The Listener

by Christopher Carrolli

  He witnessed the vision change, fast-forwarding through the passing years when he learned everything that Dylan had referenced on clairaudience. He studied for hours in the campus library and sometimes well into the night, reading up on cases around the world. He delved vigorously into the area of child psychics, after all, he’d been one of them, and discovered that most of what had occurred in his childhood was not so unusual.

  Within a few years, the three had become close friends and working partners. They brought him on ghost hunting expeditions and locations of hauntings, and many times Sidney was able to hear the spirit, ghost, or the often malignant, unseen presence. He’d studied his ability through his psychic research, engrossing himself in it constantly, until there was nothing left to learn.

  He had become an expert, and they had become a trio.

  Then one day, a beautiful, petite, young girl had also walked through the door of Room 208. She had been a formidable counterpart in every opposite aspect of the word; she could see the dead. She’d sought out the society because at the young age of nineteen, her experiences had turned her into a paragon of psychic phenomena.

  Leah Leeds had also been the age of five when she first began to see spirits. Her parents had lived in an old manor house on Cedar Drive that was not too far from where Sidney had lived, and he knew the house by sight. She told of it having been haunted, and how spirits, ghosts, visions, and poltergeists had tormented her at such a young age. Her mother had died in that house, the same house where her father had left his sanity behind, and the haunting memories continued to plague her as an adult.

  Sidney taught her most of what he’d learned about psychic abilities in children, and they researched and studied together. The society had approached Leah with the idea of writing about her experience in that house and composing it into a memoir exclusively published for the society, a task which he’d helped her complete. The final product had been a shocker to all who had read it. Together, they had solved only a small part of the mystery behind that house.

  The four of them had become like siblings, and when not undertaking expeditions, they sat quietly dwelling in their close-knit, safe haven, studying, researching, keeping clear and open minds ready for whatever paranormal occurrences awaited their expertise.

  Dylan and Brett did not actually possess psychic abilities, but their knowledge and experience was infinite on a grand scale. They were technical wizards, capable of understanding and maintaining the various electromagnetic technologies used to identify paranormal phenomena. They were a scholarly ensemble, yet a motley crew, as Sidney and Leah became perfect fitting pieces to an incomplete puzzle.

  Now the young boy that Sidney had seen earlier entered the ever-changing scene. He had been one of Sidney’s brief subjects of study; his reddish-brown hair and deep green eyes were vaguely familiar. His inner instinct told him that he was seeing the memory of this boy for a reason; he searched his mind to remember his name. The boy ogled him with a far-away look in his eyes, almost coaxing Sidney to remember, and then he spoke...

  “The back roads, Sidney...remember...the back roads.”

  He recognized the voice, the voice of the boy he’d heard the night of Tracy Kimball’s accident. It was him. He was the living voice that had told him where to search for Tracy. The boy’s name was forming in his mind like a blooming bud on a May morning. Then suddenly, it came to him...

  “Ryan!” He shouted out the name he’d so desperately fought to recall. Ryan, it was Ryan. Ryan was the listener. Of course, it made sense now; Ryan could hear the living, as well as the dead! He must have been listening during the search for Tracy, and he was trying to help.

  Ryan continued to stare at him with eyes that were strangely and silently pleading. Sidney recalled that Ryan had been brought to the team by his mother. Later, she’d stopped the sessions with them, the same way his parents had with Susan. And as soon as that thought crossed his mind, Ryan was gone.

  * * * *

  The blinding whiteness surrounded him once again as the various chronological scenes of his life had come to a close like the end of a movie, yet no credits rolled by. Only the thick fog of the whiteness that greeted him early on remained, encircling and engulfing him in a rapturous hold. He looked every which way around him, so difficult to see through the white, yet the outline of something moved toward him.

  What was it? In this state of being, he was without his glasses, and he squinted to see what object moved before him. As the outline neared, he realized it was no object—it was a person, coming toward him through the whiteness. He watched as the figure moved gracefully through the fog.

