Ghosts of Rosewood Asylum (4 page)

Ray took a scapular from his locker and
kissed it before draping the small, Catholic sacramental article over his head
and tucking it into his shirt.

“You know that isn’t just supposed to be a
good luck charm,” Zach said. He also wore one of them—he and Ray had gotten
them together at their Confirmation ceremony in sixth grade.

“Okay, Mr. Judgmental,” Ray said. “You keep
your Sundays as you want, and I’ll keep mine as I wish.” He shoved his sweaty
clothes into his gym bag. “So how’s your dad getting along?”

“He’s okay. Still grieving or maybe still in
shock. He and my mom may not have had the best marriage, but they were together
for almost thirty years.”

Ray stopped packing and stared at him. “And
you? How are you with it?”

It was a question that, since the funeral,
Zach hadn’t asked himself often. Over the years as his mother’s condition
worsened, more so as her emotional illness worsened, his visits had become less
and less frequent. After one unusually intense outburst, his dad suggested, for
the benefit of everyone, Zach stop coming by the hospital altogether. That
arrangement had lasted six months—until she’d called him to her deathbed.

“I’m okay. I mean, you know. It’s hard but…”

“No, I don’t know,” Ray said, shaking his
head. “And I don’t even want to imagine how hard it is, but I am here for you,
buddy.”

“I know. Thanks.” They rarely shared moments
like this. “Anyway, the biggest thing now is establishing a relationship with
Dad again. It’s different now.”

“I’ll bet,” Ray said. “Wow. Almost three
decades of marriage, huh? That’s gotta be some adjustment for him to go
from...that to living alone.”

 “Oh, that reminds me. Dad and I need
your help this weekend. The old deck on the house is showing signs of termite
damage.”

Ray had finished getting dressed. “That
rickety ole thing? Yeah, and?”

 “And we’re going to have to tear it
down and haul it away ASAP before those little buggers spread.”

“Yeah?
And?
” He smiled.

 “Screw you. Are you going to make me
beg for help and the use of your precious cargo truck?”

Ray smirked. “Nah, as you know, I would do
just about anything for…” He slapped Zach on the shoulder. “…your dad.”

Despite his growing apprehension, Zach
grinned. Ray was loyal, practically a brother, but Zach could sense his
friend’s disappointment at having to work with the Demon Hunters. Would the
other team members merely be let down, or would they feel betrayed?

Chapter Three

Oak and maple trees dotted the campus of
Saint Xavier University. Their orange and red leaves waved in the breeze
brushing against their green counterparts as if reminding them that they too
would be falling to the ground. Unrelenting autumn would strip the trees naked
by the end of the season. A faint musk of decay hung in the air that even a
strong breeze couldn’t whisk away. Students scurrying from one mundane class to
another seemed ambivalent to the subtle alterations that, one after the next,
were leading them into winter.

Sara had arranged for Zach to make the
announcement of the Halloween Special to
XPI
on the university quad in a
circular sitting area near the bronze Our Lady of Mercy statue. She felt
filming on campus added a “collegiate flavor” to the show that appealed to a
young audience.

The fall afternoon reminded Zach of the day
years prior when he founded
Xavier Paranormal Investigators.
He had
waited on the quad wondering if anyone would take seriously his posted flyers
expressing interest in forming a ghost hunting group. Ray tagged along offering
moral support. Little did either of them know that he would one day be an
integral part of the team. Shelly Raynor, a Criminal Justice major, was the
first to show up. Dark haired and attractive, she confessed that she would join
only for a few cases. Once she completed her degree, she claimed, she’d be
getting a job as a crime scene investigator. Several years and dozens of cases
later, she still remained on
XPI
. Zach suspected that she’d one day work
for the federal government. In his mind’s eye, he could already picture her
dressed in a navy blue suit normally worn by FBI agents.

Rebecca Smythe had been the next to join
XPI
,
but she likely wouldn’t have said twenty words had it not been for Shelly’s
delicate interrogation. Short and plain-looking, Rebecca wore wanton brown hair
that completely contradicted her personality.  She revealed that she held
a strong commitment to the supernatural that had emerged from a personal
experience she had declined to share. Because she had researched the paranormal
extensively, Zach made her the team Occult Specialist. Their first case, she
discovered an ancient Navajo ceremony to release the spirits of infants who
were haunting a school that had been converted from a hospital where the babies
had died in childbirth. Since then, Rebecca’s dedication and research had made
her an expert in the supernatural.

Over the years, students joined and left,
but the core members of
XPI
–which included the technical guys who’d been
added later, had become a family of sorts. Sometimes it was a dysfunctional
one, but a family nonetheless. And now, Zach was going to shock them with two
surprises. One, the case at Rosewood, he knew they’d like, but the other,
working with the Demon Hunters, had the potential to divide them.

“Okay ladies and gents,” Sara said, snapping
Zach back to the present. “Is everyone here? Where’s Matthew Morgan?”

“I’m here,” Matthew said. He was wearing a
black t-shirt and a red baseball cap. They’d done twelve episodes and he had
made that combination of apparel his signature of sorts. Matthew, a theater
production major, was an expert in producing intricate stage sets. His
ingenuity carried over into his work on the show. Whenever a contraption needed
to be constructed to facilitate lighting or cameras, Matthew was “the man.”
While he’d earned his reputation for being tardy, he had arrived early and
already constructed a makeshift platform for the cameraman to get shots from an
elevated position.

It was Mike “Turk” Turko, Ray’s audio and
video review counterpart, who appeared to be running behind schedule.

“Where the hell is the Turk?” Sara demanded.

Zach cringed as soon as Angel Perez opened
his mouth to speak. “He’s probably banging the easiest freshman he could find.”

