CHAPTER FIVE
I was on a bluff, overlooking the sea. I didn’t know how I was there, but I was. The grass was cool beneath my feet, the wind sweeping off the blackened ocean was rich with salt and chilled.
I’d been here before. Was I dreaming?
I looked down at my body and saw I was barefoot and in a simple, plain nightgown. The déjà vu was back in full force all over again, transporting me back to September. But instead of being beside a lighthouse, there was nothing there except the burnt remains and a few pieces of foundation.
I had to be dreaming. I never owned a nightgown like that, and the only time I ever did was when I was caught in a nightmare. I half expected the shriveled face of Old Roddy to appear, to remind me that what happened here, what started it all, was only eight months ago.
But he never came. He never popped up. As far as I could tell, I was alone. It was just me and that dark, wide expanse of the Pacific, beckoning me like a gaping mouth.
I stared at the ocean, those obsidian waves that crashed at the shore below, wondering if this was all there was to it. Then, after some time, I knew it was all beginning.
A child’s giggle came from behind me and the punchy sound of a rubber ball being kicked. I turned around to see nothing but the lighthouse remains and the dewy grass that stretched back into the forest of thick trees. There was no child, there was no ball. But that didn’t mean anything.
Suddenly I heard quick footsteps behind me and the feeling of someone running past, brushing against my legs. Right before my eyes I saw a child form from thin air—a young girl—who ran after a ball. She squealed as she went, her attention devoted to getting the ball and nothing else.
At least it seemed that way until she reached it and kicked it off into the forest. The girl stopped, and in her brief stillness I could make out her fine features, her long dark hair and neatly tied bow at the back, her plain dress and shiny shoes. She was no doubt a ghost—her complexion was more than pale and there was a slight transparency about her, but I still couldn’t tell if I was really seeing her or if it was all in my head. My dreams had always been prophetic, but since the one that Pippa appeared in the other day, it was hard to tell if they were real or not.
No wonder my parents were so concerned about me losing my mind. It never really ended, did it?
The ghost dream girl cocked her head at me and I could see her eyes were nothing but black marbles, the soulless ones that ripped into you. “Can you go after my ball?” she asked, her accent untraceable but her words properly enunciated.
I swallowed thickly and shook my head. I’d been in that forest before, in real life, and it was terrifying as hell. F*ck that noise.
“But I need my ball,” the girl said, her tone becoming harder. I noticed her little hands tightening into fists as the rest of her became more solid and less see-through. >
“I’m sorry,” I said meekly, my voice echoing. “I don’t want to go in there.”
The girl glared at me and flipped her hair over her shoulder before she started marching over. “You will go in there and get my ball.”
She stopped a few yards away, and it was only then that I noticed a large spot of blood forming on one side of her chest, spreading slowly like a blooming rose. “You’re not really here, are you? Not yet?”
I frowned, not sure what to say to that.
The girl took a neat step forward, her hands clasped at her middle. “Or are you? Are you here to play with us?”
Without warning, a large gust of wind blasted at my back, whipping my hair into my face. When I finally brushed it out of my eyes, I saw Pippa standing between me and the young girl. Just like in my dream before she was looking tired and pale, her thin body hidden by a coat. Her attention was entirely on the girl.
“You get away from here,” Pippa said to her. “You leave her alone. She is not yours.”
“But she can see me,” the girl said matter-of-factly, a devious twinkle in those cold black eyes.
“Go,” Pippa said, her voice louder and almost animalistic. The young girl stuck out her tongue but trotted after the ball, disappearing into thin air right before the trees. Pippa faced me with a weary expression.
“They keep finding you, don’t they?”
“I don’t get it,” I said. “Am I dreaming again? Is this real?”
“You are dreaming but it is real,” she said. “This is the safest way I can get to you. The Thin Veil is too risky.”
I gestured wildly to the forest. “Then who the hell was that little girl?”
She gave me a slight smile. “I am not the only one who can get to you this way. You know this. Your dreams have always been very powerful, Perry, always. You’ve seen and experienced things that eventually happened to you. Every day you’re alive and embracing who you are, you’re opening yourself more and more.”
“So what about what you said before…about having to watch out?”
