Beacon's Spark (Potomac Shadows Book 1)

by Jim Johnson

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  Chapter 1

  THE FOGGED-UP MIDDLE DOOR ON the Metro bus cranked open. A blast of chilly air hit me full in the face, adding to my Wednesday misery. It was February in Alexandria and I hadn’t thought to layer up. It had felt warmer after my morning run, and I had expected to spend most of the day indoors, either visiting Grandpa or working at what passed for my job.

  I shrugged into my hoodie as I got off the bus and then started toward Branchwood, the nursing home that had become my grandpa’s new world. The trees lining both sides of Windsor Street were little more than ghosts of their former selves, their foliage long since lost in the winter.

  “Excuse me, miss?” someone called from behind me.

  I stopped and turned. “Yeah?”

  An older lady with white hair and a fitted black dress easily thirty years out of style stared at me through thick lenses. She clutched a shiny black leather purse in both hands. She was shivering despite the thick gray sweater draped over her shoulders. “I’m looking for Branchwood Estates. Was this the right stop or did I miss it?”

  “No, this is it. Are you visiting someone?”

  She nodded. “My sister moved in a couple days ago. I wanted to see how she was doing.”

  “You’re at the right place.” I indicated the sidewalk leading away from the bus stop. “Branchwood’s a couple blocks away.” After a moment’s thought, I offered my arm. “Want some company?”

  She smiled and then tucked her purse under one arm as she reached out with the other. “Thank you so much, my dear. What’s your name?”

  “Rachel…Rachel Farran. How about you?”

  “Shirley Abrahms. My sister’s name is Claire.”

  I made an affirming sound at that and then led Shirley toward Branchwood. “I hope Claire likes it here, Shirley. My grandpa’s been here just over a year and finds it tolerable.”

  Shirley said, “That’s good to know. My sister and I visited Branchwood a few times when we were looking for the right home for her, and it seemed comfortable enough.”

  On top of dealing with the chill and my insufficient layers, I was nursing a headache, a common occurrence for me during the winter. So I was content to let Shirley lead the conversation as we walked the two short blocks toward Branchwood.

  “Does your grandfather participate in a lot of activities here?”

  I mulled over the question as we walked through the home’s entry gates and started up the short driveway that led to the parking lot. “I think so. Seems like he’s active enough.” I frowned, realizing that as often as I visited Grandpa, I didn’t really have a sense of what he did while in the home. “He seems happy every time I come to visit, anyway.”

  There was an assortment of vehicles parked in the lot, and one of them clearly didn’t belong—my brother Robert’s bright silver Mercedes. He’d double-parked it outside the front doors again and was leaning against the hood in his three-piece suit and power tie, sucking down the last of a Red Bull.

  Robert glanced at me and burped out a welcome, then tossed the empty toward a nearby trashcan. He missed, as usual, and the can clattered off to one side. I felt Shirley flinch on my arm.

  “Hey, Ray. Who’s your new friend?” Robert flashed his capped teeth.

  “This is Shirley.” I glanced at her. “This is my brother, Robert.” I didn’t try to hide the disgust in my voice.

  She wrinkled her nose and then moved her hand off my arm and stuck it in her sweater pocket. “You left your trash on the curb, young man. I trust you’ll pick it up.” She turned to me with a pointed look and then smiled. “Thank you for walking me here, Rachel. Your kindness shines out. I appreciate it.”

  I felt my cheeks flush. “Uh, thanks. Have a nice visit with your sister. I hope Claire is settling in.”

  “I trust she is. Take care of yourself and your grandfather.” She nodded once more to me, gave Robert a withering glare, and then walked past him and toward the nursing home’s entrance.

  Robert made a face at her behind her back. I reached out and smacked him on the arm. “Come on, Robert. Grow up already, won’t you?”

  He snorted and turned back to me. “Did you see the look that old bat gave me? It’s not like I dropped trash on her front lawn.”

