Floor Four

FLOOR FOUR

  A Novella of

  Horror and the Supernatural

  A. LOPEZ, JR.

  ACE-HIL-INK

  FLOOR FOUR

  Copyright © 2013 by A. Lopez, Jr.

  Published by Ace-Hil-Ink 2013

  ISBN: 9781301173464

  All rights reserved. No parts of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or other forms) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner of this book, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication and or use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  For any questions about the book or author, please refer to our contact page at: www.ace-hil-ink.com

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1 - The Mangler

  Chapter 2 – R.S.V.P.

  Chapter 3 – New Beginnings

  Chapter 4 – Washing Dishes

  Chapter 5 – A Dark Alley

  Chapter 6 – Old Friends

  Chapter 7 – Reunion

  Author’s Note

  “Anyone who sees me must die!”

  ~ David Henry Coleman ~

  1

  THE MANGLER

  The rain continued to pound the top of Mary Tompkin’s car while she sat in the parking lot of her client’s restaurant. She was talking to her husband on the phone. She needed to finish this business dinner, and after that she would be done for the week and get to spend time at home, while enjoying a long three-day weekend. It wasn’t too late for a Thursday night, but she wanted to get this meeting over with as quickly as possible.

  Lightning flashed outside as she finished her call. Mary took a quick look up at the dark sky as the thunder from the lightning finally made its way to her. The thunder was loud and she could feel it vibrate in her chest. She grabbed her umbrella, opened the door, and the strong gusty wind hit her face. As she closed the door and pushed down on the alarm remote, she heard the sound of chains hitting the ground behind her. Before Mary could turn to see what it was, she felt a sharp, hot pain in her back. The pain was intense; her head shot back as she felt the middle of her back split open. A gust of wind and rain blew the umbrella from her shaking hand. She didn’t even have time to scream, her eyes closed as she died while still standing.

  The killer held Mary’s body upright, with his tool of choice, a razor-sharp farming sickle, still lodged in her back. He wrapped the heavy chain around her head and neck and pulled the sickle from her back. Her body slumped and the slack in the heavy chain tightened around her neck as she fell. He dragged her with the chain to a dark corner of the parking lot that opened into a vacant lot, and then down a ditch that disappeared into a small creek. Dark red blood from Mary’s body stained the path the killer had taken, but it was quickly washed away in the heavy rain.

  It was a perfect night to commit a murder—dark, rainy, and very few people out. Mary Tompkins was the eighth victim of serial killer, David Henry Coleman, also known as The Mangler. His murders were always very well planned and executed, and took place in different cities and states. Authorities were having a hard time tracking him. Coleman was a violent serial killer, much more violent than most. The FBI described his murders as angry outbursts, but Coleman was not sloppy, and he never left clues that would get him caught. He always left a calling-card though, making him the most feared serial killer in years. When Coleman killed his victims, he took the bodies to a place where they would be found the next day. His calling-card was the sickle. In each murder, the victim’s face was sliced and cut, beaten, and mangled beyond recognition. The sickle would be lodged in the chest, his trademark. It was determined that some of the victims were alive when he cut up their faces, some were already dead. Authorities had their murder weapon, but could never get anything from it. The Mangler was toying with them and knew exactly what he was doing.

  The Mangler’s murderous run had gone on for four years. He averaged about two killings a year, with his path taking him from the east coast, to the Midwest, and down south. Mary Tomkins lived in Florida. There was no way to tell when and where he would strike next, and this made it hard to pin him down.

  Police got their first break in August of 2002. They received a call from a resident in Liberty County, Texas. The resident told police that a suspicious man had been up and down their road at night a couple of times. This was a farming area and was generally not walked on by anyone but the few people who lived there. They sent out a patrol car with the officer treating it as a routine call, but everyone had the serial killer in the back of their minds at all times, especially the police. The patrolman didn’t find the man, or find anything out of the ordinary. A call went out to surrounding counties to be on alert in general, but most kept in mind that the serial killer was still out there somewhere.

