Night Journey (32 page)

“You’ll mind your tongue, woman! Give ‘em to me.”

“I thought
I
was gonna be the new Madame Tangley,” whined Roberta. Her voice was a shrieking assault to the senses, like the creaking of an unoiled hinge. “You promised me.”

“Have you looked in the mirror lately? Nobody—including me—wants to look at you anymore.” Baker sneered and reached for a cigar. He lit it and blew the smoke straight at Miss Amiss. “Madame Tangley must be beautiful.”

Roberta’s eyes flashed and her face contorted. “I
used
to be beautiful. At least that’s what you told me.” She put her hand to her cancer-eaten face. “Why isn’t your precious cure working for me? Maybe you
are
a quack like everybody says. A short little quack!”

“Get
out
!”

Miss Amiss stared with loathing at Dr. Baker, walked to the dresser, picked up the radio, and jerked the cord out of its socket. Ivy shrank back, terrified she was going to hit her with it. But then the rampaging woman turned, slammed the radio against the wall, and threw its remains down the stairwell.

“You’ll pay for that,” Baker hissed. His eyes flashed and his hands balled into fists.

Roberta’s twisted smile changed from triumph to fear when she read the fury in his expression. She backed away, the sapphires still flashing at her ears, and then turned and stomped down the stairs. Ivy cringed when from somewhere downstairs she heard more shouting, crashing noises, and then the sound of heavy footsteps ascending. She smelled Earl Twitchell long before she saw his repulsive face peek into the bedroom.

“Everythin’ okay up here, boss?” He flashed a gap-toothed grin at Ivy and patted his front shirt pocket which held the sapphires. “Got the jools back. Hoo boy! Was that bitch ever mad.”
Harry lay in the pine box, willing himself to remain calm as he fought against the claustrophobia that threatened to engulf him. Pitch black surrounded him. He could barely breathe. But he’d experienced worse than this in jail, so he knew he could handle it. He mentally relaxed, put his finger to his neck, and counted off the rhythm of his pulse until it slowed.

The hearse made a sharp turn and Harry braced himself against the narrow sides of the casket. The sway of the ride made him queasy and he practiced deep breathing until the sensation passed. He couldn’t afford to be sick now. He was on his way to get his wife.

The anticipation of seeing Ivy again cheered him and he tried not to think about the dangers ahead. He smiled when he remembered the look on Sydney’s face when he heard his outrageous idea. Most folks would have laughed in his face and called him insane, but not Sydney. He’d seen the inherent possibility of success and agreed to help.

They’d chosen an undertaker who lived above one of several funeral homes in town. He’d been surly at first, called away from his favorite radio show on a blustery Sunday evening for an
emergency
pickup at the Baker Hospital, but the promise of cash in advance had softened his attitude. No, it couldn’t wait until morning, Sydney had assured him. It must be tonight or not at all.

The mortician had been furious when Sydney chose the cheapest, flimsiest casket in his inventory. But the offer of an extra hundred dollars for his after-hours service held great influence and the bargain had been struck. Now Harry’s biggest concern was finding Ivy once he was inside the hospital.

Harry’s heart thudded when he felt the vehicle stop, then reverse, then stop again. The banging of the driver’s door told him they had arrived. He counted to thirty before he reached forward and slowly pushed the coffin lid up. It wasn’t hinged, so it slid easily to the side and he crawled out.

He scrambled to the front of the hearse and climbed out through the driver’s door just in time. Darkness and a tall hedge that bordered the building provided adequate hiding. Its leaves were wet and the cold and damp soaked through his cotton shirt and onto his bare head. He held his breath and watched the men argue.

“I just told ya! You’re s’posed to have a corpsie ready fer me ta pick up. Fella said it was some kinda ‘mergency.”

“Don’t know nothin’ ‘bout no bodies tonight.” The security guard scratched his head. “Been real quiet-like. We wuz just about to listen to ole Charlie McCarthy.”

“Humph. Guess I’ll miss half of it ‘cause of this wild goose chase.” The undertaker grumbled and spat on the ground “That feller better not ask fer a refund.” He climbed in the hearse and drove away without noticing the disturbed coffin.

“Andy! I’m goin’ on break. Take over, will ya?” Harry watched the guard light a cigarette and heard his footsteps as he walked away.

Once the guard was gone, Harry crept out of the bushes and gawked at the huge building. He was at the rear of the hospital near the lower level service entrance, but even from there it was an awe-inspiring sight. From a distance, it had always seemed surreal, like a medieval fortress floating in the clouds. Up close it appeared even bigger, like a hungry giant waiting for him to come closer so it could snatch him up.

Near the back door Harry noticed a large brick incinerator with smoke rising from a tall, round chimney. Even from a distance he could feel the heat that emanated from the closed metal door, yet a chill ran down his spine.
A goose just walked over my grave
, he thought—at least that’s what Ma always said.

He shook his head to banish such fanciful notions, glanced over his shoulder, and sidled through the open door. Harry jumped when the outer door swung to with a bang behind him. He squinted in the darkness and followed a distant light, holding his breath as he crept carefully through a narrow hallway.

