Enter If You Dare

by Alyson Larrabee

  “Okay, let’s try it. Let’s contact Daniel.”

  “Great.” Nathaniel smiles. “First I have to put Jeff out in the van. He hates ghosts.”

  Jeff lifts his head and growls suspiciously at Nathaniel.

  “It’s okay, buddy. Nothing bad’s gonna happen.”

  After this reassurance, the dog stands up and starts barking. Nathaniel shushes him and gestures for him to go with Wyatt.

  “Go on, boy. Follow Wyatt.”

  Jeff obeys and together they lope out to the van, which is parked under a single streetlight, next to the curb in front of Oliver’s house. Standing at the window, I stare into the darkness and watch as the giant beast climbs into the van and offers one more bark of protest before he quiets and Wyatt comes back inside.

  Behind me in the living room, Oliver turns off the lights. The fire’s our only source of illumination. Enthroned in his electric wheelchair, Nathaniel sits with the flames at his back, Wyatt to his right and me to his left. Oliver and Jackson complete our circle. The logs in the fireplace crackle and shudder as the hellish spikes devour them. Lit from behind by the glowing flames, Nathaniel’s curls form a halo around his shadowed face. He looks like an angel from Hell.

  In a solemn voice he begins.

  “Wyatt, focus inward and think about how it felt to let someone else in. Where did you go?”

  “I was here but not here, gone but not completely gone. Even though I possessed none of my five senses, I was aware of what was happening and what was being said.”

  “How did you feel?”

  “I wasn’t inside my body. I felt like fog. Like an icy mist. Then finally like snow. But the cold didn’t affect me because I wasn’t inside of my skin. He was.”

  Wyatt’s pupils roll up and disappear. I lean across Nathaniel, coming part way out of my chair. Nathaniel touches my wrist and warns me with his eyes, so I sit back down but still lean forward, toward Wyatt.

  His eyes open wider. With only the whites showing, they look like small shiny half moons in his ashen face. Wyatt’s mouth grows slack and falls open. Then he slumps down in the chair, completely limp. His head lolls to the side. I realize his soul has left his body and I jump up. Nathaniel grabs my wrist.

  Alarmed by the sight of this horrifying transformation, I start toward the door. I’m desperate to quit this nightmare. Nathaniel’s grip tightens, reminding me I can’t abandon Wyatt. Wherever he is. When Nathaniel finally lets go of me, I collapse back into the chair.

  Suddenly, he speaks. Rather it speaks, using Wyatt’s voice.

  “I want to touch her.”

  “Annabelle, switch seats with Oliver. It’s okay. You’re safe and so is Wyatt.”

  Nathaniel gives instructions with an assuredness I suspect he doesn’t feel.

  With a nod of his head he sends a calm look at Oliver who appears to be very freaked out.

  Oliver and I follow his directions and trade seats. Now he’s on Nathaniel’s left and I’m on Wyatt’s right, except Wyatt isn’t Wyatt anymore. He turns to me, his eyes sunken into the dark hollows of their sockets. Thousands of prickly goose-bumps swarm over my skin and I shiver. Wyatt reassures me in a voice that seethes up from his throat and out of his mouth.

  “I won’t hurt you, Annabelle,” he hisses.

  Feeling like I’m in the presence of a monster, I’m both revolted and petrified at the same time. I want to run so badly that my feet are twitching. But then I remember the tragic story of young Daniel and strive for self-control.

  “I know, but I’m still scared.” Seeking reassurance, I look at Nathaniel. He looks intensely serious but still calm.

  “He wants to be near you, Annabelle, so you should ask the questions. It’s all right. I’m here to protect you and Wyatt.”

  My voice quivers. “Is your name Daniel Warren?”

  “In life I couldn’t speak.”

  I try again. “Is your name Daniel?”

  “I didn’t know any words or names.”

  “What did you know?”

  “Nothing. My world was nothing but a storm of random sounds.”

  “What was it like to live in your world?”

  “Torture. Confusion. Hell. My world was hell.”

  “I don’t want you to feel like you’re in hell. I want to help you. I want to know what happened to you when you were alive. Can you remember ever hearing the name Daniel?”

