Prepare accordingly for this chapter! The girl's are checking out Donna's case from last chapter, and there are some surprises along the way.
It's ridiculously long, outrageously silly, and just something I've wanted to do for a really long time. Please let me know what you think, and if you're interested in more chapters like this!
"Nestled along the outskirts of the peaceful town of Montpelier, Idaho lies a dark secret, a permanent stain on the county's otherwise spotless reputation. For this is where Emerald Mountain Psychiatric Hospital for the Mentally Ill stands. Opened in 1876, it was the home to those who were unlucky enough to be declared mentally insane . . . or worse, criminally insane. Rumors surrounding the hospital claim that over a thousand lives were lost in the span of ten years alone, and that the hospital is now one massive unmarked grave. According to rumors, the hospital was never quiet, always filled with the screams of the innocent and the laughter of the insane. Riots were common, and by far the bloodiest conflict was the 1953 riot, which lasted almost a week and was the death of thirty-eight patients and sixteen staff members. Now, on the anniversary of that riot, we will delve into the despicable past of the asylum, and –"
"Harry, check it out. Someone graffitied boobies on the wall."
Harry Spengler huffed, lowering the camcorder he was holding, and turned to face his friend.
"Ed!" he complained. "You completely ruined the immersion of it."
"Dude, sorry, but look." Ed grinned and pointed at the wall again, where a crude pair of breasts had been outlined in red spray paint. "Boobies."
"The only boobies you'll ever see," Harry grumbled, shouldering his duffle bag full of ghost-hunting supplies. "Look, when we decided to get the Ghostfacers back together –"
"Which I am so psyched about, by the way!" Ed exclaimed. "Actual ghost hunting, none of that urban legend creepypasta shit. This is real."
"I'm serious, man," Harry continued. "When we decided to get the Ghostfacers back together, we said we were going to be a serious group. The real deal. You think we're going to make it in this career because of our pretty faces? Huh? No. That's what Zak Bagans is for." He looked around in annoyance. "Where are the others anyway?"
"They went to get take out," Ed said, leaving behind his beloved graffitied breasts to set up a night vision camera facing the door of the old asylum. Emerald Mountain was old, it was true, and notoriously haunted. What had caught Ed's attention, though, was that twelve people had gone missing since the closure of the asylum in 1977. All twelve people had been trespassing – which technically Ed and his friends were doing now – on the anniversary of the riot that had claimed so many lives. When he discovered this rumor, he had called up Harry. The two of them had a rather tense relationship after what happened with the whole Thinman fiasco, but this is just what they needed to bring them together – a real ghost case.
"So what's the story on this place?" Harry asked, putting his hands on his hips and looking up at the huge building. It was massive, made of dark red stone with black windows and doors, most of which were barred or boarded up. Paint peeled from the shutters, and ivy and other plants grew wild along and up the building. The entire building was hidden on an overgrown back road and protected by a (easily penetrable) chain length fence. "Is the rumor true? Did it get shut down because the doctors were performing experiments on the patients?"
"Nah," Ed said, digging through his equipment. "Health inspector shut it down. Asbestos."
"We'll leave that part out of the documentary."
A shutter slammed in the wind, startling the boys, who laughed uncomfortably. The building looked particularly creepy in the dimming evening light, and Harry was reminded of something out of Scooby Doo.
"Got the salt?"
"Right here," Ed said, holding up a large canister of kitchen salt. There were several others in one of the bags, as well as some iron crosses and other dramatic props. Harry and Ed were determined to make this their big break.
The rumbling of a van broke the silence, and the official Ghostfacers tour van (i.e., Ed's mom's old Odyssey) parked under the cover of some trees. Maggie, Travis, and AJ excited the van, carrying Chinese takeout containers and various bags of equipment.
"This better not be a bust, Ed," Maggie told her brother sharply. "I'm missing two derby's this 'reunion special.'"
"It's not a bust!" Ed argued. "I did the research and talked to the locals. This place is totally the real deal."
After they ate and finished setting up their equipment, they all met in the lobby of the asylum. It smelled of dust and decay, and the place had been vandalized for years. It was trashed with empty beer cans, cigarette butts, and other garage from the past 40 years. Maggie looked disgusted, and more and more skeptical about being here. Ed swallowed nervously, hoping desperately this place was the real thing. If not, he'd never live it down. There'd be no coming back from it.
"Alright," Harry said, taking charge of the situation despite his racing heartbeat. "We'll take it by wing. We can start with the hospital wing before moving on to the criminal wing. Everyone have their radios? Cameras? Night vision?"
A murmur of agreement came from the group, and Harry gave a nod. "Alright. Let's do this."
Even if the building wasn't haunted, it was eerie, and dangerous – spots in the floor had rotted, and ceiling beams hung broken and creaking, a constant threat. As soon as they began moving up the stairs, they could hear banging above them, and Maggie swore to anyone that would listen to her that she could hear an angry voice curse at her.
Ed was totally and completely freaked out, but also ecstatic – he was right! The place was haunted. He was on the road to rebuilding his partnership – and friendship – with Harry.
"Alright," Harry said, smoothing his hair and standing in what he thought was a confident position leaned against the wall but actually made him look awkward. "Are we good?"
Ed glanced at the camera he was holding, making sure Harry was in the shot, and gave a nod. "Three . . . two . . . one . . ." he pointed at Harry, who pushed off the wall casually (stumbling).
"Here we are in the North wing of Emerald Mountain," Harry said, walking slowly so that Ed could get a clear shot of their surroundings. "From the moment we entered, our team could feel a strong presence. Here in this wing, the mentally ill were treated for everything from schizophrenia to simple madness. Treatments were often dangerous and painful, and they say if you listen carefully, you can still hear the wailing of the patients. One of the patients, who lived in the very room we stand in front of, was none other than Susie Knotts, an eight year old girl who had spells of paranoia and anger so violent, even the adult nurses – as well as her own parents – were scared of her. She was dropped off here at the age of six, and never left, dying after an inmate went berserk and pushed her down the stairs. Many say if you try to speak with her, she'll react with anger and throw a tantrum. We're going to try to contact her now."
He dramatically opened the door, letting it creak open. After they all entered, they closed it behind them. The room was a disaster. More graffiti covered the walls. A filthy mattress sat in the corner, across from it an ancient cracked vanity. The room was completely silent, and Harry entered and stood in the middle of the room, holding up a poorly made EMF reader. The machine whirred, lighting up red, and Harry gave a nod to Ed.
"Susie," Harry started. "Are you here? Can you speak to me?"
There was nothing but silence.
"My name is Harry," he began again. "And this is Ed and Maggie. Tell me, Susie – are you angry? Are you angry that we're trespassing?"
There was a loud banging noise from somewhere nearby, and Maggie squeaked with a quiet scream while Ed fumbled with the camera he almost dropped.
"Susie," Ed stuttered nervously. "Can you g-give us a sign?"
"I hear something," Maggie whispered, and Ed whipped the camera around to her. She was staring wide eyed at the door. Whispers could be heard from the other side of it.
". . .think it was here . . ." one of the voices said.
The Ghostfacers watched with wide eyes as the doorknob slowly turned.
"I'm getting it," Ed whispered, eyes the size of dinner plates. "I'm getting it all on camera."