Shadows played with his imagination when he stepped into a dimly lit room. He stared in horror at the stainless steel tables and shining surgical instruments neatly spread out, ready for use. His foot stepped in something wet and sticky. He gagged at the smell of the thick red liquid oozing slowly down the drain in the floor.

He glanced to the right and saw the specimen jars, full of unspeakable things, lined up on the shelves. He put his hand to his mouth, gagged by the smell of chemicals and death—and then he froze when he felt something cold and metallic poke him in the ribs.

“Okay, mister. Hold it right there.”

“Get your hands up and turn around. Now!”

Harry froze and raised his hands. The distorted shadow of a man loomed large in the murky dungeon and the unmistakable click of a gun’s hammer being cocked sent his heart racing. He’d barely gotten inside the hospital. Had he come this far, only to fail?

With his hands in the air, Harry turned to face his captor. After being ordered around in jail over the past several months, he automatically obeyed. Despair settled over him, his pulses slowed, and his stomach felt hollow. His feet and hands grew cold with fear.

“Who are ya and what’re ya doin’ here?”

A sudden vision of his beautiful wife skittered across Harry’s mind and adrenalin coursed through his veins. He’d come here to save her and he couldn’t fail. He must be brave—for Ivy’s sake.

Harry sized up the security guard. His nametag read
Hospital Security – Andy Farmer
. At six feet one, Harry considered himself taller than average, but this guy was practically a giant, towering several inches over him. He looked too big and strong to easily overpower, and besides, having the drop on Harry with a .38 revolver definitely gave him the advantage.

Hoping to put a little space between him and the firearm, Harry took a step back. His shoe slid in a puddle on the floor and his foot made a sucking sound. “What kinda place is this?”

“It’s a hospital morgue,” Andy replied without changing expression. “Come on. What’s your name? Ain’t got all day.”

The big man waved the gun and Harry stepped back even farther, studying his face. He didn’t have the cocky attitude or sense of superiority of the jailers who’d spent their time making his life a living hell over the past few months. A glimmer of hope began to grow.

“I’m looking for somebody who’s a patient here—a girl.”

The guard lowered his gun a notch. “What’s her name?”

Harry hesitated. If he blurted out whom he was searching for, he might lose any chance of saving Ivy. On the other hand, he had no idea where to look for her in this gigantic building. He needed help. He cautiously reached in his pocket and pulled out the wad of cash Sydney had given him. Bribery might work when all else failed.

“Her name’s Ivy. I can pay you.” He held the money toward the guard. “Will you help me?”

Andy lowered the gun the rest of the way, stared at Harry and grinned, but he didn’t reach for the money. “Ivy? Are you looking for Ivy Fuller? You must be Harry.”

Harry nodded, amazed.

“I seen your picture one time on her bureau an’ she tole me ‘bout ya. She’s Anna’s friend.” A tender smile transformed the big man’s face. He pulled an extra security cap and jacket off a peg and tossed them to Harry. “Here. Put these on. I’ll take ya to her.”
Emma returned to her room, frantic with worry and fearing for Ivy’s safety. She’d heard the screaming and cursing about a broken radio from the penthouse above. She was certain Ivy was in Dr. Baker’s clutches. But what could she do? Sick with fear and fighting back the agonizing pain that gnawed at her belly, she paced the room.

Zan had always told her she needed to be more spontaneous, to relax and go with the flow. But that kind of thinking made her panic, fueling her terror of the unknown and loss of control. She only felt comfortable when she was on a precise schedule. She missed her BlackBerry almost as much as she missed Zan.

Here she was, alone in a strange time and place, with her and Zan’s entire destiny hinging on her ability to
fly by the seat of her pants
. Could she do it without her organizational tools? She had no other choice.

A movement from the corner of the bedroom caught Emma’s attention. She glanced at Theodora, lying on the bed, with her cat still guarding her body. Her skin prickled with goosebumps when she felt a draft. The misty outline of a long-haired man appeared, lifted something from the dresser, and then faded away.

Michael was back.

Emma’s heart beat faster as she watched the Ouija board float across the room and settle on her bed. Apparently, Michael wanted her to communicate with someone. Did Theodora have something else to tell her?

She sat on the edge of the bed and placed her fingers lightly on the planchette, hoping she was doing it correctly. The last time she’d used a Ouija board had been at a slumber party when she was thirteen. She remembered it needed at least two people to operate, but apparently not this time. The small triangle-shaped object began to vibrate and glide across the board.

Emma’s fingers tingled from the energy of the planchette. It seemed to move with a purpose and she watched in awe as whoever—or whatever—communicated with her.

are you michael
spelled out across the board.

Emma pushed the planchette:
no

what is your name
came the reply.

