Berkley Street Series Books 1 - 9: Haunted House and Ghost Stories Collection

by Ron Ripley

  Brett glanced at Doc and saw the man’s attention was fixed on the visitor.

  “Hello,” Brett said, standing up. “What’s the word?”

  “The word is you’re still going to have to be in here for a while,” the stranger said apologetically.

  “Damn,” Doc muttered.

  “We wanted to tell you,” the visitor continued, “that you need to stop.”

  “What?” Brett asked.

  “You need to stop,” the visitor repeated.

  “Stop what?” Brett said.

  “Interfering with the Nurse,” the stranger said. Brett heard anger, low and hard, within the person’s voice. “She’s doing what she must. Doing what is right. You do not interfere with her, do you understand?”

  “Hey–” Doc started, but Brett cut him off.

  “Hold on,” Brett said, stepping closer to the thin plastic separating them from the visitor. “Who are you? What ward do you work on?”

  “None of those answers are necessary, Brett,” the stranger said. “You will do well to remember, however, that there are those of us who support the Nurse and her work. And we will ensure she continues to do so without interruption from the likes of you.”

  “She’s murdering people,” Brett hissed. “Killing them!”

  “She stops those who would stop her,” the stranger said calmly. “And she ushers others to the next world. She is as a nurse should be, do you not agree, Brett?”

  “No,” Brett snapped. “I don’t. She shouldn’t be killing anyone.”

  “Regardless of how you feel about the Nurse,” the visitor said, “you will no longer attempt to interfere with her. This is the last warning you shall receive.”

  Without another word, the stranger turned around and passed out of the room.

  Brett shook his head, hardly able to understand what had happened. He went back to his bed and looked at Doc. The young man sat and stared at the door. Finally, Doc looked at Brett. “What the hell was that about?”

  “I don’t know,” Brett said in disgust. “But I know it won’t stop me. She can’t kill anyone else.”

  Doc nodded, picked up the remote and turned the television on. Quickly, he flipped through the channels, stopping on New England Cable News. Then, without looking at Brett, Doc sighed and said, “Don’t worry, Brett. We’ll be out of here soon.”

  “I hope so,” Brett said and glanced back at the door.

  Chapter 30: Getting Reacquainted

  Dom Francis locked the door to his blue Camry. He heard a noise and turned around.

  A bloody young man, with his arms outstretched, charged a bald man. The bald man stepped forward and punched the attacker in the face and he vanished.

  Francis stood completely still and stared at the man who remained. He watched as the man exhaled a cloud of smoke into the evening sky.

  “Shane!” Francis called, recognizing the bald man.

  Shane twisted around and smiled wearily. He raised a hand, waved hello and began to walk to Francis. Francis met him halfway and paused as he was about to speak. Shane wore what looked like brassknuckles on his right hand.

  “I’m surprised to see you up here, Dom Francis,” Shane said, offering his iron-clad hand.

  Francis shook it. “I came up to expand my ministry. Why are you here?”

  “Treatment,” Shane replied. “Except the doctor who was supposed to work on me is dead.”

  Francis looked at Shane and hesitated briefly before he said, “Do you know why?”

  Shane nodded.

  “Does it have something to do with a nurse?” Francis asked softly.

  Shane’s eyes widened. “Yeah. As a matter of fact it does. How do you know?”

  Francis quickly told the other man about his meeting with Matias, and of how the Nurse had come in.

  “Yeah,” Shane said, nodding. “Doesn’t seem like she’s particularly fond of people interfering. And the guy you just saw, well, he wasn’t too keen on the idea either. There are a few others in here who want to get the Nurse to move on, though. Have you done this before?”

  Francis shook his head.

  “What did you bring?” Shane said.

  “Only my faith. I could think of nothing else,” Francis said. He nodded to the pack Shane carried. “What have you brought?”

  “Hopefully enough to do the job,” Shane said. He put his backpack on the hood of the nearest car and opened it.

