Ghost Town (24 page)

The director started to answer Erin's question, coughed a couple of times, and asked one of his staff for a bottle of water from the snack bar. Everyone waited while the water was fetched, and the director took a long drink before capping the bottle and setting it down on the circulation counter.

“OK,” he said, “I'm ready.”

He didn't look ready to Drew. He looked more as if he might throw up any moment. But Erin nodded and repeated her question.

The director cleared his throat and began speaking. “Exeter State Prison used to stand on what are now the campus grounds. In
fact, this very library supposedly rests on the site where the prison gallows once stood. The prison was damaged during the flood in the 1920s, and the buildings were demolished afterward. The land remained empty for a number of years until construction began on the college in the late 1950s.”

The director relaxed the more he spoke, and Erin was clearly relieved. “What happened to the prisoners during the flood?” she asked.

“The least dangerous ones were released by the guards. But the worst ones—the murderers, rapists, and the like—were left behind. The prison staff didn't have the manpower to guard so many men, and the warden didn't want to risk unleashing such violent offenders on society. Not a very humanitarian choice, but the floodwaters rose quickly back then, and there was little time. The prison staff vacated the buildings, and when the waters flooded the prison, those left behind were trapped in their cells and drowned.”

“How awful,” Erin said, although her pleased expression told how she really felt.

“Afterward, the land was reputed to be cursed, which was why it remained vacant for so long. Eventually, people forgot about the curse, or at least, they didn't take the rumors seriously anymore, and plans were made for constructing the college.”

“But it wasn't long before people began reporting paranormal activity on campus,” Erin said.

“True. Over the years, students, faculty, and staff have reported stories of invisible hands touching them, sinister laughter coming from nowhere, the sound of footsteps echoing when no one is present, doors slamming shut, elevators working on their own . . . In fact, there have been so many reports over the years that during Dead Days, we conduct ghost tours around campus.”

“So, like the rest of the town, the college has embraced its reputation for the paranormal.”

“Yes, especially during the Dead Days celebration. It's all in
good fun, of course, but it does present educational opportunities, too. Many professors present units on the history of the town—the flood and the prison in particular—and the science faculty discuss the scientific method and compare it with the pseudoscientific approach of the psychics and mediums who flocked to the town after the flood.” He glanced at Trevor and Carrington. “Uh, no offense.”

Ray swung his camera around to capture any reactions Trevor or Carrington might have, but neither man seemed to be paying attention.

“EMF readings are rising,” Trevor said. “Fast.” He looked up at Drew. “This isn't good.”

“It's getting colder,” Amber said. “Can't you feel it?”

Drew did. It felt as if someone had turned the air conditioning up full blast, except that there was no breeze.

“Well, I'm not picking anything up on this,” Carrington said. He lowered the infrared thermal scanner and smacked it on the side. “Then again, maybe I'm not operating the damned thing correctly. I never did read the instructions.”

Connie was gazing toward the skylight. “Point it upward,” she said.

Carrington frowned at her, but he did as she suggested. And when he peered into the device's visual display, he gasped. “There are cold spots—dozens of them—circling above us. I've never seen anything like it!”

“We need to get these people out of here,” Amber said. “Now.”

Drew had no idea what was happening, but he didn't hesitate. “Listen up, everyone! We need to evacuate the library immediately!”

The director looked at Erin. “I'm confused. Is this some sort of improv?”

Erin paid him no further attention. “Point the camera up!” she shouted at Ray.

The students and staff looked at one another, unsure what was happening and what, if anything, to do about it. Several students thought it was a joke and began laughing. One of them called out, “We're all gonna die!”

Connie sighed. “I really wish you hadn't said that.”

One instant the air above them was empty, and the next it was filled with circling shapes. They were human—or at least humanlike—all wearing long-sleeved gray shirts and gray pants, although their feet were bare. From their basic physical forms, Drew assumed they were male, but given the state of their bodies, it was difficult to know for sure. Their skin had sloughed away in numerous places, revealing bleached bone, and what skin remained was blanched, swollen, and wrinkled. They moved slowly through the air, arms stroking and legs kicking as if they were swimming.