“I don’t think you should be here, Perry.”
“Dreaming?”
“Doing the show. Not right now. It’s just a feeling I have…”
“I can’t keep going on your feelings. I have a life to live too, a living to make.”
She reached out and grabbed my hand. Hers felt so delicate, thin and cold. “I know. But you’re not in a good place right now. You’re the strongest when you are strong and right now you are weak. You’re succumbing to worry and insecurity.”
“That’s me, like ninety-nine percent of the time.”
“Darling, please. I wish I could offer you more than just a feeling but you have to take it to heart. Go home. Go back to Seattle. Go be with Dex and concentrate on your life there.”
“But the show is my life, at least for now. It’s just a few days of filming, we’ve done this a million times before. When this is done, we will go back to Seattle. After we stop by my parents first. I’ve apparently got a lot of explaining to do.”
Her eyes widened with intensity, her mouth becoming tight. “No. No, don’t do that.”
My heart started thudding around in my chest at her sudden change in tone. She was starting to freak me the f*ck out. “No? What do you mean, no? It’s my mom. Your daughter. I haven’t seen her or my dad or Ada for months.”
She shook her head. “No. I don’t know why but I don’t think that’s a good idea. It’s...too much. It’s too easy. Everyone in the same place, all the eggs in one basket.”
Now she was starting to sound like Creepy Clown Lady. “You’re not making any sense.”
“I know I’m not making sense. But it’s wrong. It’s wrong. It’s bad.”
“And the show, filming here, that’s not the problem anymore?”
She shook her head still, her thin curls flinging around. She started wringing her hands together. “No. It’s all wrong. You need to go back home.”
“Just tell me why!” I exclaimed, almost stamping my feet.
“I don’t know!” she yelled back. Her eyes dropped to the ground.
A light ticked on in my head. “Are you afraid of my mom and I making up?”
She didn’t say anything for a long time, just staring at the grass beneath us. Another breeze blew past, my nightgown billowing around me.
“Are you afraid that if my mom and I make amends, that you’ll lose an ally in me? That I’ll turn against you?” I asked, studying her face. I took a step forward. “You know I’ll never forget what my mother did to you.”
I tried to reach out and touch her but she yanked herself out of my reach and stared up at me with frightened eyes. “Don’t go. It’s too much in one place.”
She still didn’t make sense but it didn’t matter. She was worried that my mom and I might make up. She probably feared that I would shun her or that my mom would do the same to me as she did to her. It explained why she looked so frightened.
“Pippa,” I said slowly, hoping to convince her not to worry. I knew what was best for myself. But my grandmother was already fading before my eyes.
“Too much, too easy,” she said, her voice croaking and then lowering itself until it was just a shadow of what it was. “Too much. Too easy.”
And then she was gone.
***
I woke up to Dex’s warm hand sliding up underneath my shirt, teasing at the soft area underneath my breast. I smiled and relaxed into it, momentarily forgetting about everything that happened. I pushed the thoughts of Uncle Al, of his warnings, of my dream, all the way to the back of my head. They wanted me to think about them, to weigh down my heart with worry, but I wouldn’t give in.
I’d only give in to the naked man beside me.
“Good morning, sunshine,” he whispered into my neck, his lips gently trailing down to my collarbone.
I lazily reached up and ran my hand through his thick hair. “Morning, baby.” I glanced around us for a clock, seeing only framed horror movie posters. The twins must have decorated the room. “What time is it?”
“No idea,” he said, and from the way his teeth grazed the outside of my ear, I could tell it didn’t matter. “I think everyone else is up. But then again, so am I.” He took my hand in his and placed it under the sheets, right on his cock. No surprise, it was hard as stone and felt hot beneath my touch. He groaned in response, the sweetest sound to my ears.
I gave him a sly look, putting pressure on my hand, my fingers gripping him. Still, I told him quietly, “I don’t think this is a good idea. That door over there doesn’t lock and anyone could come in at any moment.”
He sat up slightly and put his hand behind my head, holding me there hard. His eyes looked like a fire had been lit in them. “I don’t give a f*ck if anyone sees us or hears us. Do you?”
