Chapter 17
Samantha tried her best to calm Henry, and eventually, he regained his composure. But as much as he tried to hide his fear, his hands were still trembling. Samantha, however, was much better at concealing her fear, but having just experienced what could easily be thought of as life threatening, her reaction would later manifest itself as something more personal.
“Henry,” she began. “We don't have to go back there, okay?”
She put a hand on his shoulder, and squeezing gently pushed the stress from his body. Every muscle relaxed as he let out a deep sigh. But when he opened his eyes, he found himself confronted by something that again, brought his fears back to life.
“What the fuck is that?!” he yelled.
Looking up, Henry saw the tower lit by a mysterious glow as an oddly shaped figure stood within it, its hands pressed against the beveled windows. Samantha stepped in closer and reassured him that they safe.
“Henry,” she said. “That's the light I told you about, remember?”
He recalled their conversation but hearing it told to him was much different than seeing it himself. He had always believed in such things as ghosts, but believing had now been replaced by knowing, and witnessing it first-hand terrified him.
“Uh, this is a little much for me,” he said. “I gotta go.”
Henry backed away a few steps, turned and ran. Samantha could neither stop him nor keep up, and as soon as she was out of breath, she stopped and grabbed her knees, watching as Henry disappeared beyond the border of the street lights steady white beam.
From there, Samantha began the walk home. She was too tired to run, and her mind was not yet clear of the terror she also felt. By the time she got home, it was near eleven o' clock. Her mother was working nights at the hospital, and had already left for work, leaving Samantha alone in the house. After spending the last two or three hours in the Cummings house, being alone brought an eerie sensation to the quiet stillness of what she called home. Out of a sense of responsibility, as well as the need to hear someone's else's voice, she took out her cell phone and called her mother. She had not yet arrived at the hospital, and answered immediately.
“Hey, mom,” she began.
Samantha was successfully able to mask the anxiety generated by the fear of her experience in what she discovered to be a very active house.
“Yeah, I'm home.”
A few moments passed as her mother inquired as to how her night had gone. Samantha underplayed her response.
“It went okay, I guess. Me and Henry will watch the camcorder tapes later. Right now, I just want to go to bed. I'm really tired.”
Hanging up, Samantha turned off her phone, and walked the stairs leading to her room. She put the camcorder and phone on her desk next to her laptop, changed into a nightshirt and crawled into bed. Turning off the light, she quickly fell into a deep sleep, and in spite of her experience, her slumber was devoid of any disturbing imagery or emotions. Unlike Henry, Samantha was fortunate to receive a full night of deep, peaceful sleep.
Henry, on the other hand, was unable to shut off his mind as images and sounds contaminated his consciousness. A breeze blew into his room through an open window, but it was not enough to prevent a tense sweat from drenching his skin. By morning, he was exhausted, his nerves shattered by an ongoing loop of fear, adrenaline, and the sound of a gunshot, fired from empty space. He had looked forward to accompanying Samantha on their first paranormal investigation, but he lacked the strength to cope with something that seemed malicious. A bump from within a wall was one thing, even a faint voice on a digital recorder could be unemotionally examined, but what Henry had heard and seen was beyond his ability to deal with. His sense of reason had been badly fractured but through all of this, he still wanted to continue, for no other reason than to be with Samantha. He at least, wanted to try to save face and prove to her that he was tough enough to handle whatever was thrown at him.
Later that day, that was a knock at Henry's door. Out of concern, Samantha arrived to see how he was doing. It was early afternoon, and he and his parents had returned from church only an hour before. Normally, Henry did not attend, having difficulty believing in such things as God. But on that particular Sunday, he decided to accompany his parents to services. He didn't know exactly why he went. Maybe he was looking for something, or maybe he was seeking a bit of quiet meditation. However, once he arrived, he did find a strange sense of solace. Perhaps it was the smiling faces among the congregation, or the slow rhythm of liturgical music. Whatever it was, he left for home feeling, not only collected but oddly comforted as he felt his emotional state returning to normal.
Opening the door, Henry found Samantha with an expression of deep concern. After the previous night, she felt an obligation to be sure he had recovered. The last thing she wanted was to see Henry disabled by his experience.
“Henry,” she said. “You okay?”
She was more than a bit surprised to see him with a relaxed appearance, given that the last time she saw him he was running off into the darkness, scared out of his mind.
“Uh, yeah, sure,” he replied.
He was still dressed in the clothes he had worn to church, and wanted to change out of them as soon as possible.
“Can you give me a couple of minutes? I need to get out of this suit.”
“Oh, yeah,” Samantha replied. “I'll just wait out here.”
Henry closed the door and started towards his room as Samantha sat on the front steps. Only a few minutes had passed before Henry appeared and sat down next to her.
“So Henry,” she began. “How ya doing?”
She thought that an open-ended question might prompt him into offering an honest answer about his reaction at the Cummings house.
“Actually, I'm okay,” he replied. “In fact, I feel pretty good.”
Samantha was shocked to see how quickly he had recovered. She wanted to review their notes and recordings with him, but given his terrified reaction during the previous night, she thought it might be unkind to press the matter.
“Are you sure?” she asked.
Henry leaned back and stretched out his legs with the idea that it was important that Samantha be convinced that he had fully recovered.
“Yeah,” he answered. “I think going to church helped a lot.”
Surprised by Henry's answer, she inquired about why he would attend in the first place.
“I didn't think you believed in all that stuff.”
“I don't,” he said. “But the people who go are pretty supportive, and I think some of them saw that I was a bit sketched out. They're a pretty good bunch of people. They're not into all that judging and shit.”
Samantha shared Henry's beliefs but understood why he would seek out the comfort of kindness, even if they didn't know his reason for being there.
“That's great,” Samantha said. “It's nice to know that you've got people looking out for you.”
She told herself she would not rush Henry into watching the camcorder footage, but under the circumstances, she saw no harm in asking.
“So, do you want to go over the recordings today?”
Henry 's hesitation gave away his discomfort with the idea of again, facing whatever it was that had, so madly, driven him away. Having read his hesitation, Samantha apologized, not wanting to see him fall apart again.
“I'm sorry,” she began. “I didn't mean to...”
“It's okay,” Henry interrupted. “I just don't think I'm ready for it today. How about Saturday?”
Classes would be starting soon, and both knew there wouldn't be much homework during the first week of school, so they agreed to meet at Samantha's house to review their footage.