by Sean Michael
Will looked at them like they were crazy. “Blaine? Are you with them on this?”
“I don’t know. Ghosts don’t…. I mean, I just don’t know.”
“Then how do you explain it?” Flynn asked. “I’d be happy for alternatives, believe me. But if this is a prank or something, well, then you guys must have pissed someone off pretty good. Have you?” He looked at each of the guys in turn.
“A prank? How do you make this a prank?” Will and Darnell looked confused as hell, while Jason seemed ramped up.
“Well, that’s my best alternative to it being real. What’s yours?” Ghost or not, this was happening, and it was physically hurting Blaine and freaking them all out on top of that.
Will looked at Darnell, who shrugged. “I got nothing, man.”
“Let’s get the equipment set up and see what we get.” Flynn left Blaine’s T-shirt off, the white of the Band-Aids stark against his skin.
“Like I said before, I want us to shoot Blaine’s wound too,” Jason added. “Just to have a record.”
“Yeah,” Flynn agreed. “Then we can show any changes that happen there too. Like how it now looks like someone scratched his skin open.” Flynn chewed on his lower lip, nerves eating at him.
“I didn’t do it, Flynn.” Blaine looked so serious.
“I believe you, babe. That’s what makes this so worrying. Something did. And if it can do that, who knows what else? I really don’t want to find out it can harm you even more than it has already.” He took Blaine’s hand and squeezed. “We are going to figure this out. That’s what we do, right?”
“I work on a farm and try to talk to ghosts on camera.”
“We actually hunt for the ghosts, though, right? We want proof that there’s specters haunting the places we go to? So we’re going to find evidence here, if there’s any to be found.” Though again, he was hard-pressed for any other reason why they were all hearing voices and Blaine had developed a bite that had turned into a bug’s burrow, and was now a sore that seemed to be getting bigger on its own.
“So let’s lay it all out for the camera.” Flynn nodded at Will, who hoisted the camera on his shoulder, the little red light blinking on to indicate it was taping. “You want to explain what we’re doing here, Blaine? Just like you would if we were out on a case.”
“Sure.” Blaine grabbed a T-shirt from the pile in the laundry basket in the hall and slipped it on before looking into the lens. “Hey, guys. This is my house—and four days ago we noticed a little bite on my shoulder.”
Flynn tried not to make a face because he knew Blaine didn’t like thinking about the maggot that had been inside him.
When Blaine didn’t explain further, though, he figured he should, as he was the one who’d had the best view of the thing. “It was a pretty big bite, actually. Looked like a human bite, and it had broken the skin. It was warm to the touch, and an area about the size of the bottom of a beer can was quite red. So we decided to doctor it by pouring some hydrogen peroxide on it—make sure it was cleaned out.”
Blaine continued. “I pushed on it and… man, there were bugs in it. Seriously, bugs.”
Flynn didn’t bother to correct Blaine that it had been one worm. That had been awful enough. “So we went to the hospital, and they checked it and pumped him full of antibiotics and sent him home. Now nobody has touched the wound except to change the Band-Aids, but now it looks like someone has been tearing at Blaine’s skin.”
Will moved in with the camera, and Jason pulled back the edges of the butterfly bandages to show the sore.
“Dude…. That’s nasty.”
“Don’t say that!”
Flynn shook his head. “It actually looks clean. I mean, it’s covering a bigger area, but it’s not nasty. Why don’t you tell them about room 204,” Flynn suggested to get Blaine’s mind off his shoulder.
“In 1984, Christian Singer died in room 204 from a brain tumor, and the family kept his lover, David Swans, from saying goodbye. By the time David got in to see Christian, it was too late.”
“Assholes,” muttered Darnell, and the others added their approval.
“It gets worse, though, doesn’t it?” Flynn prompted.
Blaine nodded. “David died in the hospital. In that room. Standing next to his lover’s body.”
“How did he die?” Flynn asked. Blaine was still being recalcitrant about sharing information on room 204, and Flynn was going to prod him until he’d divulged everything he knew. At this point, they all needed to be on the same page.
