Paranormal Realities Box Set (4 page)

“Kizzy, wait,” Senji called. For some
reason he thought he controlled everything we did on our spelunks.

The hospital building stood as a
crumbling ruin of whitewashed brick. No one had used this building since the
1930s. City officials kept threatening to tear it down, but they were at war
with the historic preservationists who wanted to keep the place because some
famous architect designed it in the mid 1800s.

Up a flight of stairs, we reached the
double wood doors and found them locked. The nearest window, although boarded
over on the inside, was cracked open slightly, inviting entry particularly
since it was the floor to ceiling variety. But although the window obviously
wasn’t locked, it wouldn’t move even with great effort on my part. As I heaved,
the old glass in the frame rattled, threatening to break and for a moment there
seemed a distinct possibility of a shower of sharp shards raining down.

“Service offered,” Rom said behind me.
“You could be wounded.”

“We’re going to need a hammer or
something.” I turned to him.

Rom shook his head and pushed me aside.
He placed a small flashlight on the sill before pushing the window up as if it
hadn’t even been stuck. He kicked at the board behind and it clattered to the
ground inside.

Picking up Rom’s flashlight I directed it
through the opening and peered inside at a room empty except for broken glass,
soda cans, newspaper and an abandoned gurney.

A breathless Senji, followed quickly by
Petra, Chase and Franky, reached us.

“Hey guys,” Senji said. “Don’t split off
from the group. It’s dangerous. Stay together.”

“Come on.” I crawled over the sill into
the room. One step, then two, and then three. The wood floor felt spongy under
my feet. I directed the flashlight to the ground and saw a six-foot square
gaping hole not two feet ahead. Below and beyond lay a basement level.

Four more flashlight beams joined with
mine, dancing and flitting in the dark recess below us. Crates randomly
littered a concrete floor of the basement. An unidentifiable but massive black
machine—something out of sci-fi movie—lurked against one wall.
Along another wall was a door to somewhere. The morgue perhaps?

“Do you think our ropes will reach?” I
asked.

“It’s probably a twenty-foot drop,” Senji
said. With ginger movements he kneeled on a section of splintered planks and
leaned his head through the opening. “We can probably make it to that stack of
crates over there if we can find a decent place to tie off an end.”

“Why don’t we just go up to the roof?”
Chase interjected.

“The roof has preference for me also.”
Rom slid me a glance with narrowed eyes.

 
“That’s too easy,” Franky said. “It’s supposed to be UE. You
know urban exploration? Going to the basement and finding the tunnels is the
exploration part.” Franky had a bravery at odds with his rail thin body. Franky
wouldn’t have been any good at spelunking if not for the fact his flexibility
rivaled a circus contortionist’s.

“Can we at least find a staircase?” Chase
took off a glove and rubbed at the front of his tight fitting t-shirt, which he
wore atop loose hanging jeans. He swept a hand through his chin length blond
hair in a nervous motion. “I mean, there’s gotta be a staircase somewhere.”

We all ignored him, except Petra who
sighed in adoration at his gesture. I honestly didn’t know what made Chase join
our group. He never seemed that keen on actually going into anywhere more
dangerous than a restaurant.

“The guest book was supposed to be in the
morgue,” I said with irritation. The guest book was the finish line or target
area where everyone would sign in with spray can tags. “Let’s get going. I
gotta be home before Mom discovers I’m gone.”

“I vote basement.” Petra smiled at me.
She turned to Chase linking her arm through his. “We could see cool ghosts,
honey.”

“I don’t believe in ghosts, Petra pie,”
Chase said with a sour expression.

Ugh. Pet names? Guess they were back together
again as a couple.

“Besides, if we go to the roof we could
make out under the stars.” Chase took Petra into an embrace and dropped a kiss
on her lips.

“Mmmmm. You make a good case for the
roof.” Petra leaned into him. “I love…stars.”

“There aren’t any stars. It’s foggy,” I
said, probably not so nicely.

“Yeah. And we’re not going to the roof
just to watch the two of you make out,“ Franky commented.

“Come on. Kizzy could make out with Rom
too.” Petra glanced my way. “You know you want to.”

I almost lost consciousness. Petra was
out of eye gouging range, luckily for her.

“You’re ridiculous.” I gave a laugh that
sounded fake to my ears. Psychic vibes of daggers in Petra’s direction shot
from my head.

“Chill, Kizzy,” she said with seeming
obliviousness. “It’s not like he’s not giving you the eye too.”

My eyes flew to Rom and I was surprised
to see him gazing at me. He shrugged with a half smile. Face burning, I turned
back to Petra.

“You need to shut up right now, my
friend,” I said.

“It’s settled.” Senji pulled a rope from
his backpack. “I say we’re going to the basement.”

“Who died and made you the freakin'
king?” Chase asked.

“The last of your working brain cells,”
Senji replied.

“Take it back.” Chase twisted out of
Petra’s embrace and charged at Senji, getting up in his face.

“Huh?” Senji held his ground. “I can’t
help it that you’re a moron.”

“Don’t talk to my honey like that,” Petra
shouted.

As they bickered, I noticed Rom wander
out of the room.

Following him, I entered a hall just as
he disappeared into a room at its end. To my right was a staircase going up and
down. We could take the stairs to the basement after all.

I passed through the hall and entered a
room empty except for a few metal hospital bed frames without mattresses, and
of course Rom at its center. He stood unnaturally still as if expecting
something.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

Rom started then turned to me with his
signature smirk.

“Exploring.” His soft laugh enveloped me
like a cashmere afghan. “Exploring is the point is it not?”

“Yes, but—”

“Kizzy!” The call from Petra came from
the other room. “They’re gonna kill each other.”

