AU: Hey there, thanks for coming back! So, this one brings us back to the present again, back to Beth's creepy dormitory, and the real hauntings begin. Extra-long, to make up for skimping in the previous chapter. (I should probably point out that I was on a Silent Hill binge when I wrote this one, actually....)

10

I set up my playlist to run no less than fifteen minutes before my shift was done, so I could leave before Jasper arrived. Usually I waited for the next person to show up in case they were late, but I had no desire to run into Jasper again. I was getting out of there as fast as humanly possible.

It was getting colder. The snow had started early this afternoon, and hadn't quit until nightfall. That didn't seem like a long time, but it had been heavy, and it had stuck. I walked past one smooth drift after another as I headed for my dormitory. The snow like this, quiet and still, was so beautiful. It wasn't really white, of course, unless you thought of "white" as the absence of color. The billions of tiny, almost microscopic flakes were like a pile of tiny crystals or bits of glass, each the size of a single grain of sand. And as I passed them, they glittered. Not all at once, but blending, reflecting the rose-colored lights that lined the walkway.

When I finally collapsed on my bed, I couldn't sleep. I was plenty tired, but I couldn't relax, couldn't get comfortable, couldn't stop my mind from flipping through my distressed thoughts like an impatient child with a remote control. The air in the room felt heavy and close, as if it was pressing down on me.

Why had Jasper been waiting at the language building for me? How had he known I always used the back door? Was he really tutoring Spanish? (Well, okay, that part I kind of did believe—if he was really from Texas, and I thought he was, then he probably had a working knowledge of South of the Border dialect.)

It was now 3am by the clock on my desk. The most haunted hour of the night, according to Ray Bradbury. I had to get out of here—I was taking a walk. I got up, put my winter coat on over my pajamas and headed outside. This wasn't the first time I'd gotten insomnia; I was going to the lake across from the Common building. There was a footbridge and a tiny gazebo on the other side, and I'd gone there to sit and think before. It wasn't a long walk, but it was chilly.

I kept my chin tucked down into my coat, away from the cold. I couldn't see more than a few feet in front of me with my head down like that, but I'd been this way so many times it didn't make much difference.

The thing that was bugging me the most was Jasper. Just this afternoon (yesterday afternoon?) I'd defended him in front of Mike, when Mike had called him creepy. And then he had shown up outside of my French class with his creepiness turned up farther than I'd ever seen it. He'd seemed uncomfortable, but he always seemed uncomfortable. The only time he acted like a normal human was when Alice was around.

Actually, Alice was the only living being, besides myself, that I'd ever seen him around, period. For a split second I wondered if he didn't exist, if he was just a figment of my imagination coming to take over the radio station when I wasn't there. But that idea didn't last long—Mike had talked to me about him, and our boss had put his name on the payroll.

"Get a grip, Beth," I muttered to myself.

Then I heard something. Music, something old-fashioned—some kind of early jazz, maybe—was playing ahead of me. I stretched my neck up; in the gazebo, just a few yards from where I stood, Alice and Jasper were dancing. There was a portable CD player on one of the benches along the path, and the two lovers swirled in and out of the soft electric light around them.

Something struck me about the way the light reflected off their skin, but I couldn't put my finger on it. Something familiar. There were both pale, but not in that pinched, sleep-deprived, unhealthy way. They glowed and shimmered, like a pair of porcelain figurines in a music box.

The music swelled to its coda, then it was quiet again. Jasper took both of Alice's hands in his, pulled her close, and pressed his face to her ear. She made a face and laughed. The sound left an ethereal echo in the night air, clear and delicate as a glass bell. Jasper smiled and kissed her soundly. Yep—he was definitely less spooky when he was with her. I wondered what he'd said to her.

Suddenly they both went still. Jasper appeared at the bench with the CD player—I say "appeared" because that's what it looked like to me; he moved so fast, he could have teleported—and turned it off before the next song could start. They were both staring at me, Alice still under the gazebo, Jasper at the bench with his hand on the radio.

I froze. In that moment I was glad that my face got flushed in cold weather, because they wouldn't be able to tell I was blushing.

"Beth?" said Alice. "Why are you out so late?"

It didn't occur to me to throw the question back at her; somehow the night, and the cold, suited them. "I. . ." I fumbled.

Jasper moved closer to me. His eyes locked on me, and I couldn't move. But then a wave of calm washed over me, warm and soothing. I let out the breath I'd been holding without realizing it, and my shoulders slumped.

