Ghosts of Rosewood Asylum (3 page)

“C’mon. C’mon,” Ray said pounding his gloves
together in succession. “I’m not done.”

The musky smell of the gym and the sounds of
other boxers jumping rope, hitting bags and lifting weights enhanced Zach’s
sense of accomplishment for even having been willing to climb in the ring.

“FuggRay…” Zach mumbled through his
mouthpiece. “R’you tryin’ to kill me?”

Zach offered a few half-hearted bobs that he
hoped would substitute for bouncing on his toes. After enduring just two
minutes in the ring—and more than a couple of his best friend’s punches, Zach
could barely move his legs or lift his arms. “There must be ten other guys—”

“C’mon, buddy.” Ray “The Railroad” Ross spit
out his mouthpiece but kept dancing and weaving around Zach. “This is quality
time together.”

“I though you weren’t s’ppose ta fight souff-paws?”

“My next fight is with a lefty. That makes
you the perfect sparring partner, buddy.”

The bastard wasn’t even out of breath.

Zach nodded and padded closer to Ray. He
knew that he’d be little more than punching bag fodder but if he could get one
solid punch in, or maybe a flurry, he’d expel the frustration from his earlier
meeting with Sara and Dr. Benz.

“C’mon. C’mon. With uhn name like
‘Kalusky,’” he said in a poorly done Eastern European accent, “you should be
like uhn big Polish fighter.”

The name. With his dark hair, hazel eyes and
wiry frame, Zach didn’t look in the least bit Polish—but at least
Sci-D
TV had given up trying to convince him to alter “Kalusky” to something more
“marketable” for the show.

Poof. Pa-poof. Poof.

A flurry of Ray’s punches came up mercifully
short of Zach’s nose.

“Damn. When you goin’ pro?”

“Can’t just yet. Ya’ know, once I’m pro,
I’ll have to quit the job.”

“Riiiight. BS alert.”

“Hey, I might have to punch someone.” He
looked away. It was the first time he’d taken his eyes off Zach the entire time
in the ring. “I might need to toss a customer out on his ear.”

Ray worked as a bouncer at a strip club.

“So?”

“So. They might sue me.”

“Huh? You got no money to sue for.”

Poof. Pa-poof. Poof.

All three punches tapped Zach’s headgear. It
felt like a warning to change the subject. For a year, Ray had been postponing
a leap into his boxing career and apparently, the inflamed spot was becoming
sorer.

Two more of Ray’s punches landed and pressed
Zach into the corner of the ring.

“You’re making me do this ‘cuz you got twice
the videotape last case,” Zach said.

Besides being his best friend since high
school and tormenter in the boxing ring, Ray, the only member of
Xavier
Paranormal Investigators
not a student at Saint Xavier, served as Zach’s
Video Review Analyst.

“Nah, the more videotape, the more time with
Sara.”

Zach attempted a jab but Ray deftly dodged
it.

“Ya know seriously,” Ray said. “I think
reviewing those videos helps my boxing eye.”

“I’d think,” Zach said panting, “it would
make you go blind.”

Ray grimaced. “That’s what my trainer said
too.”

“I knew I’d find a way to beat you.” Zach
smiled as best as he could manage through his mouthpiece.

“Smoke and mirrors, my friend,” Ray darted
back and forth “Smoke and mirrors.”

Despite a torso as wide as an oak tree
trunk, Ray moved at lightning speed.

“I’ll show you smoke,” Zach said unleashing
a flurry of lefts and rights that, in his mental plan, had been fluid and
quick. Instead, the glancing blows to Ray’s arm and chest weren’t even worth
attempting to avoid. Zach wondered if the guys outside the ring might be
comparing his awkward forward motion to that of a baby giraffe—as if guys like
those watched Sci-D
’s
nature shows.

“So, did ya put in a good word for me yet?”
Ray asked.

“With who?”

“Sara. I told you. I think she’s hot.”

“If I put in a good word to every girl you
think is hot...” Zach couldn’t talk and move at the same time.

