Of course, any snitches that had real information on an inmate or testified against another inmate wound up in cell block 4 with an easier life. Unfair, but true. It didn't matter if they were violent offenders or not.
Killian let out a breath and entered the now door less control room.
“At least the sun will be up when I leave,” he mumbled under his breath.
He checked all of the equipment to make sure it was working right and sighed. No music or TV was allowed up here. He had to keep his full attention on the ground below him and the equipment. He poured himself a cup of hot, strong coffee and wandered to the window.
He glanced down to the road below then back up to look at the stars. A decapitated head startled him mid-way. Killian stepped back quickly. The head floated outside of the window. Killian committed every detail of the face to memory, thinking he might look back in the records one day to see if he could identify this man.
The ghostly invader had long graying hair, a dry raw hide wrinkled face, extreme blue eyes and a mean stare. He mouthed something to Killian, who was now frozen in his spot. Killian blinked and the apparition disappeared. Killian felt like someone had stuck a straw into his body and sucked out all of his energy. He turned around slowly to make sure no one was behind him playing a sick joke.
Pete, the man who worked the day shift, was known for pulling pranks and just because Killian had waved goodbye to Pete downstairs not 15 minutes ago didn't mean he hadn't followed him back to the control tower.
Killian was the only person in the room. An image invaded his mind of the basement and the room behind the basement. The death room. Only one man had been put to death in that room back in the 1960's. The room still had the electric chair and death bed in it. No one wanted to move them out. As a matter of fact, that particular room was the original entrance to the prison. The death furniture was the first thing all of the new inmates saw when they walked through the door. The hairs on the back of Killian’s neck and arms pricked up and Killian had the overwhelming sensation that the decapitated head was the inmate who had had been fried in the electric chair.
His vision drew out to the basement and all of the slaughtered bodies piled on top of each other in that room after the riots ended. Rats had already started feasting on the still warm flesh. A shiver racked through his body. He grabbed his phone.
“Hey Larry, how’s it going?”
“Yeah, just a little bored and needed someone to talk to.”
Killian was determined to keep Larry on the phone for at least a little while, if not all night. He was becoming more of a believer in ghosts by the minute.
Two hours passed. Tonight was a slow night at both penitentiary’s and time seemed to crawl. Larry was bored and moved on to telling Killian all about his family when Killian heard a noise outside the room. Killian quietly walked to the doorway and glanced down the hall. What looked like a man’s shadow turned down the corridor to the right. Killian closed his eyes for a moment. He wanted to shake the creepy feelings from his bones and ignore what he saw, but if there was an actual human being in the prison it was his job to contain him.
“Hey Larry, I need to step out for a bathroom break,” Killian sighed. There was no use in telling Larry he was being haunted tonight. He would never hear the end of it from his co-workers if the news got out.
“I’ll tell the boss, call me when your back.” Larry replied.
“10-4,” Killian hit the end button and put his phone back in his pocket.
He mumbled a short prayer before pulling his gun and flashlight out of his holster. Taking a steadying breath he stepped into the dark hallway. He wandered down the corridor until he came to the outlet that would lead him in the direction the shadow went. He stopped, placed his back against the wall, drew his gun up and peeked around the corner. The passage was empty. He walked the short distance to the only room in this part of the wing, took a deep breath and turned the knob, it wasn’t locked. He yanked. Nothing happened. He placed his foot firmly on the frame and pulled with all of his strength. The door didn’t budge. He tried one more time before relenting, if he couldn’t get in no-one else could either.
Killian turned around to head back to the control center. Instead of finding an empty corridor he came face to face or actually face to torso of a dead man hanging from a noose. The lower part of his body, hips down were singed off with a blow torch, leaving cooked meat intertwined with red sinewy muscle and bits of bone showing. Blood dripped onto the floor. The guy’s genitals had been cut off after they were cooked and shoved into the guy’s mouth.
Killian shook his head, he remembered Trevor well from Cell block 4. Trevor was only in his early twenties and was due to get out of prison within a few months of his demise. He wasn’t a bad kid, but he was one of the snitches that testified against Geronimo. Geronimo was a serial rapist and murderer. He killed over 30 men and women before he was caught.
Trevor was the first snitch Geronimo killed that horrible day of the riots. The second snitch was older. Killian couldn’t remember his name, but they had found him in the basement with his head hacked off. Geronimo, on the other hand, was found dead on the stairwell, gutted like a freshly slaughtered pig. Not one inmate would talk about who killed whom when the riots ended, so no-one was ever prosecuted for the crimes against the dead.