  His heart leapt and broke in a combination of joy and sorrow as he recognized the figure that came closer. Her long, brown hair appeared different, feathered, luxurious, while her face was refined, tight, and youthful, devoid of the light wrinkles and sagging eyes that had resulted in life from her vice. Even Tracy Kimball’s gray eyes gleamed as she neared him, an angelic smile spread across her beautiful face.

  “Hello, Sidney.” Her voice was soft and harmonious, rising into the air with a minute echo. She walked right up to him as the tears rolled down his face. Then slowly, she reached out with the same ruffle-sleeved hand he’d touched in the casket, and she took his hand. It was warm and soft, not dead and stone hard the way he remembered. His sobs were now groans that escaped his imprisoned heart, echoing out into the vast everywhere.

  “Don’t cry, Sidney. It’s so good to see you.”

  He clutched her in a gripping hug, her hair swiftly tickling his cheek. She smelled of lavender. He could feel her; she was real. Then he pulled away to catch a closer look at her face. Her hand reached up and wiped the tears from his eyes.

  “Tracy, I’m sorry.” He said, trying not to lose it, knowing that their time would be brief. She smiled back at him in wonder.

  “Sorry for what, Sidney?”

  “I couldn’t save you! It was my job to save you, and I failed you! This is my fault!”

  Her smile dissipated, as though she scoffed at the sound of stupidity.

  “Sidney, it was not your fault, nor was it your job to save me. It was my job to save me, Sidney. Don’t you see, I willingly danced with fate, and it overcame me? I let my addiction get the best of me. You did so much for me, Sid, all of you did.”

  “But...how?” His voice was adamant, confused.

  “You brought me closer to David. You are the one who heard his warnings when it was my job to hear them. I failed to heed the warnings, Sidney, just like Leah said.

  “David?” Sidney asked, and Tracy smiled once again, nodding her head. She motioned with her eyes just over her left shoulder. Behind her, another figure moved in toward them, and soon he recognized the face he’d seen in the picture. It was David. His sandy brown hair and muscular form stepped closely behind her, and they stood together, a perfect and eternal couple.

  “Hello, Sidney,” he said, his arms encompassing his eternal bride. “Thank you.”

  Again, he protested with a tremor in his voice.

  “Sidney, don’t you see,” Tracy said. “I would have been damned by my own actions, but you brought me closer to David, and because you did, I am not. I am here, and he is here with me.”

  In a way, Sidney understood, but in another way, he didn’t. There wasn’t time to debate; his time was slipping away fast once again, just like the ghostly hourglass he’d raced to beat trying to save her.

  “Sidney, I am fine,” she said. “Unfortunately, you are not; that’s why you’re here. There isn’t much time left, Sidney...listen.”

  She motioned as he moved in even closer toward her, and she continued.

  “It’s Ryan, Sidney. You have to help Ryan; he’s in danger. Now that you remember him, you have to wake up, and you have to help him.”

  “In danger from what?”

  “Not from what, Sidney, from whom. You must hurry. I can’t tell you anymore, but Sidney, you were right about voices being familiar
during this journey. You were right, Sidney. Remember the voice—the one you know you’ve heard before.”

  He tried to think back on the order of the visions he’d experienced.

  “It’s about that time, buddy. Take care, until we meet again sometime.” David touched his shoulder when he spoke—so real.

  “Take care, my friend,” Tracy said, clutching her arms around him once again. “We will see each other again, I promise you.”

  He held onto her, crying, and then they were gone. The whiteness was clearing, being sucked away by the shifting of time. As it cleared, he could see the corridor once more. His movements were less weighted now, light as though he were gliding. The odd ultra-violet sun was nowhere to be found as he made his way through the corridor, searching for his way out.

  * * * *

  Dr. Greg Talbot had stitched the final sutures in Sidney Pratt’s head; he would awaken—hopefully soon. He remained stable, enduring the surgery as though he were in some dream-filled sleep state. Again, Talbot wondered what dreams and thoughts manifested inside the unconscious mind of a patient. Whatever it was for Sidney Pratt, it had helped him through.