  I rolled my eyes. “How does someone with so little class drive such a nice car?”

  “Benefit of being the family favorite, I guess.” He chuckled. “If you hadn’t dropped out of college, you might be driving one too, you know.”

  I bit my lip to keep from taking his bait. We’d had this conversation more than once and while it had partly been his fault I had left UPenn…well, this wasn’t the time to talk about that again.

  I took a deep breath and let it out slow. “Come on, let’s go see Grandpa.”

  He gathered up his black leather briefcase and then led the way into the home. We walked in through the large sliding glass doors and then made our way to the visitor’s desk. We signed in and got our visitor badges, and then headed down the long residential hall on the first floor in silence, which suited me just fine. Lately I’d been seeing Robert just on Wednesdays, when we visited Grandpa. One day a week of Robert was more than enough.

  When we got to Grandpa’s room, Robert reached out and knocked on the heavy wood door. He nodded toward one of the ugly blue plastic chairs lining the hallway. “Hang out here a bit.” He lifted his briefcase slightly. “Me and Grandpa have to go over some financials first. I’ll come grab you when we’re done.”

  I sighed and then nodded, knowing that Robert wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. “Fine.” This wasn’t the first time I’d had to wait while Robert talked to Grandpa in private. And I doubted it’d be the last.

  I sat down heavily in a chair as Robert opened the door, walked through, and then shut it behind him. I placed my weathered canvas satchel on my lap, feeling a little self-conscious about Robert’s pristine leather briefcase. I slouched into the cold plastic chair, hating the vague antiseptic smell that permeated all of Branchwood. I guess they hadn’t figured out how to cover that particular scent entirely, though at least the place didn’t smell so much like a hospital.

  I usually liked coming here because it meant I got to spend some time with my grandpa, but today it felt kind of bleak. The thought appeared unbidden in my mind that this was probably the last place Grandpa would live. I frowned at the thought. “Stupid cold front.” The weather had me down for sure.

  I shrugged in my hoodie again and pulled my sleeves down halfway over my hands. God, it was freezing. I knew Branchwood had heat, but it felt like they’d turned it off in the hallway.

  My headache throbbed anew, the discomfort radiating from my left temple out to my left ear, somehow leaving an itch behind my eyes that I couldn’t hope to reach. I usually got the headaches when it was really cold out, but I’d been getting them more frequently over the last few months. One of the worst had been at UPenn, just before I had to drop out. This felt like a stronger headache, though, as if some unseen pressure wave was closing in around me. Maybe we had a bad storm front moving in.

  A sudden, indistinct whisper distracted me, and a jab of fear sparked down my spine. I focused my attention down the hallway. A flicker of motion appeared near one of the doorways. I stared, transfixed, as a pale round face literally appeared through a closed door and turned to stare right at me.

  Chapter 2

  I STARED DOW
N THE DRAB HALLWAY, the heavy weight of fear pressing me firmly in my ugly blue molded plastic chair. I opened my mouth to call out, but little more than a hollow croak sounded. I tried to swallow, to get some sort of moisture in my mouth, but my breath caught. An icy chill ran along my spine and up into my hair line. My scalp felt like a million ants were crawling their way around inside my hair.

  The face poking out of the door stared at me, and after a moment I realized it looked like a woman. Her face was a pale circle with two black circles where her eyes should have been, a thin dark line underneath that I guessed was her mouth, and the whole framed in a fuzzy halo of dingy gray hair.

  I couldn’t make out much detail from where I sat, but my guess was that she was one of the residents here. Was she lost or confused? Why was there no nurse helping her out?

  Then a more important thought slammed into me: why was her head sticking through the freaking door?

  I wanted to turn my head away, to look at something else, to focus on waiting for Robert to come out of my grandpa’s room—anything else but that strange face. A subtle bass drone, almost electrical, suddenly hummed down the corridor and echoed in my ears.