Harry reached down and picked a can of salt up from Maggie's equipment bag, unscrewing the lid as the door slowly began to creak open.
Ed, Harry, and Maggie were suddenly blinded with light, screaming as they were faced with two other otherworldly, ghostly faces. Harry threw up the can of salt as he screamed, "BE GONE, EVIL SPIRITS!" and backed away desperately.
"What the hell?!"
As their eyes adjusted, they realized the people in front of them weren't unworldly or ghosts – it was just a couple of teenage girls. One was blonde, her hair braided back from her face on one side. The other one was a brunette who was holding a flashlight, looking confused. The blonde was spitting salt out of her mouth and rubbing it from her face, as that's where it'd just been thrown.
Harry huffed angrily. "It's just a couple of kids!" he complained.
"Who throws salt, you asshole?" the blonde snapped, rubbing her eyes. It was only then that Harry noticed the sawed off she had tucked into her jacket pocket, along with the iron crowbar in the other girl's hands.
"What are you doing here?" he demanded. "This is our turf. We were here first."
The brunette narrowed her eyes. "What?"
"There's only room for one ghost hunting crew in this building," Ed defended his friend. "You two get lost. We don't need the competition."
"What's going on down there?" a voice called from down the hall.
"A coupla douchebags with cameras," the blonde called over her shoulder, and a moment later another teenage girl, this one a redhead, appeared, also holding a flashlight.
"Great," Ed said in annoyance. "They're three teenage girls, and they have one that's British. Why don't we have someone interesting on the team?"
"Maggie is Japanese," Harry said.
"She's adopted." As Maggie glared at her brother, Ed turned back to the girls. "What are you doing here? This is no place for kids."
"We're not the ones screaming like a bunch of little girls," the redhead pointed out.
"This place is seriously haunted, you know. The second we came in here we could already hear angry voices and thumping," Harry said, trying to scare them.
"Yeah, that was me, idiot," the blonde rolled her heavily lined eyes. "I hit my head on a low doorframe."
"But . . . this place is supposed to be the most haunted place in the state!" Ed defended himself as Harry and Maggie turned to glare at him suspiciously.
"It's a load of crap, we heard the same thing," the blonde said, crossing her arms.
"Claire," the redhead started.
"Besides, what makes you qualified to handle this kinda thing?" Claire, apparently, continued. "Have you ever seen a ghost?"
"Claire," the redhead tried again.
"Hey, we're the Ghostfacers!" Ed retorted. "We're the best ghost hunting team in the United States! Maybe in the world!"
"Never heard of you," Claire shrugged one shoulder.
"Everyone shut up!" the redhead shouted, and everyone did so, looking at her in silence, the only sound the constant drip of the rain.
"Alex," the redhead said quietly. "Was it supposed to rain tonight?"
"No," the brunette, Alex, frowned. "Why? Sara, what's wrong?"
"When was the last time this building had plumbing?"
"Not since the 80s."
"Then where is that dripping coming from?"
Slowly, it dawned on them all – the sound had no source. Slowly, Sara turned, and all three girls lifted their flashlights. A large, brutish man, whose face was covered by layers of greasy hair, stood before them. He wore a hospital gown stained with red, and the sound of the dripping was from the thick layer of blood that had accumulated on the blade of the rusted machete he held.
No one moved – not the girls, not the Ghostfacers, not even the spirit lingering before them. After a moment, though, he grinned, revealing rows of rotten yellow teeth as he lifted the machete above his head.
Claire lifted the sawed off, pulling the trigger and watching the phantom disappear into a cloud of smoke and salt.
"Run," she said, cocking the shotgun, and the others scrambled to get out of the room, Harry and Ed practically climbing over the girls as they ran down the stairs. Claire brought up the rear, herding the group down the stairs. As she was about to move down the stairs herself, though, the ghost reappeared, raising a giant fist and knocking the gun out of Claire's hand. Claire backed up slowly, reaching her hand into her back pocket, fingers wrapping around cool metal.
The spirit was closing in on her, and she sneered. "Not today, ugly," she remarked, making a fist and catching the spirit with a fierce left hook, the pair of iron knuckles she wore slamming him back into a cloud of smoke. Claire mounted the banister of the stairs, sliding down it and joining the others.
"Where'd you get those?" Alex asked, glancing at the iron knuckles as Claire flexed her fingers.
"Found 'em in the Chevelle," Claire shrugged. "Must of been Bobby's. Dude knew how to hunt. Hey, Poltergeist Pals," she called, getting the attention of Harry and Ed and tossing them a canister of salt. "Found that in your bag. You know how to use it or what?"
"Obviously we know how to use it," Harry rolled his eyes and catching the canister.
"Well, are you gonna do it, or are you just gonna stand there and be ghost bait?" Claire asked sweetly, before rolling her eyes and turning to her own duffle bag. "How's the EMF?"
"Off the charts," Alex reported, using a much more sophisticated EMF reader than the ones Harry and Ed used.
"Here, let me help," Sara offered Harry, picking up a can of salt of her own and smiling kindly. Harry gave a curt nod as they began making a large circle around the others, meeting in the middle and admiring their handy work briefly.
"We just wanted to get some good footage," Harry sighed. He looked at her, puzzled. "You guys don't even have cameras. Where's all your equipment?"
Sara opened her mouth to reply, but was stopped by Alex calling for her. She smiled apologetically before joining her foster sister.
"We've got more ghosts than we can handle with this amount of civilians," Alex murmured, glancing at her tablet. She had the history of the hospital saved on there, and was looking through it again. "And there's another problem – all the patients here were cremated when they died. Less than two hundred were buried."
"Is there any record on the ones that were buried?" Claire asked.
"No. At least, none that I can find."
"What about the office?" Sara suggested. "Is there any chance the records would still be here?"
Alex hesitated. "It's a long shot. But the place was abandoned pretty quickly. They might've left them behind."
"Right, so that's where we'll check first," Sara said, and Claire gave a nod. She looked back at the Ghostfacers, rolling her eyes.
"Alright, boyscouts," she said, and they glared at her. "We're going to find the office. You stay here and don't leave the circle."
"You can't just leave us here!" Maggie complained.
"You'll be safer," Sara reasoned. "We have weapons, and protection. You stay here and make sure no kids try to sneak in."
The girls gathered their things are started up the stairs, armed with flashlights, salt rounds, and determination. The stairs creaked beneath their feet, and upstairs Sara was sure she could hear little footsteps.
They were almost to the top when Claire stepped on a rotten board. She let out a string of curses as she fell, her foot stuck in the splintered planks.
"Are you okay?" Sara demanded, carefully joining her.
"Fine," Claire grimaced. "Just stuck. Help me outta here."
Alex leaned down, pulling away some of the boards that were soft enough to break away. When she had made a hole large enough to remove Claire's foot, she gently took Claire's leg in her hand and pulled.
Claire cursed again, gasping. "Shit," she breathed, gritting her teeth.
"Is it broken?" Sara asked, eyes wide with worry.
"No," Claire said through a clenched jaw. "Just twisted is all, I think. Just give me a sec . . ." after a moment she pulled herself up, leaning against the banister, and gingerly tested her weight on her ankle. Her knee shook and gave out, and Sara caught her.
"Dammit!" Claire snapped.
