“What about my family?” Marisol interrupted. “My parents came over here from Puerto Rico. But you said my great-great grandfather was one of the town founders.”
“He was,” Freddy said. “His name was Jesús Rafael Carrasquillo. A moderately wealthy man in Spain, it was his dream to expand the family’s fortune in the new lands. And he did. So much so that in 1925, his only son sold the business and moved to Cuba to live out the rest of his days in luxury.”
“I never heard of him. What happened to him? Where did this so-called fortune go?”
Freddy shrugged. “Like so many, he lost everything in La Revolución, when Castro took over. He escaped with his wife and children to Puerto Rico. Changed his name to Ortiz.”
“Ortiz? That’s my mother’s maiden name!”
“Yes. And many years later, she met your father and they returned to Rocky Point, probably never knowing your family’s true history.”
“So our families are tied together with the town’s history. What does it have to do with...” Cory stopped, not sure of what word to use. Zombies? Monsters? Ghosts? They still had no idea what Alou knew and didn’t know.
“The walking dead?” Freddy answered Cory’s question, and the unspoken ones as well. “The things that possess them?”
“You’ve seen them?” asked Marisol.
He shook his head. “No, I have not. But my great-grandfather did, in 1922. He wrote it down.”
“That was when Grover Lillian killed himself,” Cory said.
“Sí. Until then, the Shadows were rare. After Lillian’s experiments, though, they began to appear more often. Scaring people. But back then people believed in spirits. Took precautions. Our grandparents’ parents, they did what they had to. Ended the problem before it grew too large. And in 1947, our abuelos did it again. The town was safe until...”
“Until we woke them up in the cemetery,” Cory finished.
“I believe so, yes. But it would have happened again, sooner or later. Whenever there are violent deaths, the Shadows appear.”
“Violent deaths happen all the time, all over the world. Why do the...Shadows...appear in Rocky Point?”
Freddy tapped a chubby finger against his temple. “It is not just the deaths, but the concentration of so many in one area. The experiments. The fires. All in the same place. All that negative energy, it is like fertilizer to seeds.”
“Wait a minute!” Cory jumped up, ran for his notebooks. Something had been tickling the back of his brain for several minutes, something Freddy had mentioned.
Shadows. Spirits. He scrolled through the pages. Something Todd had told them...Yes!
“Here it is!” He held up a piece of paper with notes scribbled across it.
“What is it?” Marisol took it from him, frowned, and handed it back. “I can’t read that chicken scratch.”
“Todd gave me a lot of his old research to read through, so I could kind of catch up on everything he and John had found. Listen to this:
“Shadow people - also known as Shadow beings or Shades - are a rare supernatural phenomenon. The earliest reports date back to ancient Sumerian descriptions of certain demons. Most accounts describe the shadow beings as black humanoid silhouettes with red or yellow eyes. They are usually vaporous or distorted.”
“Holy shit!” Marisol practically shouted. “That’s exactly what we saw. Why didn’t Todd pay more attention to this?”
“Because of the other part of the description,” Cory said. “Shadow beings are believed to be the result of the intense negative psychic energy created in areas where traumatic or evil events have occurred, such as mass murders or battlefields. The shadow beings are the mutated souls of the dead, who thrive on fear or other negative emotions.”
Cory put the paper down. “We thought it was something we did. But we didn’t know the history of the town. We didn’t create the Shadows, we just woke them up again.”
Freddy nodded. “If ever there was a place filled with negative energy, it is that area between the cemetery and Wood Hill Sanitarium.”
“What else does it say?” Marisol asked.
“Let’s see. Individually, Shadows or Shades, are incapable of doing anything more than frightening people. But when there are several of them in a concentrated area, they will be more powerful and can gain the ability to possess a human body by force. Their very presence can create conditions that are favorable for the creation of more Shadows through any type of violent death.”
“They multiply like bacteria,” Freddy said. “Each time they kill someone, they add to their own numbers.”
“There’s more.” Cory continued reading. “Certain places are believed to be more hospitable to the formation of Shades, whether because of magnetic energies or something we don’t yet know about. That’s why certain murder scenes and buildings have the reputation for being haunted, while others don’t.”
“That would explain much.” Freddy picked at his fingernails as he spoke. “Each time members of our family fought the Shadows it diminished their numbers enough so that the remaining ones lost the power to possess people and went into hiding. They stayed harmless until another event occurred...”
“Another event like a fire, or a scientist experimenting on people,” Cory finished.
“All those bodies,” Marisol said. “The ones they buried beneath the sanitarium. That would be a concentrated dose of negative energy for sure.”
Cory tossed the paper onto the table. “It wasn’t us who triggered the Shadows this time, it was what happened at Wood Hill.”
“We need to tell Todd and John about this.”
“Wait.” Freddy held up a hand. “Do your notes say anything about how to stop them?”
Cory smiled. For the first time in days, he felt as if Fate was finally lending them a hand. Or at least removing some of the roadblocks in their path. “Yes. Holy water and Eucharistic wafers can be used to bless a room or home and even destroy the Shades. Blessed wine works too. And you can prevent one from possessing you by letting go of fear and thinking positive thoughts. Visualize a holy light around you, a light that denies access to your person by evil beings.”
