Phantom

by Thomas Tessier

  When Ned finally looked around to survey the new territory, what he saw took his breath away. Lynnhaven's old spa was situated in a gentle hollow at the top of the hill, and Ned was evidently perched on the outer wall's highest point, for the entire inner acreage sloped gradually away, giving him a disturbingly good view of the place. The main building, a grotesque double-winged structure with turrets, stood on the far ground several hundred yards away from Ned, looking like the shattered castle of some demented and defeated prince. The vast expanse in between was a jungle of choked and twisted vegetation, broken up by an astonishing network of lower inner walls. It was a honeycomb, a maze—but no, as Ned studied the scene more carefully he could see definite patterns emerging. This was no random piece of work. Here the walls were built to form an equilateral triangle, there a perfect circle and, further over, a rectangle. Other shapes suggested themselves to his eyes, but in many places the growth of stunted trees and layered vines made it impossible for Ned to be sure. It was clear, however, that all the inner walls were connected, forming a multitude of geometric figures running to the outer wall in places and also right to the main building. To Ned's mind the whole remarkable panorama conjured up images of forgotten history and legend—a small medieval town with its royal palace, say, or an ancient Inca stronghold and sacred temple. Strange people once dwelled here, and perhaps strange creatures too, for which there were no names. Now all were gone and dead—yes, that was it. There would be death here. Even from outside the walls Ned had sensed it, the afterglow, the radiation of death that lingers so long.

  But it didn't bother him now. Ned felt as if he had just set foot on a new continent, and he all but trembled with the excitement of it. This was more, much more than the ruin he had expected to find. It was a puzzle on a monumental scale, and it raised Ned's exploration to a dramatic level of challenge.

  Not far from where he sat, another wall offered access to the interior. When he reached it Ned was pleased to find that the inner walls were only about eight feet tall, a height much easier to cope with. Taking care, he could stand erect and walk on the tops of the walls from one end of this incredible place to the other, back and forth, until he had seen anything there was to see. Then he could easily find the best place on the outer wall from which to jump down.

  The first few areas of the estate that Ned inspected were disappointingly alike: snarls of thorny weeds, man high, filling the divided spaces so that he had to look hard along the base of the wall to see the ground. They were like enormous, vile salads, Ned thought, and there was no way of even guessing why the walls had been laid out the way they were or to what use the enclosed sections had been put. He did notice, however, that every inner wall had a door or an archway built into it. Many of these openings were bare, but quite a few of the original doors remained intact—heavy slabs of bleached, warped lumber. There were no passageways or lanes between walls; one area opened directly to each of those that surrounded it, and thus all were connected. The plan may have been very clear and simple, Ned thought, but you would still want a map to find your way around down there, especially if you were going from the main building to a crescent-shaped pocket like this one, where only a couple of people could fit in at a time. What was the point of building such a tiny enclosure—or indeed what was the point of building the whole place like this? Ned walked on, but the more he saw the less sense it made to him. Didn't Peeler and Cloudy say people came to the spa to do something about their health? But this place didn't look like any hospital or clinic Ned had ever seen.

  Nor was it uninhabited. Almost as soon as he moved away from the outer wall Ned heard the noises—a stirring here, a brushing whisper behind him, the soft tramp of steps taken off to one side. Now and then he would turn quickly, in time to see a branch still shaking or to catch a glimpse of some undefined figure moving in the undergrowth. At first it meant nothing to Ned. Just animals, he told himself. But the sounds worked away at his mind and eventually he stopped, cold and nervous. What about the swamp people—could they be up here, a gang of them hiding out in the abandoned ruins? He looked all around, but the only thing he noticed was that the outer wall now seemed to be dangerously far away. Ned had gotten himself pretty much into the center of the ruins. He continued on toward the main building, half expecting a crowd of deformed savages to leap out of the flora at any moment and pull him down from the wall. Don't think about it, just hurry up and get out of here. Otherwise ...

