The Ghost of Graylock Page 2

  Neil looked back across the street, trying to find someone who might fit the description of “Green Man.” But there were only trees, hills, sky, clouds.

  “Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of a Green Man,” said the boy, waving for Neil to come up the stairs. “You can probably see him better from here.” Neil followed, sitting next to the boy on the top step. “Green Men are from Irish folklore. They’re a kind of forest spirit.”

  “Forest spirit?” Neil asked. “Is that like a ghost?”

  “Not really,” said the boy. “More like … an entity.”

  An entity? Neil found himself amused and disturbed at the same time. The boy sounded a little crazy.

  “Want me to teach you to see him?”

  “Okay,” Neil said, remembering Alexi and Mark, trying to stay open-minded.

  “It’s mostly a mental thing,” said the boy. “First, you’ve got to relax. Look off at the hillside. Let your vision go fuzzy.” Across the small valley was a blur of green. Trees, trees. More trees. “Now,” the boy continued, “let the lights and the darks of the leaves leap out.”

  “Leap out?”

  “Just try.”

  A few seconds later, something strange occurred. Neil didn’t know how it happened, but just the act of staring — concentrating — put him in a different kind of place. He could feel the cold stone steps beneath him, the breeze tickling his face, but he felt … elsewhere.

  “The shadow and light will blur. Look closer. Fall into it. He’s right there. In the blur. Look. A face.”

  The boy was right. Where the shadows retreated into the mass of leaves on the hill, suddenly Neil noticed a pair of eyes blinking, a mouth opening and closing, as if reciting some silent song as the wind blew through the trees.

  Neil gasped and then the face was gone. He turned to the boy. “Was that thing real? The Green Man?”

  The boy laughed. “You saw him, didn’t you?” He quieted, and then peered off into the distance again. “You’d be surprised how easily you can find them. Sit and stare at anything for awhile … it will eventually stare back.”

  Neil chuckled, pleased to meet someone who might be as weird as himself. He’d definitely seen the face in the trees. If this boy saw it too, then they were in it together. And neither of them were nuts.

  The boy smiled to himself, as if the Green Man across the way had suddenly winked at him. “I’m Wesley, by the way.”

  Neil knew right then that they’d be friends.

  By the time Neil had made it back to the pie shop, he found himself looking around at pieces of the town — sidewalk stains, patterns in brickwork, shadows falling across concrete — trying to find hidden life inside all of it. He couldn’t help but also think of his parents — how a useful skill such as Wesley’s might have given him a clue to the secrets they had kept for so long, secrets to which he still had no satisfying answer.

  “Here we are,” said Eric, pausing near a gravel road that led into a dense growth of pine. Next to the inconspicuous intersection, hidden by tall weeds and low-hanging branches, a small wooden sign stood atop a thick post: GRAYLOCK HALL — STATE HOSPITAL.

  “Notice how it says nothing about crazy people,” said Eric, with a smirk. “Totally bland.”

  “What would you like it to say?” Wesley asked. “‘Welcome to the Loony Bin’?”

  “Where is it?” Neil asked.

  “Way back through the trees,” said Eric. “You have to cross a bridge at the end of the long driveway. The main building is on a small island in Graylock Lake. The woods are state property. There’s not much else out here.” As the group stood at the edge of the path, a gust of wind released needles from high pine boughs swaying over their heads. The needles scattered at their feet. The dark scent of sticky sap hung in the air. “You sure you want to do this?”

  “Is it dangerous?” Bree asked.

  “Probably,” Eric answered with a slight shrug.

  Bree sighed and hugged her ribs, as if protecting herself from a chill that didn’t exist, but eventually she took the first step onto the gravel road. They all walked in silence for awhile. A couple driveways turned off the thin stretch. Through the dense trees, Neil could see buildings in the distance. Old houses. He wondered if anyone still lived in them.

  “You don’t really believe the hospital has ghosts in it,” Bree said eventually. “Do you?” She spoke directly to Eric; it was obvious to her how Neil and Wesley felt.

  “It’s hard not to believe it when so many people claim to have seen her,” said Eric.

