Aquarius: Haunted Heart

by Sèphera Girón

  “Fair enough. And yes, I felt things too, so I know there was some sort of activity. Hey, record me making a statement about it.”

  Madeline aimed the camera at Jake while he explained what psychic phenomenon was and how he had just witnessed it firsthand.

  “Of course, in the end, you have to judge for yourself what you’ve seen. And since you weren’t here to experience it for yourself, you’ll never truly know,” Jake said.

  “That sounds a bit pompous,” Madeline said, lowering the camera to talk to him.

  “How do you mean?”

  “Well, like, ‘I’m here and you’re not, so suck it up’ pompous.”

  “What should I say?”

  Madeline sighed. “You’re on the right track. Just say you’re lucky to be here to experience it for yourself and leave it at that.”

  “Okay.”

  Madeline held the camera again while Jake recorded another sound bite. This time he softened his tone. Madeline grinned, realizing he had actually taken her suggestion.

  “Much better,” she said when they were done. She looked down the hallway. Misty forms wriggled and twisted near the ceiling, hugging the walls. She couldn’t see faces anymore, but their anxiety seeped toward her.

  “Yep, they’re still here.”

  “Still?” Jake said with a nod.

  “Still.”

  They looked at each other; his eyes glistened in the dim light of the flashlights. Madeline yearned for him to hug her, to hold her close. She was scared shitless, and a warm, strong hug would go a long way toward calming her down. But Jake made no move to do anything but turn away.

  “Let’s go,” he said.

  They continued on until they came to one last door. It was locked.

  “Let’s go back,” Madeline said.

  Jake shook his head. “I want to go in.”

  “Why? It’s the same as the others.” Madeline could feel the urgency of the ghosts rising. Agitation coursed through her, and she really didn’t want to go into the room.

  “Maybe. I don’t know. I just have a feeling about this room,” Jake insisted.

  Madeline raised her eyebrow. “Who’s the witch now?”

  “Not a witch. But I’ve always been rather perceptive,” Jake said.

  “It’s because you’re a Scorpio,” Madeline said. “You water signs are naturally intuitive.”

  Yet the ghosts were harassing her, not him. They were tugging on her, almost as if some of them were trying to push her through the door while just as many were trying to hold her back.

  “Stand back,” Jake said.

  He kicked in the door. It flew open with a crash. Jake stepped into the room, shining his light around. Madeline had put her hands over her eyes, not wanting to know what might be in there. Slowly, she uncovered her eyes. There were no ghosts. There were no madmen with axes. No noise.

  “You tell me this room isn’t different from the others,” Jake said. Madeline nodded as she entered and shined her flashlight around. The room was not at all like the others.

  This room was clean. It had a table and two chairs. Over on a counter by an old-fashioned sink were several stacks of clean dishes. Madeline walked toward the dishes. They only had a light coating of dust on them.

  “You sure the crew didn’t come in here and clean up a bit?” she asked as she examined the rest of the room. The bed was neatly made with a blue blanket and crisp white sheets. Several large bottles of water were lined along one wall. Madeline went to the closet. Trembling, she opened it.

  She gasped as she saw several doctors’ smocks and shirts hanging inside. She touched one and held the beam of the flashlight on it.

  “There’s no dust on this,” she said, her eyes wide as panic started to course through her.

  “No. He’s here, then. After all this time,” Jake said.

  Madeline looked at the dresser and opened one of the drawers. Instead of clothes, there were dozens of surgical instruments neatly stacked upon each other. Scalpels, clamps, knives and even a box of latex gloves.

  “Maybe we shouldn’t be here,” Madeline said. She opened another drawer and found several large rolls of plastic wrap and duct tape. With a gasp, she shut it again. “Either we’re on the set of Dexter, or we’re looking at something really bad.”

  Jake put his hands on his hips and stared around the room.

  “Well, shit. Something is going on here. Come on.” He headed toward the door that led to another room attached to the one they were in. He pulled on the handle.

