Ghost Trackers (11 page)

“You saw Greg burning,” he said. “And it seemed so real, like you weren’t remembering but
seeing
it. As if it was happening right in front of your eyes but just for a moment. Then it was gone.”

Amber’s mouth fell open in shock. “Yes. But how—”

The rest of her question was cut off by a high-pitched shriek. It was followed by a second and then a third, each one louder and higher than the last. Then silence.

“What the hell was
that
?” she said.

The shrieks sounded as if they’d come from right outside Drew’s door. He wasn’t a medical doctor, but he was used to dealing with emergencies, given the patient population he worked with. He jumped off the bed and ran to the door, dimly aware that Amber followed. He unlocked the door, flung it open, and saw a man lying on the hallway floor. He rested on his back, legs drawn up so that his knees pointed to the ceiling.
His arms were folded so that his hands lay palm-up on his chest, giving the impression that he’d been trying to ward off an attacker, although aside from him, the hallway was deserted. His eyes were wide and staring, and his mouth was open as if he were still shrieking, but no sound emerged. The utter stillness of the body, coupled with those unblinking eyes, told Drew that the man was dead. Still, he had to be sure. He knelt next to the man, checked to see if he was breathing, then pressed two fingers against his neck to feel for a pulse. There was a harsh smell in the air, an acrid chemical tang that made Drew’s stomach turn. He breathed through his mouth so he wouldn’t have to smell it.

Behind Drew, Amber said, “Is he . . . ?”

“Run back in the room and call the front desk and tell them to get an ambulance here as fast as possible!” He started performing CPR. Even though he hadn’t been able to detect either breathing or a pulse, he knew better than to assume that there was no hope of reviving the man.

As Amber rushed back inside, doors to nearby rooms began opening, and people emerged, frightened and curious. Among them was Trevor. He hurried over to Drew and stood next to him, gazing down at the man lying on the floor.

“What happened?” he asked.

Drew continued performing CPR on the man as
he spoke. “I don’t know. I heard the man scream, and when I came out to check on him, I found him like this. I think he might have had a heart attack or a stroke. Amber’s inside calling the front desk about it.”

Trevor gave him a look. “She was in your room when it happened?”

“It’s not what you think,” Drew said.

Trevor looked as if he wanted to press the issue, but he said no more about it. People were beginning to gather around to check out the body and talk among themselves in hushed voices.

“I recognize him,” Trevor said. “He’s here for the reunion. I saw him wandering around the bar when we were down there earlier. His name is Sean . . . something. I can’t remember his last name.”

Amber came back out into the hall and joined them.

“The clerk at the front desk said he’ll call nine-one-one. Hopefully the paramedics will be here in a few minutes.”

Drew doubted there was anything paramedics could do for Sean at this point, but he continued CPR. Even though he knew his actions were most likely futile, he couldn’t give up until medical help arrived to take over.

Amber wrinkled her nose. “What’s that smell?”

Trevor crouched down next to Drew, reached out, and touched a finger to one of Sean’s palms.

Drew hadn’t noticed it before, but the man’s hands were coated with a thin sheen of slime. Trevor raised his finger to his nose, sniffed, and made a face.

“This is going to sound weird, but it smells like formaldehyde.”

Trevor focused his
camera on the chrome letters above the entrance that spelled out “Lowry Recreation Center” and zoomed in for a closer shot. He took a couple of pictures, one with the flash, one without. When he checked them on the camera’s display, he wasn’t satisfied with either one. They both looked so ordinary. No, worse than that.
Drab
was the word he was looking for. Drab and dull and boring as hell. He imagined a bookstore browser paging through his book on the Lowry House, seeing one of these pictures, thinking,
Seriously? That’s not creepy at all
, and putting it back on the shelf. Still, he didn’t delete the photos. They were better than nothing.

“Disappointed?” Drew asked.

“A little,” Trevor admitted, but he was understating the case. “They cleared away the remains of the Lowry House not long after we graduated from high school, so even if the rec center wasn’t here, there’d be nothing to look at but an empty field. But I still expected the place to feel . . .
different
, you know?”