I swallowed hard, surprised at his intensity. The way his eyes were burning into mine, I knew that this had to do with what Uncle Al had talked to him about last. Hell, I don’t know why I wasn’t feeling like giving him a big f*ck you either.
I shook my head. “No, I don’t.”
“Good,” he growled and then kissed me, tangling me in a wet, passionate kiss that made our tongues dance. I felt my body relax under his touch as his hands began to slip my underwear and shirt off. He tossed them across the room then put me on my back, his firm body pressing down on me. “This is real,” he said, voice oh so low, so gruff it made me throb. “This is nothing but real. You and me. Us. You know that, don’t you?”
I nodded. “I know.”
“Perry, I love you,” he said, his gaze drifting to my lips. “I’m not…” He paused. “I’m here. I’m staying here, by your side. This is more than just two people shacking up together. This is so much more.”
“Dex,” I said, my fingers trailing down his face. “Are you okay?”
He watched me for a few loaded beats before he closed his eyes. “Yes. Sorry. I’m okay, I’m just…I’m your f*cking man, baby. That’s all there is to it, I’m your f*cking man. That is never going to change.” He looked at me and grinned, his hair falling in his face. “And now I’m going to f*ck you till we embarrass ourselves.”
Before I could say anything to that, his mouth was on mine again and his fingers were sliding between my legs. He let out a moan when he felt how wet I was. It only took a minute of his deft exploration before I was close to coming so I shimmied out of his grasp and turned my self around so my mouth was at his cock. Naturally, my ass was at his face.
“Holy f*ck,” he said under his breath, and while I placed my hands firmly around his shaft, he gripped my hips and pulled me back a bit toward his face. Dex and I had been pretty adventurous in our relationship—I mean, nothing really compared to that night we had in the hotel New Orleans. But a sixty-nine was something new to me.
So while I concentrated on licking him from balls to satiny shaft, working him with my mouth, hands, and tongue as best I could, he was trying to get me off at the same time. And though I was one of those rare females who actually got turned on while giving a blow job (it helped that Dex was so perfectly endowed), it was hard to continue when his own tongue was sliding along my pleasure spots and making me forget where I was. Long story short—the sixty-nine position doesn’t work. You both get too turned on to keep going. It’s a beautiful failure.
“F*ck this,” I said, letting go of him and turning around. I placed my legs on either side of his hips, straddling him, and guided him into me.
“You’re taking charge today,” he said, staring up at me with feverish eyes. He bit his lip as I started rocking into him and moaned again.
“You might want to keep it down,” I whispered, vaguely conscious that Uncle Al, Marda, my cousins, and Rebecca were just a few rooms away.
“You might want to shut up and keep f*cking me,” he answered with a lazy smile.
That I did. I gently rocked back and forth on his cock, sitting up straight, my long black hair flowing over my shoulders as Dex enjoyed the view. I knew I wasn’t the prettiest, skinniest chick around, and now especially, but from the way he always looked at me with my body on display like I was a platter of ripe fruit, I knew I had to at least try and work it. I played with myself, building up to an orgasm before he swatted my hand away and replaced it with his thumb.
“Don’t take away my job,” he murmured, and then pulled me down toward him, my palms pressing into the strength of his shoulders, my breasts swinging near his face. With his free hand he took my nipple into his mouth and sucked hard enough to make me cry out from the sweet pain.
When he finally pulled his mouth away, he gazed up at me. “This is real, baby. This is us. Now, always, us.”
I could only pant from the increased pace from his thumb.
“That’s it, ride me raw.” He took a hard hold of my hip and made me ride him harder, faster, until I was coming at the same pace, my head thrown back in ecstasy. “Let me know how much you love to f*ck me.”
A cry or two escaped my lips, the throws of my orgasm flowing through every part of me and he didn’t hold back either, muttering a stream of delirious obscenities as he grunted to completion, the headboard banging hard against the wall.
I collapsed on his chest, our breath heavy, our bodies sweaty and spent, while my mind slowly rolled around from being on cloud nine to being in…Uncle Al’s house. My face burned red hot with the reality.
I looked up at Dex. “I was loud, wasn’t I?”
He stroked the top of my head with his hand. “You’re always loud, kiddo.”