"You must have broken it," Alex said. "Let's get you out of here, we can come back tomorrow –"
"Tomorrow might be too late, if any other kids show up here," Claire argued. She huffed. "Leave me with Egon and Ray down there. You two get to the office, get the records, and come straight back."
Sara and Alex hesitated, not scared for their safety but for Claire's well being, and helped her down the stairs.
"She hurt her ankle," Sara explained to the others, helping Claire to sit on the ground. "Watch out for her – Alex and I are going back up."
"Wait!" Harry said, moving towards them. "Ed and I can help you. We've got the entire layout of the place memorized, we know the quickest way to get you there and back." He hesitated. "Besides," he added. "This isn't the first time we've done this."
Sara raised her eyebrows, looking at Alex, who shrugged.
"Alright," Sara said. "But stay close."
Ed and Harry glanced at the rest of the Ghostfacers – and a sneering Claire – and tried to give them brave, reassuring looks, even though Harry was secretly on the verge of panic. He and Ed exchanged a solemn nod before following Sara and Alex up the stairs, carefully.
"How are your super powers against ghosts?" Alex murmured to Sara, sweeping her flashlight back and forth in front of her to avoid rats and rotten floorboards.
"Dunno," Sara replied, her own flashlight pointed upwards. "Never tried it."
"Might get to tonight."
"I know." Sara looked at Alex and grinned. "Exciting, isn't it?"
Alex rolled her eyes but grinned nonetheless, and Ed and Harry exchanged confused shrugs.
Meanwhile, downstairs the rest of the Ghostfacers were arguing.
"We can't leave!" Maggie was angrily telling Travis and AJ, who were packing up their equipment. "This is the best case we've ever been on!"
"The other cases we went on had floaty orbs and over exaggerated EVP," Travis retorted, shoving his tripod into its carrying case as AJ nodded in agreement. "Not huge knife-wielding psychopaths."
"If you two walk out that door," Maggie raised her voice as they finished packing up. "Consider yourself off the team."
"Fine by me," AJ shrugged. "My uncle said I could have a job at his used car lot. C'mon, Travis, maybe he can find something for you, too."
They stepped outside the salt circle, heading for the door while Maggie looked conflicted. However, as they approached the door, it slammed shut, locking. Travis and AJ pulled at it, kicking it a few times. They looked at each other nervously before they scrambled back to the salt circle.
Claire snorted and rolled her eyes.
"Great, now we're stuck!" Travis complained, voice borderline hysterical.
"This is all your fault, Maggie," AJ accused her harshly. "You were the one that said we should all do the reunion show!"
"Everyone shut up!" Claire snapped. "Don't you hear that?"
As their voices died, it could be plainly heard – footsteps creaking on the floor. And they were coming closer. Shakily, Maggie lifted her flashlight, the beam of light flickering long enough to reveal their breath in the air as the room grew steadily colder. Then the light went out completely.
"Is everyone in the circle?" Claire asked quietly, relieved when she heard murmurs of agreement. One set of footsteps became two, two became three, until Claire was sure they were surrounded. The hair on the back of her neck stood up and she suppressed a shiver, fondling the trigger of the shotgun. Raspy, rattling breathing could be heard to the left of her, and Claire swung the barrel of the sawed off around, firing a shot.
The salt round tore right through the opaque body of a long dead patient, and in the brief flash of sparks from its dissipation Claire could see three other ghosts, trying to work their way into the circle. She couldn't tell if their moans and sharp, guttural noises were threats – or a desperate plea for help.
Either way, she wasn't going to get chatty and find out. Wrapping her hand around the handle of a crowbar, she slashed it through the air, causing another spirit to disappear in a shower of smoke and sparks. She fired off a few more shots blindly, trying to steady her breathing as silence fell over the room.
A heavy hand fell on her shoulder, and eyes wide, Claire spun around, dropping the gun and cursing and attacking with her fists.
The assailant grunted in pain as her fist connected solidly, and seized her wrists. "Would you cut it out?" they hissed.
Claire was practically panting from adrenaline, eyes wide. "Gavin?"
Grimacing, he switched on a maglight, rubbing his shoulder gingerly and glaring at Claire accusingly.
Claire sighed in relief. "I thought you were a ghost, dummy!" she said, hitting him in the other shoulder, though softer this time. "What are you doing here? I told you we were handling it!"
"Every time you three try to 'handle' something the world almost ends," he said, setting the light down in the middle of the circle so everyone could see. In the dim light, Claire was able to see his face clearly, and frowned at the large, flowering bruise on his cheek and the shallow cut above his left eye.
"What happened?" she asked, her tone sounding more accusatory than concerned.
His jaw was set in a straight line, and he didn't meet her eyes. "Nothing. I fell."
"Into someone's fist?"
"Claire." He gave her a look, and she arched an eyebrow. Oh, they'd so be discussing it later.
"How'd you even get in here?" Claire huffed, looking around. All the doors and windows were still firmly closed, and Gavin pointed up.
"Hole in the attic," he told her. "This place is crawling with EMF."
"We know," everyone replied in unison, and Gavin frowned, seemingly just now noticing the others.
"Who are they?"
"Morons," Claire said, earning several glares from the others.
"Right. And you're with them, because . . .?"
"I think I broke my stupid ankle," she grumbled, rubbing the sore spot. The pain was still throbbing, and she could probably force herself to run if need be, but she still wouldn't be able to move very quickly.
Gavin looked concerned, but quickly frowned, looking around as though he'd lost something. "Oh, where did that bloke go?"
"What bloke?"
"Ben."
"You brought Ben?!"
Gavin looked offended that Claire would think he'd do such a thing. "Of course not. He followed you here, same as me. We just happened to be breaking in at the same time. Good lad, him. I almost knocked him out when I saw him creeping about but then he told me who he was and he did have a gun, so –"
Claire gave an angry grunt of frustration. "Go find him, you lunatic! He has no idea what he's doing!"
"Oi, tell that to his gun!"
"Go!"
"This is so much better than the film we got in New Orleans in '09." Ed was giddy as he swung his camera from side to side, trying to catch anything and everything creepy or paranormal.
"Actual full spectral forms with no special effects or anything!" Harry agreed, swinging his flashlight in a trail behind the camera.
Alex and Sara exchanged eye rolls.
"How'd you guys get started with this anyway?" Harry asked, and Ed turned the camera on the girls. "You're about the same age we were when we started."
"It's a family thing," Alex hushed him. "Put the cameras down, you're practically begging for attention from things we don't want attention from."
"Are you sure this is the right way?" Sara demanded as they passed a broken pillar that looked familiar.
"We . . . may have taken a detour for some extra footage," Ed admitted, and the girls stopped, turning to glare at them.
Sara stepped toward Harry, and despite her age was already much taller than him. She glared down at him. "Look, I don't know what you people like to do in your spare time, but for us, this is an in-and-out job. So put us in the right direction, or so help me, I'll make you one of those ghosts you're so fond of."
"Whoa," Harry breathed. "That was terrifying. Ed, did you get all that? Talk about drama!"
"I got it," Ed said, nodding from behind his camera.
Sara slapped the camera out of his hand. "Hey!" Ed squeaked, swooping and picking it up.
"Shh!" Alex hissed.
"Tell her, she hit my camera –!"