“We’ve seen how Holy water kills them,” Marisol said. “At least the Shadow forms.”
“Let’s go to the hospital.” Cory stuffed the paper in his pocket. “This might be just the answer we’ve been looking for.”
“Cory. Marisol.”
They paused and looked at Freddy. He was tapping his watch. “It’s not even nine o’clock yet. You both look like mierda. Get some sleep. Eat something. Then go to the hospital. After you speak with Mr. Randolph, call me.”
Marisol started to object but Cory stopped her.
“He’s right. We’re exhausted. John needs his rest. And Todd needs to be with his mother right now. A few hours isn’t going to make a difference, except to help us think clearer.”
As they walked Freddy to the door and said goodbye, they had no idea that Cory was both right and wrong.
Terribly wrong.
Chapter 4
By the time Cory and Marisol arrived at the hospital it was close to three in the afternoon. Cory had set his phone alarm for eleven but they’d both slept through it; had, in fact, only woken up when Marisol’s neighbor had started up a hedge trimmer right outside their bedroom window.
“Who do we see first?” Marisol asked as they entered the welcome coolness of the hospital’s main entrance. Outside, the temperature was a scorching ninety-five with close to a hundred percent humidity. According to the weather report the heat wave showed no signs of breaking for the next few days.
Cory wiped sweat from his forehead. Despite the heat, he’d dressed business casual - tan pants, Italian loafers, a short-sleeve button-down - in case they had to handle any red tape. Marisol wore a reasonably conservative skirt and blouse, neither of which did anything to hide her curves but at the same time didn’t draw undue attention to her assets.
“Let’s check on Tod
d. Then maybe he’ll come with us to see John.”
A stop at the reception desk revealed that Todd’s mother had been moved to a semi-private room in Critical Care, one step down from ICU. The woman behind the desk didn’t want to let them up, since they weren’t relatives, but she acquiesced when Cory informed her he was the Randolph’s lawyer, leaving Cory thankful he hadn’t worn the shorts and t-shirt he’d originally intended.
The poorly-hidden aroma of sickness and death tainted the air of the Critical Care ward, an odor all the pine and lemon-scented cleaning agents in the world couldn’t eliminate. Cory found himself grimacing as he pushed the red button that swung the large doors open. He’d hated hospitals ever since his parents’ accident. His father had died instantly in the crash but his mother had hung on for a day in ICU before perishing.
Although he hadn’t spent much time in the hospital with her, it had been more than enough to leave an indelible sensory memory in his brain, one that had led him to avoid hospitals as much as possible ever since.
And now here I am for the third time in less than two days. I hope this doesn’t become habitual.
When they arrived at Todd’s mother’s room the door was open. Marisol peeked in first. They’d already decided that if Todd was asleep or the other occupant had visitors, they’d postpone their visit.
“The other bed is empty,” Marisol whispered to Cory. “Todd’s reading a book.”
Cory nodded. He knocked on the door and stepped into the room. “Todd? Is it okay if we come in?”
Todd glanced up from his book, which Cory noticed was a Bible. His face was haggard and pale, with dark half-moons under his eyes. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in days. When he spoke, his voice was as tired as his face.
“Sure. Come in. Thank you for stopping by.”
Marisol placed a small bouquet of flowers on the nightstand. “How is she doing?”
Todd shook his head. “No change. They say she could stay this way for weeks or go in hours. It’s up to her now.”
There was a moment of silence following Todd’s statement. Marisol chewed at a fingernail, obviously remembering how he’d been so brusque at her last attempt to comfort him. For his part, Cory didn’t know what to say that would do any good. Gee, that sucks. I’m sorry to hear your mother’s dying.
Finally, Marisol broke the quiet just as it got too uncomfortable. “Todd, is there anything we can do?”
He turned away from them, took his mother’s limp hand in his. “You can leave us alone. I don’t blame you for this, regardless of what I said last night. I blame myself. For getting so caught up I forgot about the one person who always loved me. For starting all this shit back in high school. For not being the person my father wanted me to be.”
“Todd, it’s not—”
“Think about it Cory,” Todd said, still not looking at them. “If I’d followed my father’s footsteps, believed in God instead of rebelling against the Church, I’d have never been hanging out in that crypt, never brought any of you to it, never decided to try that damned game. None of this, not high school, not now, would have ever happened.”
“Actually, that’s not true.” Cory hoped his words would somehow sink in. “We found out what those things are, why they’re here. It’s this town and all the bad things that have happened. Our families...somehow, it’s always been our families that pushed the evil back underground. If we hadn’t played with that Ouija board, something else would have woken the Shades up sooner or later. And they’re back now because of what happened at Wood Hill, not because of us.”
Todd slowly turned his head. “Did you say Shades? I remember reading something about them.”
“You found the answer,” Marisol said. “It was in your notes but none of us caught it. Freddy Alou filled in the missing pieces for us.”
“That’s why we need you now.” Cory took a step closer to the bed. “Your research had the answers for how to stop the Shades. Kill them forever. But we can’t do it alone. There are too many of them. We need you. We need your faith.”