  Ned stopped when he came to the circle. It was much larger than it had looked from the outer wall. In fact, it now appeared to be the single largest part of the place he had seen yet. But that wasn't what stopped him. The circle had the same dark green foliage as the other areas, but here it halted in the center, forming a second circle of open space with a diameter of about ten feet, as far as Ned could judge. He couldn't see the ground at that spot, but the hole in the middle of the weeds was unmistakable. Thus the circular wall seemed to be filled with an immense wreath. But if this was puzzling, it had other, more unnerving features. Ned heard the sound that came from the center hole—a steady, deep slurping noise, as if the earth itself had formed a terrible mouth there, gurgling, sucking .... And, rising through the air above the vegetation, was a mist so thin Ned hadn't seen it until he had come to the circle, a stream of pale vapor issuing from that giant, unseen orifice .... An image came to Ned's mind of a mythical ogre, a monster buried in the earth, pinned in place by the chain of walls and dense ground cover, breathing smoke from the "Only part of him exposed to the air, waiting for the chance to break free and stalk the land .... Grateful that he couldn't actually see what was down there in the center of the circle, Ned hurried on, trying not to make the least sound that might disturb a sleeping giant.

  As he drew closer to the main building he became aware of a change in the sectored grounds. The jungle of wild growth thinned out somewhat, and in places it consisted of nothing more than brindle grass stitched through with the usual brambles. Now Ned knew what it was that bothered him about this berserk garden. Wherever he looked, whatever grew, the color was not quite right. All of the greenery had a bluish-black tinge to it. Ned thought his eyes might be playing tricks on him, or that it was simply the way the sun hit the leaves in a thin, brittle shine, but the more he studied the scene the more he became convinced that these were bizarre and poisoned plants, varieties that continued to grow but that had gone bad over the course of many years.

  In the shadow of the mansion Ned saw the remains of several small outbuildings—windows, doors and roofs all destroyed. Perhaps they had once been cottages, bath houses and changing rooms. A bent, rickety skeleton was all that was left of a greenhouse. The inner walls ended here, about forty yards from the main spa building, looping around to the right and left to join the outer walls at the extreme end of either wing. The scrubby open ground was broken only by wide stone stairs that led up to a terrace and the tall, boarded-up doors of the spa. Large urns still stood at various points along the balustrade. The lower windows were all blocked up with sheets of corrugated metal, while the upper ones were as open as the eye sockets of a skull, but inaccessible.

  Maybe I won't be able to get into the building after all, Ned thought, but perhaps that isn't such a bad thing. The place looked anything but inviting, and Ned had visions of ghastly things lurking in dark corners within—an army of rats, spiders as big as a grown man's hand, trapdoors that opened to nests of snakes and swooping vampire bats ....

  He stayed on the wall and decided to follow it around to the place where it met the outer wall and the right wing of the building. Ned took another look back at the route he had just covered, and he felt both thrilled and relieved, like someone who had just tiptoed through a perilous no-man's-land between the edge of the world and the abyss of hell. Now all he had to do was lower himself down from the outer wall and head for home.

  But then he saw that it might yet be possible to gain entry to the spa building. The last window in the right wing was only a
couple of feet from the spot where the walls touched and at about the same level as the coping stone on the outer wall. The corrugated metal in this window appeared to be loosely propped in place, not nailed tight. If it had been a matter of hopping from the wall to the window ledge, with nothing to hang onto, Ned might have decided it was too risky, considering that (he drop to (he ground was about ten feet here. But this window, like every one in both wings, had a low wrought-iron grille set in the concrete casing—and that made it easy.

  Ned knew it was late in the day and that the sensible thing would be to go home so that he would be there in plenty of time for supper. He had found the way, he could return whenever he wanted, tomorrow even, and resume his exploration of the spa. Yes, that was the sensible thing to do.