"Seriously, shut up," Alex said, holding her hand up. "Listen."
Quietly, everyone listened as an ominous whistling came from down the long, dark hallway before them. Sara and Alex exchanged glances, and Alex lifted her gun as Sara slid around the corner, leaning against the wall as the whistling grew closer. Wanting an advantage, and knowing Sara's senses would be enough, Alex cut the lights and waited patiently as the whistling came closer.
Sara could hear the footsteps grow close, and knew that whatever it was following them was nearly upon her. With a deep breath, she struck out, wrapping her hand around the throat of their stalker. She lifted them off the ground with ease, slamming them into the wall and pinning them there as they struggled against her. Alex immediately pointed her gun in the face of the intruder and Harry flipped on a flashlight.
Sara's eyes widened in surprise. "Ben?"
"Hey, Red," he coughed, still pinned to the wall above them by Sara's hand. "Little help?"
Sara released him, grabbing his shoulder as he rubbed his throat, taking a few deep breaths.
"I'm so sorry, I didn't realize –" she began, but Ben was chuckled, pushing himself up. He grinned.
"Love a girl who's stronger than me," he winked, and Sara rolled her eyes, relieved he was unharmed but annoyed he was here.
"What are you doing here?"
"You lifted that guy off the ground!" Ed was screaming.
"How did you do that?" Harry was demanding.
"Ah . . . pilates?" Sara suggested, helping Ben up. She looked at him, shaking her head. "Seriously, what're you doing here?"
"What, you said you were checking out some abandoned asylum in Idaho," Ben shrugged. "Not a lot of those, it was easy to figure out which one it was."
"And you thought going around whistling would be safe?" Alex demanded.
"It was a coping thing! This place is creepy as hell." He gave Sara a lopsided grin. "It's kinda cool, though. And look." He waved his sawed off. "Brought my own gun."
"How'd you even get in here?" Alex frowned.
"Easy, just followed Gavin."
"Gavin?"
"There you are." Sara wasn't even as surprised as she should have been as her brother suddenly jogged up to them, out of breath. "I've been looking all over this damn place," Gavin huffed, standing straight and giving Ben a nod. "Glad you're still in one piece."
"I knew it!" Harry suddenly exclaimed. "I knew it – you are a ghost hunting team! You've had a whole team this whole time! You're just trying to throw us off so that you guys can take the best spots in the asylum! Well, I don't care if your team is more badass or made up of cool international students or hotter than we are! We've got experience on our side!"
"Hotter?" Ed asked, looking hurt.
Gavin jerked a thumb at them. "Who're these arseholes?"
"It's so not important," Alex interjected. "Can we please just get to the office and find those files? This place smells, and it's freezing, and I want to get home before next week. So get a move on!"
"She's scary when she's bossy," Ben muttered to Sara as they continued through the asylum, and Sara stifled a grin. Moving as a large group felt safer, but Sara also was suddenly consumed with worry. Ben have never been on a hunt before, and this place was crawling with ghosts – she grimaced as Alex exploded an inmate with a salt round and Gavin slammed another in the head with a crowbar, all while Ed and Harry screamed like girls.
"Hey," Alex said, nudging Sara after a moment and pointing at the end of a hallway. There was an ancient door with a grimy, frosted window with the word "office" in peeling paint across it. It also had a barred door pulled down over it.
"How are we supposed to get through that?" Harry whispered, glancing at the barred door. Ed approached and examined it.
"I got it," he said, nodding. "I'm going to need a pair of pliers, a bit of C4, and a welding gun . . ."
"Sara?" Gavin requested, watching their backs.
She pushed Ed aside, examining the bars and grabbing hold on either side. With one strong yank, the bars were pulled from the wall, leaving a gap of stone and wooden debris where they'd once been attached the wall. She leaned the bars against the wall, grabbed the door handle, and crushed it. The door swung open.
Everyone was quiet for a few long moments.
"What kind of pilates did you say those were again?" Ed asked quietly.
Sara gave him a small smile before pushing the door open further. Everyone flipped on their flashlights.
The office was old, worn, but mostly intact. Covered in thick layers of dust and smelling of rotten furniture, it looked similar to how it would have been left – there was still a coat hanging on a rack, thought it was holy and discolored, and several large filing cabinets. With little finagling from Gavin, the cabinet opened. Gavin held the flashlight as Alex leafed through the remaining files.
"Here's the files on the deceased patients," Alex said, lifting a large, heavy stack of folders onto the desk.
"Great," Sara said, watching the door. "See if there's anything about a knife-wielding maniac."
"We're still trapped in here," Harry reminded her. "What are we supposed to do even if we do find out who the ghost is? How do we get rid of him?"
"With any luck he'll be buried in the hospital's cemetery," Alex said without looking up from the files. "If we can get someone outside we can torch him."
An eerie silence settled over the group, the only noise the sound of pages turning as Alex searched through the files. Sara moved towards the barred window. The cemetery laid directly below them – there were dozens of graves, stones of all shapes and sizes spread across the overgrown grounds. She swung her flashlight around, the unnatural stillness of the place making her uneasy. She frowned as something on the wall gleamed in the beam of her light – an ancient, ornate frame, she realized, holding the degree of one Dr. James Kramer. Frames displaying awards and certificates were displayed, as well as photos of Dr. Kramer with his patients. In one photo, he played chess with a wheelchair bound man with scars across his face. In another, Kramer was offering a teddy bear to a little girl getting a check up. In yet another, Kramer sat at the bedside of a sickly old woman. Both were laughing, and Kramer had a book in his hand, as though he were reading to her.
"Whoever our ghost is, I don't think we'll find the vengeful spirit of the Doctor here," Sara mentioned.
"Kramer?" Harry asked, double checking the salt lines in the room. "Doubtful. These patients were his life. Even after the riots that eventually helped shut the place down."
"Let's hear more about this riot," Ben said, joining Sara to look over the photos and certificates. "The big one."
"It's your standard uprising against authority," Harry shrugged. "Back then, a lot of the patients here were actually just criminals who were being treated for insanity. Eventually there were more of them than there was actually sick people. A group of the real rowdy ones attacked other patients and staff. There was upward of – what? Fifty deaths?"
"All together," Ed confirmed, looking nervous to be talking about such a touchy subject in this particular place. "Almost forty patients were killed; mostly innocent, crazy folk who got caught up in the crowd. A little girl who was trying to get away got thrown down the stairs and died. It took almost four days to take the hospital back." He nodded at the photos on the wall. "That head doctor guy, Kramer? His daughter was one of the nurses here that was killed. Still didn't give up on those patients. 'Til it got shut down in '77, anyway."
Sara was only half attentive to what Harry was saying as she found one last photo, sitting on top of the filing cabinet. Frowning, Sara picked it up. It was a group photo of thirty or so people. Most were in some sort of medical attire – men in white lab coats and women in nurses uniforms. A few groundskeepers stood in the back. Sara's frown deepened as she squinted, finding one of the faces in the back eerily familiar . . .
"Alex," Sara said, not taking her eyes off the photo. "Try checking the employees file."
After a moment of digging around, Alex pulled a stack of folders out of the cabinet, laying them on the desk. Sara joined her, shuffling through the files before pulling one aside from the others, opening it wide enough for everyone to see. She tapped the photograph in the file. "There."
