Phantoms

by Terence West

  She glanced down at the monitor showing Trent's video feed. She could see Dawn and Bishop standing uncomfortably inside the house being attended to by Carrie. Each was taking turns glancing behind them as Carrie straightened up their wardrobe. She couldn't blame them. She was glad she was out in the garage rather than in the house itself. Several bars of static ran down Trent's feed. She reached up and cued her mic. "We've got a little interference, Trent. See if you can't lock it down."

  "Check," came Trent's reply over her headset. His voice sounded confident, strong. She wondered what must be going through his mind. Not only was he stuck in the house, but he also had to look at everything through the narrow lens of the camera. If something were sneaking up behind him, he would never know until it was too late. She shuddered. Maybe it was better that way. She had seen those… things in the house. Best to die quickly. She mentally scolded herself for thinking that.

  She watched the snow clear up from the monitor. "That's better. What was wrong?"

  "I think this camera got a little damaged earlier. Just had to jiggle some wires."

  Chloe took a deep breath. "Okay. Keep an eye on it."

  "You got it, boss lady," Trent replied cheerfully.

  "Dawn, Bishop?" Chloe asked.

  She watched Dawn and Bishop both reach a hand up to their individual headsets and look into the camera. "What's up, Chloe?" Bishop asked.

  "Just checking the connection," she said after a moment. She took another deep breath. "Are you two alright?"

  They nodded and smiled. Bishop quickly gave the camera the thumbs up. "Good as gold, Chloe."

  "Good," she said with relief. "Stay focused and have a good show. We're live in one minute." She glanced over at the third monitor to see the credits rolling on the previous program. It was just a matter of seconds now. She heard the garage door begin to rise. Poking her head out of the booth, she watched Rivers and Jackson charge in out of the storm. She rushed angrily to meet them. "You're late," she accused.

  "I know," Rivers said with his trademark smile. "We have a good excuse though." He reached over to Jackson and spun him around.

  Chloe looked in horror at the four deep scratches in his back. "What happened?"

  "No time for the whole story," Rivers said as he walked confidently toward the house. "Short version: phantoms attacked, we ran, Morgan saved the day."

  "What?" Chloe asked in shock. "Our Morgan?"

  Rivers nodded as he walked up the steps to the house. "One and the same."

  "I don't–"

  "No time," Rivers said, glancing down at his watch, "gotta show to do."

  Chloe nodded, then glanced over at Jackson. "Are you okay?"

  Jackson nodded. "I'll be fine."

  "Good," Chloe said with a smile. "You're on sound tonight."

  "Where's Chris?"

  Chloe shook her head. She didn't have time, or the heart, to tell him. She pointed to a small pile of equipment in the corner. "There's his stuff. Get moving."

  Jackson, without hearing a word, understood. He bent down and scooped Chris’ equipment off the floor. Slipping the black headphones over his ears, he nodded at Chloe, then made his way into the house.

  Chloe quickly rushed back to her booth. "You ready, Jimmy?" she asked her board op.

  The man nodded. His fingers were already poised at the controls and his brow was glistening with nervous sweat.

  She patted the grizzled tech on the back. "Everything check out?"

  He looked up at Chloe with a cigarette butt dangling from his lower lip. "It's as good as it's going to get," he said with his "four pack a day" voice.

  "Stay close," she advised. "We may need a quick fix."

  The tech nodded as he moved out of the booth. Pulling out the small folding chair, Chloe slid down behind the table. She placed both hands flat on the table and closed her eyes for a moment. She quickly ran a prayer through her head, then slowly exhaled. It was going to be a long night, she just knew it. She reached over and angled a small microphone toward herself. "What's the time, Daniels?" she asked, addressing the second monitor.

  Daniels’ face appeared in the small television screen. "We are twenty-two seconds from go time. Everything good on your end?"

  Chloe nodded. "Give me the signal," she said.

  Daniel held up five fingers in front of the camera.