Blaine shook his head, and then they heard, “Room 204!”
“Did you hear that?” Flynn asked, looking into the camera. “None of us said that.”
“Room 204.”
“Blaine, I think you need to tell us what happened to David. How did he die?”
“How should I know? You guys looked it up.”
Jason went to the laptop. “I think he committed suicide, yeah?”
“Room 204.”
“Are you hearing this?” Will asked.
“I’m hearing it. In case you’re not picking it up at home, we’re hearing a voice saying room 204 over and over again.” And the more Blaine resisted, the louder it seemed to get.
“Yeah, he shot himself in the head.”
“Room 204.”
Blaine dropped his head into his hands. “It hurts.”
“We’re trying to figure out what’s here with us, and why it’s hurting Blaine, and how to get rid of it.” Flynn was worried the only way they were going to succeed was to go back to the hospital, but Blaine was resisting that big-time.
“Dude. Flynn, grab a Kleenex. His nose is bleeding.”
“Shit!”
Flynn grabbed some tissues and handed them to Blaine. “The more you resist talking about room 204, the more you wind up hurting.” He knew Blaine didn’t want to hear it, but it was what was happening. He had observational data on it now. “Don’t stop taping, Will.”
“I won’t. I’m getting it all.”
“Me too.” Darnell was taping from a different angle.
Flynn stayed with Blaine, made sure his nose stopped bleeding. He summarized for the camera while he was doing it. “So we have the medical death of one man and the suicide of his lover. All of this happened in room 204.”
“Room 204.”
“And someone or something seems to want us to investigate. I have a hunch it’s not going to stop unless we go to the hospital and check out the actual room 204.”
Blaine shook his head. “It’s a bad idea.”
“Room 204.”
“Room 204.”
“Room 204!”
It was shouted this time, and Flynn frowned, shook his head. “I’m not sure we have a choice. Whatever is here is hurting you, Blaine. We need to get this dealt with.”
Darnell’s face was gray, eyes huge. “I don’t like this, guys.”
“No, none of us do.” Flynn hated it, in fact. He wished it was happening to him and not Blaine. He still wouldn’t have been happy about it, but then at least Blaine would be safe. “But it came to us. Or followed us home or something.”
“Do we have footage of that room, man? From before?” Darnell looked to Jason, eyebrows arched.
Jason shook his head. “No. I don’t think we spent any time in there aside from some prelim stuff. Man, we should have checked the place out better.”
“No, we were up there. Me and Blaine, what, a year ago? You remember, man? Long time ago,” Darnell said.
Flynn looked to Blaine. “You have more to tell us about 204? Come on, babe, not talking is killing you.”
“We went in, filmed. It was just another room.”
“But you’re trying to keep me away from that room. You keep telling me how dangerous it is and asking me to stay away from it. How would you know if you were hardly in there and it’s just another room?”
“It’s just a bad idea, you know?” Blaine looked so serious.
“I believe y
ou, babe. But look around us—look at yourself. Not doing anything isn’t an option anymore.”
“Let’s look up the footage. I’ll call Jill and ask.” Jason grabbed his phone.
“We could always move out,” Flynn suggested. “Pack up and go across the country. I’m sure they’ve got haunted buildings on the West Coast.” It wasn’t really a suggestion, more of a tease, but the voice suddenly started screaming “Room 204!” over and over.
Blaine clapped his hands over his ears, and Darnell just headed for the door.
“Stop that!” he shouted. “We’re trying to figure it out, so just stop!”
“This is fucked up. We’re taking the stuff and heading to my place. Now.” Jason started grabbing laptops and camera cases.
Flynn was torn between wanting to get to the bottom of this and wanting to get away from it. He took one look at Blaine, whose nose had started bleeding again, and nodded. “Okay. Yeah. Let’s do it.”
“They’ve been there since the ’80s. Let’s go. We’ll call Blaine’s folks from my place.”
Flynn put his hand on Blaine’s thigh. “You want me to throw some of your stuff into a bag, babe?” He was pretty sure Blaine hadn’t even heard him.