The photo, old and faded, showed a large man with long, dark hair slicked back off his face. He didn't smile for the staff photo, like the other members of the staff, but glowered at the camera instead.
"Gotcha," Sara murmured.
"That's our man," Alex agreed, reading over the file. "Gene Marko. Worked as grounds keeper here from 1938 to his death in 1953." She glanced up at the others. "Killed in the riot."
"Why would a groundskeeper haunt the place he worked?" Gavin frowned. "Why not his own home?"
"This was his home – even before he was an employee, he was a patient," Alex frowned, continuing to read. "He was dropped off as a baby and grew up here. There's a whole psych analysis here on him. Mute, violent tendencies, occasional outbursts. Never hurt any of the patients, though – he was protective of them, almost to the point of obsession. They gave him a job when he was old enough to work. He was murdered during the riot while trying to help reclaim the hospital."
"It would explain his hatred for trespassers," Sara realized.
"All of the people who have gone missing over the years were all on the property illegally," Ed added.
"He might've seen them as threats," Ben agreed.
"The same way he sees us," Alex pointed out. "There are a lot of trapped spirits here – but maybe they're being forced to stay here."
"Marko's protective," Sara said slowly, coming to the same conclusion. "He's still trying to protect the patients. No one gets in . . ."
"No one gets out," Gavin finished grimly.
There was a scream from downstairs, and Gavin's eyes widened. "Claire!" he shouted, shoving past Harry and Ed and running from the room. Quickly gathering their items, the others followed. Sara glanced at Ben to make sure he was keeping up; with her keen vision, even in the dark she could see him wink at her; he was enjoying the thrill. Sara rolled her eyes, annoyed because she was, too.
They arrived back downstairs to find the rest of the Ghostfacers cowering. Claire was holding a shotgun, glowering at them as she brushed her jacket off.
"What happened?" Gavin demanded, looking her up and down for injuries. "We heard you scream."
Claire snorted, jerking her thumb at Travis. "Wasn't me. Nancy Drew here freaked out when Fergus started chasing rats."
With a loud bark at his name, the sound of nails scrambling across wood emerged from the shadows, the large, pitch black hound running towards them, red eyes blazing and a bloody, dead rat in his mouth.
Sara gave a little gasp of relief, bending down as the dog slowed to a trot as he approached her. "There you are, you silly boy," she cooed, and the demonic dog wagged his stub of a tail happily as she fondled his ears. "You naughty boy, running off like that, you scared me!"
Gavin frowned, shining the light over Fergus. "Is he wearing a pink collar?" he demanded.
"It's his favorite color," Sara said defensively.
"It's your favorite color," Gavin retorted. "It makes him look like a sissy."
Sara gasped and covered Fergus's ears, glaring at Gavin. "Don't you dare tell me how to raise my child."
"Great," Harry said, annoyed. "They even have a dog. We're local cable ghost chasers, and they're IRL Scooby-Doo."
"You think that thing is a dog?!" Travis demanded, still looking horrified. Sara shot him an offended glare before turning back to the hound.
"Did you find anything good?" Sara asked, stroking the dog's soft head.
Fergus made a deep rumbling in his throat, and tossed the rat up in the air before capturing it once again in his deadly, powerful jaws. The sound of flesh ripping and bones crunching turned a few stomachs as Fergus swallowed his prize in a few bites. Licking the blood from his lips, he turned and started back into the shadows.
"He has found something," Sara said in surprise. She glanced at her friends, shrugging. "Could be a way out."
"Or another rats nest," Claire muttered, following at a slight limp, her ankle still giving her trouble.
"You're actually following it?" Ed demanded.
"We've got ammo, weapons out the ass, several hunters, and a hell hound," Alex called over her shoulder. "We'll be fine."
"Hell hound?" AJ asked quietly, following, while Harry and Ed were looking at each other with realization. They groaned.
"Hunters!" Harry complained, following the group. "We shoulda known it was hunters! Just like those other two assholes."
"Gee, wonder who they're talking about," Sara muttered to Alex, who laughed.
Gavin fell behind the group with Claire, taking her hand. "Hey," he said, getting her attention. "Wait a moment."
"We don't have time to fool around," Claire chastised him. Then she frowned, checked her watch, and shrugged. "Well, we've probably got a few minutes . . ."
"No," Gavin said, shaking his head. "Here. Sit down." He made her to sit on a table and he leaned down, sliding Claire's Converse off and examining her ankle in the dim light of the flashlight.
"It's fine," Claire tried to shrug it off. "I just need to walk it off."
"It's broken, Claire."
"Only a little," she argued. "C'mon, we're going to lose the others." She frowned, though, as she noticed that Gavin was cradling her ankle in his hands, murmuring under his breath. "Gavin?" She noticed his grip increase slightly as what looked like a tremble went through his body. Claire's eyes widened. "Gavin, you're scaring me."
"I'm okay," he replied quietly, taking a deep breath and looking up at her. He almost looked pained, as though whatever he'd just been doing had hurt him, but he smiled. After a moment of awkward silence, he slid her shoe back on, standing. "There," he said, leaning forward and kissing Claire's forehead. "Try standing now."
Hesitantly, Claire did so, shocked to find all pain and discomfort from her injury gone. "Gavin, that was amazing! How did you . . ." when she realized, though, she frowned, looking up at him. She lowered her voice. "You're not supposed to use magic. So you don't end up like . . ."
"For you, it's worth it," Gavin replied, laying his hand on her hair for a moment. Claire turned bright red, and Gavin gave a weak smile. "C'mon. Now we can catch up with the others."
The others weren't too far ahead, pausing every time Fergus rose his head into the air or growled. The ghosts drifting around the building didn't seem interested in coming anywhere near a hellhound, so the spirits kept their distance, though they could still feel a pair of angry cold eyes on them, watching and waiting. When Gavin and Claire caught up, they found the others watching as Fergus scratched at the bottom of a wall.
Ben squatted down, running his hands over the wall. "I think it's a crawl space," he said, getting enough light from the flashlights to find the latch. The door swung open slightly, and Ben swept his flashlight back and forth. "Probably used for storage back in the day, but usually there was some sort of drain leading outside. Might be our ticket outta here."
"A bit of a drop, but it's our best chance." Gavin frowned, looking around. "Who's the smallest?"
Sara huffed as she instantly felt several pairs of eyes on her and Alex. They looked at each other, trying to decide who should go without having to argue about it. Alex held out her fist, and Sara did the same. On three, they both threw – Alex threw scissors, and Sara threw paper. Sara cursed. "Fine!" she scoffed, pulling her hair into a ponytail to keep the cobwebs out of it. Ben took her forearms and helped lower her down as far as he could; then she dropped the extra few feet, and looked around nervously.
"It smells down here!" she complained.
"Do you see anything?" Gavin called.
"No, nothing – wait, yes! I see something metal up ahead! It could be the drain." She pulled her coat around her closer. "I'm going in for a closer look."
"Be careful," Gavin called, and Sara began her trek across the musty space. She could clearly see the drain now – it was small, but she could probably work her way through it. She frowned as her flashlight flickered, plunging her into darkness, and she tripped over something.
"Sara?" Ben called.