“Shit.”
“Told you I’d embarrass us. Well, embarrass you. I don’t get embarrassed.”
“No, you really don’t,” I mused, brushing his hair out of his face. My god, I loved staring at him after sex. Every feeling I had for him was heightened and he could not have looked more handsome and comfortable.
A few moments passed, the both of us relishing each other’s post-coital company before we heard a very faint knock at the door.
“Uh, guys?” It was Rebecca.
“We’ll be right there,” I said loudly before rolling out of bed.
“Sorry to interrupt, I thought I’d wait till you were done,” she whispered before her heels clicked down the hallway.
I turned around to see Dex beaming at me. Great.
So yeah, I’m pretty sure the entire house heard our morning antics. Thank god we had to get moving and were late enough that our departure was hasty, even though both Matt and Tony were smirking like crazy when they said goodbye to Dex.
My uncle, on the other hand, looked like he was ready to kill me. I gave him a light hug as we left and told him I’d stay in touch. He didn’t look too enthused, though just as I was leaving the house he grabbed my hand and squeezed it hard. “Take care, Perry,” he said. “I mean it.”
I could only nod. Whether he was concerned for the safety of my heart or the safety of my life, I knew I’d do what I could to be vigilant.
“Well that wasn’t so bad,” Rebecca said from the backseat, looking behind her at the house as we pulled out of the driveway and headed south on Highway 101.
“Says you,” I said. “You were the charming British friend. You didn’t have to answer to Uncle Al and his disapproval on repeat.” I looked over at Dex at the wheel, his shades covering his eyes. “By the way, what did Uncle Al say to you? What did you guys talk about out there?” >
I knew it was a bit risky asking this when we weren’t alone but sometimes it felt like Rebecca was basically an extension of us, and it was obvious that something happened—I’d just been too carried away by my hormones that morning to figure it out.
He tilted his head, shrugging one shoulder like it was no big deal. “Nothing really. I just wanted to tell him that you were doing okay now. I didn’t want him or your parents to worry about you.”
“Didn’t go well, did it?” Rebecca asked with sympathy.
He glanced at her briefly. “No, it didn’t. He doesn’t hate me but he’s not a fan of the Dex charm. I guess first impressions really do stick around.”
“To be fair, Dex,” I pointed out, “most of your charm is in your dick. There’s a reason why you piss off half the population.”
“Ha,” he scoffed. “Anyway, I tried. But you know what, f*ck Uncle Al. Sorry. Really, Perry. I know he’s your uncle, but his approval means nothing if he can’t see the big picture. All it does is make me want to prove him wrong.”
“Prove him wrong about what?” I asked.
He sucked in his lip before saying, “That we aren’t right for each other. That you plus me equals disaster.” He put his chin down and eyed me over his sunglasses. “Don’t tell me he didn’t make you feel the same way?”
He pointed out that we’ve only known each other for eight months, I thought to myself. But there was no point in voicing it. Dex knew it. I knew it. We all knew it. But we couldn’t listen to what other people thought, family members or not. I know my mind wanted to go there. I know it wanted to think about it, I know I craved the approval like nothing else. But it couldn’t matter. If Dex and I were to have a chance as a couple, it couldn’t matter at all. We just had to do what felt right to us.
And it really felt damn good.
“It doesn’t matter what he thinks,” I said. I lowered my voice, even though I knew Rebecca was just as involved with our conversation as we were. “Your opinion is all that matters. And Becs, of course.”
“Thanks,” she said. “Who knew Uncle Al was such a stickler? Guess you’re having second thoughts about seeing your parents now.”
I let out a laugh. “You could say that. I’ll still see them though and deal with that shit when we come to it. Until then…I guess we have ghost kids to film.”
“Not that I want to put a damper on your attitude,” Dex cut in. “But you do remember the last time we had, well, hell sent rugrats around us, don’t you?”
D’Arcy Island. Between the ghost of the murdered Madeline and the leper baby, we had enough nightmare fodder from just that episode alone.
I suppressed a shudder. “I remember. What’s your point?”
“My point is, for the last few days you’ve been so preoccupied with your family and whatever else in that sexy head of yours that you’re coming across as, oh, I don’t know, insanely blasé about the whole situation.”
