by Terence West
"I'm really sorry," Chloe said at last. "This is bad, even for Rivers."
Trent was sitting to Chloe's left. He placed his hand on her back. "So Rivers is an asshole. Who cares?"
Jackson nodded. He had his blonde hair tied up in a small ponytail. "Yeah, fuck him. We don't need him anyway."
Carrie was playing with the ice left in the bottom of her glass. She lifted the glass to her mouth and dumped the ice inside. She sucked off a bit of the drink's residual flavor and began to crunch them with her teeth. "Unfortunately," she said after swallowing what was left of the ice, "We do."
"Do what?" Jackson asked.
"Need Rivers," Chloe answered. "This isn't just some taped segment that he can add a voice-over to in post. We are hosting this entire show live from Grant House on Halloween!"
"And that requires a host," Carrie added. She was twirling her curly red hair with her fingers. She looked up over Chloe's shoulder. "There's our two crazies," she said just loud enough for the group to hear.
Chloe spun around in her chair to see Sam and Morgan enter the bar. Sam was dressed in a white t-shirt with a pair of blue jeans and light brown boots. Morgan was decked out in black. She had on a long black skirt that hung to her ankles, a loosely crocheted sweater that you could see her bra through, and a pair of clunky black boots. Her black hair hung straight down around her slim face.
"Sorry we're a little late," Morgan said as they approached the group. "I wanted to take a shower."
"Okay," Chloe said slowly, "but why does that make Sam late?"
"I didn't want to walk here alone, so I made him wait." Morgan answered.
"We left the airport four hours ago," Chloe said sternly. She had no patience for tardy people, especially in the film industry. "How long do you need to take a shower, Morgan?"
"We were talking," Sam replied, with an almost guilty look on his face. "Let's leave it at that. Besides, we're only ten minutes late."
"All right," Chloe said finally. "Let's get this production meeting underway." She motioned for the two to join her at the table. "As most of you know, this will be the first, in hopefully a series, of live episodes of Ghost Chasers, Inc. We'll go live at seven pm eastern standard time tomorrow on October Thirty-first."
"How are we going to coordinate this with the studio?" Trent asked.
Chloe nodded. "The local TV station has rented us one of their satellite trucks for the day. Everything, including the live segments, will be managed from our control room back in California."
"What about delay?" Jackson asked, referring to the satellite delay.
"That shouldn't be a problem," Chloe replied. "Since our host is here, and not back in the studio, we won't have to worry about the lag time between the two. The studio has already produced our custom intro and outro, so all Rivers has to do is remember the out-qs."
"Sounds easy," Trent remarked. "Are we going to use prerecorded segments during the show?"
Chloe nodded. "Carrie has a list of those."
Carrie lifted a small notebook off the table and flipped it open. "We're going to do a history of Stone Brook and the Grant house first. We'll tape that tomorrow morning and send a feedback to the studio so they can edit it." She ran her bright red nails down over the page, "then we'll have a segment on ‘Project Stargate’ that was taped two weeks ago."
Jackson smiled. "I love that movie."
"Not the movie, you idiot," Carrie quickly corrected him, "the military project involving psychics and remote viewing."
Jackson shot Carrie an angry glance.
"We also have another segment on previous haunted houses we've investigated, a short one on the history of this wretched holiday, and one final segment on the vampire that supposedly lived in Highgate Cemetery in England." Carrie put her notepad down. "Basically, your run-of-the-mill Halloween episode."
"But this year, we have a new twist," Chloe said with a devious smile. She thought for a moment, "Let's move the Halloween segment to the end and flip-flop the ghost, vampire and Stargate segments."
Carrie nodded and made the appropriate corrections on her notepad. "I think that's a good idea."
"Chloe," Sam said tentatively, "can you tell me exactly what our role will be?" Sam asked.
"You'll be there, to…" Chloe searched for the words, "bridge the gap between the spirit world and our world."