  I furrowed my brow, realizing that as hard as I tried, I couldn’t turn my head away from the strange woman. I even tried moving my eyes, but they were rooted in place, as if all the muscles had cramped up to keep me focused on that one strange face.

  If I could have generated a sound, I would have screamed, or at least cried out, but all I could manage was another little squeak, hardly audible over that strange electrical sound.

  And as suddenly as it had started, the hum ceased, the pressure eased on my headache, and the woman’s face faded out of sight, dissipating like smoke in the wind. The temperature all around me soon shifted from frigid to temperate, and my whole body slumped forward, free of whatever unseen force had held me in place.

  Even with the new warmth in the hall, I pulled my arms around and hugged myself hard. “What the hell was that?” I muttered, though there was no one in the hall to hear me.

  Even with the woman and the hum gone, I couldn’t help but stare in the direction of the empty doorway. Where did it lead? Was it a room, like my grandpa’s, another hallway, or a staircase? I didn’t know—I hadn’t spent much time roaming the nursing home—it wasn’t exactly the most touristy of places.

  In spite of the newfound lead in my sneakers and the chill that still played up and down my spine, I had to know who that woman was. It was like that old saying about curiosity killing the cat. If I had been born a feline, I’d probably be on my fourth or fifth life by now.

  I glanced again at my grandpa’s door, but it remained closed. I tilted my head toward the door and could just barely hear the tenor of my brother’s voice and an occasional response from my grandpa’s deeper tone.

  I guessed they would be talking a while yet—when they went on about business and money and investments and whatever, they took a good long time doing it. I figured I had a few minutes and even then I knew I wouldn’t be missed if I was gone for longer than that.

  I picked up my satchel and threw it over one shoulder, tucking my hoodie sleeves down halfway over my hands and then pulling the satchel strap over my neck so that it crossed my chest and back.

  I patted the satchel, knowing that it contained my little black Swiss Army knife, but then laughed at myself. Why would I need a penknife to check out what was probably just some weird old woman?

  “Getting silly, girl,” I whispered. I shrugged in my hoodie and then started down the hall. The temperature dropped as I walked toward the door where I had seen the woman’s face, which made me hesitant all over again. Unless Branchwood’s heating system was on the fritz, something really weird was going on.

  My steps slowed as I neared the closed door, and a few steps away I caught myself holding my breath. I stopped and clenched my hands into fists, and forced myself to take a couple deep breaths. “Get a grip. This is no big deal.”

  “What’s no big deal?” The voice sounded from just behind me. I nearly jumped out of my jeans.

  I spun in place, both hands coming up in defensive positions. “The hell?” I cried out.

  A youngish black man, wearing dark blue jeans and an oversized purple Baltimore Ravens parka, grinned as he stepped through the doorway to another residence and pulled the door closed behind him.

  He was kinda cute in the face and had shaved his head, but not recently, given the shadow of thin stubble. A thick gold rope chain hanging around his neck was just visible underneath his parka and he had gold studs glittering from both earlobes.

  He grinned as his dark brown eyes caught my gaze. “I’ve seen you around here before, yeah? Never caught your name, though. I’m Malcolm.”

  I frowned and pulled my hoodie closed even though it was zipped up halfway. I stared at his face and shrugged. “I think I recognize you. I’m here once a week.” I nodded my head toward the hallway where my grandpa’s room was located. “Family’s here.”

  He smiled sidelong and poked a thumb toward the door behind him. “Me too. Grannie’s been here a couple years.” He shrugged, a movement similar to the one I’d just made. “Hopefully be here a few more.” He shoved his hands into his coat pockets and gave me an open, curious look. “So, what you up to?”

  I glanced down the hallway behind him. It was empty. I turned my eyes toward the door where I had seen the woman’s face, then glanced back at him. “I thought I saw someone in that doorway. I was curious. Thought I’d check it out.”

  He stared toward the door in question. If I hadn’t been looking at his face I wouldn’t have seen his eyes get real big, real fast.

