Ghosts of Rosewood Asylum (7 page)

“Ya’ know, an earl tea look.”

Zach had read about the colloquial language
of Australians, but he’d never met anyone who used the Cockney-like slang.

“Yes, an early look,” Zach said. “I, too,
wanted to get a lay of the land.”

Pierre appeared as confused as Zach felt.

“Right.
Lay of the land
,” Pierre
repeated. He chuckled and took a puff from his pipe. Not
Sailor Black
but a similar aroma.

“Did you, Angel and Matthew get things
squared away for tomorrow?”

The more Zach had considered their task, the
more he understood that it was a technical nightmare—it was going to take a lot
of generators to power their cameras and lights. Moreover, the cameras and
video equipment would require substantial effort to properly situate and set
up.

“
Squared away
,” Pierre repeated. “I’d
say we’re squared, mate.” He appeared pensive.  “Did things go well wif
you yanks at lunch?”

“Sure, it was all shits and giggles.”

“
Shits and giggles
, eh?” He peered at
Zach and then took a purposeful suck on his pipe. “Well, nice chattin’ with ya,
but I think I might find me a ribbidy dub. I could really do with a kitchen
sink.”

That one had Zach puzzled. It was becoming
quite clear why the
Demon Hunters
, or perhaps the network, had prevented
Pierre from speaking on camera. The wrong phrase uttered at the wrong time
could ignite World War III.

“You want to get a cup of coffee?” Zach
asked, pointing towards
Muses
.

“No coffee for me, mate, but a Germain Greer
will really hit the spot.”

 “A beer?” Zach was starting to get the
hang of it. “Not for me. I gotta wake up early.”

“A’course, but I can’t sleep without my
beer.” Pierre winked. “Don’t worry, I’ll slosh back a kitchen sink or two for
you. G’nite, mate!”

Zach watched him mosey up the street, but
couldn’t let the Australian have the last word. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Keep
your
eyes peeled
for me.”

Pierre looked back and nodded.

Out of nowhere, Zach’s internal voice spoke.

One may smile and smile and be a villain.

Charming as Pierre was, Zach didn’t trust
any of the Demon Hunters and found it a bit suspicious that he’d run into him
at Rosewood. Then again, maybe Pierre was thinking the same thing about him.

Situated at the east end of the strip mall,
Muses
Coffee House
, especially its outdoor patio, offered a good view of
Rosewood’s back wall. At least fifty yards from the road, the building was
beyond the reach of streetlights. As twilight turned to night, the asylum
became harder and harder to see. It slowly slipped into brooding darkness. As
he sipped a Decaf, Zach wondered if this nightly disappearing act helped
account for Rosewood’s haunted reputation. He spent a couple hours jotting down
notes, impressions and reminders–notably about the houses across the street
from Rosewood’s grounds.

Beyond an alleyway behind the strip mall
were six bungalows. Both corner lots on either side of the cul-de-sac that
connected to Lincoln Avenue were vacant. At one time, all the houses, lots and
even the entire strip mall had been the property of Rosewood Psychiatric.

Zach looked at his watch, sipped the last of
his drink and stood up to leave. From behind him, came a timid voice.

 “Mr. Kalusky, is that you?”

“‘Mister Kalusky’ is my dad,” Zach said,
turning around.

The voice belonged to a woman much older
than he had expected. She wore a simple, off-white dress with a white shawl.
She stood there smiling. He guessed her to be almost eighty-years old. Her
wrinkled face gave away her age, but there was also a youthful glow, a vibrant
aura that exuded from her.

“Oh, hello ma’am. I’m Zach.”

“My mother is ‘ma’am,’ she said. “I’m
Evelyn.”

“Nice to meet you, Evelyn.” Well trained in
manners, Zach knew not to extend his hand to a woman, especially an older
woman, unless and until she did so first. She did not. “What can I do for you?”

“Perhaps, it’s what I can do for you. You
are to investigate Rosewood, are you not?”

