Home > Lying Season (Experiment in Terror #4)(31)

Lying Season (Experiment in Terror #4)(31)
Author: Karina Halle

“Right as rain,” I said, smiling as the fat, icy drops fell on to my raised cheeks. I drew my coat in close around me as Dex got out on his side and brought out only a wireless mic and a small camera. We’d go back to get the EVPs, infrared and the rest of our ghost-busting goodies if we needed them but we didn’t want to seem too pushy in front of Dr. Hasselback.

We walked together against the rain and wind to the heavy and strangely ornate doors at the front of the old building. Dex tried to open the beasts but after a few attempts, he discovered that it wasn’t that they were too heavy but that they were locked.

He glanced at his phone. “Huh. It’s only five.”

I craned my neck up to get a better look at the windows above but only got rain in my eyes. I wiped them and then tried the door as well. It was locked.

“I told you,” Dex said.

“Maybe they all like to go to bed early here,” I offered. “Didn’t you have a bedtime at your institute? Visiting hours? Curfew?”

I knew by the time I got to “visiting hours” I had gone too far, so I stepped away from the door and looked around again, avoiding Dex’s eyes.

“It’s early,” he said after a minute. He leaned forward and peered through the doors. There was a half-lit desk inside the lobby area with a placard that could have said “Administration” but I wasn’t sure. All I was sure of was that for five in the evening, the hospital looked dead empty. The short clip of a hallway that we could see was devoid of movement, except for those flickering lights, and all the doors were closed. I started to imagine all the horrors behind those plain doors, the psychotic blank faces and lost lives, but I stopped myself. I did not need to develop a fear of hospitals. I was sure that would come later.

I eyed the side of the entrance but there wasn’t even a buzzer or intercom to let people in. I tapped Dex on the shoulder. He looked at me, perplexed.

“You do have this doctor’s number right?” I asked. “Just phone him and be like, dude, what the f**k, we-”

The front doors suddenly rattled back and forth with deafening noise. I grabbed Dex’s arm in fright as my heart jumped around inside my chest. Were the doors moving by themselves or…

A small figure appeared in front of us, on the other side of the doors, as if she rose up from beneath the linoleum floor.

I screamed but reined it in quickly as I got a better look at the woman. At first I thought she was Mary, the ghost we encountered on D’Arcy Island. She was the same height, freakishly short, and had the same stupid glasses and mousy face. But this woman also had a pinched nose, a mass of wrinkles that only comes from being a cold-hearted spinster. Plus she was wearing a white nurse uniform and seemed to be from this century, albeit barely. She glared at us from the other side, turning her small weird head back and forth as if she were a horse that couldn’t look at you head on.

Satisfied, she unlocked the front door and casually pushed it open with all her might. Which was apparently a lot for this tiny, nasty-faced imp. Dex caught the door with his arm and I could tell he was straining to keep it open with the same amount of ease.

“You Mr. Foray and Miss Palomino?” she asked in a voice that had as much reverb as Katherine Hepburn. Her eyes were quick and spastic as they flew between our faces.

“That’s us,” Dex said. He smiled broadly, hoping to charm her, but I could tell from the tightness of his cheekbones that he was nervous and uncomfortable. Maybe he was reminded of Mary too.

She looked him up and down – finding his moody good looks ineffective – before saying, “You’re late!”

Then she turned on her white heel and strode down the hall. We were quickly ushered in through the giant doors and they sealed us in with a jarring slam.

We hurried after her, our shoes squeaking down the hall. She could move fast, whoever the hell she was.

“Sorry, we thought we had enough time to get here,” I called after her, watching her white form wiggle jerkily back and forth with each quick stride. “What’s your name, by the way?”

She raised her hand in the air as if to tell me to shut up.

“I’m Mrs. Roundtree,” she said without looking behind her.

Dex gave me a look that said, “Mrs? Someone’s married to her?” but thankfully he didn’t open his big mouth. We just kept squeaking and skidding after her until we were midway through the long half-lit, half-dark hallway. She had come to an abrupt stop and pointed at a plain door that read ‘Dr. Lewis Hasselback, Head Administrator.’

“He’s waiting for you,” she said. She had a funny way of keeping her lips as glued to her teeth as she talked.

And then she was gone, jerking down the hallway until her white uniform was just a blob against the shadowy corridor.

I took in a deep breath and raised my brows at Dex.

“Can’t charm them all,” he said with a disappointed downturn of his lips and raised his hand to knock on the door. Before he brought it down, it was flung open. A short, balding man with beady eyes and thick frames was looking up at us with an anxious look on his face. I thought that being face to face with a psychologist/psychiatrist/whatever would have brought back some unpleasant memories for both me and Dex. But Dr. Hasselback was so nervy and twitchy that he put me at ease for some reason. None of that calm, condescending demeanor that Dr. Freedman had back when I was a teenager. And judging from Dex’s nonplussed expression, he seemed to feel the same.

“Come in, come in,” the doctor said, opening the door wide and quickly gesturing with his arm while he poked his tiny, tanned head out into the hall and looked up and down it.

I walked close beside Dex and entered the room, a large office that was more messy than orderly. Two hard-backed chairs faced the big oak table, which was strewn with overflowing file folders and piled comically high with a stack of books that seemed to reach halfway to the ceiling. It was like he was playing Jenga with textbooks.

In the far corner of the room were a couch, an armchair and the weird, Disneyland-like set design of a shrink’s office, plus a few storage locker cabinets, which I knew housed some pills, and a sink.

As Dex and I were taking in the scene, the doctor shut the door gently and then scampered over to the desk and took a seat in his rolling chair. He barely looked at us and pointed at the chairs in a rough, careless manner. “Please sit down.”

   
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