As he put out his hand, Cindy cried out, “What's wrong with my little girl, Dr. Collins?” She grabbed his arm and drilled her panic into his eyes.
With a troubled look on his face, he replied, “I can’t answer that yet. It’s much too soon for a diagnosis.” Sitting on a stool, he flipped open a clipboard and jotted down some information. He took Jennifer’s pulse and wrote some more. “I’ve already called someone down from the lab to collect blood samples. This will help us to understand her condition. I can tell you after cleaning her up and a few stitches, her injuries appear mostly superficial. Much of the blood that covered her was not her own. However, she's in a coma we can't explain. Meanwhile, I don’t want you to panic. Let's get a full-body CAT scan and some test results, and I'll know more.”
Feeling numb with worry, Cindy couldn’t think straight. She twisted locks of her hair while she waited for them to find out something about Jennifer’s condition.
Getting up from the cold steel chair, Steve paced back and forth in front of his wife who sat staring at a blank wall. The lab tech arrived to draw some blood samples from Jennifer’s arm, adding more stress to his nerves. After taking four tubes of blood, the lab tech finished and headed out the door, leaving the Cravens once again in the dark.
A homicide detective stood in the hallway waiting to ask some questions. The captain had assigned Detective Kyle the case on Halloween night when the teens first disappeared. “Find the creep that is taking our children, Kyle,” his captain ordered.
As the doctor left, the detective stepped through the door and peeked around the curtain. The Cravens leaned over their daughter’s bed, whispering to her. Trying to respect their privacy, he hated to interrupt them, but he had no other choice.
“Hello, I’m Detective Kyle. I know this is a bad time, but I need to ask you a few questions.” It wasn’t easy coming face-to-face with the victim’s family members to discuss tragic issues, but in this case, he needed more information. He suspected Jennifer might not be a victim at all, but a mass murderer. “Excuse me, Mr. Cravens,” he asked while extending his hand. “I know this is terrible timing, but I need to speak with you about Jennifer.”
Motioning them to follow and stepping into the hallway, he flipped open his pad of paper and dug for his pen in his pocket. “I want you to accept my sympathy for you and your wife and for what has happened to your daughter. I can see this is a difficult time for you. But if you could give me a few minutes of your time, I will be out of your way and let you resume taking care of her,” he explained politely.
Steve nodded. “Thank you, Detective.”
“I need to know where you found her.”
Steve cleared his mind. “It was around 6:00 o’clock this morning when my wife opened the door and found her. She collapsed in the entryway right on the hardwood floor. We weren’t able to find out much, because Jennifer couldn’t speak. All I know is that she looked horrible, banged up, and white as a ghost, covered in blood and filth.”
Officer Kyle took the information and added, “Mr. Cravens, it’s urgent I find out all I can, because we need to find the other girls.”
“Detective, I wish I could help, but we know nothing at the moment. My wife and I were out at a party, and Jennifer was over at Claire's house.”
“All right, Mr. Cravens. As soon as Jennifer is able to talk, please give me a call.” He handed them his business card.
Steve shifted his gaze to his sick child lying in bed, helpless against the world. “The doctor told us he doesn’t know the cause of her illness yet, so I have no idea….” Steve didn’t know what to tell the detective. He couldn’t find the words to say what he felt.
Detective Kyle nodded. “I understand, and don’t feel pressured about contacting me. It will turn out fine I’m sure. Your daughter is in the best of care.”
What a relief. A smile crept on Steve's face, the first one today. “Thank you,” he told him, grateful for the man's sympathy.
Steve wanted to be helpful, but until Jennifer came to, her ordeal would remain a mystery. Detective Kyle shook his hand. “Thank you for your time, and I’m sorry about your daughter. Please let me know the minute you find out something. Again, thank you.”
Chapter Seven
Two days passed and Jennifer still hadn't emerged from her coma. Dr. Collins consoled the Cravens, giving them hope on their daughter’s progress. Tired and worried, Cindy camped by her bedside, singing to her. Jennifer didn't respond to anything she tried. She hoped by telling her stories of her childhood she’d come to, but nothing helped. Continually wiping a cool rag over Jennifer's sweaty face, she had a strong feeling Jennifer was in there somewhere and could hear everything she said. With a giant hopeful heart, Cindy willed her to wake from the deep sleep.
***
Steve struggled to believe his daughter would pull through. He walked out of the room to clear his negative thoughts and to give his wife alone time with Jennifer. If anyone could wake her, Cindy could. He hated to see his beautiful wife so stressed and full of worries. It started to show on her face. Alone in the hospital's chapel, he said a prayer asking for the strength to get through the day. He begged God to give him back his little girl. He prayed for peace and acceptance, no matter the outcome. Somehow, he had to be there for his family.
Even though they weren't churchgoing folks, his parents instilled in him a strong belief in a higher power. Steve knew God would be the only one who could save this daughter he cherished so dearly. She was his only child, and he couldn’t imagine losing her forever.
Later that afternoon, he decided to go down to the cafeteria to grab a bite to eat. Leaving Cindy taking a catnap with her head in Jennifer's lap, he crept out of the room, taking his laptop. No sense worrying Cindy any more than necessary.
