Authors: P R Mason
The object of her exclamation lounged against vending machines. Billy Broadrick, in all his oily quarterback glory. With light mocha skin and bluish hazel eyes, Billy would have been in the hot column of my book if it weren’t for his horrid personality. Totally killed his hotness. But it wasn’t Billy alone that had caused Petra’s shock. Juliette, my stepsister, was plastered against Billy with her lips in an open mouth kiss against his. Sick. And not in the cool sick way but in the “I’m gonna vomit” way.
“For never was a story of more gag than this of Juliette and her douchebag,” I said, intentionally mangling Shakespeare.
“When did they start dating?” Petra asked.
Wow. I finally knew something before she did.
“Never mind.” Petra waved her hand. “I don’t want to think about them together. Eww.”
“What’s this about a spelunk tonight?” We turned down the second hall. I might just make English on time.
“It’s gonna be excellent. Ghosts galore they say. Are you coming?”
“I don’t know. Maybe,” I hedged. “Who’ll be there?”
“The usual mc² suspects: Senji, Franky, me—”
Our friend Senji had dubbed our spelunking group after the Einstein theory of relativity equation. Personally, I thought the name sucked.
“And Chase. I’m sure Chase will be there,” I teased.
“Of course my big, handsome surfer dude will be there. He—Oh no she didn’t.”
Swiveling my head in the direction of Petra’s glare, I spotted the source of her outrage: Chase heading our way with one arm wrapped around some African American cheerleader. Last year, Chase hadn’t been popular enough to bag a cheerleader. But since then he seemed to have filled out some. He wasn’t the lanky nerd anymore but the sun kissed surfer dude Petra had dubbed him.
“Excuse me Kizzy,” Petra said. “I’m gonna have to go now and snatch the weave off the head of that girl with her hands on my guy.”
“Okay,” I called before sprinting the remaining fifty yards to the English classroom. As I moved, I heard an outraged scream erupt behind me, followed by scuffling.
Just when my hand reached to grasp the door handle, another hand with elegantly long fingers snaked around and got there before me.
“Service offered,” Rom's said before he pulled the door wide for me to pass inside. Shit. Of course, that foreign exchange student guy just had to be in my English class.
Escaping from home that night proved far from easy. I had tried the “you let Juliette go out on a school night” gambit. Hadn’t worked. Mom responded with the “you have homework young lady” block. Storming up to my room, I complained as loudly and obnoxiously as I could manage so as to avoid Mom coming to my room while I “studied”.
After locking the door, I changed clothes into black jeans, t-shirt and windbreaker. Red sneakers were my only concession to color. I climbed out of the window, careful not to slip on the slate tiles of the roof that served as an overhang for the front door of our Victorian. From this position I made the short leap to a branch on the nearby Japanese maple and then shimmied down the trunk before landing at street level.
Without much conscious thought, I ran toward the Old Candler Hospital bordering Forsyth Park, about five blocks away. The slight sulfur smell from the paper plant across the river permeated the city air. Overhead the Spanish moss hung like tinsel from the live oak trees arched in a canopy over our street. Fog meant no visible stars and or moon and so the night was unusually dark. It must have been completely overcast. The street lamps cast only pockets of light onto the surface of my path.
Excitement coursed through me as I rounding the block’s corner and the west side of the hospital appeared. The spelunking group consisting of Petra, Chase, Franky and Senji loitered near the gate to the hospital along with one more person…Rom.
“What’s he doing here?” I demanded, a little out of breath as I reached them.
“Our first meeting was not fortuitous.” Rom’s mouth curled in that half-smile half-snarl thing that he did so gorgeously.
An understatement. The guy lacked boundaries. Asking about some—What were the names again? Dor-something.
“What’s the big deal? He wants to join us.” Senji tossed his head. Skinny and on the shortish side, Senji Matsuki wore glasses with thick neon green frames. His hair was ultra straight and black courtesy of his Japanese dad, with a big swath of bang that had a tendency to hang in his almond shaped eyes most of the time. “Besides, you two could be twins.”
Of course Senji referred to the fact that Rom had dressed in an outfit almost identical to mine. Only on Rom it seemed cool and dashing. My look? I’m not sure what you’d call it.
“Whatever.” Turning to the wrought iron gate with an exaggerated huff, I pulled canvas gloves from the pockets of my windbreaker and slipped them on.
The gate was only about five feet in height and intended to be more decorative than protective. Wedging my foot between the vertical bars of the gate, I grasped the top, took a hop and began to pull myself up. Without warning, I felt hands on my hips, lifting me.
“WTF?” I said, startled into falling back against a tall form of iron muscle. Powerful arms enfolded me. Over my shoulder there was Rom. What teen had the build of a trained soldier?
“Hey whacko.” I jerked away from him. “I don’t need your help.”
“Apologies,” he answered, but his smirk belied his words.
Free of his interference, I hopped into a sitting position on top of the gate and then swung my legs to the other side before jumping down. Running head long toward the building, my adrenaline surged. Now I knew why I’d come.
“Kizzy, wait,” Senji called. For some reason he thought he controlled everything we did on our spelunks.
