Chapter 15
If Joey and Alex had been playing a prank, or worse, Addison thought, they were hiding it well. The pair of them were just going about their business. Nothing out of the ordinary.
So what was going on?
Addison turned her attention to her handlink. Surely Ziggy had some suggestion.
Okay, 93% likelihood that Ben and Sam need to get to the bottom of the weird occurrences. 43% possibility that Alex is the culprit, and 22% that it’s Joey. Chance of a hidden accomplice running around that I’ve somehow missed is 37%.
Chance that it’s a ghost… 24%. That’s higher than I would have expected, coming from a computer.
“Addison!” Janis’s voice cut through her train of thought. Addison looked up from the handlink to see her rival staring at her with alarm. She suppressed her initial feeling of annoyance upon seeing how serious Janis seemed to be.
“What is it…?”
“The door of a padded cell slammed on Ben and Sam and they can’t get out,” Janis said, frantic. “And their walkie-talkies are dead so they can’t call for help.”
“Oh my god, I hate this leap,” Addison said, and used her handlink to transport both of them to Ben.
When the padded room faded into view, both Ben and Sam were sprinkling salt from McDonalds packages on the floor.
“Uh… what have I missed here?” Janis asked, completely baffled, as Addison caught sight of some ripped up padding on the floor, with Iris’s phone nestled inside.
“Is… is that…?”
“Sure is,” Ben said, kneeling in front of the perplexing discovery. “It was literally under the padding. I have no idea how it could have got there, and it’s got me a little on edge. Ian told me Jenn said ghosts don’t like salt. So…” He ripped open one of the packets and dumped it into the opening in the floor.
“Why would Jenn know that?” Addison asked, confused.
“Ian said she went through an occult phase. I dunno! Better safe than sorry, right? I’m running out of scientific explanations here.”
As this conversation had progressed, Janis had moved to Sam, who was looking more than a little shaken.
“You okay?” she asked him.
“Pretty far from it,” he mumbled as he emptied his last salt packet in front of him. “But at least it’s the right kind of room to lose my mind in,” he added drily.
“We’ve gotta get out of here, Addison,” Ben pleaded. “Any ideas? The door won’t budge.”
“Have you tried both kicking it at once?” Addison suggested.
“We can try, but the padding will absorb most of the impact. I already tried kicking it myself, and my foot just bounced off.”
“Wait, wait—” Janis said. “There’s literally a phone right here. Can’t you use it?”
Ben stared at the phone for a moment. “Huh.”
He reached into the hole, and pulled up the phone. As he did, he paused, looking down into the cavity.
“What is it?” Addison asked.
“I don’t know…” he muttered, and pulled some of the stuffing out of the hole. “I think there’s writing.”
He held the phone to Sam. “Can you check this, I just…”
Sam stared at the phone a moment, before extending a trembling hand to it. As his fingers closed around it, he flinched as though it was going to start ringing again. But nothing happened. His tense look softened, and he drew the phone to himself. Ben returned to digging around in the padding, tearing more of the rubber.
As the writing was revealed, Addison’s mouth fell open, and Sam lost his grip on the phone.
“Oh boy.”
In black marker, the phrase: “My name is Sam Beiderman” was written.
And as Ben pulled away more of the padding, the phrase appeared over and over, scrawled on the floorboards haphazardly.
Ben and Janis exchanged a look of puzzlement.
“Who’s Sam Beiderman?” they asked in unison.
Addison opened her mouth to answer, but was abruptly cut off by the hologram around her glitching and filling with static, before fizzling out completely, leaving her and Janis in the Imaging Chamber.
“Oh, you have got to be kidding me!” she shouted in frustration.
“Hey,” Janis said, raising her hands defensively, “I promise it wasn’t me this time.”
* * *
As the two holograms flickered and vanished, a terrified Sam grabbed for the phone at his feet, only to find it was gone. Again.
How was this happening? It had to be a horrible nightmare, surely. This was all too unbelievable.
Sure, as unbelievable as God having a day job as a bartender.
“Ben, the—” he began, before losing his voice when he realised Ben was nowhere in sight. He was alone in the room. “Ben…?”
He crossed to where Ben had been tearing up the padding, and looked down at the writing.
Had Sam Beiderman written this? Why? When?
Sam dropped to his knees and tore more of the padding away. The writing kept going. The same phrase, over and over.
But when Sam ripped up one more piece, he was alarmed to see something else.
“My name is Sam Beiderman BEN SONG.”
“Oh my god… what…”
He stood, stumbling backwards and clutching at the wall to steady himself. But as his body impacted the soft wall, his eyes filled with a sudden bright light.
As he blinked, his blurred eyes slowly brought his surroundings into view, and he saw that he was still in the padded room. But now it was lit up and clean. Newer. The hole in the floor was gone, and he could feel the floor on the soles of his feet. What happened to his shoes?
He rubbed at his eyes, still trying to adjust to the change in lighting, and looking down he noticed he was wearing a hospital gown.
This has got to be some kind of delusion, or hallucination, right? I’ve finally lost it, here in the padded cell. How on-the-nose.
In the window of the door, a woman’s face appeared. Sam glared at the face that he was sure he recognised. A nurse?
“Mister Beiderman, it’s time for your therapy session. Will you be cooperating today?” her voice was tired and flat, as if she didn’t usually receive a positive answer to this question.
Sam bit his lip. “Uh. Sure thing,” he said slowly.
The nurse’s expression brightened. “Oh, am I ever glad to hear that.”
The door opened, and Sam stepped forward cautiously, studying the woman. Yeah, he had definitely met her before. Nurse… what was it… Nurse Chatam? She looked older, but he was sure it was her.
She’d been around the whole time during that terrible leap, but she wanted to help. She’d reluctantly administered that last shock; the one that set his mind back into place.
Sam shivered, and silently walked up to her, his eyes darting around, trying to find signs that this was just his mind playing tricks on him, or some kind of horrid dream.
“Right this way, Sam,” the woman said, gently taking hold of his hand. “I’m glad you’re lucid today. Doctor Masters will be pleased.”
Oh boy.