Chapter 16
Green eyes peered at him from John Gage's face, orbs that were filled with malicious intent. If he had had any qualms whatsoever about whether the last few days had been figments of his imagination, the sight of Johnny's face left absolutely no doubt. Roy shuddered and took a hasty step backwards, raising his hands instinctively.
Johnny, or Alice, laughed wickedly; when he spoke the voice was sultry, husky, and seductive and absolutely did not belong to the paramedic. "Why Roy, did you finally figure it out? Or are you still skeptical?"
Feeling every hair on his neck stand at attention, DeSoto decided bluffing or even denial was his best defense, for the moment anyways. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Chet advancing, a funny look on his face.
The blonde paramedic dropped his hands and countered the challenging words with a sneer. "What's there to figure out? The only thing I really want to know is why?"
"Why? Why indeed?" She stepped closer and DeSoto found he was unable to tear his gaze away from those hypnotic eyes. He swallowed hard, working his jaw, forcing his feet to stay in place. The long black eyelashes fluttered coquettishly as she raised her hands towards his face. "It's very simple really. People in my life have wronged me, especially the men."
Breaking free of her peculiar eyes, Roy dropped his flashlight and shot up his hands, catching her by the wrists. "So it's all about revenge then?"
He could see Chet right behind Johnny now; he kept his eyes focused straight ahead, trying not to alert Alice to the approaching man. Alice laughed again, tugging on her captive wrists a little harder.
"Of course it's all about revenge, you silly "man"." She blew out a breath of air and she was so close he could feel the chilling vapor scrape his cheek. A growl came next, deep and feral; it changed in pitch as Chet's hands closed around her neck and squeezed. Déjà vu all over again, Roy thought, as the body in front of him swayed and the arms went lax in his grip. So it HAD been Chet that laid Johnny flat in the parlor earlier, or had at least choked the spirit of Alice out of him.
Roy visibly startled when, by the eerie low light of all three flashlights flickering on the carpet, he recognized the familiar, ominous swirls of smoke. Black, shape forming coils that were even now beginning to form into that vague human shape he had encountered once before in the cemetery. Only this time, this time it was rearing its ugly mass above John and Chet, wispy tentacles breaking out and stretching searchingly across the plastered ceiling.
Feeling Gage go limp, he quickly released the wrists and instead hooked an arm about the backward falling form as Chet helped support the shoulders. They laid Johnny gently down on the rose patterned carpet; he knelt by his shoulder and checked his carotid, briefly eyeing the fingerprints once again decorating the pale skin before his attention flew back to the ceiling.
He shivered involuntarily as the air around him grew icy and the smoke thickened and grew; a horrible feeling of evil slithered from the thing and wrapped about his chest, slowly tightening. He gasped, trying to draw in a breath.
"Relax, breathe in and out very slowly, and don't fight it. I think you know the drill already." The voice came from Chet but it wasn't his voice; it was rougher, more commanding. The moment his attention shifted from the smoky mass to the man standing behind him, the iron grip released and he inhaled deeply. The being dissolved into tiny wisps of floating debris then vanished completely.
He twisted all the way around and peered up at the form of the lineman, who was regarding his nemesis (or at least Chet's pigeon) with a cocked head.
"Just who are you?" Reassured by the steady beat drumming beneath his fingers, Roy slowly stood up.
"She's getting stronger but your friend is learning how to fight her; the question is will there be enough time?" He mused, ignoring the question. He shifted his appraisal to Roy and lifted an eyebrow. "You're rather clever, aren't you?"
"Depends what you mean by that," Roy answered succinctly, unwilling to say any more than he had to. Was this Johnny's Casper or something far worse?
Chet, or whoever he was, smiled and held out his hands, palms up. "I'm Frank Baylor, Alice's husband and the one she decided to murder."
DeSoto couldn't help the surprised gasp that escaped. "You mean the one she uh…"
"Killed? Yes, that would be me all right." Frank smiled and ran a hand over his head, his face momentarily showing surprise as his fingers encountered hair. "Ah, what a wonderful thing it is to have a full head of hair again."
Roy snorted at the gesture and the words, thinking that at any other time he would have been laughing. He looked down at his prone friend and hoped Johnny would regain consciousness soon. No phones, no electric, and an impassable road out…..
