While Toby slept peacefully on the couch where Sheryl would spend her night at Justine's apartment, the three of them stayed up late into the night even though they all had to be up early the following morning. They didn't discuss the situation that was at hand, that seemed to be breathing down their necks. Both women noticed Patrick's unaccustomed quietness. There was a tension about him that Justine wanted to soothe away but didn't know where to start, or even know if she had enough energy left to do it. Chapter Twenty One
Lawrence Washington Elementary had been built in 1917 and was listed on the historical register as School Number Eight. There was some speculation that the school had been built on Seminole Indian Burial Grounds. The building itself was massive with an architecture that even though dilapidated, one could see how beautiful it must have once been. Mother Nature had left her own mark as several, endless vines grew along the sides and roofs of the brick building. Every entrance was boarded, some of the wood appearing as old and rotten as the building it self. The surrounding neighborhood which had been prime real estate back in the early 1900's was now in a state of oppression; filled with large abandoned homes it was a place where vagrants were known to seek shelter.
The school had been an Afro American school in the days of segregation and had been shut down after the Ku Klux Klan invaded it killing most of the students and administration. The feeling of despair instantly settled over team Spectrum as they waited for the Jacksonville's Sheriff's office to remove the boards of the main entrance. Conroy had had to obtain a permit to legally enter the school, and the cop didn't look too pleased with the team or their intentions.
The fact sheet claimed that most of the bodies had been found in the cafeteria and connecting kitchen where apparently the staff and student body had tried to hide during the invasion of the hateful KKK.
After the invasion in 1963 the school had been shut down and boarded up permanently. There was some speculation that the school then became a meeting place for Satanists and was used as a site for dark rituals. Justine had to stop and consider if she believed in the demons that the fact sheet mentioned may still reside within the building after being summoned by the dark cults. She considered it interesting that while she definitely believed in ghosts, she doubted the reality of demons spawned from Hell.
With the door finally unboarded the team moved in silently, their flashlights nervously bouncing off the walls of the dark building. Most of their equipment was still left in the van. Justine's first sense of emotion was a feeling of unsettled sadness, but not something that could be considered haunted or even ghostly. It was the same feeling that most old, run down buildings seemed to carry, as if the bricks, floors and walls had their own forgotten soul.
Conroy paused, staring at each team member in turn.
"Please be aware of your surroundings folks, there is a reason this building is condemned. Watch your footing; do not lean against any of the walls, for that matter, don't touch anything that you absolutely do not have to." He then set down a box he had carried in with him. Forcing out a cheerful smile, he dug out several bright yellow hard hats, one for each team member and himself.
"These are for your protection, wear them, or go wait outside." A silent grumble emitted from the team as they each put on a hard hat, trying not to giggle from feeling absurd.
"Teams of two, one digital, one infrared cam for each team, you guys know what to do, and please be very careful."
While the team started to disperse, Conroy set up bright lanterns in many of the rooms, but didn't have enough to fill each room of all three floors or the basement.
Patrick smiled at Justine, his boyish excitement both amazing and disgusting her, yet she couldn't admonish him for it because she felt the same way.
"Shall we start in the basement, my love?" He whispered softly.
Her green eyes jumped to his in the dark.
"No, let Liz do that." The laugh that started to build in her throat was instantly swallowed back as Liz walked past and Justine wasn't sure whether or not she had heard her.
"You're so bad," Patrick whispered still smiling excitedly.
"Let's stick to the first floor for now Patrick." Her shaky voice instantly sobered up Patrick. Going against her instinct, Justine walked towards the right of the building; somehow taking the left always brought her into the most haunted places.
The once white walls were covered in graffiti of filthy words, images and disgusting prophesies, that had probably been written by teenagers who had dabbled ignorantly into Satanism. Trees both large and small sprouted up through the rotten floor boards along with ferns and native palms, creating an enchantingly ominous atmosphere.
Large, arch shaped door ways lead to the different sections of the first floor. It was obvious that the school had once been beautiful. So many of the walls had reddish stains on them, one had to wonder if it was just simple paint or blood from the many deaths that had taken place in the building. The overwhelming silence of the place was what was the most unsettling to Justine; she was surprised that it didn't echo with every scuffle of her step, every intake of her breath. The silence was unnatural.
Patrick and Justine passed what could have been the location of the administrative offices, both of their compasses calm with no evidence of super natural energy. Feeling a bit more relaxed, Justine was starting to think that the old building was just a dead cell, just an empty, but spooky old building.
Justine stopped in front of a wall where someone had spray painted a cruel, racial statement. Her heart went out to all of the children that had lost their life in this building. Innocent children who had been doing nothing wrong. Children who had been attending school, trying to get an education.
Another large arch opened up into a huge empty room. Justine stole a glance of her compass and was surprised to see it spinning rapidly. She glanced at the map in her hand, and cursed silently before looking up at Patrick.
"Damn it Patrick, this is the cafeteria! How do we always end up in the worst place during an investigation?"
"It is?" Patrick glanced at the map she held in her hand. "Hmm. I don't feel anything, maybe it's all bogus."
