Jason holds the heavy door open for us as we move out of the dining area and into the long corridor. Ahead of me, Grant pauses and tilts his head, listening. Jason and I do the same, and now we can all hear it: the steady swish of rain against the windows.
"Looks like the storm has hit," Grant observes as we head towards the stairwell. I shiver slightly, and Jason catches the movement.
"You cold, Summer?"
"Nah. Just excited." I confess. "Storms and the paranormal just seem to go together, you know?"
"Well, there's plenty of people who believe that a storm or bad weather increases the chance of paranormal activity," Jason comments. "We've seen some evidence of that ourselves, haven't we, G.?"
"We sure have." Grant shines his light up the stairs. "Should we start at the top floor and work our way down?"
"Sure, we can do that," Jason replies, and I echo my agreement.
I'm panting slightly by the time we've finished climbing three flights of stairs. The sound of the rain is much louder up here, and I can hear what sounds like water splashing on the floor.
"Roof's leaking," Grant mutters, aiming his light at the ceiling. "I can't believe this place hasn't been torn down yet, but I guess it's a good thing for TAPS that it hasn't been."
"I think this is the door to one of the main wards," Jason says, raising his voice to be heard above the pounding rain. He tries to open the door, but it's warped and stuck firmly in its frame. He gives a mighty heave, and the door suddenly flies open, almost knocking him backwards.
A gust of sodden wind swirls around us, snatching at our clothes. "What a mess!" Jason yells above the pounding rain.
Grant and I lean around the door frame to look into the empty room. A long row of floor-to-ceiling windows stretches from one end of the ward to the other. At one time, this might have been a sun room. Now, the floor is littered with broken glass, and the whole side of the building is open to the elements.
Our flashlight beams reflect off of pools of water on the tile floor and illuminate strips of peeling, mildewed wallpaper. Rain sprays our faces, and I wrinkle my nose in disgust as Jason shoves the door closed again.
"There's no sense even trying to investigate in there. We'd only end up damaging our equipment," he says firmly.
We try to hold an EVP session while standing in the dark hallway, but the noise of wind, thunder and rain is almost deafening and we finally give up and descend to the third floor.
It's quieter down here, and we drift down the hallway in a loose group, opening doors and peering into rooms.
Some of the rooms seem to be in better condition than others. Most are empty, but Jason finds a broken bed frame in one room and I find the dusty glass shade of an old oil lamp in another.
"Guys?" Grant's voice is oddly strained as he leans out of a third room. "I think you might want to look at this."
Jason and I exchange glances, and I follow Jason into the tiny, windowless room close to the stairway. There's an old metal crib in this room, shoved into a corner. It still holds the remains of a moldy mattress.
"Well, that seems to confirm what Mr. Blanton told us about children as young as two being kept here," Jason says in hushed tones.
"That wasn't what particularly caught my attention," Grant says. "Look." He points out the remains of what appear to be leather straps tied around the rails of the crib. There are four in all, one in each corner.
For a moment, I don't understand. Then, bile rises in my throat as the sickening realization sweeps over me. A child was restrained here... tied into this crib with leather straps.
I have to leave the room. Jason and Grant aren't far behind me.
Outside, in the hallway, I look up at the ceiling and take several slow breaths, trying to calm the nausea rising in my stomach and the feelings of rage rising in my heart.
Grant, his hands in his pockets, stares silently at the floor. Jason rubs a hand over his face. Both of them are as disturbed as I am, I realize.
"Man, that is just so messed up," Grant says finally. "But we're here to investigate, so let's see if we can make contact with anyone here."
I don't want to go back in that airless room. But my job, as an investigator, is to go boldly into the places that no one else wants to go, and that's exactly what I plan on doing.
"Is there anyone besides us in this room?" Jason asks. We wait silently for a response.
"Can you tell us your name?" Grant asks. He's standing with his head down, studying the K2 meter, when all of a sudden he looks up, startled.
"What?" Jason asks in a barely audible voice, and Grant motions for him to be quiet. We stand frozen, listening. It's so still that I'm pretty sure I can hear my heart pounding.
"Thought I heard... a voice," Grant says finally. "But I can't be sure."
"Where did it sound like it was coming from?" I ask, just above a whisper.
"I'm not sure of that either." Grant raises his voice, to be sure of being heard by a possible entity. "If that was you, can you come closer and speak up? We can't quite hear you."
