The Ghosts of Miller's Crossing Read online

  THE GHOSTS of Miller’s Crossing

  David Clark

  The Ghosts of Miller’s Crossing © 2019 by David Clark. All Rights Reserved.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  Cover designed by Milan Jovanovic

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  David Clark

  Visit my website at www.facebook.com/davidclarkhorror

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Printing: Aug 2019

  Frightening Future Publishing

  ISBN-13 9781096895640

  This book is dedicated to my buddy, my friend, my dog Chip. He was always there to listen to me, no matter what I was talking about and never complained. Instead he gave unconditional love. Your loss has affected me more than I ever expected, but your life has enriched mine in ways I will never be able to explain. I will never forget you.

  CONTENTS

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  36

  37

  What Did You Think of THe GHOSTS of MILLER’S CROSSING?

  Coming Soon

  About the Author

  Other Works

  1

  “This room needs some color,” Edward Meyer said. The old leak stains on the white drop ceiling and scuffs on the floor were the only signs of character. The simple plastic white chair Edward sat on resembled one you might find on an outdoor patio. This was in contrast to the stainless-steel table bolted to the floor and the large two-way mirror on the wall in front of him.

  He mumbled with a chuckle, “Looks slightly institutional to me,” then remembered he needed to be careful. You never knew when someone might be watching.

  Today was his eighteenth birthday and he sat alone in a green cotton shirt, drawstring pants, and slippers. This was no birthday celebration. He was there for an important discussion with his doctor. In truth, it was more of an evaluation; one he had high hopes for.

  He thought about the first time he waited, alone, in this room. The table and chair were the same, but his attire and reason for being there was different. He wore jeans and an Iron Maiden t-shirt and sat there confused as to why he was there. He was only fourteen, and things had been rough with his foster parents. OK, “rough” might not be the best word. “Horrendous,” yeah, that’s the correct term. He wasn’t beaten or neglected. Food, care, clothes, etc... nothing was withheld. In fact, to those looking in from the outside, he’d had a great childhood with supportive foster parents that gave him all they could to make sure he had a wonderful loving home.

  When he turned nine, they encouraged him to sign up for little league, which he jumped at. He loved baseball. They traveled around to every practice and game, ensuring he always saw two parents supporting him. The same for every school event. To some extent, he felt they were trying to overcompensate for him having lost both parents in a horrible tragedy at age seven.

  The door clicked and Edward saw the tall, slender forty-something frame of Doctor Law enter. His nose buried in papers as always.

  “Good morning, Edward.” Doctor Law said. His name was always the source of a few jokes among Edward and the other patients. With a name like that, he should be a lawyer. But Edward’s favorite was, he was the “Law” around this place. He liked that one, because it was true, and it was his joke.

  Doctor Law pulled a chair away from the table, and then stopped with a bewildered look on his face. He frantically studied the folder in his hands. Without looking up he said, “I will be right back. I have the wrong folder.” He walked back out the door, flipping through the pages with the look of confusion growing the whole time.

  Edward always wondered if these types of mistakes were legitimate or some kind of experiment, with someone observing the subject’s reactions through the two-way portal in the wall. He played it cool, sat, and waited for the doctor to return.

  The two-way mirror grabbed his attention during his first visit as well. They didn’t hide what it was, just who was behind it. He remembered sitting there, focusing as hard as he could to see through it; hoping his foster parents were on the other side and would be in soon to take him home. That was not the case. Instead, only Doctor Law entered the room.

  They talked for hours about many topics. He asked about his relationship with his foster mom, and then about his foster father. To both questions, Edward gave glowing answers about how close he felt to them and how great his life was going.

  The conversation moved to school and friends. He wanted to know if Edward was being bullied or harassed at school. He suggested that kids sometimes single out a child who has been in a foster home or has had a traumatic past. Well, the answer to that was most definitely not. Edward had lots of friends, both in and away from school. Other than the normal ribbing you give each other during a baseball game or in the schoolyard, he remembered nothing like bullying. He couldn’t think of any time he may have bullied anyone else, either.

  Doctor Law asked him if any of his friends tried to get him to take or experiment with any kind of drugs. That answer was a very loud, “Absolutely not!” His foster parents asked him about drugs once before too. They even took him to the doctor for testing. Edward tried everything he could to convince them. Two days later, the results were in, and his foster parents were apologetic. They explained they heard rumors from other parents about drug use among his friends, and wanted to be sure. Doctor Law listened to his answer while consulting a file laid out on the table before him. He didn’t challenge Edward’s answer, or ask him any more questions about it.