Amber nodded. “Me, too. But it’s just a building, isn’t it?”

The three friends stood on the lawn in front of the rec center. It was a little before ten
A.M.
, the air was still cool, and the slight breeze blowing made it feel even cooler. Although it was the first week of September, it was still summer, and Trevor figured the day would warm up before long. Still, he wished he’d brought a jacket. Drew had on a blue windbreaker and Amber a cream-colored sweater, but he was wearing a yellow polo shirt, and it wasn’t doing a whole lot to cut the breeze.

He smiled, amused at himself. Here he was, a professional paranormal investigator, having returned to the site of the haunting where he and his friends had been traumatized, lost large chunks of their memories, and perhaps nearly died, and what was uppermost in his mind? That he was chilly. A man of real emotional depth, that was him.

“The location has changed so much that there’s nothing recognizable to trigger our memories,” Drew said.

“Yeah, but I expected to
feel
something,” Trevor persisted.

“Like what?” Amber asked. It was a bit cloudy this morning, but she wore sunglasses.

He figured she hadn’t been able to sleep and her eyes were red and puffy. After what had happened
last night, he’d had a hard time getting to sleep himself, and he’d barely managed to wake up in time to meet Drew and Amber for breakfast in the hotel restaurant.

They’d talked as they ate, and he’d learned that they’d both had the same weird vision he’d had the night before in the hotel bar, that of Greg burning alive. Drew admitted that it was, to say the least, uncommon for three people to experience a shared hallucination, but despite Trevor’s best attempts, he hadn’t been able to get his friend to acknowledge that the vision might be of paranormal origin. After they’d finished eating, the three of them had decided to take a trip to visit the site of the Lowry House, and Trevor had driven them in his Prius, excited to return to the place where the most important event in their lives had occurred. But now that they were there, he found himself more than a little disappointed.

“I don’t know what,” he admitted, and before Drew could say anything, he added, “And I’m not necessarily talking about feeling some kind of psychic residue.” In truth, though, he
had
been hoping to experience something exactly like that, a profound sense of unnameable dread emanating from the site where the Lowry House, a Bad Place if ever there was one, had once stood. He turned to look at the rec center. “I guess I hoped that coming here with the two of you would be like
having the right key to unlock a door, that once we were here, all our memories would come flooding back, and we’d have all the answers.”

Drew stepped closer and laid a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve seen too many movies and TV shows. Recovery from trauma is a long and difficult road. It’s a series of small steps taken over time, not a miraculous epiphany that occurs in an instant.”

He sighed. “I know.” He turned to Drew and smiled. “But it sure would be convenient if it was.”

Drew returned his smile. “True, but if it worked like that, I’d be out of a job.”

Amber pointed at an oak tree less than a dozen yards away. “That’s the tree from the picture, isn’t it? The one you had on your computer, Drew.”

“Picture?” Trevor asked. He liked the sound of that. Maybe it was something he’d be able to use for his book—assuming he’d ever get to write the damn thing, that is.

“It’s an old photo I found of the three of us standing in front of an oak tree with the Lowry House in the background,” Drew explained. He looked at the oak for a moment. “Yeah, I think that’s the same one.” He started toward the tree, and Amber and Trevor followed.

“You two stand over here,” Drew said, and directed Trevor and Amber to stand on the side
of the tree facing the street. They did so, and he stepped back to look at them. “It’s definitely the same tree,” he pronounced. “And if I’m looking at it from the right angle, then the rec center is sitting exactly where the Lowry House used to be.”

Trevor racked his brain, searching for a memory of once having stood in this very spot when he was a teenager and having his picture taken. He thought there might be something there, some thin will-o’-the-wisp of recollection, more sensed than recalled, but he wasn’t certain. Still, the thought that they were standing in the same place was exciting. Small steps, Drew had said, right? Well, they were definitely taking some steps just by being there.

“Switch places with me, Drew,” he said. “I want to get a picture of you and Amber in the same position we stood back then. You know, for comparison’s sake.”

Drew did as he requested and stood next to Amber, while Trevor stepped back, raised his camera, and lined up the shot.

Drew and Amber stood, their hands at their sides, neither one smiling.

