The Ouija Session, Page 3

  I prayed that the situation would not be extended much longer. My whole body was in tension. Any small stimulus could end up deranging me and cause me a panic attack. I felt nauseous, I thought my head was spinning and I would fall fainted at any time... Although it might sound ridiculous, I felt like crying, escaping and running to take refuge in my mother’s arms, where I was sure that nothing bad could happen to me. I didn’t do any of that. I tried to breathe quietly, I lifted my head and kept walking behind Jake, not knowing if I wanted to find the murderer of Anne and Bobby or if I preferred to fail on our mission.

  We heard a noise on our left, a few steps ahead. I interpreted it immediately as the sound of something moving in the water, of someone fighting for his life while another person was trying to drown him. Just listening to him, Jake started running towards there. I tried to follow him, but Jim had been paralyzed and kept grabbing strongly by the belt, so for a few seconds, I moved like the cartoons trying to start running without moving from the place. When Jim reacted and let me go, the impulse made me fall forward. Fortunately, I had the necessary reflexes to put my hands and not leave all my teeth on that path.

  “Jim...” I whispered from the ground. “You almost killed me.”

  “Sorry... I didn’t notice.”

  “Help me up.”

  Jim held out his hand and, as I grabbed him, I was about to drop a shout of pain. I had skinned my palms completely and had things stuck. Could be stones or splinters or thorns from a plant. With that light and the blood that covered my hands, I could not see it well and, besides, we could not stop to look. Jake had vanished from our sight. Without any further thought, I ignored the pain and followed the path. The sound of Jim’s footsteps behind me confirmed to me that he had already reacted and behaved in a normal way. I was so glad for that. If the person who had caused the noise was the murderer we were looking for, we were going to need all the help we could.

  We heard more noises ahead of us. More splashes, as if someone came out of the water running, and Jake’s footsteps and shouts. We ran as far as we could to get out of the forest and reach the shore. As soon as we left the trees behind, the moonlight allowed us to see something else. A huge shadow ran down the shore of the lake, heading South. We could only see him for a few seconds and he was back to us, so we were unable to distinguish any detail. It was only the shadow of a rather large and strong man in dark clothes.

  Jake’s screams made us divert our gaze. He was tucked into the lake up to his waist and pulled hard from a lump while ordering us to help him. I stood a moment standing on the shore, looking back and forth, not knowing what to do. Jake needed help to save his brother, but if we went to him, that man would run away. A new shout from Jake made me decide. I ran to him, jumped into the water with Jim by my side and helped him drag his brother’s inert body.

  When we got him out, we turned him around. Jim gave a shrill, frightened cry, like the one a little girl would emit. I was speechless before those eyes that seemed to express surprise, before those ajar lips... Jake leaned towards him and put his ear next to his brother’s mouth, trying to find out if he was still breathing. Seeing those similar faces, one being alive, the other one dead, made me think that the universe had finally realized its mistake and had amended it. There were no duplicates. There was only one left, as it always should have been.

  That stupid thought made me react. I jumped out of the ground and put my hand on Jim’s shoulder to get his attention and that he would listen to me.

  “I’m going to try to reach that man. Stay with Jake and help him.”

  “Don’t leave us here,” Jake said, looking away from his brother to stare at me with his terrified eyes. “We have to save Dave.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll go to someone’s house to get an ambulance.”

  Without waiting any longer, I ran down the shore of the lake, trying to reach that shadow we had seen. There was no sign of it anymore. He must have gone into the path to take refuge among the trees. Without a moment’s thought, I also ran there. The darkness wrapped me completely. I stood still, waiting for my eyes to get used to the lack of light, as I tried to perceive any sound that could tell me that the man was near: the echo of his footsteps, the creaking of some branch, his altered breathing as he watched me hidden... Those thoughts accelerated my heart. It was beating so hard that it seemed it wanted to leave me alone and run away from this madness.

