by Ron Ripley
“Fair enough,” Anne said, smiling. “So, think you could pour me a cup of coffee?”
“Sure,” Brian said, chuckling. He opened the Thermos and poured out some of the dark brew into each cup. Steam curled up, and the smell of the hot liquid was sublime. Brian handed her drink to her and settled back to enjoy his own. After a few moments, he asked, “What were you doing before this for work?”
“I was working in an antique store. High-end place,” Anne answered. “Out in Milford. I’m still trying to decide if I want to continue on with a master’s program or get a full-time job.”
“What would you study?” Brian asked.
“Psychology,” she said. “I’d like to be a therapist, but I’m not one hundred percent certain. And if I’m not completely sure, then I don’t want to waste the time or money, you know?”
Brian nodded. “I do.”
He started to take another drink and stopped.
Behind Anne, at the edge of the camping light’s reach, a child stood in the shadow and watched them.
“What’s wrong?” Anne asked softly.
“There’s a child here,” Brian answered. “Don’t turn around.”
“You can see it?” Anne whispered.
Brian nodded. “Do me a favor. The camera next to you on the desk, reach over slowly and turn it on.”
Anne did so.
Brian stretched out slightly, keyed the laptop and brought up the camera Anne had just powered up. When the video feed was live, Brian turned the computer to face Anne.
“Do you see the child?” he asked her softly.
“No,” she answered after a moment. “I don’t see anything. You do?”
“Yes,” Brian said. He looked at Anne. “I think it’s a little boy. Maybe ten or so. He’s just watching us.”
“How can you see him?” Anne asked. “Is the camera not picking him up?”
“The camera is,” Brian said. “Or I can still see him through the camera.”
“How?” Anne said. “How can you see him and I can’t?”
“I hit my head yesterday,” Brian said after a moment. “And ever since, I’ve seen the dead.”
Chapter 27: Ian at Middlebury
Since the end of August, Ian Harris had waited and watched.
Middlebury Sanitarium was his next target. He needed to get in and get a good look at the architecture of some of the smaller buildings. A few of the urban spelunking sites had showed some excellent mantels and built-ins, but Ian specialized in ceiling medallions and light fixtures.
And right before August rolled into September, someone had posted pictures of a house in Middlebury Sanitarium. For over a week Ian had researched the place and was finally able to identify the house.
It was at the back of the center of the campus, near the cemetery. The head nurse’s house.
Ian needed to get the rhythm of the place. And, quite frankly, he had other houses and buildings to work through as well. Ian did more than well for himself selling items via the Darknet. No messy middle-men, no investigators who poked their noses into the indoor flea markets.
No, Ian was a choirboy compared to some of the crimes committed through the anonymity of the Darknet. The local, state and federal cops had a lot more to worry about than Ian moving stolen architectural pieces.
And everything was paid for in Bitcoin, mailed out courtesy of the USPS to anonymous post office boxes.
Plus, and here was the best part, Ian was able to enjoy the thrill of the hunt. He loved to track the movements of the rent-a-cops, plan ways into and out of the buildings. The thrill he had felt as a child when he would dress all in black and sneak into neighbors’ houses to see what they had in their basements or attics.
He was able to enjoy the same thrill when sneaking into an abandoned house. Especially in a place under watch.
Or, Ian chuckled, theoretically under watch.
He wasn’t sure exactly how much the old, third shift security guard actually saw. The man usually smoked and read between hourly strolls around the sanitarium.
Ian had caught sight of another man watching the place, but he recognized him as a spelunker. The man didn’t even know the right way to get around the place.
But Ian did.
Ian knew about the tunnels. He would be able to move from house to house once he was in.
He smiled to himself and took his backpack off of the passenger seat of his non-descript, blue Toyota Camry. He quickly double checked his equipment. A lock-pick set, headlamp with a red lens, a Dremel tool adjusted to run on a battery, and a small screwdriver set.
Everything he needed to strip out his next month’s salary from the house.
And if the guard stayed out of the houses, Ian could press his luck and slip into the other houses as well. Middlebury Sanitarium could prove to be a goldmine.
Ian needed to be patient. He needed to move carefully. He hadn’t reached the age of thirty as a professional thief, without having done any jail time, by being careless.
Caution was the watchword as far as Ian was concerned.
Ian took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and then he zipped the backpack closed and got out of the car. He put the pack on, shut the door gently, and started down the road. He kept close to the brick wall which surrounded the Sanitarium, saw the spot where the boughs of an evergreen hung low and heavy with snow, and slipped over the wall.
Ian hunkered down in the snow and watched the guardhouse.
The old man stepped out of the small building, stretched, and then walked away. Pipe smoke curled up and trailed behind the man and Ian smiled. Ian waited patiently until the guard was no longer visible.
Ian stood up quietly and moved quickly through the snow. He knew exactly where the head nurse’s house was. He had his bearings and felt comfortable in the bright light of the full moon. Ian had nothing to worry about. He needed only to get to the house, to get inside, to get what he could carry, and get back to the car.