As if reading his thoughts Baylor laid a hand on Roy's shoulder. "He'll be fine, like I said he was working pretty hard at expelling her; should be back with us momentarily."
"You've had a lot of experience doing this, possessing bodies I mean?" The paramedic asked, skepticism dripping off his words.
"No of course not, Chet is my one and only venture into this and he's very happy to help out."
"You mean Kelly is letting you do this…uh, that, whatever it is you're doing?"
"Certainly! Unlike Alice, I have no intention of "taking over" anyone and Mr. Kelly was most eager to help out his friend."
"That does sound like Chet…" DeSoto conceded slowly.
"He's a good guy to have as a friend, eh?"
Allowing himself a moment of levity Roy smiled. "Well, maybe so, but I was thinking more along the lines of being a willing participant in sharing his body with a ghost, er spirit, whatever you are, just for the adventure."
Thunder cracked again and Roy lost the brief moment of lightness. Even though he couldn't see it here, only brief flashes of it through the skinny windows flanking the front door, he was sure the lightning was creating a spectacular show across the sky. He swore he could feel the floor of the spacious hallway tremble under his feet as he considered his next move; he was beginning to feel like he was a costar in an Alfred Hitchcock movie or in an episode of The Twilight Zone, neither of which he wanted the dubious pleasure of being in.
Resisting the urge to stomp his foot to double check the solidness of the wood, he pulled Johnny up and slung him over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. He marched resolutely towards the stairs, Baylor keeping pace with him and trying to help. He did light the way with the flashlights which DeSoto was grateful for.
He was out of breath and panting slightly as his loafers hit the top step of the ornate staircase. He paused uncertainly not sure of which way to turn; Lopez appeared as if by magic and beckoned to him.
"Over here Roy," he called, pointing to the doorway before the one he was standing in. Roy nodded and turned left, passing a closed door and entering the next room on the same side. There were indeed two twin beds in the small but cozy room and he headed for the nearest one.
Baylor, or Chet, darted in front of him and pulled back the covers. He clumsily helped him deposit the limp form onto the bed; Roy loosened Johnny's shoes and pulled them off before drawing the pale blue sheet up over his legs and to his waist. He checked his pulse again, saw that Frank's fingerprints had already disappeared, and noted that his friend had regained most of his color back.
"What happened, Roy? Is he ok?" It was Marco asking the questions about their crew mate but it was Chet he was staring at.
"Alice again, and hopefully he'll be waking up shortly," DeSoto replied, taking in the cocked head and the puzzlement. "And this here is Frank Baylor, Alice's husband."
He pointed a finger at Kelly who responded with a little bow and then a grimace. "Sorry folks, but I have to go. Limited time and all of that but I assure you that I will return."
He loped out of the room leaving Marco with his mouth hanging open in astonishment. Johnny chose that moment to emit a long sigh and then shifted his body. His eyelids flickered and Roy jerked his head towards the departing man.
"Better go after him, Marco, and make sure Chet's ok once Baylor's done with whatever he's going to do to get out of him."
Lopez snapped his mouth closed, opened it again as if to say something, shook his head, and left at a fast trot. DeSoto shook his own head and looked down at his partner. John looked back at him with thankfully brown eyes and not green.
"Wow, did I have too much to drink?" Words slightly slurred, Johnny cleared his throat and tried again. "I mean, what happened? I feel really….strange."
He squirmed upwards, finally obtaining a sitting position once Roy released the grip he had on his wrist. He glanced about the room. "I guess we're not in Kansas, huh, Dorothy?"
"Very funny, Johnny, knock it off or I'll sic Toto after you." Roy grinned and stalked over to one of the two floor to ceiling windows. He touched the velvet drape bound back at the side and secured to the frame, marveling at the richness of the fabric. "In a nutshell, Alice took up residence again, you fought back and Chet finished her off by choking her out of you. This time you passed out so I lugged you up here."
Yanking down the sheet and swinging his feet down to the floor, Gage paused in his efforts and zeroed in on the Kelly angle. "Chet, it was Chet who strangled me the first time too?"
"Well, not exactly Chet, it was Frank Baylor." Roy took one last look outside and swung around, wanting to see John's reaction. He wasn't disappointed as the younger man screwed up his face in disbelief and leapt to his feet.