"We have a device here that will allow us to hear your voice," Jason says, holding up the voice recorder. "It won't hurt you at all. We need you to come and speak your name into it, as loudly as you can, please."
"Are you the one who was tied into this crib?" I ask, fighting to keep a shudder out of my voice.
"We're very sorry that happened to you," Grant continues in a compassionate tone. "It must have been very scary."
We ask a few more questions, but nothing seems to respond. Finally Jason says quietly, "How about we move down to the..." His voice trails off, and he turns quickly towards the doorway.
Now it's Grant's turn to ask, "What?"
Jason glances back at us, clearly puzzled. "Did you just hear a... giggle?"
Grant and I look at each other and both shake our heads.
"Why would anyone be giggling in here?" I mutter, before Jason waves his hand in a shushing motion.
"This way," he murmurs, and leads us down the hallway towards the stairs.
We pause at the head of the stairway and listen for a while. Suddenly my head snaps up, and I can tell that Jason and Grant are hearing the same thing I'm hearing: the tapping of quick, light footsteps in the hall below.
"Let's go." Jason plunges down the stairway, with Grant and I right behind him. Upon our arrival on the second floor, we stop and listen again. The footsteps seem to have vanished.
"I hope we're getting this on the audio recorder," Grant mumbles, fiddling with the settings.
"Let's take a look in here," Jason directs, leading the way into another large empty room.
As soon as I walk through the doorway, I'm struck with a feeling of sadness so strong that I stop with a gasp, causing Grant, who's walking behind me, to bump into me. "Summer? What's wrong?"
I shake my head and step out of the doorway so he can enter, but I don't answer right away. The feeling is unmistakable; it's like walking into a funeral parlor. The air is heavy with grief.
Grant and Jason are both looking at me, waiting for an explanation. "It's..." I struggle to put my feelings into words. "Can you feel it? It's so... so sad in here. It's like the room is crying."
My statement is met with raised eyebrows, and I know they're probably not believing me. But I forge ahead anyways. "I... I think something terrible happened in here, maybe. I don't know. I've never felt anything like this before."
"Hmm." Grant looks at me thoughtfully. "I don't feel it myself, but it's very possible you might be picking up on something."
He begins an EVP session while Jason scans the room with the K2 meter. I mainly focus on listening.
As we talk quietly, though, I feel the atmosphere in the room changing. It lightens, somehow, as if the grief is fading and peace is taking its place. Whatever is here isn't malicious, I can feel that. It seems to be quietly curious about us.
"Well, we don't seem to be getting much response up here," Jason says finally. "How about we head downstairs and see what everyone else is up to?"
"Fine by me," Grant agrees. "What do you think, Summer?... Summer?"
I'm distracted, peering around at the walls and ceiling. "Huh? Oh, yeah."
As I follow Jason and Grant, however, I'm struck with the strangest feeling; I don't want to leave.
I stop walking. "Um, guys?"
Both men turn and look back, waiting for me to continue.
"Um, is it... would it be okay if I, um... if I stayed up here for a while? I want to do some more EVP work."
Jason and Grant exchange a long look. Jason raises his eyebrows, and Grant purses his lips. Then Jason tilts his head to one side, and Grant nods. I really wish I was better at reading body language.
Jason finally turns to me. "Are you sure you're okay with staying up here alone?" He asks gently, and I nod.
"Yes. I'm not getting any bad feelings up here at all, honestly."
Jason shares another look with Grant, and finally exhales and nods. "Okay, if you're sure."
"What are you planning to do?" Grant asks. "Sit, stand, walk around?"
"I think... I think I'm just going to sit down. Right here," and I sink down in a cross-legged position close to the back wall.
"Okay. I'm going to leave the camcorder right here on the floor, pointing at you and also getting the rest of the room." Grant matches his words to his actions, setting up the camera several feet away from me and aiming in my direction.
"You take the K2 meter and the voice recorder," Jason instructs, handing both to me. "And oh, here..." He lays the walkie talkie beside me. "If you need anything, just radio and we'll come running."
"Okay. Thanks."
"You sure you're all right?" Grant checks in one more time, and I smile at his concern.
"I'm fine, Grant."
"Okay then. See you downstairs in a bit."
I sit quietly and listen to the sound of Jason's and Grant's footsteps dying away as they head down over the stairs to the first floor, leaving me alone. I should be scared to death right now, but I'm actually surprised at how calm I feel.