“Grab his medical shit, and I’ll grab the pizzas.”
Flynn dashed upstairs and threw a change of clothes for both of them into a bag, along with the stuff for Blaine’s shoulder and their Kindles. He swore he could still hear “Room 204” echoing through the place, but he was putting that down to his imagination.
All the what-ifs ran through his head, maddening as a bunch of bees buzzing in his skin.
The biggest one was what if something happened to Blaine. What if this injured him worse than he already was?
Flynn shook himself and joined the guys out at Will’s van, letting Blaine lock the barn. Jase and Darnell had their own cars there in the driveway. “Who are you two riding with?” Jase asked.
“Will has more room in the van, I guess,” Flynn replied. “Here, Blaine. You take the front seat.” He opened the door for Blaine, who was already looking less pained.
Blaine climbed in without an argument and settled with his eyes closed.
Flynn hated what this was doing to Blaine. This was way more serious than any of them had signed on for. They were supposed to look for and document ghosts, not find themselves in the middle of a horror movie.
“This is some crazy shit. Do you think you were the catalyst, Flynn?” Will swung up into the seat and then started the van as Flynn climbed in.
“Me?” Of course it had started when he’d joined the team. They’d been to the hospital without him plenty of times already. “Maybe. I don’t know.”
“Hey, if you are, it’s not like you’re at fault, huh?”
“Sure, that’s easy to say.” He chewed his lower lip. “Blaine doesn’t want me anywhere near room 204. I mean, like, violently doesn’t want it. But every time he says that or refuses to talk about stuff, that damn voice starts up again.”
“We’ll figure it out, all five of us.” Will grinned at him, winked. “Right, Blaine?”
Blaine shook his head. “You have to stay away from room 204. It’s not safe.”
This again. Flynn sighed. “I don’t know. Not going seems pretty dangerous too.”
Blaine turned and pinned him with a sure look. “It’s important.”
“Explain to me how not going to room 204 is more important than going so we can get rid of whatever it is that’s haunting our asses. I won’t go if you don’t want me to, Blaine—but you can’t just say ‘it’s dangerous.’ You have to tell me why I can’t go.”
“I don’t know! I just know.”
Will gave him a look in the rearview mirror, but Flynn ignored him in favor of leaning in and grabbing Blaine’s arm, giving it a squeeze. “Okay, babe. Okay. I will promise you that I will be really careful, and that I won’t go to room 204 without letting you know.” He wasn’t going to promise not to go at all, because what if that was the only way to save Blaine? If that was the case, then dammit, he was doing it.
“Thank you. Thank you, honey.” Blaine relaxed, went boneless.
Christ, he didn’t understand what was going on. Not at all. It wouldn’t have been so bad—oh, it still would have grated; he was into finding things out and exposing them after all—but it was clearly hurting Blaine, and that meant he couldn’t just ignore it.
He put his head back and closed his eyes as Will drove them to Jase’s place.
At least the damn voice screaming room 204 at them had finally quieted.
Chapter Thirteen
THEY ate the pizza first, and there might have been more than a couple of beers before anyone wanted to talk.
Hell, Blaine wasn’t all that sure he wanted to talk regardless.
Flynn touched his good arm, startling him out of his thoughts. “Let me check your shoulder, okay?”
“Yeah. Yeah, okay. I’m sorry about all this, guys. Really.”
Jason snorted. “How’s it your fault?”
“Yeah, exactly. You’re the one being hurt by it the most.” Flynn lifted his shirt and touched him lightly. “It’s not any worse. Might even be a little better.”
“We’re here. Ghosts don’t haunt piece-of-shit apartment buildings,” Darnell drawled.
Flynn chuckled softly as he settled next to Blaine. “I imagine they haunt what they need to haunt.”
“So, what do we know?” Will asked.
Jason shrugged. “There’s footage of when Will and Blaine did the room last year. Jill’s sending the file names so Flynn can look them up. I know that the brain-tumor guy had a family that didn’t let the lover in and that he got in after… an aunt smuggled him in, I think? A brother? Something. Then he died from an apparent suicide.”