  Francis peered in and whistled appreciatively at the double-barrel, sawed off shotgun. Shane had also removed the butt of the weapon, so it fit neatly in the pack.

  “It’s loaded with salt,” Shane explained. “I figured it was such close quarters I wouldn’t need accuracy as much as radius.”

  “I agree,” Francis said. “These are all for dealing with a ghost?”

  “Yeah,” Shane said. He zipped up the pack and slung it over one shoulder again. “I had been hoping it would be only one ghost, but the way it’s looking right now, I don’t think that’s going to be the case.”

  “You’re probably right,” Francis said. He looked at Shane and asked, “Are you planning on doing anything tonight?”

  Shane shook his head. “When I was here last time, the Nurse came to me in my dreams, and she was going to finish me off that way. I’m worried she’ll try to do the same with Brett and Doc if she figures out what we’re planning on doing to her.”

  “How are you going to stop her?” Francis asked.

  “I had been hoping, originally, to get a hold of her and beat her to death,” Shane said without any hint of sarcasm in his voice. “But if there’s one ghost who likes her, then there has to be more. If that’s the case, I don’t think I’d be able to do it. I wouldn’t be strong enough.”

  “So, what are you going to do?”

  “The next best thing,” Shane said, finishing his cigarette. “I’m going to find where she’s buried. I’ll dig her up, salt her down, douse her with lighter fluid, and then light her up.”

  “And that will get rid of her?” Francis asked, incredulity thick in his voice.

  “Yup,” Shane said. “It always does the trick.”

  “You’ve dealt with ghosts before?”

  “More times than I would like,” Shane said, his voice taking on a hard edge. “It would probably be best for us to go inside now. I don’t want to be out here any longer than I have to.”

  “Why?” Francis asked. “You think they’ll be back?”

  “Yeah,” Shane said. “Depends on how far away their bodies are. Or parts of them. Or if they’re attached to some item. Lots of variables.”

  Francis frowned. “You know what, come in with me, you can meet my friend Matias. If anyone knows about the Nurse, I’m sure he will.”

  “Fair enough,” Shane said.

  The two men left the parking lot, heading for the front of the building.

  “How are you feeling?” Francis asked after a minute of silence.

  “Me? I’m fine.”

  “And your arm?” Francis said.

  “Hurts,” Shane said. “But I was told by my previous doctor that a little bit of pain was a good thing. It means that the tissues are healing. All I really need is that damn skin graft.”

  “Think you’ll get it soon?” Francis asked.

  Shane shook his head.

  “Why not?”

  “Because,” Shane said, “I get the distinct impression that I’m not winning any popularity contests here.”

  “Not a shock, Shane,” Francis said, shaking his head.

  “No,” Shane agreed. “Usually isn’t.”

  The two men walked into the building.

  Chapter 31: Running into Nurse Platte

  Meg Ward was one of the few female patients in Sanford Hospital, which meant she had a room all to herself.

  And she hated it.

  At sixty-eight, Meg liked company, and she didn’t get nearly enough of it as far as she was concerned.

  And, she thought, frowning, th
ey keep closing my door.

  I should probably open it, she thought, contemplating the task. Then she shook her head. Nope. Too much effort.

  Meg picked up the remote control, turned the television on and flipped through the channels. There was nothing but news on. She had napped through all of her game shows.

  Well, she sighed. This is turning into a wasted night.

  Meg turned off the television and then picked up her crossword puzzle book and pen.

  Halfway through number thirteen down, she realized she was cold. Meg paused, pulled her blanket up around her swollen legs.

  Stupid diabetes, she thought angrily. My legs used to be stunning.

  With the blanket tucked in, Meg went back to her crossword.

  Soon she was shivering.

  The room’s cold, she realized. Her breath puffed out. What the hell is going on here?

  A shape stepped out of the shadow by the door and Meg stiffened.

  Oh Mary, Mother of God, she prayed, Pray for me.

  The Nurse moved closer into the room. Her face was hard, unforgiving. Whatever beauty and compassion had been there in life had been stripped away by death.