Killian felt bile rise in his throat, gaged, and stumbled backward through the now open doorway into the vacant room behind him. He quickly flicked light into the corners of the room before placing his hands on his knees. His stomach clenched, coffee flowed up onto his tongue. He spat the fowl acidic liquid out of his mouth and took a few deep breaths. When he was sure he could stand upright again he conducted another sweep of the vacant room. Something caught his eye as he re-traced his flashlight over the last wall. He leaned in closer to have a look. His heartbeat kicked up a notch. Etched into the cement was a perfect replica of Geronimo’s face holding up a decapitated head. It pulsed out at him a few times before receding back into the concrete.
“I’m hallucinating,” he whispered. He touched his finger to the now smooth wall then placed his palm on his forehead to make sure he wasn’t running a high fever.
Killian hesitantly stepped out of the room, closed the door behind him and illuminated the spot where Trevor hung. Trevor was no longer there and the floors were clean of all blood. He cautiously roamed the hallway until he reached the bathroom. Pushing the door open he glanced inside to make sure he wouldn’t find any more surprises. Relieved the room was empty he set the flashlight on the counter, picked up a bottle of water, washed his hands, rinsed out his mouth, and splashed his face. He stared at himself in the mirror.
“I am not going crazy,” he told his image with conviction. He felt his forehead again, and I’m not sick he thought. With extreme determination he stalked out of the bathroom.
Killian was a few feet from the control room when the orbs appeared. They floated in the air for a moment then glided straight for him. He froze in mid step, blinked his eyes a few times and watched as they drifted by.
“Christ, maybe I am losing my mind,” he whispered.
He grabbed his phone, turned, and started taking pictures of the different sized bubbles. In mid click he felt an intense pain as his wrist slammed down ruthlessly. His phone catapulted to the floor and shattered into pieces. He rushed into the control room, wishing it had a door on it to slam and lock all of the shadow men out.
Killian picked up his two-way radio and called in to let his boss know he was back manning the equipment. He shakily poured another cup of coffee, positioned himself as close to the corner as he could while still keeping an eye on the equipment and the open doorway. He frowned as he glanced at the clock. Three more hours to go and he was now officially cut off from talking to the real world since his phone laid in pieces on the hallway floor. Out of all of the nights he’d been working the graveyard shift this was the first night he’d experienced this much paranormal activity.
Seve
ral times during the rest of his shift he caught glimpses of a shadow man or orbs hovering just beyond the light. His anxieties would kick up, but he was not tempted anymore to check out the dark hall. The chatter from his two-way radio and routine instructions to open the other gates for deliveries were his only saving grace for the rest of the night.
The sun started to peak, bringing light into the windows. It was the end of his shift. He weakly walked into the hall, collected his broken phone and trudged down the stairs to the door that would lead him out of this haunted place. He was now a firm believer of the spirit world and wondered what tomorrow night had in store for him.
Karma
“Really! She may be sweet but she's lazy, she’s a liar, and she steals. And she’s so full of drama I can’t stand it anymore.” Belle replied to the other end of the phone. “Of course I've talked to boss lady. Those two are BFF's.”
“I know, I know, the load is on me.” Belle sighed. At least she didn't have to worry about it when she worked with Lee. Lee wasn’t any of those things, she did her job, and Belle trusted Lee.
“Yeah, well she's burnt her bridges. I'm too old to play these games.”
“Alright, see you later Lee.”
Belle growled. Great, she couldn't wait to get into work tomorrow and clean up after Lori, along with the other work she had to do. She let out a deep breath and tried to release the grudge she was holding onto. Why she even bothered she didn't know. Actually she did, she was hoping the girl would clean up her act before karma came to get her.
She'd been on this plane for 40 years now and was tired of human kind. The majority of people she met were selfish. They were liars and cheaters. They could care less about anyone but themselves. People loved to offer their services but when push came to shove they were rarely there.
She rubbed her fingers together watching the flames appear on her fingertips. Oh well, in reality she worked for him. She did what she was told. She smiled. What she could do if she decided to take some vengeance. She let the flame extinguish. Vengeance was not for her to decide, that was his call. And when he made his call she brought down the karma.
She laughed, remembering back to the days when humans were barbarians. Humankind evolved alright, right into the destruction of themselves and the planet, yet she still had hope for them and she still didn't know why she even bothered. No reason to hold a grudge though, she told herself again. People made their own beds to lie in and karma still rained control of everyone's life. She was the proof of that.
*****
“Still at it Belle?”
“You know I am Katrina.”
“And... how’s it working for you?”
Belle shrugged, but her mouth held a slight grimace.
“I don't know why you bother, they're useless.” Katrina grinned.
“Hope for the future maybe.”
Katrina giggled, “There is no hope for the future of mankind. You wouldn't be on this plane if there was.”
“You could be right. We'll see.”
“So have you talked to that little monster yet?” Katrina asked.
It was Belle's turn to laugh, “No, I just ignore her now-a-days. Too much drama, all she does is bitch and whine anyway.” Belle paused for a moment. “Lori's going to sink this place soon. She needs to start paying attention.”
“It's not your business to be concerned about,” Katrina stated.
“I know, I'd just hate to see it happen.”
“No you wouldn't. What kind of mischief are you up to Belle?”
“Nothing yet, Katrina,” Belle replied while she played with her necklace.
“Let me see that!” Katrina exclaimed, yanking on the chain and grasping the teardrop. It was ice cold to the touch, but Katrina didn't feel it. She always kept an even 100 degree body temperature. “Oh, I see, he sent you to do a karma check.”
“It needs to be done every once in a while Kat. There's a serious lack of caring in this world.”
Belle pulled the chain out of Katrina's hand and fingered the little glass teardrop hanging off of it. The teardrop came to life with silver mists swirling in motion.
“Don't call me Kat! You know how much I hate that name.”
Belle smirked, she loved getting under Katrina's skin every once in a while.
Katrina smiled as she watched the poor lost souls in Belles necklace dart around, “Judge, jury and executioner. Lori should be happy you're playing those right now.”
“How can she be happy if she doesn't know?”
“If he had to come down here he would have taken her out by now.”
Belle grinned back, “So true, she gets another day.”
“You've been gone for a while, how many have you taken?” Katrina asked gazing longingly at the teardrop.
“Enough, I'm almost done.”
Katrina snickered, “You would think he would go after the bigger offenders.”
“He has taken a few of the bigger, badder offenders, but everyone's got to pay the penalty. Besides the way he sees it the bigger offenders are helping him keep the smaller ones in check.” Belle giggled, “He doesn't care much anymore about some of the innocents losing their life because the population is out of control down here.”
Katrina laughed, “He's got one warped sense of humor.” She stood up from the patio table, “When's the big event?”
“Tomorrow. It has to happen before her big screw up. He doesn't want her to do more damage to the people who are treating her right.”
“So she has already done some major damage to them? She's lucky to be alive.” Katrina bubbled with laughter, “I'll be back to watch this.” Her voice trailed off into the wind as she disappeared into the air.
Belle tapped on the teardrop three times to silence the lost souls. She stood up, stretched, and went back to work. Somewhere deep down in her heart she was hoping that fate would take a turn and the big screw up would be avoided without her intervention.
*****
“So, this is the big day?” Katrina grinned and rubbed her hands together. “I can't wait!”
“You're sick to want to watch this,” Belle whispered. “And turn your voice off. I can hear you just fine without you talking out loud.”
“Fine!” Katrina shouted into Belle's head.
“That's better!” Belle shouted back.
A gust of wind blew through the patio entrance way opening the door for them, they entered the building unseen. Lori scrambled to shut the door again.
“What are you waiting for?” Katrina asked.
“I'm waiting for the costumers to leave.” Belle shot Katrina a glare. It was just like her to be impatient. “You lost your powers, remember? You became a little to flame happy.”
“Must you bring that up again? Those people deserved it, they pissed me off.”
Belle shook her head. Anytime Katrina needed a fire fix she'd hunt down Belle. Belle didn't mind much, she enjoyed the company. Besides it was very unlikely Katrina would be given back her powers. She was too quick to use them and had a sick hunger for watching people burn. Katrina always said the blue, red, orange and white colors of flames held a magic of their own and drew her to lighting fires. That the colors looked best when people were wearing them.
The moment arrived. The costumers left. Lori wandered to her computer and turned it on. Her soap-opera popped up on the screen as she put her earplugs in.
Belle untucked her chain from her blouse and held out the glass teardrop with one hand. Fate hadn’t intervened. Grinning she rubbed her fingertips together until her flame ignited with her other hand and touched the extension cord the computer was plugged into. The flame bounced, caught hold of the plastic and burned into the wiring. It raced up to the computer sending an electrical shock through Lori's veins. Within seconds the fire scorched through the tablecloth and sp
read throughout the rest of the building.
Belle placed the glass teardrop flat on her hand and extended it at the exact moment Lori's soul fled her body. She smiled wickedly as she watched Lori’s essence try to escape her new imprisonment. Satisfied, Belle glanced back up at the flames roaring around her and Katrina. They're laughter echoed through the smoke filled room as they faded back into their realm.
Maybe next century she wouldn't be so busy.
If you have enjoyed reading Dark Fates please be kind and write a review. Lynn Thompson appreciates the feedback.
For more on Lynn Thompson visit:
Blog https://lynnthompsonbooks.blogspot.com/
Website www.lynnthompsonbooks.com
Lynn Thompson's Short Stories:
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Blake-A Montana Dayton Novel -all she wanted was to be alone for the winter
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