  I ran to the path’s exit. It was stupid to think that the murderer could be hidden, waiting for me. I’m sure he had already reached the road and had escaped. If I did not reach him, he would forever be a shadow, a dark ghost, a specter that would populate my nightmares with his long claws and red eyes, a savage predator who would continue to take the children of Swanton, one after another... I couldn’t allow that. I had to catch him, even if I was just a 12-year-old kid with no chance against a bloodthirsty murderer. That’s not what I was worried about at the time. I just wanted to take him and avenge Dave, Bobby and Anne. Especially Anne...

  I heard a sound further ahead that again froze my breath, something like the deaf roar of a stalking beast. I felt ridiculous when I realized that it was just the sound of an engine to start. I tried to run even faster. It could be the murderer’s car. He was escaping. No matter the fatigue or the feeling of drowning, I forced my body to run at full speed to get out of the forest. The trees were spaced a few steps later, showing the road leading to Swanton.

  When I got there, I could only see a dark car moving back to the village. I knew it was him. Only someone who doesn’t want to be seen drives with all the lights off after sunset. I couldn’t make out his license plate, not even his color. His car was also a shadow that escaped me. I threw a roar of wrath that caused to flee the flock of birds that had taken refuge in a tree nearby to spend the night. For a few moments, they rode the sky circling over me, like black omens that would stalk me.

  I followed the road to the South, to the residential homes area. I ran and ran, though it seemed to me that I had long spent all my energies. As soon as I got to the first house, I leaned on the fence, trying to catch my breath. A huge German shepherd started barking at me, trying to pounce on me. I jumped back, but I relaxed to see that he was tied to his hut by a thick chain and did not reach the fence.

  The dog’s barks alerted the occupants of the house. The porch light switched on and an old man dressed in Bermuda shorts with stripes and a horrible shirt with Hawaiian print opened the door. When he saw me and realized that I was just a kid, his grin was softened.

  “Shut up, Brownie,” he yelled at the dog. “What do you want, kid?”

  “You have to help me. I need to call the police.”

  The man didn’t think about it. He hurried to open the gate and guided me to his house, putting an arm on my shoulders. That sample of familiarity served to appease the wrath of his dog, who stopped barking and lay down resting his head on the front legs, watching us pass with adorable puppy face.

  At the door of the house waited for us a white-haired old woman wearing a flowery robe. She turned away to let us in and pointed to the phone, resting on a crochet doily on a side table. The two of them waited, while I transmitted the information to a fairly efficient operator. When I hung up the phone, I realized I’d smeared it all in blood. I tried to apologize, showing them the bloody palms of my hands.

  In spite of the protests of the woman, who wanted to cure my hands and that we stayed at home safe, the man took down a shotgun that he had placed on the chimney and guided me to the exit.

  “Come on, boy. I’ll go with you. May God want that we can still do something for your friend.”

  Before leaving his property, the man stopped in front of a shed. He rummaged inside for a few seconds, making so much noise that I feared it’d fall apart, and came out with a powerful flashlight.

  We headed as fast as we could towards the road that led to the lake. The old man, in spite of his slender legs and his stooped back, was advancing at good spee
d. When we reached the path, he lit the lantern, frightening the shadows of the night. With that light and the company of the old man armed by my side, the road became much shorter. In a few minutes, I heard the sound of grieving mourners. We opened our way through the trees and went out to the edge of the lake.

  Jim was sitting on the floor with his legs crossed, as motionless as a statue. At his side Jake wept, leaning over his brother’s breast. The old man approached and, very gently, touched Jake on the shoulder for him to move away. He raised his head and leaned back, sitting on the shore. The old man tried to find Dave’s vitals, but after a few seconds, he straightened up, shook his head and, without a word, he took off his Hawaiian shirt and covered with it the body without life.

  Jake started screaming, pulling his hair and scratching his face as if he had lost his reason. Jim and I approached to him and tried to grab him, so he wouldn’t hurt himself, but he was rolling over like he was possessed, trying to get to his brother.