He was right about that. “I guess I haven’t really thought about it.”
Except in your dreams, a voice deep inside said. I pushed it away, not ready to think about it.
Dex turned around briefly to look at Rebecca. “Are you prepared for this?”
“That’s a ridiculous question,” she answered with a smart wave of her hand. “You’re acting like I’m not your production manager or anything.”
“But are you prepared for, you know…the children of the damned? Toddlers from hell? Art kids without Ritalin?”
She folded her arms and sat back in her seat. “I’m prepared for the usual—both of you freaking out over things that I can’t really see. Then I retreat and let you handle the rest. I’m prepared for that. Whether ghosts come into the equation or not, I don’t really care as long as you guys see them. And if you don’t see them, as long as you guys film something that can pass for it.”
I twisted around and gave her a steady look. “You do know that whatever we film, we see. We aren’t bullshitting.”
“Perry, I know that,” she told me. “But from a business point of view, it doesn’t matter. Make a masterpiece out of a floating paper bag if you can. Put a sheet on me. I don’t care. Just so we get the shots.”
I looked at Dex. “Boy, she’s starting to sound a lot like you.”
He smiled and rubbed at his scruffy chin. “What can I say, we both know what makes a good show and we both love to eat pie.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Oh, Dex,” Rebecca said wryly. “Please don’t ever change.”
“Wasn’t planning on it.”
As we drove down the coast, I put the window down and let the ocean breeze mess up my hair. The water was a moving metallic sheet and the sun was shining, flooding me with shallow happiness, though by the time we reached the one-street town of Rockaway Beach, wisps of fog began to float in. When we rounded a corner and passed the nondescript sign that said “Gary,” population 779, we were totally enclosed in a massive grey cloud.
“Not the nicest welcome,” I noted as I stared out the window. I could barely see beyond the road’s guardrail—I knew the ocean was still out there, right at our side, but the thick fog obscured everything.
“No, it’s not,” Rebecca said. She tapped me on the shoulder and then placed the small handheld camcorder in my hand. “But it makes for a perfect intro on film. Perry, film this. Dex, find a place to do a U-turn and drive through again.”
Dex and I exchanged a look at Rebecca’s leap into production manager mode.
“It has begun,” he joked in a low, ominous voice.
He yanked the Highlander into a U-turn, cutting off a Griswald-ish family in a minivan, and when I was finished holding on for dear life, I switched on the digital camcorder and filmed out the open window as we drove through again.
“Behold, the town of Gary,” I said in lieu of narration. Rebecca had me doing voiceovers after the fact. “It looks like it kind of sucks.”
I could feel her glaring at me but she couldn’t argue. Gary did look like it sucked. Even though it was almost summer, the pines that covered the sloping mountainside were a faded green, bordering on brown. The houses looked weathered and were simple, most of them one story and either shuttered into darkness by the trees or fronting a small yard with a chain-link fence and cement walkway. All the curtains were sealed shut and I didn’t see many gardens or the usual signs of habitation, such as kid’s toys in the driveways or hummingbird feeders.
The town itself wasn’t much better. I couldn’t make out where the marina was or if there even was a waterfront area (though I assumed there was since we were in Tillamook Bay), so there wasn’t really a focal point to it except for the main drag. There was a motel with a lighthouse motif, a few woodcarving and fish shops, a smattering of diners, and a corner store. Those were the only places that didn’t have a For Lease sign across them or boarded up windows.
We’d just got there and already the place was making me kind of sad.
“So are we staying at the lighthouse motel back there?” Dex asked Rebecca.
She hummed. “I haven’t made a reservation. The principal said we were welcome to stay on site if we wanted to. Apparently the school nurse now is set up where the old nurses’ quarters used to be, so there’s a few beds.”
I nearly stopped filming. “You think we should sleep where the nurses slept decades ago?”
“Don’t tell me you’re scared,” she said teasingly. “I think it would be good for the show. Don’t you think, Dex?”
I could tell he was looking at me but I kept my focus on the camera. In the past, Dex would have been the first one to jump into something risky and stupid, but nowadays he was very careful and protective of me. He used to want me to be scared—now he just wanted to keep me safe.