  “Seen who?” Bree whispered.

  “The nurse.”

  Neil would have laughed if Wesley hadn’t already given him the rundown the day before. Now he listened as Eric recounted it for his sister. Though hearing it for a second time, the story again gave him chills.

  “And we’re going here … why?” said Bree, stopping in the middle of the gravel path as Eric finished the tale.

  “There’s so much to see,” said Eric. “After Graylock was closed fifteen years ago, the patients were either moved to other institutions or released. It happened in a hurry. They even left behind charts, specimens … medical records!”

  Wesley skipped forward. “Tell them about the padded cells with gouge marks in the walls. Or the bloodstains streaking the hallway floors. Or the crayon graffiti drawings that decorate the spiral stairwells.”

  Neil could tell that Bree was truly frightened — she’d locked her knees and shoved her hands deep into her pockets. If they weren’t careful, she might take off in the opposite direction. That would be a disaster — especially if she had the aunts drive out here to pick him up. “He’s kidding,” said Neil, rolling his eyes.

  “Come on,” said Eric. He reached out and took her hand. “I might get scared without you.” Bree’s knees loosened, something sparked in her eyes, and Neil knew they were in the clear. They walked ahead.

  Seconds later, Wesley whispered into Neil’s ear. “But I wasn’t kidding.”

  AS THE GROUP APPROACHED THE SMALL BRIDGE, they came to an old metal fence that leaned forward, sagging and rusted. Neil noticed a small space at the bottom. Eric grabbed the chain link and pulled up. The gap opened wider. One by one, Bree, Wesley, and Neil crawled through. Eric followed carefully, pressing himself into the dirty ground so the twists of metal wouldn’t scratch.

  The path continued across the small concrete bridge, over the algae-coated water where tall reeds wavered, and onto the long, narrow island. Neil marveled at the sight of the hospital grounds. Pine trees lined the road, providing the ever-present shade that Neil somehow had expected to find here. Ahead, visible between the tree trunks, stood a mass of gray stone. A gate. A wall. Neil couldn’t tell exactly what he was looking at. Whatever it was, it was covered with a moss so green it appeared poisonous.

  “There she is,” said Eric. “Graylock Hall.”

  They walked in silence. The road led to a circular turnaround in front of the building. On the other side of the circle was the hospital’s main entrance — a wide stone staircase that rose toward a recessed entry. Within the shadows of the portal, impenetrable black iron doors were chained shut.

  The building was not wide, but each of its three stories seemed to rise taller than the last, so that the place loomed as if it were actually leaning toward them, trying to hypnotize them forward.

  A small walking path circumnavigated the hospital. Opposite this trail, the land sloped quickly toward the water. It wasn’t difficult for Neil to imagine a patient wandering out into the night and tumbling into the lake. Farther from shore, unimpeded by the shade of the pines, lily pads floated in the sunlight. For a patient who couldn’t swim, who was confused or frightened in the first place, Neil imagined that it would have been difficult to escape the tangle of plant stalks and weeds out there.

  Taking in the vista, Neil was overwhelmed with a sudden sadness. People had died here. And for the people who had lived, life certainly hadn’t been easy — neithe
r inside nor outside of these walls. He had come here hoping to escape from his tangled thoughts, but found himself twisted in new ones.

  Neil blinked and pulled out the digital camera, fitting its strap snugly around his wrist. He remembered how Alexi and Mark worked. They always managed to keep a critical perspective and maintain an emotional distance. They never jumped to conclusions. Neil took several pictures to make himself feel better. This was his very own ghostly investigation — a wonderful distraction.

  “I think there’s a window around the side that we can crawl through,” said Eric. “That’s what my friend Jamie told me this morning anyway. He’s been here before, but I couldn’t convince him to come again. Go figure.”

  “Is Jamie in your band?” Bree asked, following Eric to the left of the hospital’s main entrance.

  “Nah. I’m not really talking to those guys at the moment.” The two walked on. Neil and Wesley hung back.

  “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Wesley asked. “Some people think Nurse Janet is totally real.”

  “Yeah, but ghosts can’t hurt you,” said Neil.