“It's the prisoners!” Amber said. “The ones who drowned!”

The students and staff just stared at the apparitions circling like ghostly sharks through the air above them. But then one of the students let out a whoop, another yelled, “Awesome!” and everyone began to applaud.

“They think it's some kind of special effect,” Drew said. “A Dead Days surprise.”

“It's going to be a surprise, all right,” Connie said. “A nasty, bloody one if we don't get these idiots out of here!”

Erin was grinning like a kid on Christmas Day. “Don't you miss a single second of this, Ray!”

Ray had his camera pointed toward the floating specters, but he didn't look happy about it. “Erin, this is
way
more intense than some words scratched into walls!”

“Don't I know it!”

“I don't mean that in a good way,” he said. “I mean it in an I-hope-we-all-don't-die way!”

Sarah and Pattie also looked scared. Sarah still had hold of the boom mic, but she didn't seem to know where to direct it. Her eyes
kept darting back and forth as the ghosts swam through the air above. Pattie stood close to her, one hand on Sarah's shoulder, looking upward with wide eyes, lips moving silently. Drew wondered if she was saying a prayer.

Carrington stepped forward. “There's no need to panic!” he said in a loud, authoritative voice. “These apparitions have no physical substance, and therefore they cannot hurt you!”

“Tell that to Tonya and those two people in the museum,” Trevor said, but Carrington ignored him.

A young woman in the crowd who was dressed as the Bride of Frankenstein, complete with towering hairdo, stretched her hand above her head as one of the ghosts swam near.

“This is so cool!” she said. “I wonder how they—”

One of the prisoners swam down toward her and wrapped fingers that were half bone and half rotting flesh around the woman's wrist. His eyes bulged from their sockets, and his wrinkled worm lips were pulled back to reveal a mouthful of jagged yellow teeth. There was hunger in his gaze, and he grinned in savage delight as he swam upward, pulling the screaming woman off her feet and into the air along with him.

Erin clapped her hands together and actually jumped up and down in excitement. Ray shouted, “Fuck me!” but continued filming. Sarah dropped the boom mic and turned, sobbing, toward Pattie. The older woman embraced her lover but could not take her eyes off the spectacle of the girl being carried aloft by a grinning corpse.

Without thinking, Drew ran forward and jumped, making a grab for the girl's legs. He missed the left one but managed to get his fingers around her right ankle. As he started to fall, his arm jerked, and for an instant, he feared that the ghost was strong enough to carry both of them aloft. But then he plummeted to the floor, dragging the girl down with him. He landed hard on his right side, pain flaring in his chest. He had bruised a rib or two for sure, maybe
even broken them. But he wasn't concerned about himself; he was worried about the girl. She had hit the floor pretty hard, too, and she might need medical attention.

He pushed himself up to a sitting position, breathing shallowly to keep his ribs from hurting any more than they already did. And if he had broken any, the last thing he needed right then was to puncture a lung. The girl was lying facedown on the floor, and in her Bride of Frankenstein costume, she looked as if this were the ending scene of a horror movie, in which the Bride had been slain and would return to the grave to await resurrection in a sequel. The girl lay completely still, and Drew couldn't tell if she was breathing. He scooted forward, intending to check her pulse, but he caught a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned to see a ghost swimming through the air toward him. He thought it might be the same one that had tried to abduct the girl, but he couldn't be sure, and he supposed it really didn't matter. One murderous apparition could kill him as easily as another. And if the ghosts possessed enough physical reality to grab hold of a person and pull her into the air, they surely were solid enough to kill someone.

