Scene Fourteen

Sunrise once more. What a night. The remnants of the nightmare linger in my groggy mind.

9:43 AM

I scramble into my clothes and make for the kitchen. I've gotta tell Doug before I forget the details. It felt so real.

"No," I mutter, bounding down the staircase. "It was more than just a dream."

Smoky, bacon-scented tendrils drag me into the kitchen.

Jake: "Morning, sunshine!"

I eye up the huge aluminum tins: eggs, bacon, hash browns, and biscuits. "Hey."

Doug's scouring over his notes. "You okay? You look a little green around the gills."

I take a paper plate and fill it up. "We should talk."

Doug: "'Bout what?"

I set my breakfast on the small table in the nook and slide in opposite of Dougie. "I had a vision – nightmare, whatever."

Jake: "Dreams and visions are slightly different, amigo."

I fork in some eggs. "Then, this was a vision."

Doug: "Go on."

The dynamic duo hangs on my every word as I recount the horrors of my mind's eye.

Jake rubs the rust-colored patch of hair around his mouth. "Christ, Sean."

Doug: "You're sure it was a child?"

I nod.

Doug: "It wasn't in some cave somewhere?"

I take a hit from my glass of O.J. "It was definitely underground catacombs and manmade. Bricks, Doug. You won't find those in a cave will you?"

Doug: "I suppose not."

Jake rests his head on both hands. "What's our move?"

Dougie downs the last of his bean juice and goes for his jacket draped over a nearby stool. "I think we should explore the grounds a lot more."

Jake slides into his fleece vest. "Stables?"

Doug: "I'm thinking the same thing. If nothing comes from that, then we should go back into--"

Jake: "Oh, no. Hell, no."

Doug: "We have to, man."

The big cameraman shutters. "No way am I goin' back into that little house of horrors, dude."

Doug: "What if a way into the catacombs is in the basement of the Servant's Quarters?"

Jake: "You go in, then."

I look around for the others. "Where are the Bensons and Emily?"

Jake stuffs a flashlight into his hip pocket. "Doc went into town for some things. Em's out doing some research."

"Oh." I pull on my jacket and follow them out the back door.

Jake: "Disappointed, stud?"

Doug chuckles as he bounds down off the back stoop.

Jake: "I think she's got the hots for you, Sean."

"Whatever, Jake." I wade down the trail through the high grass.

Jake: "No, man. I've heard how she and that other chick talk. The things she says when you're not around. (He whistles)

Doug stops short of the main double doors to the two-level stables. "All right. Let's focus, fellas."

He and Jake pull the tall doors apart. A wave of acrid decay.

Jake: "Ah, man! That's foul."

Doug buries his nose in the crook of his elbow. "Who knows when the last time this place was opened."

Along the back wall, a row of hooks shimmers in the daylight. Several of them have old leather whips coiled around them. Others rust in solitude.

Jake: "Check that out."

He wanders over into the shadows to my right. A light click and then his cone of light washed over his find.

Jake: "How old do you think they are?"

I walk up to the tattered carriages and their strewn wheel assemblies. "Dunno."

Jake kneels down next to the footrest on the carriage and shines his light on a small plate. "Ferd F. French & Company. Boston, Massachusetts. 1896."

Doug: "Wow. That's unreal."

His camera flashes capture the living history in its current state of disarray.

Jake rises and strides around the structure. "Em would love this stuff. She's really into Victorian era shit."

Dougie's feet pad off into the shadows in the corner on the opposite wall. "No kidding? Hey, guys. Come check this out."

Jake and I scramble to his bent form in the front corner. The beam of his light sweeps over the cracks in the floorboards.

Doug: "See that?" (His light shines down a deep hole)

Jake and I exchange glances.

Jake: "Think we should break out the spelunking gear?"

Doug's black beanie shakes back and forth. "Not yet. It could be from wildlife." He snaps a few photos. "It's worth noting for now, though."

Jake looks up the rotten ladder as we head back out. "Think we should investigate upstairs?"

Doug rests his left foot on the bottom rung, which immediately snaps. "Uh, guess we'd better not."

I help Jake roll the doors closed and he lowers the long piece of wood to lock it. We follow Doug around the front corner of the whitewashed structure.

Jake: "Well, I guess that's – uhgh!"

We both crumple over either of Doug's outstretched arms.

Jake: "What the hell, Doug?"

Doug shushes us. He lifts an index finger in a slow swath toward the rows of decaying trees in the orchard. "See her?"

Jake squints into the rising sun.

I cover my eyes with a hand. As plain as day, she appears among the trunks. A woman drifts behind one tree and through another.

Jake: "I got her, I got her."

Doug: "Keep quiet and follow me."