  Next, he asked about his real parents. Edward thought for a minute about how to answer, since he was still unsure why he was there. He could have said he never thought about them or what happened to them anymore, but that would have been a lie. He thought about it daily. Sometimes hourly. He told Doctor Law how he felt, and how bad he missed them. Edward then felt the need to explain. He loved his foster parents, but he missed his real parents. Doctor Law interrupted his explanation to tell him that was normal, and they understood that. Hearing that made Edward feel less guilty, though it was not really bothering him much.

  Doctor Law asked delicately about the moment he found them. Edward shifted in his seat and explained, “Something woke me up. I laid there for a few moments and heard several loud crashes coming from the kitchen. I called for my mom and she never answered. I heard another crash, and she screamed. I walked downstairs and pushed open the door. That’s when… I saw both lying on the floor.” Edward sighed heavily. “Shortly after that a police officer came in and rushed me out of the house.”

  This was a memory Edward wished he could lose. For months, he woke up
screaming as the image of his dead parents invaded his sleep. His foster mother would storm in and hold him for hours, trying with all her might to protect him from the memory, but nothing drove it away.

  Moments after Edward walked in, Officer Tillingsly grabbed and rushed him out to his patrol car. He left him there for the longest minute or two of his life. When he returned, he took Edward to the police station. The officer was a friend of Edward’s father, and was always around. He could tell Officer Tillingsly was in as much shock as Edward. He sat Edward in the chair behind his desk and gave him a soda to drink. Sitting in a chair beside him, they talked about anything and everything, including a fishing trip he’d taken with Edward and his father over the summer.

  They’d been out there for hours with no bites, if you didn’t count the bugs. Officer Tillingsly thought he had a bite on his line once. He reeled it in close to the boat, but when he looked, he leaned over the side a little too far. Flapping his arms like a back-pedaling turkey, he hung there for a few seconds until gravity won and he entered the water with a splash. Edward remember hearing his father laughing while saying, ’Well, Lewis, if we weren’t going to catch anything before, we won’t now. You scared them all off.”

  When they got home, Edward’s mother asked if they caught anything. Edward told her, “We caught Officer Tillingsly.” She looked at them like they had lost their minds. All three busted out in hysterical laughter. There was no laughter between them this time. His attempt to distract Edward—both of them really—failed.

  The station itself was a hive of activity. Everyone moved around from one room to another in a blur. All talking, and all giving Edward the same heartbroken look as they walked past. Some even had tears in their eyes. Everyone, and I mean everyone, knew his family in this typical small town with only one elementary, junior, and senior high school. On top of that, his father was a local legend. He was a high school All-American Quarterback. Sportswriters and scouts came from all over to meet him during his senior year. He had the pick of prime offers from the best schools, and I do mean the best schools. Alabama, Penn State, and Notre Dame were at the top of a long list. Even with all those great offers, he bypassed college to stay and work the family farm.

  After high school, he married his high school sweetheart. They were both active in the community, helping to run the fall festival each year, things at church, town council meetings, and the school board. With all of that, Edward’s house was always full of the sounds of laughter and conversation. Most memories were happy ones, but there were a few that were not so joyous. Once or twice a month, a group of men would show up late at night and talk to his father for a few minutes before leaving. Edward would hear a car door close when he came home the next morning just before sunrise. His parents never discussed what this was about in front of him; all he knew was that his father kept to himself and seemed different for the next couple of days.

  A click from the door gave Edward the sense of déjà vu, as Doctor Law opened the door carrying a file like he did about ten minutes ago. He hoped it is the right file this time. He sat back in his chair and watched the doctor circle around to the only other chair in the room. Edward cleared his mind; it was now time for his Oscar-worthy performance.

  2

  “Sorry about that Edward. I had the wrong file,” Doctor Law announced with an obvious lack of emotion while sitting down. His bedside manner always lacked warmth. “Happy birthday. Have you already put in your meal request?” he asked without looking at Edward.

  The annual birthday meal was one of the few attempts to make you feel as normal as possible. In each of the previous years, Edward ordered the same thing, and this year was no different. “Thank you. Yes, I have. I am simple. No steak or lobster for me. I want three slices of deep dish six cheese pizza and a cola.”

  “Let me talk to them and see if we can order you a real pizza. None of that stuff the cafeteria makes. You only turn eighteen once, right?”

  What the doctor said was very true, you do turn eighteen only once, but the pizza was not what he was after. That gift, could be what he received if everything went well in this meeting.

  “Shall we get started?” Doctor Law settled into his seat, opened the folder, and grabbed a pen from the chest pocket in his white coat. “How are things going for you lately? It has been what…three months since we last spoke?”

