Nightmare (33 page)

We wandered for hours through the terrible, fascinating old
building, winding up in the primary corridor between Cell Blocks
B and C. Anyone who's seen photos ofAlcatraz is probably familiar with this famous hallway. The men who were imprisoned here
nicknamed it Broadway.

Four hours passed without anything happening at all. At
some point in that time, we grew tired of walking and decided to camp out in the center of the Broadway corridor. No matter
how many times I came here, I was always impressed with the
creepy feeling it imparted so easily on all who visited, and I could
tell Jordin was feeling it, too.

The oppressive atmosphere of Alcatraz saturates the air like
a toxin. The rusted, eroding interiors are especially eerie at night,
when the island's decades of history seem to come alive in the
mind's eye. It was always easy for me to imagine the likes of Al
Capone or George Kelly-both of whom had made a laughingstock of other prisons by paying off guards and continuing their
illegal businesses from behind bars-languishing in a place with
such extreme security as this. Its accommodations could only be
described as barbaric, and they were made worse by the knowledge
that no escape from this place was humanly possible.

At precisely 1:17 a.m., the silence was broken by the loud echo
of a cell door sliding open somewhere in the building.

We were both on our feet at once, and I had to remind my
heart to slow down. This would mark the true start of our investigation, and we had several more hours to endure. I'd never
make it through the night without a heart attack if I couldn't
keep this under control.

Jordin's flashlight and video recorder were in hand as she
silently swept the cell block, searching for the door that had
shut. But my eyes fell to my backpack on the ground and the
Valium inside that could give my heart a chemically induced
calm, if needed.

No. I wouldn't use it unless I was in much worse shape than
this-like, only if an actual heart attack were imminent. I was
young and strong, with big plans for my life, and I was not about
to become a junkie.

We quickly realized that the sound was too far away to have
been in this corridor, and Jordin seemed to have a hunch about
where the echo might have emerged from. She motioned for
me to follow and walked deeper into the facility, away from the
main entrance.

Her flashlight bobbed back and forth as she scurried through
the dark hallways, and she turned left at the end of the hall. I
had a suspicion about where she was going, and it was quickly
proven right. Two corridors down was D Block, site of the most
extreme and intense punishments.

It was a segregation ward, where the most unruly of prisoners were sent for "treatment." Forty-two miniature cells spread
out over two floors, thirty-six of which were made to hold just a
single prisoner. The remaining six were even worse.

Five of these were collectively known as the Hole, and being
sent there meant solitary confinement in what amounted to little
more than a hole in the ground, with dual containment doors,
and a sink and toilet. The sixth cell was a steel-encased room called
the Strip Cell, and it was the worst punishment Alcatraz had to
offer. Prisoners sent here were stripped naked and left inside for
days in pitch-darkness. Conditions were cold, sleep was all but
impossible, and the prisoner's diet was heavily restricted.

I followed Jordin at a fast trot, which was as quick a movement as I dared. Rounding the final corner to enter D Block, we
soon came to a stop facing Cell 14D, one of the five "Hole" cells.
14D was infamous among paranormal investigators, but it wasn't
the only cell here with an open door-some had been left open,
others shut, by the park rangers before they left the island.

"Why this one?" I whispered, fishing out my own flashlight
and peering inside the dank little room.

"It was closed before," she whispered back, her features set
and grim.

I did a quick back-and-forth down the block, unable to determine how she could know that. We'd marched through here twice
earlier in the night, but all of the cells looked largely the same
to me, though the cells in the Hole had much narrower doors.
Maybe that was why it stood out in her mind.

Or maybe...

Someone did her homework.

"What do you know about this cell?" I asked. "14D?"

"I know it's famous for high levels of paranormal activity,"
she replied.

"And you're sure this very famous landmark just happens to
be the cell door we heard?"

"You may have been sleepwalking while we toured the build-
ing,"Jordin pointed out, with just a hint of condescension, "but
I memorized every detail of this place as we walked through. And
yes, the fact that 14D is famous made me pay closer attention to
it when we passed by. I'm positive it was shut."

It was good that she'd noticed, no doubt. But it also pointed
to her growing obsession. Looked like I wasn't the only one in
danger of becoming a junkie, only Jordin's drug wasn't one you
swallow. A part of me wondered if she'd made up her mind that
she was going to become good enough at this that she wouldn't
need me anymore.

Whatever, then. I was ready to be done with this stuff anyway.
Jordin was a big girl, and if she wanted the baton, I would pass
it on with no regrets.

"Ow! "Jordin yelped, not bothering to whisper. Her cry echoed around the building just like the clanging door had. She put a
hand up behind her back, flinching as she did.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"My back!" she cried, turning in place in futility. "It's on
fire!"

"Let me see."

I reached down and pulled up the bottom of her sweater,
and I almost gasped but I caught myself. A large round patch of
skin across her lower back was inflamed in a bright scarlet red,
like a carpet burn or a welt. And that wasn't all.

"Something scratched you," I explained, leaning in with my
flashlight to examine it up close. There were four marks, arranged
in a parallel pattern as if a person had dug into her flesh with
their fingernails and dragged them all the way down her back.

"It stings!" she howled.

"The entire area is enflamed," I explained slowly, trying to
remain as calm as possible, for both our sakes. "I think we may
want to consider leaving now."

