by Michael West
“You neglected to mention the fact that everyone on this team has had some kind of supernatural experience,” Kim told him. “Why?”
Burke removed the camcorder, let the case fall to the floor. His tone was different now, quiet, reserved, more like himself. “It honestly never occurred to me. Standard practice, really. Would you have me take a blind man bird watching?”
Kim blinked. “Excuse me?”
The professor powered up the camcorder, removed the lens cap. “I’m searching for proof of another world, Miss Saunders. It only makes sense that I should ask along those who are prone to have encounters with it, those who are more sensitive, wouldn’t you agree?”
Kim gave him a slight nod, her eyes never leaving his face.
Burke flipped open the viewscreen, did a quick sweep of the lobby. “You think me some sort of mad scientist?”
“I think you’re —”
“Nobody thinks that, Professor,” Kevin tried to break in.
“— hiding something. Yes, I do.”
“Miss Saunders, I have no hidden agenda. I want scientific proof of an entity or entities at this location, and I’d love for you to aid me in that.”
Kim took another step forward. “And I’d love for you to tell us what you saw before we walked in here.”
Burke briefly closed his eyes. Perhaps he was replaying the actual events in the private screening room of his mind. Or he might have just been trying to conjure up a proper lie. Either way, when he opened his eyes again, the words that came from his lips gave Joss a wave of chills. “I saw a full-bodied apparition. It spoke to me, then it took a stroll up those stairs and vanished into thin air.”
“Was it intelligent or residual?” Kevin wanted to know.
“Clearly intelligent,” Burke told him. “I’d never observed anything like it.”
Kevin smiled. He’d been just as shocked by Burke’s actions as the rest of them, maybe even more so. Joss knew it, saw it plainly in his eyes. But the pilot light of awe never fully extinguished, and Burke’s story had provided all the kindling needed to ignite it anew, burning away any doubts.
Tashima ran braids through her hands, either ridding them of any remaining bits of spider silk, or taking inventory. There was still a glaze of uncertainty over her dark brown eyes. She looked to Kim as if to gauge her friend’s intent. Stay or flee, it didn’t matter either way, just as long as she would not be alone in the decision.
Kim’s eyes remained on the professor. There was something different about her tonight, in her facial expressions, in her lack of hesitation and the tone of her voice. If she was frightened by any of this, she kept it well hidden.
Joss returned his full attention to Burke.
“So you’ll forgive me if I’m a bit out of sorts,” the professor told them all. “It’s just so bloody frustrating that I had no equipment here to scientifically verify what I was seeing, and there were no other witnesses to even corroborate the experience.”
“Where is Mr. Harvey?” Kim asked.
Burke shrugged. “We haven’t crossed paths as of yet. I assume he arrived just before I did, turned on the lights. He’s likely up in his booth as we speak.”
Kim appeared unconvinced.
Kevin’s voice was full of excited curiosity. “What did the apparition look like, Professor?”
“An older man in a suit,” Burke told him, his eyes swept the entire group before resting on Tashima. “Is that what you saw, my dear?”
Her eyes darted to him. She paused a moment before answering. “I don’t know ... maybe. I just got a quick glimpse. I thought he was wearin’ overalls, like Harvey, but I wasn’t expecting to see another old man here.” She thought for a moment, trying to recall. “It might’ve been a suit.”
The professor nodded. He brandished his camcorder and pointed to the cases Joss and Kevin still carried. “Yes, well, before another encounter with this gentleman catches us off our guard, I suggest we unpack and position our equipment.”
Kevin was the first to move. He unburdened himself, placed the gear on the marble tile, then ran back out the door for more.
Joss glanced over at Tashima, and for a moment, their eyes met. He gave her a smile, feeling warmth in his chest when she returned a grin of her own.
“You gonna be okay?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yeah. It’ll take more than that.”
“Mr. Giler?”
Joss twisted his head around to look at Burke.
The professor had moved across the lobby, gazing up the stairs, his eyes following the path he claimed the specter had taken. “The equipment.”
