Chapter 28
Samantha spent the majority of her first day back to school with a sick feeling in her stomach and sometimes close to tears. By the time the final bell rang, she considered it a miracle that she made it through the day at all. She'd forgotten about her morning conversation with Henry, and as he ran up behind her, she startled into a gasp.
“Jesus,” she said. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“Sorry,” he replied.
His voice still reflected a deep concern for the problem he would soon discover, and as she stopped, Samantha looked at him as her eyes teared up.
“Can you walk me home?” she asked.
He had seen her in this state once before, just after Eric had been taken into custody, charged with the death of the young boy, his head shattered by the fender of a passing car. Now, he had gone from concerned to frightened, and as if he were her personal guardian, Henry stayed especially close as he began walking her home.
Seeing Samantha home, there was no conversation, and for the entire time, she focused her eyes on the ground in front of her. Soon after crossing the business district, they found themselves approaching Samantha's house. Her mother had not yet returned from work, and Samantha was hesitant to go inside alone. She stopped on the sidewalk as a tear ran down her face and asked Henry if they could sit on the front steps while she waited for her mother. Joining her on the steps, Henry inquired about her fragile state, and found her answer beyond belief. In vivid detail, Samantha described the progressively graphic series of images displayed on her phone. Initially, Henry thought they might be the result of nightmares, brought on by the illness that withheld her from school. But when she described the event of that morning, Henry was at a loss for any possible explanation.
“So, what do you think this is?” he asked.
Samantha wiped the tears from her eyes. She had no idea what was behind these haunting experiences. But Henry, thinking in a different direction, started with what he thought was the beginning of this frightening course of events.
“When did all this start to happen?”
Her mind was still foggy from fear and stress, but she managed to bring herself back to the beginning, when she first became sick.
“We were at that abandoned house, the old ambulance station,” she said.
Henry thought back to their visit, and remembered something that he thought may be connected to her sudden illness.
“Yeah, what was it that happened there?” he asked. “You said you felt something. You froze, remember?”
Samantha paused as she recalled the moment when her body became nearly catatonic as she felt something move through her.
“Yeah,” she replied. “And that's when I got sick. Shit, I never puked like that before.”
“I know, you were in bad shape,” Henry began. “Beside it being gross.”
Samantha found it in her to grin slightly, and playfully shoved Henry by the shoulder.
“Shut up,” she said.
He giggled a bit at her expense, then resumed their conversation.
“Really, though, I think these things are connected. What do you think? Remember? We heard the footsteps right before it happened.”
Samantha was stunned. All of it made sense now, and both agreed that something in the house had not only made contact with her but had, for some reason, become attached to her.
“Fuck,” she began.
She was beginning to feel as though there was no escape from whatever had tightened its grasp around her.
“So what am I supposed to do? I can't keep going through this!”
For a moment, Henry was lost for an answer, but his imagination quickly took over as he remembered an old movie he'd seen based on demonic possession, where confrontation was used. He explained his idea that they would have to go back in order to try to reason with whatever, or whoever, had buried its claws in Samantha's soul.
“Do you think you can hang on for a couple of days?” Henry asked.
Samantha expressed her doubts, realizing that she was also developing a fear of sleep. Henry, however, offered a suggestion. Knowing these experiences were manifesting through her phone, he believed it would be helpful if she avoided anything that displayed an image. She could bury herself in homework as long as she didn't use her phone, or her laptop. He also felt that it might be best to take a break from television for a while. At least, until they went back to the abandoned house.
Samantha's mother was just pulling in to the driveway as they finished their conversation. She was dressed in green scrubs and seemed especially tired, having witnessed two deaths and participated in a resuscitation. Walking toward the house, she greeted Henry with a tired voice, and asked Samantha how she was feeling, suspecting that her first day back to school might be more than a little stressful. Wanting to convince her mother that she was doing better, she decorated her response with a positive voice.
“Um, I'm doing okay,” she replied.
As she continued up the front steps, Henry directed his attention to her mother's scrub-clad legs. She wore a short front-zipped windbreaker, allowing his eyes to quickly follow them up to just below the small of her back. Samantha was mortified, and as her mother opened the front door, she brought a hand up, quickly backhanding him across the shoulder.
“What?” Henry whispered.
Her mother closed the door behind her as Samantha continued scolding him.
“Really? Dude, that's my mother, remember?”
Embarrassed, Henry gave the only excuse he could think of.
“Hey, I'm a guy.”
Regaining her composure, Samantha directed Henry back to the conversation, asking him how soon they could return to the house.
“How about Saturday?' he asked.
She knew the end of the school week would bring the usual amount of homework, but if she started early, they could meet some time during late afternoon. Henry suggested they meet at Ari's Pizza at five o' clock where they could grab a slice, then go to the abandoned house. But Samantha, expecting to have difficulty getting through the next couple of days, wanted to recover her sanity, and suggested they meet Friday night instead. Under the circumstances, homework could wait.