"Why? What is this?" she said. "What's happening?"

I debated not telling her, because I had a feeling that the
truth, which would terrify a normal person, might only spur on
her obsession further. But her life was in danger, and she needed
to know.

"In most cases where something makes direct physical contact this way," I said, "the person bearing the injury usually winds
up with an attachment."

Jordin pulled her sweater down and turned to look at me.
"What's an attachment?"

I tried to remain as even-keeled as possible as I replied, "It
means some-thing has taken a special interest in you. It's attached itself to you, and will remain fixated on you until you leave, and
possibly beyond, if the bond between you is allowed to strengthen.
In a best-case scenario, it would be one of Alcatraz's less-thancharming former prisoners. Worst case? Something similar to
the church."

Jordin turned away, her wide eyes examining the area around
us, as if she was trying to find the spirit that had suddenly grown
interested in her. "I can't decide if that's awesome or if I need
to pee."

I rolled my eyes, furious now. "It is not awesome! Attachment
cases can end in outright possession if they're demonic, and this
one's already shown an intent to hurt you! We have to get you
out of here before something worse happens!"

Jordin was about to reply when we heard a very faint sound.
Some kind of tapping noise, and it was close.

She spun and shined her light into the open Cell 14D. Though
I tried to stop her, she brazenly walked in and searched for the
source of the sound. It took her only a moment to determine
that it was coming from the left wall, or rather, whatever was
on the other side of it.

The cell next door was open, as well, and she walked around
into it, approaching the same wall from the other side. There was
nothing in the cell that I could see that the sound could have
been coming from.

"It still sounds like it's coming from the other side of the
wall," she whispered. "Go in there and see if you still hear it."

I didn't want to go in there and see if I could hear it. I wanted
to stop her from getting herself killed. But my feet marched
beneath me nonetheless, and soon I was leaning with my ear up
against the cement wall.

"Yeah, I hear it," I said.

"That's so weird!" she shouted, suddenly enthused. "What
if it's a spirit inside the wall?"

"If it's inside the wall, it's probably just a rat," I pointed
out.

Jordin was unfazed by my logic. "But what if it's not?"

My jaw clenched and so did my fists as I pushed away from
the wall. "All right, enough. If you're going to call every stupid
little thing that happens `paranormal,' you're just thrill-seeking
and making a mockery of this entire field of study."

"Oh, come off it, Maia!" she shouted through the wall. "Listen
to that sound! That doesn't sound anything like a rat to me!"

I didn't listen to it. Instead I left the cell and swerved around
to the one she was in. "We have a rational, nonparanormal explanation for the sound, so questioning what's rational can only
mean you've lost your objectivity. There are paranormal things
happening in this place, but that sound isn't one of them. The
potentially life-threatening thing that happened to your back,
however, is. Get your things. We're leaving. Now."

Jordin's face had drawn tighter and angrier with each word
I'd spoken, and now she looked ready to crack. "And where are
we going to go? We're alone on this island, and no one's coming
back to get us until dawn."

"Then we'll camp out under the stars," I said. "It's too dangerous in this place; it would be better to be out in the open."

I was already marching out of the cell when she grabbed me
by the shoulder and spun me around. I was preparing to rip her
hand off me if she didn't let go, but when I faced her, she had an
index finger to her lips.

It was only a second before I heard it, too. The sound we'd been hearing, which had sounded so much like a tiny scratching
from inside the wall, had morphed into something else while we
were arguing. The scratches were gone, replaced by the sniffling
and muted sobs of a woman.

I was forced to swallow my pride-which did not go down
smoothly-and admit for the moment that Jordin had been right.
Together we slowly approached the wall and put our ears up to
it. The crying sound was coming from inside it, all right.

We left the cell in silence and walked back around to enter
14D, where the sound was even louder. It still came from inside
the same wall, but it resonated much stronger in here. Jordin
shivered and rubbed her arms, and I noticed that it had become
cold enough that I could almost see my breath.

"Did Alcatraz have any women prisoners?" she whispered as
we continued to listen.

I shook my head. "This place wasn't always a federal prison.
It was considered haunted long before Al Capone and his ilk
were here. And entire families lived on the island when it was a
penitentiary-the families of the prison guards."

The crying went on for more than ten minutes, and Jordin
recorded every second of it on the shiny new digital recorder in
her hand.

Despite my better judgment, the encounter with the crying
woman in the walls of D Block had gotten my old juices flowing,
and I let Jordin talk me into going down into the Dungeons to
explore. But I made her promise we would only stay for a few
minutes.

"The Dungeons" was an unofficial term for the catacombs beneath the main cell block. They were leftovers from the island's
storied history before it became a prison.

I almost immediately regretted allowing this little detour,
because Jordin's unfriendly attachment shoved her down the
stairs as we descended. I was up front, so she was pushed into my
back and we both tumbled down to the dusty rock floor.

I tried to jump up quickly to cover my suddenly hammering
heart, but lost my balance and went back down.

"You okay?" she asked, eying me suspiciously.

"Fine," I lied, trying to face away from her as I struggled to
steady myself, slow my heart, and catch my breath.

We had no further incidents down in the Dungeons, but it
wouldn't have mattered if we had, because Jordin was no longer
paying attention. I caught her watching me sideways again and
again as we walked on.