  Coleman chose his victims at random, but planned their murders in a very precise way. There was no connection between the victims, no similarities. Half were men and half were women. They ranged from married people with kids to single, without kids. Those things, combined with him traveling from place to place to find his prey, left everyone on edge from the authorities to the public. They were all waiting for him to make an unlikely mistake. The break the police got began with a resident spotting a stranger dressed in black, wearing a black hat and long coat, walking the country road. Without making the communities anxious, law enforcement moved to a higher alert level.

  “David Henry Coleman planned his ninth murder in September of 2002, close to the Old River-Lost Lake area in Texas.” The old man began telling the story to the boys. “A very small, quiet community, Old River found itself in the middle of a major manhunt. Coleman chose the time just after dusk to make his way to the home of a Mark and Jean Ellis. They had just finished working outside around the house and were cleaning up for dinner when Coleman peered into their kitchen window. They didn’t see him, they were lucky; The Mangler had not planned out this murder like the rest. He was rushing it and it didn’t fall along the same time frame as the others. He felt the need to kill and murder again, maybe to get more notoriety than he had before. He wanted to be taken seriously.”

  The boys listened intensely.

  “He watched the older, married couple get things ready for dinner. His plan was to wait until Mark came back outside, as he usually did, and then use his sickle and chain to end his life. Coleman waited patiently. A sly smile came over his face as their dinner ended and Mark got up from the table and walked to the back door. Coleman moved into position in the shadows. Mark grabbed a water bucket from the back porch and headed towards the stalls. Coleman waited until Mark entered the stalls and then walked in his direction. Just as he was about to enter the stalls a truck came driving up the dirt road to the house. The sound of the truck brought Mark back outside just as Coleman was entering. Coleman had no choice but to strike down at Mark with the sickle as he entered the stall. Mark screamed out, shocked and surprised by the stranger. The blow from the sickle hit Mark on his left shoulder after he partially blocked it. The momentum of Coleman walking in and striking down on Mark pushed them into the doorway and inside the stalls just as the headlights from the truck shined on them. They fell to the ground; Mark struggled in pain as Coleman lifted the sickle out of his shoulder and prepared to strike down on him again. Mark shifted his
body enough to cause Coleman to barely miss, as the pointed end of the sickle slammed into the dirt floor. Dust rose around them in the struggle, the long chain clanged between them. Coleman was going to make one last attempt at killing his prey when he heard Jean’s screams behind him. He took one last swing down at Mark and hit him in the forearm. The sickle sliced halfway through. Coleman got up, grabbed his chain and ran towards the back of the small barn. The driver of the truck was a neighbor from down the road. He grabbed his shotgun from his truck and ran to where Jean was screaming. He made it just in time to see Coleman running to the back of the barn. He fired a shot and hit Coleman in the right leg. The shot knocked him forward, but he didn’t lose his footing, and was able to run out the back of the barn and into the surrounding woods. The bloody sickle, standing on its own, was still stabbed into the dirt floor with blood. Mark was the only victim to survive an attack by the serial killer. He was taken to a hospital as the manhunt began.”

  The three junior high boys, still curious and listening, looked at each other.

  Jake continued, “Two things worked in favor for the police you see; the suspect was shot and bleeding, and he had left his murder weapon behind without killing his victim. At this point they didn’t know if it was The Mangler or a copycat, but this man had to be found and arrested. The manhunt continued through the night, with police using helicopters and dogs. With dogs locked in on the scent, the trail seemed to head in this direction. Around four in the morning, police were called to a neighborhood here in Baytown. A resident spotted a suspicious-looking man walking through an alley. By the time police arrived, the man was gone. They decided to seal the area for four or five miles, and work their way in.”

  “Just as dawn broke, and the sun began to rise, another call came in to police just a short distance away from the original call. A resident was taking out his garbage when he saw a man sitting in a brushy, wooded area across the street. He couldn’t give a good description, but he thought of it as unusual. Again, when police arrived, he was gone, but this time, the dogs picked up a scent. The helicopters were called in, and the hounds barked and howled louder than you ever heard before. They felt that they were closing in on him. The wooded area led to another neighborhood just on the other side.” The old man was very dramatic in telling his stories.

