Chapter 2
The First Encounter
From behind the flannel curtain, Vera King looked out onto the thick fog blanketing the valley across the street. Treetops spiked through the eerie white mass as a few inhabitants of the foreign mountain town began passing by in their cars.
The scene below was in stark contrast to her familiar seaside living. For a moment, Vera wondered if she had made the right decision. Hundreds of miles away, on a whim she left behind her private security company to pursue an idealistic treasure hunt. That wasn’t all she left behind.
Vera’s mind raced as she thought about the man by the name of Jeffrey Kenneth. He had only recently been recovered after awakening from a hundred year cryogenic slumber. Every moment since, trouble seemed to follow him. From inside of his torso, a doctor had retrieved an obsolete piece of technology that when decrypted revealed a list of coordinates. It was the second set from that list that had brought Vera and her two traveling companions to a large, derelict house in a town called Hiddendale.
Angelica Hill, one of Vera’s employees, had agreed to tag along because of a sense of duty to her boss... and a paycheck. At that moment, she was busying herself with unpacking as Vera continued to stare outside.
A few minutes passed before the door to their room opened, bringing Vera’s attention back to Hiddendale. John entered looking excited, “Who’s ready to get boots on the ground?”
“Good conversation with the waitress?” Vera asked.
“Didn’t say much, but this place is gorgeous. I may sell my business and move here.” The two women gave mocking laughs.
John Coleman, Vera’s ex and frequent client, had also abandoned his cargo shipping business (leaving it in the care of his first mate, Connor Oswald) in order to venture out in exploration of what lay at the next coordinate. He, however, had not anticipated the accompaniment of Angelica; it had been his desire to rekindle things with Vera. She tried at every turn to explain that what had been between them was in the past, but John was persistent.
Vera led the way out of their room and down the large wooden staircase of the B&B. They passed a young couple ascending to their room while idle chatter echoed from those still eating in the dining hall to the right. The sun had finally risen above the mountain tops, cascading warm orange light in through the etched front glass door. An overpowering scent of pine emanated from several candles in the parlor to their left as they exited out into the crisp morning air.
“Walk?” John asked, taking lead down the brick path to the parking lot. The two agreed; their destination was only just down the street.
As they approached what the workers of the Hiddendale B&B called ‘Hunter Mansion’, they crossed the street through the cold, wet air left over from the still lifting fog. In daylight the structure was just as menacing as it had been in the dead of night. The perimeter of the property was lined with a towering eight foot tall, weather beaten cement wall. Bits were crumbling from all heights while moss and algae made claim to most of its surface.
The front vine covered gate appeared rusted shut as each one took a turn trying to pull or push. They began following along, looking for another way in when off to the left they found a pedestrian entrance. A gate only about three feet tall was hidden under a curtain of vines; its padlock, too, rusted closed. The vines easily moved aside as one, two, three they hopped over.
Wet leaves squished beneath their feet as they passed under the looming trees to the front of the house. Broken shutters blocked most of the floor length windows of the three story structure. At one time, it may have been a beautiful house. At its state, the remaining red clay shingles were mostly green and black. Whatever color it was supposed to be painted had chipped away, but someone obviously still lived there. A graffiti tag was in the process of being washed, the bucket of water and scrub brush lay in wait.
Vera knelt down to peek in through a pair of broken shutters. A mostly dark room with some large furniture was all she could see. She tried a different window, this time on tiptoes; inside: movement. Quickly, she knocked on the pane. “Hello?”
A dark figure stood silhouetted in a doorway. In almost a growl, she heard, “Go away.” The person threw both hands to the side, shooing her to leave.
“We are here about Nurture Bio Corp. Can we talk?” She pointed toward the front door. From within she watched the shadow nod and slowly turn.
To the others behind her, she smiled, “Progress.” What she didn’t let on was the spike of nerves twisting in her stomach. Secretly, Vera had hoped there would be nobody home, and nothing worth investigating. Now, it was up to her to lead the search onward, but to what, she didn’t know. Her feet suddenly felt made of lead as she climbed the steps to the front door. Thunk! A heavy deadbolt had been twisted, followed by a tink, tink from a chain sliding free. The large, wood arched door slowly creaked open revealing a hunched old man. His shoulder length, graying, once black hair fell in oily ringlets from his head.
Vera stepped back from the mildewy smell diffusing from his moth eaten clothes. “Hi,” she introduced herself and companions while watching the man’s eyes dart from their feet to something unseen behind them and back again to their feet.
The disheveled man nodded, “Same place, different place, mind you, don’t ask me.” He turned and beckoned them to follow him in.
“What was that?” John whispered, eyebrow raised. Nonsense aside, Vera stepped over the threshold. As her eyes adjusted, she almost ran into the man. He had stopped and was swatting at something, “You don’t live here. Judge not.” He led them in a little farther and stopped again, this time, his arm slightly raised, catatonic.
They looked around the grand, dust covered foyer. A staircase began above their heads and spiraled down to their right. Cracked tiles ran under their feet while the only artwork was the peeling wallpaper.
“So,” John spoke up, “is this Nurture Bio Corp?” Angelica remained silent, taking in her surroundings, hands on her hips, ready to strike if need be.