She spelled out:
emma fuller

are you a spirit

Emma’s eyebrows rose and she moved the planchette:
no

who and where are you

The planchette moved again:
ryan pittman crescent hotel

Emma gasped and replied:
im at crescent hotel too
then added:
baker hospital 1938

are you dr bakers patient

yes
then, before it could reply, she spelled out:
what day is it for you

October 30 2011

im from 2011 too but trapped in time

how

do not know was in room 419 hit head

are you woman on news

Emma’s heart jumped and she eagerly moved the planchette:
do not know must get message to zan fuller can you help

She held her breath as she waited. Excitement filled her at the thought of communicating with someone across time.

will try what is message

Emma scanned her memory for her brother’s message at the séance, hoping she had heard him correctly. She had no idea what it meant:
tell zan lockbox tea for two 419

will try

find ring inside wall room 419 please

will try

thanks

is that all

She thought for a moment before adding:
tell zan I love him he lives in texas address is…

The planchette suddenly jerked out of her control, as some unseen force spelled out
husband at hospital rogers ar

A premonition of dread coursed down her spine as she asked the question:
why am i on news

in coma they want your heart

Emma jumped when someone rapped on the door and the Ouija board’s energy suddenly ceased. She’d lost the connection into the future. Who could have interrupted at such a crucial moment? And what was all this business about her heart? She rose, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

“Andy…and Harry?” She gasped and motioned them both inside. Except for his sandy brown hair, Harry looked exactly like Zan’s brother, Allen. “Come in, come in…”

When the two men stepped into the room, it took all of Emma’s self-control not to throw her arms around Harry’s neck. He greeted her politely as he gazed at his surroundings.

“Miss Anna, Harry’s lookin’ for Miss Ivy, but she don’t answer her door. D’you know where she is?” Andy glanced toward the bedroom and saw Theodora. “Is Miz Hardcastle feelin’ porely?”

Emma looked at Theodora, not quite ready to tell Andy the truth. She put her finger to her lips. “She’s napping right now. We probably shouldn’t disturb her. I’ll make sure Harry finds Ivy. Okay, Andy?”

“Sure thing, Miss Anna.” Andy’s face lit up. “I’d best get back downstairs or else they’ll get mad. I won’t say anything about Harry visiting.”

Andy closed the door behind him and Emma turned her attention to Harry. She put her hand on his arm and glanced at the ceiling. “Thank God you’ve come. Ivy’s in Baker’s penthouse. We need to hurry.”

Harry’s voice was tinged with panic. “How’re we gonna get Ivy away from Baker without him knowing?”

“I have a plan. It’s risky, but it ought to work.” Emma had a plan, all right. A half-baked one, but she couldn’t let Harry know that.

She led the way to the door in the wall next to Theodora’s bed. Bob’s green eyes glowed and his half-tail twitched, but he didn’t budge from his mistress’s side. Fear began to coil inside her when she peeked into the dark hole, recalling the terror she’d faced when she’d been thrown in there before. How could she send Harry there after what had happened to her? Her heart sank when she saw how dark it was. “I know there’s a ladder that goes up to the penthouse. But it’s so dark…”

Harry fumbled in the borrowed jacket and pulled out a flashlight. “We’re in luck.” He flicked on the light and the tunnel lit up. “I see it.” He moved the light in different directions. “There seems to be a whole network of passages.”

Emma’s heart pounded. So the legends had been true. If their luck held out, Baker’s secret tunnels would be Ivy and Harry’s means of escape. If only she could figure out some way to distract Baker.

“Baker’s got armed guards patrolling the hospital grounds, so you’ve got to be careful. I was told a tunnel runs somewhere near the elevator and out into the woods. If you can find your way, you stand a good chance of getting out safely,” cautioned Emma. “Do you have anyone outside the hospital that can help you once you’re free?”

Harry nodded. “Um hm. My lawyer, Sydney, is waitin’ for us in town.”

Emma had a sudden premonition. “Harry, you must be very careful. If Baker and his goons find out what you’ve done, they’ll follow you. Ivy told me what happened to Doc Pruett. I think Earl Twitchell is the pyromaniac who’s been setting all the fires, so watch out for him.”

Harry grinned and Emma’s heart flipped when she saw the Fuller smile. “Oh, I’ll steer clear of Earl, all right! Sydney’s fiancé, Margot, is waitin’ for us out by the lake. Her daddy bought her a new Stinson Reliant and she’s gonna fly us to Little Rock. I ain’t never been in an airplane before.”

Emma and Harry looked up in surprise when the radio suddenly came on and the announcer’s voice boomed into the room, “The Columbia Broadcasting System and its affiliated stations present Orson Welles and
The Mercury Theatre on the Air
in
The War of the Worlds
by H. G. Wells…”

“How’d that happen?” Harry scratched his head and stared at the radio.

Orson Welles’ satiny voice caressed the airwaves. “We know now that in the early years of the twentieth century this world ...”

Emma tensed. The radio had come on by itself, so she assumed
somebody
was trying to get her attention. With all the ghosts in this place, nothing surprised her anymore. But she couldn’t help being awed by what she was hearing. She’d read about this famous radio broadcast in history books and she knew how the realism of the presentation had panicked the entire nation. Could they use it as a diversion long enough to let Harry and Ivy get away?

“That’s
it
!” cried Emma. “I’ll tell Baker Earth is being attacked by Martians.”