A Haunting In Wisconsin

by Michael Richan

  “Are you sure?” Arnie asked.

  Eliza felt anything but sure. She was using all of her emotional strength and Midwestern stalwartness to keep on an even keel while talking with Arnie, but she was far from OK.

  “I’m sure,” she said with a weak smile.

  “Alright,” Arnie replied. “I’ll see you in the morning then.”

  “Sounds good,” Eliza replied.

  Arnie made his way out the garage door, closing it behind him as he went. She found the light switches for the workspace and turned them off, then went back into the main quarters and sat on a couch in the living room.

  Was it really a heart attack? she wondered. The kaleidoscope is gone. Was he killed for it?

  She felt tears welling up.

  And where has Robert gone? I know he’s upset. He must want to be alone.

  The tears began to spill from her eyes, wetting her cheeks.

  I don’t want to be alone, she thought. But here I am. Granger, gone. Robert, gone. Alone.

  She felt herself sob, and decided that now she was by herself, she could let loose. She cried for ten minutes, sitting on the couch.

  He’ll come back here at some point, she thought. He has to sleep.

  They hadn’t eaten on the drive, and she felt hunger pangs in her stomach. She rose from the couch and walked into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator. Nothing looked good.

  I don’t want to eat, she thought. I’m exhausted. I want to rest.

  She wandered to Robert’s bedroom and fell down on the bed, a fresh wave of tears hitting her. The more she thought about Granger or Robert, the more she cried, so she tried to force all thoughts from her mind so she could fall into merciful sleep.

  ●

  She awoke the next morning feeling fine for a few moments, until reality hit her, and fine changed to depressed. She turned to look in the bed; Robert wasn’t there. He hadn’t returned.

  She groggily got up, went to the bathroom, and wandered into the living room, hoping to see Robert on the couch. He wasn’t there either. She walked to the front door and opened it, checking for his car. He hadn’t come home.

  Now she felt worry layer on top of the depression.

  She made some coffee and sat at the kitchen table. The only phone number she had for Robert was here, at his home. She knew of no other way to reach him. She got up and began to pace, wondering what to do.

  The sound of the metal garage doors sliding open in the workspace reached her ears. Arnie’s here, she thought, and walked down the hallway and out the door to the shop.

  “Arnie!” she said, relieved to see another human being.

  “Eliza!” Arnie replied. “Robert here?”

  “He didn’t come home last night.”

  “Damn. I understand he’s upset. We’re all upset. But what’s he thinking, leaving you high and dry?”

  “I have a huge favor to ask,” Eliza said.

  “What is it?” Arnie replied.

  “Can you drive me to the bus station? I need to get back to Spring Green, and I don’t have a car.”

  “Hell,” Arnie replied. “You don’t need the bus. I’ll drive you to Spring Green. I just gotta stop by my house to tell my wife, and that’s on the way out of town.”

  “Oh, thank you, Arnie!” she said, and began to cry again. She felt his big arms wrap around her, consoling her. “I’m sorry I’m crying,” she blubbered. “It’s just Granger, and now I don’t know what’s happened to Robert, and I just feel so alone.”

  “You’re not alone,” Arnie replied, holding her. “I got you. Go on, get your things, let’s get you home.”

  “My suitcase is in Robert’s car,” Eliza said. “So, I haven’t got anything. But I do want to leave a note. Give me a minute?”

  “Sure,” he replied.

  She turned from him and walked back to the living area. She found a pen and scribbled a quick note, which she left in the middle of the kitchen table where it couldn’t be missed.

  Then, they took the hour-long trip to Spring Green together. They didn’t say much, but it didn’t matter to Eliza; she was just grateful Arnie was there. When they reached her ranch, he drove up the long driveway to her home, and dropped her off in front of the large house.

  “Thank you,” Eliza said. “I realize this was a huge chunk of your day.”

