Chapter 8
“Check out the pentagram,” Alex said, gesturing to the symbol on the floor as Ben entered the asylum once again. “We can definitely work with this. Something about sinister Satanic rituals in the dead of night… that kind of crap.”
Joey already had his camera pointed at the marking, getting an artsy shot of dead leaves drifting across the ominous five-pointed star with the breeze.
Addison stood cautiously against the wall, watching Iris, who was standing off to one side, quietly looking down a corridor. Ben studied her face; she looked almost terrified.
Addison had decided to keep a close watch on her at all times, and Ben couldn’t really argue with that after what Ziggy was saying. The weird—and slightly maddening—thing was that Ziggy couldn’t seem to pinpoint what danger Iris was actually in.
“Iris? You alright?” he called out, causing the blond woman to snap out of her lost state and turn back to him with a forced smile.
“Huh? Oh—yeah! Yeah, no sweat.” She came closer to the group, hands in her jean pockets. “So what’s the plan?”
Alex stepped forward, taking charge.
“Right, people. We’re going to go from room to room, placing recording devices in each. We’ll pay particular attention to the rooms that are believed to be haunted. Greg and I will do a tour of the place together to start, and then each spend some time solo in the rooms, while Iris will hide out with the EMF emitter and cause a few paranormal happenings, making sure not to be seen by the camera.” He turned to Ben. “G-man, make sure to be engaging with the camera wherever possible, and—” he winked, “—don’t forget to squeal like a little girl.”
“You got it,” Ben said, internally cringing.
“And Joey,” Alex continued, “make sure you’re recording at all times, and monitoring the sound.”
“What am I, an amateur?” Joey asked, offended.
“Until we got the pilot grant, we all were,” Alex countered. “And we will be again if we don’t get this right.”
“Touché.”
“So let’s kick this thing’s ass, y’all.”
He held out a fist to each of the crew to bump, and when they were done, everyone jumped into action.
* * *
Ben and Alex stood in the dark mess hall, the only lights visible to them being beamed from their headlamps. It was cold in the large room, and Ben could feel a draught on his arm that made him shiver—the broken windows were beginning to bother him, now that it was night. He wondered if animals could have taken up residence in this place, and if they’d accidentally run into some fox or raccoon taking shelter in the building. He bit his lip, thinking that if his hand randomly touched something warm and furry, he probably would squeal like a little girl for real.
“Here we are in the mess hall,” Alex said to the camera, “where patients would come for their meals—unless they were in isolation. Reportedly, there’s a ghost named Bob who roams the ruins of this cafeteria, looking for one last meal. And unless you leave him a plate, he’ll pull your hair until you leave.”
Alex turned to Ben. “Want to do the honours?”
Ben shrugged, and held up his EMF meter, turning to the empty space behind him.
“Uh… hello! Bob!” he called out through the darkness, holding up a bag of chips and shaking it. “We’re here to talk! Are you here, Bob? We’ve got a snack for you if you show yourself to us…”
Across the room, a metal clanking rang out—a result of Iris hiding behind a table and hitting a metal tray against it. Ben reacted with the best look of terror he could muster, knowing that it was all mere fakery.
“Uh… Bob? Is that you?” he asked, wavering his voice as he inched forward.
“Hey Bob,” Alex called out, “if you’re really there, make that noise again!”
The sound repeated, and Ben and Alex looked at each other, mouths open, as the needle on their EMF meters spiked. They then turned to the camera.
“You heard that, right?” Alex said. Ben laughed nervously, nodding.
The two of them crept towards the noise, and finally the metal tray clattered to the floor in front of them, its reflective surface catching the light of Ben’s headlamp. Ben jumped back, crying out, and turned to run away. As he passed Joey, he slowed to a stop and turned around to see Alex holding the tray up to the camera.
“And, cut. That was perfect,” Joey commented. “Nicely done, everyone.”
Iris climbed out from her hiding spot, wiping her brow. “I feel like such a fraud doing this,” she muttered, dialling the emitter in her hand to its off position. “Is this really what TV’s come to?”
“Gotta give the people what they want,” Alex said with a shrug. “Who the hell tunes into a ghost hunting show where they find nothing every week?”
Ben laughed. “A ghost hunting show where they really try to figure out the truth behind so-called hauntings? Yeah, that wouldn’t last a season.” He shot a quick look at Addison standing in the corner, her holographic self-illumination making her a shade more visible in the dim light.
“Okay people,” Alex called out, slapping his hands together, “let’s move it along.”
Joey switched to visible light as the group moved out into the corridor. As Ben followed them out, Alex was waiting by another door, arms folded.
