At last, they found a sign that said Basement, with an arrow pointing to the right. They followed a short hallway to a service elevator and a set of double doors below a green sign that read Morgue. Josh pulled the doors open, a blast of cold air rushing past him, and started down the steps. Izzy, Luke, and Alex followed, with Dave and Crystal bringing up the rear. At the bottom, the group stopped. Izzy swallowed.
Wide cement tunnels led off in all directions, left, right, and straight ahead. Crusty, dripping pipes of various sizes traveled along the length of the ceilings, next to metal conduit used to house electrical wires. Every ten feet, a stone archway lined each passageway, making the tunnels look like corridors beneath a medieval castle. Izzy had the illusion she was standing between two mirrors, the reflection of the archway reflected a thousand times in every direction. She imagined getting lost and never finding her way out. On the archway straight ahead, a sign said Electroshock Treatment. On the archway to the left, a sign read Morgue. To the right of the staircase, a wide service elevator stood open, the rusty brass grate partly closed. A hospital bed with a broken wheel and a grungy, ripped sheet tilted against one elevator wall.
“That must be how they brought the bodies down,” Alex said.
“Ewww,” Crystal said.
Josh started down the hallway toward the morgue, his giant form nearly blocking out the flashlight beam that bounced along the floor in front of him. “This way,” he said. Dave and Crystal followed.
“Wait!” Alex said. “Let’s check out the room where they did shock treatments!”
Josh stopped and turned. “There’s nothing down there,” he said.
“Come on!” Dave said. “We’re going to the morgue!” He sounded irritated. Izzy wondered why he was in such a hurry. Maybe he was using anger to hide his fear.
“I’m going to check it out,” Alex said.
Josh grunted and lumbered toward them, reluctantly rejoining the group. “Let’s make it quick,” he said.
To the left of the tunnel after the fourth arch, they found the electroshock treatment room. The low-ceilinged space was filled with examination tables, rusty carts, and riveted metal boxes that looked like giant batteries, with black dials and wires coming out. Along the far wall, peeling medicine cabinets stood with half-open drawers spilling out wire coils, rubber mouth guards, and what looked like joysticks for a video game. Izzy walked along the walls, looking for filing cabinets or anything that seemed like it might hold paperwork. There was nothing.
“They must have shocked more than one person at a time,” Dave said. “Kind of like a herd of cattle getting branded.”
“Sure looks that way,” Alex said. “You said there was a flood and people died in here?”
“Yeah,” Josh said, rummaging through a drawer. He turned to look at her, shining his flashlight in her face.
Alex put up her hand, shielding her eyes. “Dude,” she said. “You’re blinding me!”
The flashlight beam fell. “Sorry,” Josh said.
“This is so gross,” Crystal said.
“I wonder if they did lobotomies here,” Alex said.
“Come on,” Dave said. “We’re supposed to be exploring the morgue, not wasting time in here.”
“Yeah,” Izzy said. She felt like throwing up. “Let’s get out of here.”
As they made their way toward the morgue, the air grew even more damp and cold. Izzy shoved her hands in the pockets of her sweatshirt and pulled up her hood. Beside her, Crystal swatted the empty space above her head, terrified that a spiderweb would snag her hair or whisper across her face. Without warning, Josh came to a sudden halt, shining his flashlight into an open door on his left. Dave kept walking, then stopped and turned.
“Come on,” he said. “We’re almost there!”
Josh edged toward the open doorway. “What the hell is this?” he said, his voice filled with disgust.
Dave joined him. “Holy shit,” he said. The two of them disappeared inside the room. Everyone followed.
The walls of the stone room were lined with iron cages made of two-inch thick metal, the bars riveted together in a crisscross pattern, like a loose basket weave. Inside the cages, metal cots were bolted to the floor and chains and cuffs hung from the wall.
“What is this place?” Crystal said.
“They kept people in these cages!” Josh said, laughing nervously.
“Maybe this is where they kept the violent patients,” Alex said.
“It might be where they kept patients with tuberculosis or typhoid,” Izzy said.