Finally, when I don't hear anything else from the rest of the team, I lay the K2 meter a few feet to the right of me, where I can see it and also where it can be clearly picked up by the camera, should I catch any activity. I lay the voice recorder on the floor in front of me.
"The grown-ups are gone," I address the empty room in front of me, noticing the way my voice echoes against the bare walls. "It's safe to come out now."
I know I'm also a grown-up, but for right now, I'm hoping that any child entities here will see me as one of them.
I begin rocking back and forth, thinking that maybe, just maybe, a child spirit might recognize the soothing motion as one that they perform themselves.
"My name is Summer. Can you tell me yours?"
I wait a long while. "It's okay if you're shy... I am too, sometimes. Do you play with your friends here?"
Another long pause. "It's okay to come out." I say softly. "I won't hurt you, or laugh at you. I know what that feels like, you know. I'm... well, I'm disabled too. I'm... different. And the children in my school used to laugh at me. I had to go to special classes sometimes. Do you go to school here?"
There's the faintest rustle in one corner of the room, and I studiously turn my head away from it. Right now, I'm going against everything that I've learned about ghost hunting. If Jason and Grant were here, they would be walking over to that corner right now; looking, listening, probing.
They know ghosts and the paranormal... but I know disability, especially autism. And tonight, we're combining knowledge of both.
"There's a little black box on the floor in front of me," I explain simply. "If you come and speak into it, it remembers the sound of your voice, so I can hear you. If you want to tell me your name... or, well, anything about yourself, you can."
The thought crosses my mind that some of the inhabitants here might be non-verbal, so I continue explaining, "There's another little black box to my right. That won't hurt you, either. If you stand next to it, the green lights will light up. We can even use it to communicate, if you'd like."
The lights flicker.
My breath catches in my throat. That was definitely a response.
"Hello," I say again, keeping my voice calm even though I want to shriek with excitement. "Thank you for coming over to talk to me. I'm very glad that you did."
The lights flicker again, a bit brighter.
"Hmm. How about if I ask you some questions? You can make the lights light up real bright for 'yes', and turn them off for 'no'. How does that sound?"
The light blinks green, and I can't hold back a huge smile. "Thank you. Well, let's see... are you a girl?"
The K2 meter goes dark.
"Are you a boy?"
The meter lights up again.
"Okay... are you under ten years old?"
Again, darkness.
"Are you under sixteen years old?" I ask, remembering that that's the age when children were moved to the adult ward. The lights flash quickly.
"Okay, are you eleven? Twelve? Thirteen?" I pause as the lights come on yet again.
"So, you're a thirteen year old boy?"
A quick blink of confirmation.
If I wasn't seeing this activity with my own eyes, there's no way I would believe it. I cross my fingers and hope with all my might that the camcorder hasn't glitched, because there's no way that anyone else on the team will believe it either, without video evidence to back it up.
With a few more questions, I confirm that no, the boy doesn't have family here; yes, he does have friends here; and yes, there are more spirits present. More than fifty of them, if my informant can be believed.
"Are you happy here?" A long pause, and the lights blink faintly. "Does this place just feel safe and familiar to you, because you've been here a long time?"
A stronger "yes."
"I thought so." I wrack my brains for anything else I can ask. "Is this the first time someone has come here to talk to you?"
The lights stay dark, and I'm surprised. I would have thought we were the first ones to make any kind of contact.
"Are you okay with my friends and I being here?"
Another flash of green, but fainter, as if the spirit is getting tired or its energy is draining. I think quickly. "Are you getting tired?"
A barely visible flash this time.
"Okay. I won't ask you any more questions. I'm so glad that I got to come here and speak with you. Thank you so much for making an effort to speak with me... I really appreciate it. Some of my friends will come up here later... maybe you can communicate with them, if you have enough energy."
The lights give one more faint flicker of acknowledgment, and then go out for a final time.
I have my hand over my mouth, physically stopping myself from screaming with joy. This is truly the strongest paranormal experience I've ever had. I've been in direct contact and had a conversation with a person who lived perhaps a hundred years ago. I realize belatedly that I should have asked the spirit what year it was, but that would have been difficult to communicate, I suppose.
I slowly get to my feet and gather the voice recorder, walkie talkie, K2 meter, and camcorder. I have to do a bit of juggling, and I finally tuck the voice recorder and K2 meter into my pockets and clip the walkie talkie to the waistband of my jeans. I hold the camcorder tightly, just in case I drop it. I'm taking no chances on destroying the evidence.