"What, Frank Baylor took over Chet? Oh man, he's my Casper isn't it?" He dropped back onto the mattress, rubbing a frustrated hand across his face. "So he's trying to help us, right?"
"I believe so…at least by what he's said and how he's acted." Roy sat down beside Johnny on the bed and regarded him with concern. "How are you feeling now, any better?"
"Confused, worried and hungover, but aside from that I'm just great." John curled a lip up and rolled his eyes. "I think those drinks Auntie Maria was pouring really did me in."
"That and some crazy spirit that's intent on possessing you for whatever reason," Roy added. "Baylor did say that you were beginning to fight her, do you remember that at all?"
Johnny put a hand to his head, squinting his eyes against the pounding. "Yeah, this time I was aware of her and made a conscious effort to kick her butt out. Not sure why the other times I couldn't."
"The first couple of "possessions" we had no idea of what was transpiring; now we know and can figure out how to get rid of her."
"Yeah, it sure helps when everyone is on the same page and believes it," Gage muttered, getting up and wandering over to the fireplace.
He scrutinized the simple but beautiful mahogany mantle and then crouched down in front of the black wrought iron fire screen. He moved it to one side and peered at the firebox. "I'm kinda cold. Do you think we can turn the gas on for this?"
"It is drafty in here; let me find out from Marco or Mrs. Torres. I probably should check on Chet anyways." Roy joined him, slapped him gently on the shoulder and left the room, surreptitiously wiping the perspiration off his forehead. The room was chilly but he had worked up a sweat hauling Johnny up the stairs.
Mrs. Torres hailed him from a doorway across from Marco's room; she held an oil lamp aloft and it cast an eerie circle of light about her. "Mr. DeSoto, is everything quite all right?"
"It's fine, ma'am," he replied simply, not really wanting to go into details.
She pursed her lips and regarded him steadily; he had a feeling there wasn't much that escaped this sharp woman's attention. "Mm, very well then, the bathroom on this end of the hallway is the last door there on your left."
Pointing a slightly bent arthritic finger, she pointed out the occupants of the other rooms. Roy made a mental note to remember who was in which room; he had no idea what else was going to happen tonight but he thought it best to be prepared. Basically, the medium was across the hall from his room, their captain across from the bathroom and next to Marco, while Stoker was on the other side of Gage and himself.
He nodded in understanding. "Thank you and I sure do appreciate your hospitality. Would it be okay to turn on the gas fireplace in our room?"
"Yes, dear boy, of course you may. That's the main source of heat up here so all the bedrooms have them and the maintenance is up to date, naturally." She laid a hand on his arm and cocked her head. "Roy..."
Her eyes darted across the hall and then to the left and to the right as she paused. "Please be careful, there's something in this house tonight I don't like."
A hard swallow and he cast his own scrutinizing look down the hall. "Something in particular that makes you uneasy, or is it a weird overall feeling?"
"Well, let's just say that there seems to be more spirits around than usual, if you'll forgive the fancies of an old woman." She patted his hand and stepped back, watching him closely. "This old house has seen its share of good times and bad; I believe some of that residue lingers and tonight it feels….it feels like it is being disturbed and not in a good way."
Roy nodded again, beginning to feel like that bobbing head, purple velvety cow JoAnne had sitting on the dash of her station wagon. "Believe me I know exactly how you feel. You should know that..."
"Shh, not now love, I know there is something going on, with the séance of course being a dead giveaway, but…" She smiled at her unintended pun, put a finger to her lips and then pointed the same finger towards Mrs. Butler's room. "Try and get some sleep, Mr. DeSoto, and I shall see you in the morning, God willing."
"Yes, okay…" he managed to stammer out as she gently closed the door on him, almost catching his nose in the process. With his mind churning with questions and possible solutions, he headed for the bathroom to take care of personal matters.
Feeling a bit better with clean teeth, face, and hands, he exited the updated bathroom. A faint light glowed from under their captain's room; he hesitated but moved on to the linemen's room. Their door was wide open and he could hear the low but excited voices emitting from within before he arrived at the entrance.