  It was locked. He tried to kick it open, but this door was made of sturdier material. He shined the flashlight along the door.

  “Looks like a steel-reinforced door. Maybe this was a solitary confinement cell. But it’s weird it would be here, like this,” Jake said.

  “What do you think?” Madeline asked, although she already had her own suspicions.

  “Let’s go back and see if there are any tools I can use to open this thing. I don’t want to break my foot.”

  “Sure,” Madeline said.

  They returned down the corridor. As they walked, Madeline noticed something on the floor in the distance. “What’s that?” she asked as she pointed at it.

  “Looks like a pile of rags,” Jake said.

  “No, it’s clothes,” Madeline said. “Look.”

  They stared at the pile of clothes.

  “Maybe we just didn’t notice them on the way in because we were so distracted,” Madeline said.

  “No, we would have noticed a pile of clothes in the middle of the hallway. I’m pretty sure of that,” Jake said.

  “Well, what?” Madeline asked.

  “I don’t know. Who knows anything?” Jake said.

  They continued on a little farther and found something shiny lying on the floor.

  “It looks like a compact mirror,” Madeline said.

  “It’s not very dirty. It’s as if it was just dropped. It’s not yours?” Jake asked.

  Madeline laughed. “No.”

  “Someone must be following us.”

  “Or maybe someone else was filming in here too.”

  “But we’re supposed to be doing this ward, not anyone else.”

  “Hey, it’s a free country last I checked,” Madeline said.

  “Yes, it is.” Jake nodded.

  Chapter Thirteen

  You may be facing a difficult path.

  At last, they returned to the main crew room. Jake asked a PA to get a few tools for him. “Hey, didn’t that food come yet?” he asked, looking around the tables for breakfast. While Madeline was rummaging through the coolers, she listened to Jake and Sam.

  “No. Damn idiot probably got lost or is out chasing some chick. It’s so hard to find a good PA.”

  “I guess,” Jake said. Madeline looked at her watch. It seemed odd that the PA wasn’t back yet. Even allowing for getting lost, it still had been at least three hours. Jake went over to where Sam sat at one of the monitor tables.

  “I’m watching that footage of you and Madeline in the tunnel last night. It’s fucking awesome,” Sam said, pointing at one of the screens. He had already started to splice together a few of the different camera angles.

  “Look at this,” he said, freezing the frame. Jake looked at the screen and waved Madeline over.

  “Madeline, what do you think all this is about?” Jake asked.

  Madeline stared at the screen. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. There was a dimly lit photo of her and Jake. Dozens of strands of lights were coming from the areas where the thin, white glow of their auras touched. Madeline wanted to sketch the image.

  “I think that’s our aura,” Madeline said.

  “What, no ghosts?” Jake asked. “Come on.”

  “No, I don’t think those are ghosts,” Madeline said.

  The screen went dark for a moment, and then another picture popped up.

  “How about this?” Sam asked. “Surely this is something?”

&nbs
p; Madeline could hardly keep herself from laughing. The picture showed Madeline and Jake walking through the tunnel. Streams of orange and pink were branching from them like tree limbs.

  “Those are auras again,” she said. “Just plain old auras. Funny.”

  “What do they mean? All those rainbow colors?”

  “Well, let’s just say they show enthusiasm. Which we had while we were trying to figure out some of the dark secrets of this place.”

  “And we still have it. Don’t kid yourself,” Jake said. Madeline chuckled. If only Jake knew that even she understood the auras represented the flood of sexual energy that wavered between them.

  “Can you use such shots for your book?” Sam asked her.

  “Pardon me?” Madeline asked.

  “Jake here said you write books about all this stuff. That’s one reason he pushed for you.”

  “Well, I am an author, yes. I’m always looking for stuff for books. I would love to have some of those shots.”

  “Consider it done,” Sam said, winking at her.