  “Where’d you get that idea?”

  Neil thought for a few seconds. Had Alexi or Mark ever actually said that? “I’m not sure. Makes sense though. Ghosts don’t have bodies. So how would they be able to touch you?” Wesley said nothing. Neil worried Wesley didn’t believe him. “The Nurse Janet story is creepy, but I doubt her ghost would really be able to drag anyone down to the lake. Even if she was totally psycho.”

  “There are other ways to hurt people.”

  “Like how?”

  Wesley pointed to his temple, right next to his small brown ear. “What if they can get in here somehow?”

  “In your head?” asked Neil. He thought of his mother, of her crying fits, of her silences, her unrecognizing face. He ruminated upon that shadow person he imagined lurking inside himself, and his stomach clenched. Maybe it had been a mistake to come here.

  A voice called out from around the stone wall. “Are you guys coming or what?” It was Eric.

  “Yes!” Neil answered. Moving forward would keep the memory of his parents in the back of his mind, instead of front and center.

  Neil and Wesley found Bree helping Eric into what looked like a tall basement window that met a slight depression in the ground. The glass had been smashed in. The grass at the base of the wall came up to Bree’s knees. She held Eric’s hands as he lowered himself inside. When Bree realized that the two boys were standing behind her, she blushed, looking like an accomplice to a crime. And it is a crime, thought Neil, isn’t it?

  “There’s a table down here!” Eric called from the darkness beyond the window. “Looks pretty sturdy.” The sound of wooden legs scraping against a gritty floor echoed out of the building. Then Eric’s face appeared inside, at the bottom of the frame. “Here.” He waved. “You can just climb on in now. The drop isn’t far.”

  Bree breathed deeply, then sat down and scooted herself forward. From inside, Eric reached out and helped her. Wesley followed. Neil glanced around, making sure no one was watching them before he too crouched in the tall grass. He sat on the ledge of the window, and for the first time, he caught a glimpse of the hospital’s inside.

  Dusty light revealed a wide wooden floor, a tall ceiling. Bolted high on opposite walls … were those basketball hoops? Had they found a gymnasium? Weird. And kind of cool.

  Neil lowered his bag inside. Below, his sister held it for him. Then he dropped to the table. The safety of the sunlight remained outside. Inside, the world had turned to shadows and dust.

  A THICK LAYER OF DIRT CAKED THE FLOOR. Shards of glass glimmered in the dim light at the group’s feet. A slimy green stripe of mildew and moss clung to the wall, dripping down from the makeshift entry. A shadowy horizontal line, about five feet high, stretched around the room, reminding Neil of a grimy bathtub ring.

  Nature was slowly reclaiming the building. The once-glossy flooring was warped from water damage. Rain had repeatedly flooded the room during years of neglect. Paint peeled from the ceiling, bubbled and hanging in long strips like streamers at a party. Great chunks of plaster had fallen indiscriminately around the room, littering the court with even more debris. Playing a ball game here today would involve a strange obstacle course, Neil thought. What penalties would you acquire for tripping over a raised board?

  Bree tapped Neil’s shoulder and held out his bag. She stared at him silently.

  “You okay?” he asked her, reaching inside the satchel and removing his camera again. He realized that he actually appreciated that she’d come along … even if it was simply because Eric — a cute boy! — had shown up.

  “Where to?” she asked, glancing around the ruined room.

  “Neil wants his evidence,” said Wesley. “If Nurse Janet haunts the youth ward, we should try to find her there.”

  Neil raised his camera and snapped a few shots of the gymnasium. Then he waved for the other three to line up. “Smile!” he said as the flash lit up the room.

  They wandered. The labyrinthine hallways were dark, some of them almost pitch-black. Neil’s flashlight came in handy as they stumbled through doorways, past overturned gurneys and dust-encrusted wheelchairs, and up a narrow flight of stairs. Spiders and insects scurried away from the sudden glare. Neil kept his body tight, his limbs close to his torso, in case something reached out to grab him.

  The group had no idea where they were headed. Neil took comfort in snapping pictures along the way. Alexi and Mark always said: You never know what the camera might pick up.

