"You sleeping, Summer?"
I jolt to attention and glance over at Joe. "Hmm? No, I'm wide awake."
"You sure?" Kris teases, meeting my eyes in the rear view mirror. "You've been pretty quiet for the last half an hour."
I grin at her. "Fully awake and present. Just thinking about the investigation tonight. I'm really looking forward to this one."
"It should be a good one. I'm looking forward to it myself," Joe agrees.
Joe Chin is yet another member of Ghost Hunters International, and a good friend of Dustin's. He happened to be spending a month back in the States, and jumped at the chance to go on this investigation with us.
An inch or two shorter than me, Joe is broad-shouldered and stocky. I can't help smiling as I observe his attire: he's dressed in black from head to toe. Black sneakers, black jeans, black leather jacket open over a black TAPS shirt, spiky black hair, and black sunglasses hiding his dark brown eyes.
"You'll blend in tonight," Kris teased him earlier today. "With all that black, you'll be practically invisible."
Now, Kris leans forward and drums her fingers on the steering wheel. "We should be getting close, I guess."
Just then, the walkie talkie laid in the center console crackles to life. "Hey Kris, can you fill us in on some of the history of this place?" It's Jason's voice.
Kris reaches for the radio and presses talk. "Sure, Jay. The Burkfield Asylum was built in 1864 as a place to house the criminally insane, and it remained in operation up until 1962. In that period of almost a hundred years, over two thousand patients were reputed to have died there."
Beside me, Joe lets out a low whistle.
"What kind of activity can we expect to experience tonight?" Jason asks.
"All kinds," Kris answers him. "The building owners have reported footsteps, voices, screams, odd thumps and bangs, and feelings of being watched. Not only that, but some of the activity seems to be of a more violent nature. Several people have reported being pushed, one man swears he was deliberately tripped up while walking past the door to one of the wards, and a woman claims that an entity tried to push her down the stairs."
Joe and I exchange wide-eyed glances, and I feel a shiver run through me. We go into every investigation with the full knowledge that we could be putting ourselves in harm's way, and this sounds like it could be one of those nights.
"All right, guys," Jason's voice has an authoritative ring, even over the radio. "We'll need to exercise extra caution tonight, not just because of the reports, but the building itself has been abandoned for quite some time and it's bound to be dangerous in places. Steve, Dave, you guys copy?"
"Loud and clear, Jay," Steve's voice comes over the radio. "This sounds like it's going to be an interesting night, for sure."
Interesting, indeed, I muse to myself, gazing out the window. It's an overcast day, and even though it's only early evening, darkness seems to be pressing down on us already. The air is heavy and still, and it feels like it might rain. What a night for an investigation!
Ahead of us, the lead vehicle driven by Jason and Grant brakes to a halt by the side of the road.
"I think we might have taken a wrong turn somewhere," Grant's voice comes over the radio. "It should be in this approximate area, but none of these lanes are marked. We're going to turn around and head back the opposite way."
I can feel a familiar flutter of excitement and impatience building in my chest as we drive in what seems like circles. What will tonight bring?
Finally, we turn into a long, curving driveway. "Here we are, folks," Grant announces over the radio, and Joe lets out another whistle of amazement.
"Wow!" Kris exclaims, at the same time Amy gasps, "It's huge!"
As I jump down out of the Yukon, my feet crunch on gravel. Weeds and bushes sprout freely in the yard, and even the once-elegant driveway is slowly being taken over by the encroaching shrubbery.
This is it; the Burkfield Asylum for Disordered Persons.
I gaze up at the facade with something akin to awe. The four-story brick building stares down at us through lidless eyes of broken glass, most of the shutters long gone and a few hanging precariously from one hinge. The sagging porch that stretches across the front of the building was probably once welcoming, but now slouches gloomily to one side.
"Hello! Welcome!" I spin quickly towards the sound of a voice. A middle-aged man with neatly combed blond hair fading to gray and wearing a green sweater and neatly creased khaki pants has just emerged around the corner of the building, looking strangely out of place in this dismal setting.
"Andrew Blanton, caretaker of the Burkfield Asylum, at your service." He shakes each of our hands in turn. "I'm so pleased and honored that you all could come."