“This is so creepy!” Alex said. “No wonder Willard is haunted.”
“Can we just go to the morgue and get this over with?” Izzy said, trying to keep her voice steady.
“Yeah,” Josh said. “Let’s go. We can come back here some other time.”
The group filed out of the room and turned left. Finally, they saw a set of double doors with a faded metal sign that read Morgue in green letters. At the end of a tunnel, they could see another entryway, with broken windows in the upper half of the double doors. Muted moonlight filtered in through the grime-covered glass, like glowing blue eyes. Stack after stack of homemade coffins clambered up the walls near the doors, like piles of oversized books.
“Oh my God,” Crystal said. “That is so gross!”
They edged through the double doors into the morgue, moving slowly as if afraid something waited on the other side. Dave and Josh shined their flashlights around the room. Along the farthest wall was a deep, three-basin sink, its porcelain counter filled with yellowed plastic jugs and filmy bottles. Garbage cans and moldy boxes littered the stained cement floor, along with a corroded necropsy tool cart and several broken folding chairs. Industrial lighting hung from the peeling ceiling over a stainless steel autopsy table. On both sides of the table, near the middle, were square drain holes, and on one end was a small basin with a black hose. Next to the table sat a large, wheeled vat with a rubber hose coming from the top. The metal side read Embalming Fluid.
In the far corner, a wooden body storage vault with six doors filled nearly a quarter of the room, its hinges and handles rusty and tarnished. Next to the vault sat a black, corroded motor used to power the refrigerated storage chamber. The top two doors of the vault looked relatively spotless, their wooden planks reflecting the beams of the flashlights. The four doors below were stained and streaked with what looked like black tar, as if something inside the top doors had rotted and melted, leaking down the front of the unit. A faint odor of formaldehyde, mold, and something that smelled like warm pennies hung in the air.
Izzy put her hand over her mouth, fighting the urge to run out of the room and outside, toward fresh air. Then she saw a two-drawer filing cabinet in the corner. She hurried over to it and pulled open the top drawer, shining her flashlight inside. A stack of folders slumped toward the back of the drawer, nearly gray beneath a thick layer of dust and spiderwebs. Alex came over to see what she was doing.
“What is it?” she said. “What did you find?”
Izzy handed her the flashlight. “Hold this,” she said. Alex directed the light inside the cabinet while Izzy riffled through the folders, holding her breath. They were all empty. She opened the bottom drawer and found a haphazard stack of yellowed papers. Izzy picked up the top sheet and took the flashlight from Alex. It was a blank New York State Death Certificate.
“What are you looking for?” Alex said.
“We’re working on a Willard project at the museum,” Izzy said. “I’m just trying to see if I can find anything that will help.”
“How would you explain that to your foster mom?” Alex said.
“I’ll worry about that later,” Izzy said.
Just then, Crystal appeared. “Come on,” she said, taking Alex’s arm and pulling her toward the autopsy table. “Let’s see if we can get that lady to show up again. Everybody, get in a circle and we’ll ask if she’s here.”
Izzy looked through the rest of the
papers. The entire stack was nothing but blank death certificates.
“Hurry up,” Alex said to her.
Izzy rolled her eyes and closed the cabinet.
“Everybody, get over here,” Crystal said. “We’re going to have a séance!”
“Awesome!” Dave said, hurrying over to Crystal’s side. “Good idea, babe.”
Luke pushed a soggy cardboard box from the autopsy table and said, “Hey, Josh, come over here and lie down. We’ll give you a massage you’ll never forget!”
Josh laughed and moved toward the storage vault. He opened one of the middle doors and shined his flashlight inside. The interior of the vault was pockmarked and full of mold. “I’ll lie down on that,” he said. “Right after you lie down in here.” He rolled out a rusted slab, filling the room with the sound of screeching metal.
“How much will you give me?” Luke said.
“Five bucks,” Josh said.
“I’ll give you ten if you let us push you in and close the door,” Dave said.
“Will you guys quit messing around!” Crystal said. “I thought we came here to see if this place was haunted!”