"I'm sorry if I scared you earlier," said Jasper. "Are you all right?"

"I wasn't scared," I lied. "What are you guys doing out here?"

Alice came up and put her arm around Jasper's waist, smiling up at him. "Tonight's a special night for us," she said. "We always do something."

"Oh." I cleared my throat. "I didn't mean to interrupt you. I couldn't sleep."

"We'll walk you back," said Jasper.

Alice tugged his arm and gave him a pleading look.

"I know," Jasper said. "It's okay—I just want to see it."

"Wait a second—this isn't some kind of trick to see my dorm, is it?" I asked.

Jasper looked at me. "No," he said slowly. "Would you rather go back by yourself?"

I thought about the heavy atmosphere, and the voices I'd heard, and shuddered. "Not really. . ."

"We'll walk with you," said Alice. "But we're not going inside." She shot Jasper a look, her pretty mouth tightened down in a line.

What the hell?

I shrugged. "Fine," I said. Then I walked on without waiting for them. Maybe I was dreaming. Maybe I'd gotten to sleep after all and given myself a trippy nightmare on account of the way Jasper had acted yesterday.

None of us spoke until I reached the front door; yeah, it was definitely a dream. I turned back to thank them for walking with me, but Jasper had stopped several feet back from the entrance. Jasper's face was a difficult one to read at the best of times, but I caught this one immediately: horror. He was petrified of my dorm.

Alice noticed it too. "Oh, Jasper," she moaned. "I tried to warn you—"

"I've been here before."

That's when I figured it out: the snow. Their skin, under the amber-colored lights above the entrance foyer, glowed and glimmered like packed, hardened snow.

For of sugar and ice I am made.

I took a step backward into the doorway. At the same moment, Jasper turned around, muttered, "I have to. . ." to no one in particular, and headed off the way we'd come.

Alice glanced back at me. "Sorry, I better catch up with him," she said. "Sleep tight!" Then she danced down the steps and blew me a kiss over her shoulder.

Well. I'd had waking dreams before. You know, dreams that felt so real you had to go to "sleep" in order to wake up in real life? I didn't really believe this was a dream, but I had to go to bed either way.

I also had to go by those ornate double-doors with the walled-off balcony overhead in order to get to my room. As I passed, I heard a sharp-edged, creaking sound. I stopped. I looked behind me, and in front of me—nothing in the hallway. I took another step, and heard another creak. No—it was more like a squeak. Rusty wheels turning.

The balcony. I looked over: there was a wheeled cot-like bed on the balcony above the doors. A hospital gurney. The inside of my chest was suddenly hot and fluttery, and I felt my breath quickening. I went forward again, slowly. The gurney rolled along with me, staying directly across from me on the balcony.

I crossed the rest of the space to the narrow hallway on the other side. There was a metallic crash behind and above me as the gurney hit the wall. I turned back for a quick peek. I don't know why—just assuring myself that it was still there, I guess.

It was there. The bed sheets were dingy off-white and covered in dark stains. But the sheets didn't lie completely flat on the flimsy mattress. Is there someone on that thing? I wondered. No sooner than the thought formed in my head than the sheets began to rise.

I ducked back into the hallway and pressed myself against the wall. I couldn't make myself go forward. The air was so thick and heavy I could barely move. I screwed my eyes shut and covered my mouth with both hands; my breathing was much too loud.

Then the voices started. Rushed, frantic whispers that came from everywhere all at once. I didn't catch all the words, but I heard, "Closer! Closer!" several times. And then, that hard, clear voice from my nightmare: "NOT CLOSE ENOUGH."

I shrieked, "Stop it!"

The noise, the thickness in the air, and the horrible sense that I was not alone vanished so suddenly it almost made me scream again. The instant, empty quiet was frightening in a different way; now all I could hear was the blood pounding in my ears.

I stopped at my room just long enough to get a pillow and my toothbrush, then I walked back outside dialing Mike's number as I went.

He picked up with a groggy, "H'lo?"

"Hi, it's Beth. My dorm's haunted. Can I come over?"

"Huh?"

"Look, I'll explain later. Just . . . can I come over?"

"Uh. . . Okay. I'll unlock the door."

"Thanks." Then another thought came to me. "Hey, what day is this?"

"Jesus—I don't know."

"Is it a holiday or anything?"

"Um. . . Oh yeah, it's one of those bullshit federal holidays, 'cause I couldn't get into the bank this morning. Veteran's Day."