Her eyes closed, Cindy awoke when fingers coursed through her hair. Startled, she raised her head. Jennifer greeted her with a tired smile, but her eyes were open. With tears in her eyes, Cindy yelled for someone to help her. She grabbed the nurse's call button and mashed it repeatedly. “She’s all right, dear Lord, she’s gonna make it,” Cindy shouted, embracing Jennifer tightly.
Where's my husband, she wondered suddenly. Her head swiveled the room. She shrugged, and hugged her daughter again. Although Jennifer opened her eyes, she didn't say a word. A welcoming smile graced her lips. She looked satisfied somehow, like Mona Lisa. It was a little unnerving. “Honey, are you okay? You're so pale. Oh, what happened to you, Jennifer? Where were you for four days?” Cindy sobbed, bursting into tears. “Oh, Jennifer, welcome back, darling. How do you feel?”
Nurse Richards rushed into the room, gingerly raising her arm to check her pulse, all the while grinning from ear to ear. After checking the rest of her vital signs, she pronounced them normal. “How are you feeling, sleepyhead?” Nurse Richards asked, straightening the blankets.
Jennifer turned her head slowly, like Linda Blair, to look her in the eyes. “I don’t feel anything. Where’s Claire?” she whispered.
A funny look came across the nurse’s face as Cindy stepped in to intervene. “Oh honey, she’s fine, I’m sure, but we’re so happy you are all right. We came close losing you.”
***
The day of release from the hospital finally arrived. Dr. Collins gave Jennifer a once-over, making sure his instructions for the new medications were clear. He'd put Jennifer on an antipsychotic to help with her nightmares and a mild antidepressant. He took the time to explain Jennifer’s short-term memory loss, and what to expect during and after she began remembering—IF she remembered—and they left the sterile beige hospital room for the last time.
“I can’t believe I get to see my bedroom again,” Jennifer giggled with excitement.
“Yes, dear, that and resting as much as possible,” her mother replied.
“Rest, are you kidding? As soon as I walk in the door, I’m calling Claire and the gang.”
Cindy gasped. She wasn’t able to tell her about any of that yet. How was
she to explain Claire’s disappearance without it upsetting her to the point she became ill again? The police presumed Claire dead, and the other four girls, too. Trouble already started and they hadn’t left the hospital yet. They strolled down the hallway nearing the nurse’s station. Dr. Collins handed over the release forms with written instructions to follow and shook every hand, a good-bye grin on his face. It didn't reach the sadness in his eyes.
Cindy read about the negative outcome of patients with amnesia, and she knew she couldn’t expect Jennifer to remember what happened overnight. She might not ever regain a large chunk of her past, but the main importance was to do what they could, and worry about the rest later.
“Are you ready to go?” her dad asked.
“As ready as I’ll ever get.” Like a new person again, Jennifer put a smile on her face, popping a Tic-Tac on her tongue. If only the bad taste would leave her mouth. It tasted like death.
***
Walking across the plains in solitude would be preferable to this room, as Claire would only have herself to contend with. There was evil in this room. With her. Claire slipped down the stairs, peeking into the paper-strewn study. She simply had to escape, to break free from the ungodliness she sensed. She crept through the old house, not making a sound.
She wanted to leave this wicked place if it meant risking her life. As she started for the door, a familiar gentleman’s voice called out to her, the same one that spoke to her previously. “If you leave Claire, I can’t protect you.”
She stepped onto the porch defiantly. “I don’t belong here in this madness. I want to go home to be with my parents and my friends.” Her voice shouted in her mind.
She felt silly talking to something she couldn’t see. All she wanted at that point was to find someone to soothe her delusional mind, someone to tell her she could go home. What if the voice she heard could help her escape? She gave it a thought, and turned around. Dumbfounded and trembling, Claire backed toward the porch railing the moment her eyes caught sight of the interior of the house.
Were her eyes deceiving her? The house looked freshly built, and through the door, a gorgeous paneled living room invited her to sit down. The wallpaper above the wainscoting gleamed; the camelback sofa was new, with a green plaid print. The floors were perfect shiny oak, and the windows stood with pride, crowned with magnificent brocade draperies. A Tiffany lamp glowed softly on a wooden table beside a soft leather chair that invited you to sit.
Tiptoeing through the living room, she called out to the familiar voice. “Talk to me. I need you to talk to me. Who are you?” While waiting to hear the voice again, she sat down on the sofa.
The house, and the sky, turned to darkness. A ghostly image of a man loomed before her. The ghost wavered and faded in and out. Claire melted as far back on the sofa as the fabric allowed, shocked beyond belief. “Claire, my sweet darling, Claire; I have missed you so.”
She couldn’t believe what she heard. Could it be who she thought it was? She leaned forward to examine his features. “Grandpa, is that you?”
A bright smile warmed his face, and when he walked closer to her, he became real, whole, yet strangely transparent. Reaching his hand out, he answered, “Yes, I am your grandpa.”