The snow from the previous storm covered the ground. The snow was light and easy to walk through. Ian wanted to whistle but knew he couldn’t.
The sound would carry too far.
Within a few minutes, he saw the house. He recognized it from the images he had studied during the preparation phase.
He knew there was a backdoor, and he moved to the left of the building toward it. The cemetery was to his left, and the land was quiet.
Far quieter than it should be.
The tracks of some large animal also cut between the cemetery and the house, and the prints were fresh. Ian had never hunted, had never wanted to spend so much time in the woods, no matter how often his father and uncles had tried to get him to.
Ian pushed the thoughts away as he rounded the corner of the house. The backdoor was there, exactly where it was supposed to be, and Ian hurried to it. He took hold of the knob, twisted carefully and was pleasantly surprised to find it unlocked.
He grinned as he opened the door and slipped into the building. He paused, shed his backpack and took out his headlamp and his tools. The sconces on either side of the door were stunning, and Ian sighed happily.
Twenty minutes. Twenty minutes tops, he told himself. He would be able to get a good supply of items within fifteen, and then another five to tidy up.
Ian straightened up.
Something had scratched at the pantry door.
He looked at the door, the red of his light illuminated it and the cut-glass doorknob.
I should take it, too, he told himself.
The knob turned to the left, and then to the right. Ever so slowly it continued, back and forth. Ian watched it, both horrified and fascinated.
Finally, the knob moved far enough to the left, and a soft ‘click’ sounded.
The door opened and swung in a wide arc. It came to a stop right before the wall, and the darkness beyond swallowed the red light and beckoned him forward.
Ian raised a foot and then he forced it back to the floor.
Run
, a voice said urgently. Run.
He couldn’t.
He had to see what was in the pantry.
“Do you like dogs?” a woman asked. “I like dogs. Do you like dogs?”
Ian nodded, and the beam of his light bobbed up and down.
“We’re so glad,” the woman said happily.
And the largest dog Ian had ever seen launched itself out of the pantry.
He was knocked backward and slid across the floor, the dog on top of him. He could smell its breath as the dog opened its mouth and bit down on either side of his face.
Ian screamed.
Chapter 28: A Silence Broken
Ken was halfway to the library when he heard the scream.
It came from behind.
Ken turned around and headed back towards the center of the campus. He paused every few steps and listened, yet nothing sounded off again. When he reached the guardhouse, he came to a stop and stared.
The lights were on at Isabella’s.
The door was open.
His heart started to beat rapidly and his mouth dried out.
Ken hadn’t seen her in decades.
The door was open.
He had no choice.
With his head slightly bent, Ken walked toward Isabella’s house.
Chapter 29: The Children
Brian watched the child, and the child watched Brian. Soon a second little boy joined the first and Brian noticed they were twins. Fair haired and dressed nightshirts. They looked at him with a mixture of curiosity and anger.
Anne still had her back to them, and Brian could see she was uncomfortable.
“Are they still there?” she asked, her voice low.
“Yes,” Brian answered.
“What are they doing?”
“Just watching me,” he said.
A third child appeared. A girl who was taller and thinner than the other two boys. Her skin was slightly darker, her brown hair pulled back and tied off with a ribbon of blue. She too wore a nightshirt.
The smell of lilacs drifted through the room, and something rattled on the second floor.
Anne leaned forward and clicked the laptop’s mouse.
The screen divided itself into four. Three of the four blocks showed the Dr. Le Grande Psychology Room while the fourth remained focused on the area behind Anne. In the new images books slowly migrated off of the shelves one at a time to fall onto the floor.
A child’s laughter rang out, and footsteps raced along the upper hall.
Anne stiffened. “I heard someone.”
Brian smiled. “You did. More than one.”
Someone was behind the shelves upstairs. Brian caught a glimpse of black hair behind the books.
“How many are there now?” Anne asked.
“At least one upstairs in the room, probably another in the hall. Three, no four down here,” Brian said as another girl, slightly older than the twins but younger than the first girl appeared.
“Damn.”
Brian nodded.
The older girl stepped forward into the light. She looked at Brian. Then she walked a little closer.
“You see us,” the girl said.
“I do,” Brian answered.
Anne looked at him, a confused expression on her face. He shook his head slightly, and she remained quiet.
“Does the lady?” the girl asked.
Brian shook his head.
“You know Ken?” the girl said.
Brian took a deep breath and answered, “I do.”
The girl frowned. “I don’t like Ken. None of us like Ken.”
“Why?”
“Because the King likes him,” the girl said sharply. “And because she likes him.”
“Who’s the King?” Brian asked. “Who is ‘she’?”
“She is Isabella,” the girl said angrily. “Foul, wretched woman. Eater of the dead. And He, well, He is Septimus Rex. The King of Middlebury Sanitarium. King of the Dead. Let us hope you never meet Him.”
“It sounds more and more like I really don’t want to,” Brian said.
“You have to leave,” the girl said.
“I will, soon,” Brian said.