“We’ll see,” he said, and from the tone of his voice I knew that if I didn’t want to stay there, I wouldn’t have to. It wasn’t so much that I was scared, but the idea of really old beds and mattresses gave me the heebie jeebies. I’d take a tacky hotel over that any day.
“Oh, that must be the smoke stack from the old mill,” Rebecca said excitedly as we neared the thing Dex once described as an “ancient dildo.” “You’ll want to take your next left after we pass it and follow the road up into the hills for four miles.”
Dex wheeled the SUV away from the coast and we headed up along a long, winding road that disappeared into the cover of trees. “Not exactly in the neighborhood, is it?”
“Apparently the TB patients had to be higher up to get the best benefits. Anyway, from what I gather it seems like all the children are from Tillamook anyway. I’d be surprised if this town had many families left in it after the mills all closed down.” She nudged me gently. “Keep filming as we pull up.”
Dex made a clicking noise with his tongue. “Hey, Becs, let’s not try and take over my role completely. I know I was joking about the pie comment but Perry is off limits. Only I get to boss her around. Well, attempt to, anyway.”
“Sorry,” she apologized. “I guess I’m a bit nervous.”
“Oh yeah?” I asked, keeping the camera aimed at the road and the rows and rows of trees that passed by. Dex was going to have a lot of editing to do after this.
“Yes, it’s peculiar,” she said, her voice less chipper. “I don’t know why. It kind of started as soon as I saw the fog. Perhaps it makes me feel claustrophobic.”
I had to admit, I was feeling a bit like she was. Though I knew it had nothing to do with the blanket of fog and more to do with the slightly sinister, totally apprehensive vibe that the area was giving me.
“You think you’d be used to fog, coming from jolly f*cking England and all,” Dex said.
She ignored that, and a few minutes later we were pulling through a pair of massive wrought-iron gates that were battle scarred with rust from the relentless ocean air. On either side of the gates was a crumbling stone wall about seven-feet high that stretched off into the dark trees.
Before us was the long, wide gravel driveway that led to an enormous white building. It was slightly reminiscent of the mental institution that Dex and I filmed at in Seattle but much longer and two wings and five floors. With its pointed apex, it looked a bit like a European castle or chalet hidden in the mountains.
The only thing about it that reminded you it was a school was a colorful rainbow mural that stretched along the outside wall of the first floor. Every floor above that, however, showed peeling paint and decay.
“We’re here,” Dex said slowly. “And I’m suddenly grateful for the ghetto school I ended up going to.”
“No kidding,” I said. We parked the car in the lot beside a private school bus that said Oceanside Arts Academy and got out.
The first thing I noticed was a change in the temperature and air quality. It was about five degrees colder up here and pierced your lungs. The fog was lighter too and you could see faint patches of blue sky if you looked above your head. I reached back into the car and quickly grabbed my Kyuss hoodie. Not very professional, but it was warm.
I looked at Dex and Rebecca as they stood beside me, staring up at the towering building. “Are we filming first or bothering with that later?” I looked at both of them to ensure I wasn’t leaving one of them out. I knew Dex was feeling a bit slighted when it came to filming now.
“Well, if it were up to me,” he said pointedly, “we would go in and look around first before we start with the cameras. But Miss Sims here made all the plans…”
She gave him a tight smile. “And Miss Sims agrees with you.”
She turned and headed up the driveway to the front doors. Dex and I walked a few paces behind her, watching as she sashayed in her capri pants and striped boat neck top, like she was about to board a friggin’ yacht in 1955.
I pulled at Dex’s elbow and leaned into him. “Do you believe her spiel about claustrophobia, or are you getting the weirds too?”
“The weirds? Kiddo, I have the weirds in spades.” He looked up again at the building, at the broken windows and moldy curtains of the upper floors. “This place is something else.”
“You think it’s going to be a good show?” I asked quietly.
His mouth twisted. “I’m not sure what good is anymore. I think—I know—that this place is definitely haunted as f*ck. I’m just hoping we can get in and get out with our lives and sanity intact.”
“If I knew better, I’d say you were being paranoid.”