“Yeah?” Ray asked.

“I don’t have
that many
good words.”

“Keep it up, buddy. They’ll be carting you
out of here on a stretcher.”

“Great.” Zach’s legs were becoming
room-temperature Jell-O. “At least I’ll be carried.”

“So?” Ray asked. “What
is
my Sara up
to?”

“Ugh. She’s kissing up to the network.” Zach
bobbed up and down.

“How so?”

There was no way to keep pace with Ray. Zach
gasped for breath; he was rapidly getting lightheaded. “Halloween Special.”

“So what’s wrong with that?”

“With
Demon Hunters
.”

“Oh.”

Ray shook his head as though he’d been
momentarily stunned by an uppercut to the jaw. Zach could have taken advantage
of the distraction and charged in with a flurry of punches, but instead used
the opportunity to catch his breath. He really felt useless as a sparring
partner, but he and Ray rarely said no to a request of the other.

“So what are you going to do?” Ray asked.

“Same thing as now.”

“Dance away like a sissy?”

If Ray was attempting to hide a smirk, he
failed.

“Funny. No. Just grin and bear it.”

“Hmmm,” Ray said, his eyes taking on the
intense glare of a predator. “I’ll lay you
bare
.” He moved in for the
kill.

Zach stopped and held both gloves up in a
gesture that was more of a protest than surrender.
“No mas. No mas.”

“C’mon. C’mon.” Ray unleashed a flurry of
punches on a make-believe opponent in the center of the ring. “I’m just getting
warmed up.” Not only was he not out of breath, he’d barely even broken a sweat.

“Not on me you’re not. I’ve got a television
face to protect.”

“I’ve got news for you, buddy,” Ray said.
“Zac Effron you’re not.”

While his friend had a point, as
Xavier
Paranormal Investigators
had gained popularity, Zach was surprised at the
amount of fan mail –much of it love letters –that he received from both young
girls and…from older men. Fortunately, none of the show’s “clients” had ever
made an on-air pass at him, although off the air a few had made it clear that
they would more than welcome follow up calls from him. Lonely as he became
sometimes, Zach was determined to stay single until he completed his doctoral
thesis.

Besides, becoming emotional held a certain
unusual and serious consequence for Zach. One that began with whiffs of
Sailor
Black
and ended in something Zach could never show to a lover. The first
time he’d kissed a girl in junior high he had almost immediately lapsed into an
episode.

Zach spit out his mouthpiece. “I’m going to
hit the showers, bud.”

“You got it, man. Thanks for the workout.”
Ray approached and stuck both gloves out for Zach to tap. “I’m gonna get a
little more work done before I call it a day.”

Zach nodded and, as they climbed from the
ring, two other boxers eagerly slipped between the ropes. Zach had survived a
session in the ring with a professional-level pugilist, but he doubted he’d
contributed much to Ray’s path to his first paid fight—or maybe he’d pumped up
Ray’s ego a little.

Zach glanced over his shoulder at his friend
slamming his fists to the midriff of a punching bag that, if administered to a
real fighter would have landed even heavyweights on their knees.

Ray had actually found an opponent even less
mobile than Zach.

“The Haunted Asylum, buddy!” Ray slapped him
a shower-moistened high five. “You’ve been talking about that place as long as
I’ve known you.”

Before toweling off, Ray bent over and
vehemently shook his head, spraying water droplets from his hair onto Zach the
way a dog would after fetching a stick from a lake.

“That’s disgusting—come on, you’re getting
my books all wet!”

“Awwww. Poor Psychology-boy.”

Sitting with textbooks spread open in the
gym’s locker room, Zach must have looked the part. Ray’s “little more” workout
had lasted over an hour and Zach needed to cram for an Evolutionary Psychology
test.

“Anyway,” Ray said. “I’ve heard that every
time they’re to reopen Rosewood, something stops them. Everything from suicides
to fires to sightings of some witch ghost halts all plans. I guess it’s
happened like twenty different times.”