“Yeah, sure thing.” Joss backed away slowly, made steps for the exit, and when the door opened, he thought it odd that the air actually seemed warmer outside than in.
Kevin was at the rear of the van, trying to haul as much equipment as he could while being mindful of the brace on his hand. He beamed. “Can you believe this?”
“Pretty crazy,” Joss admitted, thinking more of Burke’s behavior than the idea of an apparition. He recalled his earlier urge to get behind the wheel and drive off, and once again, he pushed it aside. Tashima was staying. He would stay as well.
She thinks I’m a selfish jerk, he thought, and as repugnant as her observation had been, he knew there was more than a grain of truth to it. I may not get another chance to prove her wrong.
He grabbed the remaining paraphernalia and closed the van’s cargo doors.
Back inside, Burke examined all of the gear, opening each case. Occasionally, he would come across an item of interest and set it aside, a thermal scanner, a digital voice recorder, a few night vision cameras. And every so often, Joss would catch the professor’s eyes drifting back to the steps, to the darkened hallway at the summit.
Finally, Burke gave them their assignments, “I’ll take the gentlemen upstairs, do a walk through and set up some stationary cameras in the halls and balcony. Miss Ishmael and Miss Saunders, why don’t you begin in the auditorium, take readings. I’d like temperature, EMF —”
“Oh, here.” Joss picked up the K-II, a tiny black box with a raised thumb-control button marring its smooth face. At one end, LED lights arced over a row of numbers, and the label below read “GAUSS (mG).” He handed the meter to Tashima and spoke with a thick Spanish accent, “Say hello to my leetle freend.”
Tashima turned it over in her hands, her brow furrowed. “What’s this?”
“It’s just an EMF meter,” Joss told her. “It measures energy, magnetic fields, just like the other EMF, only it doesn’t have any sound, and you’ve got to hold the thumb button down whenever you take a reading —”
She frowned.
“— but what makes it special is the way it’s been calibrated. They’ve turned it into an electronic Ouija board. After your story at the bar the other night, I thought you might find it interesting.”
“Electric Ouija board,” she repeated.
That got her.
“How’s it work?”
Joss gave her a grin. “It’s pretty easy. I’ve seen them use it on a few of those paranormal television shows, Ghost Hunters, Dead Famous and some others. They’re all the rage right now on Ebay. People think they’re some kind of new invention, but they’ve been around forever.
“Anyway, you just explain the device to the spirits, get them to understand it the same way you tell them about the digital recorders and cameras, then politely ask them to intensify their magnetic fields. With any luck, this meter will light up like the marquee outside.”
Tashima looked uncertain. “I don’t get how they’re supposed to spell stuff out on this.”
“Well ... they can’t. But ...” He pointed to the five LED lights that crowned the meter. “You can ask them ‘yes’ or ‘no’ questions. Two spikes for ‘yes,’ one for ‘no.’”
She smiled at him. “Thanks.”
Burke normally would have added his two cents, informing them of case studies he’d read, empirical data on th
e K-II’s effectiveness in the field, but he’d paid little attention to their conversation. He was still focused on the carpeted staircase, and as he reached down for the hardware, his hand shook a bit. He slung the night vision cameras over his shoulders. “Mr. Heiliger, grab the other thermal meter, won’t you?”
Kevin immediately did as the professor asked.
Joss stood his ground a bit longer, watching as Burke moved to the stairs. If the man knew he was under surveillance, he gave no indication. Before Joss could even pick up his first piece of equipment, the professor and Kevin were already on the landing and mounting the steps.
“Are you coming, Mr. Giler?” Burke called back.
Joss glanced over at Tashima and Kim. If they had walked out at that moment, he would have gladly joined them. Instead, they were the dutiful students. They picked up their gear and moved through the doors into the auditorium.
When Tashima was out of his sight, Joss turned away. He knew she didn’t need him to protect her from anything, and yet, as he turned to follow Kevin and Burke up the grimy stairs, he could not help but feel a cold sense of dread at the prospect of leaving her alone in this place.