  I don’t know how much time we spent fighting him until we heard the first sirens and the races of people approaching us through the forest. I only know that it seemed the longest time of my life, that I felt tired and wanting to die, that Jake’s anguish seemed to invade us like a contagious virus and that I just wanted to disconnect my brain and stop thinking, remembering and feeling. And I also know that, above all those thoughts and feelings, I was hovering one that was never going to leave me: guilt.

  Burlington/Swanton, August 2016

  I

  When I come home from work, I find the whole family sitting at the table. Strangely, we get together. Although my mother would love to celebrate these family dinners with everyone together talking friendly about what has happened to us throughout the day, the truth is that most nights each one dines whatever we can at the time that suits each one well. It’s how the world is today. We’re all too busy to behave like the families that appear on TV.

  My mother tells me my place and, without asking me whether I want it or not, she fills my plate to the top with beef steak with fries. I sit and accept the dish without protesting, although I am sure I will be unable to eat all this.

  “You’re back late today,” says my mother, “Has anything happened at the bookstore?”

  “No, it’s just that I had to stay and talk about a matter with Mr. Rutherford after closing.”

  “How mysterious! On what subject?”

  “I’ve asked him fifteen days of vacation.”

  “And that?” I thought this year you wouldn’t take vacations, and your boss would pay you overtime.”

  “Yes, that’s what we talked about earlier this year, but I need that vacation.”

  “Well, the young master is very tired, so much to squander the money that is so lacking for the family to take a vacation.”My father comes in between mouthful and mouthful.“Can you tell what paradise place you’re going to go to? To Hawaii? To Bali?”

  I stand still, with the fork halfway out of my mouth, gazing at him bewildered. I can’t believe it’s just him who reproaches me the money I can spend or not. My mother and I have been supporting this family for years and we have never complained about it.

  “I’m going to Swanton,” I said without further ado.

  He stares at me with his mouth ajar, as if he had not understood me. Little by little the idea is going down in his mind. He leaves the fork on the plate and gives a heavy blow to the table, which makes everyone else jump, scared in our chairs.

  “And can we know what you have lost in Swanton? Why the hell do you have to go there?”

  “Well, I have childhood friends and lots of nice memories of that place. I don’t think it’s so strange to want to go back.”

  “What do you mean you don’t? That place was about to drive you crazy. If we moved into this shitty city, it was just to get away from Swanton and try to save you.”

  “Well, all of that happened many years ago. I’m not going to go crazy for going there for 15 days.”

  “You better...” My father keeps looking at me angrily as he denies again and again with his head. “Do you know how many sacrifices your mother and I had to make for you after you got out of Swanton? Do you know how much money we had to spend on psychologists and psychiatrists to get you back?”

  “I know, you’ve told me a thousand times.” I stop him, furious. “As you have suggested a thousand times that we came to this city for me and that somehow I am the culprit that you had the accident at the factory and that since then you are a cripple.”

  “Don’t talk to your father like that!” My mother orders me, giving a blow at the table, too.

  “And how do you want me to talk to him? I’m sick of having to thank you for what you did for me in the past. I didn’t ask you! And I’m sick of you blaming me for what happened to dad and that it’s supposed to be, in return, who has to be pulling this family. I’m not going to support you all my life.”

  “What do you mean, support us?” protests Lissie with her shrill voice. “I work too.”

  “Fifteen days every three months? Do you think you pay anything with that? Your child eats in a month more than you earn all year.”

  “Hey, I didn’t mess with you,” Brad’s mouth is full of stew.

  Everything is so surreal that I want to leave once and never come back. I leave the stew without even trying it and I get up from the table. I rush upstairs and lock myself in my room. While I’m sitting on the bed, grabbing my head with both hands to calm down, I hear the shouts of my family. It looks like they have made a good fuss. That’s another reason why we don’t usually dine together. Normally, for one or the other, all conversations end like this. Although from the outside we can look like a typical and happy American family, we all have too many things to reprobate to each other.