  Has it been that long? Edward had lost track of the time since he and Doctor Law sat down and talked in a true evaluation setting. It was easy to do, since Doctor Law and the rest of the staff interacted with all of the patients daily to check on them and observe their conditions, but he played along. “Has it been that long? I am good. How are you?”

  “That is great to hear. I am well. Thank you for asking,” Doctor Law said while still looking down at the folder. He examined each page before flipping to the next. “So, I see you are completely off of your medications. Feeling any side effects or relapses?”

  Edward remembered when they started to wean him off of his various daily medications over a year ago. At first, he felt more screwed up in the head than he did on the pills, but the staff reassured him that was natural. His body chemistry needed to readjust to life without them. They were right! It took him several weeks to feel “normal,” which to his realization was better than he had ever felt since walking into this place. He always thought it was odd that you come to a place like this for “help,” but are immediately put into an unstable situation of shock and medication. He had no clue during his first meeting with Doctor Law that his foster parents had already left, not until a nursing administrator came in to help show him to his room. When he heard that phrase and realized his family had abandoned him, he fell into a dark and frenzied panic. He tried to run down the hallway toward the door he came in through, but there was no handle on his side of it. He was trapped.

  After the administrator dragged him to his room, he entered a semi-catatonic depressive state. The next week was full of random explosions of emotions, followed by a dormant withdrawn state. The only reason it didn't last longer was the medication they forced him to take. After the first week, it started to take hold and altered his mental state to the point of not caring about anything anymore. He became what he overheard the staff call a “neutral.” Someone not happy nor sad, existing somewhere in the middle. After a few years, Edward determined the entire pattern of care depended on everyone being a neutral. Neutrals were easier to control; they accepted the treatment. Most had no idea they were ill and were so emotionally disconnected from the world they are not aware of anything going on around them. Edward was different from the others.

  Unlike most of the patients in this facility, Edward was not mentally or emotionally ill. Nor was he disturbed or suffering from anything. In reality, he was very intelligent. Just misunderstood. This intelligence allowed him to see through the treatments even while on the medications. Medications that didn’t address any of the reasons he was there. The more he studied the treatment method they were using on him, the more he started understanding the game. A game he had to master to make them think he had recovered from whatever they thought was wrong with him.

  “No, sir, no side effects in over a year. To be honest, Doctor Law, I have never felt better.”

  “What about relapses? Last time we talked, you said it had been months since you had seen any images.”

  It was time for Edward to submit his performance for a Best Actor nomination. In a very controlled, confident, yet casual tone, he said, “I can’t remember the last time I saw the image of someone that was not there.”

  Edward made sure to not look up at the audience of five blue and white semi-translucent individuals gathered behind Doctor Law. They were in the room roaming around and exploring when Edward sat down. The two-way mirror was a spot of extreme fascination to all but one of them. That one stood in the corner, swaying from side to side. As they moved, they floated through each other, instead of bumping into one another. Their interaction, or l
ack thereof, made it appear as though they were unaware of each other or anyone else in the room. Some of the figures are familiar to Edward, he saw them often, but the one in the corner was a rare visitor. She only showed up for special occasions.

  The first time he saw one of his “special friends” he was nine and scared shitless. It was late at night and he got out of bed to go to the bathroom. Before he even opened the bedroom door, he felt something. It was sitting at the end of the hallway, surrounded by a glowing fog. It had the form of an old man and was fading in and out, allowing Edward to see right through him at times. The sight caused Edward to freeze in his tracks as a cold prickly sweat broke out all over his body. His pulse quickened to the pace of a machine gun, which he could hear in his own ears. The feeling of an immense weight fell over him, dulling the remaining senses. A feeling he still felt every time to this day, sometimes it was stronger, but it did not paralyze him anymore. Over the years, he learned to control it.

  Edward tried to scream, but nothing came out, like in a nightmare. But this was no nightmare. This was real. He felt a warm trickle of liquid drizzle down the inside of his thigh. He tried to scream again, and this time the sound came out full volume, summoning his foster parents, who ran into the hall to his side. Edward attempted to point out the man to them, but they could not see him. Thinking it was another one of his night-terrors, they took him to the bathroom to clean him up. He pulled against them and fought every step as they moved closer to the haunting vision. Once inside the Bathroom, Edward would not take his eyes off the door the whole time he was in there. He feared that the man would come in there after them, but he didn’t.

  The next night, one floated over his bed as he laid down to sleep. He thought about screaming, but to what end? They would run in, but not believe him. Instead, he pulled his covers up as high as he could to hide from the image and fight the chill consuming his shaking body. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force himself to fall asleep, which had the opposite effect. Eventually it vanished, leading to several apprehensive moments while Edward laid there waiting to see if it would return.