"Well, we're honored that you invited us," Jason says with a smile. "How about you take us on a tour of the place, show us the hot spots and so on?"
"I'd be delighted to," Mr. Blanton says eagerly.
Steve tosses the keys of the tech van to Tango. "All right, Tango, why don't you and Joe and the girls get started unloading? We shouldn't be too long."
"You got it," Tango agrees.
"Right this way, gentlemen. Watch your step," Mr. Blanton leads Jason, Steve, and Grant towards the front door of the building. In the meantime, I jump into the routine that's finally become familiar to me after a full spring and summer of investigating with TAPS.
Unloading the gear always takes us a while simply because there's so much of it, but with five of us working at it, the tech van and the two Yukons are steadily emptied while the pile of equipment on the floor of the large foyer grows larger and larger.
We're three-quarters of the way through when we're rejoined by Steve, and we halt our unloading to see if our Tech Manager has any specific instructions for us.
"Okay, guys," Steve pauses with his hands on his hips and purses his lips thoughtfully. We wait silently, and finally he continues, "This location is going to be a bit of a challenge. The West Wing of the building is fully wired with electricity, so there shouldn't be any problems there. The East Wing, on the other hand, has no electricity at all. So that means we'll have to run extension cords to the cameras on the first and second floors, and rely strictly on mini camcorders to cover the top two floors. There's just no way we have enough extension cords to reach to the third and fourth floors, even with the extra cables we brought."
"It's a good thing we laid in extra batteries too," Tango speaks up, and Steve nods.
"Kris, Amy, can you help Dave start setting up in here? Joe, Summer, I'll help you two finish bringing in the rest of the stuff. Sound good?"
We murmur in agreement and scatter to our assigned places.
It doesn't take us long to empty the last bit of gear from the tech van. Joe starts back towards the building, lugging two heavy camera cases. I'm right behind him, with a rolled-up extension cord over one arm and a box of batteries in my hand, but I stop for a moment to study the sky.
I'm amazed at how still the air is. The dried grasses and even the shrubs seem to be drooping, as if a heavy hand is pressing down on them. Pale, watery sunlight tries to peek though the leaden sky, but farther to the east, an ominous bank of dark clouds is rolling in. Looking at their roiling underbellies, I see what appears to be a misty veil hanging between the sky and the ground. Rain, and a lot of it, if I'm judging correctly.
To my left, the old porch creaks and groans as Joe walks across it, and the slap of the door closing behind him reminds me that I should get back to work. Instead, I stand in one place, fascinated by the way the curtain of rain seems to undulate and change. I wonder how long it'll take to reach us. A few minutes? A few hours?
"What are you looking at, Summer?"
I'm so absorbed by the sight that I haven't even heard Steve come up behind me with the last of the gear.
"Rain," I answer distractedly, still staring off to the east. Steve doesn't answer for a long moment, and finally I glance over at him. He, too, seems fascinated by the sky. His chin is tilted up and his eyes are narrowed as he studies the dark clouds.
I look away from him just in time to see a flicker of lightning dance from cloud to cloud, and my breath catches with excitement. I hear Steve counting under his breath, and finally we hear a faint, far-off rumble of thunder.
"It's still a good distance away. It'll be a while yet before it hits us," Steve predicts.
"Oh, I hope it comes soon." I bounce up and down on my toes a couple of times, and I feel Steve looking at me in amusement.
"You like storms?"
"I love storms," I admit. "The harder it rains, the better I like it."
Another faint growl of thunder interrupts us. "It looks like you'll get your wish," Steve observes.
Just then I hear the asylum's front door open with a bang. "Hey, Puck, you want to help me set up these camcorders?" The door slams shut again behind Tango before I even have a chance to open my mouth, and Steve and I look at each other and laugh.
"Duty calls," Steve teases, poking me gently with the tripod he's carrying. "Get moving, Miss Investigator-in-Training."
"Yes sir, Mr. Tech Manager," I toss back sarcastically, and I hear him snort behind me as I climb the rickety steps to the porch.
Shouldering the squeaky door open, I notice that Jason and Grant have joined us and are elbow-deep in tech equipment.
"Mr. Blanton has headed back to town for the evening, but he'll meet us here before we leave to check in and lock everything up," Jason tells us.
