The Haunting of Pitmon House (8 page)

“Bad? What do you mean, bad?”

“This is the address of Pitmon House.”

The name meant nothing to Eliza. She stared at Rachel
expectantly. “So?”

“And,” Rachel continued, “it’s notorious. You don’t go there.
No one goes there.”

“Why?”

Rachel sighed. “You’ve never heard of it, obviously.”

“Obviously.”

“Well, it’s well known in gifted circles. Haunted. Not just
normal haunted, dangerously haunted. Like, you can die haunted.”

“Don’t tell me, after all we’ve done so far, you’re afraid of
a haunted house?” Eliza said. “Seriously?”

“I don’t think you’re hearing me accurately,” Rachel replied.
“It’s not some abandoned house at the end of the street that the kids dare each
other to enter. This place is hard to get into, and dangerous as hell once you
do. People have died there; people who knew what they were doing!”

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to respond to that,” Eliza
said. “You’re saying this is the solution for Shane, but we can’t solve it? We
can’t help him? What do we do, then?”

Rachel sat down next to Eliza. “I don’t know.”

“Dixon mentioned the name Yessler,” Eliza continued. “You
ever heard it before?”

“No.”

“He said it was connected to that address, the address you
say is the Pitmon House. Do I have it right?”

“Yes.”

“Connected how?”

“I don’t know.”

“Like, Yessler lives there?”

“No one lives there, not anymore. It’s been abandoned for
decades.”

“Then Yessler used to live there?”

“I don’t know!” Rachel said, becoming exasperated. She stood
and walked into the kitchen. “I can’t just pull answers out of my ass!”

Eliza bit her tongue. She could tell something was off with
Rachel; the news from Dixon seemed to have extinguished her enthusiasm for
helping her. Eliza felt no such dampening, however, and didn’t understand
Rachel’s reticence.

“You got me started on all of this,” Eliza said, choosing her
words carefully. “You can’t just abandon me because of something that scares
you.”

“I’m not scared!” Rachel shot back. “It’s just that…”

“What?”

Rachel paused, looking around the kitchen as though she had
misplaced something. “Listen, I’m not scared, alright? That isn’t it.”

“Then what?”

“I…there was…” She dropped her hands to her sides in
frustration. “I can’t find the fucking lighter!”

“Fuck the lighter!” Eliza said, standing up. “If you’re not
scared, then what?”

Rachel walked back into the living room, confronting Eliza.
“You should be grateful for what I’ve shown you already! You wouldn’t even know
anything about how Shane was infected or what did it to him if it weren’t for
me!”

It was another sudden change in Rachel’s demeanor, surprising
Eliza. “I am grateful,” Eliza said slowly.

“I never really wanted to get back into all this, you know! I
just felt sorry for you, for Shane. I thought I could help. I don’t think I can
any longer.”

Eliza’s head was in a whirlwind, trying to understand
Rachel’s sudden reaction. “What, you’re abandoning me? All this, and I have to
figure out the rest on my own?”

“It’s more complicated than you understand,” Rachel replied
dismissively, turning to walk back into the kitchen.

Eliza felt the confusion turn to anger. “That’s pretty
condescending,” she said, and walked to the trailer door. She heard Rachel say
“Eliza, wait,” as she slammed it shut behind her. She walked to her car, got
in, and started it up. As she backed up so she could turn and drive down
Rachel’s driveway, she saw the trailer door open, Rachel standing inside.

Screw you!
she thought, and stepped on the accelerator, kicking up
rocks.
If you don’t want to help, fine! Don’t help.

She sped down the driveway, fishtailing a little. When she
reached the main road, she came to a stop and took a deep breath.
1431
Hilltop Street, Middleton. I’ll go there myself. I was planning on going in to
see Shane, anyway.

She drove slowly, trying to determine if the large brick wall
to her right was the address she was after or not. When she arrived at a large
iron gate, she stopped and got out.

The sun had gone down, and there were streetlights farther
down the road; here, at the top of a slight hill, things seemed dark. She
walked up to the iron gates. They towered above her, reaching sharp, ornamental
points. Embedded into the brick of the wall to her left was a metal plaque that
read “1431 — Pitmon House.” Someone had hammered at the raised brass lettering
with a rock, causing several dents in the name Pitmon.

She stared at the house through the gate. It sat back from
the street; a long cement walkway stretched from the gate to its front doors.
She expected to see overgrown trees and bushes, and weeds poking up through the
cracks in the cement, but instead she found it perfectly manicured. Someone
obviously kept it up.

Big red bricks had been used in the construction of the house,
and it looked solid, like a bank. Large wings ran to the left and the right
from the center section. Rising almost three stories, it gave the impression of
a fortress. The front door was recessed beyond a porch, but she thought she
could see stained glass in its window.

She turned from the gate, examining the brick walls of the
fence. They stood eight feet high and two feet thick, and were topped with more
ironwork. As far as she could tell, the wall completely encircled the
structure, heightening its sense of permanence and impenetrability.

