Ghosts of Rosewood Asylum

by Stephen Prosapio

  “Rosewood!” Zach’s heart pounded in his chest.

  As though on cue, a hint of Sailor Black wafted into his nose as a signal – this time, as a warning. There was nothing intrinsically offsetting about pipe smoke, especially Sailor Black brand. With subtle cinnamon and faint tangerine scents, the tobacco aroma hinted of leather-bound books in an ornate library more than it did danger on the high seas.

  But to Zach, Sailor Black’s sweet and spicy smell implied danger at the highest level.

  Zach focused on breathing and staying in the moment with Sara and Dr. Benz. He knew that they couldn’t smell the tobacco, nor would they hear the voice that would inevitably speak unless he controlled himself. And if he accidentally lapsed into an episode, it would end his television career. Something like that—something that bizarre just couldn’t be explained away.

  Zach blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “The place has been haunted ever since the thing with the nurse’s daughter back in 1900. But everyone in Chicago knows about that.”

  Benz smiled. “Yes. And more recently?”

  “Well, they built a strip mall next to Rosewood,” he said. “Allegedly, a few months ago, there was an incident. After the GrocersMart closed for the night, windows were blown out from the inside. A security camera captured one of the windows breaking completely on its own. The video is all over the internet!”

  Sara bit her lip as if to keep from giggling at his excitement.

  “So I’ve heard,” Dr. Benz said. “Anyway, the state has agreed to give us unlimited access for forty-eight hours.”

  “Unlimited access!”

  “More or less,” Benz said. He shifted in his chair.

  The pipe scent intensified. And the voice came.

  They’re not telling you everything.

  The voice rarely lied and, judging by the tense body language of both Sara and Dr. Benz, it wasn’t lying this time. As though to confirm his suspicions, Zach spied furtive glances between them. His temples began to throb – subtly at first but, as the pipe smell swirled around him, the room felt hotter.

  Zach knew that during an episode his heart rate dropped dramatically. He could feel it steadily slowing—making his fingers tingle. His hands and feet grew numb. If things continued, it would render his arms and legs inoperative. He took a deep breath and looked down at the tiny Chi Rho symbols tattooed on the insides of each of his wrists. With his slightly blurred vision, the markings resembled less the symbols of early Christianity and looked more like the XPI of his show’s logo. Then slowly, as he continued to inhale as much oxygen with every breath that he could, the tattoos calmed him. They centered him. They reminded him of what he was.

  “Are you okay, Zach?” Sara asked.

  “Yes, yes. I’m just so excited. How did we finally get approval to go in there?”

  Dr. Benz grinned like a cat with feathers in his teeth. “Finally pulled the right strings with the right people in Springfield. Apparently, there have been almost ten attempts to convert the place over the past hundred years?” He looked at Sara for verification.

  “I think the number is seven,” she said. “Seven attempts to renovate it.”

  “Regardless, they can’t tear the place down, it’s federally protected land,” Benz said. “The entire town of Pullman has landmark status. My hunch is that the state hoping for us to debunk the haunted rumors so that they can use it as an extension of Chicago State University that’s just a couple of miles away. Or hell, sell it off.”

  “There have been numerous fires on the property recently,” Sara said, turning to Zach. “They haven’t even reported all of them and are trying to keep things hush hush. Apparently, they’re hoping for an explanation, a scientific explanation.”

  They’re not interested in science.

  Zach ignored the voice and took a deep breath. “When do we begin?

  “Right away,” Sara said. “We film the case briefing tomorrow and we’re onsite the following two days.”

  “This week? Why the short notice?”

  Benz shifted in his chair. “The state was allegedly supposed to have notified us sooner,” he said. “But I think they kept this quiet until the last minute so that the news media didn’t get wind of it.”

  “Anyway,” Sara interjected. “It’s going to be a week of intense focus. We need some good dramatic stuff.”

  They still haven’t told you all of it.

  “Well, we can’t control how dramatic our findings are, but you know I’ll give every ounce of effort.” Zach fidgeted with the arms of his chair hoping that the meeting had come to an end.