Taking Henry's advice, Samantha avoided anything electronic, and was surprised at how easy it was, even for a few days. But her mother was quick to notice, and knowing how attached teenagers get to their cell phones and computers, considered asking about this sudden change. However, being aware of how her sleep had been disturbed over the last few nights, she thought it best to let Samantha adjust on her own. Yet, sleep did not come easily. The difficulty presented itself as an intense anticipation, as the images from her phone invaded her consciousness. Eventually, sleep came out of exhaustion, and waking the next morning, she found herself feeling much the same way. She thought that, perhaps that evening, she could talk her mother into setting up her vaporizer in her room. However, with school the following day, it was unlikely she would agree.
After her usual morning ritual, Samantha went down to the kitchen where her mother was having her coffee, and reading the morning paper.
“Hey, mom,” she said.
Her mother recognized the exhaustion in her voice, and looked up from her newspaper with a concerned expression.
“Sam,” she began. “You look awful. Are you getting sick again?”
Samantha poured a cup of coffee, and sat down across the table from her.
“No,” she replied. “I just can't sleep.”
Given everything she had been through regarding how sick she'd been her mother wasn't surprised. Sitting at the table, she let out a heavy sigh, and as she momentarily dozed off, her head began to fall forward. Seeing this, her mother tapped on the table several times, prompting her to stay awake.
“Hey, Sam,” she said. “C'mon, I know you feel like shit, but you still have to go to school, remember? Drink your coffee. It'll help you wake up.”
Her eyes snapped open as her head quickly rose. She forced herself to remain conscious long enough to finish her coffee, and by the time she was done, felt the caffeine surging through her body. Wakefulness had been achieved, but Samantha's senses were still dulled by insomnia.
It was Wednesday, and Samantha began the walk to school shortly after her mother left for work. After crossing the town's business district Henry, again, caught up to her. This time, he called to her from a distance, trying to avoid startling her.
“Hey, Sam,” he said. “How ya' doing?”
She turned to him with bloodshot eyes, and a pale complexion.
“Jesus Christ,” he continued. “You're not getting sick again, are you?”
Without stopping, Samantha's replied with an exhausted voice.
“No, I'm just not sleeping.”
Concerned, Henry inquired about what he had suggested to her.
“Are you still using your phone?”
“No,” she began. “I'm not using any of that stuff. I'm not even watching T.V. I just can't get those pictures out of my head.”
Henry thought hard, trying to come up with a solution, and was shortly struck with an idea.
“What about you, mom? Can't she just give you some of her...”
Samantha suddenly interrupted with a flare of temper.
“Henry!” she said.
Her words were quiet as she tried to prevent others from hearing the conversation.
“You can't talk about that! Do you know what could happen if people found out about that!? Jesus Christ!”
She stopped and let out a sigh of frustration.
“Henry, I know you're trying to help, but I think there's only one thing I can do about this.”
Henry's guilt was obvious, and Samantha felt a twinge of regret for the tone of her reaction.
“Yeah, I know,” he replied. “I just hope it works.”
During their previous conversation about returning to the house, there had been no mention of what they might do in the event their plan failed. Secretly, each had thought about it, but neither wanted to bring it up.
Samantha spent the day trying to stay awake and fought to remain focused during classes. It only took a couple of days of sleep deprivation for her short term memory to become compromised and by the time classes were done for the day, she was more than a bit foggy on the topics that had been presented. She did, however, manage to write down the homework assigned for each class. The only thing that came close to rest was lunch, and eating with both Henry and Melissa, her exhaustion led her to become distant. All Melissa knew was that she had been sick, and at Samantha's request, Henry refrained from telling her how she had likely been struck. She had begun participating in their investigations. However, Samantha didn't want her to worry. She would tell on Saturday after their next, and hopefully, last visit to the abandoned house.
That night, she got as much homework done as her exhausted mind would allow, and although she slept, her consciousness had been repeatedly disturbed by the memory of the unseen shadow that passed through her at the vacant ambulance station. Her dreams had also suffered the assault of anticipation, and waking during the night, Samantha wondered what might happen upon her return. And what if things got worse? She deeply feared the idea of losing her faculties to something she could only feel, seeing her senses permanently take leave.
Thursday found her in a similar state, and she considered staying home from school. Her mother, however, made it clear that she had missed enough time, and that she needed to tough it out. It was a response that Samantha did not want to hear, in spite of the fact that her mother was right. Again, she made the walk to school and again, Henry caught up to her, inquiring about how she was doing. The disturbances plaguing her sleep were quickly leading to increased irritability, lapses in judgement, and irrationality. She was also finding herself becoming slightly paranoid and would go out of her way to avoid talking to anyone. It wasn't like her to be hostile, or unkind to anyone, but in her condition, she continually felt on the edge of a violent outburst. However, when approached by Henry, Samantha tempered her frustration. The last thing she wanted was a repeat of the previous morning, when she snapped at him on the way to school. This time, there was something urgent she needed to talk to him about.