  “I’ve been working on that car in Granger’s workshop for six years,” Arnie replied. “Two hours isn’t a huge chunk.”

  She opened the car door and slid out.

  “Eliza?” Arnie said.

  “What?” she asked, bending down so she could see Arnie through the car window.

  “Robert will come around,” he said. “Just needs some time.”

  “Of course,” Eliza replied, smiling at him. “Thanks again, Arnie.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  She turned to look at the house as Arnie backed up. She gave him a wave as he drove off, then she located the hide-a-key and let herself in.

  The place wasn’t trashed, but it wasn’t picked up, either. Her fourteen-year-old brother, Shane, had been enjoying the place to himself while she was gone. She looked over the scattered cans and pizza boxes, knowing she wasn’t going to pick up a single thing, and that when Shane got home from school, she’d ensure he did the cleanup.

  She double-checked a pad on the refrigerator, glancing over her work schedule. Although she’d taken the last few days off sick, today she was scheduled to start at 1. That would give her enough time to eat breakfast and get cleaned up.

  The light on her answering machine was flashing, so she pushed the button, and decided to make some eggs while listening. She was hoping for a message from Robert. Instead there were a couple of solicitations and a call from the school saying Shane hadn’t been in class on Monday.

  She opened the carton. Frustration built inside her, and instead of cracking the egg into a bowl, she threw it into the sink. The shell shattered and the insides ran out, the bright yellow yolk sliding around from the force of the throw.

  The wasted egg slowly slid toward the drain. She picked up another egg and threw it as hard as she could. This time the shells flew out of the sink and the yolk broke, splattering across the side.

  I lost Granger too, she thought. Yes, he’s his son. And yeah, he might need some alone time. But he didn’t need to cut me out completely.

  She felt the tears come again, a mixture of grief for Granger and confusion over Robert. When her father died several years ago, she and Shane had been horribly sad for months, but they had always communicated with each other, using the other for support, never disconnecting or leaving the other person alone. That would have felt like hell.

  Maybe he grieves in a different way, she thought, then hated herself for rationalizing. He didn’t want me around to console him. He left me to find my own way home.

  She looked at the remaining eggs in the carton and realized they were in danger, so she folded the carton closed and tucked it back into the fridge, deciding instead to pour a bowl of cereal.

  He knows how to reach me when he’s ready, she thought as she poured milk.

  She finished the cereal and got cleaned up, hoping work might be a diversion that gave her some mental relief, if only for a few hours.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Charlie had called in sick, so instead of being stationed at the ticket stand or the gift shop, she found herself at a post in The Infinity Room, a 218-foot marvel that stuck out over the edge of the rock, a hundred and fifty feet above the forest floor.

  She vastly preferred this assignment over one of the other monitoring stations deeper in The House on the Rock, which might place her near the automatons or music machines. Although they were fantastic, and people paid good money to see them operate, she found them creepy and disturbing. The Infinity Room was much more peaceful, as tourists walked slowly down the carpeted room, peering out the windows at the Wisconsin landscape, stopping to take a picture at just the right angle so it look
ed like the room went on and on, forever.

  Aside from needing to keep an eye on the tourists, she was grateful it was also a low-effort job, not requiring much in the way of mental energy to successfully complete. Occasionally a child would start running, and she’d step in to stop them, but that was about all the post necessitated. People would usually hang out in the room for a minute or two, take their pictures, and move on to see the marvels that waited deeper in the exhibit.

  Her puffy eyes had done a good job of convincing Lois, her supervisor, that she had indeed been sick. Lois even asked if she was OK enough to come back to work. Eliza had nodded, playing along, saying she thought she could make it through the day. She supposed her weakened appearance was probably why she was given this slow assignment. That, and Lois not wanting Eliza to infect the other workers in the gift shop.

  Unfortunately, being a low-demand assignment, it allowed her time to reflect on what had just happened, and to rethink it over and over. More than once she caught herself on the verge of tears, but pulled herself back, not wanting to cause a scene in front of the tourists or a stray co-worker.