"Hey Roy come on in!" Marco beckoned him with a hand and they both turned expectant faces towards him as he cautiously strolled inside.
"How's Johnny?" They asked in unison, grinning at their synchronized question.
"He's awake, confused, and maybe a bit hungover with your Aunt's choice of beverage, Marco." Roy paused and stared at Chet, concern evident on his face.
Chet shrugged, catching the meaning of the look. "Perfectly fine Roy, in fact it was an amazing experience let me tell ya!"
"Is he coming back?" Reassured as to the mental health of Kelly as well as the excited gestures the man was currently exhibiting, Roy hoped the answer would be yes. Baylor might be able to give them the knowledge of how to expel Alice permanently.
"I suppose so, although we don't carry on a conversation, you know...it's more like his thoughts crossing mine in my brilliant brain." Kelly scratched his curly mop and scowled at his buddy, who was snickering.
Marco jabbed him with a finger. "At least you got the courtesy of being asked politely on whether you could "be possessed"; poor Johnny didn't get that option."
"True, true, plus the obvious fact that he's got a psycho "female" messing with him, whereas I got me a guy…...whew, I feel for him, I really do." Chet made a face, bounced on the bed, and turned to pick up a glass on the small table between the beds. He swirled the amber contents and tried a tentative sip. "Woo, that's good stuff!"
Roy raised an eyebrow and took a step forward, peering at the drink. "What is that exactly?"
Gesturing towards the corner, where two crystal cut decanters rested on a silver tray on top of a footstool, Chet took another sip. "Some good old Irish whiskey, Jameson maybe, Marco?"
"No clue, I'm no connoisseur with that stuff and I have no idea what Aunt Maria keeps around here. Now if you ask me about beers…."
"Chet, did you happen to find out why, ummm, Alice killed Frank?" Roy asked curiously, interrupting Marco's answer and refusing with a head shake the glass offered to him.
"Nope, like I said…"
"Yeah, I got it, not much communication between the two of you. Although, how exactly did he ask "permission" to take you over if his ghost can't really talk?"
Chet held his glass aloft and peered at the small amount residing within before he answered. "Oh, just a subconscious thing, like someone is suggesting something."
"And are you aware of what's going on when he has possession of you? What happens if he doesn't want to leave?" DeSoto pressed on, wanting to get answers that he could use to assist his partner.
"In a weird, detached sorta way I am, and we have a deal that when I want him out, I give him a kick, so to speak." Chet grinned, pleased with his answer. "Is that going to help you out any Roy? With Gage I mean."
"I'm not sure; maybe I should just have him talk to you instead of playing the middleman. Well, thanks, I need to go check on him and catch some sleep. You guys going to stay up awhile longer?" Roy paused at the door, reluctant to leave the cozy atmosphere of the room.
The fireplace remained off, yet the space was warm. One of them had untied the heavy drapes and let them fall; the noise and light of the raging storm outside was muted. The room was identical in size and décor to that of his and Johnny's, but yet the ambiance was different somehow. Taking a deep breath, Roy gave a little wave and left.
Mrs. Torre's door across the hall was still firmly shut but he noted that Mrs. Butler's was slightly ajar, as if she was standing there and observing the hallway or perhaps trying to peek into their room. He ignored it, noted that further down Mike Stoker's door was shut, and entered his room firmly closing the door behind him.
He stopped just short of falling over Johnny, who was sitting cross legged on the floor in front of the cold fireplace. The room was dimly lit by two oil lamps sitting above his head on the mantle; in the glow Roy could see that his friend had his eyes closed but his posture was tense. A tray identical to the one in the linemen's room sat by Johnny's knee and held a dirty, empty glass as well as a clean one.
"Johnny?" His voice was cautious as he sat down next to his friend and pulled off his shoes. He set them aside and poured a finger of whiskey into the clean glass, topping it off with a splash of water. "We can turn on the fireplace."
Gage turned his head and looked at him, seemingly surprised at his entrance. His tone was tired and dull when he replied with a simple "okay", and Roy wondered how long he had been sitting there lost in his thoughts.
Several minutes passed as the older man busied himself with adding some warmth to the room while John observed but made no effort to help or contribute to the flow of frivolous chatter that DeSoto attempted. Finally satisfied with the heat output, Roy sat back down and sipped at his drink. It went down smooth and he lifted his glass in silent salute to Marco's aunt.