Her question seemed more a statement of
fact. One that took Zach by surprise. “How do you know that?”

She smiled. It was both bashful and knowing.
“Well, you are here across the street from Chicago’s most infamous place, so I
assumed. More importantly however, I have some information for you regarding
Rosewood.”

“Really? How?”

Her mouth twitched, a sudden and quick
nervous tic. “My mother worked there as a nurse. I know things.”

“Okay. What can you tell me?”

“Well, Mister Ka—”

“Zach,” he reminded her, gently.

“Well, it is a rather sensitive subject,”
she said, softly. “My mother told me things. She spoke of events that happened
there many years ago.”

“Painful things?”

It appeared at first as though she didn’t
know how to respond. “Secret things,” she said. “Happenings that, under normal
circumstances, should not be brought into the light of day.”

“Can I buy you a cup of coffee,” Zach asked,
glancing inside. When she hesitated, he added, “Or perhaps tea?”

She smiled wistfully as though considering.
“No. No thank you. I don’t drink coffee or tea anymore.”

Zach grinned and shoved his hands into his
pockets. “Well then. Tell me what you know about Rosewood. Please.”

“Before I begin, I need you to promise that
you’ll keep what I say in the utmost of confidence. For reasons which will
become obvious, you must not disclose where you learned what I am about to
reveal.”

Zach chuckled. “Okay, you’ll be my ‘Mark
Felt.’”

Her expression remained blank.

“My ‘Deep Throat’—like in Watergate.”

“Oh yes. Of course.”

If Zach didn’t know better, he’d have
wondered if she’d ever even heard the terms. The old lady might just be
nervous. Or have Alzheimer’s.

Zach raised his right hand the way he had
when he was in Boy Scouts. “Whatever you tell me, I give you my word that I’ll
not disclose your identity to anyone.”

She beamed.

“Then first, you must be very careful. There
are forces here the likes of which you may never have before encountered.”

“Like?”

She scowled as though tasting something awful.
“As in demonic forces.”

“How do you know?”

Her mouth twitched as it had before. “My
mother told me.”

“Okay,” Zach said. “How about if you start
from the beginning?”

“We don’t have time for that now. I need to
go, but I will tell you more after you verify what I’m about to tell you is
true. Otherwise, it may be too overwhelming. You might think I’m crazy.”

“I’d never think you’re cr—”

“Listen,” she said. “You’ll have to
investigate all the fires. With only a cursory look, you’ll not see it, but
they’re all connected.”

“The fires across the street?” Zach nodded
toward Rosewood.

“No. Well, yes and no. The fires there. And
the fires over there.” She pointed at the dual empty lots near the bungalows.
“They’re all related to fire here long ago and the fire that destroyed the
Pullman Market Hall. Connected even to the fire that burned down the White
City.”

Zach didn’t know what to make of it. “The
White City?”

“Yes. They were all started by one man.” Her
face darkened. “I’ve told you enough for now. Once you have verified what I’ve
told you is true, we can speak again.”

“How will I contact you?”

“We can meet here again. Shall we say
tomorrow night?”

“Sure. What time?”

“About this same time,” she said, already
inching away. “After eleven.”

“Wait. Can I walk you to your car? I want to
make sure you get home safely, Evelyn.” He not only wanted to ensure her safety
but to prolong their conversation a few more minutes.

“Oh no,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “I’m
not going home just yet.”

She turned and made her way toward the
GrocersMart
adjacent to the coffee house. Zach looked at his watch again. No wonder that
she’d been in a hurry. The store’s closing hour was quickly approaching.
Apparently the secretive old girl kept some late hours.

Chapter Seven

“Okay,” Sara said to him looking no more
frazzled than she typically did the first day of shooting. “Are we ready?”

Zach nodded and waited for Sara to get her
cameras rolling. There were two HD camera operators and a few members of the
production crew holding boom microphones. After a season on the air, Zach
thought it funny how easy it was to ignore them swarming around.

