Ghosts of Rosewood Asylum (36 page)

Zach remembered the pairs of night vision
goggles in the
XPI
truck and trotted to the parking lot to retrieve
them. For a brief moment, he considered leaving Ray behind. He hadn’t told him
where Matthew’s secret entrance was. By the time he’d gathered three pairs of
goggles and locked the van, Ray was already there.

“C’mon, buddy. I’m driving.” Ray pointed to
his truck.

You must go in there alone.

“Shit, what about the others?” Zach asked.
If he could get Ray to go back inside, he could make a break for it.

“Nah, we’ll call them from the road. Time’s
a wasting.”

Zach stood motionless.

Ray was already hoofing it to his pickup.
“C’mon, buddy. Let’s go. We’ll make this an adventure. Find the kid and be
heroes.”

Becoming a hero was the furthest thing from
Zach’s mind. A gnawing fear ate away at him that not everyone that went into
Rosewood would get out alive.

“Pull up there.” Zach pointed to a spot
flanked by an SUV and a late model Oldsmobile. Two letters, the “s” and the
“i”on the Olds had long since fallen away leaving, “Old mob le” sprawled across
the trunk.

“I don’t think I can squeeze...” Ray peered
across. “Ah, screw it.”

He pulled in cockeyed with the back end of
his pickup hanging out into the street. “I get a ticket, buddy, you’re payin’
for it.”

“Deal,” Zach said.

They were three-fourths down Pine Avenue, a
good one-hundred and fifty yards past Rosewood’s entrance. The location would
give Zach the perfect opportunity to go left to the back fence and follow it to
the far corner where the opening was. During the ride, he and Ray had discussed
circling Rosewood separately, and then meeting up with Ginny and Rebecca in the
Muses
parking lot.

“So what’s the plan?” Ray asked.

“We talked about it, you go one way I’ll go
the other and—”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. Which way should I
take?”

“Oh.” Zach looked right and then left. “Uhh,
you go right. Rebecca should be getting there by the time we meet.”

“Sweet,” Ray said. He looked toward the main
Rosewood gate. “Although I notice you’re giving me the security guard to slip
by. Or should we let him know about Joey?”

“We’d better not. We don’t want to alert him
in case we do need to go in there later.”

“So what if he asks me what I’m doing poking
around?”

Zach winked and grinned. “Hey, you’re the
boxer. Knock his block off if you need to.”

“Roger, Dodger,” Ray said with a smile. “So
where is this secret entrance?”

“Around on Lincoln Avenue, near Ginny’s,”
Zach lied. “Once we’re all together, if we haven’t found Joey, we can sneak in
there and look. Although I’d have no idea how he’d have gotten in.”

“That’s true,” Ray said. “Well, let’s get
cruisin’. Race you to the other side!”

They took off in separate directions. Zach’s
feet still ached from earlier, but he had at least managed to slip a pair of
socks on to dull the chafing. The chilly night air smelled much as it had when
Zach had walked from Matthew’s fence hole to
Muses
. At the late hour,
fewer people were keeping their hearths active, but ash from the fire at the
old stable building lingered in the smoky air.

Zach passed by the administration building
which was just thirty yards from the fence. No sign of Dr. Johansson; Hunter
had asked him to lay low for twenty-four hours, and they were just about
expired. Zach wondered how adept the ghost doctor was at tracking down missing
kids.

Before turning the corner of the back fence
line, Zach looked behind him; however the darkness had eclipsed Ray. The
thought spooked him and he began jogging. The sooner he got inside Rosewood,
the more time he’d have to locate and retrieve Joey before Ray and the others
came looking for him. He had no plan of action. He hadn’t had much time to
think of why Joey would be in Rosewood or what Paramour wanted from him.

He ran parallel to where, earlier that
night, the fire had been. Through the trees, the remaining framework of the old
stables building seemed to glare at him as he passed. It was almost as if it
was warning him off, telling him he was crazy for returning. And he well might
be at that. He sprinted on, increasing his speed hoping that the cool breeze
blowing past him would cleanse him of all insecurities and fears. Panting, Zach
stopped running thirty yards short of the corner of the fence. He didn’t stop
out of fatigue. It was surprise.

Shock.

The netting constructed by Matthew to hide
the opening had been pulled back. Someone else had crawled into Rosewood. There
was a hole in the fence to prove it.

“Joey?” Zach called hoarsely into the night.
“Joey? Are you here, Joey?”

The night vision goggles helped him navigate
through the wooded vicinity beyond the fence. He figured he should swing
through that area before heading up to the asylum itself. He’d also hoped to
stumble upon his deserted belongings. They weren’t in the location where he’d
initiated his episode.

“Joey?”

He’s inside Rosewood.
Uncle Henry’s voice repeated for the
umpteenth time.

There was no use wasting any more time. The
voice wouldn’t lie about something like that. Combing the grounds had been a
wish, a hope. A fantasy. If Joey had somehow found a way into the asylum, Zach
would have to discover how, and then follow him in.

Zach trudged up toward the asylum. It
appeared ever more ominous through the green hue of the night vision goggles.
He tried to keep panning from side to side as he advanced towards Rosewood, but
each glance toward the streetlights lining the asylum’s property, turned the
green images to a white haze.

Joey was inside Rosewood, but why? To what
end? To serve what means? Had Paramour disguised as “Boy” lied to him? Worse,
could Paramour be attempting to lure Joey into a dangerous situation, see to
his death and steal his innocent soul? Or had Paramour been patient all these
years, gaining power until the right child came along to attach himself
to—reincarnate himself with?

