Dark Halls - A Horror Novel Page 7

  ***

  The photograph of Highland Elementary’s staff from 2002 was on Ryan’s passenger seat, tucked safely away in the beige envelope from which it had come. Not once on the drive over did Ryan think about what he would do with his room today. His sole mission was to confront Karl with the photograph. After all, he had been the one who’d planted the photo on his windshield, hadn’t he? It had to be him. There was simply no other explanation.

  But Karl would be doing some explaining all right, not the least of those explanations being just how the hell the old man had found out where he lived. Were such records available to employees? Check that—to janitors? Sure, HR and the like had his address. But the custodial staff?

  Ryan had driven to the school on autopilot, his mind miles away. He saw the traffic signs and the oncoming cars, and yet he didn’t. What he did see upon arriving—how could he not?—was the school sign, huge and proudly displayed on the lawn adjacent to the main entrance. Although now, not so proud. It had been vandalized. What used to read “Pinewood Elementary” now read “Pinewood HElLementary,” a clever H and an extra L crudely painted in red ink.

  Ryan stopped his car smack in the road before the entrance, engine idling. He gaped at the sign. “You gotta be kidding me,” he said aloud, shook his head with a snort, and then continued into the lot.

  Photograph firmly in hand, Ryan was locking up his Corolla when he spotted another car pulling into the lot. He recognized the driver right away. The girl he had acted the fool in front of yesterday. His business with Karl this morning was top priority, but the memory of acting like an ass in front of a pretty blonde provoked his defenseless male ego, and he found that remedying such a situation became a priority as well.

  ***

  Rebecca pulled into the lot. Ryan appeared to be smiling genuinely her way. Her belly swirled faster. She noticed a large beige envelope in his right hand.

  She parked close but not next to him. She hoped she didn’t smell of smoke when she exited her car. Cursed herself for not thinking to pop a mint or chew a piece of gum. Wait—no gum. Gum was bad.

  “Hi,” she said. “Think we’ll be the only ones here again today?” Her delivery sounded fine in her own ears. Warm and friendly. No silly indifference this time.

  Ryan continued smiling. “I don’t know. You’d think there’d be more here when you consider that the majority of the staff is new.”

  “Good point. Maybe they all changed their minds about working here after all.”

  His smile dipped some, his eyes dropping for a moment. Almost as though her comment had bothered him. Come on, no way this time. If it had, then maybe the guy simply was weird. Thin-skinned to boot. Looks were nice, but confidence was king in Rebecca’s world.

  She felt better when his genuine smile returned and he said: “Speaking of which, I think I owe you an apology.”

  She played dumb. “Apology?”

  “I said I’d drop by your classroom yesterday for some spooky school gossip and I didn’t. Well, technically I suppose I did drop by, but I wasn’t exactly myself.”

  “You did seem a little bothered by something.” No point in playing dumb this time.

  Ryan nodded. “I was. Something very…odd happened to me yesterday in the teachers’ lounge. It spooked me.”

  “What happened?”

  “To be honest with you, I’m not really sure. I’m still trying to get my head around it.” He changed gears. “Did you notice the sign out front?”

  She hadn’t. “No, why?”

  “Someone painted an H and an L on it. It now reads Pinewood Hellementary. Clever, huh?”

  She knew she wouldn’t be able to see the sign from where she stood, but she turned and looked anyway. “Are you serious? Who did that?”

  “Who knows? I know when I left my interview last week, I had a lady give me grief about working here. It was probably just another local pissed off about the school being resurrected.”

  Resurrected. Odd choice of word.

  “What does your mom think about all this?” Ryan asked. “Not the sign, I mean—I doubt she knows about that already. I meant the backlash from the locals about the school.”

  Rebecca hesitated. She wanted to keep talking, but she didn’t want to involve her mother. Not with how upset she seemed about their discussion this morning.

  “She doesn’t really like to talk about it,” she replied. “I mean, she has, but usually she gets upset after.”