  But ... Ned was here now, and it seemed silly to have come so far only to turn away just when he had reached what might be the best part of the expedition. If he left now he would be awake all night, wondering what he had missed. The corrugated metal leaned there, glinting dully in the sunlight, so close, an invitation rather than a barrier. How easy it would be to push it to the inside, to the fortress heart and headquarters of the dead spa. To the center of it all. The ruined walls outside were amazing, but who knew what might be found inside? The rusty hulks of Frankenstein machines, perhaps, or a closet full of skulls and bones .... It was frightening, but there was no other way of seeing what the spa was like, and maybe even finding out what people had done there. It was frightening, but irresistible. No, of course he couldn't leave now. There might not be enough time to go through the whole place, nor even all of this wing, but he could look at a few rooms and then, having planted his flag, make it home before supper had gathered too much dust. Ned moved.

  What followed was a far more threatening version of his first attempt on the spa wall. As soon as Ned got his weight onto the grille, part of it ripped free of the weak, powdery cement and tilted out away from the building. Terrified, he could do nothing but hang on, and then it gave way completely, rushing him to the ground below. He landed on his back in a patch of spongy plants that cushioned the blow and spared him serious injury. But the wind had been knocked out of him and for a while all he could do was lie there, stunned, until things slowly began drifting back into focus and he realized what had happened to him. .

  I'm trapped.

  Before, he had been above, looking down from the safe height of the walls, surveying the grounds almost casually. But now he was down, well and truly caught within the confines of the spa. There was a feeling of dread in him, the fear that he had crossed an invisible line, taken that one step too many—and that now he would pay for it. I have to get to the terrace and find a way out of here, Ned told himself urgently. Otherwise ...

  Ned shoved the treacherous wrought-iron grille off his chest, and in doing so became aware of the fact that he was sinking. Something cold and wet oozed through his clothes and it felt as if the earth were trying to draw him into itself. He tried to push himself up, but his hands plunged into creamy black mud that nearly caused him to vomit. Dimly, it made sense to him. This corner of the property, well shaded by the building and wall, had turned to swamp, and he had fallen into it ... quicksand? Ned had never seen quicksand, except in the movies, but in his mind the word was as touchy and potent as nitroglycerine. One person alone could never escape from it. When it got in your ears you stopped thinking, your brain was instantly dead. Like the Sandman, it filled you, seeping into your nose and mouth, blinding your eyes. And in the end, you disappeared forever.

  Ned forced himself to concentrate; panic would only make matters worse. If that was possible. He remembered what he was supposed to do. Lie flat and make no violent moves. Your body is light, he thought, even if it doesn't feel that way. It is light enough to stay on the surface, if you let it. Eyes closed, Ned lay still. It's all part of the same rule, he reminded himself. The only difference is, you're not in bed now and you can feel the demon danger through your clothes and on your hands, you can smell it. Ned expected the awful slime to flow into his ears at any second, but it didn't. The rule was working once again. Finally, he opened his eyes. The forbidding face of the spa building towered over him, and Ned wouldn't have been surprised to hear it boom out, What a puny fool you are to enter here. Ned turned his head slightly and saw that he hadn't sunk any farther. It might just have been the pressure he'd exerted trying to push the heavy grille away, or so he tried to convince himself. Anyway, the springy clumps of weeds seemed to be holding him up somehow, and he would have to use them if he was going to escape the foul mire.

  Slowly, patiently, Ned raised his body an inch or two and shifted it sideways. He made progress this way, as long as he kept his movements short and gentle. But if he reached too far or pushed a little too hard, his hands would slip through the bog plants into the muck again.

  "Aaaugghh!"

  He had come face to face with a fat, shiny creature about three inches long that looked like a snail without a shell. Ned grabbed the disgusting thing with the tips of his fingers and flung it as far away as he could. Was it a leech, a bloodsucker? It must be, and if there was one there would be others .... Ned shuddered and worked backward, awkwardly inching his way across the swamp. He saw himself, in his mind, as a kind of human crab crawling laterally on its back.