“No,” the girl said fiercely. “You have to leave. He’s coming. He doesn’t want you here.”
“Who?” Brian asked.
“The King,” she said, spitting out the title. “He is coming, and Hell's coming with Him.”
“Brian,” Anne said softly, “did it just get really cold in here?”
Brian was about to answer ‘no’ when he realized it had.
It was terribly cold. His breath suddenly exploded into a stream of white as it exited his mouth.
The girl stepped back and looked nervously around her. The other children vanished. Somewhere a window shattered.
“Get out,” the girl hissed. “Get out now.”
Brian stood up, and Anne did the same a heartbeat later.
“What’s wrong?” Anne asked. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” Brian said. More windows broke in the library. “But they want us to leave.”
“The kids?” Anne asked, pulling on her coat and snatching up her gloves and hat.
“Yup,” he said. He glanced up, but the girl was gone too.
Beyond the library’s walls, the wind suddenly picked up. It battered the building and screamed with an ungodly rage.
A book hurtled down the stairs flew across the floor and struck Brian full in the face. He staggered, fell, and then sprawled out on the floor.
“Take it!” someone shrieked.
Anne snatched up the book and offered her hand to Brian. With his head fuzzy and pulsing Brian took her hand and got to his feet.
Hand in hand they ran for the door.
Chapter 30: An Unwanted Interview
Ken walked into Isabella’s house and felt his stomach twist nervously.
The door clicked shut behind him, and he found himself once more in the parlor.
A small fire burned cheerfully in the hearth and an oil lamp’s flame flickered by the grand chair Isabella sat in.
She wore the same dress he had seen upon her all those decades before, and she flashed him a smile of the same, deadly teeth. She held a piece of needlework in a hoop in her hands and set it down on her lap. From the table at her side, she lifted a glass goblet filled with a dark fluid and sipped from it. When she returned it to its place, her lips were a dark red.
From her sleeve, she drew forth a lace handkerchief, dabbed delicately at her mouth, and then she tucked it away again.
“Kenneth,” she said happily. “What a pleasure. Will you sit?”
“Of course, Isabella,” he said politely. He removed his hat and sat in the chair across from her. He felt much as he had the first time they had met.
“You’ve been having a rather exciting time these past few days,” she said with a wicked smile.
“A little too exciting,” Ken said.
She laughed pleasantly. “Very true. The King has returned.”
Ken could only nod.
“It is a thrilling moment in history, Kenneth,” she said confidentially. “He is so looking forward to this time. Do you know this?”
“Yes, Isabella,” Ken said, trying to repress a shiver.
“Oh Kenneth,” she said with a sigh. “You need fear nothing. He is pleased with you. Your loyalty these long years. He shall reward you.”
Ken felt cold at the mere thought of seeing the King again let alone receiving a reward of some sort.
“Who are these guests of ours, Kenneth?” Isabella asked in a soft voice.
“People hired to see if the Sanitarium is haunted,” Ken replied.
“How curious,” Isabella said. “Do they not trust the men whom they have hired to guard this place?”
Ken shook his head.
Isabella frowned. “This shall not please the King.”
Ken swallowed nervously.
“Where are they now?” Isabella ask
ed, her voice growing stern.
“In the library,” Ken answered.
“With the children?” she said. “Was your decision a wise one, Kenneth?”
“Yes,” Ken said, looking at her. “The children dislike me. They don’t care about others.”
“Ah, yes,” Isabella said as she nodded. “I had forgotten their particular feud with you. Why is it so?”
“Because I am the King’s Watchman.”
“Yes,” Isabella whispered, “you are.”
Someone groaned in the basement, and Ken jumped.
Isabella chuckled and asked, “Did you forget they were there, Kenneth?”
He nodded.
“Well, dear Kenneth, they are still there. Quiet of late. Do you know why?”
Ken was afraid to ask, but he felt as though he had to.
“Why, Isabella?”
“The rats,” she said, smiling. “I’ve added more rats. Mostly to eat their lips and teeth. As enjoyable as screams and howls and gibberish can be, there are moments when even I tire of it.”
“Oh.”
Isabella tilted her head slightly. “I think, my dear Kenneth, something is taking place outside.”
“Yes,” Ken said, happy for the distraction. “I thought I heard something a little while ago.”
“The scream?” she asked.
“Yes.”
She shook her head. “You needn’t worry about it. Some thief. Eleanor introduced him to the Dog.”
Ken fought to control the bile which rose in his throat.
“No,” Isabella continued, “I mean the sound of glass breaking. I think it’s coming from the library.”
Ken stiffened, but he didn’t rise up from the chair.
Isabella looked at him and then clapped her hands together happily. “You are such a delight, Kenneth! Go. Go to our guests and see what it is which has disrupted the silence of our home.”
Ken stood up and bowed to her. “Thank you, Isabella.”
“Thank you, Kenneth,” she said with a sigh as she took up her needlepoint. “It’s a shame the King has marked you for His own. I would have loved to have had you with me these long years.”
