Gerard stood dubiously at the foot of the hill, his arms crossed over his chest in the cold evening air. The old house seemed to have a life of its own. The chipped gray paint and dull white shutters shivered, as if the structure were breathing. It was no wonder the place had a reputation for being haunted. There was an ominous, creepy feeling around it.
�You want to go in there, Oliver?� Evan asked incredulously. His voice quavered a little. Evan hated old houses. They creaked and didn�t let in enough light, and they smelled like death. People had died in this house, died horrible and insane deaths. Why would anyone want to go into this place?
Oliver clapped Evan on the shoulder and looked up at the visage of the structure. �Why not go in, Evan? Aren�t you up for a little adventure? It�s just a haunted house; you know that shit isn�t real. They just make it up to scare the tourists.�
�We ARE the tourists,� Evan mumbled in response. As much as he didn�t want to go, Oliver was hard to refuse. He was always so excited, and that made you want to go anywhere with him. And there was a certain morbid curiosity� It was still early evening, the light would last a few more hours. What could possibly happen? �What do you think, Gerard?� Evan asked warily, eyeing the door of the house. It flapped open and closed with the breeze, a mouth waiting to devour whomever dared to enter.
Gerard sucked at his broken front tooth thoughtfully, pondering the intelligence of three men venturing into an abandoned house in an unfamiliar place when it was almost dark. What would happen if they got caught? Still, as an artist, he was curious. He wanted to know what the inside of a place this terrible looked like. And Oliver was right, it couldn�t possibly be haunted. Gerard believed in many things, but vengeful ghosts were one thing he was skeptical about. It just didn�t happen.
�I don�t see what harm it could do, Evan. Just a few minutes before it�s dark. I�d like to see what it looks like.� Evan�s face relaxed a little with Gerard�s assurances. Evan trusted Gerard unconditionally. �We just have to be careful so we won�t get caught.�
Oliver eagerly began his trek up the hill. �We won�t get caught. Now come on, let�s get in there and check it out!� Gerard and Evan followed him, not aware of what they were really getting themselves into.
****
Oliver delicately held the door open with his long fingers until Gerard and Evan had entered behind him. He let go of the door, and it resumed its flapping. Oliver wiped dust and grime on his pants as he looked around. The ground floor was rather unimpressive. It was covered in a film of dirt, and all the windows were broken, decrepit shutters hanging from their hinges. Of course, the ground floor wasn�t supposed to be the fascinating part.
The upstairs was where everything was supposed to have� happened.
Evan and Gerard listened patiently as Oliver incessantly chattered, telling the whole story over again. His two friends could have recited it by now just as well as he could, but they put up with it because he was so animated, so thrilled to be in a REAL haunted house, as he so eloquently put it.
The house had been a museum ages ago when American Indians were a spectacle to be seen. It had held wax sculptures of the aptly named �Red Men,� giving visitors a taste of what they looked like and how they lived. What most hadn�t known was actual families of Native Americans had been shipped to the museum, and their bodies cast in wax to make the sculptures. The horrifying night the authorities discovered the scandal had made the house famous.
A family of three had been brought for use in the museum; a father, a little girl, and a baby. The mother had died in passage, her body had been too decomposed for the wax. The children and the father were in excellent healthy condition, and the owners had planned to knock them out with chloroform and kill them, making them into wax statues. Plans had gone awry, however, when the father decided to fight.
Wanting his children to survive, he had killed one of the men, viciously grappling with the other as his daughter had run with the baby. She had stopped at the stairs, hiding behind a display of old, sun-worn natives in rocking chairs, to make sure her father would be all right. Leaving the baby on the back of one of the wax figures, she had witnessed her father�s death. He had choked on the hot wax they were trying to cover him with, dying before her eyes. The stories said her feet had been rooted to the spot and she couldn�t be moved, so her body had simply been left to waste away. The baby had been forgotten, and the father�s body mysteriously disappeared. His spirit was said to haunt the house, seeking revenge for his dead children and himself.
�Did you know,� Oliver began, �they say you can see the bones of the children in the same spot they died all those years ago? This is going to be wicked!� His dark eyes danced, falling on a single stairway leading up. He motioned to his friends to follow him, stepping lightly towards the stairs.
Gerard and Evan momentarily shivered in the aftermath of Oliver�s tale. It hadn�t lost its shock factor, but it was mostly appealing because of its family values. It was a poignant story, and the wax museum had certainly been a reality. But Gerard, and even Evan, knew most of the story had to be fabricated. Bodies didn�t just disappear, and the children being immovable was another impossibility. It was just too farfetched to believe.
Still, Gerard shuddered and pulled his long coat around him tighter as he and Evan ascended the stairs after Oliver.
****
Evan edged closer to Gerard as the darkness closed in around them. Tiny noises throughout the house became deafening, almost oppressive. Time seemed to slow as the trio made their way to the top of the stairs and the warped wooden door blocking their view of the room beyond.