  “This area had less people, and with daylight on their side, the police felt that they would find him as they approached from both directions. The hounds closed in on a garage next to a vacant house. After getting in place, they burst into the garage and found some bloody clothes and a mask that matched the description that Mark Ellis had given them earlier. The suspect was not in the garage, so they focused on the vacant house. Surrounding the house, they broke through the front and back doors at the same time,” he said with excitement building in his voice.

  “Police were shot at as gunfire erupted in a backroom. They had no choice but to fire back, hitting the suspect several times. They called an ambulance to try to save the man, who they suspected to be The Mangler. The ambulance crew stabilized him on the way to Saint Vincent Hospital,” the old man said, as he pointed across the main road, “right over there.” The boys looked over their shoulders at the vacant hospital.

  “After arriving, Coleman’s condition worsened, but not before he told a FBI agent that he was indeed, David Henry Coleman, The Mangler. He confessed to all the murders as two other agents looked on. Coleman’s expression was heartless, and one of a remorseless murderer.”

  “A day later and still in ICU, Coleman’s hand began to shake violently.” The old man paused here, looking at the ground in front of him. “The nurse walked over to him and he grabbed her arm quickly, just in reach of his handcuffed wrist, looked her in the eye and said, ‘I will be back, and I will return, and kill again and again. I will haunt this place forever!’ They say his eyes stayed open, staring at the nurse, until he died. She screamed and shook her arm away from his grip. The FBI rushed in, but The Mangler was already dead.” Jake paused, making the boys wait a little longer. “They say he walks the halls of the old hospital with his sickle and drags his chain. The anniversary of his death is coming up this week.”

  The old man paused again, and lit his cigar. “That’s the story of The Mangler.” Old Man Jake knew how to tell a story.

  The three, wide-eyed, thirteen-year-old kids, on their bikes, stared at Jake. Two of them, Doug and Kyle, heard stories from him before, but it never got old. The other boy, Brandon, was new in town. They brought him to Jake’s so he could hear the tale of The Mangler.

  Jake, an older black man in his sixties, lived in the neighborhood across the street from Saint Vincent Hospital, for thirty years. He knew the hospital in its hey-day, when it was the only hospital in town. He saw the demise, as the new times rolled in, and newer buildings were built, all in the name of business and opportunity.

  After hearing Jake tell them the story, the boys headed out on their bikes towards the hospital, but not without one last word from Jake. “Y’all be careful now,” he said, as he took one last puff from his cigar before smothering it under his shoe. The boys, way up the sidewalk by then, waved back as they sped off.

  “Best be careful,” Jake said quietly to himself, knowing how kids rarely listened to advice from adults.

  Built in the late 1940s, Saint Vincent Hospital, stood tall at five stories, overlooking that side of town. At the time it was built, it was a massive hospital, covering over 280,000 square feet. It stayed in business until 2004, when its ownership had completed the transition to a newer, more modern version of the hospital, built on the other side of town. Since the closure of the original hospital, there have been many reports of it being haunted. A private business used the building for a short period after its closure. Most of the reports of hauntings came from staff and late-night security guards. The old building was finally shut down in 2006 and sits on top of a small hill making it appear taller and bigger than it was. Set against the evening western sky, it is a dark and menacing site for those who believe the place is haunted. To keep trespassers out, the windows were boarded up, and a fence was put up along the edge of the property.

  Not too long ago, the property owners hired a contract company to do some minor, structural repair work on the lower level. Just as the three-week project was about to end, contract worker Ed Payton was found one morning, hung to death from an overhead rafter, a chain wrapped around his neck. There was no suicide note, or any reason in his personal life as to why he would hang himself, but the death was ruled a suicide anyway. His death sparked the rumors of The Mangler still haunting the building, especially since a chain was involved, one of his trademark tools. The thing that made his death peculiar was that there was no stool, no box, or no ladder for Ed Payton to climb up on to do it himself. He just hung freely, in his work clothes, his feet more than five feet from the ground. Rumors circulated that his face had a look of fear and terror, not the look of someone who wanted to kill himself. After the investigation was complete, more fencing was put up to secure the grounds around the old building. But during the summers, it was hard to keep junior high kids like, Doug, Kyle, and now Brandon, from finding ways in and exploring. High school kids were the bravest, and were always being run out of the area by police.

