Wayward Souls: The Sequel to Beckoning Souls (A Psychological Thriller)

by J. R. Tate

  “Strange? Dad, I think we’re beyond strange. But if you think so, this time it’s gotta be completely outta left field for you to say something like that.”

  That makes him laugh, and it’s good to hear it. “I just… I can’t put my finger on it. Maybe I’ll know more after tonight. That seems to be when they’re the most active. Your mom has been in communication with me, but she says I’m not to help her right now. She says I gotta figure it out, and gut feeling is it’s either that Lenora child or someone in her family. Don’t ask me how I know that because I’m not even sure.”

  “I trust you, Dad. Can I ask you to do one thing for me?”

  “Sure, anything.”

  I sit up on the couch and move my phone to the other ear. “Keep in contact with me. Just check in. I’ll have no way of knowing if they find you.”

  “I will. Eventually I’m gonna need you to come get me. But for now, let’s hang low. I’m sure they have someone camped right by our driveway, watching, so keep that in mind. Now, can you do something for me?”

  I’m glad to hear he needs my help. I feel worthless just sitting around. “Of course! What’s up?”

  “I don’t have internet access so I can’t do it. Try to Google Dr. Clint. See if anything pops up about where he’s practicing now, or if he’s practicing now. The sooner we make contact with him, the sooner this all might calm down.”

  “Got it. I’ll see what I can dig up on him.”

  “Okay. Thanks, Russ. I gotta go. I’ll call you in a bit. And stay safe. These ghosts are turning violent. Don’t get yourself in trouble with them.”

  I know he’s not telling me everything. I can tell by the hesitation in his voice. I know that he’s physically gotten hurt, or he wouldn’t make sure to tell me that they’re getting violent. But I don’t press the matter. I don’t want to stress him out.

  “Okay, Dad. I’ll keep my phone nearby. I love you.” It’s something we don’t say often, but are getting used to.

  “I love you too, Russ.”

  And with that, the line goes dead and I’m left alone in the big, empty house with nothing but my imagination and the possibility of encountering some violent ghosts. Maybe I should go stay with Britney. What good am I doing here anyway? They won’t talk to me. They only want my father.

  But I can’t leave. If I do, I’m scared I’ll miss something important. I sit at the computer and click the monitor on. What is this Dr. Clint guy was discredited? And what in the hell is his last name? Surely it isn’t Clint.

  I type in Dr. Clint, Sunset Canyon State Hospital, and several articles pop up. There are numerous research studies that he has conducted over the years. I click one open – maybe I can find his last name within it.

  “Clint Sanderson,” I say out loud. That might give me a better search window, though his first name alone brought up some good stuff, but nothing about where he is now. I research him and as expected, a few more stories pop up.

  Headlines reading that Dr. Clint Sanderson has left Sunset Canyon due to a disturbing realization with a patient. Of course, my father isn’t mentioned, and that’s great that they are respecting his privacy. It is pretty vague, but mentions that everything Dr. Clint had studied before is all up in question, and he terminated his own contract with the hospital for personal reasons. To put it simple – my dad has scared the ever-living shit out of him, and now he’s wondering if everything he ever learned or thought he discovered is a straight up lie.

  I don’t know much about psychology, but it does exist. There are people out there depressed, bi-polar, and schizophrenic, so the science of it isn’t false just because of what is going on with my father. If I can find out where Dr. Clint Sanderson is now, it would help my dad’s credibility, and it would also answer the millions of questions now running through my head.

  I do another search and this time I type in Where is Dr. Clint Sanderson. It is the same search results I got a few minutes ago – various research articles and studies, and the information about him quitting with Sunset Canyon. I stare at the screen for a moment, feeling discouraged. I’ve always loved playing detective, so to speak, but with mental health, things are locked up tight. Could I find his name and address in a general search? How common is the name, Clint Sanderson?