As Zach had learned, possession was an
uncomfortable situation, far unlike that portrayed in the movies. Possessions
by spirits were far more common than the more dramatic demon possessions that
fascinated people. Ghost possession, spirit possession while not immediately
harmful to one’s soul, contained many dangers. The accompanying spirit at times
could be an unwelcome and insidious force. In Zach’s case, it had proven
helpful if not necessary. His godfather, Uncle Henry, had loved him, still
loved him. However, people’s souls changed when they die. At best, they
stagnated. At worst, they decayed. Souls weren’t meant to stay in this realm.
Over the years, that had become more and more clear to Zach. Another thing that
was obvious—neither John Paramour, nor the thing he had become, loved or cared
for Joey. The havoc Paramour would wreak on that boy’s soul would destroy it.

As Zach reached the asylum’s brick wall, the
scent of
Sailor Black
came to him.

Watch your eyes.

His eyes? What did his Uncle Henry mean by
that? Zach took off the night vision goggles. From this point, he could
navigate by moonlight. No sooner had he rounded the corner of Rosewood, than a
powerful light blinded him.

The intense beam remained on his face. Zach
raised a hand to shield his eyes from it, and it doubled as an attempt to
protect himself from whoever was blinding him. His eyes struggled to adjust,
but Zach could see nothing beyond the light.

“I knew y’az would come back. Knew it!”

It was the voice of Grant Winkler.

“Listen, Mr. Winkler, I know how this looks,
but you’ve got to believe me, a boy is missing and—”

“Oh no. A boy is missing. Oh boo fucking
hoo. Your boys and girls can kiss the ripe part of my ass!”

“No, sir. I mean a little—”

“Oh, don’t worry. I closed and locked the
door to the old visitor’s area that you clowns left open.”

He cackled at his own brilliance. He was
blind stinking drunk, and with what Zach knew of Grant Winkler, that meant he’d
be belligerently drunk. Who had left a door to Rosewood open? Bryce? Matthew?
Had somehow Paramour’s ghost opened it? And why?

So the boy could get in.

“And what in the mother of fuck me, is
this?” Winkler diverted the beam to an area on the ground. Illuminated there
were Zach’s bloodstained towels, the blanket and his gym bag. “You kids kill
some animals out there? Some initiation or somethin? Whad’juz go runnin’ around
cutting each other up?”

Zach felt numb from his toes to his chest.
“No, sir. I assure you no one and no animals were—”

“You fuckin’ kids think your shit don’t
stink. Ya’ comes in here all high and mighty and think you’re gonna fuck with
my property? Well fuck you. Fuck them, too. You’re goin’ to jail ya’ punk.”

Reasoning with this bastard wasn’t going to
work. Zach stared directly into the flashlight’s beam, and then looked away. He
peered into the dark space above the flashlight hoping to be able to catch a
glimpse of the man’s figure.

A figure he could take aim at.

Zach sessions in the ring with Ray might
come in handy after all. Zach was going to clock Winkler and he was going to
clock him good—knock the bastard out.

One. Two. One Two. One two. Ran through his
head. The first punch would hopefully stun him; the second would really do the
damage. God forgive him, but this was a necessary and justified action. He
crept closer.

“Please, Mr. Winkler, if you’ll just listen
a second.” He inched closer still.

“Stay back ya’ shitter,” Winkler growled.
“I’m callin’ the cops now!”

Beyond the flashlight’s glare, the soft
emanation of light from a cell phone illuminated Winkler’s jaw line ever so
faintly. But it was enough.

One. Two. One Two. One two.

Zach charged.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Winkler must have seen Zach coming because
the flashlight wobbled. Its unsteady beam bounced and weaved as he tried to
move away. The cell stayed lit long enough for Zach to hone in.

One. Two. One Two. One two.

“Stay back!”

Zach cocked his right, his jabbing hand.

“Stay—”

The flashlight wavered and lowered. Zach
swung at the Winkler’s darkened face.

One. Two!

There was a beast’s growl. A thunk of body
on body. Zach’s fist sailed harmlessly through the air. Connected with nothing.
Winkler was down.

Whatever it was that attacked had barely
grazed Zach, but already off balance from the missed punch, the contact threw
him to the ground.

Hit by a beast. Winkler had been knocked
over by a beast. Zach thought it might be a wild dog. Fear toyed with his mind.
A bear? A werewolf?

Beside him, in the darkness, Winkler whined
in vain. “Noooo!”

There was a smack of flesh on flesh.

“Ah, fuck!”

It was quiet except for heavy breathing. His
own and whoever or whatever else was there. On his knees, Zach scrambled away
fast as he could.

“Zach, you all right?”

“Ray? Is that you?”

His eyes were still adjusting to the
darkness. The flashlight lay ten yards away pointing to a dull spot on
Rosewood’s brick façade.

“Yeah.”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“I think I broke my hand.”

Zach crawled closer. His friend’s features
appeared from the darkness. He was holding his right hand.
His
power
punch hand. Next to him, Winkler was lying like a dead cowboy on a dusty main
strip. Arms spread out. Head turned to the side. Instead of a soiled brim hat,
Winkler’s White Sox cap slanted off his head.

Zach stared at his friend. “Are you okay?
How’d you get in here?”

“I’ll live. It might be broken, though.
Maybe just the pinky if I’m lucky. Crap.”

“What? How...”

“Buddy, you’re a great friend. You’re a
helluva ghost hunter,” he said. “But you’re one of the worst liars in the
world.”

It became clear. Ray’d doubled back and had
been following him the whole time.

“When you turned the corner and I saw the
beam, I ran around Rosewood quick as I could. Sorry it took so long.”

And he was barely panting.

“What the heck is this shit?” Ray asked
peering at the bloody accoutrements near Winkler.

Having just been told he was a terrible
liar, Zach chose a version of truth. “Winkler had ‘em when I got here.”

“Weird! Hey, is that a Sci-D water bottle?”