Justine nearly hissed at him,
"Look at your compass, Patrick." His eyes grew large as he watched the compass he held attached to his wrist.
"Yup, I guess there is something here."
The two of them instantly started snapping pictures with their cameras. Justine turned to Patrick stopping in front of a simple doorway.
"Do you think that's the kitchen?"
"I can't imagine it would be anything else," Patrick replied.
"Shall we go in?"
"Yeah, I guess we have to."
"Okay." Justine sighed in resignation before she stood up tip toes and leaned up to kiss him. "I love you Patrick."
"I love you too baby."
They walked through the door and glanced down to see their compasses moving even quicker than before. The room was empty of any furniture or the usual implements kept in a kitchen. Justine turned full circle in the room taking pictures of all the different angles when the door slammed shut.
Quickly Patrick reached to open up the door. Although the door contained no lock, it would not open, it would not even budge.
The flashlight in Justine's hand died right before the one in Patrick's did. She reached for him and he quickly pulled her close.
"Open the door Patrick, I'm scared."
"I can't! The damn thing won't open." The terror reflecting in Patrick's voice set Justine's own heart to pound violently.
Blindly she reached for the door and found that Patrick was right, it wouldn't even budge. She leaned into Patrick, her mind racing as fast as her heart.
"Shit, what do we do?"
"We just wait for a minute baby, its okay." With a shaky hand he stroked her forehead and kissed the top of her head.
The unnatural silence now accompanied with a depth of darkness that could only be described as pitch black
frightened Justine more than an actual ghostly confrontation. Her nerves stretched tight as she tried to wait calmly for something to happen, but she realized that she was quickly loosing her calm and very close to panicking.
Needing something to do, to take some sort of action Justine reached for the door knob again, but quickly jerked her hand back feeling a scalding burn covering up her palm. Patrick jumped at her yelp.
"What's wrong baby?"
"The door knob is hot; I burned my hand on it."
"How bad?"
"I don't know, but it feels pretty bad."
Patrick roughly beat the dead flashlight against his upper thigh wishing fervently for it to come on, spreading its sane light. The flashlight, like the door stubbornly refused.
"The cameras, Justine. If we shoot a couple of pictures the flash might show us another exit out of here."
Instantly invigorated by the brilliant idea, both of them raised their cameras only to find that like the flash lights, the cameras were no longer working as well.
"Oh my god, oh my god! This is nuts!" Justine's panic was contagious and trying viciously to wrap Patrick up into it as well.
"Hey," he placed his hands on her shoulders. "Its okay baby, we just have to think our way out of this." Before he could move or speak another word, Justine began pounding on the door. The sound seemed enormous, bouncing off the walls around the room. Justine's fists quickly became bruised as Patrick joined her.
"Help, help us! Someone! We're locked in the kitchen! Help!" To her own ears Justine's voice sounded shrill and hysterical. Patrick began kicking the door as well as pounding on it.
After a few minutes the two of them stopped banging on the door. In exhausted defeat Patrick slid to the floor pulling Justine down with him to settle on his lap. Their own silence soon became as unnerving as the silence of the room.
When Patrick spoke, his voice sounded lost and unnatural in the darkness.
"I could really go for a cigarette right about now." Justine didn't respond, her eyes closed to the darkness as she leaned into Patrick for comfort.
"Wait!" The sudden excitement in Patrick's voice picked up the pace of Justine's heart even further. "I have my lighter with me. Shit I'm so stupid sometimes."
The sudden light was beautiful beyond words. The light was a small justice in the large room, but it was brilliant to the two of them.
"Oh thank god," Justine sighed in relief while Patrick carefully helped her to her feet.
"Okay. This is a kitchen. Due to fire regulations, they must have another exit door somewhere."
"Good thinking."
"Stay close Justine, if we walk slowly and feel along the walls we should find something."
"Okay, okay." Her words came out in breathy gasps inspired by both fear and renewed excitement. Attached at the waist with Patrick's secure arm, they took tiny baby steps and felt along the rough walls. Following a humanistic instinct they walked towards the farthest wall back nearly groping along the walls, the desperation in both of them once again rising.
Although the walls were rough and rotten beneath their hands, after several minutes they still had not found a door way.
"Patrick, did they have fire codes back in 1917?"
"I don't know, probably not." The defeat in his voice broke Justine's heart.
"If they had an exit during the invasion, wouldn't they have left the building?"
The answer settled into their stomachs
ominously, with the knowledge that this must be very similar to what the student body and staff must have felt during the ruthless slaughter that had taken place in the school.
Several more moments passed as the two of them stood in place, and waited staring hypnotically into the small flame provided by the lighter.
"This building is about five thousand, twenty five square feet, right? How long could it take our team members to do the initial exploration before realizing that we're missing?"
"Oh god Justine, you know how it is. When we're deeply investigating, even though it seems that time is hardly moving, it moves very rapidly." Patrick kissed her forehead before answering.
"Patrick?"
"Yes?"