  I duck my head and bury my face in my hands, taking a deep breath. My mind is going in so many different directions, and I can’t get a handle on it. I need to figure out a way to get my dad home without the cops knowing. If they see me leave, they’ll stop me and discover I’m not licensed. Or they’ll follow me right to him. He needs to find someone who will bring him out here, drop him off a few miles down the road, and he can sneak back in through the woods.

  Something behind me hits the floor with a loud crack and I turn, my heart skipping a beat. Walking to the object, I notice it’s the old metal crucifix we’ve had hanging in up since I was a kid. I remember looking at it as a kid when I was in trouble, feeling guilty as Jesus stared down at me. But now, I’m staring down at it – and though most people would find this a coincidence, I know it’s not. I know it’s another way the ghosts are talking to me, letting me know they’re not gone, nor do they plan to go anywhere any time soon.

  Chapter Ten

  Nathan

  I stare at the phone on the nightstand right next to the bed. It’s only been about an hour since I’ve spoken with Rusty, but I’m tempted to call him again. Has he gotten around to finding where Dr. Clint is? The hotel has free wi-fi. If I had my damn phone, I could do some researching for myself, but it’s back at the hospital, probably being looked through like a piece of evidence.

  Until the morning, there isn’t much for me to do. I could go for a walk, but why risk it? That would be my luck – I’d walk right up on someone aware of my situation and my ass would get hauled right back to confinement. Right here is where I’ll stay. I need a hot shower and maybe I’ll order some room service. Junk food sounds great.

  Kicking my legs off the side of the bed, I pull the new shirt over my head and neatly fold it. My jeans are next, and I place the clothing on the desk by the TV. Sliding my boxers down, I turn on the water until it’s steaming hot and climb in the shower, feeling the water soak down to my scalp. Closing my eyes, I enjoy it – it’s the first real moment of peace I’ve had in God knows how long, and if I stand still for too long, I’ll probably go to sleep in the bathtub.

  I lather up the soap provided by the hotel, attempting to lather it up as best as I can. There’s no real scent to it, but at least it does the job, leaving me feeling refreshed once I’m finished. I watch the soapsuds circle the drain, and I don’t move. The water is still warm against my skin, but definitely not as hot as when I started the shower. My fingertips are pruney and still, I don’t move. It’s safe in here. For some reason, I feel like the shower door is my force field, and nothing can come through and bother me.

  Lowering my head, I stare at my feet, and the safe feeling passes. I know I’m not alone. The temperature around me plummets, despite the hot water streaming from the showerhead. I feel the hand on my shoulder. It pushes on me, down through my muscle, and the chill of the room hits me. The steam from the water forms a thick cloud, and I can see Rose through it, standing in the corner, close enough to me that she can touch my shoulder. I’m facing away from her, but I glance over my shoulder, pretending that I don’t see her.

  “I know you can see me, Nathan.”

  I turn and feel the need to hide myself. I’m naked in front of a ghost, a ghost who used to be my wife, who I have been intimate with.

  “Rose…” I’m not sure what else to say to her, but it’s the first time she’s appeared to me as normal, as the way I remember her before she died. There’s no wounds or bruises – her hair is fixed, but it is then I notice that she is naked too. It’s so real and I admire her, though this is all wrong. At that moment I truly realize how much I miss the touch of a woman.

  “Nathan, do you remember those nights when you’d make
love to me in the shower? How we’d spend hours just bathing?”

  I nod and try to back up, but the wall stops me. At this point, the water is losing all its heat, yet I’m still not getting out. I’m still succumbing to the image of my wife, letting my inner desires take over reality.

  “Do you want me right now?”

  Her index finger trails down her chest, between her breasts, and though she appears as Rose, there’s something about the way her eyes look that makes me snap back to real life. She has a cold, vacant stare. This is Rose’s spirit with unfinished business. This isn’t really her.

  I slide open the shower door and grab a towel, wrapping it around my waist as I go into the main area of the room. The temperature is still very cold, and I check the air conditioner under the window. It’s not even on, but when I exhale, I can see my breath. I notice her again, floating toward me, now like the image has been all along – mangled, dirty, and terrifying.