  “Understandable. Well, anyway, I apologize for my behavior yesterday. How about I come down to your classroom later and make amends by helping you with the least desirable task you’ve got ahead of you today? No psycho act this time.” He smiled.

  Rebecca smiled back, her belly now on the purée setting.

  “Promises, promises…” she said.

  “Scout’s honor.” Clearly never a Scout (Rebecca had been one in her youth), Ryan held up his left hand, thumb covering his pinky finger, three fingers together in a lefty take of the traditionally right-handed gesture.

  And this blunder was just fine with Rebecca. It allowed her to spot no ring on his finger. Her belly topped out at liquefy.

  19

  Ryan didn’t have any trouble locating Karl, mainly because Karl located him. Ryan had been in his room for no more than a minute when Karl popped his shiny bald head in. He was wearing the same faded green pants and the same faded green tee.

  “Morning, son. You’re here early.”

  Ryan did not return the pleasantries. He brandished the beige envelope containing the photo like it was damning evidence in a trial. “Explain this.”

  Karl took a step back, frowning at Ryan’s fervor. “What is it?”

  Ryan opened the envelope and pulled out the photo. He handed it to Karl. Karl took the photo, studied it, then shook his head.

  “Shame,” was all he said before handing it back to Ryan.

  “What is?”

  “Shame that those nice folks had to die.”

  “They all died?” Ryan asked.

  “No—just three.” He held out the photo. “These folks here.” His bony finger touched three teachers in the front row one at a time.

  And hadn’t Ryan suspected this? On some level that he struggled to comprehend, hadn’t Ryan known that Karl might confirm such an impossibility?

  “My God, Karl. Those three. Those were the three I saw yesterday in the teachers’ lounge. I’m sure of it.”

  Karl put a hand on Ryan’s shoulder. “Calm down, son.”

  Ryan shrugged the hand off. Disbelief (how? Just fucking how did he manage to see three dead teachers in the teachers’ lounge yesterday??? It was beyond insane) fueled his anger. “Why would you leave this for me?”

  “Me? I didn’t give you that photo, son. In fact, I was just about to ask you how you went about getting it yourself.”

  Ryan threw his head back and barked out a solitary laugh. “Oh, give me a fucking break, man. Who else would have left it? You were the only one I told about what happened yesterday.”

  Karl shrugged, strangely calm in the eye of Ryan’s storm. “I don’t know. Someone trying to help, I imagine.”

  “Help? Help with what?”

  “I told you there’s some diggin’ that needs doing around this school. Answers that need finding. Maybe this photo here is kinda like your map to get you started.”

  Ryan closed his eyes and shook his head. “You’re fucking with me. I can’t figure out why—or, more importantly, how—just yet, but you are. Just admit that you left the damn photo on my car. Admit you left it and I won’t be angry.”

  “Can’t do that, son; it wouldn’t be the truth. Think about it a minute: you never described the teachers you saw in that lounge—just two men and a woman. Hundreds of teachers have come and gone over the years. How on Earth would I know which ones you saw specifically? Which photo to give you?”

  Ryan opened his mouth to argue but had nothing. He closed it.

  “I will say this
,” Karl continued, “whoever did leave that photo, I don’t think they meant it as a threat.”

  “Really? Because I sure as hell feel threatened, for many reasons. Chief of them being that whoever left that photo for me knows where I live.”

  Karl handed the photo back to Ryan. “I didn’t leave it, son. You have my word.” “I don’t believe in ghosts, Karl—” He held up the photo. “I don’t believe ghosts

  left this for me.”

  “So then what did you see yesterday?”

  “I don’t know. But I do know that whatever the hell it was does not have the ability to drive to my fucking house and place an 8x10 envelope under my windshield wiper.”

  “You’re scared, son. And I don’t blame you. I told you this place can make some folks see things they normally wouldn’t see. Thing is, most folks don’t see it. Hell, most of the people that left Highland left because of the killings, the suicides, not because of things they seen. But you…you seen ’em. Or at least you’re starting to. And somebody—or something—knows that…maybe they’re trying to get your help.”