“I think the number is closer to seven,”
Zach said. “But, yeah.”

“Whatever. Still, there are those Evergreen
Park High School students who snuck in on a dare to stay overnight. One of them
died that night and another of the kids eventually went insane.”

 “That’s such an urban legend.”

“It is not. Remember Danny Joyce? His older
sister’s best friend was one of those girls.” Ray applied a generous amount of
cologne on his neck and chest.

“Danny Joyce was a moron. I wouldn’t believe
anything he ever said.”

“What about the rest?”

“Well,” Zach said, “reports of the female
ghost are extremely common, and she’s supposedly pretty gruesome. One report alleges
that she’s even hideous enough to date you.”

Ray finished pulling a t-shirt over his
bulging muscles and feigned a punch. Zach stuck out his chin daring him to do
it.

“So seriously,” Ray said. “Those Demon
Hunters are hack artists. They use all those quick cuts, silhouettes and
dramatic angles, but you can tell that they’re just playing up
any
sort
of activity they find.”

“You sound rather familiar with the show,”
Zach said. “A closet fan?

“Nope. It’s no secret. I’m their biggest
admirer.” Ray slipped into his jeans.

“You would be.”

“Anyway, rumor has it,” Ray continued, “they
once used an icy beer can to produce a cold spot on their thermal camera. What
are you gonna do—try and get out of it?”

“I don’t think I can—the network calls the
shots. Without the Sci-D TV paycheck, it’s back to working nights at the pizza
place, and that’s not going to pay for my PhD.”

Zach’s scholastic achievements, even in his
favorite subjects, psychology and theology, weren’t anywhere near impressive
enough to merit a free ride through Saint Xavier’s esteemed doctoral program.
He’d never been particularly outstanding in math, science, English, or history,
for that matter. Therefore, it struck him as ironic that a science television
network was paying for his PhD studies because of his interest in ghosts.

“Besides,” he continued, “a Halloween
Special is enormous for the show. If we can pull this off, the sky’s the
limit.”

“Buddy, c’mon. Who you tryin’ to kid? You
give a rat’s ass about the show. It’s just a means to an end.”

It seemed Zach could neither run nor hide,
in or out of the ring. Ray’s comment was true—at least it
had
been true.
As an undergraduate, because of his own childhood experiences with the
supernatural, Zach had founded
Xavier Paranormal Investigators
to investigate
residential haunts. Over the first couple of years, a number of Saint Xavier
students lent their skills to make the group successful. Most just worked a
case or two and, curiosity satiated, left
XPI
, but a tightly knit core
remained. Noticing that just about every cable station aired a ghost hunting
show, Zach contacted Sci-D TV
and proposed
Xavier Paranormal
Investigators
as a television program.
Demon Hunters
had already
been greenlighted for that season, but Dr. Benz loved the idea of investigating
the paranormal by college students with a more scientific angle. The idea took
flight from there. Once the show had become a reality, Zach often felt torn
between the glamour of a career in show business and a calling to help children
who’d experienced trauma, especially paranormal trauma, which was how he hoped
to apply his PhD.

“Look,” he said to Ray, “this is a huge
opportunity. I’ll – we’ll conduct the best investigation we can. Debunk
whatever we can. I think that’s what the state is hoping for. The property has
protected landmark status both federally and at the state level. They want to
sell that property and, between the exposure we provide and the myths we
dispel, they might get a shot at selling it off.”

“And if instead, we don’t debunk?”

“Then, we see if we can get hard data of
anything supernatural. My gut tells me that we’re going to have enough
abnormalities that we won’t need to manufacture drama.”

“Yeah?” Ray asked sarcastically. “Demon
Hunters may just drum up all the drama you need for the rest of your abnormal
life, my friend.”

Zach had never confided in Ray how abnormal
his life really was. There had been a close call—freshman year of high school,
when Zach had just begun to gain control of his affliction, but in the end Zach
had kept the secret even from his best friend. “Again, you sound way too
familiar with the show.”