  “What do you need me to do, Rose? I’m telling you right now I will help, but you have to tell me! Please!”

  She gets close enough to touch me again, and this time, her long, skinny fingers wrap around my neck – not tight enough to choke me, but with enough force that if she clamped down any more, I’d be in trouble. I try to stay calm. I try not to let her feel my breathing or my pulse quicken. I try to keep an even expression on my face. If I say one thing wrong, she could easily take my life. Her nails dig into my skin and she looks deep in my eyes.

  “It’s about time, Nathan.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t think this would ever happen again.”

  Her hand tightens just a tad, but then releases, like she is purposely messing with me.

  “Good, because they want to go after Rusty. He was next, had you not agreed to helping. Or if you decide to back out.”

  “No, don’t hurt him. He’s your kid. Rose, please.” I am pleading with her and its nothing short of begging. “What if…” I try to catch my breath. Her hand is now resting on me with no force, but I’m on edge. “What if I can’t help? What if I try and I can’t do what you are wanting?”

  She cocks her head to the side as if I’ve just spoken in a different language. “If you can’t do what we ask or need, you die. Rusty dies. Your whole world will come crashing in on you. Then you’ll get to see how it is on this side. You’ll know what we are all going through.”

  “You said before that it’s not you needing help right now. Who is needing help?” My voice shakes. These ghosts seem even more violent than the ones before. They never threatened to actually kill me, and now my dead wife is saying it right to my face.

  “The answers you need are back at the house. Not our house. The farmhouse.”

  “If I go back out there then I’ll know what to do to help?”

  Rose nods and backs away, completely releasing my neck from her hand. The tips of her shoes slide along the floor, as if she’s on her tiptoes. Her eyes are black and I can’t see where her pupils are.

  “Be smart, Nathan. I’d hate for something to happen to Rusty. I wouldn’t mind you here on the other side with me, but not him. He doesn’t deserve this world…”

  She continues to move backward until I can’t see her again. I’m now alone in the motel room, wearing only a white towel around my waist. The temperature is still bone chilling, so I hurry to get my clothes on, shivering as I fight to unfold them. I slide into bed and pull the covers around me, trying to gain control of my body’s inner thermostat.

  As if there wasn’t enough pressure on me before, now they’re threatening me with death. They’re threatening my son, and I can’t stand for that. At this point, I’m not even sure who the hell I’m going to be helping. There are a few possibilities that I know about – Sammy and little Lenora. Rose has said it’s not for her, at least not yet, but how much can I trust something like this? What if they’re leading me right to slaughter? She said herself that she wants me on the other side with her. What if she’s tricking me? I’ll never truly know if she is until it is too late.

  Kicking the covers off, I feel that the room is getting back to normal. I don’t know if I can wait until tomorrow to start. Maybe my best chance of making a move is now, in the middle of the night. Maybe for once, I can let the darkness work for me instead of scaring me.

  ***

  Rusty

  I hate that I can’t find anything on Dr. Clint Sanderson. My dad is depending on me to get information for him, but nothing is popping up in the search engine. Just the same articles that I’ve skimmed through several times. Sighing, I turn off the monitor and swivel the chair around, facing the living room. Glancing at the clock over the fireplace, I grimace when I see that it’s almost eleven PM. I didn’t realize it was so late, and I’m wide-awake. I don’t think I’ll get much sleep until my dad is safe and things calm down. With school starting soon, I hope we get this all sorted out as quickly as possible.

  Going up the stairs, I check my phone. Britney has texted me a few times, and it’s only a matter of time before she’s let in on my family’s little secret. Tossing the phone on the bed, I lay back and stare up at the ceiling. I need to sleep. I need to have a clear head in the morning for whatever might come up.

  My phone buzzes beside my leg and I grab it, noticing the same number my dad called from earlier.

  “Dad, everything okay?” Sitting up, I rake my hand through my hair, my heart racing. I never know what to expect anymore.

