

  “You have caused many problems.”

  I didn’t deny it.

  “You have a Shyan working you.”

  “How did you—”

  “Naida’s ritual. I found her worker’s book. I read what she was planning.”

  “You knew we were doing something dangerous when we came to see you.”

  “Not that a Shyan was conjuring against you. Not that you planned to risk your souls on this stupid mission of yours. Naida is a foolish child for helping you.”

  I swallowed. “Naida’s a hero. You don’t look like the kind of person who would understand that. My sister’s life is at risk. Her soul is gone. Naida was helping me get it back.”

  “If an Olen holds her soul, he won’t simply give it back.”

  “I know. We made a sacrifice. A trade.”

  A scoff and a mutter. “Gorro have mercy. I sent you off thinking Naida knew what she was doing. I was wrong.”

  “We did what we could, okay? Naida did what she could.”

  “Naida is a child,” he snapped, and his voice was much louder. So. He did care, after all. “She doesn’t know how to commun
icate with a malevolent Olen. They are a destructive force only. To make them listen requires destruction. With a Shyan working them—and you—it’s a wonder you’re still alive.”

  “Naida kept me safe—”

  “Naida was stupid! Risking herself for you. For someone not of her blood, not of Fair Island!”

  “You sent us off knowing something was up! We practically told you everything! You let us go!”

  “An asking ritual, Naida said. A request. Guidance for her friend Carly. Nothing more.”

  “She’s a saint! She helped me when no one else would. She told me what was going on. Explained things. She could have let me rot away in a psychiatric hospital and lived her life free and whole. But she came to me, she saved me—she risked everything! So if you’re going to trash her when she’s lying in a hospital bed, then you can just fuck off! I’ll do this alone.”

  I started to walk away, I was almost crying. God, you can even hear it on the tape. Halfway between panting and sobbing.

  “Wait,” he called, but I didn’t. “I said, wait!”

  I stopped then, trying to swallow down the emotion, and turned as he walked towards me.

  “You’re strong.” He paused, assessing me with those ocean eyes. “That’s useful.”

  “Are you going to help me or not?”

  “It seems I have no choice. You will do this alone if you have to, won’t you?”

  I nodded.

  He muttered something so quietly I didn’t catch it. Then he said, “Foolish child. Playing with fire. If you die, the fault is yours.”

  His words didn’t scare me. “I’d die for Carly.”

  “Good!” he snapped. “Because you probably will.”

  Thursday, 27 January 2005, 1:00 am

  Basement

  What is wrong with me? I don’t understand. John just left, and… I feel like crap. He came to comfort me, put his arms around me like a protective cage, and kissed me on the top of my head. I should have felt safe.

  But something weird happened. His arms suddenly felt too firm, too tight… I was trapped. He was containing me, and I didn’t like it. I felt a surge of panic, and when he released me, a smile on his face, I thought the panic would fade. But it didn’t.

  It hasn’t.

  Dee, I’m terrified of John. My John. And I have no idea why. Could it be that there is something I don’t remember? Something from Chester that I’ve forgotten? To do with him? Did something happen? Is that what those flashes mean… with the hand and the blood and his face?

  Why am I so afraid of him? Why do I fear him coming again like I fear Haji’s upcoming ritual? It’s terror.

  Mortal terror.

  93

  6 days until the incident

  Naida Camera Footage

  Thursday, 27 January 2005, 9:00 PM

  Basement

  Haji stands in the center of the room, arms folded. Brett and Ari file in from the stairs and stand off to the side, watching Kaitlyn and each other. John follows, spots Kaitlyn, and smiles.

  “My name is Haji. I’m Naida’s brother. I don’t want to be here.” He looks at each face in turn. “But you’ve opened a door, and it needs closing. If I allow it to be left open, it will be Naida who pays for it. I ask you now—all of you—to reconsider your decision to be involved tonight.”

  Scott enters last. His usual joviality has been replaced with something more solid and reserved.

  “Scott,” Kaitlyn says, stepping forward, “is Naida—”

  “She’s resting,” he says, his voice firm and hostile. “She wanted me to come here. I wouldn’t have otherwise.”

  Kaitlyn swallows and introduces Haji.

  Scott nods at him once, and the anger and resistance on his face seem to satisfy the Mala priest.

  “I’m trying to convince you to leave. Don’t get any more involved in this. As you’ve seen, it is no game.”

  “We’re not leaving,” Ari says, stepping close to Kaitlyn.

  John shifts. “I think we’re all agreed that leaving isn’t an option. But, for my sake, would you mind telling me what exactly we intend to do?”

  Haji regards them all. “You are all so stupid,” he mutters. “Very well. Kaitlyn and I will be performing the same ritual as was performed by Naida.”

  “Are you joking?” Scott snaps. “Did you not hear what happened to Naida? You want a repeat of that?”

  “There will be no repeating that fiasco. I will get us into Kaitlyn’s mind—this Dead House you described,” he adds, in Kaitlyn’s direction. “We will all go. We will search the rooms—all of them—for the door that leads beyond her. You will know it if you find it.” His eyes move around every face. “If you do—do not go through it. Call out, and keep calling until we all come to you.”

