The Haunting of Pitmon House (5 page)

She dropped from the River, and as she felt the sharp prick
of pain at the base of her skull, she heard the sound of the riverboat return
to the out-of-tune cacophony that it normally produced.

The exit to the next section was at her left, and she took
it, shaken, wanting to put distance between herself and the entity she’d seen
on the riverboat. His stare was now emblazoned in her mind; she knew she’d have
nightmares in the future, and would have to find a way to exorcise that look
from her memory.

Not just the stare,
she thought.
His delight. His sheer delight at the pain
he was causing.

My God!
she suddenly thought.
Was that the cause of Shane’s condition? That
grinning, evil apparition on the riverboat?

Between the image from the barn last night and the demonic
figure on the riverboat, she was beginning to feel frightened. She realized there
were inexplicable things around her that she couldn’t control. She hated the
feeling. Her whole life she’d always been in control; even after her father’s
death she felt she’d managed to keep things relatively normal and on track. What
she’d seen since entering the River two days were disorienting and unnerving.
It felt like upheaval, and it scared her.

How much more of this stuff is there?
she wondered.

She made her way to an office where she could make a phone
call and check in on Shane, and afterward, slowly walked back to the gift shop.

●

“I told you so,” Rachel said, taking a drag on her cigarette.
“And that’s not the half of it. You should see the circus displays. Tons of
haunted stuff in there.”

“He stared right at me,” Eliza replied, remembering the
creature on the riverboat. “When he saw that I was paying attention, he
deliberately made things worse, as though he was torturing me.”

“Sick fucker enjoys it,” Rachel said, tamping out her
cigarette. “I’ve seen him before. He gets off on making people uncomfortable.”

“What is he, exactly?” Eliza asked.

Rachel looked at her, surprised. “A ghost, you idiot!” she
said, pursing her lips. “What did you think?”

“I always thought of ghosts as…as…” she stammered, trying to
come up with the right words.

“As white smears on fuzzy photographs?” Rachel replied. “Or
as imagined sounds on some TV show?”

“Well, yes,” Eliza answered. “Kinda like UFOs. You hear about
them, and there are hints, but you never really see one.”

“We do,” Rachel replied. “That’s what the gift is all about.
Seeing things other people can’t see. I can’t believe you’re gifted and that’s
the first time you’ve actually seen a ghost.”

“Well,” Eliza said, “I hadn’t really been using it, like I
said.”

“I can feel them,” Rachel replied, “even when I’m not in the
River. This whole place is full of them.” She waved her arm in the air,
motioning to the buildings of The House on the Rock. “God love him, but Alex
Jordan didn’t have a clue what kind of bad mojo he collected here. You saw a
few things in the Street of Yesterday, but that’s just a fraction of all the
haunted stuff in there. You should see the other machines, The Blue Room. The
Franz Josef. And then there’s The Organ Room. All full of ghosts and other
weird shit.”

“You’ve seen them all?”

“I don’t have to. I can sense them, just walking through. I
stay out of the River while I’m in there. I don’t want to see what they
actually are.”

“Well, if
you
don’t drop in there, why’d you have me
do it?”

“To prove to you that what I’m telling you is the truth! Do
you believe me now?”

“Yeah,” Eliza said, remembering the glow of the displays and
the eyes of the dolls. “I do. What do we do about it?”

“If your brother was attacked by one of those things,” Rachel
said, “we need to discover what it was so we can try to reverse it.”

“You have some kind of antidote?” Eliza asked. “Like a potion
he can take?”

“That might be one of the options,” Rachel replied, “but we’d
be stabbing in the dark. The solution has to be tailored to the problem, or it
can wind up causing more trouble. Each one of those ghosts and haunted objects
in there is unique, and is capable of causing unique damage. We have to know
which one we’re dealing with first.”

“How are we going to know that?”

“There are ways,” Rachel said, her eyes moving back and forth
as she contemplated options. Eliza could see that the challenge was
invigorating and exciting her in a way she’d never seen Rachel behave; driven
and focused. “Once we know which one attacked your brother, we do research on
it. Then we’ll know what we’re up against.”

Eliza sighed. “Sounds complicated.”

