Okay, maybe Dad was right. I needed to start waking up earlier.
Grabbing both muffins and a couple of grapes I found hiding beneath the cantaloupe, I headed over to Oscar and Lidia. “I’d kill for some bacon pancakes,” I announced, pulling out a chair. They jumped, startled, and I set my plate down. “Sorry, I thought you saw me come in.”
“No, we were just . . .” Blinking, Lidia smiled a little too cheerfully. “Just chatting. How’d you sleep?”
I shrugged. “Okay. How’s the episode coming?”
“Great!” Lidia chirped. “Jess didn’t want to use the footage of my seizure, but I convinced her.” She paused, toying with the locket around her neck. “So . . . we all read your blog post last night.”
“You did?” I glanced at Oscar, but he was staring blankly at his uneaten toast. “Wait, who’s we?”
“Everyone,” Lidia said. “Jess, Roland, Sam, Mi Jin. Thomas Cooper. And your dad, of course. That, um . . .” She squeezed her eyes closed for a second, as if she had a headache. “That photo of me was certainly interesting.”
I choked a little on a grape. “I should’ve asked,” I said, suddenly mortified. “I shouldn’t have just posted that without asking you first. I’m really sorry.”
Lidia waved dismissively. “No apologies necessary. But . . .” She coughed, and I flinched at how raspy it sounded. “But now that your blog is getting attention from fans of the show, we’re going to have to monitor it. Make sure you don’t publish anything . . . er, inappropriate.”
“Inappropriate? Like what?”
“Anything that could violate someone’s privacy, for example,” Lidia said. “I’ll be honest, Kat—I think it’s great that you’re blogging about the show. The fans seem to love it. But not everyone feels the same.”
“Who was upset about it?” I asked, then answered my own question. “Roland.”
Nodding, Lidia took a sip of coffee. “He’s pretty against having any sort of behind-the-scenes blog, especially one written by a kid. Jess felt the same. But I convinced them that the most important thing is how much the fans love it. In the end, they agreed with me . . . so long as you allow us to check your posts before you publish them, and make any changes we ask. We’ll need to monitor the comments, too—you’ve had some odd ones pop up.”
I sat back in my chair, chewing my lip. I hadn’t been planning to post about Roland and the host curse—not yet, not without proof. Still, the idea that I couldn’t post anything without his approval was irritating. I glanced at Oscar again, but he refused to look up, which just increased my annoyance. What was his deal this morning?
“Kat, it’s your blog,” Lidia said. “If you want to keep writing whatever you like without us monitoring, you can set your blog to private and just give your friends and family access. But if your blog is going to be part of the show, then we have to treat it that way. We don’t air any footage without approval from everyone on the crew. Same applies to a behind-the-scenes blog.”
I swallowed. As much as I hated to admit it, that was fair. “Okay,” I said. “I’ll show you my posts before I publish them.”
“Thank you.” She was still twirling the necklace around her fingers. “So . . . you really thought I was Sonja, huh?”
I nodded, my mouth full of stale blueberry muffin.
“I’ve been trying so hard to remember what happened, but . . .” Trailing off, Lidia sighed. Then she smiled at me. “Starting to believe, are you?”
“Er . . . I guess I’m keeping an open mind.” I hesitated, watching as Lidia twisted the necklace tighter and tighter around her trembling fingers. Her face was flushed, her eyes shiny. “Lidia, are you feeling okay?”
“Hmm?” Lidia blinked a few times, her hand falling still. “Oh, I’m still just trying to kick this cold. Nothing to worry about.” Yawning, she pushed her chair back and stretched. “All right, back to work. I think the others are in the conference room.”
She touched Oscar’s arm lightly, but he didn’t look up. For a brief second, a strangely familiar expression flickered across Lidia’s face. She’d left the breakfast room before I realized where I’d seen that look before.
It was exactly how Dad looked at me this morning when he’d tried to ask about my phone call with Mom and I ignored him.