30
Tyler Bachman had butterflies in his stomach.
Butterflies.
Such a cute name for such an unpleasant sensation. Adrenaline and epinephrine, pulling blood away from his stomach, sending it to other muscles throughout his body, resulting in that fluttering, tickling feeling deep within his gut; a condition usually triggered by the coming of an event of great importance ... or by impending danger.
Butterflies.
He’d dealt with the feeling all day. His shift at the hospital had seemed unusually long, unusually tedious, and it took everything he had to focus on the tasks at hand. But now, the strange business ahead commanded his full attention. Soon, he would accompany Robby Miller to the old theater, and once there, they would actually perform ancient rites to cast out a demon.
An exorcism.
He shook his head. He’d always found the idea of the supernatural so absurd; now, as he rubbed his bruised chest, the place where unseen hands had punched him and thrown him back against a wall, there was no longer any room for doubt. His world had changed that much in two nights’ time.
Tyler thought of Kim, part of him longing for her to accompany him. No. He had no idea what was going to happen. Better that she work on her class project. Better that she stay someplace safe with her friends.
He found the door marked MEN and stepped inside.
Robby stood at the furthest locker. “If you’ve come to do an ambulance ride along —” He pulled a white T-shirt over his head and down his chest. “— you’re a little late, Doc. My shift’s over.”
“Can we really do this?”
Robby offered him a cock-eyed grin. “Do what?”
Tyler took a moment to look around. They had the locker room to themselves, and for that he was thankful. He’d lied to the fire chief to gain access to the station, said he was working with Robby on a MRSA study, trying to curb the spread of staph infections among trauma patients in the ER; he didn’t feel comfortable continuing the deception. “Can we really get rid of this thing? Send it back to Hell or wherever?”
Robby regarded him evenly. “Yeah, we can.”
Tyler nodded. “Okay, I’m in.”
“Good. You can drive.”
Tyler blinked. “You already have everything we need?”
Robby reached into his locker and pulled out a thick red book. He tossed it across the room.
Tyler caught it, looked at the cover. “The New American Bible.” He chuckled. “As opposed to the old American Bible?”
“I’ve got the script to ‘The Rite or Exorcism.’” Robby pulled a blue folder from the locker, dropped it on the wooden changing bench with a slap, then grabbed a silver flask. “And of course, I’ve got the holy water.”
Tyler took the container from Robby’s hand and examined it, seeing the raised Celtic cross with skulls on the metal surface. He frowned. “You put holy water in a Guns’n’Roses flask?”
Robby shrugged. “Why the hell not? It’s what’s inside that counts, right?”
Tyler turned the flask over in his hand, then looked at the Bible again. He could barely believe he was going to go through with this.
Robby sensed his hesitation. “You sure about this, Doc?”
“How do you know it’ll work? How do you know it won’t just piss it off even more?”
“Look ... Doc, I’ve been studying this shit for twenty years. Trust me. I’m more afraid of what’ll happen if we do nothing.”
Tyler thought of Billy, thought of Martinez and the dancer. He nodded. “Okay. Let’s do it.”
“Hello, gentlemen,” a voice called out from behind him.
Tyler whirled around.
Detective Perry stood in the doorway. He wore a long gray trench coat, dark slacks and a tie. His gun and handcuffs were plainly visible on his belt. He stepped inside the room, looked at them closely. “What are we up to this evening?”
They said nothing.
Perry strolled over to Tyler; saw the flask in his hand. “Is there a party?”
“Hell yeah,” Robby told him. “It’s Friday night. Wanna join us?”
Tyler glanced at Robby, his eyes narrow.
“Thanks, but I’m on duty. I actually went to the hospital to talk to you, Doctor.”
“Is that a fact?” Tyler said softly. In his stomach, the butterflies flew into another frenzy.
“Got to the lot just as you were pulling out.”
“You followed me?”
Perry nodded.
“Why?”
