The Dead Show

by Amanda Fasciano

  “You must be starving, man,” Aiden said with a smile.

  “This dinner is on the production company’s dime, bro. Live it up, order whatever you want. Don’t leave hungry or sober.” He laughed and picked up his own drink, making a salute with it, and Teeny giggled.

  “I drove,” Aiden said with a shrug, “so I’ll stick to coke, but they can drink for me.”

  “Good man!” Liam said, slapping Aiden on the back congenially.

  “Seems to be quite the party for a business meeting,” Lauren said with a confused smile.

  “Our producer Russell could turn a bachelor party into a business meeting,” Teeny said with a roll of her eyes. “I swear, I have never met anyone who’s so much of a stuffed shirt.”

  “She hasn’t met Snow,” Derrick said under his breath. Aiden caught what he said and laughed.

  “I missed that man, what’d you say?” Liam looked at Derrick as he asked the question.

  “Oh,” Derrick grimaced a little bit, embarrassed that he had actually spoken it out loud. “I was just saying that we know someone like that.”

  “Don’t worry, guys, don’t worry,” Liam said. “We will get down to business, but we might as well eat and enjoy ourselves, get to know each other a little better first, right?” He waved to the table as the waiter brought out his tray full of drinks. After a moment, everyone was seated around the table.

  As the waiter left the V.I.P. room to go check on the first round of appetizers, Sam saw the ghost from the bar area enter, coming through the curtain without so much as ruffling it even a little. Once more, the two of them locked gazes and nodded at each other before the spiritual stranger turned his attention to the table of breathers. Sam’s curiosity got the better of him, and he made his way over to the ghost in the suit and fedora.

  “Hey kid, how ya doin’?” the man asked, his speech giving away his New York accent.

  “Good, thanks, you?” Sam said.

  “I’m perfect kid, thanks for askin’.”

  “I’m Sam.”

  “Joe,” the ghost said, shaking hands with Sam briefly before returning his attention to the table of breathers.

  “So which one of them is yours?” Joe looked back over to Sam as he asked the question.

  “Lauren, the larger of the two women,” Sam said.

  “Most women would be considered larger than that little girlie over there,” Joe said with a laugh. “I hear tell that these guys are doing some kind of television show. That true?”

  “Yeah,” Sam said with a nod. “But the officers of the area already know and are preparing for it.”

  “Good thing. Is it true they’re plannin’ on doin’ the prison? Barrington?” Joe bumped his fedora up a bit as he scratched at his forehead, then settled it back in place again.

  “Yeah,” Sam answered. He turned from the table of breathers to face Joe fully. “So, are you a resident here, or are you following one of the TV guys?”

  “Neither, kid,” Joe said. “I’m just a messenger.”

  “A messenger?”

  “Yeah. If I were you, I would see what I could do to get them tv folks to do their show somewheres else. Barrington ain’t no place for the livin’ no more,” Joe said, his dark eyes finally turn from the table to regard Sam as he spoke. “I ain’t kiddin’ kid.”

  Sam narrowed his eyes for a moment. “You said you were a messenger. Who is the person sending the message?”

  “Does it matter, kid?”

  “It might,” Sam said with a nod. “I know about a few people who might have some things to hide if Barrington somehow fits into their plans.”

  “A few people, huh?” Joe said with an amused grunt. “You got quite the imagination kid.”

  “What am I imagining? Someone sent you with this message, so clearly, there is something there that someone doesn’t want to be found out.”

  “Yer lookin’ in molehills for dragons, kid,” Joe said. “Barrington is dangerous. I know the guard there, the monitor, whatever you call ‘em. He told me he heard a rumor people were gearin’ up to do some kind of big investigation. He asked me to see if things were negotiable-like. If they might be amenable to goin’ elsewheres.”

  “Like where?” Sam canted his head to one side a bit, curious as to where this was going.

