The Supernaturals (63 page)

“Okay, get a shot of the ballroom doors. Audio, you’re doing real good, but move over into the shot and get your mic boom close to the door. Camera one, make sure you get him doing it.”

In New York, most everyone was impressed with the way Harris Dalton moved from shot to shot with the same kind of quick thinking that had won him all of his Emmy awards. Abe Feuerstein smiled and took a deep swallow of his whiskey. On the large screen, the greenish image of the soundman placed the sound boom as close to the door as possible.

The footsteps moved to the third floor landing and then they stopped. The silence was even more frightening than the noise had been. The cameraman caught the Father crossing himself.

“Great job, One, that was a once in a lifetime shot there.” Harris said.

Kelly Delaphoy moved over toward Lionel Peterson. Although it was dark, she could feel the anger radiating off of him in waves.

“Convinced yet?” she whispered.

“Fuck off,” he hissed, not really caring if the sound equipment heard him or not.

“Go to Camera Two. Kennedy is at the top of the stairs,” Harris said quickly.

The camera view switched with a fluidity that made Harris proud.

Gabriel slammed into
the door that lead back into the kitchen. The camera lost him for a moment as the technician pushed past George and Lonetree, but finally focused on him just as he turned the cut glass doorknob. Nothing happened. Kennedy tried it again.

“It’s locked from the other side.” He pressed his shoulder against the door and pushed. This time the door opened a few inches and then was suddenly thrust back, shoving Gabriel away from the door.

Lonetree stepped past the camera and sound men and placed his large bulk against the door. Then, as one, they pushed. This time the door opened about a foot, and the camera caught both men struggling to maintain the opening. They could see the resistance on the other side of the door. Then they all heard the sound at the same time, right along with the live television audience. The growl was deep, as if it had come from a tunnel, and it made Kennedy and Lonetree lose their battle with the door. The force on the far side pushed it closed once more.

“What the hell was that?” Harris said into his microphone.

“Jesus!” the experienced cameraman said. His lens focused on the door in front of Gabriel and John.

“Goddamn it Camera Two, we can hear you!” Harris hissed into his mic.

His assistant patted his arm. “Take it easy. That was intense, and I doubt TV-land minded at all.”

Dalton knew she was right. Like it or not, the camera and sound men were now a part of the show, no longer just technicians in the background, they were now living this right along with the team down there.

In the green darkness on the screen, they could see Kennedy place his hand on the door about midway up, and then quickly withdraw it.

“Freezing,” he said, moving back to allow Lonetree to feel it for himself. “George, what are you feeling?” Gabriel asked Cordero.

“Scared, damn it.”

“Nothing else?” Kennedy asked.

Breathing heavily, Cordero stepped up to the door and held his hand out without touching the wood. His fingers closed into a fist as he gathered himself, and then they spread again as his hand moved closer. He came within an inch of the wood, then suddenly withdrew his hand and stepped back, making Gabriel and John do the same. The night vision camera zoomed in on Cordero’s features. The man looked around like a trapped animal.

“What?” This time it was the soundman who said the word. The technicians were scared and the whole world now knew professionalism was being overridden by that most basic, overwhelming sense.

“That’s not a ghost out there. Whatever it was, it was never human.” George took a step back off the landing and onto the first stair, nudging Julie Reilly out of the way.

The cut-glass knob turned and the door slowly opened a foot. Everyone stepped back, their eyes turned toward the darkness beyond.

New York

Every person in the screening room stood as the basement door creaked open. Abe Feuerstein lowered his crystal glass. His assistant knelt by the CEO’s large chair and shoved a printout in front of him.

“Ratings have shot through the roof. Word is spreading fast. The general consensus is still that this is all a put-on, but they don’t seem to care.”

“Of course they don’t. This is goddamned good television!”

They watched the
door open. Gabriel felt it first, but it was John who voiced it.

“The cold is gone.”

“It’s not there anymore,” George agreed.

“Our team leader has indicated that the presence beyond the door has left us,” Julie said as the camera turned in her direction.

Kennedy reached out and gently pushed the door open. He suddenly flinched when the loud boom sounded. They could all tell it came from the direction of the ballroom.

“Go to Camera One, now!” Harris said.

Inside the ballroom all eyes were on the giant, thick ballroom doors. The pounding on the wood started almost at the moment the basement door opened and the cold vanished.

“Professor Gabe?” Leonard said into his battery-powered mic, “Temperature fall-off of,” his eyes widened. The pounding was growing louder, more insistent, “Jesus, forty degrees.”

Then the pounding stopped. The doorknobs on both ballroom doors rattled and turned.

“Camera One, tighten up on that shot!” Harris said.

The cameraman zoomed in on the ornate door handles as they both turned, slowly at first, then with more persistence.

Sudden motion blurred past the camera. Jennifer shot forward and reached the doors before anyone knew what was happening. She turned the old skeleton-style key in the lock and then backed away. The pounding started again. Whatever was out there, it was angry that she had locked the doors. Jennifer and the others threw their hands up and covered their ears. Leonard was flinching every time the doors were struck. The pounding was so hard that plaster from the ceiling started to cascade down. The boom mic picked up Father Dolan’s prayers.

The pounding stopped and the doors started bending inward with a loud crack that froze everyone in place.

“Holy fuck,” Lionel Peterson said. His words went out live over the air, making legal execs flinch in New York.