“Would have been a lot less complicated if I hadn’t sold all
my stuff,” Rachel replied. “We need my Tapura.”

“Tapura?” Eliza repeated.

“It’s like my lip balm,” Rachel replied. “It’s an object that
looks different in the River. I used to have one.”

“How would that help?”

“It was a signature matcher,” Rachel replied.

“A signature matcher?” Eliza shook her head, confused.

“Every one of the objects in there — and most of the ghosts —
put off a signature,” Rachel said. “My Tapura captures the signatures so you
can compare them.”

“So how does that help?”

“We go see your brother in the hospital,” Rachel explained,
“and we let it capture whatever signature is coming off him right now. Then we
bring it back here, and it will tell us which object or ghost matches. Then
we’ll know exactly what to target. Come on,” she stood, “we better get back.
Lois has probably shit enough bricks to build the Great Wall of China.”

Eliza stood and followed Rachel as they walked back to the
gift shop. “If you sold your…your…”

“Tapura,” Rachel offered.

“Yes, your Tapura, how are we going to get one?”

“From the asshole I sold it to,” Rachel replied.

The next morning they wound their way through a subdivision
of Rockford, ending at a cul de sac. Eliza drove, as Rachel’s car was barely
able to get her to work and back, and too unreliable for the trip. Rachel
directed her to park in front of a two-story brick home.

“This is it,” Rachel said, getting out of the car. “He’s a
prick, so just let me do the talking.”

They walked toward the house; the grass was long and weeds
had invaded the plant beds under the windows. Homes on either side showed signs
of children; abandoned ridable plastic trucks and bright yellow tennis balls
peppered the lawn, but the house they were approaching appeared lifeless and
sterile. It made Eliza feel a little cold.

Rachel knocked on the door. It opened, revealing an older
woman with thick-lens glasses. Her brow was furrowed. She looked stern.

“No soliciting!” the woman barked, and closed the door.

Rachel turned to Eliza. “Hold onto your hat.” She knocked
again.

The woman returned. “Do I have to call the cops?” she asked,
her voice dripping with threat.

“I need to see Jack,” Rachel replied.

“Doesn’t mean he needs to see you,” the woman replied,
closing the door. This time Rachel had her foot ready. As the woman slammed it
into her shoe, Rachel winced.

“Remove your foot, or I will!” the woman hissed, her glasses
beginning to slide down her nose from the weight of the lenses.

“I’m here for his benefit!” Rachel replied. “He’ll want to
see me.”

“I highly doubt that,” the woman replied, shoving the door
harder into Rachel’s foot.

“There’s a problem he needs to be aware of,” Rachel said,
pushing back on the door. “Life and death, potentially.”

Eliza could see the door ease off, and the angry look on the
woman’s face cracked a little, revealing concern. “Life and death?” she asked
suspiciously.

“Let me talk to Jack,” Rachel said. “You won’t understand
what I have to say. He will.”

“He’s not…” the woman started, then paused. She pushed her
glasses back up her nose.

“Yes?” Rachel asked.

“He’s not the same as he used to be,” she finished. “He’s
changed…somewhat.”

“I don’t care,” Rachel answered. “There’s a problem with one
of the things I sold him that he needs to be aware of.”

“Hmmf,” the woman snorted. “Who’s this?” she said, opening
the door a little, staring at Eliza.

“My friend, here to make sure I get out of here alive.”

Another “hmmf” erupted from the woman, and she opened the
door to let them in.

Eliza noticed the smell of spices; dozens of them, a potent
combination of garlic, turmeric, and saffron, hanging in the air like a thick
fog. She resisted the temptation to cough.

The woman shut the door behind them. “He’s downstairs,” she
said, leading them through the dark house. “I warn you, he’s different.”

She passed through the kitchen to a stairwell, stopping to
grab a flashlight. They descended. The stairs opened into a large, unfinished
basement. Windows had been blacked out, and as the woman’s flashlight bobbed
through the room, Eliza could see several tables scattered along the walls,
filled with papers and objects.

“Come back this way,” the woman said. “He stays back here.
Doesn’t like the light, but I have to use something to see.”