  “That’s it,” he said. “Get him into recovery. When he wakes, we’ll know more about whether the surgery was a success. He should be fine and fully functional.”

  Talbot made his way to the scrub room, his hands held upward in the air. He would scrub, and then relay the news to Susan Logan that Sidney Pratt was going to make it.

  Chapter Seven

  They’d sat in the hospital lounge for over three hours, fearing, worrying, and silently praying. No one had told them anything about Sidney yet, so Brett and Dylan went to the hospitality shop to bring back food while they waited. Leah and Susan were now alone, giving them both a chance to discuss the disturbing visions that had been haunting Leah as of late. They sat comfortably inside, a warm relief from the cold October rain outside.

  “Leah, let’s start from where the visions began.” Susan automatically assumed the role of the highly effective psychiatrist that she was. Since the tragedy of Tracy Kimball, the hospital had discovered that Susan had long ago achieved yet another degree, one in Parapsychology. This fact she’d kept hidden out of fear of being the subject of ridicule, discredited, or even shunned. The hospital had no complaints, as they were not willing to lose their highly effective psychiatrist to another hospital.

  “The visions started right around the time that Tracy came to see us,” she said, her voice searching for the finest details inside her mind.

  “After Tracy met you all?” Susan asked, exploring the possibility of a connection to Tracy.

  “No, it started a little bit before that. I was seeing it all again when I was telling her about that time in my life. It was strange because that’s rarely happened to me since writing the memoir.”

  “You mean you were seeing the things that happened, in your mind, all over again? Well, that is normal isn’t it?” Susan tried the logical approach first.

  “No, I wasn’t seeing in my mind, or with my mind. I saw with my eye, my third eye. I saw the events happening again, in vision form.”

  Susan had known all about “third eye” and knew that Leah Leeds had possessed an eminently powerful one, but it was the first time she’d ever heard her use the phrase.

  “Tell me what you saw, Leah.” Her voice was soft, coaxing in the cozy lounge.

  “Lately, I’ve been seeing my mother. She hung herself in that house, and I keep seeing her hanging from the balcony, the noose around her neck, her body swinging, and her feet swaying beneath her skirt from above.”

  “But, you didn’t see that, am I right?” Susan knew the details of that house from treating Leah’s father, Paul, after the ordeal. She had also seen the police photos; Leah’s description was exact, like hitting a bull’s-eye with one hand.

  “I didn’t see it then, no. But, I think I have now.”

  “You mean you’re seeing with your third eye what you had been fortunate enough, at the time, not to see?”

  Leah’s lips spread in an ironic smile across her face, as if an ancient wisdom made the young seer certain of the answer. She closed her eyes and nodded affirmatively.

  “What do you think is causing you to see these things from the past with your third eye?” A thoughtful, unbroken silence passed between them as Leah thought, searching for a response.

  “I can’t be sure, but whatever it is has to do with that house. I can feel it.”

  Their unofficial session was abruptly interrupted by the slight squeak of the door as it swung open, and Dylan and Brett entered with pizza from the hospitality shop. Susan quickly changed the subject, and Leah showed no sign of her mounting distress. They sat eating and talking until a nurse entered the lounge. They stood to hear the news.

  “Please sit, no worries,” she said. “Dr. Talbot has informed me to tell you that Sidney Pratt is out of surgery.”

  “And?” Susan asked, approaching the nurse.

  “He is optimistic that Sidney should be fine as soon as he wakes up, but he’s not out of the woods, yet. The sooner he wakes the better. The surgery was an overall success.”

  Susan’s face dropped in relief as gasps of bottled tension expelled in unison.

  “Dr. Talbot said he will be in to see you, soon, Dr. Logan.”

  Susan thanked her as she left, and the four of them embraced at answered prayers.