Todd stared at him for so long Cory thought he might actually give in and rejoin them. Eventually though, he turned his gaze back to his mother’s motionless body.
“I’m sorry, I can’t. I wasn’t there when she needed me. I won’t make that mistake again. I’m not leaving her side until...until she either wakes up or passes on.”
“Todd...” Marisol began, but he cut her off.
“I said no. Now, please leave.”
For a moment the only sounds in the room were the mechanical inhalations and exhalations of the equipment keeping Todd’s mother alive. Then Cory allowed himself a long sigh.
“All right. We understand. Just know this: it’s not your fault. None of it. Not the town, not your mother. And if you need anything you know we’re here for you.”
Without waiting for a goodbye, he took Marisol’s hand and led her to the door.
“Let’s hope we have better luck with John,” Cory said while they waited for the elevator.
As it turned out, they didn’t. Although more than willing to help, John was still not cleared to leave the hospital.
“One more night,” he told them, after showing them the angry red line of stitches just to the left of his naval. “The doctors want to make sure there’s no infection. Can you hold off for another couple of days?”
“We’ll have to,” Cory said. “There’s no way Marisol and I can do this alone, even if Freddy helps us...we’re still way outnumbered.”
“Can you talk to Travers?” John asked. “He knows the truth now. That would make five of us.”
“I’ll sure as hell try.” Cory gave John’s shoulder a soft squeeze. “Get some rest. We’ll be back tomorrow to get you.”
Marisol gave John a quick kiss on the cheek and they left him with a pile of magazines and newspapers.
“Now what?” she asked.
“Now I talk to Chief Travers.”
“And then?”
He shrugged. “And then we start making plans.”
Although it wasn’t what she wanted to hear or what he wanted to say, it was the best he could do.
Chapter 5
For the first time in all his years as Police Chief, Nick Travers had spent an entire workday without stepping foot in the police station. Between the missing police officers and the out-of-control crime in Rocky Point, he’d been forced to ask for assistance from the Sheriff’s department to cover shifts. Unfortunately, there was only so much money in the budget for ‘special circumstances,’ so he’d had to take on field duties in an effort to minimize costs. Which meant, of course, that he’d be working more nights trying to catch up with paperwork.
All of which made Nick Travers an angry man as he did yet another pass through the Lowlands.
The radio crackled to life. “Chief?”
“What now?”
“Got that lawyer friend of yours, Miles, in here. He’s asking to speak with you. Says it’s important.”
An involuntary shudder ran through Travers. He’d done his best to avoid thinking about what had happened under the cemetery. There was no explanation for what he’d seen, although his mind was trying to steer him towards druggies and hallucinogenic chemicals as it attempted to rationalize the events of the previous night.
And now Miles wanted to talk to him, no doubt to convey some supernatural enlightenment.
He’ll just have to wait ‘til I’m ready to listen.
“Tell him he’s out of luck. I’m in the field for the foreseeable future and can’t help him.”
Gasses from rotting corpses. That’s what made me hallucinate.
The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. The druggies had been using the tunnel below the crypt as their hangout. Who knew what chemicals or toxins they’d been exposed to down there. Well, he’d certainly rained on their parade last night! Doubtful they’d be using that place again; problem was, that meant finding their new drug den.
Shouldn’t be too hard, he thought with a grimace. Just wait until one of them commits a crime tonight and then follow them.
In the meantime he’d posted the few men he could spare in the tunnel to run forensics and bring up the bodies. He’d cruise the streets and let the citizens of Rocky Point know the police were still on the job until then.
Before the Desk Sergeant even put down the phone, Cory knew what the answer would be. He could see it in the man’s smug expression.
“Chief says he’s all tied up the rest of the day, and prob’ly tomorrow too.” The Sergeant didn’t try to hide his smile. “Guess you’re out of luck, Mister Miles.”
“I’m not the only one,” Cory said. He turned and headed for the exit. As he walked to his car, he briefly considered driving around town until he found Travers, but then he tossed the idea aside. Antagonizing the Police Chief wouldn’t do any good, especially since they might need his help later.
“Well?” asked Marisol, as he got into the car. “Anything good to report?”
He shook his head. “Let’s just say it’s a good thing we’re not going to Vegas anytime soon. We’d lose our life savings.”
Marisol sighed and put her feet up on the dashboard. Cory momentarily cringed inside - he’d never even eaten in the car, let alone soiled the dash - but he kept his mouth shut. A dirty dashboard was the least of their worries. If they survived the next few days, he could complain then.
“So, what now? John’s out of commission, Todd’s quit the team and Travers won’t acknowledge the problem.”
“Now?” Cory put the car in gear. “Now we go home, eat something, get some sleep and hope your friend Freddy can help us. Otherwise we’re in big trouble.”
* * *
In Rocky Point, the setting of the summer sun no longer meant ice cream at Millie’s Café or romantic walks through Riverside Park. It no longer meant sitting on the porch with a beer or an iced tea listening to the Mets or Yankees on the radio. It no longer meant heading down to the River Club or Wharf Rats to have a drink at the Tiki Bar while a half-decent cover band played classic rock hits.
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