"Chet was right, this is very good whiskey."
A confused stare and then Johnny seemed to shake off the lethargy that was plaguing him. He nodded and poured a generous draught into his own glass, not bothering with the water. He held his free hand out to the cheery warmth and remained silent for a moment before setting the glass down carefully on the narrow hearth.
"Did you talk to Chet?" He flinched as another crack of thunder overwhelmed the room with its intensity; the lightning that had preceded it a second earlier had lit the room with dazzling brilliance. "That one was pretty close."
Roy got up and went over to one of the windows. He untied the cord binding the drape back and let it fall over the darkness and slashing rain. He told Gage of his conversation with Chet as he repeated the process on the other window; returning to his position on the floor he rubbed his hands together briskly. Even with the fireplace going, the door closed, and now the drapes insulating the old windows, the room still felt glacial and hostile.
"So, there's hope for me after all?" Johnny quipped before swallowing half the contents of his glass in one long gulp. He burped rudely and patted his stomach before setting it back down.
"Somehow I doubt that," Roy deadpanned. He was unable to hold the serious expression for more than a couple of seconds though when Johnny giggled, drink obviously lifting his pensive mood.
"Maybe he, Baylor I mean, will know why his crazy spouse chose me to pick on, too," Johnny said, no longer laughing but at least he was smiling. He stood up, wobbling a bit, and pulled out his tucked in shirts. He rolled down the sleeves of his dress shirt before unbuttoning it and pulling it off, draping it carefully on the back of the lone chair in the room. "Where's the bathroom?"
"Last door on the left," Roy answered, pointing. Gage nodded and padded quietly out, pulling the door almost closed behind him.
Feeling the warmth of the drink DeSoto got to his feet with glass in hand and moved between the two beds. He set the whiskey down on the white lacy scarf that covered the entire surface of the wood night stand and pulled down the covers to his bed. He paused, noting the hard-bound books lining the bottom shelf of the stand. He perused the titles using his flashlight, selected one, and tossed it on the bed with a wide grin. Lighting was next; he lit the large, gaily decorated lamp also residing on the table.
Five minutes later he was tucked up in bed with the tome distracting him somewhat from the ferocity of the wind howling and whipping against the windows. That part of the tempest has dissipated since they had arrived upstairs but was now resuming its previous intensity. To make it worst, a branch from a nearby tree was whacking a steady rhythm against the clapboard siding right outside.
The door slowly opening caught his attention and he looked over, waiting for Johnny to make an appearance. A long minute crept by without any further movement; he sat up straighter from his semi reclined position against the comfortable pile of pillows and laid the book down, marking his spot with his index finger. A hand finally made an appearance on the polished wood of the door, followed by a bare arm, and then the t-shirted shoulder of his friend. Johnny's head was turned, however, and looking towards the medium's door.
DeSoto exhaled a relieved sigh and waited impatiently for the rest of the lanky man to appear. Something sure had Gage's attention and he had a feeling that it wasn't a good thing.
The rest of the medic ebbed into the room; John closed the door softly behind him and turned the old-fashioned skeleton key in the lock. He pulled it out, scrutinized it with doubt, and laid it on the fireplace mantel.
"What was out there that was so interesting?" Roy queried, jerking his head towards the hallway.
"Not sure," he replied tersely, turning down one lamp until the wick was extinguished, and doing the same to the other. "I thought it was a noise coming from Mrs. Butler's room, but I'm not sure."
He turned and looked at Roy, an easy smile appearing when he saw the book laying on his lap. "Hey, what'cha reading?"
DeSoto returned the smile and picked up the book with the cover facing outwards. John took one long step and read the words etched on the front. "Hey, Call of the Wild, what a great book! Did you overhear Mrs. Torres talking about Jack London?"
"Yeah, I did. Found it, there," he pointed to the bedside table. "I've read it but wanted to check it out again."
He paused and set the book back down as Johnny squatted down on his socked feet and checked out the other books. "Exactly what kind of noise did you hear?"
Johnny lifted his shaggy head and regarded Roy with a pained expression. "Overactive imagination is what I'm inclined to believe."