  * * * *

  The sounds of their voices rose higher in pitch, ringing out through the hospital lounge, celebratory of the fact that they were not faced with yet another tragedy. But when the nurse returned within minutes, the celebration was cut with a sharp apprehension. The slight squint of her eyes displayed concern and confusion.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt, but there is a young boy here, insisting to see Sidney Pratt. He says he’s a friend. I told him he couldn’t see Sidney, right now, so he’s asked to see Dylan.”

  “A young boy?” Dylan asked.

  “He said you would know him.”

  Dylan told her to show him in, and after stepping out, she returned with the boy. The investigators recognized him immediately by his reddish-brown hair and deep green eyes.

  “Ryan! So good to see you, my friend. How did you get here?” Dylan asked, his tone skeptical, knowing the answer wouldn’t be good.

  “I walked,” he said. “I’m here to see Sidney. Is he okay?”

  “Sidney is going to be fine.” Susan stepped forward; the inquisitive look on her face wanted to know just who this boy was. “He is out of surgery, but we can’t see him just yet. I’m Dr. Logan; I’m Sidney’s friend also. Ryan, is it?”

  He nodded his head and continued.

  “I need to see Sidney, fast, as soon as he wakes up.” The urgency in his voice commanded their attention.

  “Does your mother know you’re here?” Leah asked, her eyes motioning to the rest of the team.

  “No, I snuck out, but I’m sure she knows I’m gone by now.”

  Dylan sighed, lifted his eyes, and lowered his head.

  “Okay, so, Ryan, you want to tell me what was so important that you would sneak out of the house and walk all the way across town to come here?”

  “I heard something, and you have to help me. There is a man coming to kidnap me because he couldn’t use Sidney for what he wanted. He knows about me because he listens, like I do.” Ryan’s words rolled off in a flurry, becoming so much information in so little time.

  “Okay, okay,” Dylan said, surprised, yet calming him. “Slow down, Ryan; I need you to think, and then tell me exactly what you heard.”

  Dylan and the others knew the extent of Ryan’s capabilities; however, Susan was unacquainted with the fact that the young boy’s abilities far outweighed even Sidney’s. Still, she watched in silent fascination.

  Ryan told them about hearing the man’s voice, about overhearing the phone conversation, and learning how the man had been stalking Sidney for years because he was also a li
stener. He told how the man mentioned his name, knowing about him because he was once a study subject of Sidney’s, saying that “the kid” was a more powerful listener. He needed Ryan for some secret project, and he was going to kidnap him.

  “When did you hear all of this?” Dylan asked.

  “I’ve been hearing things about Sidney for a few days now, ever since that girl was in the accident, but I started to hear this man today. I even remember his name.”

  “What was his name?” Dylan didn’t think there would be any relevance to knowing this mysterious man’s name, but if Ryan heard something that concerned Sidney, and if Ryan was in danger because of it, it was best that the team knew all that he had heard.

  “Hadley—his name was Hadley.”

  The look on Ryan’s face when he heard the astonishment erupt in the room was as though he’d said something wrong. Leah and Brett rose from the table and hurried forward, and Susan moved in a little closer to the boy.

  “Hadley?” Leah asked. “Roman Hadley?” The sound of incredulity in her voice spoke on behalf of the entire team.

  The impact of hearing Ryan name their unseen, anonymous society head caused the team to feel the substantial shock in unison. Ryan could not have made up this assertion because he had no idea who Roman Hadley was. They had never even met Roman Hadley; their contact with him had consisted of telephone conversations. Even Susan, newly inducted onto the board of directors, had only heard the name mentioned.

  If what Ryan was saying was true, then Hadley was using them, watching them, stalking his main interest, Sidney Pratt, from afar. There would be a connection if Hadley was a listener himself as Ryan claimed.

  “I never heard his first name, but he’s coming to get me! He can’t get to Sidney, and he said something about Sidney not being able to hear the living.”

  “Okay, Ryan,” Brett said, taking the boy aside. “Now, you know that we’re not going to let anything happen to you, right? You’re safe here with us; you’re in a hospital.”

  Dylan became speechless, and for the first time, unaware of how to handle the situation. He turned and looked at Susan, his expression pleading for help.