  David Henry Coleman died on the fourth floor in ICU—that floor is said to be most haunted. People have reported hearing chains rattling and the sound of scraping metal, possibly along the pipes and railings. Rumors can get exaggerated over time, but when a haunting is suspected, like that at the hospital, the reported sounds are much more believable. An assessment for structural integrity was required for the building once a year, and over that time only once have any of the people in that group reported something strange. A woman who was inspecting the fourth floor said she heard noises coming from near the old ICU hall. She walked further down the dark hall with her flashlight. About halfway down she said she heard the sound of a chain dragging on the floor, coming fro
m the next room up. That scared her enough for her to turn around and head back down to the first floor. She wouldn’t go back on the fourth floor, even after her coworkers went up there and found nothing. Not many dared to go up there after that.

  Doug and Kyle took Brandon over to the back of the hospital so he could get a good look at the scary side of it. Even in the day, the hospital took on an ominous look. The backside of the hospital is where all the kids would sneak in through a spot in the fence near the sidewall. Brandon stood, straddling his bike, with one foot on the ground. His eyes looked over the building from top to bottom. Doug and Kyle were riding their bikes around the fence line to the far corner. He quickly jumped up on his seat and peddled towards them. The lower portion of the back of the hospital resembled a huge patio. The covered area was extended to provide shade from the evening sun, making it a makeshift break and lunch area. A couple of the concrete tables and chairs were still there. They hid their bikes behind some overgrown shrubs and went in through their secret spot in the fence and walked towards the covered area.

  “You’re pretty brave Brandon. I never made it this far my first time,” Doug said.

  “Quit trying to scare him,” Kyle said. “It’s okay, nothing to be scared of,” Kyle said to Brandon, as they walked further in. The covered area was at least sixty feet wide and another forty feet from the edge of the cover to the back entrance. Despite the afternoon sun, the further they walked, the darker it got. They stopped a few feet from the entrance. The owners had the doors boarded with plywood and locked with chains.

  “Most people think you can’t get in, but we know a way. Want to go in?” Doug asked, as he looked at Brandon.

  Brandon was usually game for things like this, but he was a little nervous, and Doug was pushing him to go further. “Yeah, let’s go,” Brandon said. Kyle looked on. They had done this a few times before, and it was always fun to show someone the haunted hospital for the first time.

  Doug led them to a corner where the walls intersected and disappeared behind a piece of plywood. Brandon and Kyle waited for a moment before Doug reappeared smiling. “We can still get in.” Then he promptly disappeared again. They followed him behind the plywood and through an old rusty door that opened enough to allow them to pass through.

  The hall was dark and damp, accompanied by a wet, musty smell. Doug and Kyle turned on their flashlights. Graffiti lined the walls in various colors and styles. Some represented gangs, some professed their love, and others were just there in the form of street-art. They could hear water dripping at the end of the hallway, most likely caused from the rainstorm the day before.

  “Still looks the same as before. The fourth floor is where The Mangler died,” Doug said, looking at Brandon. “The only way to get up there is through the stairs down the hall.”

  He pointed the flashlight towards the stairwell. Brandon’s heart was beating fast with excitement, but leery now that they were inside. Shining their lights in all directions, they started walking towards the end of the hall. Old pieces of metal and pipes, detached wiring, and broken sheetrock filled the floor and forced them to walk in a weaving pattern as they closed in on the door to the stairwell. Despite Doug’s brave appearance, he stayed pretty close to the other two.

  Finally, they were at the door. “Here it is,” Doug said. He pushed the door, and surprisingly, it swung easily on its hinges. The metal door, covered with rust around its edges, came to a creaking stop. The stairwell was completely black. They stepped forward and shined their lights upwards. The lights shined on every wall and corner, casting eerie shadows in every direction.

  “You ready to go up?” Doug asked Kyle and Brandon, but secretly he was just as scared as them. They nodded okay without taking their eyes off the stairs above. Kyle held tight to his flashlight as Doug led the way. Brandon trailed Kyle as close as he could. Once they got to the second floor Doug paused. “Shhh, just checking to see if we can hear his chain dragging on the floor.”

  “Come on Doug, quit trying to scare him,” Kyle said, on Brandon’s behalf, but also reassuring himself.

  “There’s nothing to be scared of, until we get to the fourth floor anyway,” Doug said with a laugh.

  “Have you ever been to the fourth floor?” Brandon asked them.

  “No, not...” Kyle began to say, before being cut off by Doug.

  “Sure, many times. We’ve never seen The Mangler, but we know he’s there,” Doug said, trying to keep the tension up.

  A loud bang was heard from above, scaring them, and they quickly shined their lights up the stairwell. The sound of something falling down the stairs followed, until it stopped, and everything went dead silent. They continued looking up and noticed dust being stirred up by something above, it floated across their beams of light. Someone or something was up there. Doug tried to hide his fear and stepped up a couple of more steps. Kyle and Brandon looked at him, their feet locked into place, they had no intention of going any further.

  “Probably just a cat or something,” Doug said. He took another step up and craned his head at an awkward angle to see what had stirred the dust.

  “Maybe we should go Doug, it’s too dark,” Kyle said.

  “No, I want to see The Mangler,” Doug said in a deep haunting voice, trying to scare them.

  Just as he finished his sentence and began to laugh, the unmistakable sound of a chain being dragged down the stairs hit their ears and wiped the grin off of Doug’s face. Frozen in place, and listening intently, the boys heard the sound of the chain dropping slowly, one step after another. They looked at each other with the same look and at the same time, as if to say, Let’s get the hell out of here!

  Their flashlights no longer shined above, they didn’t want to see what was coming, but the dusty light that shined on their faces showed the fear that neither of them could hide any longer. The sound of the chain was getting louder, getting closer. Then, the high-pitched sound of metal grinding against metal, accompanied the sound of the chain. At the same time, all three boys turned and ran out the stairwell door, and straight to the door that they came in from. The sound of the metal grinding on the handrails of the stairway, in the boys’ minds, was that of The Mangler’s sharpened sickle. There were no words as they squeezed out the door; they were thinking the exact same thing. Get out!

  Brandon was the last one out. He couldn’t help but look down the hall to the stairway door. Just as he made his last push to slide out, he saw the stair door being pushed open. He screamed, turned away, and ran to his bike.

  Seniors in high school, Russell, Jesse, Craig, and Christy, had been friends since fifth grade. They did the normal high school parties and get-togethers, but for the most part stayed away from trouble. They hung out with other friends many times, but they kept their own little circle. One thing they did like to do for kicks was to sneak into the old hospital. They had done it three or four times, but never went deep into the upper floors. They loved testing the rumors of the haunting by wandering around the first floor, and most recently, going to the spot where the worker was hung. Russell and Jesse were teammates on the varsity football team and kept their options open on the dating scene. Craig and Christy were dating and looked forward to going to college together.

  With the anniversary of the The Mangler’s death coming up over the weekend, they had plans to throw a private party on the fourth floor with some friends. None of them had ever been to the fourth floor, but figured, as a group, that it would be fun and adventurous, and a lot safer than going alone. Russell and Jesse were letting only a handful of close friends know of the party. They didn’t want to have too many people there, or for anyone to find out, especially the police. Their plan was to have a keg of beer, some precooked food, and music to make it all fun. They also planned on having a few flashlights and candles to make sure there was plenty of light. With Russell, Jesse, Craig, and a couple of other guys, along with the girls, they wouldn’t have any trouble getting all of their party dé
cor up there on one trip. It was Friday afternoon and their plans were going well. Keeping it a secret was a must.

  Jake loved telling the story of the serial killer to the kids that stopped by. He did it to try to scare the kids enough that they would stay away from the old hospital, but he knew that the killer’s ghost haunted the building on the anniversary of his death. He knew that kids were sneaking in and out of there at different times, he couldn’t stop that, but he would make sure they couldn’t get in on the day of the anniversary. Since Jake lived in the neighborhood across from the hospital, he always took a walk to the park that was next to a creek. The walks helped him free his mind of his wife, who passed away three short years ago. His favorite spot at the park was the gazebo. The octagonal-shaped structure was set out over the water, about thirty feet from land. A nice cool breeze usually accompanied anyone who stood or sat there. Jake always enjoyed watching the kids play basketball on the concrete courts, or the sounds of the younger kids playing on the playground. This was his place to get away from it all, at least for a short time. He hadn’t taken his normal walks in the last few days because of the thunderstorms that recently hit the area. Jake never told the kids, or anyone he told the stories to, that he was the one who called police when he spotted Coleman in the alley that day. He had a personal attachment to the murderer, but saw no reason to tell anyone about it. Jake had never been visited by the ghost of Coleman at home, so his thought was, it only existed inside the walls of the hospital. After all, he was the one who called police and got him shot. Jake figured if there was anyone he was going to haunt and seek out for revenge, it would be him. The anniversary of that day was coming Saturday, and he planned to do his usual walk for that, which was walking along the fence of the old building and checking to make sure that the door the kids used to get in was locked down. This was Jake’s ritual.

  Saturday morning brought a sunny sky that put Russell in a good mood. He was looking forward to the party, and also looking forward to having a little scary fun with some of the party-goers. He and Jesse needed to sneak into the hospital before the party to set up some pranks to scare everyone.

  What harm could it do?, he thought. It would all be in good-natured fun.

  Doug woke up Saturday morning and rode his bike the short distance to Kyle’s house. Kyle was still getting out of bed.

  “Why are you up so early?” Kyle asked, as Doug sat down at the computer desk in Kyle’s room.

  “Guess what I heard? Russell and some of the other guys are planning a party for tonight,” Doug said with excitement in his eyes.

  “So? They always have parties on the weekends. What’s the difference?”

  “The difference is that the party they're having will be at the old hospital, on the fourth floor.”

  Doug waited and watched Kyle to see his reaction.

  “Are you serious? They plan on having it there?” Kyle looked surprised, but with a little gleam in his eye.

  “Yes, I heard my sister talking on the phone about it. It starts at ten tonight. I think we should go around ten-thirty and sneak in,” Doug said proudly.

  “I don’t know Doug. How will we be able to stay out that late with our parents expecting us in by then?”

  “Simple.” Doug already had a plan. “We say we are spending the night at Brandon’s, and he says he is staying at one of our houses.” Doug smiled again. Proud of his plan.

  “I don’t know if that will work. Did you ask Brandon?”

  “No, but I will this morning.”

  “What about all those noises we heard when we were there? You were just as scared as us,” Kyle said.

  “Come on. Do you want to do it or not? Russell and the rest will be there anyway. Nothing to be scared of, right?” said Doug, doing his best to convince Kyle.

  “Okay, if you can get Brandon to go along, I’ll go.”

  Kyle hid his excitement, but if Doug could make it work, then he knew it would be a fun night. The only question was . . . what was making those noises in the stairs the last time?

  The party was going to start at ten, so Russell and Jesse planned to meet at the hospital just after dark to take some things inside, set up for the party, and maybe plan a few pranks. The day darkened earlier than usual because of a thunderstorm in the afternoon that left the skies cloudy and overcast the rest of the day.

  Russell and Jesse arrived at the back entrance to the hospital in Jesse’s truck. The truck bed was filled with a few chairs, a table, and a small sound system for the music.

  “We’ll have to take this stuff in two loads. The truck should be okay parked here,” Russell said.

  The faded, dark blue paint on the truck blended in well against the dark bushes.

  “Yeah, we just need to be quick,” said Jesse. He was excited about the party, and the possibility of having some fun with the rest of the group that night.

  They grabbed the chairs and the table first. As they made their way to the hidden spot where they always entered, they noticed the door was open. They always shut the door completely when they left. This meant that someone was inside, or that someone had been there recently. They pushed through with more caution than usual. Russell carried the four chairs, two in each hand. Jesse held the plastic table at his side as they moved along the first room towards the stairway. Both boys carried flashlights, but Jesse, holding his light out with his freehand, led the way. After a bit of a struggle they were standing at the stairwell door. The old door was also open, when it was usually closed, they looked at each other, but then laughed it off. They were scaring themselves before they could even pull the pranks on their friends.

  Jesse went in first and shined his light along the stairs as they walked one step at a time to the next floor. Their shoes slid against the dust and grit that had built up on the steps over the years. The crunching of debris under their steps awakened the dead-quiet stairwell. The boys tried to break up the awkward verbal silence by joking about the upcoming night.

  As they got to the third floor Jesse stopped suddenly. Russell bumped into him.

  “What happened? What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. I thought I heard something.”

  “Come on. Now you’re sounding like a scared pussy. Keep going,” Russell said. Unaware that something was stirring above them on the steps leading up to the fourth floor, he nudged at Jesse’s back to move him forward.

  “Listen! Can’t you hear it?” asked Jesse. His heart was beating fast. His eyes focused on where his light was shining above. Russell also looked, but neither could see anything. There was dead silence for a moment. Then, the sound could be heard again, the unmistakable sound of a chain dragging the floor. Russell didn’t want to show his fear, but his heart was beating as fast as Jesse’s. Russell set the chairs down and grabbed his flashlight. He shined it alongside Jesse’s light. They could only see dust particles floating around and the rails that led to the fourth floor. The sound of chains grew louder, coming closer. The boys were frozen, but Russell found some bravado, despite his fear.

  “Who’s there?!” he demanded. “You better show yourself or we’ll kick your ass!” The sound of the chains dragging the floor stopped one flight of stairs above them.

  More silence.

  The clanging of the chains began again. The source behind the sound was about to show itself. The boys wanted to run, their minds told them they had to run, but they couldn’t. Their hands shook, causing the beams of light to dance around the walls like strobe lights at a party. Only, their party hadn’t started yet.

  Or had it?

  “I said who’s there?” Russell asked once more. His voice was not as demanding as before, and the sound of his voice, along with the uncontrolled shaking of his hand, showed his fear. The unknown scared him shitless, but his determination, and stubbornness, kept him still. He had to see what was there.

  Then, there it was, the chain dangling around the turn for the next flight of stairs. Holding the
chain was a hand, followed by a man. The flashlights beamed through the specks of dust and simultaneously, both the lights were directed at the face of the man carrying the chains.

  They recognized the face to their shock and relief.

  “You boys better quit messing around in here.” It was old man Jake. He was carrying a good-sized link of chain. “It’s too dangerous in here to be playing around.” Jake stopped and shined his own light down the stairway at the boys. They stood in silence. “What are you boys planning? What’s all that for?”

  Russell spoke, “We were just gonna have a party up here tonight. It won’t hurt nothin’.” His nervousness all but stopped once he realized it was only Jake. Everyone knew Jake from his stories about The Mangler. Russell’s bravery showed itself again.

  “That’s not a good idea. The floors upstairs aren’t good. You boys leave this chain lying around?” Jake lifted the chain. It looked new and not like it had been there for some time. Jake began walking down towards them. “Get that light out of my face, and you boys best be heading home.” He walked past them as they moved out of his way.

  Russell and Jesse didn’t know how to respond. Even at his age, Jake could be intimidating when he wanted. Jake took one more step past them and turned around. “This building is old. Listen to what I tell you.” He turned and walked down the stairs towards the second floor. The seriousness of what Jake said settled in the their minds for a moment as they heard him work his way down.

  They looked at each other. Russell didn’t show concern, but Jesse had his confidence shaken. “I don’t care what he said. We’re still having this party. He just came down from the fourth floor and nothing happened. Everything will be fine,” Russell said.