Josh came over to the table, leaving the door to the vault partway open. “Okay, okay,” he said. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch.”
“Shut up, will you?” Crystal said. “This is serious.” She pulled a small, fat candle from her jacket pocket, asked Dave for his lighter, and lit the short wick. Then she placed the candle in the center of the autopsy table, moving slowly and carefully so the flame wouldn’t go out and her fingers wouldn’t touch the stained surface. “Okay, come on,” she said in a soft voice. “Everyone, stand around the table. And shut off your flashlights.”
Everyone shut off their flashlights and edged closer. Izzy stood between Dave and Josh, her back toward the vault, her flashlight under her arm, her fists shoved in the pockets of her hoodie. Crystal took Dave’s hand and reached for Alex’s, the flickering flame casting dark shadows beneath her eyes.
“We have to be quiet,” Crystal said. “And we have to hold hands.” Alex bit her lip and took Crystal’s and Luke’s hands. Dave and Josh reached for Izzy’s hands at the same time. For a second, she kept her hands in her pockets, then decided to play along. The sooner they got this silly séance over with, the sooner she could get out of here. Josh’s hand felt like a soggy baseball glove. Her stomach turned. Then Luke and Josh realized they were next to each other.
“I’m not holding hands with a dude,” Luke said.
“Me either,” said Josh.
“Just do it!” Crystal said, glaring at them. “This won’t work unless we take it seriously!”
“She’s right,” Alex said. “We have to hold hands.”
“Why?” Izzy said. “What does it mean?”
“In case any of the spirits we bring forth are evil,” Alex said. “If we’re touching each other, the evil spirit can’t attach itself to anyone.”
“See?” Crystal said, grinning. “I told you. Now let’s get this show on the road.”
Josh rolled his eyes and held a hand out to Luke, who reluctantly touched the edges of Josh’s fingers.
“If I hear any rumors going around about this, I’ll—” Luke said.
“Our lips are sealed,” Dave said, pretending to blow kisses in his direction.
Crystal stomped on Dave’s foot. “Did you forget what we came here for?” she said.
Dave’s face contorted in pain. “Jesus!” he said. “Okay, okay!”
“Everyone ready?” Crystal said, directing her attention particularly to Josh and Luke. Josh and Luke nodded, doing their best to stop smirking. Crystal waited another second or two, then closed her eyes. “Is there anyone here with us?” she said, her voice hushed and reverent. One of the guys made a small, snorting sound, as if trying to suppress his laughter. “We’re not here to cause you harm,” Crystal continued.
“If there is anyone here with us,” Alex said, “can you give us a sign?”
Izzy opened her eyes to look at Alex, surprised to hear her speaking. Her eyes were closed, her head down. Beside her, Luke stood with his shoulders hunched, his face in knots as if he expected to be hit or touched at any second. Izzy closed her eyes again. She wondered what would happen if they called Clara’s name. She thought about suggesting it, then changed her mind. Everyone would ask questions about how she knew a patient’s name. Right now, she just wanted to get this over with.
“We invite you to move among us,” Crystal said. “You can touch our hair, knock on the walls, anything to let us know you’re here.”
“If someone touches me, I’m outta here!” Luke said.
“Shhh!” Crystal said. She took a long, deep breath, then let it out slowly, waiting. Then she said, “Please give us a sign that you’re with us. We want to understand why you’re still here, trapped inside this asylum.”
“We can help you find peace,” Alex said. “To move on from this place and join your loved ones who have already crossed over.”
Just then, a soft thud-thud sounded behind Izzy. Alex made a high-pitched squeak, as if trying to suppress a scream.
“Shhh . . .” Crystal whispered. “It’s okay. Just relax. If that was you, can you make that noise again?”
Thud-thud.
Josh’s sweaty hand tightened around Izzy’s. She wiggled her fingers, trying to loosen his grip. It was no use.
“We hear you,” Crystal said.
“Were you a patient here?” Alex said. “Were you locked up in this horrible place?”
Thud-thud. Thud-thud.
