In the House of Mirrors (10 page)

You saw him?
Uncle Bernie asked.
You saw him didn't you?
His mouth wasn't moving, but I heard him loud and clear. We were communicating telepathically.
The old man with the claw? He was there, see. He was in the house. In the House of Mirrors, see.

I saw him, Uncle Bernie. You're damn right I did.
I too, was talking like one of Al Capone's wise guys.
And I'll tell you what I'm going to do when I see him again, see. I'm going to wring his little good-for-nothing neck!
I screamed.

Now hold on, champ. Don't go and do anything stupid. You're no match for him in the House of Mirrors!
Uncle Bernie told me, without speaking a single word.

He took my girl, see! And I have to stop him!

He's a bad man, Ritchie-my-bitchie.
Uncle Bernie's face began to change.
This is what he does. He takes and takes, until there's nothing left. You'll see. They all see. IN THE HOUSE OF MIRRORS THEY ALL SEE!
My uncle was no longer my uncle. He turned into the same species of inhuman filth that Lynne and Buster had changed into during my previous journeys into the dream-lands. The thing grabbed my neck and pulled me closer to its face, which was riddled with open sores that oozed thick puss. When it opened its mouth, my dream-self smelled the foul stench of human decay. “YOU WILL BE MINE!” it bellowed.

Then I woke up.

Light poured in through the small basement window. It was morning and I was safe again.

5

I collected my camera and drove to a small park on Weston Street, about ten minutes away from my sister's place. I stopped at a convenience store to pick up a disposable camera on the way. I decided that if I was going to buy into the weirdness that my camera had produced, then I needed to know the truth; that it was, in fact, the old camera's doing. There was a thought in my mind that Boone's creepy house in the woods was causing all of this. But if that were true, then what was with the black marks over Marty Olberstad's face? Was he intertwined in this somehow? Maybe his connection to the house was enough for the camera to incorporate him into this peculiar puzzle that I was now determined to solve.

The simple fact still remained that
I knew nothing of the camera and how it worked. I was convinced the camera was haunted, or possessed. In order to get to the bottom of things I needed to understand how the instrument worked. I picked up the disposable in hopes to capture the same images with both cameras. I could then decipher whether the camera was responsible for photographing ghostly images, or if the images were simply there and my camera was picking up on them.

It scared me to think maybe it was a little of both.

I arrived at the park a few minutes after two o'clock. School was just getting out and soon kids would be out and about, playing basketball or using the swings, or whatever kids did these days. The weather was still cold, but today happened to be a very warm day. It was pushing sixty degrees and the sun hung high overhead, melting most of the whiteness that previous storms left behind. To my surprise, there were more people in the park than I had expected. There were a few teenagers throwing wet snow at each other at the far end of the recreation center. A five-on-five basketball game had begun and was in full swing by the time I found a cozy seat on a nearby bench. A few children, probably Alice's age and slightly older, were on the playground's massive jungle gym, running around and screaming gleefully. Their parents were watching them closely, occasionally taking their eyes off of them to engage in casual conversations with each other.

I scanned the area briefly and saw her, Aurelia. She was sitting on a bench near the edge of the sandy area which contained the massive jungle gym. Her head was craned forward, her eyes glued to a book which undoubtedly carried a supernatural theme. I briefly thought about going over there, but running into her twice in one week (two days apart) would probably make her think I was stalking her. As it seemed, I was doing a better job tailing Aurelia than I was my Aunt Danica.

I decided to hang back, photograph the basketball court, and some of the trees that stood on the other side of the park. I pulled the trigger on the Denlax five times on both accounts. There was a group of houses just beyond the park, which I also snapped a few pictures of. I figured if there was something wrong with the camera, and it was taking pictures of another world perhaps, it would change the way all the houses looked and not just Boone's.

I laughed at how ridiculous my thoughts were.
Taking pictures of other worlds.
How crazy was I? I felt very uncomfortable with myself.
I'm apt to lose my mind if I continue thinking this way.

After much dilly-dallying and shifting uncomfortably on the bench, I decided to go over and talk to Aurelia after all. It'd be rude of me not to. Besides, I liked seeing her outside of Satanic ceremonies. And yes, I wanted to see her outside of our random run-ins too.

I went over to her with the intentions of asking her out on a date. As I walked toward her, I thought of Lynne. I hadn't even thought about another woman since her. It was kind of weird. Thinking about taking someone else out. Kissing them. Sex. It was something very foreign to me, something I assumed would pass with time. Time as they say, heals all wounds.

“
Studying for Saturday night's exam?” I asked, as I approached Aurelia.

She looked up from her book, somewhat startled.

“Jesus Christ. You scared the shit out of me.” She breathed a sigh of relief. “What the hell are you doing here?” she asked, faintly smiling. “Are you stalking me?”

“
Don't flatter yourself,” I said playfully. “I'm here taking a few pictures of the landscape. Photography happens to be a hobby of mine. Actually it started off as a job and it became more like a hobby. All boring stuff you probably don't want to hear. May I sit down for a minute?”

She slid over and patted the bench, inviting me to join her.

“Photographer, huh?” she said.

“
Yup. You sound surprised.”

“
Didn't peg you as the photographer type.”

“
And what type did you peg me as?” I asked.

She touched her lip for a moment with her pointer finger, as if she was rummaging around in her brain for the answer. “Disc Jockey.”

I burst out laughing.

“
What?” she asked.

“
Me? A DJ? That's hilarious.”

“
You do. You're very... I don't know... sarcastic?” she said, as if she was asking me a question. “Don't laugh,” she added, smiling. “Okay, do me. What do I look like?”

“
Besides someone who likes to practice black magic?”