  “Russ, I need you to do me a huge favor. You still talking to that girl?”

  “Britney? Yeah, I am. Why?”

  “This is going to sound crazy, but who gives a shit, right? I’m not sure anything seems too far-fetched anymore. Anyway, I’ve been thinking – If I’m going to sneak back out there, I need to do it at night when it’s dark.”

  “And where does Britney come into this?” I’m skeptical. I want to keep her out of this as much as possible, and the fact that he’s asking about her makes me aware that she’s going to get dragged in farther than I would like. But we are desperate.

  “Have her come pick you up. That way if a cop is watching and he stops you, you can say you’re going out. Or that you just needed to get out of the house. She has a car, right?”

  “Yeah, she does.”

  “You sound hesitant. Russ, if you don’t want to do this, I can figure something else out.”

  “No, it’s not that, Dad.” I sit on the edge of the bed and search for my shoes. “How many people do you want knowing about this? I mean, what do I tell Britney? She’s going to wonder why I’m smuggling my own father back to his own house.”

  “Tell her the truth. If she cares for you, she’ll understand.”

  Shaking my head, I walk to the window and look out at the backyard. The fog is thick and the moon is shining through a blanket of clouds. It’s got an eerie feel like the night of Halloween. It would be a great touch to see a few bats fly by as well.

  “I’m not sure if she’ll understand, even if she cares for me. It’s a lot to take in. But I’ll call her. It’s the only thing I can think of to get you home.”

  “Okay. If you decide not to, I’ll understand. Call me back when you get things in order. The number I called you on should work and then I’ll give you the address. I’ll be here. I’m not planning on going anywhere.”

  “I’ll call you in a bit,” I say, and end the call.

  Pausing for a second, I look down at Britney’s name on my screen. What in the hell am I going to say to her? I think about if the situation was reversed – how would I view her if she asked me to do what I’m about to ask her? I’d probably think she was crazier than a shit house rat and stop answering her calls. But she’s different – she’s got sympathy and she listens. Maybe it won’t take too much convincing.

  My phone dials her number and I let out a deep breath, balling my fist as I wait. She shouldn’t be in bed yet – she’s a night owl like I am.

  “Hey Rusty! I was wondering if you were okay. Haven�
�t heard from you all night.” Her voice is cheery and it makes me smile. I’ve missed her, though it hasn’t been long since I’ve seen her.

  “Can you come pick me up?”

  “Of course. Is everything okay?”

  I scoff and try not to laugh. “Define okay for me.”

  “So you’re not okay?” Her cheery tone fades and she’s definitely concerned about me. It feels good to have someone of the opposite sex care.

  “I’ll explain on the way. There’s some shit happening that I don’t expect you to understand or believe, but I do need to ask one thing of you.”

  “Sure, anything Rusty.”

  “Keep an open mind. Get here as soon as you can. If a cop or anyone stops to ask what you’re doing, just tell them you’re picking me up for a date. I’ll be waiting on the porch.” I hang up the phone before she has a chance to answer. I sound like a damn criminal, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she never comes. I hate to think that about her, but I’m putting a lot on her.

  I sit out on the porch with my backpack. I have a few things packed in case we get stranded for some reason – I guess I’m just a worrier that way. And I’m also thinking about my dad. What if he’s hungry? I’m not sure what kind of access to food he’s had. I check the time on my phone. It’s only been about ten minutes since I called her and she lives about fifteen miles away, so I remind myself to have patience. Rocking back and forth in the chair, I watch the trees swirl around me. Leaves are already starting to fall and there is a small hint of fall in the air. Normally I like this time of year, but right now I can’t enjoy it.

  I swear I see something walk by me on the porch. Turning, I’m alone with nothing but another rocking chair on the other side. Straightening my posture, I look toward the driveway. Since we live so far off the highway, I won’t be able to see if Britney gets stopped by anyone or not. Hell, there might not even be anyone there.

  “Rusty…”