"I'm fine," she called back, sitting up and rubbing her sore buttocks. "I just tripped over something." She hit her flashlight a few times, and the beam of light reappeared, exposing what it was Sara had tripped over – a decomposed corpse. She stifled a scream, gasping and dropping her flashlight as she scrambled backwards.
"Sara?!" Ben called again. Sara scrambled to pick up her flashlight only for it to land to yet another cadaver, this one much older looking.
"Oh, God," Sara whispered, noticing another body, and another behind it. There were several, all throughout the crawl space, some older than others, but all equally disturbing.
She could hear footsteps behind her as Alex and Claire lowered themselves into the crawl space, running towards her. Alex slid to a stop, eyes wide, and Claire looked disgusted.
"Well," Claire called, holding her shirt over her nose. "I think we just found the missing trespassers."
"Get it on film – get it on film!" Harry was hissing, scrambling into the crawl space with Ed, rushing to capture the scene on camera. Harry's eyes were wide. "Oh my God. This is huge. We're gonna be huge. Discovery channel huge!"
With a gust of air, the door of the crawlspace slammed. Spinning around, the girls rushed back, standing below where they'd been lowered in.
"Gavin?" Claire called.
"It won't open!" came his reply, straining to yank the door open. They could her Ben and the other Ghostfacers desperately trying to pull the door open, and Sara looked around in a panic as she saw the ghost of Gene Marko angrily flickering, coming towards them. Weapons back in the room with the boys and at their last resort, Sara stood up. She blinked, her eyes turning crimson.
"Don't come any closer," she warned.
Marko slowed, obviously hesitant at the power play. Spirits were powerful on their own, but demons? Most forces didn't reckon with them.
When he took a few more cautious steps, Sara charged the air around them with a thick layer of forceful power. The flashlights went out, plunging them into darkness as the bulbs exploded. Sara herself could still see, and when Marko took a tentative step towards her, she lashed out. Darkness radiated from her as it engulfed the spirit, pulling at his power and energy, and Sara wondered briefly if she were able to kill someone who was already dead. Marko, picking his battles, disappeared, severing his connection with Sara.
Sara sighed heavily after a few moments of silent tension, blood roaring in her ears from the added power. Her eyes returned to normal as she faced the others. "I can only keep him at bay for so long," she told them. She raised her voice. "Gavin, Ben – find a way out! Fergus can help you. I've weakened the ghost for a bit but you'll have to act fast!"
"Find Marko's grave, burn the body," Alex added.
"Take the cast of Ghost Whisperer with you!" Claire added. "Five people digging is faster than two!"
"We'll be back, I promise!" Gavin swore. Their retreating footsteps could be heard as they made their way down the hall.
"We're gonna die," Harry whispered, on the verge of hysterics. "We're gonna die in a crawl space. Christ, I feel like a Gacy victim."
"Is that in bad taste?" Sara frowned.
"Who cares?!" Harry demanded. "We're gonna die!"
"We're not, so long as you shut up," Claire snapped. "Now be quiet; I hear something."
"He's behind us," Alex whispered. "I can see him – barely. He's too scared to come closer."
"For now," Sara whispered. She held out her hands, closing her eyes. "Is he still watching, Alex?"
"Yes."
"Alright." Sara took a deep breath. "Ignium," she murmured, and flames leapt to life in her hands. Marko's spirit disappeared with an angry snarl, and Sara smiled down at the small fire cradled in her palms. Ed gave out a girlish scream and Harry scrambled backwards.
"You're getting good at that," Alex remarked as Sara laid the small fire between them; it was just enough to give them some light and warmth, and so long as its creator was nearby, it would stay ignited. Sara looked pleased at Alex's compliment.
"Thanks," she said, warming her hands. "I've been practicing. Have you tried it?"
"Few times," Alex shrugged. "I could never get past a few sparks. Claire tried it but she almost burned down the bunker." Claire shrugged, poking the fire with a small twig.
Harry and Ed were clutching each other, watching the girls in horror. "Who are you?" Ed demanded.
The girls looked at each other, amused.
"It's a long story," Alex finally said.
As they waited for several long moments in silence, Sara occasionally listening closely to something, or sometimes her eyes turning red briefly, time seemed to slow down. It felt like hours since they'd sent the others out, but in reality it had been less than a half an hour. Desperate for someone to say something – anything – Claire glanced at Alex.
"You still haven't told us how things went with your dad," she reminded her foster sister. Alex held her knees against her chest, staring into the fire.
"She's right," Sara admitted. "You just said 'good' and that was it. What happened?"
Alex took a deep breath, staring off into space. She smiled a little. "It was . . . great. Yeah. Great."
"Really?" Sara asked, relief evident on her face. Alex nodded.
"He was ecstatic to see me," she admitted. "He never gave up hope, and said that . . . that he knew I'd come back to him. He's a doctor now. He has a nice wife, and stepsons. I have a little sister."
"Alex, that's wonderful," Sara said, laying a hand on her sister's arm.
"Yeah, for real," Claire said, scooting closer. "Did you tell him about . . . you know?"
"No," Alex said, shaking her head. "I told him that I can't remember what happened to me. That things are blurred until Jody. I think he knows there's more to it but he's not pushing. He and Jody talked on the phone last night. He's really grateful to her. Kept trying to repay her somehow. I – I told him that I was going to continue to live with Jody, and he was okay with that. He's planning on visiting a lot."
"I'm so happy for you," Sara said, and she genuinely was. "You've got your family back."
"I've got my real family right here," Alex replied, linking hands with Claire and Sara. "You guys are the ones I can come to with – well, with everything. Even crazy stuff."
"No secrets in this clique," Claire grinned, and Sara suddenly felt very guilty.
She swallowed. It's now or never, she told herself. You're either going to suffocate in here and die a liar, or you can just tell the truth now and rip it off like a band aid.
"You guys," Sara said, staring at the fire. "I have to tell you something."
Alex and Claire looked at each other, hesitant; had they known something like this was coming? Sara pushed the thought to the back of her mind as she continued. "I helped Kelly Kline get away from Castiel." As she said the words, the burden of the lie was lifted off her chest, but replaced with a heavy sense of guilt. She dared not look her sisters in the eye for fear of what they'd say. She prepared for the worst, which is why she was so surprised when Alex squeezed her hand.
Alex and Claire glanced at each other again. "We know," Claire finally admitted, and Sara was taken aback, eyes wide as she looked from Alex to Claire.
"You know . . . how?"
"Because it's what we would have done," Alex said. "We don't blame you, Sara."
"Really," Claire promised. "We would have done the same thing."
Sara felt hot tears prick at her eyes; she blinked them away quickly, trying to keep her composure. This whole time, they knew – they weren't angry at what she'd done, or that she'd lied. They were still the same supportive people they'd always been. The same ones that had taken Sara in and treated her as an equal, as a friend.
Sara hesitated. You're already on the roll now.
"There's . . . something else," she began weakly. Now, Alex and Claire did frown, moving in closer as they had no idea what else there possibly could be. Even Ed and Harry were invested, leaning closer and listening intently.
Sara bit her lip. "I've sorta been in charge of Hell for a while."
"What?" Claire demanded.
"You've been in charge of –?" Alex started, trying to comprehend.
"Like, Hell, Hell?" Claire asked, eyebrows arched. "Hot and steamy, full of bad guys and demons? That Hell?"