  I pulled my gaze from his face and focused on that door again. That same woman’s face floated just in front of the door, stared right at us, and then slipped from view. And when I say ‘slipped from view’, I mean the face disappeared…through the wall. I blinked a couple times, thinking maybe my suddenly-resurgent headache was making my eyes play tricks on me, but no…I had seen her face actually disappear into the damn wall.

  “Tell me you saw that.”

  Malcolm kept his eyes focused on the wall where the woman’s face had been. “If…if I told you that, you’d think I was crazy.”

  I shook my head. “No crazier than me, anyway.”

  He tore his eyes from that spot on the wall. “Wha…what should we do?”

  I met his eyes and stared wordlessly for several moments. “I say we check it out, then run for help if things get crazy.” I paused, surprised at my own apparent bravery.

  He snorted. “Crazier than a woman disappearing through the wall like some sort of Harry Potter business?”

  I forced a little smile on my face. “What have we got to lose?” Yeah, curiosity had it out for this cat.

  Chapter 3

  MALCOLM STARED AT ME FOR A long moment or two, but then simply shrugged his shoulders inside his big Ravens jacket. He nodded toward the door where we’d both seen that strange woman’s face. “I think you’re crazy, but if you wanna go check it out, I’m game.” He looked doubtful, but then nodded, looking more confident.

  “Let’s do it. Ain’t no ghost-face woman gonna scare me.” He nodded toward the closed door. “But, you know…ladies first.” The smile on his face looked to be about as forced as mine.

  “I’m no lady, but thanks anyway.” I reached out a tentative hand toward the doorknob, and stole a glance up and down the hallway. No nurses were haunting the hallway and no one was coming to check up on us. It was just me and Malcolm and this closed door.

  I reached out and tried the doorknob. It was cold to the touch but unlocked. It opened without issue and I pushed it open and looked in through the doorway. It opened up into another hallway, one with dimmer lighting than the others in the nursing home.

  I glanced at Malcolm. “Either this place doesn’t pay all their electric bills, or the wiring is screwed up in this part of the home.”

  He moved next to m
e and looked in through the open doorway. “Huh. Do we keep going?”

  I bit my lip, but then nodded. “Better do it now before I lose my cool.” I tapped my hand against the thickness of his parka sleeve. “Come on.”

  I pushed past him and into the dimly-lit hallway. I sensed him move in behind me, presumably also curious to see if we could figure out where that woman had gone. We worked our way down the dim hallway, the feeble lighting playing strange shadows along the floor and walls. Closed doors lined both sides of the hallway, and several of those ugly blue plastic seats were situated here and there.

  Malcolm said, “Does it feel colder?”

  I nodded and then zipped my hoodie up to my chin and flipped the hood up over my hair. “It’s way colder in here than in the other hallway.”

  “So do we try different doors, or what?”

  I shook my head, but then a flash of white down the hall caught my attention. My eyes must have gotten bigger because he stared at me and then focused down the hallway.

  Down near the far end, which ended in a wall with an ugly painting, was an open doorway. The strange woman poked her head out of the doorway, stared at us, and then another one of those bass-like hums rippled down the corridor toward us.

  It was the strangest thing—I could actually see the sound ripple through the hallway, like a slow-motion camera replaying the shockwave from an explosion. Except when the shockwave passed over us, it was just a light flutter of breeze along with a low bass hum, rather than a heavy wind and a thunderclap.

  Once the wave washed over us, I met Malcolm’s eyes. He stared at me and said, “What the hell was that?”

  I shook my head. “I have no idea.”

  We turned together to stare down the hallway toward the strange woman. She was gone, but the doorway she had been standing in was wide open. Sparkly blue light spilled out of it and into the hallway, casting strange shimmers on the floor and wall.

  Malcolm nodded toward the doorway. “Are you sure it’s a good idea to keep going? This is getting pretty messed up.”