He pulled out a book, studied its leather-bound cover, and held it out for Roy to see.
"You can't be serious!" Roy exclaimed. "Bram Stoker's Dracula?"
"Sure, why not? My brain is already in overdrive about everything, so what's this gonna do?" He shrugged carelessly and tossed the book on his bed but the tone of his voice convinced Roy that everything he had just said and did was a lie.
"What is it?" He asked carefully as his partner went over to the other side, stripped off his pants, and added them to the clothes pile on the back of the chair. Johnny crawled under the covers, rubbing his stomach and grimacing as his hand encountered the still tender flesh from being dragged across a wood floor and over the sharp edges of the dumbwaiter shaft.
He pulled the sheet and blanket up leaving the silky white spread at his feet, for now anyways. Running his fingers over the tooled leather, he swallowed hard. "I've gotta admit, Roy, I'm scared."
Roy's eyebrows shot up to his hairline; he hadn't expected the words or the brute honesty in which they had been delivered, especially after Gage's actions a moment ago. "I have to admit I'm feeling the same way myself, and for you it has to be a million times worse."
A grateful grin flashed his way as Johnny slouched downwards into the comforting cocoon of linen and fluff. "Yeah, well, we're not supposed to say crap like that, are we? And just what the hell is THAT noise?"
Opening his book to the finger marked page, Roy looked at the words which were dimmer now that Gage had turned off two of the three light sources. He worried his lip for a moment and closed his eyes briefly. "A branch hitting the house, that's all. What was the noise you heard in the hallway?"
An annoyed snort met his question. "I told you, nothing, just me imagining things."
"I don't think so...nothing that has happened here or in the last couple of days, whether imagined or not, should be discounted, okay?"
"Okay Dr. Freud, you have me sitting on the edge of my seat, er, bed. All I heard was that woman talking, and no one was answering her. And right now, I wish I had a saw to hack off that branch!" Johnny popped out of the bed and stomped to the window. He drew back the curtains and stared out. "Well, there's one thing I can take care of tonight, and no screen so it will be easier."
He unlocked and tugged up the window. Stretching precariously out, he lunged and twisted. Roy heard a sharp crack as Johnny grabbed the offending branch and snapped it. He pulled himself back in and using his weight pushed the window back down and turned the lock in place. He turned triumphantly to his friend, brandishing the thin, broken off stick like a sword. "Touché!"
"I appreciate it, although you may be regretting the act when your adrenaline fades," Roy remarked, looking at Gage's soaked t-shirt and dripping face and hair.
"Huh?" Johnny looked down and curled his lip up in disgust. He stared at the branch still clutched in his wet hand and shrugged. "It was worth it."
He propped the branch against the wall and pulling off the wet shirt, used it to dry his head and hands. Shivering as the still cool air of the room hit his bare skin, he dived back into his bed and yanked the covers up to his chin.
"How come it's still so cold in here?" He queried between chattering teeth, staring accusingly at the fire.
Roy, who had picked up his book, again, sighed and lifted his eyes from the page. "Not sure, it's on as high as it will go. You going to need more light to read by?"
"Nah, I've got backup here," the younger man explained, reaching under his covers and pulling out a flashlight. He leaned forward and pulled up the bedspread. "Maybe there's a draft in here or something..."
"Or something…." DeSoto wisecracked, already engrossed in the Klondike tale and trying his best to relax.
Safely snuggled under his pile of linen, Johnny rotated his head slowly and searched the room with his eyes. Satisfied that there was nothing lurking in the corners, he picked up his horror tale and turned to the first page.
~eeeEEEeee~
Several hours later the paramedics were asleep; Roy on his left side and Johnny on his back, arm slung across his eyes. The storm continued its relentless pounding outside although the thunder and lightning part of it had finally ceased.
Johnny awoke with a start, heart pounding and head swimming in confusion. Sitting up slowly, he glanced about trying to orient himself and figure out what had startled him from a deep, dream filled sleep. Nothing was obvious, as the door to the room was still closed and he had become so used to the din of the rain and wind it had actually lulled him into sleep. And the dream he had been having had been pleasant even though it had involved vampires; they had all been female bloodsuckers very eager to make his acquaintance.