“Okay, this is the electroshock room,” he explained, tapping on the door. “Reportedly, some mega abuse went on in here from time to time. Orderlies went a bit trigger happy on the voltage.”
He opened the door, revealing a small room with broken tiles on the walls and a high window overlooking a hospital bed. The boxy old ECT machine sat on a table beside it, long since disconnected from a power source. He stepped inside and gestured to the bed.
“Iris, I want you to hide underneath the bed and give it just a hint of a shake when Greg goes to check it out,” Alex said, grinning.
Ben noticed that Iris was hanging back from the room, staring at the bed with wide eyes.
“Under the—under the bed?” she asked in a high voice.
“Yeah, I think you can fit,” Alex said, crouching to check it out.
Iris was silent for a moment, before she took a deep breath and went into the room.
“N-no sweat,” she said, despite visibly sweating. She climbed under it, and stared up at the underside, limbs stiff and breath uneven. “Let’s get this over and done with.”
“Okay—come on, guys, let’s set up the take,” Alex said, herding Ben and Joey out of the room and shutting the door. Ben nodded to Addison, who had taken up a spot in the room to watch Iris.
* * *
Addison lowered herself to the floor, keeping her eyes on Iris’s face. She seemed to be getting a little more nervous by the second, here on the grimey floor in this moonlit room.
Addison, knowing what had taken place here fifty-six years prior, wasn’t exactly thrilled about spending time here either. But at least she was technically not really there.
Iris grunted, shifting her position. “It’s only a few minutes,” she muttered. “No biggie. I’m fine. This place doesn’t scare me at all.”
She was lying, of course. A moment later, her head turned towards Addison.
Ugh—don’t move! the Observer told herself sternly.
“Are you enjoying watching me squirm?” Iris whispered into the darkness, eyes narrowing. “Whoever—whatever you are?”
Addison bit her lip, trying to decide whether or not to try and reassure Iris that she was trying to help. But no—that could easily just make things worse. Make her more suspicious, more secretive. And probably more terrified. She had enough fear in her eyes already. It clearly wasn’t an act.
“Oh god, I’m losing my mind,” Iris continued, placing a hand over her eyes. “I wish there was someone there. Then I wouldn’t be alone in here.”
She took a deep breath, and returned her gaze to the underside of the bed.
And then there was a noise.
The ringing of a cell phone.
Addison glanced around the room. Had someone left their phone in here? When would that have happened? Ben didn’t have one to lose (again) and neither did Iris. The other two hadn’t stepped foot in here until a minute ago, and they hadn’t touched the bed.
Iris, too, seemed completely caught off-guard by the sound.
Panic rising in her expression, she pulled herself out from underneath the bed, and followed the sound to the top side of the bed.
With a shaking hand, she pulled aside a stiff, filthy sheet that looked as though it hadn’t been touched in decades—and there it was. A phone, lit up and jingling.
It was Iris’s phone.
“What…” Iris dropped the sheet, and backed away from the bed, eyes like saucers. “No. No, no…” she spun around and burst out of the door, taking off past the three others who were filming just outside the room.
“Iris?” Ben asked, watching her tear away down the corridor.
“Ben, go after her,” Addison instructed, and he nodded, turning around.
“Wait, Iris!” he called, dashing off into the darkness.
Addison took a moment to look down at the phone again, which abruptly stopped ringing. It couldn’t have been here. It couldn’t.
Not knowing what else to do about that, she flicked at her handlink to centre herself back on Ben, and the environment changed to the darkness. A single beam of light from Ben’s headlamp showed Iris rounding a corner and—
“Wait, you put tape over those stairs!” she cried, realising that Iris was now stomping up the doomed set of steps, with the gaffer tape nowhere in sight.
“Iris, stop!” Ben shouted—at the same time a great big crash signified that the stairs had collapsed. “Oh, god…”
A painstaking moment of silence elapsed.
“Greg… help me…”
“Ben, be careful,” Addison warned as he let his light shine on the staircase, where several steps midway up were now a gaping hole into a black void.
But Iris was hanging on to the banister with one hand, half of her body dangling in the hole.
“My hand… my hand’s slipping,” she said, straining.
Ben extended his hand, taking a tight hold of the banister himself by curling his elbow around it. “Here, hold on to me with your free hand, okay? I’ll get you to safety, I promise.”
“Okay…” Iris said, and reached out her hand.
What happened next made Addison stumble back in confusion. As Ben and Iris linked hands, Iris changed.
And as Ben pulled and the two of them sprawled onto the still-intact steps, there were now two men there.
“Oh my god. Ben, that’s Sam Beckett!” Addison exclaimed.
Ben stared at the older man, mouth hanging open.
“Oh boy,” he croaked.