She knew she wouldn’t be scaling the walls tonight; they were
too high, and she had no way to climb them. She glanced up and down the street;
it was silent and dark, even at 9:30. The nearest house sat across the road, fifty
feet down the hill. If she had the right equipment, she could scale the wall
and get inside without being seen.

Not tonight,
she reiterated. If she was being completely honest, Rachel’s
comments about the place had scared her a little, and she wasn’t sure that
going in alone was the best idea. However, Shane looked even worse when she
stopped at the hospital earlier, and she knew she had to proceed, even if
Rachel wasn’t going to help.

Well, now at least I have a sense of it,
she thought, wondering if she should
drop into the River for a moment and drift through the iron gate.

What are my options?
I either explore this place, or I try to dig up as much
research as I can. Or both.

She grabbed the iron bars with her hands, intending to hold
onto them while she entered the River. They were cold and a little moist. She
held on, and allowed herself to slip into the flow.

She passed through the gate and drifted over the landscaped
yard. After thirty feet she came to the porch. There were no cobwebs or signs
of neglect; the thin wooden trim surrounding the brick looked freshly painted.

She moved to the door, instinctively reaching for the handle
before she remembered she didn’t need to open it. She stopped outside, looking
at the stained glass that comprised its window.

Something behind the glass moved, startling her. She stepped
back.

Instantly she dropped from the River, and she released her
grip on the iron bars. “Whoa,” she muttered. “Maybe Rachel was right.”

She returned to her car.
Rachel’s protection,
she
thought.
I need that if I’m gonna enter the house. Maybe I can get her to
give me more of that stuff. I’ll have to talk to her tomorrow and see.

She slowly drove away, beginning to regret walking out on Rachel.
Rachel obviously knew more about the Pitmon House than she did, and she needed
to know what Rachel knew. She resolved to apologize to Rachel the next day, and
see if she could put things back on track.

Even if she won’t go into the place herself,
Eliza thought,
I think I can get
her to at least help, once she understands that I’m committed and she can’t
stop me.

She rehearsed what to say to Rachel all the way home.

●

“I’m sorry about last night,” Eliza said, whispering to
Rachel as she filled the fudge stand. “I was pissed.”

“I understand,” Rachel whispered back. “Let’s talk during a
smoke break, if Lois will cooperate.”

Eliza made sure to pick up a couple of the tasks that Lois
normally completed each morning, so that when they asked to take a smoke break
together, she’d be in a good mood and give them the go-ahead. It worked, and
Eliza found herself sitting on a bench with Rachel as she puffed away.

“I drove by it last night,” Eliza said.

Rachel pulled the cigarette from her lips, her mouth opening a
little. She stared at Eliza as though she had plants growing out of her ears.

“Are you crazy?” Rachel asked. “After what I told you?”

“I have to pursue this,” Eliza replied. “It’s Shane’s life at
stake. I can’t just dead-end this and pretend there’s nothing to follow up on.”

Rachel softened her look. “I know,” she said, taking a drag.
“I know, I know. I understand completely. It’s just me.”

“Why?” Eliza asked. “What about this stops you?”

Rachel paused. “Yeah, you’re right,” she replied, then looked
up at Eliza. “I’m letting it stop me, aren’t I?”

Eliza sighed. “Rachel, something’s going on with you. I wish
you’d tell me what it is. If you’re afraid of this place, I get it. I
understand.”

Rachel dropped her gaze to the ground while she took another
long drag on her cigarette. “It’s not me I’m worried about. It’s you.”

“Me?”

“Years ago, I was helping someone, just like you, just like
I’m helping you now. He was young and gifted and had his whole life ahead of
him.” She paused, caught up in the memory.

“Yes?” Eliza asked, hoping it would gently nudge her to
continue.

“Let’s just say,” Rachel replied, “things didn’t go well.
Actually, they went very bad. He was permanently hurt. I don’t know if it was
my fault or not. At the time I was convinced it was, but as time has gone on,
I’m not so sure. Even so, it was bad.”

“Is that when you sold all your stuff?” Eliza asked.

“Yes,” Rachel said, taking another puff. “I decided I
wouldn’t have anything more to do with it; it was too dangerous. I stopped
practicing, auctioned off all my things, and didn’t take a step into the River
for almost ten years. Then this thing with Shane happened, and you looked so
worried, so upset…I felt I had to say something, at least get you moving down
the path to solving it. You had all this potential, and you seemed hardly aware
of it.” She looked up, giving Eliza a weak smile.

“And you did!” Eliza said. “You did get things moving! At
first I wasn’t sure, but after seeing the ghosts in the exhibit, and Jack, and
the Tapura, I get it now, I’m completely on board. I need to finish it. Shane’s
getting worse, Rachel. I saw him again last night, and the skin on his face was
starting to lose its color. It was scary. I’m far more scared of what will
happen to him than I am of what might be in that house.”

“That’s only because you don’t know about that place,” Rachel
said. “If you did, you wouldn’t be so anxious.”