He remained quiet for a moment, licking his lips and swallowing to try and rid himself of a seriously dry mouth. A bit too much drink but it had seemed like a good idea at the time and if he was being perfectly honest, he'd do it again. The last few days had been filled with uncertainty, worry, and just plain disbelief. For a little while the alcohol had helped him, if not completely forget, at least push those emotions into a dark corner of his mind. Of course, it had also given him the strength to admit to his friend that he was scared, something he could never recall telling anyone.
Johnny shrugged away the uneasy feeling that something had interrupted his fanged dreams and decided to use the facilities; hopefully he would be able to catch a few more hours of sleep. Using the flashlight for illumination, he struggled into his pants and fished his long sleeve shirt out from the bottom of the" draped over chair" pile he had started hours earlier. The t-shirt, slung over the arm of the makeshift clothes horse, was still damp.
The door key in one hand and the flashlight in the other, he quietly unlocked the solid wood door and left the key sticking out of the lock. He looked in both directions before venturing out into the wide hallway. He supposed if the electric was working the long expanse of polished wood floors with plush rugs and the white painted walls with oil paintings and decorative sconces adorning them would be pleasant even in the hours after midnight; right now, however, the whole area reminded him of a scene in a horror movie. The flashlight cast flickering shadows, giving rise to grotesque shapes lurking along the walls. Strange little noises came at him from all directions sounding like hundreds of tiny sharp feet while the air seemed to be eddying around him in swirls, pushing him one way and then the other. He resisted the very strong impulse to sprint but picked up his pace and burst into the bathroom, his momentum almost carrying him headfirst into the huge claw footed tub. He steadied himself on the cold porcelain edge, whipped about, and closed the door.
Cold lapped at his bare feet and he looked down, expecting to see his good buddy Alice spiraling up from the depths of hell. It was only the chill of the black and white tile floor, however, stinging the bottoms of his feet. He hadn't noticed the coolness earlier because of his socks; shining his flashlight around he noted the lack of any kind of heating in the room. Probably wouldn't need it for ninety percent of the time in this area, but he guessed there would be unusually cold nights like this where it would be welcomed.
Finishing his business, he cracked open the door and peered suspiciously through the narrow gap. Silence greeted him but he had a bad feeling that as soon he entered into that rectangular space things were going to go downhill quick. John sucked in a deep breath and planted the first foot into the abyss.
The hallway remained still as he lightly trod to their door; his relieved grin remaining in place as he slid through the opening he created. The smile disappeared when his questing hand did not encounter the key. Leaning a shoulder against the door, the paramedic's uneasiness grew as searching fingers could not locate it. He dropped down on a knee and flashed his light over the floor, running fingers over the floorboard joints and lifting the edge of the huge rug that covered most of their floor.
The simple key was nowhere to be found. He climbed to his feet, held his splayed hand over the torch to diffuse and nervously played it over the room. It appeared to be the same as when he had left it and Roy was still gently snoring in the same position. As Johnny studied the room, however, he could feel apprehension crawling over him. The thick draperies that had given the impression earlier of safety and warmth now appeared menacing, weighted down with dust and mockery. Even the cheery fire that had leant a bit of warmth to the area that curiously continued to have currents of glacial air rushing through, was flickering with odd colors of green and blue.
And now, now the heavy silence was broken by a faint scratching at the window in front of him. A sound that reminded him of a woman's fingernails scraping…
Narrowing his eyes, Johnny shook himself out of his frozen stance and plunged forward, thinking now would be a good time for Chet Kelly to make an appearance and either laugh away their fears, or produce Mr. Frank Baylor and do, do something. Right now, he had no idea what the what was, but it was time to somehow finish it.
In his peripheral vision, he noticed Roy suddenly jerk upright and whip his head in his direction. He ignored him and grabbed handfuls of the plush, suffocating velvet, yanking it roughly aside as the shrill fingernails against chalkboard reverberated throughout the bedroom and grew in volume. The icy spikes of rain nailed against his body as he snapped the lock open and flung up the window; leaning out he realized he may have just made his last mistake in life as he felt his feet leaving the floor. He flung out his arms, grasping desperately for something to hold on to as he shot headfirst into the menacing night, Roy's scream accompanying him on his unwanted flight…...
~TBC~