The Unearthed: Book One, The Eddie McCloskey Series (17 page)

“What’s up?” Eddie asked. He brought his camera up and panned it around.

“Look.” Stan pointed to the corner.

A boy, or what appeared to be a boy, cowered in the corner of the room, between the sofa and the bookshelves. He had his hands over his ears, and his eyes squeezed shut. He was outlined in electric blue, his body veiled by a haze.

Eddie heard Tim’s heavy, hurried footsteps, and then Tim appeared in the room. He didn’t see Talia. She must have stayed in the foyer.

“We are in the living room,” Tim said into his mike. “And we have encountered a visible presence. Eddie is recording this on the digital camera. Eddie, can you make out the presence in the camera?”

“Yeah.” He couldn’t believe his eyes. They’d never seen anything like this before. Of the few images they’d encountered, none had ever been so clearly human, and almost all were only caught on camera, not by the naked eye. This was something else entirely. Maybe they were recording something no one else had ever seen before.

“Eamon?” Tim asked, kneeling next to Stan. “Is that you?”

The boy didn’t respond.

“My name is Tim. Can you hear me?”

The boy started to hum.

Eddie knew he was better with children than Tim. The kid wasn’t listening to Tim, that much was obvious. There was only one thing for Eddie to do: take control of the conversation. He took a step toward the boy.

“Don’t go near him!” Talia blurted out, now standing behind them.

“Ed—” Tim said.

“Let me handle this. I’m better with children.”

“Be careful.”

“Are you Billy?” Eddie ignored Tim’s glare. “Billy?”

The boy did not respond. His humming grew in intensity.

“Are you William?” Eddie took another step forward.

“That’s enough, Ed,” Tim said. “Don’t push it.”

Eddie started to say something to Tim, but the boy suddenly shot up. He turned his head and opened his eyes and screamed, a piercing scream that reverberated throughout the house, a scream so intense Eddie felt it echo within himself and could feel his pulse in his ears and the thwump of his heart.

Talia palmed her ears and put her head down.

The noise was getting worse and now it seemed to come from within him. It was the cry of a child in pain and lashing out. It was the cry of impending madness.

Eddie rushed to Talia when he saw her. She’d crumpled to the ground and had her hands over her ears. He helped her up, put his arm around her shoulders and started to lead her out of the room, despite the fact that he didn’t want to miss anything. She needed to get out of the house.

The windows rattled, the house thundered, and Eddie saw the front door fly open as if someone had kicked it. Then he saw Charlie rush in. “What the—” he heard Charlie shout, but his voice was drowned out by the shrieking, now not just supernatural in nature, but also emanating from Talia. The pitch of her scream rose until it matched that of the child.

“Everyone out!” Eddie heard Tim shout. Then he felt Stan and Tim right behind him as he directed Talia toward Charlie and the front door.

Talia didn’t need any further prodding. She rushed to the front door, nearly barreling into Charlie, who stood dumbfounded with shoulders hunched up and hands over his ears.

Before Talia reached the front door, it slammed shut. Eddie rushed up beside her, feeling his stomach drop.

Talia shot her hand up to the knob and turned and turned, but the door wouldn’t budge. Then she tried to flip the deadbolt, but it wouldn’t move, either. She lost her grip on the bolt repeatedly, clawed at it, tried to move it with two hands to no avail.

They weren’t leaving through the front door.

A
t
12:17 AM on October the tenth, Eamon Moriarty was shaken awake by his Uncle. Eamon continued screaming, even after waking, while Sean continued to shake him, believing him to be still asleep. Tears ran down Eamon’s face. It was all happening again in his mind, all the arguing, all the fighting, the knife, the screaming, the stabbing. He hadn’t been able to remember it that well in a long time, not that he cared to.

“Eamon! Eamon!” Sean shouted.

Eamon kept screaming.

Sean wrapped him up in his beefy arms and squeezed him. “You’re okay, Eamon. Everything is okay.”