Drew steeled himself to meet the specter's attack, although he had no idea how to fight the damned thing. But as the airborne corpse came toward him, bone-claws reaching out, eager to find purchase in his flesh, Connie stepped forward, raised her foot, and kicked, slamming the point of her shoe into the ghost's head. The heel broke through the creature's skull and sank into its rotten brain. Watery black goo dribbled forth from the wound, and while the ghost appeared to suffer no pain from the blow, it veered off its attack and swam upward, taking Connie's shoe with it. As her shoe popped off, she almost lost her balance, but she hopped a couple of times in place and managed to keep from falling over.

“I didn't know high heels could be so useful,” she said as she watched the ghost ascend.

Amber rushed to Drew's side and helped him to his feet. “Are you all right?” she asked.

“I'll live,” he said. The right side of his chest felt as if it were on fire, but he didn't think he was in need of immediate medical attention. Besides, he had more important things to worry about right then than a couple of bruised ribs.

Connie kicked off her remaining shoe and helped the Bride of Frankenstein to stand. The girl looked as if she'd had the breath knocked out of her, and she would probably have some hellacious bruising the next day, but she appeared well enough. Assuming the ghost that had tried to carry her away didn't make another try for her.

The ghosts—a dozen or more—swarmed the library atrium, moving through the air with eerie, silent grace as they targeted people. Some tried to grab hold of their victims and lift them into the air, while others fell upon them, clawing and biting. Those who were attacked screamed in pain and fear, and the rest of the crowd—who up to this point had been standing around, unsure what was happening—finally figured out that they were in danger and ran for the exits, shouting and sobbing.

“Keep running!” Trevor shouted. “Get as far away from the library as you can!”

“That means you, too, missy.” Connie gave the Bride a push, and she staggered off in the direction of an exit. Connie turned to Trevor. “You figure the manifestation is confined to this location?”

He nodded. “It has to be the Dark Lady's doing. She's here somewhere. If we can find her—” Trevor broke off as a ghost swooped down and made a grab for him. He ducked, but the flying corpse managed to snag a handful of his hair before it arced up and away. He cried out as the ghost tore the hair from his scalp and swam off, waving the strands around as if they were a trophy.

Trevor swore and clapped a hand to the small bloody patch of
skin on his head. “That's dirty pool! I have little enough hair left as it is!”

Two other ghosts came toward them. One was long and lean, a flesh-covered skeleton in a gray prison uniform, while the other was short and squat, eye sockets empty, skin covered with fissures as if it were molting. They glided through the air like sharks on the hunt, and Drew wondered if, like sharks, they were drawn by the scent of Trevor's blood.

“Chairs!” he shouted, and Trevor nodded. The four of them ran to the snack area, and Drew and Trevor each grabbed one of the hard black plastic chairs and raised them as the ghosts approached.

“Get behind us!” he told Amber and Connie.

“As if,” Amber said. She grabbed a chair, and so did Connie.

The skeleton ghost swooped in first, making for Trevor. Trevor swung his makeshift weapon at the creature and struck a solid blow to its head. The apparitions might be spirits, but Drew was gratified to see that they possessed enough physical substance to hit. Teeth flew from the skeleton's mouth, and Drew watched in fascination as they faded to nothing, as if they couldn't maintain their existence without a connection to the ghost's body. In response, the skeleton veered off, although Drew doubted that Trevor's blow had done it any real harm.

The eyeless one moved in next. It headed for Amber, but Drew stepped in front of it, raised his chair high, and brought it crashing down on the ghost's head. The impact sent jolts of pain up Drew's arms, and fiery pain flared anew in his ribs. The eyeless ghost hit the floor, and Amber and Connie stepped forward and began pounding it with their chairs. The ghost thrashed and struggled to rise, but the women didn't let up. They hit it over and over again, each blow knocking off chunks of bloodless white flesh that quickly faded away. The women kept at it, meat sliding off the creature's bones as if off a well-cooked chicken. Soon the main body of the ghost began to fade, and it was gone.

Panting for breath, skin slick with sweat, Amber and Connie put their chairs down and gulped air.

“That was hard-core!” Trevor said.

Drew agreed, but before he could say anything, the skeleton ghost swung back around for a second attack.