  “They got lotsa places with spooks round here, kid,” Joe said with a laugh. “It ain’t gonna take ‘em a lot of searchin’ to find someplace else. Barrington is dangerous. Hell, kid, I know the guard there an’ even I won’t set foot in that place beyond the damned gates.”

  “If you’re not from there,” Sam said, “how do you know the monitor there?”

  “Jesus, kid, you are stubborn,” Joe said with a chuckle and a shake of his head. “Look, I’ve said my peace. I don’t mean you or your people any harm; I’m just passin’ on a message. It’s on you if you wanna ignore it or not.” Joe gave a shrug and turned. He paused at the curtain and looked back at the table, then at Sam. “Good luck, kid, whatever you decide.” Joe then disappeared.

  Sam frowned and moved closer to the table to see how things were going. The appetizers had been delivered and were being picked over pretty well, as everyone seemed to have a plate in front of them with a little bit of everything. The waiter brought another round of drinks to the table, refilling glasses where he could, or bringing new drinks entirely.

  Dinner eventually began to wind down, and talk of past experiences turned to talk of the upcoming one.

  “I suppose for this to be a business write off we should talk some business,” Liam said with a sigh as he set down his drink. “Tomorrow is the Barrington investigation. It’s going to be long, two days.”

  “I thought you guys shot in one night?” It was Derrick who asked the question.

  “No, it takes two days,” Teeny said. “The first day is when we go in, take a look around, we do the prep interviews with people, like you. The second day, well night really, is the actual investigation.”

  “And we want you guys in on the investigation too,” Liam said. “So we’ll need you both days.”

  “We’ve got this really cool experiment we’re going to run during the night investigation,” Teeny said, her face lighting up with excitement as she smiled. “If it works, it is going to blow all the current scientific conventions regarding paranormal research out of the water!”

  “What is it?” Aiden asked.

  “It’s a surprise for now,” Teeny said. “We’ll show you and explain it to you on site the night of.”

  “It is scientific,” Liam said, trying to reassure them. “No séances with candles and Ouija boards. Teeny designed this herself based on many of the prevailing theories in paranormal research.”

  Lauren kept herself from frowning, not wanting to seem ungracious to their hosts, but she had a bad feeling about this so-called experiment. She worried about the ghosts they knew, and Sam, and what this experiment might mean for them.

  “You are aware that Barrington can be a lethal place, right?” Aiden looked at Liam as he asked this, trying to make sure the man wasn’t all party and personality and no caution.

  Liam sighed like a teenager being told something by their parent for the ten thousandth time. “We know. Old building, we need to watch for all the usual signs of structural failure, especially in the dark. Have a little faith, man. This isn’t our first rodeo.”

  Aiden wanted to add more but decided to save it for later. Liam seemed to be in too much of a party mood to seriously broach the dangers of the building they had chosen to investigate.

  “Fine, but I have one more business question for you,” Aiden said.

  “And that would be?” Liam asked.

  “Do you even believe in the ghosts you hunt?”

  “That’s not business,” Liam said with a smile, saluting Aiden with his glass before taking a drink. “That’s personal opinion.”

  Chapter 8

  The mid-morning light was bright and undimmed by clouds. The grou
nd was covered with patches of snow that seemed to sparkle under the sunlight. The wind was cold as it blew through the yard, and whistled through the broken panes of glass in the windows of the prison. The dark brick edifice stood stalwart against the efforts of the encroaching nature, whether it was the grass or the wind. All windows had bars in front of them whether or not they had any glass left in the panes. A tall brick wall topped with a great deal of rusted barbed wire stood as a silent guard around the prison and its outside areas.

  Snow, Cadence, and Whitfield arrived on the front steps of the prison with the barred double doors in front of them. The crumbling parking lot behind them remained empty. The breathers had yet to arrive. It didn’t take long, as it never seemed to, for the building monitor to appear.

  Roy Pruitt looked to have been in his late forties when he died. He had been a little on the stocky side but not really out of shape. He had dark brown eyes, shaggy black hair and a trademark 1970’s big and full mustache. He wore his guard uniform, but Cadence had no trouble what-so-ever imagining him being more comfortable in a polyester leisure suit, complete with some ridiculous gold chains or a medallion.