"This place is huge," Amy comments just then, as she and Joe appear from another doorway. "It's like a maze. You can easily get lost in here."
"Okay, team, now that we're all here, listen up," Jason begins, and we gather around attentively.
"This place is pretty old and decrepit, so everyone take extra precautions. Make sure you each have working flashlights and walkie talkies, and maintain radio contact with us here at headquarters. There's lots of crumbling plaster and a couple of the stairways have railings missing, so be very cautious and watch your step when investigating those areas. There are also a lot of broken windows, so be mindful of broken glass underfoot or if you happen to need to get down on the floor for any reason."
Jason stops and surveys us to make sure we're listening, before continuing. "Also, keep in mind what Kris was telling us earlier. Some of the activity here may or may not be threatening, so just be extra mindful of your safety."
"So... no provoking?" Kris asks sheepishly, and we share a chuckle. Sometimes I think provoking is Kris's favorite method of investigating; she loves trying to rile up potential entities to get a rise out of them.
Jason is smiling too as he answers, "You can provoke, but just remember the fact that many of these people were mentally ill and, from the sounds of things, may have already endured a lot of abuse and trauma while they were alive, so just be mindful of that, okay?"
Kris nods seriously.
"That goes for the rest of you, too," Grant says. "Many of the patients here were children, as well, so you may want to take a different approach than you would with adults."
"Wait a second," I speak up, and everyone turns to look at me. "You mean... they kept children in a place like this?"
"Yes," Grant answers. "In fact the whole East Wing was the dedicated children's ward. From what Mr. Blanton tells us, they had patients here as young as two, and they stayed in the children's ward until the age of sixteen, when they were moved into the adult's ward in the West Wing."
"But... why?" I can't comprehend children living in these morose rooms.
Grant explains gently. "You have to remember that mental illness wasn't really understood back in those days. It was common for children with learning disabilities or schizophrenia or Down Syndrome, for example, to be institutionalized."
"That's so sad," Amy sighs, and a mutter of agreement goes through the room.
"Jay, have you explained about the teams yet?" Grant changes the subject, and Jason shakes his head.
"Not yet. Joe, we thought that maybe you'd like to investigate with Steve and Dave tonight, how does that sound?"
"Fine by me," Joe replies with a smile, and Jason continues.
"Kris, Amy, you two are together as usual. Summer, how about you come along with G. and I, and then partway through the night you can switch over and investigate with Amy and Kris?"
"Fine by me," I mimic Joe's words.
"Girl team!" Kris crows triumphantly, reaching to high-five Amy and I. I can't help but smile at her enthusiasm.
"All right, let's finish getting the cameras set up and get audio recorders ready to go," Jason directs. "Steve, you can take over from here."
As I rush around with the rest of the team following Steve's orders, I can't help replaying Grant's words in my mind.
"It was common for children with learning disabilities... to be institutionalized."
"That's so sad," Amy had responded.
As I think about it, sad isn't the term I'd use. Horrifying, nauseating, sickening, rage-inducing, maybe.
I can't imagine being sent away from my family to live out my life in a place like this. But if I had been born back in the 1800s, I might have been.
It's a sobering and disturbing thought, and it dogs my footsteps as Tango and I scurry "upstairs and downstairs and in my lady's chamber" as the old poem goes.
By the time we're almost ready to begin our investigation, I still can't decide how to feel about this knowledge. And when we all gather in the foyer, which we're using as a temporary Command Central, Tango comments on it.
"You okay Puck? You've been awfully quiet the whole time we've been setting up."
I rouse myself, only to realize I've been staring blankly at the end of an extension cord rather than plugging it into the wall. I flush with embarrassment and jam the cord into the outlet. "Yeah."
"You sure?"
"Yeah," I repeat, and then glance up to find the rest of the team staring at me from their various places around the room. "What?"
Kris walks up to me and looks me straight in the face, and I immediately drop my gaze.
"You're not yourself. Spill," she insists quietly, and I sigh.
"I was thinking about what Grant said earlier," I admit.
"About children with disabilities living here?" Grant questions, and I nod.
"Children like me," I say carefully, and he inhales audibly as he takes in my meaning.