  “Now, Zach, we’ve only been given forty-eight hours to investigate Rosewood. So…” Benz raised a finger in the air as if he were a used car salesman about to throw in the final bargaining chip to close the deal.

  Zach sensed Sara tense up beside him.

  Benz continued. “Well, our network family has two groups that want the opportunity to investigate Rosewood and, in an effort to minimize our production costs and not compete against each other…”

  “As well as get great ratings!” Sara said as though on cue.

  No, they were not. No, Zach thought, they are not setting me up to do a show with those lunatics. Not the Demon Hunters. His budding headache worsened.

  “Yes,” Benz said. “As well as provide us great ratings. One team, your team, needs some exposure. The other team could use some additional…” Benz snapped his fingers in rapid succession.

  “Legitimacy?” Sara volunteered.

  “Thank you, Sara. Yes, legitimacy.” Dr. Benz smiled. “Zach, this Halloween Special is a ‘can’t miss opportunity’ for us all. It is my sincere hope that it will combine the best aspects of both Xavier Paranormal Investigators and the Demon Hunters.”

  Between the stench of Sailor Black tobacco, Zach’s throbbing temples and his plummeting heart rate, it was all he could do to not pass over into a full-blown episode.

  Chapter Two

  The blow to Zach’s midsection forced all the air from his body. Zach stumbled backwards and raised a trembling arm as if it would protect him from the burly boxer approaching him again.

  “C’mon. C’mon,” Ray said pounding his gloves together in succession. “I’m not done.”

  The musky smell of the gym and the sounds of other boxers jumping rope, hitting bags and lifting weights enhanced Zach’s sense of accomplishment for even having been willing to climb in the ring.

  “FuggRay…” Zach mumbled through his mouthpiece. “R’you tryin’ to kill me?”

  Zach offered a few half-hearted bobs that he hoped would substitute for bouncing on his toes. After enduring just two minutes in the ring—and more than a couple of his best friend’s punches, Zach could barely move his legs or lift his arms. “There must be ten other guys—”

  “C’mon, buddy.” Ray “The Railroad” Ross spit out his mouthpiece but kept dancing and weaving around Zach. “This is quality time together.”

  “I though you weren’t s’ppose ta fight souff-paws?”

  “My next fight is with a lefty. That makes you the perfect sparring partner, buddy.”

  The bastard wasn’t even out of breath.

  Zach nodded and padded closer to Ray. He knew that he’d be little more than punching bag fodder but if he could get one solid punch in, or maybe a flurry, he’d expel the frustration from his earlier meeting with Sara and Dr. Benz.

  “C’mon. C’mon. With uhn name like ‘Kalusky,’” he said in a poorly done Eastern European accent, “you should be like uhn big Polish fighter.”

  The name. With his dark hair, hazel eyes and wiry frame, Zach didn’t look in the least bit Polish—but at least Sci-D TV had given up trying to convince him to alter “Kalusky” to something more “marketable” for the show.

  Poof. Pa-poof. Poof.

  A flurry of Ray’s punches came up mercifully short of Zach’s nose.

  “Damn. When you goin’ pro?”

  “Can’t just
yet. Ya’ know, once I’m pro, I’ll have to quit the job.”

  “Riiiight. BS alert.”

  “Hey, I might have to punch someone.” He looked away. It was the first time he’d taken his eyes off Zach the entire time in the ring. “I might need to toss a customer out on his ear.”

  Ray worked as a bouncer at a strip club.

  “So?”

  “So. They might sue me.”

  “Huh? You got no money to sue for.”

  Poof. Pa-poof. Poof.

  All three punches tapped Zach’s headgear. It felt like a warning to change the subject. For a year, Ray had been postponing a leap into his boxing career and apparently, the inflamed spot was becoming sorer.

  Two more of Ray’s punches landed and pressed Zach into the corner of the ring.

  “You’re making me do this ‘cuz you got twice the videotape last case,” Zach said.

  Besides being his best friend since high school and tormenter in the boxing ring, Ray, the only member of Xavier Paranormal Investigators not a student at Saint Xavier, served as Zach’s Video Review Analyst.

  “Nah, the more videotape, the more time with Sara.”

  Zach attempted a jab but Ray deftly dodged it.

