In the Dark, Part 5

The tour started in the gift shop, which Sean thought a bit odd. Wasn’t that where they were supposed to end up? So they could buy postcards and keychains and bona fide relics to prove they’d been on the tour?

But as Miss Shirley started her spiel about the history of the building, she mentioned the gift shop used to be the former kitchen, and a door in the back opened onto the basement. Before they even reached the door, Sean started having second thoughts. He wasn’t scared, of course, but he knew the power of suggestion to believe in the supernatural would be strong in a darkened room surrounded by people who wanted to hear something go bump in the night. Almost all the “evidence” he’d mocked in his videos was nothing more than someone hearing something they thought they should because they were told someplace was haunted. He didn’t need to start seeing or hearing things himself.

Miss Shirley stopped at the door, which looked ancient and heavy, held into place with black, wrought-iron hinges. The crowd was silent, mesmerized by the gleam in her eyes, hanging on her every word. “Behind this door,” she said softly, her words nevertheless traveling throughout the room, “are the original wooden stairs that lead down to the unfinished basement. It’s cold down there because the walls are carved from the ground itself. And I must warn you, this is the most haunted part of the house.”

Yeah, right, Sean thought, but he kept his skepticism to himself.

She looked around the crowd until she found David. With a small smile, she added, “You see, in the basement is a tunnel carved under the city which once ran all the way to the river to allow cargo from boats to be brought up to the home. It’s old and crumbling now, and the ground above has broken through in spots, so because of this, we don’t normally open the area to the public.”

Holding the camera close to his face, Sean muttered under his breath, “Because you don’t want any lawsuits. Haunted, my ass.”

He was far enough away that she didn’t hear him, but a few girls behind him giggled nervously. One sidled closer, leaning in to ask, “If you’re really with Ghost Adventures, where’s Zac and Adam?”

He gave her a withering look. “They’re coming in tonight after the tour.”

More giggles, but they stopped abruptly when Miss Shirley unlocked the heavy latch on the door. It swung open a few inches on its own and the crowd let out a collective gasp, as if something from inside the basement had pushed it open.

“Jesus Christ,” Sean muttered. “It’s the angle of the floor, not a freaking ghost.”

That earned him some dirty looks as Miss Shirley encouraged everyone to line up. “Careful now,” she called out as she held the door wide and the first few people entered the basement. Wooden risers creaked from the sudden weight of footsteps. “When you reach the floor, you can go down a bit into the tunnel. Don’t worry, you won’t get lost. It’s capped at the end so it doesn’t go all the way to the river anymore. There’s room enough for everyone.”

When David reached the door, he glanced back and finally noticed Sean wasn’t following. “Come on.”

“I’m going to stay here.” Sean looked around at the wealth of Civil War books and toys and candy, keeping his GoPro camera trained on the door and the crowd descending beyond it. “You go. Get spooked.”

But David stepped out of line. “What do you want to stay here for?” he asked, closing the distance between them. An errant strand of hair stood up like an Alfalfa cowlick on the back of his head.

Sean didn’t know when that had happened, but it made David look incredibly cute. Naive. In need of protection. He thrust his hand into his jacket pocket and fisted the pebbles he’d picked up earlier. Part of him wanted to spook this guy, and part of him wanted…what, exactly? He didn’t know. Maybe he didn’t want to know. Maybe this was all a bad idea and he should just go home.

“Isn’t this why we’re here?” David asked. His foot nudged Sean’s—accidentally? Sean didn’t know. When had he managed to get so close again?

“This is what you’re here for,” Sean reminded him. “I’m here to debunk your ghosts. I don’t need to go down into a dark room full of people who want to believe something supernatural is down there with them. I don’t need to become a part of the group hypnosis.”

David scowled. “Is that all you really think this is? After what just happened to you on the stairs—”

“Nothing happened,” Sean snapped. “A vent upstairs turned on and I caught a bit of a breeze from it, that’s all. Stop trying to make everything into ghosts.”

“Then come downstairs and prove there’s nothing there,” David challenged.

But Sean turned away. “This tour is your thing, I get it. It helps get you all worked up for the main event when the lights go out later. You’ll soak up the ghost stories Miss Shirley tells you and they’ll make you feel vindicated when you hear the floorboards creak or an acorn fall on the roof, or whatever. Fine.”

“I’m not—”

“Me,” Sean continued, cutting David off, “I want to go through this place with fresh eyes. An open mind. Don’t shake your head—if there are ghosts here, I want to prove it. I almost hope there are. But if there aren’t, I don’t want to be bamboozled by a tour guide who can spin a good yarn.”

David kept shaking his head. “You want to go in blind? Without knowing what we might hear or see?”

“Exactly,” Sean said. “You can tell me the stories later if you want, that’s cool. I’m used to listening to you talk about ghosts in your videos so that won’t persuade me one way or the other. You take the tour, I’ll stay here and…”

He turned around, looking for something to fiddle with, maybe the gunpowder candy by the register, then noticed the crowd had thinned out and Miss Shirley stood at the door, watching them. Clearing his throat, Sean raised his voice so she’d overhear. “You take the tour and I’ll shoot B-roll. Then tonight you can lead our investigation, how’s that sound?”

David’s mouth twisted into a sardonic grin. “Like you’re scared of whatever’s down in the basement, to be honest.”

Sean rolled his eyes. “There’s nothing there, not with thirty people hanging around waiting for it to appear. If ghosts are real—and they aren’t—but if they were, they wouldn’t perform on demand. You know that. We’ll have more of a chance of seeing something when it’s just the two of us tonight.”

Alone, he almost added, but didn’t. When he tried to picture the evening to come, his mind short-circuited at the thought of David this close or closer in the dark.

To be continued …