"Thank you again," I call as I leave the room.
Stepping into the hallway, I fumble with my flashlight until I manage to turn it on. My hand is trembling, and the flashlight beam wobbles erratically across the floor. My heart pounds as I walk swiftly down the hallway and make my way down the stairs.
Outside, the rain sluices down and the old windows rattle alarmingly, but I don't hear a thing, caught up in my experiences. Finally I see a faint light spilling into the hallway from the foyer, and hear the sound of conversation.
Pausing in the doorway, I survey the scene. Steve, Joe, and Tango must still be investigating, because they're nowhere to be seen. Grant and Kris are seated in front of the monitor, while Amy munches a granola bar and Jason paces the room restlessly.
As Jason reaches the front door and turns around, he sees me and raises his eyebrows. "Well? Did you find anything?"
Amy, Grant, and Kris all swivel in their seats to look at me, and I'm suddenly without words. How do I even begin to explain this?
Silently, I cross the room and lay down the camcorder and the rest of my equipment. At last I can't restrain myself any longer, and clamp both hands over my mouth to muffle a yelp of excitement while I spin in a circle.
Amy bursts into laughter. "Well, now I know that something happened up there! What? What is it?" she practically begs.
I sink down on a folding stool. Every eye in the room is locked on me, and I take a shaky breath before blurting, "I was in contact with a thirteen year old boy who was a resident here, and he says there are well over fifty more spirits or entities that hang around here."
Looking around the room, I giggle at their dumbstruck expressions. Kris's mouth is hanging open. Jason's eyebrows threaten to lift right off his forehead. Amy almost chokes on her granola bar. And Grant is looking at me with his eyes shining, like a kid at Christmas.
"Did you get anything on audio or video?" he asks impatiently.
I wave my hand towards the camcorder. "Every last bit of it."
The words are hardly out of my mouth before Grant is grabbing the camcorder and Kris is passing him the end of a cable. He quickly hooks up the camcorder so it will play back on the big screen.
Amy jumps to her feet, and she, Jason, and I peer over Grant's and Kris's shoulders at the monitor. Grant rewinds the tape, and we watch breathlessly.
"Wow. Wow," Grant keeps muttering as we watch the tape play back. Kris drums her heels on the floor with excitement, and Amy is clutching my arm without even realizing it.
When the tape comes to an end, I sneak a glance at Jason. He's still standing calmly with his arms folded in typical Jason fashion, but there's a wide grin threatening to split his face in two.
"Well, Summer," he says, looking back at me. "I think the prize for the best evidence collected on this investigation will have to go to you. Unless Steve and the rest of the guys come back with a ghost in their pockets or something."
That brings a laugh to the rest of the team, and a flush of pleasure to my face at Jason's praise.
We're still huddled around the monitor when Joe returns with Tango and Steve, who look at us in surprise.
"What's happening in here?" Joe queries.
While Jason and Grant explain, I catch myself looking anxiously at Steve's face, to see his reaction. I'm not sure why his opinion matters so much to me; maybe it's because he's the biggest skeptic and the hardest one to impress. I won't blame him if he doesn't believe it at first... but he will, once he sees the evidence.
Just as I thought, Steve looks incredulous at what Grant is telling him now. His chin is tilted up, and he glances quickly from me, to Grant, to the camcorder.
Tango's eyes, meanwhile, are almost popping out of his head. "Aw, man! We need to get up there right away," he addresses Steve.
"The spirit might be a little tired. It took a lot of energy for it to answer my questions," I warn the team before they make a general mad dash for the stairs. "I did mention that some of my friends would be stopping by later, so hopefully it has enough energy to communicate again."
"We might as well go check it out," Steve says thoughtfully, giving me a look that I can't quite decipher. "You coming, Joe?"
"Wouldn't miss it," Joe says, taking a hasty swig from his water bottle before following Steve and Tango out of the room.
"The girls were just getting ready to take a look at the West Wing," Grant tells me. "Do you want to take a little break first?"
"No way," I tell him. "The way I feel right now, I could investigate for a week with no sleep!"
That earns me a chuckle. "All right, get going then," and Jason shoos us out of the room after making sure that we're equipped with cameras and flashlights. "And watch out for Summer," he calls out to Kris and Amy. "She's liable to want to live here next!"
Giggling, the three of us make tracks for the opposite side of the house.
"Man, I wonder what else will happen tonight," Amy says with sparkling eyes.