“They’re still fighting. All of them.” Eamon’s scream became a whimpering cry.

“But they can’t hurt you anymore. No one’s going to hurt you.”

Chefaun entered Eamon’s room, tying her robe at the waist.

“Eamon, baby,” she said, rushing to his side. “Did you have a bad dream?”

He shot his arms out to her. It was more a bad memory than a nightmare.

Sean released him, and Chefaun took over the hugging.

“Is everything okay?” Eamon heard Steven say. He stood in Eamon’s door, his eyes squinting from the light. Eamon didn’t want Steven to know anything was wrong, because he knew that Steven would just make fun of him for it, or even worse, tell his friends so they could ridicule him too.

“Get out of my room!”

“Eamon, don’t talk to Steve like that,” Sean said harshly. “He came here to see if you were alright.”

“No, he didn’t. He’ll just keep calling me a fag. Fag, fag, fag, fag, fag, fag—”

“Eamon! That’s enough!”

“Sean!” Chefaun said. “You two leave me and Eamon alone, will you?” She pointed at the door. Steven started to speak, but she cut him off. “Back to bed, young man.”

* * * *

As quickly as it had started, the screaming had ceased.

When it was done, Talia tried the deadbolt again, and it flipped over. Tim watched her rush out of the house. When he stepped onto the porch, he saw Michelle and Moira there, panic all over their faces. Tim watched Talia closely—she ran to one of the sycamores on the lawn and grabbed it as her legs gave out.

“Are you okay?” Michelle threw her arms around Tim.

Her touch felt good. He squeezed her, feeling his anger dissipate a little. He was furious with Eddie.

“I’m all right, baby.”

“What happened?” Moira asked Tim.

“We lost control of the situation.” Before he finished his sentence, he looked at Eddie. He didn’t hide his anger while the rest of them made their way out onto the porch.

“It’s the Moriartys,” Eddie said. “They’re causing all of the problems.”

“Ed—”

“Who else could it be?”

“There was also another spirit in there.” Tim turned to Moira. “Could have been Sylvia Thompson. We spoke to it.”

“That was probably one of the Moriartys,” Eddie said. “Just pretending to be her. You don’t know that.”

“Tim—” Michelle said.

“And you don’t either,” Tim told Eddie. He broke out of his hug with Michelle. “We never rule anything out until we’re absolutely certain. We never commit to anything until we’re absolutely certain. How many times do I have to tell you that?” Tim stepped toward Eddie. Eddie had gone too far this time. He had tried to get closer to the boy, the boy had screamed bloody murder, and they’d been trapped inside the house, unable to hear themselves think over the noise.

Eddie held Tim’s stare for a minute, before waving him off. Then he walked off the porch and toward Talia.

“Tim—”

Tim could tell Michelle was trying to calm him down. And she was probably right to do it. Now was not the time to lose his temper. He was in charge and needed to act that way.

Moira came over. “Tim.”

He nodded at her.

“Sylvia Thompson is still alive. She’s pretty old, but she’s still alive. I found a reference to her in last month’s Central Record.”

“Double-check and call them tomorrow to inquire.”

“I was going to, Tim. I know how to follow up.”

Tim realized he had snapped and shook his head. “I’m sorry, M.”

She seemed to accept his apology.

Tim said, “Maybe Sylvia left a residual here. I’ve never seen something like that, but I heard it was possible.”

“What do you mean?” Michelle asked.

Tim took a deep breath to calm himself. “A residual is a recording of something. Sometimes there’s a traumatic event, which stirs up a lot of energy. And that energy, or some of it, stays there. Normally, residuals are left by people who have passed on. But there have been a few encounters suggestive of the living being able to do it, too.”

“Back that one up,” Charlie said.

Moira looked at him sideways. “You mean a ghost of a person who’s still alive?”

“Not a ghost in the traditional sense, but yes, along the same lines.”

“Goddamn,” Charlie said.

“Guys, what made that kid scream like that?” Stan asked.

Tim thought about it. “Maybe it was us.”

“He seemed pretty unresponsive to us. Maybe he was part of a residual.”

“Good point.”

“There was a kid screaming?” Moira asked. “We thought it was one of you.”

Tim nodded. Now they were working like a team, trying to solve the problem. “We got a great visual on a presence, and Eddie was able to record it. Full body apparition. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Or heard of anything like it,” Stan said.

“What did it look like?” Michelle asked.

Tim described it. Then: “When it didn’t respond to us, Eddie took a couple steps closer to it. Then it started screaming its head off. It was the loudest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Bet your ass it was,” Stan said. “Probably blew out our mikes. I’d better check them.”

“Good idea.” At least his team still had it together.

* * * *

“What’s going on in there?” Billy asked, still perched in his tree. The backs of his legs were sore from sitting on the tree limb for so long now, and he was feeling antsy. He wanted to go home. He wanted to lay down in his own bed. He didn’t care how angry Dad was at this point. Anything was better than sitting in a tree, in the woods, in the middle of the night.

Your Mom doesn’t care about you.

“What’re you talkin’ about?”

She’s more worried about getting ghosts out of the house than finding you. She never even wanted to have you.

“That’s not true.”

It is. Your Dad wanted a kid. She didn’t.

“That’s not true!”

If you don’t believe me, go ask her.

“I—I don’t want to right now.”

Because you’re afraid of what your Dad will do to you when you get home.

“I am not.”

You know what’s going to happen.

“What?”

When you get home.

“Nothing’s going to happen.”

Your parents will be arguing. Like they always do.

“They don’t argue that much.”

They’ll start fighting. And then Dad will be pissed at you, even though you didn’t do anything wrong.

“But I did.”

And he’ll come after you. He won’t think he’s going to hit you when he steps toward you at first, but he will. And then he won’t stop.

“You’re wrong.” Billy tried to fight back tears but couldn’t. Why was this happening? Why had they moved into this house at all? They had all been so happy in the other place. He’d overheard his parents talking at night—Mom had wanted to stop working full-time, and they had talked about “living for less,” a phrase they had thrown around a lot. So they had moved further from the city where Mom and Dad had worked, bought this house, and then Dad had started to work from home. They’d decided to move here, to a place where Billy had no friends, to a house that was haunted, where people had died.

I’m your only friend in the whole world, Billy.

“You’re not my friend.” But he wasn’t so sure. Maybe It was right.

Don’t believe me if you don’t want to. But just think about it. Once he starts, he won’t stop until one of you is hurt really bad. Or worse.

“I’m not going to talk to you anymore,” Billy whimpered. Dad wouldn’t hurt him. Would he?

I’m just trying to help you. Watch out for him.

“Don’t do anything else in the house. Leave them alone. Please.”

Your parents will get what they deserve.

“Please. Don’t.”

You’ll be happy I did what I’m doing. Especially when your Dad hits you.

“He would never—”

Then why did you run away?

“Because …”

I’ve seen it in his eyes. And so have you. He’s angry all the time.

“Why are you doing this?”

Because I’m your friend.

Billy started to speak, but the air changed around him. And then he was alone again.

“Ar
e
you okay?” Eddie asked.

Talia had her back to him and was still hugging the tree.

She turned around and wrapped her arms around his neck. He was taken aback, but after a moment, he put his arms around her as well. She cleaved to him and cried into his shoulder.

Talia pulled her head away and wiped under her eyes with the back of one hand. “I’m sorry. Your shirt—” She used the bottom of her sleeve to wipe Eddie’s shoulder. “I got my makeup all over you. God, and I probably look a mess.”

“You don’t. You always look nice.”

Talia kept her one arm around Eddie’s neck. “You’re too kind.”