  Chloe quickly hit her headset mic. "We are go in," she waited for Daniels to start counting down, "five seconds. Four… three… "she continued the count silently in her head. Turning to the first monitor, she watched the show's opening graphics spill onto the screen with footage they had shot earlier in the day edited together. The music swelled and it rolled into the opening credits. She keyed her mic again. "We are going to Rivers in four seconds." She watched Trent's monitor quickly swing around the living room to focus on Rivers and just barely catching Carrie dashing out of the way. He was standing motionlessly in the center of the living room with one hand in his pant pocket and the other bent slightly in front of him. That stance always reminded Chloe of Rod Serling coming out to introduce the weekly episode of the "Twilight Zone" with a cigarette in his hand. "Camera one," she said with a deep breath, "we're live."

  Trent hit the switch on his camera, flipping the red light on the top of it. It was the universal signal actors and newsmen used to determine what camera to look at, and if they were on the air.

  Rivers straightened up and smiled broadly. While on the way over, he had time to fix his mussed hair slightly and straighten the black suit he was wearing. His dark red tie was cinched up tightly around his neck and his enunciation was impeccable. He was ready. He counted two seconds silently in his head, then launched into his opening.

  "Good evening and welcome to a special Halloween edition of Ghost Chasers, Incorporated," he said in his full-blown broadcaster voice.

  ****

  "Overlay the graphic," Chloe said slowly. She glanced over at the first monitor to see an orange and purple Halloween computer graphic roll onto the screen with a glowing jack-o'-lantern and Rivers’ name on it. "Give him six seconds, then peel off the graphic."

  ****

  I'm Rivers Gallows and we're bringing you this episode live from a supposedly haunted residence in Stone Brook, Florida," he said matter-of-factly. Rivers slowly started to walk around the living room with Trent panning with him. He wanted to give the viewers a look at the house. "A usually sleepy town near St. Petersburg, recently this town has had a rash of strange occurrences, and several murders in the midst of the especially violent Hurricane Katrina."

  Chloe hit the mic on the desk. "Cue the first segment," she instructed Daniels. Turning to the first monitor, she watched as Rivers’ image faded into the pretaped first segment. It was a short history of Stone Brook they had cobbled together that morning. Dominic Jameson, a fantastic radioman back in L.A., had done all the voice-over work for the episode. Chloe tapped her headset, "We're back in two minutes. Good work, Rivers."

  She watched as Rivers bowed into the camera. "Did you expect anything less?"

  Chloe smiled. It was good to know he was in full broadcast mode tonight. "When we come back from this segment, talk about what we're going to be doing tonight, introduce Bishop and Dawn, and then send us to commercial break."

  Rivers nodded. "Time?"

  "You have a minute twenty remaining," Jimmy replied from his position at the board. In front of him, he had the master clock–a list of what time everything started, including commercial breaks–and a stopwatch. He was anxiously watching the seconds tick away on the first segment.

  Chloe looked up to see Stephen's face appear on the second monitor. "Chloe?"

  "Yeah, Stephen?"

  "Good stuff," he said with a smile. "Looks great so far. Keep up the good work."

  "Thanks, Stephen," Chloe said modestly.

  "I'll get out of Daniels’ way so he can work."

  "Thanks again, Stephen." It was good to know he was checking in on the broadcast. At least that w
as a good sign. She knew, however, his mood would be somewhat darker when she returned to Hollywood with part of her crew dead. She quickly ran her hand through her hair. What was she thinking? Major movie productions are completely shut down if one person is accidentally killed, and here we are with three deaths, and we're still on the air…

  "Thirty seconds, Ms. Andrews," Jimmy said.

  She tapped her headset. "Did you hear that?"

  Rivers pressed his finger against his the small clear speaker in his ear and nodded at the camera. Turning to Dawn and Bishop, he made sure he knew their last names. There was nothing more unprofessional than forgetting someone's name on the air. He might look like a bit of a dork asking before he went on the air, but he was better safe than sorry. He nodded at their reply and said their full names silently three times. He had a pretty good memory for terms and technique, but when it came to names, he was horrible. He often wondered how he remembered his own name most days.