  Ryan closed his eyes and shook his head again.

  Karl went on. “I told you I was still here cuz I wanna see the evil bastard that’s living here—whatever the hell it is—die before I do. I meant that. Problem is, I seen what the bastard’s done, but I never seen the bastard himself. Maybe that’s what’s kept me safe so long. Maybe I just can’t see it. But my guess is that you can. And like I said, somebody here knows that. And while I can’t tell a grown man like you what to do with his life, I can say that if I could see? If I could see, I would certainly do something about it.”

  Ryan opened his eyes. The room swayed.

  “It was just the one time, Karl,” Ryan said. “I just saw it the one time.”

  “You’ll see more,” Karl said. “If you plan on staying here, I promise you; you’ll see more.”

  “I don’t want that responsibility.”

  “Too late. Looks like it wants you.”

  20

  First date. Ryan and Rebecca took their seats in a padded booth across from one another. They were in a local tavern no more than a few miles from the school. It was happy hour, and they were settling in for a well-deserved drink, Ryan unquestionably the more deserving of the two given recent events.

  Ryan had kept his conversations with Karl a secret from Rebecca as he was almost certain that if he shared their little chats, he’d wind up sitting alone. Emergency call from a friend or her mother perhaps. Sorry, got to go. Don’t call me; I’ll call you.

  Ryan had chatted with Karl again after that Tuesday morning when he’d confronted the old man with the photograph. Had, in fact, chatted quite a bit this week. A lot was more of the same, but some new nuggets were divulged. Karl gave the background of the three in the picture, and they were indeed the three who’d committed suicide in the building.

  Jane Ballentine, art teacher, was the woman. Mike Johnson, science teacher, was man number one. Man number two? None other than John Gray, gym teacher, the one who’d hanged himself from the basketball hoop in the gymnasium. The one he’d dreamt about. Sort of. After all, the gym teacher in his dream did not resemble the man in the photograph; Ryan had yet to confirm the former’s identity. But he’d still known who it was, hadn’t he? Even in the bizarre realm of his dream, he knew the man was John Gray.

  One particular nugget Karl divulged looked as though it was something the old man had regretted sharing not long after it was out. Apparently, all three suicide victims had claimed to see things in the school that others could not.

  Jane Ballentine, the art teacher, claimed to see wounded children roaming the halls, caked in blood, sobbing for help. Not long after, Jane Ballentine slashed both wrists, crawled into her classroom closet, and bled to death.

  Mike Johnson, the science teacher, claimed to see a woman veiled in black, cutting the throats of children in his classroom, as he stayed late one night to grade papers. Again, not long after, Mike Johnson leapt headfirst out of his second-story classroom window.

  John Gray had claimed a boy had approached him in the gym, asked John to follow him to the boiler room in the basement of the building. John did, but got no further. The boy had vanished, leaving John alone in that boiler room, questioning his sanity. John had told Karl and a few others about what had happened and then told them that he intended on going back to that boiler room the following night to do some digging.

  The next day John Gray was found hanging from the basketball hoop.

  Ryan’s question after Karl had relayed this, and he’d all but blurted it, was: What did John find in that boiler room? to which Karl regretfully had no answer. No one had the answer.

  As for the reason Karl looked as though he’d regretted telling Ryan about the three teachers claiming to have seen things before they took their own lives? Ryan had figured that out quickly, and with no satisfaction whatsoever. If all of these teachers had died for something they claimed to have seen, then why would Ryan be any different? Who was to say he wouldn’t be the next to go?

  “Can I have a glass of pinot?” Rebecca asked the waitress when she came to their booth for drink orders.

  The waitress smiled, nodded, then looked at Ryan. Again, given recent events, Ryan wanted a scotch. And a double at that. But on a first date? He’d held his tongue on Karl’s campfire tales. And so too did he think it wise to not give Rebecca another reason to get that emergency call from a friend or her mother. Double scotch? Guy clearly likes his booze. No thanks. Ryan opted for a light beer.