The woman kept her light pointed down at the ground as they
walked over the cement flooring, not raising it up to point in the direction
they were walking. She stopped when they reached the far end, and Eliza tried
to make out what was in front of them; slowly the ambient light revealed Jack.

He was sitting in a large padded chair. He had no hair, and
the skin of his head was mottled, covered in green patches that looked
infected. When she looked down, at first she thought his left arm and leg were
missing, but then she realized that they were there, just covered in something
that made them appear to be gone; it was a greyish ooze that occasionally
caught the light from the woman’s flashlight, turning translucent, exposing red
veins inside. His right side appeared fine. He was naked, and made no attempt
to hide his genitals from the women. When he looked at Eliza, she felt a chill;
his eyes were yellow.

“Yes?” he spoke, his voice raspy.

“What are you doing?” Rachel asked, surprised at his
appearance. “Seriously?”

“None of your business,” he replied weakly.

“Last time I saw you,” Rachel said, “you looked completely
normal. Now you’re all fucked up! What happened?”

“I said it’s none of your goddamn business!” Jack replied,
barely able to raise his voice. “You wouldn’t understand anyway.”

“Try me.”

“No desire to.”

“Fine. Whatever. I’m here to warn you about a couple of the
things I sold you.”

“Warn?” Jack replied, looking down at his arm.

“I recently discovered some information,” Rachel said, “and I
thought I should give you a heads up.”

“You assured me all of your items were safe,” Jack replied.

“Well, it’s technically the buyer’s responsibility to clear
everything,” Rachel said. “I can only tell you what I know.”

“Which is what?” he asked.

“I think there’s a problem with the valerian cup,” she
answered. “And maybe the Tapura.”

“What kind of problem?” Jack asked.

“The cup might be tainted,” Rachel replied. “The person I got
it from said it was 100% clean, but we were out late drinking the other night,
and she admitted to me that she always claimed that stuff was OK when she sold
people things, even though she was never sure if it really was.”

“She admitted this to you?” the woman asked.

“She knew I had sold all my objects, so I think she thought
it wouldn’t matter,” Rachel replied. “However, I thought I should let you
know.”

“And the Tapura?” Jack asked.

“I have reason to believe it’s miscalibrated, and throws off
an occasional bad read,” Rachel said.

“Miscalibrated?” Jack replied, becoming angry. “How can it be
miscalibrated?”

“It’s a technical thing I don’t quite understand,” Rachel
replied, “but I was talking to a friend of mine who’s an expert in patterns,
and he mentioned that they can often be miscalibrated. I had no idea. I don’t
even know how you calibrate the damn thing in the first place.”

“How do I know you’re telling me the truth?” Jack asked.
“What friend?”

“Dixon,” Rachel replied. “You can ask him yourself if you
want.”

“Dixon,” Jack repeated. “No, if Dixon said that, I believe
it.”

“So when he told me about it, I began to think through some
of the times I’d used it, and sure enough, there were one or two instances
where things were a little off, and it made me think that it might be
miscalibrated, like he said.”

“Damn it, woman! I used that Tapura for this!” he said,
looking down at his arm. Eliza stared at it a little more closely, seeing
movement within the goop; what she had mistaken for veins now appeared to be
long thin creatures, slithering within it.

“What are you trying to do?” Eliza asked.

“I told you, it’s none of your business!” Jack spat back. He
turned to Rachel. “Who is this, anyway?”

“Friend of mine,” Rachel said. “Here for backup in case you
get out of hand. I didn’t know how you’d react to the news.”

“You need to make this right!” the woman said, stepping
between them. “He’s been like this for weeks. If you sold him bad equipment, I
hold you responsible! We’ll sue! We’ll dig up hounds and send them after you!”

“There’s nothing I can do about the cup,” Rachel replied. “Have
it tested and see. If it’s tainted, you might as well throw it out.”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass about the cup!” Jack said
dismissively. “It’s your miscalibrated Tapura that angers me. If it’s
responsible for the stall I’m experiencing, I’ll have your neck when I get out
of this!”

“Now, now,” Rachel said. “No need to threaten. I’m here
letting you know as soon as I found out about it. I think I’m acting in good
faith, trying to do right by you. I want my reputation to remain solid. Dixon
did mention a way to recalibrate the Tapura.”