“What choice do I have?” Eliza pleaded. “I have to pursue it,
whether you help me or not. I understand that something went wrong in your past;
I get it. But I really need your help right now. I need to know what you know.
I need to know about Pitmon House.”

Rachel sighed as she tamped out her cigarette. “I suppose it
was a little unfair of me to start this all rolling and not finish it with you.”

“Damn right.”

“I’m not perfect, you know,” she said, standing up. “Relying
on me might get you killed.”

“It’s a chance I’ll have to take.”

A weak smile crossed Rachel’s face, quickly replaced by
worry. “Let me make a phone call. Do you have a free evening?”

“I can make it free.”

“Good,” Rachel said, walking back to the gift shop. “I’m
going to set up an appointment with someone. Goddamnit, I hope I’m doing the
right thing.”

“You are,” Eliza replied, following her. “You’re doing the
right thing for Shane.”

“We’ll see,” Rachel said. “I’ve done what I thought was the
right thing before, only to have it blow up in my face.”

“It’s on me,” Eliza said. “I don’t blame you, and I won’t.
From this point on, it’s all on me.”

Rachel didn’t reply as they made their way back.

●

“So what’s this guy’s name again?” Eliza asked as she parked
in front of a large rolling door in the industrial outskirts of Madison.

“Granger,” Rachel replied. “He’s the foremost expert on
haunted houses in the area. All the ghost TV shows use him to figure out
locations to film in.”

“Gifted?” Eliza asked.

“You better believe it,” Rachel replied, getting out of the
car. They walked to the door and Rachel knocked. After a minute it rolled up
from the floor, exposing an older man wearing a pair of dirty overalls. Behind
him was a large garage, filled with tables. Two desks sat in the back; another
man was seated at one of them.

“Rachel!” the old man said, smiling. “Long time!”

“Hello, Arnie,” Rachel replied. “Yes, it has been.”

The man behind the desk rose and walked toward them. Eliza
was immediately taken by his size; he stood six foot four, and had a massive
chest. As he approached, she could see a bit of a swagger to his walk, a signal
of confidence that she found appealing. He had long white hair and a white
goatee, and was very tan. He walked up to Rachel and gave her a hug.

“You bugger,” he said to her. “Didn’t know if I’d ever see
you again.”

He released her, and she took a step back, blushing. “Nice to
see you too, Granger.”

“And who’s this?” Granger asked, turning to Eliza.

“Eliza, meet Granger,” Rachel replied. “Granger, Eliza
Winters.”

“Nice to meet you,” Eliza said, extending her hand. Granger
ignored it and she was suddenly wrapped up in his arms, pressed against him for
a big hug.

“We’re huggers,” Granger said. “Aren’t we, Rachel.”

“You are indeed,” Rachel answered.

Granger released Eliza. She caught her breath as she stepped
back, sure that her face was red.

“Robert?” Rachel asked.

“Out,” Granger replied. “Might be back later. How ’ya been,
Rachel? I’ve missed you.”

“Me too,” she replied. “I meant to call, I really did.”

“I wasn’t offended,” Granger replied. “I understand. Just
glad you called. What can I do for you?”

“Eliza and I could use some help,” she started.

“Come over here and sit,” Granger said, motioning to two old
sofas in the corner. They walked past tables; Eliza was expecting to see car
parts, since the place looked exactly like a auto garage, but the items she saw
didn’t bear any resemblance to cars. Banks of equipment lined the walls; she
recognized a welder, but most of it was foreign to her. As she sat on one of
the sofas, she realized they were bucket seats removed from old automobiles.
They were surprisingly comfortable.

Rachel began to relate the story of Shane, the object at The
House on the Rock, and the patterns they had detected. When she got to the
address in Middleton, she paused.

“Don’t tell me,” Granger replied. “Pitmon.”

Rachel smiled weakly. “Yeah.”

“Well,” Granger said. “That makes it much, much harder.”

“If it’s even possible,” Rachel replied.

“Will someone please tell me what the deal is with this
house?” Eliza said.

“You didn’t tell her?” Granger asked Rachel.

“I thought I’d leave that for the master,” Rachel replied.
“Nobody knows haunted houses around here better than you.”

“Yeah, but I haven’t looked into Pitmon in years. Not since
Nick.”

“I thought so,” Rachel replied.

“My brother’s life is at stake,” Eliza said. “I would really
appreciate it if someone would explain to me what the big deal is.”

Granger turned to her. “An old associate of mine, Nick Fesco,
was investigating in that house years ago. He was working on a case for
someone; I don’t even remember the details of it now, but I do remember what he
told me about the place. He wound up dying in that house. Ever since then, I’ve
had nothing to do with it. I keep away, as do most people with sense.”

“Do the TV people want to go there?” Rachel asked.

“They’ve never heard of it, and I’ll never send them there,”
Granger replied. “Far too dangerous. They can make any dark house look scary;
they don’t need to place their lives at risk to shoot footage of thumps. No, I
never talk about that place with anyone, and I don’t send people there. Not
since Nick.”