  “Mornin’ officers. What can I do ya for?” Roy had an easy smile and a country twang to go with the question.

  “Mr. Pruitt, you remember myself and my partner, Riley, I’m sure?” Snow asked.

  “Of course, of course,” the guard nodded. “Seems ya brought more company today, though.”

  “Yes, this is Agent Whitfield, an NHD agent,” Snow said as he introduced Whitfield to the former prison guard. “The three of us are working together as a kind of experiment for the powers that be. We’ll be working here with you for the next couple of days.”

  “Couple of days? Somethin’ goin’ on?”

  “There’s to be a full-scale paranormal investigation here, complete with television cameras,” Snow replied.

  “Television cameras!” Pruitt exclaimed. “What for?”

  “Ghost hunting has become popular lately,” Cadence explained. “I know you’ve had some small teams come in here before.”

  “Yeah, yeah, that we have. Always managed to steer ‘em clear of the worst parts of this place though,” Roy said.

  “Well, it’s gotten popular enough that there are now television shows that focus on investigations into haunted places. One such show has contacted a local group, and they’ll be investigating here over a few days.”

  “Well shit on a stick,” Pruitt frowned. “Guess people’ll watch anythin’ these days.”

  “You’re not too far off there,” Cadence said.

  “It’ll be fine,” Snow assured the man.

  “Mr. Pruitt,” Cadence began.

  “Ah, honey, call me Roy. Mr. Pruitt is my dad.”

  Cadence did her best not to bristle at being called honey. “Okay, Roy, you had mentioned something about keeping previous investigators away from hot spots? What hot spots do you have here?” She already had a good idea, as she and Snow had gone over Croft’s map and notes the night before, but she wanted to hear Roy explain it.

  “Well, we have places that have a bunch of spirits, but after dark, there’s somethin’ worse ‘round here in a couple of places. I do my best to keep the breathers out of those places if they come round after sunset.”

  That piqued Whitfield’s interest. “What do you mean something worse?” he asked.

  “Just somethin’ worse,” Roy said with a shrug. “Darker, y’know? Never been able to tell who it is though. It wears different faces, sometimes.”

  “Is it a non-human?” Whitfield asked.

  “One of them monsters? No,” Pruitt shook his head. “Back in the eighties, we had a team come through here. They went into one of them places and got attacked by the dark. I didn’t know it was as strong as that, that it could do what it did. After that, I’ve been doin’ my best to make sure no breathers go to those places after dark.”

  “I thought day or night didn’t matter,” Cadence said, looking to Snow.

  “Sometimes darkness can give power to certain specters, especially the kind that isn’t really a ghost at all,” Snow explained.

  “What on earth does that mean?” Cade asked.

  Whitfield took the explanation over. “Sometimes, especially in places like this, something can form that isn’t a real spirit or a non-human creature. Places like this contain a lot of trauma. Deaths, fights, rapes, regrets, anger. The passion of these emotions and acts of violence can lead to a shattering of human souls. The person’s soul may have gone on but left bits behind, like debris in a house after people move out and leave what they don’t want behind. These scattered bits and pieces of all these different people can come together and form something that has the intelligence of a human, but all the negativity of those violent instances.”

  “So it’s like a spiritual version of Frankenstein’s monster of violence and anger?” Cadence asked.

  “That’s one way to put it,” Snow said with a nod.

  “Well we have two of the suckers here,” Roy said. “There’s one that keeps itself to the gallows and one in the rec room. We all do our best to keep the breathers out of there when they come by, and stay the heck out of its way any other time.”

  “You said something bad happened in the eighties,” Cadence said. “What happened?”