“I’m sorry things got out of hand in there.” Eddie felt awkward, but didn’t pull away from her. Though he’d had no idea the ghost-boy would start screaming if he approached, he felt responsible for everything.

“It wasn’t your fault. There’s evil in that house.” He was grateful she didn’t blame him for what had just happened. “I don’t ever want to go back inside.”

“Billy will come back. He’s a good kid.”

She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. At the same time, light flooded all around them.  Eddie turned to see Jackie had come home and was pulling the car into the driveway. Talia moved a few steps away.

Jackie got out of his car and slammed the door.

“What’s going on here?” he asked, crossing the lawn and walking over to Eddie and Talia.

“Nothing,” Talia said, sounding surprised and a little scared. She wiped under her eyes more.

Jackie turned to face Eddie. “Well?”

“Mr. Rosselli,” Eddie started before he realized that it made sound like he had done something wrong, “we just had a rough encounter. Your wife was upset by it. And she’s upset about Billy. I just came over to give her a hug.”

Jackie locked his jaw into place. Then the skin around his eyes softened. “What happened? Are you okay?” He pulled her close.

* * * *

“What’s our play?” Stan asked Tim.

Tim chewed on his bottom lip. “Billy is still missing.”

No one spoke.

Eddie said, “We keep going.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Moira said.

Eddie said, “The cops are already looking for Billy. The only way we can help is to get some answers out of the ghosts in this house.”

Tim felt all eyes shift to him. His knee-jerk was to disagree, but Eddie was right. He’d acted recklessly inside, but he had a point.

“Agreed,” Tim said. “We push on. And we have to figure out a way to talk to Billy.”

“What if that was Billy?” Stan said.

“Then we try again. But not like Eddie did.”

Jackie approached. “I’m coming inside with you.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“My house. End of story.”

Tim swallowed his words. “You must follow my lead.”

“Fair enough.”

“Okay, everybody take five. We’ll move back inside after.” He stepped off the porch and walked to the driveway. He felt tired. Stiff. Feet sore from being on them all day. He took in a big gulp of air, let it out slowly. He felt a hand on his back.

“I want to come inside with you,” Michelle said. “I can help. Please. You need me.”

“It’s too dangerous.”

“Jackie’s going in.”

“That’s because I can’t keep him out.”

“That means you need somebody to keep an eye on him while you do your thing.”

Tim shook his head. “You can help me most by staying out here, keeping Talia company. She needs it.”

Michelle was silent for a moment. “Tim?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s after midnight.”

He didn’t know what that meant.

“It’s October tenth.”

Then he got it.

Michelle said, “Three years ago today, the Moriartys … Maybe that’s why there’s a lot of activity in the house.”

“It’s very possible. You picked up on the date?”

“Told you I could help.”

“You are good.”

“I rest my case.”

“Don’t worry. It’s probably just a coincidence. Besides, the massacre took place during the evening of October the tenth. Not the early morning.”

“That’s comforting.”

* * * *

“It’s okay, hon. Everything will be fine,” Chefaun said. She ran her fingers through Eamon’s brown hair a few times gently. “If you need me, you wake me up, okay?”

Eamon nodded, his eyes half open.

Chefaun got off the bed and turned out Eamon’s light. On her way out, she shut the door behind her.

It wasn’t the first time Eamon had been terrified like this. The doctor had called them night terrors, which were extreme forms of nightmares, wherein the person having one wouldn’t be able to tell it wasn’t real, even sometimes after waking. More than once Eamon had woken up in their room and been unable to recall even getting into bed with them.

Chefaun retraced her steps to the master bedroom down the hallway, and closed the door. She tiptoed to bed and got under the covers as carefully as possible, so as not to rouse Sean.

“You back, girl?” Sean asked groggily.

“Oh, I’m back.” She slid across the bed until she nestled with him, making sure to stick her rump out so he could feel it.

“You dirty girl, you.” He sounded a little more awake.

“I’m worried, Sean.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“These night terrors are getting worse.”