Trevor couldn’t help laughing. “C’mon, this isn’t a funeral. Smile a little!” As soon as he said the words, he regretted them, especially considering what had happened the night before. Still, Drew and Amber managed a pair of smiles, and
Drew even put his arm around her shoulder. He considered teasing them about that, but after his funeral crack, he decided to keep his mouth shut and take the picture. Again, he tried one with the flash and one without. He had Drew and Amber remain in position as he showed them the photos on his camera display to check if they resembled the original picture. Drew confirmed that they did, and, satisfied, Trevor saved the images to the camera’s memory stick.

“Want to see if we can get inside?” he asked.

“I’m sure it’s locked,” Drew said. “And it’s probably not safe to enter, anyway. The outer construction may be finished, but I’m sure they’re still working on the inside.”

“Maybe,” Trevor said, “but aren’t you curious?”

“Not really,” Amber said, and shivered. He doubted that it was because of the breeze. “Not after last night,” she added.

“Are you suggesting that Sean’s death is somehow connected to what happened to us in the Lowry House?” Drew asked. “You heard what the paramedics said. He had a fatal heart attack. Sure, he was a bit young to have heart trouble, but it happens. It was just a coincidence. Nothing supernatural about it at all.”

“Riiiiight,” Trevor said. “And while you’re at it, maybe you can explain why he smelled like he’d been skinny-dipping in formaldehyde before his ticker gave out on him.”

“Whatever the chemical was on him, I doubt it was formaldehyde,” Drew said. “It’s impossible to say what it was without doing some tests, but if I had to guess, I’d say it was some kind of astringent, likely used to treat a skin condition of some sort.”

Trevor eyed his friend skeptically. “His skin looked fine to me. And did you see his face? And the way he was lying there, with his hands raised, as if he’d been trying to fend off an attacker of some sort? Maybe a heart attack is what the coroner is going to put on his death certificate, but it looked to me as if he’d been scared to death.”

“You have an overactive imagination,” Drew said, not unkindly. But Trevor thought he detected an edge of uncertainty in his friend’s tone.

Amber looked at Drew. “Is it possible for someone literally to die of fright?” she asked.

Drew thought a moment before answering. “The mind’s a powerful thing,” he said, “and people’s mental and emotional states can have very real effects on their physical health. So, yes, it’s possible someone could be so terrified that they have a heart attack.”

“We heard him screaming right before he died,” she said. “He sure sounded terrified to me.” She shivered again.

“But what could have frightened him that badly?” Drew said. “There were no signs that
he’d been attacked. There were no marks on his body, and there was no one else in the hall when we reached him. The hallway’s long enough that if someone
had
attacked Sean and fled, we’d have seen him or her running away. And if whoever it was had ducked into a room, we’d have heard the door close.”

“Well, whatever the reason, I’m sorry the guy died,” Trevor said. He shook his head. “It’s a hell of a way to start off a reunion, isn’t it? I mean, people are already melancholy at these things. Thinking about the passage of time, wondering about the choices they made, and even more about the ones they
didn’t
make. Having one of their classmates die before the festivities begin makes it that much worse. Nothing like getting smacked upside the head with a cold, harsh dose of mortality. And then there’s us. We brought a lot more emotional baggage with us this weekend than anyone else, and for Sean to die outside your room, Drew . . . you have to admit it’s more than a little weird.”

Before he could respond, Amber said, “I had a very strange dream last night, not long before Sean died.” She went on to tell them about dreaming that she was a young Native American girl whose village was slaughtered by British hunters, one of whom had turned out to be Greg. As she spoke, she curled her hands into fists and tucked them beneath her arms, as if hugging herself to ward
off a chill brought on by relating the details of her dream.

“It seemed so
real
,” she said. “I truly believed I was Little Eyes, and I felt everything that she would’ve felt. But when Greg appeared, he told me I was dreaming, and then it was like I was two people: Little Eyes
and
Amber. It was very strange, like listening to two different songs playing at the same time. But the worst part was at the end, when Greg . . . changed. Those tentacles . . .” She trailed off and hugged herself tighter.