The hospital building stood as a crumbling ruin of whitewashed brick. No one had used this building since the 1930s. City officials kept threatening to tear it down, but they were at war with the historic preservationists who wanted to keep the place because some famous architect designed it in the mid 1800s.
Up a flight of stairs, we reached the double wood doors and found them locked. The nearest window, although boarded over on the inside, was cracked open slightly, inviting entry particularly since it was the floor to ceiling variety. But although the window obviously wasn’t locked, it wouldn’t move even with great effort on my part. As I heaved, the old glass in the frame rattled, threatening to break and for a moment there seemed a distinct possibility of a shower of sharp shards raining down.
“Service offered,” Rom said behind me. “You could be wounded.”
“We’re going to need a hammer or something.” I turned to him.
Rom shook his head and pushed me aside. He placed a small flashlight on the sill before pushing the window up as if it hadn’t even been stuck. He kicked at the board behind and it clattered to the ground inside.
Picking up Rom’s flashlight I directed it through the opening and peered inside at a room empty except for broken glass, soda cans, newspaper and an abandoned gurney.
A breathless Senji, followed quickly by Petra, Chase and Franky, reached us.
“Hey guys,” Senji said. “Don’t split off from the group. It’s dangerous. Stay together.”
“Come on.” I crawled over the sill into the room. One step, then two, and then three. The wood floor felt spongy under my feet. I directed the flashlight to the ground and saw a six-foot square gaping hole not two feet ahead. Below and beyond lay a basement level.
Four more flashlight beams joined with mine, dancing and flitting in the dark recess below us. Crates randomly littered a concrete floor of the basement. An unidentifiable but massive black machine—something out of sci-fi movie—lurked against one wall. Along another wall was a door to somewhere. The morgue perhaps?
“Do you think our ropes will reach?” I asked.
“It’s probably a twenty-foot drop,” Senji said. With ginger movements he kneeled on a section of splintered planks and leaned his head through the opening. “We can probably make it to that stack of crates over there if we can find a decent place to tie off an end.”
“Why don’t we just go up to the roof?” Chase interjected.
“The roof has preference for me also.” Rom slid me a glance with narrowed eyes.
“That’s too easy,” Franky said. “It’s supposed to be UE. You know urban exploration? Going to the basement and finding the tunnels is the exploration part.” Franky had a bravery at odds with his rail thin body. Franky wouldn’t have been any good at spelunking if not for the fact his flexibility rivaled a circus contortionist’s.
“Can we at least find a staircase?” Chase took off a glove and rubbed at the front of his tight fitting t-shirt, which he wore atop loose hanging jeans. He swept a hand through his chin length blond hair in a nervous motion. “I mean, there’s gotta be a staircase somewhere.”
We all ignored him, except Petra who sighed in adoration at his gesture. I honestly didn’t know what made Chase join our group. He never seemed that keen on actually going into anywhere more dangerous than a restaurant.
“The guest book was supposed to be in the morgue,” I said with irritation. The guest book was the finish line or target area where everyone would sign in with spray can tags. “Let’s get going. I gotta be home before Mom discovers I’m gone.”
“I vote basement.” Petra smiled at me. She turned to Chase linking her arm through his. “We could see cool ghosts, honey.”
“I don’t believe in ghosts, Petra pie,” Chase said with a sour expression.
Ugh. Pet names? Guess they were back together again as a couple.
“Besides, if we go to the roof we could make out under the stars.” Chase took Petra into an embrace and dropped a kiss on her lips.
“Mmmmm. You make a good case for the roof.” Petra leaned into him. “I love…stars.”
“There aren’t any stars. It’s foggy,” I said, probably not so nicely.
“Yeah. And we’re not going to the roof just to watch the two of you make out,“ Franky commented.
“Come on. Kizzy could make out with Rom too.” Petra glanced my way. “You know you want to.”
I almost lost consciousness. Petra was out of eye gouging range, luckily for her.
“You’re ridiculous.” I gave a laugh that sounded fake to my ears. Psychic vibes of daggers in Petra’s direction shot from my head.
“Chill, Kizzy,” she said with seeming obliviousness. “It’s not like he’s not giving you the eye too.”
My eyes flew to Rom and I was surprised to see him gazing at me. He shrugged with a half smile. Face burning, I turned back to Petra.
“You need to shut up right now, my friend,” I said.
“It’s settled.” Senji pulled a rope from his backpack. “I say we’re going to the basement.”
“Who died and made you the freakin' king?” Chase asked.
“The last of your working brain cells,” Senji replied.
“Take it back.” Chase twisted out of Petra’s embrace and charged at Senji, getting up in his face.
“Huh?” Senji held his ground. “I can’t help it that you’re a moron.”
“Don’t talk to my honey like that,” Petra shouted.
As they bickered, I noticed Rom wander out of the room.
Following him, I entered a hall just as he disappeared into a room at its end. To my right was a staircase going up and down. We could take the stairs to the basement after all.
I passed through the hall and entered a room empty except for a few metal hospital bed frames without mattresses, and of course Rom at its center. He stood unnaturally still as if expecting something.