  “Daniel,” he repeats. “I have Wyatt’s words because I’m inside Wyatt’s mind, but it’s all completely new. And confusing.”

  “Try to remember.”

  “I’m trying, but that day with you, Annabelle, in the basement, was the first time I have ever spoken to anybody.”

  He pauses. A grimace contorts the ghoulish version of Wyatt’s face.

  “I think I’ve heard the name Daniel said aloud, maybe once.”

  He grows silent for a moment and I observe how he looks like Wyatt, but different than Wyatt, in a subtle way.

  Daniel’s eyes are darker and set in hollows of gray. His face looks thin and pale with no trace of Wyatt’s healthy tanned complexion. Sharp, slanted lines define his cheekbones. When Wyatt is Wyatt, even his face looks well-fed and muscular, but with Daniel hiding inside of him, he looks gaunt and hungry. Staring at the dead boy, I become lost, imagining what life must have been like in room 209.

  Suddenly, he springs up to his full height, like a monstrous jack-in-the-box, and lunges at me.

  Grabbing my arms, he pins me to the chair. Literally frozen in place by his icy grip, I sit like a statue, paralyzed with shock. Oliver shoots up like a rocket and Nathaniel zooms closer to Wyatt’s other side. Both men grab his arms and attempt to pull him away from me.

  I call out, “No, it’s all right. I’m okay, just cold.” My teeth are clicking together uncontrollably.

  Daniel moves his hands up to my shoulders, stares into my face and speaks. “You’re my only hope.”

  I can barely get the words out, my teeth are chattering so hard. “I want to help you but I don’t know how.”

  “Go back to the hospital.”

  And he’s gone. Wyatt’s hands move down. As he caresses my bare arms, they grow warmer and he hauls me up, out of the chair, into his arms. Staggering backwards, he collapses into his chair and pulls me onto his lap. Cradling me like a child, he kisses my hair and whispers my name.

  Chapter 17

  We Plan a Field Trip

  Oliver speaks first. “Are you two all right?”

  My hand trembles as I smooth my hair back and feel drops of moisture; Daniel’s tears. Or are they Wyatt’s?

  “I’m freezing.” I stand up and look down, into Wyatt’s disoriented eyes.

  Jackson pulls his sweater off and tugs it over my head before I can protest. It feels warm from having been worn by an actual living person who isn’t as cold as a corpse. Plus it’s huge on me and really cozy. “Thanks so much. This feels really soft.”

  “It should. It’s cashmere. Nice shirt by the way, Annabelle. I hate to cover it up.”

  I crack a weak smile because now I’m thinking about how silly I must’ve looked, with Wyatt’s name painted on my chest during the whole dramatic scene of the séance.

  “Don’t knock it. I love that shirt.” Wyatt speaks aloud with his own voice for the first time since we dimmed the lights and began.

  Jackson grins. “Is that what you were doing out in the driveway earlier, showing Annabelle how much you like her shirt?”

  Oliver changes the subject. “Everyone must be starving. Jackson, there’s a plate of sandwiches in the fridge. We should put on water for tea, too. We all need something warm.” Then he adds, “I’m going to run upstairs and get Wyatt a sweatshirt. I can see the gooseflesh on his arms from here and he’s shivering. I’ll be back down in a second. So we can make some plans.”

  We’re now sitting in a much different circle around the kitchen table, sipping hot tea and eating cheddar cheese and alfalfa sprout sandwiches on whole grain br
ead. Even after a close encounter with the undead, Wyatt’s uncle insists on healthy and organic food. Nathaniel makes a bunch of wisecracks about needing a cheeseburger and fries and Oliver good-naturedly shrugs them off, as usual. Wyatt’s half way through his third sandwich before he finally joins in the conversation.

  “So what’s the plan?”

  We all know he’s referring to our field trip to the psychiatric hospital. Oliver suggests, “How about next Saturday?”

  I say, “I have a race, in Boston, in the morning, but it’ll be over by noon.”

  “I’m skipping practice to go to Annabelle’s race. After that I’m free.”

  Nathaniel announces, “I’m in. I wouldn’t miss this for anything. Besides, you’ll need me even though I’ll have to wait by the van. I’m the paranormal expert.”