  “Why, thanks.” Madeline looked again at the picture of her and Jake and the unmistakable bands of pink and orange joining them. The idea of their light energy intertwining so effortlessly made her warm all over.

  “Hey, Jake,” Doug said. “I haven’t seen Diana for a couple of hours. She’s not on any of the cameras, and she won’t answer her walkie-talkie.”

  “Where was she last seen?”

  “I think they said she went through a door that wasn’t on the cameras.”

  “Well, that’s no help. There are a million doors that aren’t on camera. We’re only filming in a tiny part of the hospital.” Jake sighed.

  “It’s pretty scary in there alone,” Doug said.

  “But that’s what she wanted or she would have stayed with her partner. Though she really shouldn’t go into those abandoned areas. Some of them are unstable,” Jake said.

  “Should we go look for her?” Madeline asked.

  Jake looked at his watch. “No, there’s no point just yet. Let’s wait until noon. If she doesn’t come back for lunch, we’ll hunt her down,” Jake said.

  Madeline shrugged. If Diana was lost, she’d have to stay lost a little while longer. She smirked, even though she knew it was mean.

  Jake gathered up the tools and found two more large flashlights. Madeline double-checked her camera batteries and discovered it was time to change them. It never failed to amaze her how quickly the batteries died in haunted buildings.

  Madeline and Jake hurried down the hallway. She dreaded passing the ghostly brigade once more and was relieved not to see them. At least, if they were there, they weren’t showing themselves to her, and that suited her just fine.

  When they returned to the final door, they were surprised to find it locked again.

  “Did you pull it shut behind you?” Jake asked.

  “No. I’m positive I didn’t.”

  “Then someone must have come along and shut it.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Well, here we go again.” Jake stepped back and then lunged forward, kicking the handle. It opened as easily as before. He walked into the room.

  “Nothing,” he said.

  “Well, what did you expect?”

  “Something. Anything.”

  “Well, that door is still locked, isn’t it? Now you get to try out all your manly tools.”

  “You find my tools manly?”

  “But of course,” Madeline mocked. “Who wouldn’t find your door-unlocking tools manly?”

  Jake put the toolbox down in front of the door and began to rummage through it.

  “I don’t know how to jimmy doors, but I’ll give it a good shot,” he said.

  The atmosphere dampened to a thick chill. Madeline jumped up and down, waving the beam of the flashlight toward the door. Jake kneeled, trying one type of screwdriver after another. She didn’t pay much attention to what selection of tools he used as she kept an eye out for ghosts or something more.

  Diana must be scared shitless wandering around this place by herself. Once they got the door unlocked, she would suggest to Jake that they go find her. Waiting ’til noon wasn’t fair if she was lost or freaked out.

  Maybe she had tripped and banged her head and was out cold somewhere?

  Madeline shook her head. Jake would think she was neurotic if she showed too much concern. She was supposed to be a tough ghostbuster, not a scaredy cat. And Diana wanted to be tough too, which was why she was alone in the first place.

  Still, something didn’t feel right. An uneasy sensation whenever she thought about Diana spread along her thighs and across her belly. As she concentrated on it more, she realized the pain was growing stronger, burning like an inflamed rash.

  “How’s it going?” she asked.

  “I think I got it.” Jake stood up and kicked open the door. They steadied their flashlights inside and could barely contain their screams.

  The room was red. Sickeningly, repulsively red. Madeline fought the urge to throw up as the rancid stench of rotting meat was released. Jake held the flashlight out away from him, trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

  The walls glistened with dripping red liquid. Plastic sheets had been taped along the floor, up the walls, nearly to the ceiling. In the center of the room was a steel hospital bed. A bloody, pulpy pile of flesh and ropes lay on top of it.

  “Oh my God,” whispered Jake. As he walked closer, his face shifted to horror.

  “It’s that missing PA. Oh my God.” Jake turned his face away. Madeline studied the mess before her. The lower half of the man’s body had been cut open. Even she could see that organs were missing. His blood had stopped running, but she noticed there were troughs underneath the bed. She pointed the flashlight down and saw the troughs ran off to a single hose that led toward the wall. She followed the hose and knew then what the altar of bloody water was all about.

  “This is madness,” she said. “We’d better get out of here.” Jake nodded, his face ashen.

  “Why is there so much blood?” he finally said, aiming his flashlight at the walls. Madeline did the same. The wall was covered in blood, and that blood was swirled around into images. Ghostly images of faces crying out. As she stared at the murals, she realized some of the ghosts were seeping out of the walls. The man’s ghost had joined the anguished faces already swirling in the eternal maelstrom. His eyes were hollow, his mouth opened in an eternal yowl. Madeline’s body vibrated with their pain; mostly with the man’s fresh pain of flesh violation and astonishment of his quick and ugly demise.

  “Some of that is paint. I’d bet my life on it,” Madeline said. She shined the flashlight along the floor, and sure enough, there were several empty cans of red paint tipped on their sides. “I guess he fancies himself an artist, creating images with blood and paint.”

  Madeline pointed her flashlight back up again, studying the multihued swirls that created screaming faces along the walls. Agitation raced up and down her spine. Her feet anxiously tapped the floor as an anxiety not of her making flooded through her blood.

  “Come on, we have to get out of here.” Madeline pulled at Jake’s arm. Urgency was coursing through her full throttle. “Now.”

  Jake was shaken from his paralyzed staring. He had been unable to stop looking at the walls, at the PA, and then back to the walls, his flashlight bobbing back and forth like a metronome.

  “I can’t believe it...” Jake muttered as they left the room. Madeline hurried out the door.

  “Which way?” she asked. Her mind was spinning, and she could barely remember where she was.

  “I don’t know.” Jake sighed in defeat. “Where should we go?”

  “We should look for Diana, that’s what we should do,” Madeline said as she turned on her headset.

  “Oh my God, you’re right,” Jake said. He took out his walkie-talkie.

  “Hello?” he called.

  A voice answered. “Jake?”
/>   “Yes. It’s Jake.”

  “We were wondering when you’d check in. Neither you nor Madeline have your communication devices turned on. We lost you once you left the main room.”

  “We turned them off. But now we’re back.”

  “Glad to hear it.”

  “Has Diana come back yet?” Jake asked.

  “No.”

  “Have you heard from her or seen her?”

  There was a pause.

  “No,” came the response. “No one has seen or heard from her.”

  “Dammit,” Jake said to Madeline. “Where was she last seen?” He asked the voice on the walkie-talkie.

  “She was on the third floor, and then she went down the hallway of the east wing. The cameras aren’t set up in there.”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Jake said. “We’re going to look for her.”

  “Okay.”

  He turned to Madeline.

  “What’s the best way, I wonder?” he asked.

  “I guess the stairs might be that way.” Madeline pointed down the hallway.

  They walked quickly, trying not to make noise, trying even more to listen for noise.

  “Should we call her?” Madeline asked as they pushed the door to the stairwell open.

  “No. That killer is still around here somewhere. We don’t want him to know she’s alone.”

  “Right.”

  They ran up the stairs, Madeline’s calves screaming in protest. A sharp pain jabbed up her left leg.

  “Oh for Christ’s sake,” she cried.

  “What?” Jake asked.

  “Nothing. It’s okay. Just a leg cramp.”

  “Not more ghosts?”

  “Not just yet,” she said. “Somehow, I just know we’re going to see them again.”

  She thought about the ghosts in the murder room. Were they all the ghosts of the victims or the ghosts she had encountered earlier? Or were they all the same ghosts?

  They pushed their way through the doors on the third floor. Madeline saw that her camera light was blinking.

  “Damn. My battery is dying,” she said. Jake looked at his camera.

  “Mine too. We should change them.”

  “But what if Diana...?”