Nightmare

by Robin Parrish

  Derek scrunched up his face in some combination of confusion and disgust. "Are you saying she wanted DHI to make her go all Flatliners?"

  "I don't think she had a death wish," I replied. "But she definitely wanted to find a way to bridge the divide, reach through the veil, and ... well ... visit the spirit realm. There's something she felt like she needed to do there."

  "What? Why?"

  "She doesn't go into detail about her reasons," I said, holding up the closed journal.

  He eyed me significantly. "But she told you herself. Didn't she."

  I was saved by the bell. My phone rang.

  "Ms. Peters?" said the male voice on the other end.

  Uh-oh. I was about to receive more threats, just like the last time DHI's artificially created apparitions had reached out and touched me-when my dorm room had been destroyed.

  "Who's asking?"

  "It's Pierre Ravenwood."

  "Oh! Right, yes."

  "I'm just calling to let you know that I've been taken off of the story. My editor allowed me to pursue it as an indulgence, but her patience ran out when-in a last-ditch effort to save the story-I filled her in on your `ghost manufacturing' theory. I was able to talk her out of firing me, but I've been assigned a different beat. I'm sorry I can't help you anymore."

  My mind spun. "But what about Durham Holdings? Did you ever find anything out about them?"

  "DHI's secrets are buried deep. That headquarters of theirs in Copenhagen is literally some kind of fortress. They're just untouchable. I couldn't even get anyone at their upstate office to return my calls."

  I sighed loud enough that I'm sure he heard it.

  Then my head popped up. "Wait, what `upstate office'?"

  "Durham Holdings has an office building somewhere in upstate New York. It was built prior to the opening of Ghost Town, but apparently it's so small it wasn't worth making a deal about. There were no press releases or announcements about it, of any kind."

  My heart beat faster, new thoughts pummeling my mind and stirring up dust like an old bag of flour. "Do you have an address?"

  "Sure, but I told you, there's nothing to it-"

  "Mr. Ravenwood," I said, "it'll take us some time to get there, but if you can meet me at that address a few hours from now, I promise you'll leave it with the story of your career."

  I stared out of my window, feeling a plan start to come together. It felt good. I couldn't stop the grim smile that formed on my face.

  But when I turned to share the news with Derek, he was staring at me, pale white.

  "What?"

  "Your neck ..." he whispered.

  Something stung a bit at the back of my neck, and I had the sense that it had been stinging for a few hours now, but I hadn't taken the time to stop and really notice it. I didn't need a mirror to see what it was.

  "You're marked," Derek said.

  MARCH 20TH

  I couldn't sleep, so I cursed the name of Jordin Cole as I lay in my bed.

  And not just any curses. I used the good ones-the ones my mother uttered in Spanish when she was really mad. The ones she knew were bad enough to require a visit to confession.

  It was all Jordin's fault, after all. I wouldn't be able to sleep now. If she'd just listened to me, she wouldn't be in any danger while I lay there trying to rest. Instead, she'd completely ignored my advice and left to investigate the church in Mount Hope alone, about an hour ago.

  What was she thinking? I understood obsession; my father had his own unique brand of it when it came to his work. I knew enough about the subject to perceive the difference between obsession and desperation.

  Jordin was desperate. Desperate to contact her parents? I wasn't so sure about that anymore. This went way beyond an addiction to paranormal investigation. She had something much more personal at stake in all this, and only now was I beginning to see just how far she was willing to take it.

  Whether it was her parents or not, apparently she was crazed enough to risk her life for it. But at this abandoned church, it wasn't just her mortal life that would be in danger.

  And if my suspicions were right about her somehow attracting the extreme amounts of activity we'd observed on our investigations ... then I didn't even want to think about what she might attract at a place this bad.

  I angrily muttered something under my breath in Spanish as I threw my covers off and got out of bed.

  Mount Hope Methodist Episcopal was surrounded by a small wooded area on all sides, but rather ominously, the ten or twenty feet of the woods that touched the tiny old church was dead. It was like the ground had been salted and nothing could grow there. Even the sickly brown hue of the dirt looked cursed.

  I rubbed my cold hands together as I carefully walked up to the ancient little building and thought about how much I didn't want to go inside. Jordin or no Jordin, this just wasn't a place a person in their right mind would go. The faded wood siding was rotten. Every window and door had been covered over and sealed tight with plywood. There were no electrical lines running to the building, and there was a sign over the door warning people to stay out.

  I climbed the cement stairs-which looked like they might crack and fall away from the building at any time-and shivered involuntarily as I examined the front door.

  There was a small space in the sealed-up entrance where Jordin had pried open the plywood just enough to crawl through.

  Abandoning all sense of self-preservation, I held my tiny flashlight in my mouth and crawled through the open space on my hands and knees. The ground was filthy and I was none too happy about whatever grime was getting all over me.

  Inside, I stood and looked around the tiny sanctuary. It was a cold night outside, but the interior of the church was like a freezer. The kind of biting cold that cut through your skin down to the bone. Not only that, but I was immediately overcome with a sensation of dread. Every hair on my skin stood at attention, and the air felt thick and heavy.