As
XPI
had come to rely more and more
on technical equipment, Zach had recruited Angel as their Technical Lead. The
pudgy, acne-scarred Mexican-American was not a handsome man, per se, and his
antagonism and resentment towards the Turk made him even less attractive.

Sara glowered at Zach as though both Angel’s
attitude and Turk’s lateness were his fault. Zach pulled out his cell phone
but, just then, Turk popped out of the glass doors of the brick building
nearest them, the cafeteria. His slicked back jet-black hair and sunglasses
gave him the slightest hint of movie star quality which he played to the hilt.
Chomping on a banana, he hustled over to the group.

“Thanks for showing up, Turko,” Angel said.
“Nice banana. Don’t you usually freeze those and use ‘em when you’re alone?”

“Hey.” Zach squinted at Angel. “You’re in
mixed company here.” He did not intend to continue playing referee between
those two. Their history of gamesmanship was obviously not clean.

Most of the
XPI
team cast
not-so-subtle glances at Wendy Merrick, their Historical Researcher. Wendy had
been added to the
XPI
team immediately prior to filming their debut episode.
Thin, blonde and self-conscious, had she refused to date either Angel or Turk,
no one would have been uncomfortable. Had she not been girlfriend to
both
of them at various times over the prior summer, the comfort level would have
been perfect.

“Okay people, listen up!” Sara’s normal
energetic demeanor kicked into an even higher gear.

As usual, Ray was standing as close to Sara
as he could without literally casting his shadow on her. “I’m listening,” he
said.

As usual, she ignored him. “We’re going to
start filming. Zach’s going to fill you in on the case details. Give me some
honest reactions and no clowning around. Zach’s got a couple surprises in
store.”

She pointed at him, which meant that the
high-definition cameraman standing near her was already filming.

“Welcome back,
Xavier Paranormal
Investigators.
As most of you have heard, we’ve been given a high-profile
case that will likely be a ninety-minute special to air on Halloween night.
What you don’t know is that—”

“Wait,” Angel said. “Sara, do you want me
filming this?” He held up a hand-held video camera which they used in many
scenes to give the show a documentary appearance.

A collective grumble went through the group.
Turk’s groan was predictably louder and longer than the others. Shelly whispered
something to Rebecca, and the pair exchanged a smirk and a grin. God only knew
how and where Sara would splice that sneaky little shot into the episode.

“Keep rolling,” Sara said to the HD
cameraman. “Yes, Angel. Start filming.”

Zach regrouped. “What most of you don’t know
is
where
this assignment will take us.” He stuck his hands in his
pockets, looked at his feet and began pacing. Zach tried not to act overly
dramatic while the cameras were running. He felt that sometimes just a slight
dramatic effect—like him pacing, improved the show’s timing. “There is a place
that I’ve wanted to investigate most of my life. I’d almost given up on ever
getting that opportunity.”

Shelly raised her hand and whisked dark hair
off her face for the camera shot. Zach knew her guess before she even asked it.
She had a penchant and passion for investigating female ghosts. “Willowbrook
Ballroom?” she asked.

The western suburban dance hall was the
second most notable presumed-haunted facility in Chicago. Hundreds of people had
reported having seen or experienced a ghost named “Resurrection Mary” on or
near the grounds. Shelly had been lobbying him to let
XPI
investigate
that spot all year.

 Zach stopped pacing, looked up at her
and tilted his head. “Nope.”

Presumably having guessed the answer, a
couple team members gasped, most were just silent.

Thumping her hand to her chest, Wendy was
the first to vocalize it. “Rosewood Asylum!”

Again, silence.

Even the normally frenetic quad hushed.
Students, who had been allowing a relatively wide berth, slowed or stopped as
though in reverent admiration.

“Yes,” Zach said. He puffed out his chest
and took a step toward the group. He and Sara had discussed, even rehearsed
this next speech. Not only would it come off well on TV, but it would ensure
that no one in the group could later back out without looking like a total
quitter. “And I need to know, here and now, if anyone feels strongly about not
investigating this with me. Even if it’s just a nagging fear from inside that
you won’t be able to hold up under the pressure, I won’t care now if you come
forward and decline this mission.”

Only Ray pursed his lips; he already knew
what was coming. The others, as though mesmerized, just stared.

“I need to know right now. Are we in this
together?” Zach asked. “Are we in this together, no matter what?”

Most nodded slowly. Looking around, Matthew
spoke up. “I think we’re all behind you, boss.”

Zach exhaled deeply and smiled. He glanced
at Sara who was already sending a text message to cue the next act of the
performance.

The team fired questions at Zach in rapid
succession.

“How did we get permission from the state?”

“How much time will we have?”

“When do we start?”

Zach held up one finger and shook his head.
“Guys...guys, I still have one major announcement.”

The team quieted. The cameraman slowly
circled behind Zach discreetly pointing his lens at the faces of the team. Sara
held up a handheld video cam at the doors that Turk had earlier emerged from.
Ray’s smirk had transformed into a rueful grimace.

“Because this is such a major undertaking,”
Zach continued, “the network has seen fit to provide us some help, some
reinforcements, I’d like to call them.”

Ray tapped Angel on the shoulder and pointed
to the cafeteria exit where the Demon Hunters were emerging. Seeing the stunned
looks on his team’s faces and knowing they were being captured in high
definition, Zach wondered if he’d made a major mistake.

Chapter Four

Led across the quad by their enigmatic host
Bryce Finman, the Demon Hunters looked like a pack of Hells Angels who’d ridden
their motorcycles through the entire length of a circus train. In their
late-twenties to early-thirties, they were grungy, colorful and eclectic in a
“rock star” sort of way. The Demon Hunters were tall, and to a person, appeared
much thinner than they did on television. Two of the five looked almost
emaciated—or maybe it was just an illusion produced by their thick layers of
make up.