Scraping the toe of my sneaker against the floor, I continue. "I... I guess I've always known that disabilities weren't really understood a hundred years or more ago. But I never... I never really thought about it, somehow. I mean... being here, and realizing that if not for some stroke of luck that caused me to be born in this century... I could have ended up here. And most likely would have. Not here, in Burkfield specifically, but in an asylum like this."
There's a long period of silence as everyone processes that. In the stillness, Jason comes to stand quietly at my side. "If you feel this investigation might be too much for you, we'll completely understand if you'd rather sit it out," he says softly.
I can tell it's a sincere offer, but I'm shaking my head before he even finishes. "I always put one hundred percent into every investigation, but this is... is different, somehow. It sort of became... personal, you know? It's something I need to do. It's very important to me."
I peer up at Jason, hoping he understands. He's nodding slowly.
"Besides," I finish determinedly. "I'm a Ghost Hunter, and I don't back down at anything."
"That's the spirit," Jason tells me, with a smile and a warm squeeze to my shoulder. "But if you need help processing anything, you just let us know, okay?"
"Okay," I agree.
"All right then. Steve, how are we looking? Everything ready to go?"
"Everything ready to go, Jay. We can take a look at the camera angles and, if you like them, we can lock them down."
"Well, let's see what you've got." Jason and Grant lean over the back of Steve's chair as he begins pointing out the camera angles and explaining his reasoning behind each one. I do my best to listen, but I'll admit my mind wanders a bit.
"Looking good," Jason says finally, and I snap back to attention in time to see him clap Steve on the shoulder. "How about you and Dave and Joe go and check out the West Wing? Summer can come with Grant and I while we check out this section of the building and the East Wing. Ladies, do you want to keep an eye on things here at Command Central? We'll switch out after a while."
"Sure thing, Jay." Amy plops down in the chair that Steve just vacated, and Kris joins her.
"Okay then. Let's get the lights out; well, in the rooms that have electricity anyway, and get this investigation started."
The first place that Jason and Grant decide to check out is the massive dining hall on the first floor. I note with sadness the rusty iron bars across the windows, and wonder if they were meant to keep patients in... or out.
Our voices echo eerily in the cavernous room, and I stay close to Jason and Grant as we slowly walk the perimeter. I'm not scared, but there's something so very lonely about this place.
"Jason, Grant, and Summer; main floor dining hall, Burkfield Asylum." Grant speaks quietly into the handheld voice recorder before raising his voice. "Hello? My name is Grant. These are my friends Summer and Jason."
"Hello!" Jason's voice and mine overlap.
Grant continues, "We're not here to hurt you in any way. You're not in trouble, we'd just like to talk to you."
"Can you tell us your name?" Jason calls.
"How many of you are here?" I chime in.
"If you can hear us, can you make a noise to let us know that you can hear us?" Grant pauses in his questioning, and we all strain our ears and listen.
"No EMF readings," Jason muses, holding the K2 meter close to one wall. "Zero point zero in here, so it's definitely not high EMFs causing people to think they're seeing shadow figures."
Grant shines his flashlight upwards, to examine the widely spaced windows above our heads. Surprisingly, most of them seem to be intact. "What could cause someone to think they see shadow figures in here? Maybe a reflection of some sort?"
"This hall is at the back of the building, right?" I question. When Grant nods, I continue thoughtfully. "So it couldn't be headlights from a car on the road or in the driveway then. Is there anything reflective in here?"
We scan the room with our lights, but don't see anything that could create a reflection. "So..." I continue thinking out loud. I move a few steps closer to the center of the room, my feet crunching grittily on piles of plaster dust.
Turning around, I shine my light towards Jason and Grant, keeping the beam low enough so I don't accidentally blind anyone. "Our lights make shadows on the wall, but that would be kind of obvious," I continue, and then sigh, stumped for the moment.
Grant smiles. "Well, it would be nice if we could come up with an answer on our first try, but that rarely happens," he consoles me. "We'll just have to keep looking for now."
Clunk.
All three of us spin and aim our lights towards the far wall. "On second thought," Grant comments, "Maybe we're closer to finding an answer than we think we are."
We hurry across the room in single file.
"Hello?" Jason tries again. "You don't have to be afraid of us. We're friends. We just want to talk to you, that's all we want to do."
Crash!