The detective smiled and ran a hand over his crew cut. “Funny thing about strip clubs, gentlemen. They’ve got lots of security cameras. Oh, the managers say it’s because they’re worried about the girls’ safety.” He shook his head. “What they’re really worried about is getting their cut of all the lap dances.”
Tyler and Robby said nothing.
“When that dancer got her throat slit, it was all on tape. The guy coming out of the crowd, the bouncer bringing him down, you two leaping to her aid.” Perry lifted his leg and put his black leather-clad foot on the bench. “You see where this is going?”
Tyler swallowed, trying to drown the butterflies that were going mad in his belly. Oh shit. “You heard her?”
Perry shook his head. “Didn’t have any audio, but I could tell you heard her.”
Tyler nodded.
“Yes, well, funny thing is ...” Perry looked down at his shoe. “... the M.E. told me the same thing you did, Doctor. The dancer’s vocal cords had been cut. It would have been physically impossible for her to have said anything.” His eyes rose to meet their gaze. “But she did, didn’t she.”
“Yeah,” Tyler told him, “she did.”
“What did she tell you?” the detective wanted to know. “What are you holding back?”
Tyler thought it over, then glanced at Robby. “Do you want to tell him, or should I?”
Robby shrugged. “What the hell. I’ll tell him.”
Perry frowned. “Tell me what?”
Robby told him the truth, and when he finished, a long, uncomfortable silence descended on the locker room.
Perry’s eyes fell back to his shoe, the handcuffs that hung from his belt gleaming in the dim overhead light. At last, he glanced up at them again and said, “Looks like I’ll be taking you gentlemen for a little drive.”
Tyler swallowed, imagining the cuffs biting his wrists, imagining his one phone call. A week ago, it would have been his parents on the other end of the line, but now the voice was Kim’s.
“A drive ... where?” Robby asked calmly.
Perry shrugged. “The Woodfield Movie Palace, of course.”
31
Kim meandered down the left aisle of the Woodfield’s large, ruinous auditorium, staring solemnly at its golden statues. Some sat shrouded by gossamer curtains
of spider web, while others stood exposed; tarnished. She then studied the opulent but crumbling molding; the stained, translucent lighting fixtures that collected dead insects like huge, glass pitcher plants. Light bulbs flickered and strobed, casting long, wavy shadows across the walls and floor. She examined every remaining seat. They were all empty, their red fabric muted by a dust of fallen ceiling plaster.
But that was all she could see.
Kim frowned. She was so focused now, her expectant ears awaiting the faint cries only she could hear, her eager eyes searching for pleading faces she knew would be visible to her and her alone, and yet, in every direction, there was simply nothing extraordinary to be found.
She scanned the bald patches of concrete where whole rows of cinema chairs had been removed and stacked along the aisle. The workmen who had started the job had not yet returned. Their tools and thick, crumpled tarps sat off to one side, abandoned. Kim noticed that one of the chair columns had tipped over, the seats fanning out across the floor. Other than that, the room was just as they’d left it a few days before.
“Are you getting anything?” Tashima asked cautiously from behind her.
Kim held a thermal scanner in her hand. She eyed the lighted display. “Seventy-two degrees. Normal room temperature.”
“Not that. I mean ... you know what I mean.” Tashima’s voice grew suddenly quiet, secretive. “Are you getting any weird vibes?”
“Nope. At least, not yet.” Kim turned her head, looking back. “You?”
Tashima ran a hand through the beaded curtain of her hanging braids. “My scalp’s still tingling.”
“You okay?”
“I’m a little spooked, but it’s still kinda cool, y’know?”
“Yeah, I do.” Kim smiled. “You’re not getting cold feet are you?”
Tashima returned a grin of her own. “Not on your life.”
Now they came to the end of the carpet. Straight ahead was the huge movie screen. Kim stared at it, a blank canvass awaiting the touch of an artist’s brush, and found it hard to believe that so many real emotions could be provoked simply by shining images against its curved, taut skin.
Tashima followed her gaze. “Do you see something there?”