“How?” Jack asked.

“Way over my head,” Rachel replied. “You’d have to have an
expert like him do it. But…” She paused.

“What?” Jack asked.

“He did offer to recalibrate mine,” she said. “That was
before he knew I’d sold it. I have a good relationship with him.”

“I think you owe us as much!” the woman interjected. “We paid
for a properly functioning Tapura. You delivered a broken one! You have an
obligation to fix it!”

“I’m willing to make it right,” Rachel replied. “If you loan
it to me, I’ll ask Dixon to recalibrate it, and I’ll return it when he’s done.
Then we’re even.”

The woman turned to Jack, and the two of them talked in
hushed tones. After a moment, she turned back.

“A deposit,” the woman said. “Something we can hold in
exchange until you return it.”

Rachel smiled and reached into her pocket. She held out the
lip balm.

“What does it do?” the woman asked.

“It cures eyesight.”

Eliza saw the woman’s eyes widen behind her thick lenses.
“Really?” the woman asked.

“Really,” Rachel replied. “Use it four or five times a day, and
you’ll have perfect eyesight within a week or two.”

Eliza could see the woman suppressing a smile, and she
quickly turned back to Jack. They talked more, and after a minute she whirled
around, smiling broadly. She quickly replaced the smile with a grim frown.

“One week,” the woman said. “And if we don’t get it back by
then, I was serious about the hounds.”

“You’ll get it back,” Rachel said. “Where is it?”

The woman led them away from Jack, leaving him in the dark.
She approached one of the tables; it was covered from end to end with boxes,
papers, and objects.

“Hold this flashlight, will you?” she said, passing it to
Rachel. The woman then searched through the table, coming up empty. She moved
to another and searched. “It’s here somewhere,” she muttered.

Eliza watched as the woman raised and lowered mundane item
after mundane item, wondering if each of them was some kind of special River
object. She didn’t know if dropping into the flow would be bad protocol, but
she couldn’t resist the temptation. Once she’d entered it, dozens of items on
each of the tables emitted the same cool glow she’d seen in the exhibit.

“Ah!” the woman cried, slipping a small plastic box from
under a stack of books. “Here!” she said, extending it to Rachel, who took it
in exchange for the flashlight. Rachel examined it, turning it over in her
hands. To Eliza, still in the flow, it radiated the glow, but looked like a
double pack of playing cards, the kind with a clear plastic top that showed two
decks, side by side. There was an intricate black and white pattern on the top
card of both sides. She dropped from the River and the pattern on the cards
changed to an intricate Asian design of red and gold.

“Alright,” Rachel said. “One week, and I’ll be back.”

“Make sure of it!” they heard Jack hiss from his dark corner.

They left the house, returning to Eliza’s car. She waited
until they were safely inside to say, “I presume all the stuff about
miscalibration was a lie?”

“Well, it might be miscalibrated, I don’t know,” Rachel
replied. “I’ve never heard that Tapuras could be calibrated at all, but he
bought it.”

“So you lied to him,” Eliza said.

“I did!”

“What happens if he finds out?”

“Oh, I don’t care, I hate him anyway,” Rachel said. “You saw
what he was like. He was even worse when he bought my stuff. I don’t care if he
finds out.”

“Still,” Eliza said.

“Honey,” Rachel replied, “the truth doesn’t always get you what
you want. Especially with men.”

●

They walked through the hallway of the hospital, trying to
locate Shane’s room. He’d been moved to an older psychiatric hospital in a
suburb of Madison, and Eliza was a little confused by the directions she’d been
given. The sterile white walls didn’t help.

“So how exactly does this work?” Eliza asked, checking the
room numbers. “It won’t hurt him, will it?”

“He won’t even know I took the reading,” Rachel replied.

“What exactly are you reading, again?”

Rachel removed the playing card case from her purse. “I’ll
use this side on him,” she said. “It’ll pick up a pattern, which will be
displayed here.” She tapped the left deck of cards. “Then we’ll go back to
House on the Rock, and do the same thing on the right side with those
contraptions until we find a match.”