  “Ya know seriously,” Ray said. “I think reviewing those videos helps my boxing eye.”

  “I’d think,” Zach said panting, “it would make you go blind.”

  Ray grimaced. “That’s what my trainer said too.”

  “I knew I’d find a way to beat you.” Zach smiled as best as he could manage through his mouthpiece.

  “Smoke and mirrors, my friend,” Ray darted back and forth “Smoke and mirrors.”

  Despite a torso as wide as an oak tree trunk, Ray moved at lightning speed.

  “I’ll show you smoke,” Zach said unleashing a flurry of lefts and rights that, in his mental plan, had been fluid and quick. Instead, the glancing blows to Ray’s arm and chest weren’t even worth attempting to avoid. Zach wondered if the guys outside the ring might be comparing his awkward forward motion to that of a baby giraffe—as if guys like those watched Sci-D’s nature shows.

  “So, did ya put in a good word for me yet?” Ray asked.

  “With who?”

  “Sara. I told you. I think she’s hot.”

  “If I put in a good word to every girl you think is hot…” Zach couldn’t talk and move at the same time.

  “Yeah?” Ray asked.

  “I don’t have that many good words.”

  “Keep it up, buddy. They’ll be carting you out of here on a stretcher.”

  “Great.” Zach’s legs were becoming room-temperature Jell-O. “At least I’ll be carried.”

  “So?” Ray asked. “What is my Sara up to?”

  “Ugh. She’s kissing up to the network.” Zach bobbed up and down.

  “How so?”

  There was no way to keep pace with Ray. Zach gasped for breath; he was rapidly getting lightheaded. “Halloween Special.”

  “So what’s wrong with that?”

  “With Demon Hunters.”

  “Oh.”

  Ray shook his head as though he’d been momentarily stunned by an uppercut to the jaw. Zach could have taken advantage of the distraction and charged in with a flurry of punches, but instead used the opportunity to catch his breath. He really felt useless as a sparring partner, but he and Ray rarely said no to a request of the other.

  “So what are you going to do?” Ray asked.

  “Same thing as now.”

  “Dance away like a sissy?”

  If Ray was attempting to hide a smirk, he failed.

  “Funny. No. Just grin and bear it.”

  “Hmmm,” Ray said, his eyes taking on the intense glare of a predator. “I’ll lay you bare.” He moved in for the kill.

  Zach stopped and held both gloves up in a gesture that was more of a protest than surrender. “No mas. No mas.”

  “C’mon. C’mon.” Ray unleashed a flurry of punches on a make-believe opponent in the center of the ring. “I’m just getting warmed up.” Not only was he not out of breath, he’d barely even broken a sweat.

  “Not on me you’re not. I’ve got a television face to protect.”

  “I’ve got news for you, buddy,” Ray said. “Zac Effron you’re not.”

  While his friend had a point, as Xavier Paranormal Investigators had gained popularity, Zach was surprised at the amount of fan mail –much of it love letters –that he received from both young girls and…from older men. Fortunately, none of the show’s “clients” had ever made an on-air pass at him, although off the air a few had made it clear that they would more than welcome follow up calls from him. Lonely as he became sometimes, Zach was determined to stay single until he completed his doctoral thesis.

  Besides, becoming emotional held a certain unusual and serious consequence for Zach. One that began with whiffs of Sailor Black and ended in something Zach could never show to a lover. The first time he’d kissed a girl in junior high he had almost immediately lapsed into an episode.

  Zach spit out his mouthpiece. “I’m going to hit the showers, bud.”

  “You got it, man. Thanks for the workout.” Ray approached and stuck both gloves out for Zach to tap. “I’m gonna get a little more work done before I call it a day.”

  Zach nodded and, as they climbed from the ring, two other boxers eagerly slipped between the ropes. Zach had survived a session in the ring with a professional-level pugilist, but he doubted he’d contributed much to Ray’s path to his first paid fight—or maybe he’d pumped up Ray’s ego a little.

  Zach glanced over his shoulder at his friend slamming his fists to the midriff of a punching bag that, if administered to a real fighter would have landed even heavyweights on their knees.

