Nightmare (7 page)

"Something else has been bothering me," she said softly, closing her book and leaning over a little closer than I liked, like a
fellow conspirator. "That day we first talked ... I got the feeling
you don't believe in orbs."

Orbs were a common phenomenon known throughout the
paranormal world. They often appeared as tiny white globs of
light that flew freely through a given space. The prevailing theory
about orbs was that they were disembodied souls trying to manifest themselves visually.

"True paranormal investigation isn't about what you believe,"
I told her. "It's about what you can prove. Evidence-pure, scientific, empirical evidence-is the holy grail. It's all about proving
that ghosts and the paranormal are real in ways that even the
most skeptical pundit can't argue with."

"But has that ever been done?"

"There's some very, very compelling evidence out there," I
replied. "Most of it collected by people like my parents. But the
world of the paranormal is never eager to reveal itself. My parents' TV show is popular partly because they don't accept everything they find as evidence of the paranormal. Whenever they
come across something odd, their first move is to find a normal
explanation for it. If they can't find one, if they can't prove that
it has a logical explanation, then it becomes a candidate for paranormal activity."

Jordin considered this. "But ... has real evidence ever been
collected? Has the paranormal ever been proven?"

I thought carefully, considering the best response to give.
"Any scientist will tell you there are infinite numbers of things in the universe that we cannot explain. And no one will argue that
proving what happens to us after we die is a question we still
can't answer. Whatever label you apply to it-the paranormal,
the afterlife, the unexplained-almost everyone agrees that things
exist that are outside of our ability to perceive. But defining it,
quantifying it, cataloging the exact scientific parameters of what
it is and where it is and how it functions ... no, we've never
achieved that."

Jordin looked thoughtful. "Then what makes your parents
think they ever will? Why keep searching for evidence that might
not ever be found?"

I shrugged. "Why do people keep looking for evidence of
Atlantis? Or UFOs? Or any other supposedly `crazy' thing that's
never been proven? No matter how many years pass without
definitive evidence, people just keep searching. Why do you think
that is?"

"I don't know."

"It's because no matter how many times these things are
shot down or explained away with logic, it's never a good enough
explanation."

Jordin was visibly having a hard time with this. "I don't know
what that means."

"We believe because we want to believe," I said. "We believe
so strongly that no one can change our minds."

She was frowning. "Are you saying the pursuit of the paranormal is illogical? Irrational?"

"I'm saying that in my experience, it's very human to want to
believe that there's more to us than this mortal life. And maybe
that desire is inside us for a reason. But don't take my word for it-you tell me. Why are you so eager to experience the paranormal
for yourself? What's your reason?"

Jordin was instantly uncomfortable, and closed her mouth
tight.

I smiled without humor, knowing my point was made. "Whatever your reason, no one ever stops searching ... because we
can't."

We headed in a rental car from the Louisville Airport to Highway 21 and eventually to an unassuming single-lane road that
took us past a small trailer park and a diminutive collection
of apartment buildings and then through a gated entrance. A
narrow road snaked back and forth through woods too dense
to see through.

One final curve to the left, almost a full U-turn, opened up
a full view ahead where the gigantic Waverly Hills Sanatorium
loomed like an immense monolith. The massive building, the
very ground we drove upon, felt dead.

"Ruh-roh, Raggy," said Jordin, her voice filled with awe
despite the silliness of her words.

I wanted to slap the spoiled, silly rich girl in the passenger
seat. But I settled for rolling my eyes and choosing not to acknowledge the painful Scooby Doo reference.

I turned my attention instead to what was in front of me.
The colossal main hospital building filled the entire windshield
as we drove closer, and its dilapidated brick walls, honeycombed
with endless rows of huge square holes where windows had once
been, were enough to give even the most hardened skeptic pause. It hadn't changed in the slightest since the last time I was here,
more than five years ago.

Waverly Hills Sanatorium was utterly frozen in time, and
the setting sun behind the trees off to the left only enhanced
the ancient, abandoned feel of the place. It was like staring at
a vintage postcard for a place no sane person would ever want
to visit.

I glanced at Jordin. She seemed smaller than before, as if
she'd physically shrunken. She seemed to sense my staring and
turned to look out her side window.

"What are those buildings over there?" she asked in a tiny
voice that was trying desperately hard to be nonchalant, and she
pointed into the distance beyond the big building.

"Urn, well," I had to collect my thoughts for a moment,
preoccupied as I was with the cloud this place cast over both
of us. "Waverly Hills was originally comprised of half a dozen
buildings or so. There were wards and dormitories for men,
women, children, and so on. Some of them still stand, but the
main hospital is the biggest by far. It's where we'll be spending
the night...."