"How long is a while?" Alex demanded, and Sara hesitated at the bombardment of questions.
"Um . . . since Asa's funeral."
"That long?!"
"You're crazy," Ed said faintly, unable to comprehend the situation. "You're all crazy. This is crazy. I'm crazy. Is this even real? Is this real life?!"
"Ed!" Harry shook him. "Snap out of it! Freak out later."
"He's right; we need to concentrate on what we're going to do," Alex said, glancing at her watch. Every minute that went by was minute too long, and she was starting to worry about the boys. "Sara, can you . . . do that thing," she said, glancing at the already freaked out Ed before looking back to Sara. "To get out of here?"
"No," Sara said, shaking her head. "If I leave there's nothing from keeping our ghost friend from coming back for you guys." She glanced towards the drain, standing. Her eyesight adjusted as she moved farther into the dark, finding the drain and giving it a tug. It gave in easy enough, but Sara sighed and stood again, returning to her friends.
"Drain's a bust," she said, sitting back down. "Even if we could all fit through it, it's so packed with dirt and rocks it would take ages to dig out."
"So what are we gonna do?" Ed demanded, though it came out as more of a squeak.
Sara shrugged. "Wait. And hope the boys don't run into any trouble."
The boys ran into all the trouble.
Getting out of the asylum was easy enough, with Marko distracted and weakened and Fergus's strong claws to tear through a weakened piece of plywood that had been used to patch a hole in one of the walls. But once they were out, Maggie, AJ, and Travis cowering behind Gavin and Ben, they had to actually find Marko's grave.
"Alright," Gavin said, turning to them and leaning his gun on his shoulder. "We'll split up. Ben and I will search the cemetery for the grave. You three, go to my truck; it's parked round front. There are some shovels in the cab. Chances are good you'll find some more in Claire's car – it's the blue Chevelle."
"You want us to go out there?" Maggie demanded. "By ourselves? There's a maniac killer ghost out there!"
"Sorry, did you want to be the one looking for the maniac killer ghost's grave?" Ben asked. "I'm sure he'd be thrilled to find someone looking to desecrate his resting place."
Maggie was quiet, and AJ whispered, "Shovels are fine."
Gavin nodded, glancing at the hell hound at their heels. "Fergus, go with them," he ordered, and the hound reluctantly complied, following the huddled little group as they headed for the front of the hospital.
"Hope they come back," Ben mentioned.
"They don't have any other choice," Gavin said, swinging something around on his finger. Ben grinned when he realized it was the keys to the Ghostfacers van.
"Alright, I'll go North, you go South," Gavin said, reloading his shotgun with salt. Ben grunted in response and started towards the other side of the cemetery, swinging his flashlight back and forth. He wondered how many thousands of people who died here didn't get a grave – kinda sucked, when thinking about it. To live in a hospital and then die, no one caring enough to even give you a grave. No one cares when you're crazy, though, he supposed. He remembered the way his mother was treated when she started having her episodes; her friends stopped hanging out with her, and her coworkers whispered about her behind her back. The only person who would listen was her psychiatrist, and even he didn't have any explanation for the holes in her memories, or why a certain scent of sound was cause her to break down into tears, or why she was suddenly so paranoid, checking the locks repeatedly in one night and not going to sleep until all the alarms were set.
Seeing the way his mother was treated was the reason Ben kept his own problems to himself. Something was missing from his brain, he was sure of it. Hobbies he didn't remember picking up and stories that didn't have an origin. He passed the occasional night terror off as eating too much crap food before bed.
Though, they didn't explain why he'd started having the nightmare again.
It was always the same one, but things were blurred and slow almost like he was underwater. In his dream he was just a kid. He'd get flashes; people in suits, he thought. Trying to jump out his window. Then someplace dark. His heart was racing, but he wasn't scared. Someone was there with him that made him feel safe, though Ben had no idea who it was, or what they looked like, or even how they sounded. But then something would happen – something to his mom, and there would be blood, and screaming, and then a bright white light.
That's where Ben always woke up. That bright flash of light, and an annoying sense of déjà vu.
He was pulled from his thoughts as he approached a tiny little grave, with an angel etched onto it. He could see something gleaming white behind it; as he approached, his heart sped up as he realized it was a little girl, dressed in a hospital gown and clutching a teddy bear. Ben stopped moving as she stared at him. She blinked, non-threateningly, before glancing behind Ben.
Ben didn't have to turn around to know who was coming across the cemetery. He quickly ducked behind a large headstone, holding his breath as Marko's heavy footsteps came closer. The little girl looked at Ben, and he wondered if she'd give away his hiding space. He started to cock his sawed off, but the little girl raised her finger to her lips, shushing Ben. Frowning, Ben watched her dart out from behind her grave stone, running towards and then past Marko towards the front of the hospital. Marko watched her, before frowning and following after, unwilling to let any of the patients leave their resting place.
When he was far enough away, Ben released the breath he'd been holding and pushed himself to his feet. He made sure the spirits were gone, and began to continue his search when he heard Gavin calling from somewhere across the graveyard.
Ben caught up with him, out of breath from jogging and dodging around gravestones. Gavin was standing by a short, secluded stone.
"Did you find it?" Ben huffed, bending over to catch his breath.
"Aye," Gavin agreed, removing his jacket. "And just in time," he added, watching the group of flashlights coming across the cemetery, Fergus in the lead.
There had been plenty of shovels for each of them, and they'd brought along a can of gasoline they'd found as well. As they began to dig, Gavin and Ben took turns guarding the others – no doubt Marko would know what was going on. Gavin leaned against the gravestone, gun loaded and safety off. He watched the graveyard wearily, occasionally catching an orb of light floating by or seeing something move out of the corner of his eye.
"I hope these spirits are freed when Marko goes," he said. "I'll eat my boot before I spend the night digging up each and every one of these graves."
"Still better than calculus homework," Ben grunted, heaving a shovel full of dirt out of the hole.
"Why'd you follow the girls here, Ben?" Gavin asked curiously, scratching at his stubble. "Entirely noble intentions, I take it?"
"Mostly I just wanted to see what it was all about," Ben replied, taking a break and leaning against his shovel. "Been reading about this sorta stuff for years. Meeting the girls made it all the more interesting." He shrugged, continuing to dig. "I dunno, man. Just felt like something was missing from my life, is all."
"And that something wouldn't happen to be my sister, would it?"
Again, Ben shrugged. "Ya never know," he replied. "But in all honesty . . ." he exhaled heavily as he threw a large rock out of the pit. "She's miles outta my league and ten times smarter. All of them are. But she's got a lot of the world figured out already. She's kinda the whole package. She's funny, she's brilliant, she could beat the hell outta me . . ." he grinned, wiping the sweat from his forehead. "And damn, she's hot."
"Oi, watch it," Gavin warned.
"What? You're pretty too," Ben retorted.
"I think I've found something," Travis said, and Ben hit the ground with his shovel. Hearing a hollow echo, he helped the others out of the hole. Ben scuffed some dirt aside, finding the casket, and Gavin handed him a crowbar.
Ben jammed the crowbar under the lid, and started pulling.
"Hurry it up, lad, something's happening," Gavin warned, readying his weapon as the air crackled with static energy.