  “So, how’s your room coming along?” Rebecca asked.

  “All right, I guess. I was always terrible at that sort of thing. In school we had to design our own classroom on paper and explain why each little drawing went where, and how it benefited the learning experience of the kids, et cetera, et cetera. I think it was one of the few projects I got a B on.”

  “Oh, I remember doing something like that. Yeah, that wasn’t too fun.”

  “Did you like Penn State?” Ryan asked.

  “I loved it. I still miss it from time to time. How about you? You miss West Chester?”

  “Not really. I started back when I was twenty-seven, so my partying days were dwindling. Couple that with the fact that I was living at home with my mom the whole time…” He shrugged. “I guess you could say I actually went to college to learn.”

  Rebecca laughed. “How do you like living at home?”

  “The obvious pros and cons. My mom is a great lady, so it’s bearable. I think she likes it too. She likes the company now that my dad’s gone.”

  “Did he pass away?”

  “No—just divorce. Amicable too, if you can believe that. He’s a good guy. I still talk to him often. What about you? You like living at home?”

  “I don’t mind it. It helps financially, of course, but my dad died a while ago, and like you, I think my mom likes the company.”

  Ryan showed sympathy. “I’m sorry to hear that. How did he die?”

  “Massive stroke. I was in middle school.”

  Ryan winced. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “Must have been hard on you guys” felt like the thing to say.

  “It was. To be honest, I think my mom is still in denial about it, even after all these years. She doesn’t like to keep photos of him around or anything. Just his ashes in a big urn in her bedroom. I have a picture, though. Wanna see?”

  “Sure.”

  Rebecca went into her purse and pulled out her wallet. She showed Ryan a picture of a handsome man with dirty blond hair.

  “Good-looking guy,” Ryan said.

  “Yeah, he was great.”

  ***

  Their drinks arrived.

  “Cheers,” Ryan said, raising his beer bottle.

  Rebecca clinked her wine glass against the neck of his bottle. “Cheers.”

  They swigged healthily then sat silent for a moment.

  “Uh oh,” Rebecca said. “Is awkward silence
starting already?”

  “Oh shit. Favorite color? Favorite movie? Favorite food?”

  She laughed. “Blue, The ’Burbs, and pizza.”

  “Excellent answers. Love The ’Burbs.”

  “You?”

  “Jaws, steak, and I don’t really have a favorite color. Black, I guess.”

  “Love Jaws. Still have a problem going in the ocean. But I burn easy, so I use that excuse.”

  Ryan smiled. “Irish?”

  She shrugged. “I’m a mutt. But I definitely have Irish skin. What about you?”

  Now Ryan shrugged. “Mutt. I tan pretty well though.”

  “Jerk.”

  They shared a laugh and drank.

  “So what is your fifth-grade team like?” she asked. “You met all of them already, yeah?”

  Ryan nodded. “I like them. All girls, though. It would have been nice to have another guy.”

  Rebecca felt a twinge of jealousy in spite of herself. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll hate that.”

  Ryan smiled and took another swig from his beer. “It’s okay, I guess. I was just hoping for a male ally to do battle with the lovely ladies of the school such as yourself—” He tapped the top of her hand.

  Ah, flirting was officially served. She ate his offering greedily.

  “Poor Ryan,” she said with a coquettish smile.

  “Yeah, yeah. One girl on my team is pretty cool. Trish. Talks a million miles an hour, but is actually more amusing than annoying.”

  Another twinge of jealousy in spite of herself. She pried subtly. “Oh yeah? What’s she look like? I may have seen her.”

  “Tiny little thing. I’d say barely five feet. Round face with curly dark hair. Reminds me of one of those Cabbage Patch Dolls. You remember them?”

  Rebecca nodded and felt better. She could compete with a Cabbage Patch Doll.

  “What about the others on your team?” she asked.

  “They seem nice. Kind of kept to themselves. I guess I’ll get to know them better next week during orientation. Trish was the one I spoke to the most. She helped me with my room a lot.”