Claire let most of her fears vanish from her mind. She wrapped her thin arms around his neck, not wanting to let go. “Oh, Grandpa, I've missed you so.”
With kindness in his voice, he said, “I knew you would need me. I have been with you for a while now. You have to trust me, Claire, it's important you listen to everything I tell you. Something evil is out to hurt you.” He pressed his transparent hands against her cheeks, and stared into her saddened eyes.
Tears rolled down her face. “Grandpa, it’s my fault. I caused all of this to happen. My friends are dead because of me.”
His gentle touch warmed her soul. “Claire, listen to me. You have to stop torturing yourself. It’s not going to change. Besides, I have seen your friends. I know you wouldn’t want to see them the way they are now.”
Confused by what he said, she had to know what happened to them. There were so many questions she needed answered. But what did she want to hear first? For that matter, what could she handle? The old man leaned his head back against the chair.
“What is this place that keeps us confined?” she asked.
He sneered, muttering, “Maddie Ann’s playground.”
As the words rolled from his lips, the room shrank around her. She lost all hope of ever being free. She would die here. Angered, her arms and legs grew numb. She slumped over the sofa, buried her face into a throw pillow screaming in agony. “Claire, please. Stop crying and listen before it’s too late. You have to understand what I’m about to tell you. I know this is going to be hard for you to grasp, but this has been my reality for a while.”
Raising from the pillow and staring into his weary face, she didn’t take her eyes off him. The familiar dread gnawed at her gut. His image faded, but his words were clear. “It's your reality, too. You are here forever, my dear. I'm sorry.”
“What do you mean, forever? Am I dead? Is this purgatory? I don't think so. I'm out of here.”
Jumping off the sofa, she lurched for the doorway and freedom when she heard her grandpa yell out, “Don’t run, sweetheart. You can’t change your problem. You have to face this like an adult, Claire. Grow up.”
If ever she wanted to get out of her misery, it was now. She couldn’t bear to think she wasn’t ever going home or to freedom; she held out hope. Maddie Ann controlled her now and she was the one black soul she’d have to avoid until she found those gates. She could make it. But remembering the hellish moments she'd survived until now, Claire slumped down on the sofa to listen to the rest of her grandpa’s story. She couldn’t bear to hear more bad news.
“I don’t know if you ever remember your grandmother telling you how I passed?” When she nodded, he continued. “Well, that wasn’t all of what happened.”
Hands fisted and her eyes wide open with worry, whatever the truth was, she wasn’t so sure she wanted to hear it. She clamped her lips in a tight line and folded her arms across her bosom.
“Claire, I know this is hard for you, but believe me, I went through the same nightmare as you.” He shook his head, sucking air through his teeth like he always did.
She turned away from his trembling voice. Claire became nauseated. She glanced at him. He gave a heavy sigh as if he wanted her to say something, anything.
She sat gazing into his glassy eyes. “Grandpa, you passed away because of an accident. Grandma told me you had an accident on your way home from plowing the fields.”
“That’s not true Claire. Your grandma told you that because she didn’t think you could handle the truth and the truth is, it was a semi-truck that hit me just outside of town when I was on my way to Ashland. It happened so fast, I don’t recall every detail, but as I stumbled from the wreckage, I saw a bright light across the field near this cemetery and walked toward it. Once I stepped through this beam of light, hell broke open and I’ve been here since.”
Claire noted how grandpa struggled to confront his past, as well as accepting what was his present and future. At his age, this never should have happened. He should have been granted the grace to die beside his loving wife of 52 years.
“I remember these shrill sounds piercing my eardrums and dark cloudy things floating above my head in a circle. I felt ashamed of whom I was and then suddenly my past life loomed before me as if I watched it on a big screen. It was torture but not like any torturing you’ve ever experienced. Hands came out of nowhere. Thousands of them pushed me toward the ground and I curled in a ball like a child weeping for mercy. Their fetid breath covered my body and their fiery red eyes went through my soul like a laser, leaving a deep sadness in the pit of my stomach that I can’t explain.”
Claire studied her grandpa’s face. Knowing he had to endure this all by himself made her heartache. She remembered the unpleasant welcome she r
eceived the moment she passed through the gates, but at least her friends stood beside her as long as they could. “Grandpa, I’m so sorry.”
She guessed what was to come, but couldn’t express her true feelings. Instead, gazing into her grandpa’s eyes, she listened as he continued the story.
“I’m not sure what the entities meant to convey, but after exposing me with their poison, something firm lifted me from the core of these beings and I ran. I ran so fast the world around me became a blur. I didn’t know where I was. All I saw were trees, dead trees to be exact, and clumps of cracked earth scattered about. And at the last minute when I thought this was it for me, I turned around and a much brighter light than before shined in my face. Outside the wooded area was the field beside the house.”
Pausing for a moment, Clair's grandpa frowned. “It happened so long ago; getting the story straight means I have to remember it all.”
“I was ten when you disappeared. That's a long time to spend in this place alone. If you don’t want to finish the tale, I understand,” Claire said holding her hand out to comfort him.
Maddie Ann s Playground Page 9