Dashing away from Rom and toward the
group, I continued running until I was back in the main room. Senji and Chase
wrestled at the center of the wavering beam of the flashlights. A fairly girly
wrestling match. From time to time during the struggle, Petra pounded a small
fist on Senji’s back.

“Stop it you two,” I shouted, taking
another step toward them. Suddenly, my right foot broke through a plank in the
wood flooring. As my leg sank, the broken edges of the wood scraped and bit
into the skin, tearing a cut from ankle to shin.

The pain of the tearing flesh shot
through me and I screamed. The girly guy fight stopped and the group rushed toward
me. However, Rom reached me from behind first. I felt his hands under my
armpits and then he lifted me until I sat on my bum at the edge of the newly
made hole.

Rom carefully pushed up the leg of my
jeans. With his flashlight beam, Senji revealed a bleeding gash on my leg about
four inches long.

“That looks bad,” Petra said.

“It’s just a scrape,” I replied. Yeah. A
scrape that hurt like hell. Reflexively, I covered it with my gloved hand,
which didn’t stop the bleeding. I’d probably never get the blood out of the
fabric.

“You’ll infect it,” Senji warned, pushing
my hand away. After rummaging in his backpack he came out with an alcohol swab
and a large square Band-Aid. As he ministered to my leg a sound from beneath us
startled me.

“Did you hear that?” I asked.

Rom shook his head.

“No,” Petra said. “I can’t think of
anything but your poor leg.”

There it was again, like hearing a
pounding against the metal door of a submarine, twenty thousand leagues under
the sea.

“Now?”

More shrugging and shaking of heads from
my friends.

“I hear nothing,” Rom insisted. But his
sideways glance and something in his expression contradicted his words.

“You’re lying,” I said. “Why?”

Rom ignored my words and examined my leg
again.

“An end to our exploration it seems,” he
said.

“Not on my account.” I tried to stand.

Rom placed one arm under my knees and the
other around my back before lifting me easily.

“Put me down.” Ridiculous shame flashed
in me. I wanted to relax against his broad chest instead.

“Service offered.” He gazed down at me.
And as I gazed up at him, his warm breath grazed my cheek. “I offer to carry
you home.”

His words made me want to snuggle my face
into his neck and cry, an urge swiftly to be quashed.”

No,” I insisted. “It’s just a scrape and
even if it wasn’t I wouldn’t let you carry me home.”

Rom nodded and lowered me to my feet.

“Hey,” a male voice boomed from the
window. “Who gave you permission to be here?”

Crap. We’d been caught. A myriad of
punishments, including loss of my new phone, flashed before my eyes.

The flashlight belonging to the voice
wavered as someone entered through the window. My hand went up to block the
blinding light. One figure then three more came over the sill and into the
room. Their shadows lurched closer.

“Trespassing is a crime,” the voice said.
“You are in big trouble.”

We all seemed frozen, awaiting judgment.
But then the unknown entrants snickered. The police wouldn’t laugh like that.
As they moved closer our flashlight beams illuminated Billy Broadrick, Quinn
Newton and their crew of spelunkers, the BQs. And it seemed they had a new
member: my stepsister Juliette.

“Oh ho. If it isn’t the reeks.” Billy
crossed his arms over his chest.

“Reeks?” Senji asked.

“Reeks. Retard geeks. And of course you
smell. Get it?”

“Yeah,” Quinn said. “Haha. Good one.” He
held up his hand and Billy smacked it in a high five.

“Or should I call you squares.” Billy
chuckled. “Isn’t that what you call yourselves? The squares?”

“Yeah. Squares. That’s fitting,” Quinn
said. His laugh had a staccato bark quality. “Boo-fricken-yah.”

Great. Hadn’t I told Senji that the name
mc²
 
was a problem? Why did we
need a name anyway?

“Well, if it isn’t the BQs,” I drawled.
“Doesn’t that stand for Beauty Queens—emphasis on queens?”

“It stands for Billy and Quinn.” Billy
spoke through clenched teeth. “I don’t recall giving you squares permission to
be here.”

“We don’t need your stinking permission,”
Senji said.

Billy strode forward to within inches of
Senji, towering over him. “Is that right?”

“Ummm.” Senji stared into the wall of
muscle in front of him. “That’s right.”

“We were just on our way to the morgue,”
I announced.

“Ha. We were just there,” Quinn claimed
from over Billy’s shoulder.

“You were not,” Franky scoffed. “Y’all
just came through the window. The morgue’s somewhere in the basement.”

“Well, that’s where we’re going now and
we aren’t having any reeks polluting our atmosphere,” Quinn said. “If you go
now there won’t be any reek bloodshed.”

“You.” Billy pointed to Rom and walked
over to him. “You can stay, man. You’re new and probably didn’t know we have
the cool crew.” Billy offered a handshake.

Rom ignored his outstretched hand. “I
have preference for mc².”

I could have kissed him for that—or
just because he was ultra hot—but especially for the look on Billy’s
face. Like he’d swallowed rotten fish.

“Okay, man. It’s your funeral.” Billy’s
hand fell. “And if you squares don’t leave right now the funeral will be
tonight.”

“Whatever,” Franky commented.

When Billy made a forward move, Juliette
approached from behind and put a hand on his back. “Let’s go, sugar. I don’t
want a fight with my sister. We can come back another time.” She cast a smile
in my direction.

Hating her would have been so much easier
if she wasn’t so blasted sweet.

“Don’t do me any favors. Your boyfriend
doesn’t scare me.”

“How about a challenge,” Senji said. “A
race. First member to tag the morgue wins for his or her crew. Winner takes
all.”

“What does that mean?” Quinn asked.

“Winning crew gets dominance and chooses
sites without future interference from the other crew.”

“You’re on,” Billy said with a sly smile.
Clearly, he thought his band of jocks would win a race against a bunch of
losers.