  After a while, I hear a door slam and the house is silent. I guess my father must have got tired of arguing and decided to go and take refuge in the bar. Without thinking about it, I decide to leave tonight. I pull a backpack out of my closet, I put init a pair of jeans, three T-shirts, some underwear and some spare slippers. I’m still thinking if I leave anything out when I hear a couple of shy knocks on my bedroom door. Without waiting for me to answer, the door opens, and my mother pokes her head.

  “May I come in?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  I sit in the bed and give a couple of taps on the mattress to tell her to sit next to me. She obeys, she sits very close to me and supports her head on my shoulder.

  “Is there anything I can tell you to stay?”

  “No, there’s nothing.”Though I’m still angry, I try to contain myself. She is the only person in the world who has never given me reason to treat her badly. “I don’t understand why you got like that. I’m just going to Swanton. Nothing bad is going to happen to me.”

  “Understand that we worry. You had it so bad with the deaths of your friends... There were times when we thought you’d never be the same again.”

  “I understand, but I’m no longer the child that I was back then. I’ll be fine.” I turn to her and throw a soothing smile at her. “I am very sorry for the difficult moments I put you through and for making you change your whole life because of me, but you cannot keep making me responsible for it.”

  “No one does, Eric. Everything we did in the past for you, we did it because we loved you. I do not regret any of the decisions that we make... and I know that your father does not either. We are just worrying for you still.”

  “I appreciate it, but nothing will happen. There have been no more crimes since then. It will only be a quiet holiday in the village of my childhood. It has nothing to do with what happened.”

  I’m lying in such a blatant way that I’m afraid she’ll notice. Besides, I feel guilty. My mother is here, consoling me and opening her heart to me, and I’m lying to her face. It looks like she doesn’t notice. She gets up from the bed, she puts herself in front of me and stirs my bangs, like she did when I was a kid. The gesture
pierces me completely and I have to stare at my toes as if they were the most interesting thing I’ve seen in my life.

  “Take good care of yourself and call every day.”She sticks her hand in her pocket and pulls out a wad of bills. “Take. I was saving it for a new washing machine, but I think it’ll suit you better.”

  I deny with my head, but she takes one of my hands, stamps the bills on it and closes my fist without letting me argue. Then she leans towards me and kisses me on the cheek.

  “I’m going to fix you something to eat for the trip. I’ll leave it in the kitchen.”

  Without saying anything else, she leaves the room. I want to cry like a little boy. I regret that I lied to her and I feel sorry that she may be worried about me while I’m gone. For a few seconds, I feel like telling her the truth, talk about the book, about poor Joan, about my dreams... I think she’s the only person in this world who could understand and help me, but if I tell her, she’ll lock me in my room for life. I cannot confess that I am going to Swanton to play Russian roulette with my mental health. She can’t understand me and support me. Also, although I’m starting to think that this trip is crazy and that I should listen to my family, I can’t back down. I have to go to Swanton. It’s important, even if no one else can understand.

  I finish preparing the backpack. I put the money, the phone charger, a couple of books... When I’m sure I have everything, I sit back on the bed and look on the phone when the next bus leaves for Swanton.

  I can’t believe it. There’s only one bus a day, six-thirty in the morning. That bus makes a tour of about fifty minutes and leaves you in a remote and secluded place called Georgia Park, where you have to wait eight hours until the bus to Swanton arrives. It almost seems like a joke, as if the whole universe was conspiring to make me change my mind and forget the idea of getting there.

  Just to try, I look at Google Maps how long it would take to get there by bike. It’s only thirty-seven miles. I could be in Swanton in about four hours. Without hesitating one more second, I throw the backpack on my shoulder and go down the stairs. If I stay home tonight, I know I’ll think about it better and I’m not moving from here.