Carrie let out a quick giggle but quickly tried to contain herself. "Sorry," she said with her hand over her mouth, trying to hold back the laugh.
Ignoring Carrie, Chloe continued. "A police detective that was in the house after the crimes reported seeing a pair of glowing red eyes."
"Very interesting," Sam said. "So we're here to act as mediums?"
"Is that a problem?" Chloe asked, suddenly concerned.
"No," Sam said after a moment.
"Then what?" Chloe asked.
Sam paused. "I, we," he corrected, "have never dealt with malevolent spirits before. The hauntings we've worked have always been, for the most part, harmless. I've never been in a place where they claim ghosts have killed someone."
"Mr. Peters," Carrie cut in, "Are you backing out of our arrangement?
Sam was taken aback by Carrie's statement.
"I seem to recall having to pay a large sum of money in advance to procure your services." She stared at Sam intently. "I would hate to have to ask for that payment back."
"No," Sam replied quickly. "I am definitely not backing out. I am just expressing a reservation of ours." He stopped for a moment to collect his thoughts. "We don't want anyone on this crew to be placed in harm's way."
"Personally," Jackson chimed in, "I hope the ghosts kill Rivers."
Chloe reached over and rapped Jackson on the back of the head with her open palm. "What's wrong with you?"
"The man is a pig," Jackson spat angrily.
"That may very well be," Chloe agreed, "but we don't have a show without him, and you are out of a job."
Jackson slumped back in his small wooden chair. He quickly crossed his arms across his chest, feeling like a child just scolded for stealing a cookie.
"Look," Chloe said after a moment, "This storm has got us all a little unnerved, but the shoot will continue." She looked over the solemn faces of her crew. "I think we all need a good night's sleep, and we'll all feel refreshed in the morning."
"Are you adjourning this meeting?" Jackson asked spitefully.
Chloe nodded. "Lets all meet down in the lobby at six tomorrow morning."
Chloe watched as everyone but Sam and Morgan left the bar. She lifted her beverage off the dented wooden table and took a long drink of its alcoholic contents. After setting down the glass, she ran her hands over her face. "Can I tell you guys a secret?"
"Sure," Morgan replied.
"I don't think we're in any danger from ghosts. This crew is going to kill each other before any ghosts have the chance."
Morgan moved from her stool to a chair next to Chloe. "That's why we need to talk to you."
"Why?" Chloe said curiously.
"We're getting some really bad vibes here." Morgan said seriously.
"Bad vibes?" Chloe echoed. "What are you, a Beach Boys song?"
"I'm not kidding," Morgan argued, slightly perturbed at the director's lack of seriousness.
"We've been sensing it since we arrived here in Stone Brook," Sam took up the conversation.
"Sensing what?" Chloe asked, sitting up in her chair.
"There's something," Sam looked over at Morgan, then back at Chloe, "evil here."
Morgan leaned close to Chloe and lowered her voice. "The shadows breathe."
"I don't understand," Chloe admitted.
"Neither did we, until Morgan saw one."
Chloe looked at Morgan, who looked paler than the actor they had hired to play the vampire in the Highgate piece. "What did you see?"
"It was what I would best describe as a shadow." Morgan began to tap her black fingernails nervously against the table. "It had
no visible features. It just looked like a mass of black with haunting red eyes."
"Oh, my God," Chloe said, "We need to get this on tape. Where's Trent?" She spun around in her seat to see if Trent had already left the bar. "Damn."
"Chloe," Morgan said sternly to get her attention, "I think the crew is in harm's way here."
Chloe looked over at Sam. "What does the master psychic think?"
"I have to agree with my esteemed colleague. I don't feel safe here."
Chloe stood up. "Well, what do you expect me to do? Scrap a live broadcast a day before it's airdate?" She walked around the small table nervously. "Do you realize how much money the network has already sunk into this project?" She ran her hands through her hair. "They would be very upset with me," she concluded.
"I realize the network would be out a chunk of cash," Sam admitted, "but they wouldn't have to worry about a murdered crew."
"Yeah," Morgan said after a minute, "Imagine the wrongful death suit that could be filed. The network could be sued for millions ."
"Okay," Chloe said, "Now you're just bullying me." She leaned over and laid her hands on the table. "I assure both of you, this broadcast will happen. Now, are you in, or are you out?"
Morgan and Sam looked at each other for a long moment. Chloe could've sworn they were communicating telepathically with each other, but she had no way to prove that.
Sam nodded once, and turned his gaze back to Chloe. "In."
Chapter 10
Enbaugh stepped out of his cruiser followed closely by Montoya. He quickly pulled his jacket collar up around his ears and started to walk briskly toward the ambulance. The emergency room entrance of the Stone Brook General Hospital was built ten feet deeper than the outermost wall of the building and had a large overhang covering it. This provided a small measure of protection against Hurricane Katrina. The outside of the hospital was white stucco, with an almost southwestern paint scheme. Trim was painted a greenish blue and an almost pink shade of tan.
The ambulance he was approaching was one of three currently unloading patients. The vehicle was large and blocky, with the traditional white paint job, blue stripe down the side and the red and blue sirens on top. The dual back doors burst open and two EMTs dressed in blue shirts and black pants jumped out. The first, who had a stethoscope hanging around his neck, moved out of the way so his passengers could exit.
Enbaugh watched as Cane, Dawn and Bishop slowly exited. The EMTs pointed toward the emergency entrance and noted that all patients had to check in at the front desk. "I see your little outing went badly."
Cane looked up to see Enbaugh. "Detective," he said, acknowledging him. "To what do we owe the pleasure of this visit?"
Enbaugh shrugged. "I just heard over the radio the three people entrusted to me were heading to the hospital. I thought it would be best to come and check to make sure you weren't dead."
Bishop smiled. "That's very thoughtful of you, Detective."
Montoya stepped around Enbaugh and looked at the three. Cane was nursing a sore back, Dawn had a large white bandage taped to her forehead and one of Bishop's hands was completely wrapped in gauze. "What happened?"
"Occupational hazards," Cane replied. "Now if you don't mind, I need to get my team into the hospital," he looked up at the dark clouds looming overhead, "and out of this storm."
Enbaugh nodded. "Fine by me." He watched the three begin to head for the door. "Mr. Cane, can I have a word with you?"
Cane stopped and turned around. He nodded, then instructed Bishop and Dawn to head inside. Taking a few steps back across the cement, he stopped in front of Enbaugh. "What can I do for you, Detective?"
Enbaugh turned to Montoya. "Will you go make sure they get checked in correctly?"
Montoya nodded.
Enbaugh waited until his partner was well out of earshot to begin. "May I ask what happened at the Grant House?"
Cane thought for a moment. "We encountered some interesting phenomenon."
"Like?"
"Strange magnetic readings, and a hot spot in the middle of the room."
"Was that it?" Enbaugh asked curiously.
"No," Cane said after a moment, "we also found a human heart in the refrigerator."
"What?"
"It was embedded in the center of a birthday cake with the words ‘you will not escape’ scratched into the frosting," Cane reported grimly.
"Did you see any," Enbaugh looked around, then back at Cane, "glowing red eyes?"
Cane shook his head. "No."
"There's definitely something strange going on that house though, right?"
"It's too early to make a judgment call," Cane replied. "We need more investigation time, unfortunately, this storm is really hindering that."
"Are you planning to go back?" Enbaugh asked.
"Yes, first thing in the morning if we can."
"Where are you staying?"
Cane shrugged. "We haven't been to any hotels yet, and we were in such a rush to get here, we didn't have a chance to make reservations."
"There's a nice little place right around the corner from here," Enbaugh said. "While you guys are getting patched up, I'll run over and check you in on the department's tab."
"That's not necessary, Detective," Cane said. "We are able to pay our own way."
"I want to," Enbaugh said. "Look, I was a real ass to you and your group when we first met."
"Yes, you were," Cane agreed.
"I just want to apologize and try to make it up to you."
"Thank you, Detective," Cane replied. "That's most gracious of you."
Enbaugh pulled his fedora down over his eyes and began to walk toward his car.
"Detective," Cane called out.
Enbaugh turned around to acknowledge Cane.
"May I ask what brought on this change?"
Enbaugh thought for a moment, then looked at Cane thoughtfully. "I saw some really weird shit in that house, and I think you're the only ones who can tell me what it was."
Cane nodded. "We are."
Enbaugh turned and stepped into his car. He pulled the door closed and slid his key into the ignition. Turning it over, he heard the engine cough and sputter to life. Leaning back in the seat, he watched Cane turn and start to walk toward the emergency entrance. Leaning over onto the steering wheel, Enbaugh let out a long breath. He felt as if he had just unzipped his fly for the enemy. He watched the rain pelt the windshield for a moment before kicking on the windshield wipers and pulling away from the hospital. He couldn't help wondering if he had done the right thing.
****
The hospital was a mess. The wind was beating against the outer walls while the rain was quickly beginning to seep through the old roof and pool on the floor. The storm had knocked out power for most of the town, leaving the hospital running on generator power only. Most of the power was being routed to the emergency rooms and the ICU, while some was filtering into the rest of the place. Fluorescent lights in the ceiling flickered on and off, while some remained perpetually glowing an eerie blue light. The staff on hand was busy moving patients from one side of the hospital to the other to take advantage of the power situation.
"You've been in the house, Detective Montoya, did you see anything strange?"
Montoya looked across the waiting room at Dawn, who was sitting with her hands clasped in her lap. "I see you are always the investigator."
Dawn nodded with a smile. "Can't help it."
"You should be resting. You may have a concussion," Montoya said seriously.
Dawn dismissed Montoya's worries with a wave of her hand, "I'm fine." She looked at the empty seat next to her. "I wonder how long Bishop's going to be back there?"
"I talked to one of the nurses when we arrived, and she said they were pretty backed up with the storm and all." Montoya leaned forward and adjusted her leather jacket, "Plus, I think they're a bit short-staffed at the moment. Some of the doctors and nurses couldn't make it in tonight–"
"Beca
use of the road closures," Dawn finished.
Montoya nodded slowly. "This is our second major hurricane this year. We haven't even fully recovered from the last one yet."
"I can't imagine it ever feels like you get a break here in Florida."
Montoya nodded, "It seems like just about the time we get cleaned up from the last hurricane season, another one hits us."
Dawn reached up and checked the bandage on her forehead. "You never answered my question, Detective."
"What was that?" Montoya asked coyly.
"Did you see anything in the house?"
Montoya's mind instantly flashed back to the baseball being hurled across the living room by an unseen hand. "I've never seen anything strange."
"What about Detective Enbaugh's claim that he saw a pair of glowing red eyes?"
Montoya shrugged. "I can't speak for the Detective, but I know he has been under a lot of stress lately."
"I don't–"
"I said, he's been under a lot of stress lately." Montoya reiterated
An uncomfortable silence fell between the two.
"Okay," Dawn said after a moment.
"Trick-or-treat!"
Dawn and Montoya both turned to see four small children standing in front of them. They were all dressed in Halloween costumes. One was dressed as a bumblebee with a yellow and black striped sweater, while another was swathed in brown fur looking like a teddy bear. Others were clothed in the blue hospital scrubs of the hospital.
Dawn inspected the group as a frown crossed her face. "I'm sorry, I don't have any candy."
Montoya reached into her jacket pocket and retrieved a handful of gold wrapped candies. "Here you go." She began dropping a few in each of the children's bags.