He frowned. “You know there is no such thing as paranoid when it comes to us.”
“You two coming?” Rebecca called out. When we both turned to face her, we noticed a pale, heavyset woman standing at the top of the stairs leading to the giant oak doors. Rebecca looked back, jumping slightly as if she had a fright.
“Are you the TV people?” the woman asked in a nasally voice, the alabaster jowls of her neck swaying. She reminded me of a Disney villain, which probably wasn’t the impression she was going for. But with her dark brown dress, severe eyebrows that looked like someone made em-dashes above her eyes, and mousy brown hair piled high into a topknot, it was hard not to make the comparison.
“The internet people, yes,” Rebecca corrected her as she came forward up the stairs, dainty hand extended. “I’m Rebecca Sims, the production manager for Experiment in Terror. I was the one emailing you.” >
The woman raised her nose in the air, eyeing her carefully. I could tell her focus was fixed on Rebecca’s polished red lips and nails. “I recall.” She shook her hand and then turned her attention to Dex and I. Without realizing it, both he and I had stopped where we stood and were just staring at this terrifying woman. “And who might you be?”
I elbowed Dex to speak first.
He sprung right into it, marching forward and taking the woman’s hand in his. He pumped it hard twice and then asked with that infectious smile of his, “I’m Dex Foray, the only penis involved in the show. And who might you be?”
I sighed. I should have spoken first.
I immediately went up to her, climbing the first two steps and shot her an apologetic grin. “What he’s trying to say is he’s the cameraman and editor. I’m the host, Perry Palomino. Thank you for letting us shoot here, Mrs…?”
She put her hands on her hips and with a frosty expression said, “I’m Ainsley Davenport, the principal of Oceanside. I’m afraid I wasn’t expecting you until later this afternoon.”
Ainsley Davenport. Though it wasn’t Ursula, the name suited her to a tee.
“Sorry,” Dex said, still smiling, which meant he was enjoying himself. “We had to leave our last lodging in a hurry. You know how it is.”
She gave him a dry, steady look that stretched on for seconds. “I see. Well, I have a bit of paperwork and some calls to make so I’m afraid I won’t be much help to you until school is dismissed at three. I can get the nurse to give you a tour and perhaps you can meet with Mrs. McIntosh then. She teaches painting. She’s the one who…started this whole thing.”
At that, she turned around and went back into the building. The three of us looked at each other. Should we follow? Stay here? But before we could debate it out loud, a beanpole of a woman in a loose blouse and white pants stood before us.
“Hi,” she said in a voice so timid and quiet that I found myself leaning forward, trying to catch the words. “I’m Kelly. I’m the school nurse here. It’s nice to meet you all.”
We quickly made our introductions again, Dex being polite this time, then Kelly motioned for us to come inside.
Though the outside of the school looked like it was built hundreds of years ago, the inside, at least on the first floor, looked beautifully refurbished. The floor in the foyer was a shiny grey marble, the walls outfitted with wall sconces and intricate paneling. Ornate light fixtures gleamed from overhead. Though it didn’t look like a hospital, it certainly didn’t look like a school either.
“This is very lovely,” Rebecca said admiringly.
Kelly nodded. She had this way about her that reminded me of a heron. Her movements were slow, lanky and calculated. “Down to our left are the administration offices. It’s a small school, only about a hundred students, so we don’t use all the space on the first floor. But Ms. Davenport made sure that every single corner of the first floor has been remodeled, some say even past its original glory.”
“Is your room down there?” Dex asked. “Rumor has it that it might be our bedroom tonight.”
She nodded again, not meeting his eyes. “If you’d like. It’s a very nice room. Come this way, please.” She started off down the hall, Rebecca’s kitten heels clicking as she followed.
“Oceanside was a very nice school,” Kelly called to us over her shoulder, “before it burnt down, of course. No one knows what caused the fire, but it destroyed absolutely everything. It was very strange and it displaced a lot of children whose parents…well, it’s not for me to say. But we needed a quick substitute.”
We passed by closed office doors with embossed names printed on frosted glass, complete with brass doorknobs. You’d think all this refurbishment and newness would do something to quell that creepy feeling I had, but instead I felt like the fog was following us into the building. I had to keep looking behind me to make sure no one was there.