  Chloe watched the fist monitor go black for a second, then the special live Ghost Chasers logo appeared on the screen with more of Dominic Jameson's voiceover work. "I love that man's voice," Chloe said to Jimmy. She pressed a button on her headset. "We're back in five, Rivers."

  Rivers watched the red light appear above the camera. "This town has seen its share of experts in the last few days, and we're privileged to have two of them here. He walked slowly toward his guests. "It's my pleasure to introduce Dawn Lassiter and Nick Bishop of the Office of Paranormal Research, better known as the OPR. Dawn, Nick, welcome to Ghost Chasers, Inc.”

  Dawn and Bishop nodded at Rivers. They had been instructed not to look directly into the camera as Rivers did. It was only acceptable for the host to do so when directly addressing the home audience. They were to talk to Rivers only while on the air.

  "Thank you, Rivers," Dawn said cordially.

  "Tell me a little about the Office of Paranormal Investigation," Rivers prompted.

  "Certainly," Dawn said with a smile. "The OPR is a privately funded organization based out of Washington D.C. with the one goal of meticulously researching paranormal phenomenon. We're trying to take the ‘super’ out of ‘supernatural'." She smiled broadly at her own cleverness.

  "What sort of thing does the OPR investigate?" Rivers wondered.

  "Anything that can't be easily explained by mainstream science," Dawn explained. "Ghosts, lake monsters, UFOs, that sort of thing."

  Rivers nodded and turned to the camera. "A little later in the program, Dawn and Nick will be taking us through the house as we search for the source of the haunting, but right now, we have to take a commercial break. Stay tuned, there's more of this special live Halloween edition of Ghost Chasers, Incorporated coming up." Rivers ended with a very serious look on his face that remained until the red light blinked off. It was then that Rivers’ posture slumped over and he dug into his suit pocket for his pack of cigarettes. "How long do we have, Chloe?"

  "Three and a half minutes in the commercial break, then another seven minutes for the second recorded segment."

  "Good," Rivers said as he lit his cigarette. "I'm getting out of this house for a minute. What's the second segment?"

  "It's," Chloe paused, looking for the information, "a segment about the previous haunted houses we've investigated."

  "And then?" Rivers asked.

  "We have the ‘Highgate Vampire’ story we taped about two weeks ago."

  "Why did we wait so long to air the vampire segment?" Rivers wondered as he took a puff from his cigarette.

  "Stephen felt it would be perfect for the Halloween episode."

  "Okay," Rivers said as he exhaled the gray smoke from his lungs. "I'm coming out there for a minute."

  Carrie stepped out from behind Trent and Jackson and tapped Rivers’ coat pocket. "Can I bum a smoke?"

  Rivers nodded. He didn't usually share his cigarettes (the fact of the matter was that Rivers never shared his "precious" cigarettes), but this was a special occasion. He lifted his black, metal lighter out of his pocket and lit it. Carrie leaned over and took a long drag off the flame, sucking the thick smoke into her lungs. A look of relief passed over her face as the nicotine hit her blood stream. "Let's get out of here." He turned to look at Dawn and Bishop. "You coming?"

  The two nodded and followed the crew into the garage.

  "So far so good," Bishop said with a smile.

  Dawn nodded. "It seems oddly quiet at the moment."

  They failed to notice the two pairs of red eyes watching them silently from the staircase.

  Chapter 27

  "So far so good," Chloe addressed her crew. They had all gathered in front of her during the short break to get away from the house, although most of them realized, none better than Bishop, Rivers and Jackson, the phantoms could strike anywhere, let alone in the house. Jackson had seated himself on a small stack of milk crates and was doing his best to nurse his back while Rivers and Carrie were busy chain-smoking. Trent, Bishop and Dawn were all standing in front of Chloe listening to every word. "I'm very happy with the show so far." She glanced down at her stopwatch. They had almost five minutes remaining in the break. "Let's get back into the house and get ready."

  "Where do want us to start?" Dawn asked.