  What could have happened in the spirit realm to cause a onetime place ofworship to become a haven for something evil? Was this considered a victory by the forces of darkness? A "gaining of ground" in the never-ending war between angels and demons that no human eye could see?

  The place was not much bigger than a modest living room, with only one or two small, ancient-looking pews still standing and not much else. There was no light in the room at all, with the windows boarded up, and the sound of my feet creaking on the old wood floor was enough to creep me out. There was no sign ofJordin, but I spotted another door at the back of the room that was propped open.

  Inside the door I found some wooden stairs leading down.

  She's cracked, I decided. She actually went down into the basement.

  As I studied the stairs for a moment, I heard a voice emanating from the silence below. It was Jordin's voice, but it was barely above a whisper. She sounded like she was talking on her phone. I almost thought I heard her ask a question, but I couldn't make out what it was.

  I descended the stairs as fast as I dared and entered the basement, which had the same basic square footprint as the sanctuary above. I spotted Jordin sitting alone in a far corner with a small flashlight in her hands, and no sign of a phone. Her audio recorder and video camera were on the floor nearby, both with their red recording lights on.

  "Did you miss the signs outside that forbid trespassing?" I said. "You're breaking the law by being here."

  "No I'm not, though technically, you are," Jordin replied. "I bought the property from the city this morning. Those were your footsteps I heard upstairs, weren't they?" she asked, looking disappointed. "Why are you here?"

  "I'm rescuing you!" I shot back, furious. "There's evil in this place. Don't you feel it?"

  "Do I look like I need rescuing?" she said, incredulous. "I'm totally fine."

  I studied her surroundings. The building looked so old that it could fall apart around us at any moment. The corner she sat in had been cleared of the rat feces that peppered the re
st of the floor. The cement was cracked and splattered with red streaks of either paint or blood. The wooden planks that made up the sanctuary decking over our heads were rotted, with the wear of time beginning the process of crumbling.

  "Who were you talking to?" I asked.

  Jordin grinned. "I think it's the spirit of a former parishioner, possibly a deacon or a minister."

  I looked around the room again, my skin crawling. I wanted to be absolutely anywhere else in the world. "You actually heard it speaking to you? The voice was audible?"

  She nodded enthusiastically and grinned again. "I knew coming here was a good idea-I've made direct contact with the other side!"

  "But contact with what?" I said under my breath, though it wasn't really a question. I walked out into the middle of the room, grounding and steeling myself. I wasn't very good at what I was about to attempt-I'd watched my mother do it several timesbut there was no telling what kind of door Jordin had opened here and one of us had to close it. Once I was in the center of the basement, I spoke louder and with as much authority as I could muster. "Whatever is in this place, in the name ofJesus Christ, I order you to reveal yourself."

  I may not have been a very good believer, but I believed nonetheless. Mostly because the command I just uttered always produced results. Nothing in the spirit realm was powerful enough to disobey it.

  The room was silent, but a harsh wind whipped up outside, battering the plywood that covered the old windows in the sanctuary above. A chill brushed across my arms and I was very aware that the basement's temperature had dropped by at least ten degrees in a matter of seconds.

  "Reveal yourself!" I challenged it again.

  "No need to shout," a voice said in my ear. "I'm right here."

  I jumped back, stumbling onto my rear end as my blood turned to ice.

  The voice that replied had spoken in my voice. This thing was using my own voice to answer me.

  In all my years of investigating, I'd never encountered anything like this before. But even a rookie would have to know that hearing your own voice come from something outside of you couldn't possibly be a good thing.

  I glanced back at Jordin. She was watching me with interest, but showed no sign of alarm. I assumed this meant she hadn't heard my voice emanating from the dark room around us.

  "Why are you here?" I asked it.

  "I like it here," it replied in a soothing, playful tone.

  I stood up again and steeled myself. Demon or no demon, I was a professional and this thing would not get the best of me.

  "What do you want?" I asked.

  "Who are you talking to?" Jordin whispered.

  "Shut up!" I whispered back. I was so mad at her, I didn't even want to look at her.

  "Mafia, Maia, Maia..." was the entity's reply, only now it spoke using my mother's voice, and I could hear it smiling. "You already know what I want, mija."

  "I do?"

  The force of a gunshot or a sledgehammer slammed into my chest, knocking me off my feet. I landed hard on my back, and my heart skipped a few beats as I lay there in shock.

  Jordin screamed.

  "Sweet pea," said my father's voice from somewhere close by, "I just want to have fun."

  Jordin screamed a second time as a tremendous crash came from upstairs, as if a part of the roof had caved in.

  "Maia ... ?" she cried out.

  "Sweet pea..." I felt hot breath on my face but saw nothing as the voice of my father spoke again, though this time it was only a whisper. "I'm going to play with you. I'm going to rape you until you're dead. I'm going to burn you. And when I'm done, I'm going to carry your soul to hell in my arms."

  My heart was no longer beating in my chest. Every part of me was frozen in fear as I lay on my back.

  "MAIA!" Jordin shouted.

  I spun my head in her direction. She had backed away from her corner and was pointing at the walls.

  Now I screamed.