The man didn’t move. Vera walked around in front of him; his eyes were rolled in the back of his head, twitching frantically. “I think he’s having a seizure!” As she went to touch his shoulder, the man bounced back. “Spiders don’t get me. I drip with poison,” he shuffled forward as if nothing had happened.
“See, spiders don’t get him. He drips with poison,” John said with a sarcastic smile. Angelica stifled a chuckle, but then, “ha ha...” The distant laugh gave the three pause. As if it heard John, the house began to echo with the noise, slowly growing louder, “HA HA,” before fading again, “ha ha…”
An involuntary shiver took over Vera. They turned down a hallway running along the center of the house devoid of windows. If there had once been one at the end it had since been blocked by a large bookcase. Doors on either side hung ajar except for the very last one on the right. Above it, a red light cast an eerie glow. The man stopped in the middle of the hall mid stride, frozen once more.
“What do we do?” Vera asked.
“I don’t know, I’m not a doctor,” John answered exasperated.
“In here,” the man suddenly spoke and gestured to an open door. Through it was a small sitting room. The lamp in the corner flickered, and between broken shutters they could see pieces of the front yard from where they had just come. “Practice down in time,” he said, closing the door, leaving the three alone in the room.
Silence thickened between them as they surveyed the sparse, dust covered furniture. Angelica made several loops, peering out the windows as she passed. Clink, the twisting knob caught their attention. In walked a man, similarly dressed to the older one, but much younger and seemingly more coherent. “Good morning,” he smiled under shaggy black hair. Vera noticed the familiar smell of a wet dog. “I hear that you are with Nurture Bio Corp,” he stretched out his hand.
As Vera took it she said, “No, we were wondering if you were.” The man’s smile faded, letting loose the heavy bags under his eyes.
“Ah, well, my father’s mind isn’t what it used to be.”
“Yeah,” John cut in, “we think he might have been having seizures. Is he ok?”
“Quite. He has that reaction to one of his medications. It turns him, shall we say, zombie for a moment. The damage was done long ago, I’m afraid.” The statements almost seemed conflicting to Vera, but she didn’t pry. “His father, my grandfather, used to work for Nurture Bio Corp. I could introduce you, but I’m afraid it won’t do any good. He hasn’t spoken and has barely moved in years. By the way, my name is Sven.” Vera, John, and Angelica introduced themselves, eager to move the conversation along and get out of the rotting house.
“Could we please speak with your grandfather anyway?” Vera asked. Sven nodded and guestered for them to follow him back into the windowless hallway.
Taking one last look at the red glow above the door behind them, Vera followed Sven up the spiral staircase to the second floor. This time, the hallway was lined with curtain drawn windows on one side and doors on the other. Opening one of the closed doors, Sven led the troop into a library. Floor to ceiling bookshelves filled with piles of books, rather than neatly aligned, covered the walls. The curtains there, too, were drawn. The only light came from the blue glow of a computer screen perched on a large mahogany desk facing away from the entrants. Sven walked around and pushed a chair from behind the desk. Vera took a step back into John. Mere leathery skin and bones made up the body presented in the chair. A vacant expression stared, unseeing, from bulging eyes at the ceiling. Vera was sure this person was dead and had been for a while; she slid her hand under her jacket, resting it on her gun, just in case.
“This is Trey. I know he looks a bit troubled,” Sven began, “but I assure you he is fine. Watch.” Sven turned the computer monitor toward them. On the screen, numbers rose in undetectable patterns. “Watch,” he said again, pulling their attention back to his grandfather. Almost imperceptibly, the man’s eyes shifted toward the screen. “See, it’s the only thing that interests him now.”
“Trey?” Vera called, but the man ignored her. “Did you work for Nurture Bio Corp?” She tried in vain, but still no movement.
“So,” Sven began, “what is it you are here about exactly?”
Vera decided an alternate truth, yet closely aligned, would be better than the actual, “We know someone who participated in one of their studies.” She didn’t bother to look at the others, she knew they were holding their tongues in anticipation of whatever she decided to say, “And he hasn’t been able to get in touch with anyone about his results.”
“Fascinating,” Sven said, smiling. She couldn’t read his face to tell if he bought the story or not. “Is this him?” He looked at John.
“No,” Vera answered.
“May I speak with him?”
“Not right now. We were hired by him,” she continued to lie, “to help track down his results. If you know someone who might be able to help, he would greatly appreciate it.” Angelica had begun to pace back and forth again, apparently uneasy, but occasionally eyeing the old man in the chair, watching for any sign of awareness.
“No,” Sven, still smiling, continued, “I’m sorry.”
John took the opportunity to chime in, “The place we are staying, the innkeeper said something about a howl that comes from the old Hunter house. Is this the Hunter house?” Sven’s smile faded, once again exposing his drooping eyes.
“No. Stupid superstitions. There is no noise. The whistle from the lumber mill goes off on its own at night sometimes, and now here we are dealing with delinquents and vandals. I’ve phoned the police, but they do nothing.”
“That’s terrible,” said John.
“Please, tell me what is so important about this man’s results that you have made your pilgrimage to our old house here.”
“It’s just peculiar circumstances. We believe a local doctor may be trying to kill our client over whatever research was conducted,” a grain of truth. “Do you by chance have any of your grandfather’s old research?” Vera asked.
“Perhaps, but first, won’t you stay for lunch?” From somewhere in the house, the laughing started up again.
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Be afraid...