  "I'm really not sure," Chloe admitted. "I was thinking the upstairs, because that's where the Grants were killed, but then I thought that might be a little to grisly. Opinions?"

  Dawn nodded. "I think we should work our way up to the second floor, after all, no one's been up there since the coroner had to collect the Grants’ bodies. We have no idea of what we'll find."

  "I–"

  All heads snapped to the right to see the garage door slowly lifting up. A general wave of anxiety passed over the group as they watched.

  "That's it," a feminine voice yelled from under the door. Montoya finally revealed herself after the door was up. Stepping inside, she shook the rain off her coat and hair and walked quickly toward Chloe. The group could see several squad cars positioned outside with their lights flashing through the storm.

  "What's going on?" Dawn asked, intercepting Montoya.

  "He's dead."

  "Who?"

  Montoya stopped and looked Dawn in the eye. "Jack."

  Dawn gasped.

  "We found him dead at the hospital twenty minutes ago. His heart had been ripped out of his chest," Montoya said gravely. Everyone could tell this was killing her, but she was determined to stay strong. "He was found in Kelley's room, but she was missing."

  Bishop stepped forward. "Kelley's gone?"

  Montoya nodded. "We found traces of her blood on the bed, but that could be from previous injuries. The lab boys are checking it out right now." Montoya stepped around Dawn and faced Chloe. "I'm shutting you down."

  Chloe tore off her headset. "You can't do that. We have permission from the mayor to film here. Plus, we're in the middle of our live broadcast. You can't take us off now."

  Montoya's face remained unchanged. "Watch me." She pulled a yellow envelope from beneath her arm and tore it open. Pulling out three white documents, she cleared her throat and began to read. "As of October thirty-first, Stone Brook hereby rescinds all filming licenses granted locally or by the state, by orders of the Chief of Police, and the Mayor." Montoya handed the papers to Chloe. "Read them if you want to. It's all there in black ink."

  Chloe stared angrily at the pages. "Son of a bitch!" she shouted angrily. Tossing the papers to the ground, she stepped into Montoya's face. "I will not pull the plug on this broadcast. We're going live on the air in one minute."

  "No you're not," Montoya countered. Grabbing Chloe by the shoulder, she spun her around and pinned her arms behind her back. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a heavy silver pair of handcuffs and snapped them tightly around Chloe's wrists. "I am placing you under arrest."

  "Now hold on just a damned minute," Carrie cut in. "You can't just bust in here and arrest our director. We have a show to do. Millions of dollars i
n sponsorships are on the line here. We can't just stop in the middle and say ‘oops, sorry. We're bad'."

  "I'm afraid that's exactly what you're going to have to do," Montoya said solemnly. "This is for your own good. I'm advising everyone to get the hell away from this house and find a nice, safe place to hide for the night. I don't want to see your bodies in the morgue tomorrow morning." Montoya turned and started to push Chloe toward the open garage door. "You all have five minutes to clear out. If you're not out in that time, my men will come in here and arrest every single one of you."

  "Caroline," Dawn said as she stepped forward, "wait a minute. Why are you doing this?"

  Montoya stopped then turned to face Dawn. She kept one of her hands firmly around Chloe's handcuffs. "This is not open for debate, Dawn."

  "I realize that," Dawn conceded. "I just want to talk. Friend to friend."

  "Not now," Montoya said with a forced smile.

  "I'm sorry about Detective Enbaugh. He was a good man, but I lost one of my closest friends here today as well. Cane died earlier in the house."

  "Doesn't that make you want to get as far away from this place as you can?"

  Dawn nodded. "Yes it does, but I have a job to do."

  "To film this television program?" Montoya asked cynically.

  "No, to stop the killings." Dawn leaned close to Montoya. "We know why they're here, and we know how to stop them."

  Montoya's hopes began to rise, but she quickly beat them back down into her chest. She would love to have revenge on those bastards, but that wasn't the point. "At what cost, Dawn? The lives of the crew? Bishop? When is it going to end?"