I crammed the last of the muffin into my mouth, eyeing Oscar. “We saw an arcade on the boardwalk yesterday,” I said at last. Oscar lifted a shoulder, still staring at his toast. “Want to go check it out?” Another shrug. I hesitated, then pressed forward. “I was thinking we could find Jamie and Hailey and—”
“No, thanks,” Oscar said shortly. Tossing his napkin on the table, he got to his feet. “See you later.” And with that, he walked back out into the lobby.
I stared after him, mouth open. I hated to admit it, but him blowing me off kind of hurt my feelings. Although on second thought what did I expect? Oscar had been a jerk since we’d first met. Just because he’d acted like a seminormal human being last night when we were all watching movies didn’t make him a nice guy all of a sudden.
Beep! Beep! Beep!
Frowning, I pushed aside the pile of napkins in the middle of the table. A smartphone’s screen was lit up with a message. Alarm: TAKE YOUR MEDS!
Lidia’s reminder about her heart medicine. I stood quickly, swiping the alarm off.
I was halfway to the conference room before I realized that the phone was still lit up. The alarm message had disappeared, leaving the screen open to whatever Lidia had been reading earlier. I was about to close it when Oscar’s name caught my eye.
Dear Ms. Bettencourt,
In regard to your brother, Oscar Bettencourt Sr., and his request for parole: After careful review during yesterday’s hearing, we regret to inform you parole has been denied. We will notify you when the date for his next annual hearing has been set.
Sincerely,
Grace Fletcher
Lafferty Federal Correctional Institution
For a few seconds, I just stared at the screen. Then guilt flooded through me as I realized I was reading what was obviously a very private e-mail. I pressed the button on the smartphone, and the screen went black. But I could still see the words in my mind, and with a slow, dawning horror, I realized what they meant.
Oscar’s father was in prison. And he apparently wasn’t getting out anytime soon.
Still staring at the screen, I walked around the corner and ran straight into Sam.
“Oh, sorry!” My voice was all high and weird. But Sam seemed preoccupied, as usual.
“Have you seen Lidia?” he asked, glancing around the lobby.
I tried to sound casual. “Conference room. She left her phone at breakfast. I was just bringing it to her.”
Sam faced me, his blue gaze suddenly intense. “You thought she was Sonja.”
My mouth went dry. “Oh . . . You saw my blog post?”
“Post?” Sam frowned. “Oh, yes—Lidia showed us. But when we were in the tunnels, you called her Sonja.”
“Yeah, but—”
“You weren’t hallucinating.”
I stared at Sam silently for a moment. “How do you know?” I whispered.
“People always doubt their first paranormal experience . . . and second, and third,” he said. “You think if you tell someone, they’ll think you’re crazy, so you convince yourself it was a trick of the light, or a concussion, or some other excuse. When you start to doubt—that’s the real trick. You convince yourself of some other explanation. You trick yourself out of believing. But your eyes didn’t lie.”
I just stood there, unable to look away. For the first time, I really, truly understood why people loved Sam Sumners, and it had nothing to do with his looks. His expression was open and earnest, and his airy, flaky demeanor had vanished—he spoke with such conviction, I found myself nodding along.
“I believe you, Kat,” Sam said simply. “You saw Sonja. You saw her leave Lidia’s body.”
Swallowing hard, I nodded again. “That other ghost helped her,” I said. “The one in the photo. A boy, I think.”
Sam’s lips curved up in a small smile. “Yes, him. He likes you, I think.”
“What?” I felt my face heat up. “Who is he?”
“A friend of the show.” Sam laughed when I rolled my eyes. “No, really. He’s always with us. But I’ve never been able to communicate with him—he doesn’t like me.” He paused, looking thoughtful. “Ghost children always prefer other children to adults, though. They trust other children. That’s why he’s been reaching out to you.”
“He tried on my first day in Rotterdam.” I couldn’t believe I was saying this out loud. But something about Sam made me want to talk about it. “When I used the laptop, there was a blank document open, but it printed out with a message: Keep her away from the medium.”