  “Where are the padded rooms?” asked Wesley. “And blood. I don’t see streaks anywhere.”

  “Yeah,” said Bree. “What about graffiti in the stairwells? I thought this place was going to be much creepier. It just seems dirty.” Neil held his tongue. From the way she was scooting ahead to be close to Eric, he knew she was nervous. “And if I wanted to be scared of dirt, I’d just look under Neil’s bed back in New Jersey. I swear, he’s got some hostile dust bunnies.”

  Now she’d gone too far. “Such a comedian,” said Neil. “Maybe I should tell them what I found under your bed last month.”

  “Don’t you dare!”

  “I don’t believe every story I hear,” said Eric smoothly, keeping his voice low. “About this place especially. Maybe there are no padded rooms. No bloody hallway streaks. But we haven’t even seen a tenth of what this place has to offer yet.”

  Neil took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  “Look,” said Wesley, pointing at a sign that was posted on a nearby wall.

  Activity Rooms

  Adult Ward

  Cafeteria

  Exercise Yard

  Youth Ward

  “Sweet,” Eric said. “Maybe the cafeteria is serving snacks. I could totally go for some nachos right now.”

  Bree chuckled.

  Wesley grabbed his brother’s sleeve and tugged him in the opposite direction. “Come on, Eric. You’re gonna drive Neil crazy.”

  As they all headed toward the youth ward, that word hung in the air, collecting dust.

  Crazy.

  Neil took the lead, trying to outrun it.

  Worn linoleum covered the floors, and cracked white ceramic lined the walls. The hallways in this section of the building were long and straight. The group’s footfalls echoed, ringing in their ears, as every step brought them farther away from their entry point and closer toward what they hoped was their goal. They walked without speaking — as if out of respect for the former occupants. Or out of plain old fear. Maybe a little of both.

  Neil marked down each turn in his notebook so that they would have a clue about how to get back out.

  He understood quite well how clues worked. His mother, Linda, had been fine until January, when his father had announced he was moving out. Marriages ended all the time, Neil understood, but usually there was some big sign that something was wrong — fights mostly, at least according to those
of his friends whose parents had split up. But Neil’s clues had come during the strange silences at dinners, or nights when he listened to his mom cry herself to sleep.

  Neil closed his notebook. Eventually, the group came to a double door. Through panes of glass that were embedded with crisscrossed wire, they saw the doors led to a large, rectangular room. Sunlight spilled in from tall windows along the opposite wall. Eric pulled on the door handle. A sweet, almost nauseating scent escaped. Wesley sneezed.

  After they’d all slipped inside, Bree gasped. On the far left side of the room, a table had been set up as if for some sort of party. A festive cloth — faded blue with whitefaced, grinning clowns — covered the table. Someone had arranged paper plates for a large gathering that seemed to have never occurred. A cake, which looked as though it had solidified underneath its faded pink sugar coating, perched in the center on a small silver stand. A large chunk of it was missing. Several conical party hats littered the floor. And a banner had half-fallen from its place on the wall beyond. It read HAPPY BIRTHDAY.

  “Weird,” Bree whispered, entranced. She bent to pick up one of the hats from the floor but stopped herself, as if she needed to protect the site in the same way an archeologist would.

  “Still hungry?” Neil said as Eric stepped forward. “It’s not nachos, but petrified cake might be yummy too.” Eric ignored him, turning slowly in a circle, taking in the room, mesmerized by what they’d found.

  The youth ward.

  Toys lay scattered on the floor. The glass eyes of a wooden rocking horse stared out at nothing in particular, waiting blithely for its next rider. An incomplete jigsaw puzzle sat on the floor a few feet from the windows, its image bleached nearly white by the southern sunlight that had moved slowly across the room every day for the past fifteen or so years. To the right of the windows, a shelving unit was packed with a large variety of dolls and stuffed animals, some of which had inexplicably toppled to the ground, lying like corpses at a murder scene. The rest of the creatures seemed to wait, as if their dormant lives could be reactivated by someone picking them up and offering to play.