  “Are we seriously doing this again?” John demands. “Kait?”

  She nods. “I’m seeing this through until the end.”

  “I wish you’d just leave it,” he mutters.

  “No standing off to the side this time,” Haji says, looking at Kaitlyn. “You are the ritual. You need to take control.”

  “I’m ready.”

  “Good. Sit down.” Haji reaches into a pouch on his hip, withdraws what looks like flour, and pours it into a sigil on the floor, one mirrored in the charm around his neck.

  John steps up to Kaitlyn. “Are you really going to do this after what happened? After Naida?”

  “Yes. I told you.” She takes his hand and squeezes it. “Are you with me?”

  “I’m in,” Brett says from across the room.

  “I guess that’s the answer, then,” John says “I won’t leave you alone.”

  Kaitlyn blinks, then turns away. “What do you need?” she asks Haji, who is sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of a wooden bowl. Inside he has placed three eggs and a sprig of sage.

  “Your blood.” He puts out one hand to Kaitlyn. In the other, he holds a knife with a curved blade.

  Kaitlyn holds out her hand without hesitation. Her sleeves hide the stitched-up mess of her forearms.

  “Hold on a minute,” Brett interrupts. “Is this wise? Her blood? Isn’t that… extreme?”

  “And Naida wanting to kill that rooster before wasn’t extreme?”

  “Yeah, but her blood? That’s, like, bordering on Satanism or something.”

  Haji gives him a distasteful once-over. “You just pray she won’t need to give her life.”

  “Hang on, what?” John says.

  “This is mental, Carly—Kaitlyn. It’s just… too much. Naida nearly died, and now your blood? I think maybe it’s asking too much.” Brett speaks quietly.

  “Just get out if you’re not going to help.” This utterance, delivered with sharp venom, comes from Ari, who steps off the wall and walks forward. “Cowards, all of you. Piss off and let us work. Or stay and actually help by shutting your gob-holes.”

  This silences all of them, but Brett is red in the face and his lips are a thin white line. John merely shrugs and folds his arms.

  In all the commotion, no one noticed Haji slice Kaitlyn’s palm or the blood trickling into the wooden bowl on top of the eggs and sage sprig.

  “It’s done.” Kaitlyn looks around. “Can we get on?”

  “Bloody hell,” Scott mutters, but backs off.

  “Keep going,” Ari says. “Everyone sit around the bowl.”

  Each of them complies, and silence falls.

  Haji cuts open his own hand with the already-bloodied blade. “Respect, Gorro, spirits, Olen. We weaken ourselves for you, we show you our good intentions. Accept this blood sacrifice and hear our bargain. Gingerroot for spice, beetroot for sweetness, tobacco leaf for pleasure, athair lus, the snakeroot, for connection.” He bows low after adding the items. “Hear us, great spirit of the Olen, hear us, Mother Karrah, Father Gorro. We call on your aid to help us find a lost soul. Bless us. Let us pass and bring our passengers with us. Here is the vessel.” He touches his bloodied palm to Kaitlyn’s head. “Let
us enter.”

  He leans forward and lights a rope of mixed dry herbs, and smoke begins to plume. “Close your eyes,” he instructs them.

  No movement is seen for five full minutes, at which time the motion-activated camera switches off.

  [END OF CLIP]

  94

  Diary of Kaitlyn Johnson

  Thursday, 27 January 2005, 11:59 pm

  Chapel Confessional

  I can still feel them, lingering in my mind. The scent of them, almost… their imprint.

  Haji said, “Close your eyes.”

  And then I felt a pull. I was dizzy, felt it in my throat, and then smelled the house fade in, growing up all around me from an unknown hell like dead creeper vines, blossoming with deadly blooms.

  I opened my eyes, and they were all there with me again. And I saw what knowing me had done to them. Brett’s pristine grace had been replaced with a bruising around the eyes, a lankness in the hair. Scott, once such a joker, looked around the house with hard eyes and a set mouth. John, once my escape, now seemed as much of a trap to me as the house, but how could I trust that? How could I trust my mind, which seems so much of a trick these days—a Dead House of a mind that even I can’t control? I couldn’t ask him to leave, though I wanted to. He was my John… and I am still terrified of him. The only constant, the only unchanged thing, was Ari, standing beside me, holding my hand.

  “This,” Haji said, “is Kaitlyn’s mind. Her self.”

  “I remember,” Brett breathed.

  “Let’s split up,” Haji suggested, taking control.

  “No,” I insisted, right away. “We won’t do that again. Scott with Ari, Brett with John, me with Haji. No one goes anywhere alone.”

  I said this, even though I knew the house was empty.

  Deathly

  Silently

  Absolutely

  Empty.

  Haji looked at me for a moment and conceded with a slow nod. “Very well. There is no way to keep time here. When you hear this”—he broke off, placed two fingers in his mouth, and blew out a shrieking whistle that echoed down every hall—“then come back here.”