  Jackson adds, “I wouldn’t miss it either. I can help Oliver look through those files. Besides, I’m a psychologist and Wild Wood was a psychiatric facility. My background might come in handy.”

  I’m the only one who’s been to the hospital and seen everything first hand. “It’s as if everyone fled in the middle of the night. The bedding is still on the beds. There are curtains on the windows, and yes, file cabinets that might have files still in them. Everything has been sitting there for over twenty years.”

  “Just waiting for us to come along and investigate.” Oliver smiles.

  “My uncle’s feeling a historian’s enthusiasm for firsthand exploration and discovery. He loves the story part of history,” Wyatt says.

  “Wyatt’s right. This has really piqued my interest. Let’s meet here at three in the afternoon on Saturday. We’ll take Jackson’s SUV and Nathaniel’s van. Bring flashlights in case we end up staying until after dusk. The days are getting shorter and we don’t want to be fumbling around in the dark. I’ll bring a camera. Don’t be late.”

  “C’mon, Annabelle. It looks like you’ll be needing a ride home.” Nathaniel points his thumb in Wyatt’s direction. He’s sprawled across the table with his head resting on one outstretched arm, his face beside his empty plate. He starts to snore. Jackson and Oliver rise at the same time, so they can wake Wyatt up and help him climb the stairs.

  When we get to my house, Nathaniel doesn’t come inside. It’s late and we’re both exhausted. I kiss him on the cheek and Jeff on the top of his head and run up the driveway and into the house. The kitchen’s dim, silent and empty. Standing at the window, I watch Nathaniel drive away before I turn off the outside light.

  My parents are already in bed, so I don’t wake them. Mom will be up before me tomorrow, like always. She’ll pack me some snacks and Gatorade for practice and we’ll talk for a few minutes before I leave, running late as usual.

  Thinking these reassuring thoughts I head up to my room, which is a mess. There’s a small TV with a built-in DVD player in my room. I like to watch movies sometimes before I fall asleep. The last ten movies I watched are stacked on my dresser and their cases are all over the floor.

  As I kick aside a bunch of empty DVD cases, my foot gets caught in the strap of a sports bra. I disentangle myself and flop onto the bed, still in my clothes. Peeling off my jeans, I keel over onto the bed. I’m so snug and warm inside Jackson’s sweater that I decide to sleep in it. Pulling the soft garment down as far as it will go, I tuck my bare legs under the quilt, and conk right out.

  During the blackest part of the night something wakes me up out of a dead sleep. The sound of plastic clicking against plastic. Someone’s shuffling through all those empty DVD cases. The fine hairs on the back of my neck perk up and I shiver, even though I’m still bundled up in Jackson’s sweater and covered with a soft, thick quilt. The glowing numbers on the clock tell me it’s midnight.

  “Mom?” I ask, even though I know it isn’t my mother tiptoeing across my mess, toward the bed. I know I’m the only living human in the room.

  “Daniel,” I beg. “Please, you’re scaring me. Let me sleep. I have to get up early. I promise I’ll see you next Saturday.”

  He stirs the curtains hanging on either side of the closed window. Then silence and cold fill the room. With Jackson’s sweater pulled down over my butt and the quilt up around my ears, I fall back to sleep.

  Chapter 18

  Truth Night

  I dream that Wyatt’s holding me. He reaches under my shirt and places his palms against the skin on my lower back. One hand feels warm and alive, the other is deathly cold. He kisses me and his lips feel cracked and dry. The taste of dirt fills my mouth and a handful of plump, thin-skinned maggots, ready to split from the pressure of their oozing guts, squirm across one cheek and down my chin to my neck. I push him away, gasp for air and wake up screaming.

  My mother runs in, with Dad right behind her. When they realize there’s no intruder trying to haul me out my bedroom window, my father goes back to bed. I tell Mom it was just a nightmare.

  “I’ll stay here until you fall back to sleep, Annabelle. What were you dreaming about?”

  “Just a generic nightmare, nothing specific or memorable.” What am I supposed to answer? “I dreamed that while I was kissing Wyatt, he turned into a decomposing corpse.”