  The crossword puzzle book fell from Meg’s hands as she watched the Nurse approached the bed. Meg closed her eyes and screamed as cold fingers wrapped around her neck.

  Don’t fight it, she told herself. Don’t. It’ll be done soon.

  Yet as the dead woman began to squeeze the life from her, Meg fought. She writhed and twisted on the bed. The Nurse kept her pinned down, in spite of Meg’s efforts. Her breath was stolen from her and pain exploded in her head.

  “No,” the Nurse said in a low voice. “Not yet.”

  Then the hands were gone and Meg fell out of bed. She crashed to the floor and screamed hoarsely. Meg rolled onto her back, gasping for air. The door to the room was thrown open and Zoe, the second shift nurse, rushed in.

  The younger woman knelt down beside her, asking, “Meg? Are you okay?”

  Meg nodded. Zoe helped her sit up.

  “What happened?” Zoe asked. “Did you fall out of bed?”

  “The Nurse,” Meg croaked.

  Zoe smiled, a strange glimmer flickered in her eyes. “Really?”

  Meg looked at Zoe in surprise.

  “What was she like?” Zoe asked. Her tone was ecstatic. “You’re so lucky, Meg! I wish I could meet her!”

  Meg glared at the young woman and snapped, “Good. Maybe next time she’ll try and kill you.”

  Zoe patted her hand. “Oh, it’s alright, Meg. You’re fine.”

  The nurse stood up and smiled down at Meg. “You really don’t know how blessed you are for her to take an interest in you.”

  Horrified, Meg watched as Zoe left the room, whistling.

  Meg turned away from the door, got onto her knees, and for the first time since she had been a little girl, she said her prayers before getting into bed.

  Chapter 32: Matias and Francis have a Chat

  “You’ve returned,” Matias said, smiling at the young monk.

  “I said I would,” Francis said, sitting down with a thump.

  Matias nodded. “I didn’t doubt you would, Dom Francis. I am merely surprised to see you this soon.”

  Francis chuckled. He said, “You have a new door, I noticed.”

  “Yes,” Matias said soberly. “There was a rather bad death.”

  “Here?” Francis asked, surprised. “In your room?”

  “Yes,” Matias said. “Here, in my room. The Nurse beat a young aide to death.”

  “I’m sorry,” Francis said softly. He looked at the door and bent his head, offered a short prayer for the unknown woman, and then crossed himself before he returned his attention to Matias.

  The old man looked far worse than he had previously.

  In a careful tone, Francis asked, “Matias, why did the Nurse kill the woman in your room?”

  “She was here for me, to tell me to make my peace with God, essentially,” Matias answered. “The young aide attempted to stop her.”

  Francis nodded. “Are you alright?”

  “Yes,” Matias said, smiling sadly. “Unfortunately, I am. I am not terribly burdened by remorse or anything of the sort, Dom Francis.”

  “I didn’t think you were,” Francis replied honestly. “But I wanted to be certain.”

  “I do appreciate it,” Matias said. “I must ask, have you thought of a way to stop the Nurse?”

  “No,” Francis said, frowning. “All I can think of is my faith, but I believe it would be more for my own protection rather than stopping her.”

  “I would have to agree,” Matias said.

  “I did meet someone in the parking lot who I believe does have the knowledge to stop her. His name is Shane and he has experience in this area. He had to stop off at an office so he’ll be joining us shortly,” Francis said. Suddenly, he felt uncomfortable, as though someone was listening to them. He waited a moment, but heard nothing more.

  “You believe this man, Shane, can help us?” Matias asked, leaning forward.

  Francis nodded. “I do. I truly do.”

  “And these men, the ones on E Ward,” Matias said, “you believe they can help us, too?”

  “I know Shane believes it,” Francis said. “And I believe Shane.”

  “Fair enough,” Matias said.

  Francis hesitated, then asked, “Do you know much about the Nurse?”

  “I know a bit,” Matias said. “I don’t know if it would be much.”