"You're a Witch, do something, summon some help." If the situation hadn't been so dreadfully frightening Patrick would have laughed.
"Justine it doesn't work that way, but I guess we could try."
Disregarding her own suggestion, Justine asked,
"Hey? Do you have your cell phone?" Her voice reflected loudly around the room.
"No, Conroy doesn't allow us to have them on the hunt, they interfere with energy waves. You know that."
"Damn. He needs to give us walkie talks then, this is outrageous." It surprised Justine to realize how much better anger felt than fear. "We should get hazardous pay."
Patrick chuckled,
"Well how many people do you know that get to wear jeans to work and make fifty thousand a year?"
"Donald Trump," she replied in a definitive voice.
"Ha! He makes much more than that and he wears suits. Have you ever seen him in jeans?"
"No, but I'm sure no one would tell him what to wear at the job site."
The laughter that would have normally rung out between them was left silent and subdued.
"What time is it?"
Patrick flicked on the lighter and held it up to his wrist.
"Almost 12:30, why?"
"Lunch break, they should notice that we're gone soon. Don't you think?"
"I hope so baby."
"Me too."
For what seemed like an hour, they sat their together in the dark in the complete silence, tightly holding onto one another as their only comfort.
Her frustration reaching a boiling point, Justine, stretched and carefully stepped forward. Patrick flicked the lighter back on and followed closely behind her. Justine stood in front of the door where they had originally started at and began to pound it and kick it again.
"Help! This door is locked! Help us!" Her screams ricocheted around the room vibrating it into life.
Like magick, the door slowly opened under Justine's pounding fists. Liz stood their smiling smugly, her flashlight shining straight into Justine's eyes, instantly blinding her.
"Get lost, did you?" She chuckled smartly before walking away.
Dizzily, Justine and Patrick left the room. Justine's pace was quick powered with anger and purpose. Patrick followed her, unsure of her intentions. She nearly stomped back into the main room and strolled right up to Conroy who turned to see the red anger brightening her face.
"Justine, what's wrong?" The look in his eyes seesawed between concern and confusion.
"We need walkie talkies, Conroy! Patrick and I were stuck in the kitchen for I don't know how long!" Patrick stood quietly behind Justine watching her spit out her rage in the face of Conroy.
Seeing that it was safer to be comforting, Conroy glanced at his watch,
"Let's call it a wrap for today. This place bugs me out."
"Wait? That means we have to come back tomorrow?" Justine nearly growled out the words.
"Justine this project will take us at least three days." His voice was so level and down to earth Justine considered smashing his face with her bruised fists.
"Walkie talkies Conroy, I mean it!"
Chapter Twenty Two
"I want to go to the sheriffs' office and have you file a restraining order on Devin." Patrick's voice bared no flexibility. Justine gnawed on her bottom lip for a moment indecisively.
"I don't know his last name," she finally replied.
"Well I am sure Sheryl does. Why don't you call her and ask her."
Justine dialed Sheryl's home phone number on her cell and waited until after the sixth ring Sheryl's answering machine picked up.
"She's not answering, I call her again tonight when I get home from seeing mom."
Patrick offered to go with Justine to see her mother, but she felt that it was something that she
should do alone. Besides, she wanted her mother's first meeting with Patrick to be on more amicable terms. Patrick understood Justine's need to visit her mother alone; however he insisted on driving her back home and stick around while she showered.
Justine entered a large activity center type of room which someone had half heartedly attempted to make look cozy and homey, but it still retained a stringent institution atmosphere. Alice sat on a large couch that was covered in a bright floral slip cover, which most likely hid many old stains. Alice stared at Justine out of eyes that would have been blank if not for the deep hatred lingering in them. Justine stopped short looking at her mother, simply stopped. Feeling as if she were in enemy territory and completely unwelcome. As a daughter, her first instinct was to hug her mother; however she was lucky she was able to mumble,
"Hi Mom, how are you feeling."
Alice simply stared at Justine, her eyes
continuing to glaze over with hate. Justine walked around the room nervously, attempting to seem relaxed and composed.
She stopped and stood directly in front of Alice,
"Mom, are you going to talk to me?"
Mother and daughter stared at one another, the silence between them thick and impenetratable. Alice lowered her eyes and opened her mouth as if to speak, then stood up and slowly walked out of the room leaving Justine to stand there and gasp.
Justine was tired and angry on the drive home, not for the first time she wished that the Chevy Malibu was a stick shift so that she could as least feel the engines power controlled by her hand. She pulled up into her parking spot and was surprised that Patrick's car was still gone. Oh well, she thought to herself, he needs his own time, too.
Once Justine was inside the apartment she started to turn on some soothing old classics but decided instead to pull out her violin and express her ill feelings through the flowing music. She was surprised to realize how much she had missed playing. Even if she hadn't chosen it as her career, it was still something she could always turn to that worked to soothe her mind, calm her nerves. Playing the violin again was like visiting with an old friend. Both wistfully and reluctantly she kissed the shiny body of the violin once and placed it back in its case promising herself that she would play more often.
Journey of Souls (The Mortality Series) Page 18