"Workin' on it," Ben grumbled, pulling harder.
Maggie cried out in surprise and Gavin spun around towards her; Marko knocked him back with a backhanded smack. AJ and Travis were screaming, Maggie was stunned, and Fergus was growling and trying to snap at Marko, who kept appearing and reappearing to keep the hound off his trail.
"Ben!" Gavin warned, attempting to scramble to his feet and grab his gun; Marko picked the weapon up and tossed it away, but Gavin was able to disarm Marko as well. Angry, the ghost grabbed Gavin by the neck and began swinging him around like a ragdoll, slamming him against a tree. Marko put both his massive hands around Gavin's neck, squeezing. "Today, Ben!" Gavin choked, struggling to get free.
"What, you in a hurry or something?" Ben called, finally jimmying the coffin open and scrambling out of the hole. He doused the body in the gasoline, tossing a heavy coating of salt after it, and struggled to get the matches out. Fergus, meanwhile, had sunk his teeth into Marko's ass, and was attempting to tear it from the ghost as Gavin attempted to kick the spirit away. Travis and AJ were screaming and running around in circles. It was like something out of a carnival, if carnivals had hell hounds and ghosts and took place in a graveyard behind a haunted asylum.
Ben cursed as he struck several matches against the side of the matchbox repeatedly, becoming frustrated when none would light. "Where did you get these matches?" he demanded, still trying to light them.
"They're – ugh! – they're great value brand, they were on sale!" Gavin defended his matchstick choices, still trying to get free.
"Who the hell buys great value matches?!" Ben finally got one lit, and could have cheered in victory. He looked up at the massive spirit. "Hey, ugly!"
Marko turned, eyes widening with fear as he realized what was happening. Ben grinned, dropping the match. "Yippy-ki-yay mother–"
The rest of his words were drowned out as the gasoline soaked body was engulfed in a whoosh of flames. Marko looked horrified, and angry. He dropped Gavin, grabbing Fergus by the scruff and throwing him several feet away. Then Marko turned and charged at Ben.
Ben raised his gun, preparing for a fight, when Marko suddenly caught fire. He looked down at himself as he began to burn away, screaming as he fell to his knees and disintegrated into a pile of soot and ash.
Ben helped Gavin up, the older boy limping slightly as they moved towards the grave, watching it burn. Gavin looked at Ben, raising an eyebrow. "Die Hard? Really?"
"Shut up, it was awesome," Ben replied without looking away from his handiwork. Fergus was shaking himself off a few feet away. Travis and AJ were helping Maggie up, and the girl looked around nervously.
"Guys . . . look," she said.
Ben and Gavin turned, watching as dozens of ghosts appeared, all looking around, some in awe, some in fear. The little girl Ben had seen earlier appeared not far from him. She smiled and waved, and Ben smiled back, giving her a little wave with a nod as the spirits began to look upwards, shifting from translucent figures of their former selves to wisps of light that disappeared into the sky, heaven bound. Gavin and Ben watched with slight smiles on their faces before Ben gave an exhale of relief, leaning down and picking up his sawed off. "Guess we'd better go let the girls out, huh?"
As the sun came up, everyone stood in front of the asylum. The Ghostfacers were loading up their equipment, reeling over how famous they were about to become with the amazing footage they had. Claire was packing her weapons and shovels back into the Chevelle, and Ben and Gavin were returning from reburying what was left of Marko.
"So, you guys," Harry said, looking at the girls, Gavin, and Ben and narrowing his eyes. "You guys are hunters too?"
The girls looked at each other, exchanging shrugs and awkward glances. Finally, Sara looked back at Harry. "It's complicated," was all she said.
"Right. Well, whatever it is, it makes for some great television," Harry said, and Ed agreed, nodding enthusiastically. "We're going to be huge."
"Remember us little people when you are," Claire said.
"We will," Harry swore, not picking up on Claire's sarcasm. She rolled her eyes as they watched the Ghostbusters load into their van and disappear down the road. The group was silent for a moment when Gavin spoke.
"How long do you reckon it'll be before they realize Alex fried their equipment and deleted the footage?"
"Two hours," Claire guessed. "Give or take."
"Well, I want to be far from here by then," Sara said, pushing herself off of the Chevelle and moving towards the passenger side door. Ben followed, and they stood close together, talking quietly. Alex and Claire grinned.
"I'm going to call Kev and make sure he made it home okay," Alex said, removing her phone from her pocket and stepping away.
"Don't take too long!" Claire called after her. "I'm starving." She pushed herself off the car, taking her car keys from her pockets. "Burgers?" she asked Gavin, and he smiled.
"Sounds great."
"Cool," Claire said, giving his foot a playful nudge with her own, ready to jump into the driver's seat and get far away. She stopped when Gavin grunted in pain in reaction to her hitting his foot, and she turned, watching him struggle to stand straight and not look pained.
Claire approached him suspiciously. "What was that?"
"It was nothing," he promised, feigning a smile. "I'll meet you down the road for food, yeah?"
Claire gave him the once over, a frown forming on her lips. "Let me see your foot."
"What? Why?" He moved away from the car, walking normally – almost normally, Claire suddenly realized. Every time he put pressure on his right ankle, his leg shook slightly. If you didn't know him as well as Claire did, it would have never been noticeable.
"Gavin," Claire said, grabbing his arm, taking him by surprise and forcing him to sit on the tailgate of his truck. She yanked up his pants leg, eyes widening slightly when she noticed the swollen, black and purple skin of his ankle. She looked up at him in shock, and he looked annoyed at getting caught.
"What did you do?" Claire demanded, standing up straight. She glanced at her own, perfectly healed foot for a moment as realization hit her, and she glared back at Gavin. "Is that – is that my broken ankle?"
"No," Gavin said, pulling his pants leg back down and standing. "It's mine. And it's fine, I've had worse."
"You know what I mean!" Claire hissed, hitting his shoulder. "When you . . . fixed mine, did you . . . how did you . . ?" She was caught off guard as Gavin took her wrist in his hand, his other hand busying itself by pushing some hair behind her ear.
"All magic has consequences," he told her, and Claire couldn't understand how he didn't look angry or annoyed. He broke his ankle for me. Why isn't he even a little pissed off?
"This is the second time you've used magic to help me," she replied quietly.
"It's worth it," he promised her again.
"No, it's not! Gavin, that's – you shouldn't have . . ."
"But I did," he said, pressing a quick, sweet kiss to her lips before moving towards the front of the truck. "And I don't regret it."
"You're not driving," Claire said, plucking the keys from his hand, and Gavin sighed. "You're going to the hospital, and then you're coming back to Sioux Falls and resting. Got it?"
"Claire –"
"Stay," she ordered, before going back to the others and giving Alex the keys to the Chevelle, explaining what she was doing. The girls nodded and got into the Chevelle, Ben getting into his car as well. Claire returned to the truck as the other cars disappeared down the road, and Gavin shook his head at his girlfriend's bossiness as he complied and got into the passenger seat. Claire was clearly conflicted in how to feel – angry because he had hurt himself for her, or grateful because he loved her so much to do so – and turned the radio up to avoid talking about her feelings. Gavin hid a smirk as he glanced out the window, wondering how he'd gotten lucky enough to stumble across a girl like Claire Novak.