Izzy’s heartbeat quickened. Is this for real? She’d come in this awful place to humor Alex, not to get scared shitless. The only thing worse than being in an old insane asylum would be seeing the ghosts of former patients.
“Are you here alone?” Alex said. “Are there others with you?”
“Can you make a different noise?” Crystal said. “Something to let us know it’s really you?”
Just then, Izzy heard three knocks behind her, as if a person was rapping their knuckles on the inside of the wooden vault. The hair on her arms stood up. All at once, the air felt heavy and hot, as if someone had turned on the furnace. Despite her doubts, she pulled her shoulders inward to make herself smaller, squeezing Dave’s and Josh’s hands.
“Can you make that knocking sound again?” Alex said.
Knock, knock, knock, knock.
“We’re here to help you,” Crystal called out. “Can you tell us your name?”
Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock.
Alex screamed. Izzy opened her eyes and let go of Josh’s and Dave’s hands. She dropped her flashlight. Just then, the candle went out, pitching the morgue into blackness. Alex started shouting. “Get off me! Leave me alone! What are you doing?” Then she was mumbling, as if someone had a hand over her mouth.
Izzy rushed toward the door, slamming face-first into Josh. To her surprise, he grabbed her and spun her around. For a split second, she thought her sense of direction was off and Josh was trying to help her escape. Maybe the door was to her right, not her left. The room filled with the sounds of people shuffling and fighting. Then Josh wrapped his arms around Izzy’s chest and picked her up, his beer-soaked breath coming hot and fast in her ear. She thought he was going to carry her out of the room, toward safety, but then someone grabbed her ankles and lifted her legs off the floor.
“What the hell are you doing?” Izzy yelled, kicking. One foot collided with someone’s head, setting that leg free, and she heard someone cuss. It was Dave. She twisted and turned, trying to fight her way out of Josh’s grasp. It was no use. Dave grabbed her ankle again, and they carried her across the room. “Let me go!”
Metal screeched against metal. It was the sound of the vault slab being rolled out. Then Izzy was dropped onto the cold block and held down, the back of her head thumping against the steel. Strong hands held her down. Metal screeched again and she moved forward, as if slippi
ng along a horizontal slide, except the slide was moving with her. She was shoved inside the vault, the slab slamming into the back wall with a vibrating thud. She raised her arms to stop the door from closing, her elbows and wrists scraping along the rough interior of the chamber. Her forearms caught in the door, crushing her muscles and tearing at her skin. She screamed. Rough hands pushed her arms inside. Then the door slammed closed, plunging her into total darkness.
CHAPTER 14
CLARA
The Rookie Pest House
As the leaves curled around the edges and fell one by one from the oak trees outside the Rookie Pest House windows, Clara sat on her filthy bed and watched Lawrence Lawrence push a wheelbarrow between the rows of iron markers in the cemetery across the road. He worked in the graveyard at least three times a week and his routine was always the same. First, he stopped at the chosen location, unbuttoned his coat, and took off his newsboy cap, smoothing his hands over his gray hair, once on each side, then four times down the middle. Then he made the sign of the cross over his chest and bowed his head, his cap clutched over his heart. After a long minute, he looked up at the sky, put his cap back on, pulled his shovel out of the wheelbarrow and started digging, stopping only long enough to lift a rock over the edge of the hole or switch from a shovel to a pick. He didn’t stop until the hole was dug and the pile of dirt beside it was free of roots and stones. When the job was finished, he took off his cap, smoothed his hair again, wiped his brow, and put his cap back on. Even on the days when he raked leaves or cut the grass, he worked nonstop until the job was complete.
While the weeks passed and Clara felt herself giving up and growing weaker, she marveled at the gravedigger’s stamina. Even as winter’s snow weighed down the cedar trees and built up between the bars outside the windows, the gravedigger shoveled paths through the cemetery to dig a patient’s final resting place. Near the end of December, he finally gave up trying to break open the frozen earth, but only for a short time. A few weeks later, after an unseasonably long January thaw, when Clara could see the white banks of Creek Mears nearly overflowing with icy water, Lawrence Lawrence got back to work.
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