Blaine shook his head. It wasn’t a suicide. He knew that, but he couldn’t know that, right? That was crazy. The man was out of his mind with grief and pulled a Romeo and Juliet.
“Not a suicide?” Flynn asked, eyes wide. “Someone killed him?”
“What?” Jason looked as confused as fuck. “Who said that?”
“Blaine—he shook his head no when you said the lover died from suicide.”
“Did I?” Had he? Really?
“Well, yeah. Didn’t you? Am I going crazy now?”
“No. No, I just… it was instinctual, you know? Like it didn’t feel right.”
Will held up one hand. “Wait. Let me set up the static cameras in case something happens, okay?”
Flynn nodded jerkily. “Yeah, yeah. Sure. Sorry I misinterpreted, babe. But what makes you think it wasn’t suicide? And who would have killed him?”
“Why would you bring a gun to a hospital to see your lover?”
Darnell nodded. “That’s what I was wondering.”
Flynn’s eyes went wide. “Oh man. You’re right. Somebody killed him, and they fobbed it off as a suicide. No wonder his spirit is unquiet. We need to make this right.”
“Guys! No more words until cameras are rolling!” Will’s voice was disgusted. “You are the worse wannabe celebrities ever.”
That broke the tension that had begun to build again, and they all burst out laughing.
Blaine grabbed the last piece of pizza, then offered half to Flynn. Huh. Must be love.
“Thanks, man.” Flynn scarfed it down, then chased it with the last few mouthfuls of his beer. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”
Yeah, they’d been too busy being fucking haunted.
“Okay, we’re rolling. Now you can talk to your heart’s content.” Will came back and sat. “Did you get the file names for the film yet, Jase?”
“Not yet. Blaine, Flynn, why don’t you both go back to talking about the new discovery about David’s supposed suicide?”
“Well, I don’t know that it’s a discovery. I just feel—strongly feel—that it wasn’t a suicide.” Blaine believed it, and every time he said the words, he believed it more.
�
�Yeah, we were talking about it, and we couldn’t help but wonder why someone would take a gun to the hospital to visit their sick loved one. I mean, he wasn’t planning to kill himself, was he? He was trying to see his lover and didn’t know Christian had died.” Flynn looked like he was pondering things.
“Right,” Blaine agreed. “And was there anything to say that David was violent? What did he do for a living? Did he have a criminal record? What about Christian?” Away from the barn and the shouting voice, Blaine could think again, and his brain was crowded with questions.
“Looks like it’s time for some old-fashioned research.” Flynn grinned. “I know this one has an unhappy ending, but I do like a good mystery.”
Jason nodded, fingers tip-tapping away at his keyboard. “There’s got to be more information here than we thought there would be.”
“Well, you never looked that hard to begin with, right?” Flynn asked. “I’m not saying you did too little, just that you didn’t need to look into it that deep, right?”
“I only had the basics, until you asked about it today.”
“Okay, then. I guess we should start digging. Figure out what exactly happened with Christian and David, look into their lives.”
“Yeah. Yeah, okay,” Blaine agreed. “Flynn, you and Darnell can hunt up the film from that night, and I’ll work with Will on the footage we just shot.”
“And I’ll keep digging on the net,” Jase added.
“Rock on.” For the first time in a while, Blaine felt like he could breathe. Really breathe.
“It’s always good when a plan comes together,” Flynn noted.
“It’s something, all right.” Blaine grinned, though. “Let’s see if we can hear anything from the barn footage.”
Flynn stopped what he was doing to listen in.
They were there, looks of true panic on their faces, but the ghostly voice was nonexistent.
“How is that possible?” Flynn asked. “We were all there. We all heard it. It was damn loud at some points!”
“I don’t know. I don’t….” Blaine stopped and tilted his head. “What the fuck was that?”
“What?” Flynn crowded him and hit Rewind.
“Look.” Blaine was reflected in the mirror above the fireplace. The glass was shaking, shimmering, and he swore there was someone behind him, draped over his shoulders.