  “I know what you’re saying, it’s just kinda weird. What was he doing in here anyway?” Jesse asked. His question was a good one. One that Russell couldn’t answer.

  “I don’t know. Maybe he has a thing for old buildings. Who knows? All I know is that we’re having this party no matter what,” Russell said, as he turned off his flashlight and grabbed the chairs. He started moving up to the fourth floor as Jesse, his flashlight still in hand, reluctantly followed him.

  Jesse’s head rang again with the question,

  What was Jake doing in here?

  Known to the neighborhood kids as, Old Man Jake, The Ghost Storyteller, Jake had a secret, and special attachment to The Mangler and the old hospital. No one he told the stories to, mostly kids, knew that he worked at the hospital for a short time. He had a part-time job there doing odd jobs and delivering the inner-office mail throughout the hospital. On the day after David Henry Coleman was brought in, Jake was working. Jake was working on the fourth floor, but was not allowed in the ICU area unless he was taking mail or documents that needed to be delivered or signed.

  He had to walk by Coleman’s room to get to the nurses’ station that day. As he walked by he glanced at the two FBI agents. They stood at the doorway in the typical law enforcement style, looking straight ahead, hands crossed in front. The FBI agents wore dark shades, even though they were indoors. After dropping the paperwork at the nurse’s station, Jake made his way back down the hall. As he got close to Coleman’s room he took a look in. Coleman’s eyes were closed, wires and tubes attached all over his body. Just as he was about to take his eyes off of Coleman and nod to the officers, David Henry Coleman opened his eyes quickly and stared directly at Jake, as if he knew he was walking by. The stare was so intense and frightening that Jake unknowingly paused. Coleman raised his cuffed hand as far as he could and pointed at Jake. His eyes grew more intense and his hand began to shake. Jake felt like he was saying, I’ll get you! Jake broke Coleman's trance and quickly walked away. Just down the hall he heard a nurse scream and a computerized voice spoke over the speakers indicating that a patient was coding.

  Jake learned soon after, that Coleman had died. That one moment that Jake had with the serial killer, no matter how brief, along with him making the call to police, would haunt him and connect the two men years after. This was the secret that Jake kept inside. This was why he walked the hospital after it was shutdown. He needed to face his fears and not let Coleman take his mind. The experience he had that day scared Jake. He felt he was exercising the demon every time he walked on the fourth floor of the old hospital—a walk he took once a month. He knew that it would be haunted on the anniversary of The Mangler’s death. He had seen Coleman five times; each time they stood at opposite ends of the hall. Only, it wasn’t Coleman anymore; it was The Mangler who stood there, chain in one hand, sickle in the other. He would stand and laugh out loud down the hall, as if he knew something no one else knew. The first time Jake saw him, he was paralyzed by the same fear that had grabbed him years earlier. He knew it wasn’t someone playing around trying to scare him, because each time the killer laughed, he would stop suddenly and point his finger at Jake like he did before. Then as he gave him that same demonic stare, The Mangler would slowly fade away into the darkness like magic . . . dark magic. It was a secret Jake planned to take to his grave. He didn’t mind telling the stories to the kids, he knew they were safe, even if they got curious and ventured in the old hospital. But he made sure no one could get in on the anniversary of his death. He felt that he protected the people and the place, as long as he was able to confront the monster in the hall, and until it disappeared into the mist, like it always did. He knew that sometimes the stories would make the kids more curious, and want to find answers, but he really wanted to scare them enough to keep them away.

  He held some type of power over Coleman. The power kept the killer in the spirit world. The only time Jake failed to make the anniversary walk was the week the construction worker was killed, or as police say, committed suicide. Now that he knew the kids were planning to have a party there, he had to make sure they could not get in through that door.

  Despite Jake’s warning, Russell and Jesse continued up to the fourth floor and set up the tables and chairs. They figured that if Old Man Jake was able to walk alone on the fourth floor, they surely would be safe with a lot of people up there later. After they finished with the things they had, they left and made phone calls to everyone who was invited. They let the select few know that the party was still on.