  “In the rec room. Whatever it was ya’ll are callin’ it, attacked a couple of people that were tryin’ to make contact with the dead. Stupid idea ifn ya ask me, comin’ into a place like this an’ tryin’ to contact the dead, stirrin’ up God knows what,” Roy turned to the side and spat before continuing his answer. “Anyways, these two got more’n they bargained fer. One of ‘em got tossed clear across the rec room. Other one got a couple of pipes lobbed at his head. The one that got tossed, they had to carry him on outta here. I think he broke his back the way he landed.”

  “Have these specters attacked any of the spirits here?” Whitfield asked.

  “No, but it ain’t like we give ‘em cause to neither,” Roy answered.

  Cadence sighed and looked to Snow. “Looks like we’ll have our work cut out for us after the sun goes down then.”

  “I’m sure we’ll be able to come up with some sort of game plan once the crews get here and we see what they have in mind for filming,” Snow said with a shrug. “Anything else we need to be aware of Roy?” he asked, turning back to the mustachioed prison guard.

  “We got a bunch of unruly folks in the cafeteria,” Roy Pruitt answered. “They like to prank the breathers.”

  “Prank them?” Whitfield asked. “How?”

  “Touching mostly,” the guard shrugged. “Yelling, poking, hitting, things like that.”

  “In other words, nothing we can’t handle,” Snow nodded.

  The sound of crunching rocks and the hum of an engine drew the attention of the group of unseen ghosts towards the cracked pavement of the parking lot. Aiden’s van broke the relative silence of the cold, crisp morning with a high pitched squeak as it stopped. Once the engine was silenced the doors opened, and Aaron, Lauren, and Derrick exited the vehicle, as well as Sam. Cadence’s limp was still very evident as she and Snow crossed the overgrown grassy area to the parking lot, leaving Whitfield to discuss particulars with Roy.

  “So how did it go last night with the TV show people?” Cadence asked as Sam walked over to her and Snow.

  Sam frowned. “It went okay, but something weird happened.”

  “What happened?” Concern instantly colored Snow’s voice as he asked the question.

  “There was a ghost at the restaurant last night called Joe, or so he said. He claimed to be a friend of the monitor here, but not an inmate or former guard or anything,” Sam said. “He said I needed to try to warn them off from investigating here. That there was something evil here that could hurt them.”

  “Did this Joe give any reason for his desire to interfere?” Snow frowned, thinking as he asked.

  “He said he was just delivering
a message for the monitor here,” Sam said with a shrug.

  “He couldn’t have been,” Cadence said with a shake of her head. “Mr. Pruitt only just found out about the television show when we arrived today.”

  “That we know of,” Snow said with a look to Cadence. “Either way I am not sure I like what’s afoot with all of this.”

  “What do you mean?” Cadence tried to brush some of her dark blonde hair out of her face as a gust of cold wind blew the long hair from her ponytail into her face.

  “We have an independent spirit, not tied to the prison nor the restaurant it seems, approaching Sam to sway the group to go elsewhere,” Snow said, beginning to tick off points on his fingers. “This independent spirit somehow knew where to find them and that Sam would be attached to them, so he had another spirit to give his warning to. This independent spirit also claimed to be a friend of Mr. Pruitt’s and was delivering a message on his behalf. We also have Mr. Pruitt himself professing to be unaware of the television show until this very morning. So either Mr. Pruitt is lying about not knowing about the show, or this Joe is lying about where his message is coming from. Neither alternative points to anything particularly positive.”

  Cadence looked over at her brother. “Did you pass the message on to Lauren?”

  “No,” Sam said with a shake of his head. “I couldn’t see how doing so would really make any difference. It’s not like Lauren is in charge of where a television show has set up to shoot. And it isn’t like the TV show guys can change their production spot on a whim, with all the hoops they have to jump through with permits and permissions to be able to film someplace.”

  Both Snow and Cadence nodded, but it was Snow who responded. “A sound decision, Sam, good work. Why don’t you let Lauren know we’re here?”

  Sam nodded and made his way back over to the trio of breathers, who were standing around outside the van, hands all firmly stuffed in the pockets of their coats. Their breath was visible in the cold of the morning, and Derrick was hopping up and down a little to try to keep warm.