  Ray had actually found an opponent even less mobile than Zach.

  “The Haunted Asylum, buddy!” Ray slapped him a shower-moistened high five. “You’ve been talking about that place as long as I’ve known you.”

  Before toweling off, Ray bent over and vehemently shook his head, spraying water droplets from his hair onto Zach the way a dog would after fetching a stick from a lake.

  “That’s disgusting—come on, you’re getting my books all wet!”

  “Awwww. Poor Psychology-boy.”

  Sitting with textbooks spread open in the gym’s locker room, Zach must have looked the part. Ray’s “little more” workout had lasted over an hour and Zach needed to cram for an Evolutionary Psychology test.

  “Anyway,” Ray said. “I’ve heard that every time they’re to reopen Rosewood, something stops them. Everything from suicides to fires to sightings of some witch ghost halts all plans. I guess it’s happened like twenty different times.”

  “I think the number is closer to seven,” Zach said. “But, yeah.”

  “Whatever. Still, there are those Evergreen Park High School students who snuck in on a dare to stay overnight. One of them died that night and another of the kids eventually went insane.”

  “That’s such an urban legend.”

  “It is not. Remember Danny Joyce? His older sister’s best friend was one of those girls.” Ray applied a generous amount of cologne on his neck and chest.

  “Danny Joyce was a moron. I wouldn’t believe anything he ever said.”

  “What about the rest?”

  “Well,” Zach said, “reports of the female ghost are extremely common, and she’s supposedly pretty gruesome. One report alleges that she’s even hideous enough to date you.”

  Ray finished pulling a t-shirt over his bulging muscles and feigned a punch. Zach stuck out his chin daring him to do it.

  “So seriously,” Ray said. “Those Demon Hunters are hack artists. They use all those quick cuts, silhouettes and dramatic angles, but you can tell that they’re just playing up any sort of activity they find.”

  “You sound rather familiar with the show,” Zach said. “A closet fan?

  “Nope. It’s no secret. I’m their biggest admi
rer.” Ray slipped into his jeans.

  “You would be.”

  “Anyway, rumor has it,” Ray continued, “they once used an icy beer can to produce a cold spot on their thermal camera. What are you gonna do—try and get out of it?”

  “I don’t think I can—the network calls the shots. Without the Sci-D TV paycheck, it’s back to working nights at the pizza place, and that’s not going to pay for my PhD.”

  Zach’s scholastic achievements, even in his favorite subjects, psychology and theology, weren’t anywhere near impressive enough to merit a free ride through Saint Xavier’s esteemed doctoral program. He’d never been particularly outstanding in math, science, English, or history, for that matter. Therefore, it struck him as ironic that a science television network was paying for his PhD studies because of his interest in ghosts.

  “Besides,” he continued, “a Halloween Special is enormous for the show. If we can pull this off, the sky’s the limit.”

  “Buddy, c’mon. Who you tryin’ to kid? You give a rat’s ass about the show. It’s just a means to an end.”

  It seemed Zach could neither run nor hide, in or out of the ring. Ray’s comment was true—at least it had been true. As an undergraduate, because of his own childhood experiences with the supernatural, Zach had founded Xavier Paranormal Investigators to investigate residential haunts. Over the first couple of years, a number of Saint Xavier students lent their skills to make the group successful. Most just worked a case or two and, curiosity satiated, left XPI, but a tightly knit core remained. Noticing that just about every cable station aired a ghost hunting show, Zach contacted Sci-D TV and proposed Xavier Paranormal Investigators as a television program. Demon Hunters had already been greenlighted for that season, but Dr. Benz loved the idea of investigating the paranormal by college students with a more scientific angle. The idea took flight from there. Once the show had become a reality, Zach often felt torn between the glamour of a career in show business and a calling to help children who’d experienced trauma, especially paranormal trauma, which was how he hoped to apply his PhD.

  “Look,” he said to Ray, “this is a huge opportunity. I’ll – we’ll conduct the best investigation we can. Debunk whatever we can. I think that’s what the state is hoping for. The property has protected landmark status both federally and at the state level. They want to sell that property and, between the exposure we provide and the myths we dispel, they might get a shot at selling it off.”