My voice faded in reverence as I stared up at the immense
building. The sight of it affected me a lot more than I'd expected
it to.

It had been three years since I'd last gone on a paranormal
investigation, and I'd had no regrets about leaving that life
behind. By pursuing a career in law enforcement, I'd traded off
trying to prove the existence of the dead for trying to help the
living, and I was happy with the decision.

Yet I could feel the old tingle sizzling across my skin, the
anticipation building within me, as I gazed at this exceedingly haunted location. We were going to encounter ghosts this night.
I could feel it.

Because they were already watching us.

I could always sense it as soon as we walked through the
enormous, ancient double doors at the front entrance to Waverly
Hills Sanatorium. The place was just wrong.

The darkness was palpable now that the sun had gone down
fully, and the cold air was nearly suffocating in the enormous
old building. We were armed only with flashlights, sleeping bags,
and snacks for the night.

Hello again, I thought, my heart beating heavily. My eyes darted
through the dark, musty atmosphere, searching the crevices and
corners. Remember me?

I recognized the sensations this place caused from the times
I'd been there before, alongside my parents. My lungs seemed to
labor to draw breaths, like I was at a high altitude. Yet the cool air
wasn't light. It was much, much heavier than what I'd breathed
before we arrived.

The walls were coated in graffiti made up of words, names,
vulgar phrases, and drawings of skulls. Every surface was either
peeling, rusted, or rotten.

I looked atJordin, who had her hand to her chest. Her face was
slightly scrunched up as she absorbed the feelings that seemed
to permeate this place.

"This is..." She tried to express her feelings, but faltered. "I
just ... I don't.. ."

"Feel a weight against your chest?" I asked.

She let out a shallow, quavering breath, and nodded. Her eyes were wide and troubled as she whispered, "I feel so sad. It's
like there's ... misery here ... and grief."

I nodded carefully. It was difficult to understand and process,
but I didn't want her to miss it. It was too important.

"Most people who come here feel it," I said softly, my eyes
darting around the gloom. "So many people died here under
such painful conditions ... the grief and terror they must have
felt. I can't explain it, no one can, but it's like the building and
the grounds became soaked with those heavy emotions, sopping
them up like a sponge."

Jordin looked a little alarmed. We'd barely crossed the threshold into this place, and already we were experiencing things she
could never have anticipated. "How is that possible?" she said,
her voice louder than normal and echoing down the dark hall
that stretched out in front of us.

I shook my head, having no answers. "This is only the beginning. Do you feel the cold?"

She nodded. "I don't like this," she said, still clutching her
chest while looking at the air in front of her, trying to see if her
breath was visible. "I feel sick."

I cocked my head to one side. "This is what you came here
for. Congrats, girlfriend, you've just had your first paranormal
experience."

"It feels like I'm gonna have a vomiting experience."

"Come on," I said, taking tentative steps into the darkness. I
switched on my flashlight and aimed it down the long, black hallway, until its beam could no longer reach the building's depths.

I led the way as we descended into the night.

Ten minutes later, we wandered the halls as I tried to give
Jordin a bit of a tour so she could orient herself amid Waverly's
long walls and five floors. Jordin stopped in place and put one
hand on her opposite shoulder. She gasped aloud.

"What?" I whispered.

"It felt like someone tugged on my shirt!" She bunched up
the shoulder of her shirt to demonstrate what she'd felt. "Right
here!"

Her face was pale, and her eyes darted around in all
directions.

"Don't be alarmed," I said, trying to keep her calm. I wanted
her to get the full experience here, in the hopes that she might be
satisfied with this one trip, but if she gave in to panic, it could
end really badly. I gazed around the empty space surrounding
us. "They're just making their presence known. They're trying
to get your attention."

"They have it," she rasped, swallowing hard.

Okay, she's spooked. Back to business.

"So where would you like to start your investigation?" I
asked.

Jordin's jittery eyes were following her own flashlight's beam
into empty rooms on either side of us, up on the ceiling above
and down the hallway ahead. Every now and then she turned
quickly to glance behind.

"I want to do whatever you would do if you were investigating with your parents."

"Well, if they were here, right now I'd probably be helping
them set up stationary cameras and recording equipment all
over the building...

Jordin stopped walking. The traces of alarm that had outlined her face were gone, replaced by indignation. "You didn't say anything about needing to bring recording equipment. How was I
supposed to know to do that? I told you I want to do this exactly
the way real paranormal investigators do it!"