  I don’t think my mother’s ready to hear that. She’s no fool, though; she knows me well and can probably tell I’m holding something back. But she keeps quiet and doesn’t pressure me. Instead, she sits on the edge of the bed and watches over me until I drift off. When I finally fall back to sleep, I dream of nothing.

  My alarm goes off way too early. My mother apologizes over breakfast on Saturday, before I even leave for practice. She makes no excuses and promises me that in the future she’ll share with me any plans for séances and other assorted supernatural adventures that Oliver, Nathaniel or Wyatt dream up.

  I need the truth and I need everyone to stop deciding when they should tell me stuff and how much they should tell me. From now on I want to know everything right away, as soon as everybody else knows it. I need to be an equal partner in this paranormal adventure; after all, I found Daniel in the first place. If it wasn’t for me, we wouldn’t be in this situation.

  Nobody has actually lied to me, but nobody’s been telling me the whole truth, either. I’m ready to demand the entire story from everyone. And I’m going to start immediately.

  During Saturday morning’s cross-country practice, Wyatt texts me, asking me if he can come over. Do you want to hang out tonight?

  On the bus ride home from Boston I finally get a chance to reply. Only if we can talk and you tell me everything.

  I promise. No more secrets or surprises. I’m sorry.

  Be there at eight. And bring popcorn, with real butter.

  After a long, hot shower, I put on my favorite green sweater and a pair of soft, worn-out jeans. Then I blow-dry my hair, straighten it and flick on some mascara. Next I choose a flavored lip gloss from my impressive collection: honey-vanilla, delicious. Wyatt arrives right on time, carrying a box of popcorn and a half stick of real butter. We pop the popcorn in the microwave and I melt the butter in a small pan on the stove. Wyatt pours it evenly over the bowl of popcorn. Grabbing a salt shaker and a couple of Gatorades, we head down the stairs to the basement.

  Because I want to talk seriously with him, I choose a movie I’ve seen before, Pride and Prejudice, based on the novel by Jane Austen, who’s my favorite author. Wyatt deserves to suffer through the ultimate chick flick, British accents and all. Plus, Keira Knightly is gorgeous, brunette and flat-chested. She gives me hope.

  Wyatt is either too gentlemanly or too remorseful to complain and he sits through scene after scene of drama and witty conversation, waiting patiently for even a moment of sex or violence which never happens. Finally, as Mr. Darcy awkwardly begins to make his feelings for Elizabeth Bennett clear on the big screen, I begin my cross-examination.

  “We need to talk.”

  He responds by lying down and pulling me over beside him. I push him away and sit up.

  “Wyatt. Get up. I’m
serious.”

  “So am I.” He’s still lying down and he pulls on my arm, attempting to persuade me to cuddle with him.

  “We can’t talk if our lips are smooshed together.”

  “Damn. I love it when our lips are smooshed together.”

  “C’mon. I mean it.”

  “Okay, okay, go ahead. You want to talk. So talk.” He sits up.

  “The day that you channeled Daniel for the first time you didn’t tell me everything.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “What did you see? What did you feel?”

  “Let’s start with what I did tell you. When I saw you for the first time in History class, I saw Daniel, too. I felt a powerful connection to you both. I kept trying to talk to you but you kept blowing me off. Then that day in the cafeteria, I watched Connor touch you and I had to make a move. After that things got even more complicated.”

  “Complicated? How?”

  “I wanted to tell you how I felt about you. More importantly, though, I needed to tell you that I could see Daniel. But I didn’t want to scare you. Most of all, I didn’t want you to think I was a freak.”

  “I had a ghost following me around. Doesn’t that place me in the freak category, too?”

  “Not quite as freakish as me. At least that’s how I felt at the time. Now I realize you’re a huge freak.”

  I punch his arm and not playfully. “Stay serious, Silver.”

  “Okay, okay, I’ll stay serious. Just don’t hit me again. I think you left a bruise.”

  He rubs his arm and continues. “That Sunday in your basement, I let Daniel in.”

  “What do you mean by you let him in?”

  “I had a feeling that if I held you in my arms and opened my mind and my soul to him, he’d take over. And he did. I’m sorry I didn’t warn you. If you’re still mad, I know I deserve it.”