Kelly came to a stop before an open door. She gave us a small smile, and now that I was closer to her, I could see she had kind green eyes that contrasted vividly with her strawberry blonde hair. “This school is for very gifted children who wish to specialize in the arts. Or whose parents think they should explore their talent. It costs a lot of money to attend here and yet you should have seen the fuss they made when it came to gathering funds to build the new school. Setting up Oceanside here was a no brainer for most people.”
“You don’t seem to agree,” Dex asked astutely.
She raised a brow. “I’d rather not work in an old sanatorium, if that’s what you mean.” She cleared her throat, looking around sheepishly as if she’d be reprimanded for speaking her mind, and then gestured to the room. “This is my office. If you go past the door in there, it opens up into the old nurses’ quarters.”
The first room was nothing more than your normal nurse’s office, though of high sanitary regard with its gleaming floors and sink, tidy shelves, and two single cots with tightly tucked in sheets. The walls were adorned with drawings from what I assumed were the kids, though they looked a million times better than any drawing I ever did. There were charcoal and pastel portraits of Kelly, watercolors of forests, and one portrait of a young boy holding onto a ragged teddy bear, dressed in 1930s garb.
“Every kid here has talent,” Kelly said, catching my eye and then motioning us forward. We stepped through the doorway and looked at our potential dwellings as she flicked on the light. I guess I was expecting something rotten and decrepit but it didn’t look bad at all. It was a little sparse—the children’s drawings didn’t extend this far and the walls were bare. There were four twin beds in a row, each separated by a gauzy curtain that attached to a rod on the ceiling. The beds looked like hotel beds—clean but not plush.
“So this used to be where the nurses slept back in the old days?” Dex asked.
“Half of this floor was like this,” she said, patting the end of one of the beds. “There were five hundred patients here, sometimes more, and at least thirty nurses and administrators. Once people came to this place as staff, they never left.”
“Never?” I asked.
She shook her head. “No. TB was considered the White Plague, you know. They all thought it was highly contagious, and until there was a cure, everyone was stuck. I’m not sure if you noticed, but halfway down the road between here and the town, there’s a small building on the side of the road. It’s hidden by trees so you have to look for it. That used to be the post office. The mail carriers would only come so close to the building for fear of catching the disease.”
“Jesus,” Dex swore. “So if you took a job here, there was a good chance you wouldn’t see your family for a long time.”
“Not until the 50s when the cure was found and the hospital was closed,” she said sadly. “It explains why so many of the nurses killed themselves. Why so many of them…eventually went crazy.”
The skin at the back of my neck puckered. Just great. Not only did we have the potential ghosts of kids who died from TB but also their nurses who went crazy and killed themselves. I started to have one of those “maybe this isn’t a good idea, maybe we should pack up and go home, maybe I should listen to my crazy dead grandmother in my dreams” kind of moments, the ones that either mean nothing or make you regret not trusting your gut.
But then again, if it wasn’t for doing the more interesting option, I would have never met Dex and would have never joined Experiment in Terror. There was something to be said about moving forward in the face of fear. I swallowed down my uneasiness and listened to Kelly.
“Nonetheless,” she went on, “since the whole first floor was redone and the rest of the nurses’ rooms were made into offices, Ms. Davenport kept this as it is to try and keep the flavor of the past. Her words, not mine. You’re more than welcome to stay here though. There’s a bathroom with showers just next door. Sometimes when I’m too tired after work to drive home, I sleep here.”
“Anything strange happen to you?” I asked.
Her eyes grew momentarily large, focused on the door. “Just that.”
We all turned to see what she was looking at. A small orange rubber ball came rolling into the office, bouncing to a stop when it hit the doorframe. It was followed by a few impish giggles that seemed to fade into the air.
I felt an absolute chill blanket me. I looked at Rebecca, my heart racing. “Did you see that?”
She nodded, though to my disappointment she didn’t look the least bit scared. “It’s a ball. Probably one of the kids from here, am I right?”
Kelly smiled at her. “You’re right. He’s from here. Except he’s not one of Oceanside’s students. He was from Sea Crest. And he died in 1932.”