Sam sighed deeply, his eyes glazing over. “Ah.”
“Do you know what it means?” I asked hesitantly.
After a moment, Sam nodded. “Yes. I think I might.”
I waited, then cleared my throat. “Well? Who does he want you to stay away from?”
Down the hall, the doors to the conference room opened. Dad and Jess exited first, laughing and chatting. Roland, Lidia, and Mi Jin followed, all carrying armfuls of folders and binders. They headed down the hall toward the back exit. Glancing over his shoulder, Roland saw Sam and me.
“We’re going back to that café Jess found,” he called to Sam. “Coming?” His eyes flickered to me, and I stared back defiantly.
“I’ll be right there,” Sam replied. I waited until Roland had turned back around before touching Sam’s arm.
“Who does he want you to stay away from?” I repeated. Sam blinked, his gaze sliding back over to the rest of the crew.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said quietly. “I’m already trying to keep my distance.”
He gave me a small smile before wandering down the hall after the others. It was only after the exit doors closed behind them that I remembered Lidia’s phone was still in my hand.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
THE SECRET OF THE DEAD AIR
Post: The Eternal Prison
The day after tomorrow, we’re heading to Brussels to visit Daems Penitentiary, which is a few miles (er, kilometers) outside the city. Out in the middle of nowhere, according to Dad. He’s been doing lots of research to prepare for his interviews, and the prison has a history pretty much as creepy as Crimptown. In 1912, there was a massive escape attempt that ended really gruesomely.
It started with one prisoner, who managed to steal a key from a guard during lunch. That night, he unlocked his door and quietly crept from cell to cell. He told each prisoner to wait until midnight, then all break out of their cells at the same time. That way, the guards would be overwhelmed and more of them would be able to escape. He promised he’d hide in the tower and deactivate the electric fence that surrounded the courtyard. The prisoners all agreed to his plan. So the first prisoner unlocked all the cells, but left their doors closed. Then he crept up to the tower, and everyone waited.
At midnight, chaos erupted. The prisoners all burst out of their cells and started running out into the courtyard for the fence. The first prisoner threw the switch and turned the fence off, then hurried downstairs to make his escape.
A few prisoners were killed, but some guards were, too. There weren’t enough guards left to stop most of the prisoners from escaping. All around the courtyard, men were climbing the fence. They were almost free.
But one guard had noticed the first prisoner fleeing the tower, and realized he’d deactivated the fence. So the guard ran up the tower and flipped the switch back on.
Ninety-four men were electrocuted. They fell from the fence, dead before they hit the ground.
The prison was abandoned after that. Dad said people are so superstitious about it that after the bodies were taken away, the city could never get anyone to buy the property, or even set foot on it to clean it up. The local legend is that every night at midnight, the ghosts of those ninety-four men roam the courtyard and try to escape. But they never make it past the fence. Locals call it la Prison Éternelle—the Eternal Prison.
Jamie finished reading my post out loud and sat back in his chair.
“Wicked,” Hailey announced, and I grinned.
“Yeah?”
She nodded, still studying the pictures on the screen. “Yeah.”
“It’s great,” Jamie agreed. “These photos are really cool, too.”
“Jess found those for me,” I told him. Jess and Dad had read my post last night before I’d published it. After what Lidia had told me, I’d kind of expected Jess to be annoyed by the whole thing. But she’d actually seemed impressed. She’d even said my blog reminded her of an article Dad had written for their college newspaper about local urban legends.
Hailey sighed. “This episode is going to be so creepy. I wish we could come.”
“Me too,” I said, and I meant it. I’d barely known the Coopers for a week, but I was really going to miss them. Especially with Oscar being so . . .
Well, antisocial would be the nicest way to put it. Not that I blamed him one bit.
I hadn’t told Oscar what I’d learned about his father. I felt awful about invading his and Lidia’s privacy, even though it was by accident. And every time someone said prison or prisoner—which was, like, a hundred times a day, since they were all preparing for the next episode—I cringed.