Part of the oaken left door cracked and splintered with a loud pop. It was bent inward so far that the wood could endure no more.

Wallace Lindemann’s drink slipped through his fingers and hit the carpeted floor. No one, not even Lindeman himself, noticed.

The right-side door cracked as it bowed inward. They could all hear heavy grunting and breathing above the din of cracking wood. Jennifer was pulled back suddenly by Leonard, who was staring at the double doors. They were being pushed beyond what they could take. The grunting became louder still.

Suddenly the doors relaxed and sprang back to their original shape and position.

“Feel it?” Leonard asked.

Everyone did. It was over and they all knew it, even as Wallace Lindemann fainted dead away.

The cold was gone.

Suddenly the pounding started again, but this time it was miniscule compared to before. The doorknobs rattled and turned. Leonard ran to the doors and turned the ancient key in its lock.

“No!” Lionel Peterson shouted out. Most could hear Kelly Delaphoy’s snicker even over his loud exclamation.

Everyone in the van smiled. Lionel Peterson seemed to be quickly becoming a believer in the supernatural.

Leonard threw open the left door and leaned heavily against the door frame when he saw Kennedy and the others standing in the dark.

“Everyone okay?” Gabriel asked as he pushed into the ballroom, quickly followed by Lonetree, Cordero and Julie Reilly. Damian Jackson came in after the camera and sound men. “I think it’s over for now,” Gabriel said. He looked around at the terrified faces framed by the dim glow of their flashlights.

“Professor Gabe?” Leonard said as he quickly closed the ballroom doors.

Kennedy turned. The camera men had each of the two framed, so that Harris could choose the shot he wanted.

“I think you have a real haunted house here.”

“Fade to black
, commercial in two, one, go,” Harris said into his mic.

On the screen, a rabbit was smiling and rolling a roll of toilet paper down a grassy hill.

“Tell New York I need ten minutes here to sort things out. Tell them to line three four-minute spots,” Dalton said as he sat heavily into his chair. “I want to be able to go back ASAP if something happens, so be ready to cut into the spots if need be.”

On the screen labeled “preview,” Kelly Delaphoy stepped into the picture and looked into the camera lens.

“What news is coming out of New York, Harris?” she asked, pressing her earpiece to her ear.

“All quiet on the Eastern front at the moment, but I think you’ll have the rest of your special,” Harris said. He paused and downed an entire bottle of water. When he finished, he looked at Kelly, who was smiling. “What’s so funny?”

“I knew this would work.” She lowered her voice, looked away and then back at the camera. “Did you hear Lionel scream when Sickles went for the door?”

“Yeah, we saw, along with the rest of the world. But before you start getting too thrilled over Peterson’s state, you better get a hold of yourself and start making a plan with Kennedy, because I think you’ve got a real problem.”

“What in hell can be a problem now?” Kelly asked.

“In case you haven’t noticed, you’ve all been herded into one place. On Camera Five, up on the third floor, something isn’t right.”

“What’s that?” she asked, her smile fading.

“The doors to the sewing room and the master suite are now closed. That means whatever was down near the basement and the ballroom more than likely came from the third floor.”

“I get you, Harris.”

“No, I don’t think you do.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“We can see the lights on in both rooms, even though the power has been out for the last fifteen minutes.”

New York

The network ad executives were on the phone throughout the ten minute break in live programming. The din in the screening room was music to Abe Feuerstein’s ears—they were now actually turning down requests from the main sponsors of
Hunters of the Paranormal
to add additional time to their commitment.

The CEO watched as the men and women who had supported Lionel Peterson in his coup also scrambled to try and save their positions. As they attempted to approach Abe one and two at a time, he simply held up his hand and waved them away. Several left the screening room altogether. The night was his, and he only wished Lionel was here himself to see his complete and utter failure.

“Sir, all indications are that we are now nearing a fifty percent share on the night. The late night audience is just now tuning in and the sequence of events at Summer Place could not have come at a better time.”

Feuerstein nodded and shook his glass which contained nothing but melting ice. The young lady took the glass and the meaning but stayed as she needed to say something else.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Our legal department is concerned about what’s happening. I guess they are now believers themselves and—”

“Tell them to shove their concerns.”

“They would like all nonessential personnel out of that house, Father Dolan especially.”

Abe smiled and tapped the glass the young assistant held in her hand.

“The good Father stays. I believe he and Lionel Peterson need to be in on the finale, don’t you?”

The assistant turned and went to refill the CEO’s glass.

On the main viewing screen, a brand new Chevrolet Malibu shot down a Rocky Mountain highway. The scroll at the bottom of the screen warned the viewing audience that
Hunters of the Paranormal
would resume in five minutes. Abe smiled as he accepted his whiskey.

“Yes sir, this is television.”

With the storm
breaking in earnest outside the walls of Summer Place, the occupants inside of the ballroom were becoming concerned. The men, including Lionel Peterson and the very frightened Wallace Lindemann, were crowded in front of the massive oaken doors. They had been trying to open them and the smaller side door for the past ten minutes, to no avail. It was as if the ballroom had been encased inside a concrete block. Kelly Delaphoy and Julie Reilly were standing next to the sofa where they had moved Father Dolan, while Jennifer Tilden and Damian Jackson tried in vain to smash the glass at the French doors in the front. Chair after chair met a similar fate to those in the living room an hour before.