Oliver turned, a malicious glint in his eyes. �Are you guys ready for this?� Gerard just stared back at the younger man, challenging him to open the door and hopefully throw some light into the inky stairwell. Evan seemed frozen at Gerard�s side, and his lips moved silently.
Turn around. Go back.
Evan�s head snapped up, his bright blue eyes reflecting terror. �I don�t think we should do this,� he managed in a small voice, shivering uncontrollably. The words echoed in his head, frigid dead whispers that chilled the warm summer wind. The voice had been that of a little girl. �Please, Oliver, let�s go back.�
Oliver sighed and sagged against the wall. �Come on, Evan, nothing is going to happen. What could possibly happen? It�s just an old house that�s a tourist attraction. People come here to stand on the bottom of the hill and take pictures.�
�If nothing is going to happen, then let�s just leave. Please, Oliver, I�ve got a really bad feeling about this!� Gerard grabbed Evan�s arm and held the boy steady as he teetered on the stairway.
�Maybe Evan�s right, Oliver. Maybe we should just go back,� he said quietly. He wasn�t willing to put one friend through this just for the happiness of another. �Come on, Oliver, let�s go.�
Oliver rolled his eyes and reached for the door. �I don�t care if you guys want to leave, but I�m going in. This is ridiculous.� His gaze still locked on them, he didn�t see the eerie light begin emanating from beneath the door. Blood pounded in Evan�s ears as he screamed at Oliver not to touch the door. But he was too late. The door opened and Evan fell to his knees, hitting his head on the stone stairs and passing out even as Gerard and Oliver fell back against him.
****
Evan shook his head gently, the floor cold against his face. His head ached. He put his palms out, feeling for the edges of the stone stairs. He couldn�t find them, yet they should have been right beneath him. Instead, he felt wood. Rough wood. Had he been moved? He�
Evan gasped as he looked up. Gerard stood in the corner of what Evan could now see was a large room with an open door at the end of it. He looked dazed, and his jaw was red and swelling. When his gray eyes cleared, his lips curled up into a snarl, aimed at someone Evan could not see. As Gerard opened his mouth to speak, Evan tried to turn his head, but he found the task impossible. It felt like his body was no longer under his control. His eyes were riveted to the older man, and his breath caught in his throat as a low, guttural voice that wasn�t Gerard�s erupted from the man�s mouth, sending shivers up Evan�s spine.
�You�ll pay for that, you filthy Injun,� Gerard spat. His eyes flashed dangerously, and Evan felt his head turn to look at the recipient of his friend�s words. His mouth dropped open and his hands pushed himself away from the floor to stand on his feet as he recognized Oliver, a thin line of blood running down the side of his face. His legs were bent at the knees, and he looked like a cat ready to spring. He sneered in return.
�If you�re going to make me pay, come and get me,� he taunted. The voice he spoke in didn�t belong to him, just like Gerard�s. It was sharp and grating, bitter and betrayed, unlike Oliver�s light, carefree voice, always tinged with a bit of British accent that finished his sentences. This voice was baleful. This voice was ready to kill.
Evan struggled against the force holding him as Gerard accepted the challenge, striding towards Oliver�s waiting form. Gerard was much stronger than youthful, slim Oliver. His broad shoulders and hard physique would surely be Oliver�s undoing. But no matter how hard Evan tried, he couldn�t move. Whatever was controlling him dictated his actions. His head snapped to the side and he met Oliver�s smoldering eyes.
�Run, little one,� Oliver said urgently, licking his lips in a feral manner as his eyes once again shifted towards Gerard. �Run with your baby brother, run while you still can.�
Cold realization seeped over Evan as he turned on his heel and fled, his arms cradling the empty air as if it were a bundle of child. The vicious sounds of a fight began behind him, and he desperately tried to break the spirit�s hold, but he was in thrall. He couldn�t help his friends.
As Evan�s body was propelled through the door, his eyes fell on a grotesque display, the same display Oliver had described earlier in the stairwell. Old wax figures of Indian men hunched in rocking chairs loomed before him, and he looked about frantically, finally running behind one and wedging the pocket of air he carried between the chair and a dead man�s back. A hollow, empty cry echoed through the air, and Evan�s breathing became more erratic. His head was swimming. He felt like he was going to pass out again.
He turned back to the doorway, straining to see through it. What if they killed each other? He couldn�t let them hurt each other! They flashed past his vision repeatedly, and his eyes began to blur. He felt himself teeter dangerously, and his hand flew to his mouth to stifle his ugly wrenching sob as he heard both of his friends cry out in their ungodly voices.
In the next second, he fell to the floor and lost consciousness.
****
Gerard�s feet moved on their own, stumbling in what seemed like a drunken stupor over the floor. He felt power flowing through his veins, and he had managed to dodge all of Oliver�s blows so far. The younger man�s left hand was curled loosely, as if he were holding something. From the way he was swinging it, Gerard assumed it was a knife.