  Loss, she thought. Lyons had mentioned loss, had said I didn’t understand it. I can’t say I understand it now, either, even though I’ve just gone through a huge one, a monumental loss.

  Then she thought of Milton. Talk about loss. The poor man is still up there at his B&B, probably wondering what was going on. We just left things hanging. I need to call him.

  More people walked by, gasping as they entered the room, passing her on their way to explore the scenery. She ignored them, wrapped up in her own mind as she replayed the last several days. She decided to start at the beginning: she remembered the drive up, and walking through the hallway in the dark on that first night, trying not to wake the other guests.

  Damn few to wake up, she thought.

  She remembered going to sleep, and waking to find Abbey and Teresa, Ivan and Mack, all in the breakfast room.

  She stopped. No, that wasn’t quite it. That wasn’t how it had happened.

  Before she and Robert met Abbey and Teresa, she had woken up in bed, and heard a sound at the door. The scraping of Mack’s garden shears, she thought. That’s right, there had been a dream before the dream. I walked to the door, listening to the scraping sound. There had been a blue mist near my feet, coming from under the door.

  The wallpaper ripped. A face emerged; dark hair fell into the room. It turned to look at me. I was terrified, and I closed my eyes.

  She felt a jolt of adrenaline race through her body, shocking her out of her malaise. The details of the face reemerged in her memory. It had been the face of a woman.

  Martha!

  The compulsion to move was strong, so she walked from her station, weaving around a cluster of tourists, making her way to the exit. From there, she crossed behind the exhibits through an employee-only tunnel, emerging at a junction that led to the other buildings of the complex. She made her way to the gift shop, making sure to hunch over a little as she entered. Lois was helping a customer at the fudge counter. As soon as the customer stepped away, Eliza tapped Lois on the shoulder.

  “I just threw up,” Eliza wheezed.

  A horrified look passed over Lois’ face. “In the bathroom?”

  “Of course in the bathroom,” Eliza replied weakly. “But I don’t think it’s over.”

  “Do you need someone to drive you home?” Lois asked, taking a step back from Eliza. “I could arrange for someone to do it if you can’t drive.”

  “I think I can drive,” Eliza replied, coughing and raising her hand to her mouth as though she might upchuck right there by the fudge counter.

  “Go!” Lois said. “And this time, stay home until you’re better!”

  Eliza turned and quickly left the gift shop before Lois could change her mind.

  ●

  Five hours later, she pulled into the driveway of the B&B and grabbed the small bag she’d quickly packed. There was another car out front; Eliza hoped it meant guests for Milton.

  She found him inside, eating dinner at a table in the kitchen. He looked up and smiled as she entered. She placed her bag on the table and sat.

  “You’re back!” he said. “How’d it go? I was kinda thinking I’d get a phone call. You’re solo? No Robert?”

  “No, no Robert,” Eliza replied. “It hasn’t gone well.”

  “Oh, no,” Milton replied, looking down at his plate. “Would you like something to eat? I have more.”

  “No, I’m not hungry,” Eliza replied. “Do you mind if I stay here tonight? Maybe a few more days?”

  “Of course not,” Milton replied. “Did you notice the car in the driveway? First guests I’ve had in a while!”

  “Yes, I saw it,” Eliza replied. “And good! I’m glad.”

  “Do you think they’ll make it more than one night?” Milton asked. “So many left after the first night, with the scraping noises and the smells. I’d give anything if they stayed the full four days they said they were planning on.”

  Eliza dropped into the River, taking a quick assessment of how things stood. No nausea, no sense of tilting. Everything seemed level, and while there was still darkness at the edges, most things were visible. She didn’t see any mist, either.

  She dropped out and turned to Milton. “Things are better than they were,” she said. “Not completely normal, but there’s a chance.”

  “Thank god,” Milton replied. “I might actually have a guest who eats breakfast here rather than race off. Now, you said things aren’t going well? What’s up?”

  “Granger is dead,” Eliza replied, not quite knowing what else to say. She raised her hands as she attempted to think of more, but wound up just dropping them on the table, unable to come up with the right words. Tears began to form again.

  “My god!” Milton replied. “Dead?”

  “Heart attack. He was found yesterday morning.”

  “Oh, it happened while you and Robert were still here?”

  “Yes.”

  “Robert must be devastated.”

  “I’m sure he is.”

  Milton paused, looking at her more closely. “You haven’t talked to him, have you?”

  “No. He ran out just after getting the news, and I haven’t heard from him since.”

  “That doesn’t sound like him…then again, with the sudden loss of his father…oh, I don’t know. Who knows how people process grief.”

  “Yeah,” Eliza replied. “Well, the kaleidoscope that Granger was trying to analyze was stolen.”

  “Was he able to learn anything about it, before…”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Milton paused. “Do you think the heart attack was real? Did someone kill him to get it?”

  “That’s a possibility. No evidence of it, but yeah, maybe.”

  “Wow,” Milton said, leaning back in his chair, his mouth open. He raised a hand to rub at his chin. “Wow.”

  “Yeah,” Eliza replied. “I’ve been thinking about things, Milton. We saw improvements here just after we removed Wanda’s bones from the cesspool; the River weren’t as screwed up after that. They improved again once the kaleidoscope was removed from the property. There’s still something off, something that might be the last piece of the puzzle — and I think it’s why things aren’t quite a hundred percent.”

  “Look at you,” Milton said. “All these terrible events, and you’re still trying to help me.”

  “What am I going to do?” she asked. “Sit at home and cry all day? That’s not me, Milton. I’m not a quitter.”

  “No, I don’t think you are,” he replied. Their conversation paused for a moment before he said, “What do you think is still happening here?”

  “Martha.”

  “Martha?” he repeated. “Wanda’s mother?”

  “Yes. We know she bought the house in 1958, and closed it down after a little while. We never encountered her in any of the dreams. She’s the only player in thi
s story who hasn’t made an appearance. Well…I take that back. She might have appeared.”

  “You saw her?”

  “Maybe. Not in the normal dream that played out for Robert and me each time we slept. I had a nightmare just before that dream, on the first night we were here. I saw a woman coming out of the wall.”

  “Out of the wall?” he repeated, looking at her incredulously. She watched as he involuntarily shook with the willies. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “No. It was as if she was ripping her way through the wallpaper. She leaned through the hole and looked right at me. I remember her hair falling into the room — it was long and black.”

  “Oh!” Milton said, his eyes widening. “Oh, fuck.”

  “What?”

  “I’ve seen her!”

  Eliza looked at Milton; he’d gone white. “You’ve seen her?”

  “Yes.” He gulped.

  “Where?”

  “Well, there were pictures in the attic,” he said. “I don’t know why the guy who remodeled the place kept them. I thought they were creepy and unnerving, so I threw them all out. I remember one was of a woman with long, black hair. It fell past her shoulders.”

  “That matches what I saw,” Eliza replied.

  “I…” Milton said, then paused. “I saw her again, later. It was months after I’d thrown the pictures away. I was cleaning a room, and I had the oddest feeling that I was being watched, that someone was in the room with me. I remember turning around, and I saw someone walk past the open door in the hallway. It was very quick, but I couldn’t help seeing the long dark hair. I knew there was no one staying with us at the time who looked like that, so I walked to the doorway. She was gone. Disappeared, like a ghost.”

  “And you’re sure it was her?”

  “I can only be sure about the hair,” Milton replied. “And that she disappeared. I remember thinking that she looked like the picture I’d seen. It must have made an impression on my mind, before I threw it out. She’s rather striking.”

  “Did you ever encounter her again?”

  “No, not that I know of.”