  Abruptly, he discovered that he was on firm ground—had been for several yards. He jumped up, patting down his hair and body until he was sure there were no leeches on him. Ned trembled—from the damp, he told himself. Now he looked around to get a better idea of his position. He didn't know how much time had been lost, but he no longer cared how late it would be when he got home-as long as he did get home. The terrace still appeared to be the best, perhaps only chance he had, and Ned started for it. Along with the two huge doors, a number of windows faced onto the terrace, so he would try to get into the building through one of them and then out again on the front side. If that didn't work, he could stand on the balustrade and look for a place where he might be able to get back up onto the wall.

  Before Ned reached the terrace, however, he stumbled through a brake of brushwood and found himself looking at a door set in the base of the building. The cellar, naturally—any building this big was sure to have one. He hadn't seen the door sooner because the plants had screened it from view. The door was wedged into its stone frame, but after repeated yanking it popped open, rattling on its corroded hinges.

  Now the way was clear, the fortress breached, but Ned hesitated. The late afternoon light illuminated only the first few feet of the interior, leaving the rest in utter darkness. He would be wandering around in that darkness, in the bowels of an enormous mansion he was completely unfamiliar with, unaided by the flashlight and matches that were in his bedroom at home. Was this really such a good idea? Ned blamed himself again for being so careless. You think you know what you're doing, but you always find out the hard way that you don't. This moment seemed to sum up everything about the day's venture. With luck, or else by doing something the wrong way, Ned had made progress. But he had reached the threshold in more ways than one. He knew it wouldn't be wise to suppose he had any luck left, and he also knew that if he did something wrong inside the building it would be his last mistake. His allotted number, Ned sensed, had been used up. Once he got in there, could he find his way out of the building by himself? Could he deal with whatever he might encounter in that darkness (at least he had been able to see that leech)? The answers to these questions were Probably Not and No. Well, he could still try the wall again.

  No. The door was open and Ned decided that he might as well finish what he had started. Besides, his eyes would adjust to the darkness so he wouldn't be totally blind. Some light must get through in there. It required a certain amount of caution and common sense, that was all. This door led to the basement beneath the right wing of the building, so he would just have to work his way to the left until he found stairs. When he got out of the cellar the going would be much easier; plenty of
light must filter in on the upper floors. It seems like a hard thing to do, Ned reasoned with himself, until you take a second look at the problem and break it down, and then you find it's simple. Sort of.

  It was like stepping into a black pit where the air conditioning was on high. The temperature in the cellar felt thirty degrees cooler than outside. Enough light came through the doorway to show Ned that he was in a small room, and he could just make out another door in the wall ahead of him. It opened easily, but the outside light died at that point. Ned moved into the next room and waited for his eyes to adjust. Every room must have a door, he thought. Rather than walk straight ahead it would be better to follow the wall until he found the next door. At last Ned came to the conclusion that his eyes were as ready as they would ever be, and that he. was not going to see much of anything. Taking a deep breath, he turned left and walked. The rectangle of pale light at the outside door was gone now, so it was all the more important that he concentrate on what he was doing. Ned kept the back of his left hand pressed against the wall, and he walked by sliding his feet along the gritty floor. He held his right hand out in front to warn him of any object in his path.

  He continued this way for a while, and then his left hand tapped wood instead of the rough stone wall. Okay, here was another door. Ned was about to open it when he paused to think again. He had been moving more or less parallel to the outside wall of the building, which meant that this door probably opened into a room similar to the first one he had entered. If so, it was of no use to him. Of course, it was always possible there was a stairway in there ... but probably not. Ned left the door shut and went on, encouraged by the possibility, a new one, that he was in a corridor that ran the length of the wing—and that he was advancing right to the center. Although it was uncomfortable to be in such overwhelming darkness, Ned tried to ignore it by closing his eyes and pretending the place was actually lit up, making a game of his task. It seemed to work, as he felt better and was moving faster. But then he opened his eyes, annoyed that he had been so foolish. With his eyes closed he would miss the telltale shaft of light that might signal stairs. Some game: he could wander here forever with his eyes shut.