Gradually, he began to realize the drunken stupor was actually a delicate stepping around objects in the room. To him, it appeared empty, but to the spirit inhabiting his body, it was the way it had been on that night many years ago when it had died. Gerard tried with all his might to stop as his fist crashed into Oliver�s face, giving him a bloody and possibly broken nose. But his body wouldn�t obey his mind, and he had to be content being engulfed in remorseful terror as the vicious rivalry continued.
A gurgling sound filled Gerard�s ears whenever he moved to the right corner of the room, and he tried to stay away from it, afraid of what it could be. His chin was forced upwards by a swift uppercut, and his stomach ached as Oliver kicked it hard. He retaliated with two swift punches aimed at the chest, knocking the slimmer man to the floor. His hand uncurled, and Gerard�s palm slammed down on the wrist hard to prevent his companion from grabbing the invisible knife once again. He vaguely realized tears were falling down both their cheeks, but there were no other signs that they were sorry for what they were doing to each other.
Gerard slammed Oliver�s wrist into the floor again, hearing the sickening crunch of bones as it broke. Oliver cried out in the disembodied voice that belonged to the dead entity commanding his body, bringing his knee up to crack against Gerard�s chin. The skin split, spilling blood over Oliver�s jeans and Gerard�s shirt. Gerard felt himself being thrown roughly to the ground face first, the hard wood of the floor scraping flesh off his cheek. His jacket was ripped right off his shoulders, his shirt tearing as fingernails scratched down his back. His hair was yanked on until a bloody clump of it came out in Oliver�s hand, and Gerard�s eyes had a red sheen over them because of the blood running into his eyes.
In one last monumental effort, Gerard kicked his leg back, catching Oliver off guard and tumbling him into the dreaded right corner. The screeching sound of metal filled Gerard�s ears as something seemed to tip over.
He raised his battered body slowly, almost blinded by the pain. Oliver�s eyes were wide open and glazed over, and his body writhed as if he were choking. Dammit, his friend was probably dying and he could do nothing about it!
A new sound came to his attention as he gazed at Oliver in utter fascination, his body irresponsive to his pleas. Gerard inwardly cringed in horror as the sound of someone choking on hot wax washed over his brain, finally claiming him in a merciful faint.
****
Oliver clawed at his throat as the sound of the spirit choking within him filled his ears. He arched his back painfully, feet dragging on the wooden floor, one hand reaching up to tense against the air. Black spots swam in front of his eyes as he felt his life ebbing away, his lungs denied air. His broken wrist throbbed, his face and clothes were covered in blood, Evan was gone, Gerard was lying prostrate on the floor�
What had he done? Through his selfishness, he had killed his friends. He felt like he was dying, they must be dead as well. His head jerked back and forth, his mouth open wide, his nose seemingly plugged.
I�m sorry, he thought desperately. I�m sorry for bringing you both here. If I had known this would happen� I should have listened to you� Oliver gasped for air one last time and fell back against the wall, sliding to the floor. His eyes remained open but lifeless, and blood trickled down the sides of his face, staining his lips. A great wind rushed throughout the room, and then all movement ceased. Three ghostly figures, mere sheens of mist, faded into the starlight, leaving the men unconscious on the floor.
****
�Gerard,� he heard someone say. �Gerard, wake up.� Gerard shook himself awake, realizing how much his body hurt as he sat up. Evan sat beside him, his wide blue eyes wet with tears. He glanced at the numerous wounds Gerard had sustained, at his blood-spattered and torn shirt, and he stammered, �Gerard? Are you going to be all right?�
Gerard nodded, a hand flying to his temple as his head throbbed. He glanced up and his gaze came to rest on Oliver, lying motionless against the wall. Gerard began to crawl towards the man, but Evan stopped him by gently grabbing his arm.
�I think he�s dead, Gerard,� he sobbed, tears pouring down his pale cheeks. If only they had never come here, if only Oliver hadn�t wanted to come to this stupid house� Through the blur of tears, Evan saw that Gerard had made his way over to Oliver and was leaning down to place his head next to the other man�s mouth. What he heard next was music to his ears.
�You better be careful, Gerard. Any closer and I might bite,� Oliver said weakly, attempting to smile through the dry blood caked on his face. Evan scrambled over to the pair, glancing over Oliver and studying his injuries.
�You don�t look too bad, considering,� he said. He opened his mouth again, but found himself at a loss for words. Oliver lifted his good hand and his fingers hovered over Gerard�s scraped cheek, split chin, and swelling jaw.
�I�m� I�m sorry I�� Gerard stilled him by shaking his head.
�Let�s just go,� he said quietly. Evan nodded in agreement, and he and Gerard helped Oliver up as they headed towards the stairwell. They stopped at the top for one more glance around the room. Oliver broke the moment.
�Let�s get the fuck out of here and never come back.�
