by Mark Lukens
“Nick, are you okay?” Kristen asked and raced across the cracked and weedy walkway to the front porch.
Shane and the others dropped their loads and hurried over to the front porch.
“Give him some room, guys,” Kristen said. She hovered beside Nick as he sat on the edge of the steps. “Just sit down for a minute,” she told him in a low voice.
Nick looked at Kristen and nodded. He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. He assured everyone else with one of his bright-white smiles as they gathered at the foot of the steps. “I just pushed it a little too far, that’s all. Not as young as I used to be, I guess.”
It seemed like Nick was okay, so Shane took this opportunity to take in the front of the Thornhill Manor. It looked like a sturdy three story structure from a distance, but now that he was closer to the building it seemed consumed with mold, mildew, and wood rot. Iron bars on the railings of upstairs balconies were rusty, panes of glass cracked, paint long ago peeled away in many places. The tall window on the right hand side of the double doors was almost completely busted out. Dangerous shards of glass stuck up all around the window frame. Yet even with all the rot and decay, the building seemed to exude a kind of strength, like it was playing hurt, pretending to be weaker than it really was, feigning vulnerability to entice people inside its
(mouth)
front doors.
Another shiver ran through him. He was getting a bad feeling just being this close to the house. He’d only ever had a feeling like this in one other place … the Cranston House. He glanced over at Laura and saw the fear in her eyes—she wasn’t even trying to hide it. He could only imagine what she was picking up, what images were flashing through her mind at this moment.
Nick got back up to his feet and took a deep breath, the smile never leaving his face. “Let’s see what’s inside,” he told them.
• • • • •
Shane and Billy carried the generator inside the massive foyer after Nick and Kristen pushed both of the doors open. They walked a few steps inside and set the generator down on the floor.
Shane massaged the muscles of his right arm for a moment, trying to knead the soreness away as he stared around at the massive room they were standing in. The construction supplies and equipment around the room caught his attention immediately: the stack of drywall leaning against a wall, stacks of two-by-fours and other lumber, various lengths of PVC pipe, rolls of electrical wire, bags of mortar and plaster stacked up on two wooden pallets with tarps over them, two brand new wheelbarrows, a pile of tool belts, hardhats and hand tools in a corner.
“What’s all of this construction equipment for?” Shane asked.
Billy strolled over to a poster board set on an easel near the corner of the foyer; it was an artist’s rendering of what the Thornhill Manor would look like once it was remodeled.
“The Thornhill Manor is in the middle of renovation,” Nick said. “Lee Templeton had planned for this place to become the Oceanview Resort.”
“How come the work stopped?” Shane asked.
“There were some accidents,” Nick answered.
“What kind of accidents?” Billy asked, turning away from the poster.
“No one was killed,” Kristen spoke up quickly, almost like she was trying to convince herself that this place wasn’t that bad. “There were some injuries. Many of the workers believed that this place was haunted, or cursed, and they left.”
Shane looked at Laura again, trying to gauge her reaction. She stood by herself, the closest one to the front doors still, and she hugged her arms like she was cold. She stared around at the vast foyer, looking up at the ceiling two stories above them.
Warren Savage walked away from the group towards massive archways that led to other rooms. He stopped and stared down at the ancient floorboards. They were stained and dirty, grimy with decades of dirt. But there were some small coins of stains on the floor that looked newer … they looked fresh. “Is this blood?” Warren asked.
Nick clapped his hands together with a loud smack and approached Shane. “You’re our leader. Where are we going to begin?”
“What kind of accidents happened here?” Shane asked Kristen, ignoring Nick.
“Construction accidents,” Nick snapped, forcing Shane’s attention back to him. “On a construction site of any size, there are always going to be a few accidents. Please. Where are we going to start?”
Shane wasn’t too pleased about his question not being answered. Nick and Kristen were keeping details about this place hidden from him. They had sworn that once he got here, he would be filled in on the details, but it hadn’t happened yet.
He walked away from Nick, past Warren who still frowned down at the many splashes of dark blood on the floor, studying them like he would study a specimen on a slide.
“Is the blood on this floor from one of the accidents?” Warren asked Nick as he walked by.
“It might be,” Nick answered in an offhand way. “I’m not really sure.”
Shane watched Nick and he didn’t believe that Nick didn’t know if the blood was from the recent construction accidents. But instead of challenging Nick on it, Shane headed towards a large archway that led into a room with a massive chandelier hanging from the ceiling twelve feet above them. The room looked like it could have been a dining hall a long time ago. The room was empty of any furniture; the plaster on the ceiling was cracked in many places, some of the loose plaster barely hanging on. A row of windows took up most of the far wall, but the windows were covered with thick, dusty drapes that kept the room dark. A door down the other wall, close to the windows, led to another room.
“It feels cold in here,” Laura said from right behind Shane.
He hadn’t even heard her sneak up behind him. He turned around in the middle of the cavernous room, right underneath the chandelier. He looked up at the massive chandelier and he had a sudden ominous feeling about standing right underneath it; he could imagine it falling on him. He walked back towards the archway where the others had gathered in a small group, watching him.
“Yeah, I feel it too,” Kristen said from right beside Nick. “It’s hot and muggy outside, but in here … it feels chilly.”
“Kind of nice, actually,” Nigel commented. “A break from the heat.”
Shane turned towards the windows at the far end of the room and marched towards them. There was a door near the corner a few feet away from the windows, to the left of them. He opened the door and saw a massive kitchen beyond the doorway.
“There’s a kitchen over here,” he told them.
Shane walked back to the others, steering clear of the chandelier. “We’ll make this room our base of operations.”
Nigel chuckled. “Our base of operations.”
Nick ignored Nigel’s remark. “Let’s go back down to the dock and get the rest of the gear. We should be able to get everything else in two more trips. And then we’ll take a tour of the manor.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
An hour later, after all of the gear was inside the Thornhill Manor, Shane and Billy carried the generator down a hallway that led off from the foyer. The hallway had a few doors to smaller rooms and a large but non-functioning bathroom, and the door at the end of the wide hall led out to a large covered patio at the side of the manor. They set the generator down on a vast section of ancient patio stones. The mortar joints of the patio stones were filled with tiny weeds and stained with mildew. A wood awning covered this part of the patio area and it was held up by eight thick wooden posts that had twisted and cracked over the years in the baking sun and high humidity. Just beyond the patio area the sea of weeds, grasses, and small shrubs grew wild, running all the way to the iron fence with the spiked tops that created the formidable perimeter of the property.
Shane spotted a piece of plywood thrown over a pile of other debris, most likely gathered by the team of construction workers who had been here before. He picked up the piece of plywood and checked it for bugs and spi
ders, and he made sure that there weren’t any nails or screws sticking out of it. He lugged the piece of plywood over to the generator and leaned it next to the generator.
“To help block the noise,” Shane told them as if he’d been asked about it, and then he grabbed one of the large plastic cans of gas they had brought and filled the generator’s tank up with it. After the tank was filled up, he screwed the metal cap back onto the tank.
“You sure you know what you’re doing?” Nigel asked.
Shane stared at him. “I’ve used a generator a time or two in my life.”
“Yes,” Nigel said like he had just remembered. “You’re a construction worker now, aren’t you? I mean, that’s what I heard anyway.”
Shane ignored Nigel’s comment and flipped a switch on the panel box of the generator. Then he yanked on the pull-cord. On the third pull, the motor spit, then caught, and then roared to life.
Nick smiled at the team. “We have electricity.”
Billy had already laid out a hundred foot electrical cord down the hallway and Shane plugged the heavy-duty cord into the generator.
• • • • •
Back inside the dining hall that they used as their base of operations, Shane laid out more power cords and plugged them into surge protectors. The door to the patio was closed and the running generator couldn’t even be heard inside the massive manor.
“Let’s start unloading the computer equipment from those boxes,” Shane said.
Warren and Kristen set up two laptop computers on top of the two small folding tables.
Billy set a box full of flashlights and dozens of different sized batteries down beside the computer tables. “That’s a lot of batteries,” he said.
Shane looked at Billy. “You don’t ever want to run out of light on a ghost hunt.”
Nigel nodded. “Only if you’re scared of the dark.”
Shane ignored Nigel’s comment and pulled out a Mel Meter EMF from one of the boxes of equipment. He turned it on and walked around the room with it, studying the dial.
“What’s that?” Kristen asked Shane.
“It’s an EMF with an ambient temperature deviation detector,” Shane told her. “I’m just getting some preliminary readings.”
“What’s an EMF?”
Nigel butted in before Shane could answer her question. “It’s an electronic magnetic field detector. It measures any electromagnetic field disturbances.”
Shane ignored Nigel as he watched the dial spin back and forth crazily.
“Is it working?” Kristen asked.
Shane looked at Kristen. “Yeah. It’s picking up some disturbances here.”
“Ghost hunters believe that spirits and ghosts give off electromagnetic signals,” Nigel said in a loud voice that echoed throughout the cavernous dining hall.
Shane walked to the windows and back, still ignoring Nigel, still watching the dial spin around. He had never seen an EMF act like this before. Maybe it was broken.
“You know what else gives off electromagnetic disturbances?” Nigel asked.
No one offered an answer.
“The whole bloody Earth.” Nigel said and cackled.
No one else joined him in his laughter.
Shane walked back to the computer tables and put the EMF back in the box. He shook his head. “I’m not sure if it’s working correctly.” He thought about trying another one. He looked over at Harold, the other scientist who kept to himself. He had his sleeping bag already laid out on the floor near the wall, well away from the center of their base with the two tables, boxes of supplies, and construction lights set up. Harold had his backpacks of equipment that he kept with him at all times. He set the backpacks up near the head of his sleeping bag along with a small battery-powered lantern.
They had all been given sleeping bags and Nick had brought along plenty of dried and canned food and a cooler of drinks and dozens of gallons of drinking water. There was also a box that contained a first aid kit, bathroom supplies, and cooking utensils and equipment.