When he sensed everyone was situated, he
strode to the gates and held his hands out to his sides. “
Xavier Paranormal
Investigators
and
Demon Hunters
, welcome to Rosewood Psychiatric
Hospital!”

“Woot! Woot! Woot!” The Demon Hunters
startled him with the signature cheer normally reserved for Bryce. They thunked
their fists together in rapid succession while they barked. Zach’s fellow
XPI
members clapped a bit less enthusiastically at first but quickly picked up
steam to match their rivals’ intensity.

“In just a little while, Rosewood’s
custodian will be here to open these gates and give us a full guided tour of
the grounds. But first, to kick things off today, we’re going to have a
briefing about the property presented by our phenomenal Historical Researcher,
Wendy.”

As much as Wendy’s selfish dating behavior
had been criticized, no one questioned her on-camera awareness and presence.
She flashed her photogenic smile, cozied up to Zach and made a point to brush
her hand on his forearm as she began speaking.

“Aw. Thanks, Zach.” Her tone was seductive.
“Our story begins in 1879, just fourteen years after the conclusion of the
Civil War and just seven years after the Great Chicago Fire. Industrialist
George M. Pullman purchased 4,000 acres of land in this area, and the first
American model industrial town was born. In 1889, Hyde Park Township, which
included Pullman, was annexed into the City of Chicago through popular
election. Now, the majority of
Pullman
residents voted against
annexation. One of the major issues of the time was the City’s desire to build
an asylum here. Chicago wanted to have a place far enough away from Downtown to
send ‘undesirables’ before the upcoming World’s Fair Columbian Exposition.”

“Move it along, Wendy,” Sara called out.

As sensitive as Wendy often was in real
life, on-camera, she was unflappable. Over the course of the first season, Sara
had worked with her to eliminate reading, in favor of an extemporaneous speech
which could be later edited. Wendy responded by quickly learning to spit out
historical facts in sound byte fashion.

“Rosewood Psychiatric opened in 1892.”

“Good!” Sara said.

“In 1893, the World's Fair, nicknamed ‘The
White City,’ took place. There was a nationwide depression. Blah, Blah Blah. In
1894, during the Pullman Strike, the White City burns—”

“Wendy!” Sara’s tone had taken on the sting
of a jockey’s whip on a racehorse’s backside.

“Sorry. That info was for Zach. Okay…” Wendy
smiled for the cameras as if she’d just been awarded an Emmy. She held up a
sepia-toned photograph of a two-story building. “In 1898, Rosewood’s female
quarters burned to the ground. More than a dozen women were incinerated in the
fire, and patients first began to report seeing a ghastly female spirit.”

Wendy held up a badly faded, black and white
photograph of a homely looking woman and a cute little girl. “It wasn’t until
1900 that people began lending credence to the ghost stories. A widow, Abigail
Lovecroft, who was working as a nurse at Rosewood, and her daughter, Amelia,
reported a paranormal event. The daughter witnessed a boy consumed by a
powerful female ghost who then threatened her. There was no little boy known to
be on the premises that day, so it was assumed he was a ghost as well.”

“Good. Keep it moving,” Sara shouted.

Wendy took a deep breath. “Abigail Lovecroft
was the first Rosewood employee to resign her post because of the haunting, but
she certainly would not be the last.”

Sara flashed Wendy two thumbs up.

“In fact, by 1902, there had been so many
complaints that people began attempting to block relatives from being sent to
Rosewood. More patients were committing suicide than were being discharged!
Additionally, it became increasingly difficult and eventually impossible to
staff the hospital. Like Abigail Lovecroft, nurses often quit abruptly never to
return. In 1903, months after the mysterious death of the hospital’s
administrator, Dr. Louis Johansson, and just eleven years after opening, the
hospital shut its doors. Despite several attempts over the last century to open
it as a boarding school, hospital or museum, Rosewood has remained closed to
the public to this day.” She exhaled deeply.