Oscar never flinched. But then, he’d been spending a pretty decent amount of time holed up in his hotel room. Except for yesterday, when, after a lengthy video chat with Trish and Mark, I’d found Oscar in Mi Jin’s room, where they’d been paired up against Jamie and Hailey in what was apparently a pretty epic Mario Kart battle. Oscar had been laughing and everything, but his eyes had still looked funny. Pink and a little too dry, like he’d been holding back tears for so long, he didn’t even have to try anymore.
“Hellooo?”
Blinking, I realized Hailey was waving her phone in front of my face. “Sorry, what?”
“Laser tag!” she said excitedly. “That giant arcade we saw the other day on the waterfront has it. Dad just texted—he said he’ll be ready to leave in fifteen minutes. You’re still coming, right?”
I smiled. “Yeah. Is, um . . . is Oscar coming, too?”
“We told him about it yesterday,” Jamie replied, standing up and stretching his arms. “I think he’s in his room—I’ll see if he still wants to go.”
After Jamie left, I clicked over to the P2P forums to see if there were any more comments about the picture of Lidia. But the most recent thread update pushed all thoughts of the photo from my mind.
P2P FAN FORUMS
Do you believe? Think again.
Anonymous
I said I’d prove this show is a fraud, so here we go. P2P claims to be the most haunted show on television, starting back with the dead air during its first episode. What really happened in the lighthouse? As it turns out, it was just a botched attempt at tricking hapless viewers. Don’t believe me? Watch this little clip and see for yourself . . .
“It’s the same one,” I breathed, clicking the link to the video. “I bet it’s the same one . . .”
“The same one as what?” Hailey asked eagerly, but the video was already playing.
And sure enough, there were Sam, Lidia, and Emily seated around the same small table, holding hands, the single dim bulb dangling over their heads. Lidia shivered with anticipation, while Sam looked perfectly peaceful. Emily gazed at Sam in a worshipful way that hovered between laughable and creepy.
Hailey let out a low hiss. “This is the one you were talking about. The video that randomly started pla
ying, then all the lights went out, right?”
“Yeah.” I glanced around my room. It was hard to feel creeped out with all the sunshine streaming in through the windows, but my arms and neck still prickled. “This is the scene . . . but it’s not the same video. Look.”
I pointed at the screen. A camera set up on a tripod in front of the table was just barely in the shot, capturing the video I’d seen. This camera sat at an odd, high angle, almost like it was hidden. And the quality wasn’t nearly as good for the video or audio. In fact, I was pretty sure it had been taken with a phone.
“Close your eyes,” Sam said softly.
“Are you sensing a presence?” Emily whispered loudly, her gaze still locked on Sam.
Hailey snorted. “I can’t stand her. Bernice was the best host. I mean,” she added quickly, “besides your dad.”
I smiled without taking my eyes off the screen. “His first episode hasn’t even aired yet.”
“Well, that’s true.”
The lightbulb flickered and I leaned forward. “Here we go. Watch this . . .”
Emily wiggled in her chair. “Sam, I think—”
Lidia’s eyes flew open . . . and she stared right into the hidden camera. Right at us.
Goose bumps broke out on my arms. Hailey gasped, recoiling a little. The lightbulb exploded, plunging the scene into darkness, and Emily shrieked. Shadows moved across the screen as Sam and Emily bumped into one another, knocking over chairs. Behind them, the door flew open. Light from the hallway filled the small room, and Roland stood framed in the doorway.
“Oh no, poor Lidia,” Hailey murmured, and I shook my head in disbelief. Lidia was sprawled facedown on the table, completely unconscious. Sam reached for her, but Roland beat him to it.
“Jess, hurry!” he yelled over his shoulder. “Lidia? Lidia, can you hear me?” Gently, Roland rolled her back into her chair, her glasses hanging askew. He took them off and placed them on the table, checking Lidia’s pulse with his other hand. Her eyelids fluttered open, and she sucked in a deep breath.
Dead Air Page 13