“Henry,” she began.
Her voice had begun to quiver and took on a tone of desperation with the very real fear of losing her mind.
“I can't do this anymore. I'm falling apart. We have to go back to that house.”
Remembering their previous conversations, Henry reminded her that they had agreed to return on Friday, the following evening. But Samantha was in the midst of a losing battle and didn't want to spend another day living on the edge of an impending mental collapse.
“Henry,” she said. “I don't think I can wait until tomorrow night. I'm fucking losing it. We have to go tonight! I'll go by myself if I have to.”
Henry didn't think it was good idea for Samantha to be there alone, and agreed to meet her behind the house that evening. But until he got there, she was not to go inside, and considering this would not be part of their investigation of the house, any equipment they used previously would be left behind. Only a flashlight would be needed.
Getting through school that day proved even more difficult than the day before, and feeling especially emotional, Samantha left one of her classes early. She was soon discovered by a security guard behind the school, crying uncontrollably. The guard escorted her to the nurse's office, and her mother was promptly called. Although unable to pick her up, her mother conveyed her concern and gave the nurse permission to allow Samantha to return home. Leaving school grounds, she found the walk home to be far longer than usual. When she arrived, she discovered a message on their answering machine. Her mother had called, asking that Samantha call her at work to make sure she got home safely. After hanging up, Samantha laid down on the living room couch, covered herself with her jacket and tried to relax enough to fall asleep. Too tired to give attention to the images that still flashed through her mind, she drifted into a light, yet troubled sleep. At some point, her drowsing mind found itself wandering through the vacant house she would visit later that evening. Standing in front of the door leading to the unfinished second floor, it flung itself open as a loud wind roared through, pushing back the muscles of her face. She bought her hands up in an attempt to resist it when it suddenly became mingled with the sound of a distant scream. Samantha began to cower near the foot of the stairs when something unseen rushed down and struck her in the chest, throwing her across the room and into the wall.
“Samantha? Wake up Sam!”
The dark drama of her sleep led her to become visibly agitated as a tear rolled down her face. Her mother, arriving home from work, woke her as she lay trembling on the couch. Her mother wanted to avoid shaking her, believing that given her degree of agitation, calling to her would be gentler. But startled awake, her skin broke into a sheen of sweat.
“Mom?” Samantha responded.
She sat up, and wiped the tears from her face as her mother sat on the couch next to her.
“What is it, Sam?”
As soon as Samantha was fully aware of her mother's presence she fell into hysterical tears. Her mother moved closer and wrapped her arms around her. Considering the nightmares she had been having, her mother reasonably assumed that not only were they continuing but escalating. She rocked her from side to side as Samantha began to relax, and remembering the report she'd received from the school nurse, reached the conclusion that it was time to seek professional help.
Samantha took a deep breath as her mother began rubbing her back. Trying to put on a show of strength, she backed away and attempted to reassure her mother that she would be fine.
“I'm okay, mom,” she said.
Her mother took her by both hands, and spoke to her in a firm, yet gentle tone.
“Sam, listen to me,” she began. “Whatever this is, it isn't getting any better. I think it's time we go and see someone. Maybe we can get you on a sedative, okay?”
Samantha's worse fear was coming true. Seeing a doctor meant going to a therapist, and she didn't like the idea of being seen as mentally ill.
“Mom,” she replied. “I can handle it. I just...”
With a concerned voice, her mother interrupted.
“Sam,” she said. “I don't know what this is, but I think it's time we found out, don't you?”
Samantha nodded in agreement as her mother leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead. Tomorrow would be Friday, and in spite of it being the last of classes before the weekend, her mother told her that she should not miss another day of school and to find another way to get through it until a doctor could be found. If all else failed, she could take her to the emergency room for an assessment.
She let Samantha nap quietly on the couch until dinner, and after consuming only a meager amount of food, excused herself and retreated to her room to begin her homework. But with a cloudy mind comes an inability to focus, and Samantha had lost the ability to understand the many words crowded onto each page. She needed a break, and recalled that she was supposed to meet Henry in the backyard of the condemned ambulance station. Walking downstairs, she saw her mother sitting on the couch, reading the paper.
“Sam,” she began. “Homework done already?”
Samantha went to the hallway closet, and retrieved her coat. It was mid-November, and many in Southern Maine had been forced to go from autumn wind breakers to winter-wear.
“Sam,” her mother continued.
Her voice displayed a sudden concern for what seemed like odd behavior, given the circumstances.
“Sam, where are you going?”
Samantha quickly threw her coat on, and zipped it up.
“Mom,” she replied. “I can't concentrate. I need to get some air.”
Her mother agreed that this seemed to be a good idea, but asked her not to go too far and to be back within thirty minutes. Maybe the chilly November air would clear her head, or at least, help her sleep.