Shane watched Harold for a moment longer. He wondered what he was doing here, what his contribution to this ghost hunt was. Laura was obviously the psychic, and Nick and Kristen, his assistant, were the money behind this operation. Billy was a cameraman who obviously knew Nick and Kristen well. Nigel was the skeptic. And Warren Savage was a scientist. But what was Harold’s role in all of this? He certainly didn’t look very enthusiastic about being here.
And neither did Kristen. She looked like she’d been forced along.
Warren picked up a container of salt from another cardboard box. “What’s up with all of this salt?” he asked Shane.
Shane looked right at Nigel. “You want to explain the salt, Nigel? You seem to know everything.”
“I don’t know what the salt is for,” Nigel answered. “Maybe we’re making margaritas later.”
Kristen barked out a nervous laugh, and then covered her mouth quickly, suddenly a little embarrassed at her outburst. She looked at Shane who wasn’t laughing at all.
“By all means, please proceed,” Nigel said to Shane. He seemed to shine with delight now that someone had finally laughed at one of his jokes. “This is your show. As Mr. Gorman said, you’re our leader. We just follow you.”
Shane looked at Warren and answered his question. “Lines of salt can be used to ward off evil spirits and demons—they aren’t supposed to be able to cross the lines of salt.”
“They’re not supposed to be able to cross the lines of salt?” Kristen asked.
“Hey, nobody said anything about demons and evil spirits when I signed up for this,” Billy joked.
Nick glared at Billy and the smile slipped away from his split lips.
“Not all hauntings are ghosts or residual spirits,” Shane said as he looked at Billy and then at Kristen. “There’s always a possibility that a haunting is really a possession by demons.”
“Yeah … but demons aren’t real,” Kristen said like she was trying to convince herself. “Right?”
Shane didn’t answer her question. Instead, he changed the subject. “There is another use for salt.” He walked over and picked up a carton of salt from the box. “There’s a test you can do to see if you have a ghost in your house.”
Nick was suddenly very interested. He approached Shane. “What is it?” he asked.
“You fill a bowl with salt and leave it out overnight in a room of your house. If the salt turns brown, then you have a spirit haunting your home.”
“Let’s try it,” Nick said, suddenly eager.
Kristen rummaged through the box of food supplies and found a small plastic bowl. She set the bowl down on the floor ten steps away from the computer tables and boxes of supplies and gear.
Shane tore open the container of salt as he walked over to the bowl. He poured the salt into the bowl, filling it right up to the top.
Nigel pulled out a handheld tape recorder from inside his jacket pocket where he kept his flask of whiskey. He clicked the button on the side of the recorder and spoke into it. “The time is approximately …” Nigel glanced at his wristwatch. “Four thirty in the afternoon. We’ve just set up our base of operations and we’re performing the most scientific of all experiments … the bowl-of-salt-test.” Nigel clicked off his recorder. “Riveting.”
Shane turned away from the bowl of salt on the floor. “It will be dark soon,” Shane told them. “We need to map out the building, get an idea of where all of the rooms are, where everything is. When we make our rounds later in the dark, we’re going to want to know if there are any obstacles to watch out for.”
“Oh, I almost forgot,” Kristen said. She grabbed a file from beside one of the laptop computers and opened it, pulling out several sheets of paper. She handed one of them to Shane.
“This is a map of the manor. Mr. Templeton sent us the maps he was given and I made copies of them for you guys.” But not one for me, she thought, because I didn’t think I’d even be here.
Shane studied the map for a moment and nodded. There were four papers stapled together, a page for each floor. He saw the floor they were on with the foyer, ballroom, dining hall, kitchen, hallway, extra rooms, two massive living areas with fireplaces, and the patio area outside. It seemed like some of the rooms on the map were a little off, like they weren’t quite matching up to what he was seeing in reality, but these crudely drawn maps were better than nothing. The second page was the upstairs which mostly seemed to be rooms, like maybe this place had been a hotel at one time. The third floor, which only took up half of that level of the house, consisted of more rooms divided by a large hallway that ended with the biggest room which was marked: Sunroom. The last page was the basement which was just a large irregularly-shaped room, divided into many smaller rooms. It almost looked like a maze.
“Thanks, Kristen,” Shane said. “This will be a big help.”
Billy was crouched down on the floor beside his sleeping bag which he had already laid out … he had set up his bed on the other side of the room away from Harold’s sleeping area. He had one of his camera cases open, pulling a handheld video camera out.
“Look!” Warren yelled at all of them as he pointed at the bowl of salt on the floor.
The salt turned brown in an instant, and then it turned black. A second later the bowl flew across the floor like it had been swatted away by an invisible hand. The black salt sprayed across the floor as the bowl clattered away into the gloom and then came to a stop upside down.
All of them stared in stunned silence—even Nigel.
“That’s probably something we should’ve gotten on film,” Kristen said.
Billy stood up with his camera in his hand, his eyes wide with shock. “Shit,” he whispered.
“I don’t believe that just happened,” Warren said and looked at the others. “All of you saw that, right?”
“Looks like this place passed your salt test,” Nick said and smiled at Shane, clapping him on the shoulder.