  Streaks of dark red blood ran down the basement walls. I swiveled my head all around. The blood streaks weren't covering the walls, they were scattered about, a batch of them here and there. Very, very slowly they oozed down the cement and pooled on the ground beneath. Based on the way Jordin was wiping at her clothes, I guessed that some of it must've gotten on her.

  I wanted to jump up and flee for my life, but it was as if some terrible weight was pressing on my chest. I don't know if it was the creature playing with me or if it was my heart condition rendering me numb, but I was pinned solidly to the ground.

  Jordin sprang from the floor. She was quivering as she grabbed me by the hand and dragged me to my feet with all the strength she could gather. Once I was standing, the sensation upon my chest disappeared, but I was still in pain and felt sick all over, like I was in the worst throes of the flu.

  We both heard a deep, rumbling growl from the perimeter of the room, like a wild predator was about to pounce on us. I knewJordin heard it this time because her already huge eyes grew even bigger as she turned slowly to look at me.

  "Run," I whispered, and she took my hand. Leaning on her for support, I was able to make it to the stairs.

  I took one last weary glance back at the room as I mounted the stairwell. The blood on the basement walls had vanished as if it had never been there. I wondered if it had ever really been on Jordin's clothes or if it had disappeared there, as well.

  When we reached the sanctuary up top, the growling and snarling came again, but it sounded no farther away from us than before.

  I heardJordin gasp right before I looked across the room and saw it for myself. one of the old pews I'd seen on my way in had been flung up against the double doors, barring the building's only exit. It was suspended more than two feet off the ground.

  This had to be the source of the terrible crash we'd heard only minutes ago. Our jaws hung open for just a moment as we took in the terrifying sight.

  Jordin whimpered in fright, but the sound barely registered. My mind was spinning and my heart racing as we stared down the barricade before us.

  "If we don't die, I'm going to kill you," I whispered.

  The wind whipped up again outside and howled against the old church.

  "In the name of Jesus Christ, I command you to let us out of here!" I shouted over the wind.

  The wind only blew harder, and we heard the growling again. It was deep and powerful.

  "You're a Christian. Now might be a good time to start praying for a little help," I remarked to Jordin.

  Not amused, she closed her eyes and began to pray, moving her mouth, though only her breath came out. Still she held my hand tight and squeezed it hard as she prayed.

  Since her eyes were shut, I was the only one to see the hand and arm-type shapes that protruded from the decayed wooden walls, reaching for us. It was like the walls had turned to fabric sheets and people were pressing against them from behind, trying to tear through them to get to us.

  It was the most terrifying thing I'd ever seen, and I thought I might pass out from the horror that gripped me.

  I tried to compartmentalize the fear, looking all around the room for some kind of solution. A boarded-up window we might break through. A loose plank we might rip free and use to pry the pew away from the doors. Something. Anything.

  Jordin was still praying when I smelled it: the scent of burning wood and smoke.

  I looked back toward the basement and could see the flickering light of orange flames reflecting off of the wooden steps. I put aside thoughts of how such a thing could even be possible and decided to focus on finding a way out, while Jordin kept praying. She was at it so hard she was sweating.

  The fire reached the planks beneath our feet and began to burn quickly, unnaturally through them. I Jerked Jordin out of her reverie, and when she saw what was happening, she pulled me toward the double front doors, moving fast. There was little time until the floor burned away beneath us, and when that happened, we would surely fall back down into the basement and be trapped there.<
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  I wondered if anyone would ever even find our ashes in this accursed place.

  We pulled on the pew blocking the doors, but it was held firmly in place by some supernatural force. We couldn't make it budge.

  I spotted a loose plank nearby and saw that one end of it was on fire. An idea forming, I yanked it free and held it up to the bottom of the pew blocking the door. The flame caught right in the middle of the pew and I knelt down to blow on it, trying to coax it to burn through a cross-section of the pew.

  We heard the growling again, this time right in our ears, and it was louder than ever. It was like a massive lion was breathing down our necks, about to take a bite. We both screamed at the sound, and I saw tears were streaming down Jordin's face. It was only then that I realized my cheeks were wet, as well.

  Cinders rained down on our heads as the pew caught fully on fire, and I pointed Jordin to one end of the pew as I moved to the other. The floor beneath our feet crunching and sagging with every step, we heaved on either end of the pew and with a great spewing of fiery ash, it split in half.

  I could hear pieces of the floor crashing behind us as we crawled to Jordin's makeshift opening and pushed ourselves frantically through.

  "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry!!" Jordin screamed and cried as we fled together.

  I put a hand over my chest to try and force my heart not to palpitate, and wiped the moisture away from my face as we ran.

  I heard a throaty, cackling laugh from somewhere deep inside the church as we ran into the night.

  By my best guess, now that the mark had appeared on my neck I had less than eight hours before whatever was going to happen to me happened.

  It was strange how fast the symbol had appeared. Jordin and Carrie reported multiple instances of the nightmarish dream before they ever had the mark on their necks. I had only had the dream once.

  Howell Durham's apparitions that attacked us at the grave must have reported back to him. So he and his pseudoscience cronies had accelerated the process just for me.