  “Anything’s better than nothing at this point,” Francis said.

  The old man nodded. “Yes. I suppose you’re right. From what I have heard she was a nurse here at the end of the First World War.”

  “Sanford is that old?” Francis asked, surprised.

  “Yes,” Matias replied. “Older, even. I have heard it was built a short time after the end of the Civil War.”

  “Considering the architecture, it would make sense.”

  “It would,” Matias agreed. “In any case, she was a nurse here. Sanford’s primary purpose was to care for those who were damaged by war. Those men who had lost their minds either from wounds or from what they had witnessed.”

  Matias adjusted himself on the bed before he continued.

  “There were stories of men dying, the severely wounded, those who were madder than the rest. Some merely died, others,” Matias said, shaking his head, “she helped on their way.”

  “For how long?” Francis asked.

  “Not terribly long,” Matias clarified. “Shortly after the end of the war, there was a great flu epidemic. A pandemic ripping through the globe. New Hampshire was not spared. Nor were the men in Sanford.”

  “Did she die of the flu?” Francis asked, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice.

  “Oh no,” Matias said softly. “She was killed, so the story goes.”

  “Accidentally?”

  Matias shook his head. “No. The story is that there was some sort of incident involving a patient. The patient was violent and attacked the nurse. Evidently, the orderlies were so distraught they beat the man to death.”

  A knock on the door interrupted them. Without waiting for Matias to respond, the person on the other side pushed in.

  “Nurse Platte,” Matias said, surprised. “Whatever are you doing here?”

  “An issue arose on E Ward, Matias. I had to stay late. I wanted to check on you before I left,” she said, and Francis heard genuine concern in her voice.

  “Thank you, Nancy,” Matias said. “I am quite well.”

  “This gentleman here isn’t tiring you out, is he?” she asked, looking pointedly at Francis.

  Matias shook his head. “Not by any means. I don’t sleep much lately, as you well know. And I could do with a little tiring out.”

  “Alright then,” the woman said. “I still have to be in for my regular shift, so I’m heading home.”

  “Drive safely,” Matias said.

  “I al
ways do,” she responded. She waved at Matias and left the room.

  “She doesn’t like me,” Francis said.

  “You’re in good company, Dom Francis,” Matias said, reclining in his bed. “She dislikes only the finest of men.”

  Francis chuckled and looked at the playing cards on the tray.

  “So,” Francis said, “you play anything other than solitaire?”

  A devilish gleam entered Matias’s eyes, and he said, “I play everything. Is there a game you have in mind?”

  “Poker,” Francis said, picking up the deck and shuffling the cards. “Is there any other game?”

  Chapter 33: Waiting for Them

  He stood at the far end of ‘A’ Ward, tucked away in a shadow and his attention fixed completely on the old man’s door.

  He had been at his post for nearly an hour and hadn’t seen a single person enter or exit Matias’ room.

  He has a guest, you know this, the watcher told himself. Do not become lax.

  Even as these words echoed in his thoughts, the main doors to A Ward opened, and three men stepped out into the hallway. The watcher recognized two of them. One was a new hire who worked on E Ward. The other was Doc Kiernan, who had been at Sanford long enough to understand the Nurse; who the third man was, the watcher didn’t know, and he didn’t care.

  He merely made a mental note. His keen eyes saw the backpack on the man’s shoulder. The man’s bearing, the way he moved, all of it spoke of a man who knew the business end of a weapon.

  Weapons, most likely supplies, the watcher thought. A large caliber weapon with the way the bag hangs. Possibly a cut-down shotgun. He’s the one to watch. The scars on his face. Combat veteran. Definitely a threat here.

  The one she needs protection from.

  The watcher slipped his phone out of his back pocket, keyed in a number and sent a text.

  Three new arrivals. New hire from E, Doc from E. Third unknown. Bald and armed. Looks like he knows his business.

  Within a moment, the watcher’s phone vibrated, the signal of a new text. He paused, watched the three men enter Matias’ room, and then looked at the response.