All three of us flinch reflexively. "There," Jason says, pointing with his light along one wall. "See that piece of board? It was leaning up against the wall when we came in."
The board is now lying on the floor. Approaching it, I gingerly lift it and lean it back against the wall. Jason stomps his feet loudly, and the sound echoes around the room. The piece of board immediately slides sideways and topples over once again.
"The vibrations of our footsteps must have knocked it over," Jason says with satisfaction.
"But what caused that clunk that we heard first?" Grant wonders.
No answers are apparent, but just as we're getting ready to exit the dining hall, we hear it again. This time, I catch a faint movement out of the corner of my eye.
"Hey Jason, Grant... I think I see something." I'm craning my neck to look out the window.
"You've found something, Summer?" Grant comes to stand beside me, and I try to point it out to him.
"I see... something," Grant answers after squinting for a moment. "Can't tell what it is, though. Too dark. I wonder..." He surveys the room and, spying a rickety chair, goes to retrieve it. "This should put me high enough."
"I wouldn't, if I were you," Jason says warningly when he sees what Grant is planning to do.
Grant gives the chair a hard shake. "Seems pretty solid to me."
He places his right foot on the seat, tests its strength, and then starts to step up. His left foot is just leaving the floor when the seat of the chair breaks in two with a loud snap, and Grant's foot plunges through the broken slats, almost causing him to lose his balance.
Thankfully, he lands on both feet, but he does look pretty odd with one leg poking through the broken seat of the chair. I slap my hand over my mouth before I can let a snicker escape.
"You okay, man?" Jason asks with concern.
"Yeah," Grant replies with a slight groan. "Scraped my leg, but that was my own stupid fault."
He rolls up the cuff of his pants and inspects his shin in the beam of Jason's flashlight. "Didn't break the skin, at least," he mutters.
I see Jason's shoulders start to shake a moment before I hear his rumbling chuckle. "I told you that was a bad idea," he points out.
"Yeah, yeah, rub it in," Grant grouses, and I can't help but let out a small giggle. Grant raises an eyebrow at me. "You too, Summer?"
"He started it!" I quickly blurt, pointing at Jason, who lets out another chuckle and shakes his head.
"No sympathy here," he ribs Grant.
"But we are glad you're okay," I add quickly, in case we hurt Grant's feelings.
"Well, that idea is out," Grant says in disgust, shoving the broken chair away from him.
Jason gives me a considering look. "Maybe we should boost Summer up so she can take a look. It worked so well for Steve and Tango," he teases lightly.
"No!" I squeak, and Jason laughs outright.
"Oh, well, it was worth a try."
Meanwhile, Grant is backing along the wall on tiptoe, almost dislocating his neck in an effort to peer through the high window. "I think I see it," he says finally, just as we hear another clunk. "Yeah, there's a loose shutter outside... it's swinging in the wind and every so often it hits up against the window frame."
"Nothing supernatural here, then," Jason observes, and Grant nods.
"Nothing yet, anyway."
We're all startled by the crackle of the walkie talkie clipped to Jason's belt. "Jay, Grant, Summer?" It's Steve's voice.
"Go for Jay," Jason replies, lifting the radio up to his mouth.
"Were you guys banging around and making a bit of noise a few minutes ago?"
Jason raises his eyebrows at us before responding. "Yeah, we were, actually. Can you guys hear us all the way over in the West Wing?"
"I think so... would you mind doing it again just to be sure?"
Jason releases the Talk button on the radio, before stomping his feet loudly several times.
"Perfect, thank you," Steve responds a moment later.
Jason presses Talk again. "Steve, just so you know, Summer and Grant and I are about to move over to the East Wing, so that should give us enough distance in between teams that we're not contaminating any evidence."
"Roger that," comes Steve's voice, before the radio goes quiet.
"The walls must be really thin, or something, to allow the sound to carry that well," Grant remarks.
Jason nods in agreement. "All right, guys," he says, clipping the walkie talkie back onto his belt. "Let's move on. Ready to check out the children's ward, Summer?"
I tilt my chin up, which makes me think of Steve for some reason.
"I was born ready," I say firmly, which brings smiles to both Jason's and Grant's faces as they lead the way towards the East Wing of the Burkfield Asylum.