She hesitated, squinting her eyes. “Besides that.”

“Nurse?”

She cocked her head to the side. “
Really?
That's your best guess.”

“
I don't know. I give up.”

She gave me a look that said, “okay, I'm done with you.” She shook her head. “I work at Dunkin Donuts.”

“Really?”
I sounded more surprised than I should have. Which probably would have insulted her had she been telling the truth.

“
No, not really. Now would you guess for real?” she asked, smiling again.

“
Okay. You seem really smart. Well educated. But that doesn't mean you can't be pumping gas down the street.”

“
Ohhhh, the analytical type. My favorite.”

I grinned, but I kept on going. “You're probably twenty-six, twenty-seven. So if you were a doctor you'd still be going to school. Most likely. Unless you were a genius, which don't get me wrong, I don't think you are one.”

“Don't you know you're not supposed to insult a girl on a first date?” She chuckled to herself.

“
I'm guessing you're a bartender.”

“
A bartender? A fucking bartender? That's your guess?” she asked. Her mouth hung agape. She wasn't mad, she just seemed surprised.

“
What? You're personable and you're funny. That's my best guess.” She just sat there laughing, as if I had just said something hilarious. “What? Was I right?”

“
Hell no.” She took the book she was reading and put it in her book bag. “But you were right the first time.”

I stared at her, this time my mouth hung open. “You liar...” I said. I didn't know it, but I was grinning from ear to ear. Deciding to approach Aurelia was definitely the best decision I made since coming back to New Jersey, which really shouldn't come as any surprise because there was a long list of piss poor ones. Becoming a photographer was on that list. Agreeing to become my uncle's private investigator was another. Oh, and not to mention deciding to infiltrate a cult meeting in the middle of the fucking woods. Yeah, with that list of candidates, approaching a pretty girl in the park is clearly the winner. “A nurse. I knew it. You look like a nurse.”

“You really shouldn't judge a book by its cover, Mr. Naughton.” She shot me a quizzical look.

“
You remembered my last name. I'm impressed, Mrs. Anderson.”

“
It's Miss Anderson, thank you very much,” she replied.

“
Oh,
Miss
.” She giggled. “Say, you don't have an out-of-his-mind, steroid-abusing boyfriend running around here, do you?”

Smirking, she replied, “Uh, no.”

“Good. A brother?” I said, completely not expecting what came next. Instantly, her face transformed. Her smile faded within seconds. It was as if she remembered something she did not want to remember; a traumatizing memory leaked into her brain. The dam which kept it at bay had been broken. Was it something I said? Did I trigger the bad thought? I didn't know, but I immediately became concerned.

“
I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—”

“
It's fine. Really. I just—” she stopped, losing herself in her own thoughts. “I just don't like to talk about family.”

I nodded. “Let's change the subject then. What hospital do you work at?”

“Ah... Benton. It's a mental health facility. Not far from here.” Something about her changed since I inquired about her brother. I felt awful.

“
I know where it is. How long—”

“
You know what, Ritchie? I think I'm going to go. I have a lot of chores. Places to go. People to see,” she told me. She wasn't smiling anymore. “I have to get them done before work. It was great running into you again.”

“
We should do it more often.”

She smiled, but it was more like a wince. “Bye, Ritchie.”

“Oh wait, before you go.” I reached in my pocket and produced a pen. Out of the back pocket of my jeans came a small notebook. I kept it there out of habit. Any writer, whether working on a story or not, always carries one. That or a tape recorder. I was lucky, on this day, to have paper. I jotted my number down. “In case you want to talk, or meet in a completely random place again. Maybe it will be better for the both of us if we knew in advance.”

She took the paper and folded it up, tucking it in her pocket. “Thank you.” For a second I didn't think she had any interest of exchanging numbers. After a brief moment of awkwardness, she grabbed the notebook out of my hand. The pen too. She jotted ten digits down on the pad and handed it back to me. “Until next time,” she said.

“Until next time.”

She turned and walked away as I took her number and tucked it into my wallet.

I left the park with the pictures I wanted, but a part of me still felt unfulfilled.

CHAPTER TEN

There was no answer when I called Cameraland on Wednesday morning. They should have been open by the time I called. In need of film developed, as well as needing to discuss things with Little Chris, I decided to drive over there. I grabbed the Denlax, along with my disposable Kodak, and was out the front door around a quarter past ten.

I arrived at Cameraland in about twenty minutes, speeding the whole way there.

I hopped out of my car and jogged over to the front door. The lights were off and I peered through the glass to see if there was anyone inside. If they were open, they weren't letting anyone know.

“
I think they're going out of business,” a voice said to my right. A woman, almost twice my age, was standing outside the neighboring hair salon, smoking a cigarette. She had a black smock on, so I assumed she worked there. “They haven't really been open in the past few days.” 

“
Have you seen anyone come in or out?” I asked.

“
A few times. The owner never really comes at all. His kid mostly.” She took a drag from her cigarette. “He never really stays longer than fifteen minutes. Why you asking anyway? You a cop? You look like a cop. They in some sort of trouble?” She fired off these questions as if they were one sentence.

“
Not a cop, lady,” I assured her.

“
You sure?” she asked. “Because I don't know anything.”

“
You see that car,” I said, pointing to my piece of shit vehicle. “How many cops you know patrol around in something like that?”

She smirked, then nodded. “So who are you then? A customer? There's gotta be a hundred places that sell cameras and develop film. What's so special about this one?”

The woman was getting on my nerves. She reminded me of my mother. Always sticking her nose in other people's shit, trying to inhale whatever stench she possibly could.

“
If you must know, I'm a friend.” I stopped looking inside and turned to her. “I just haven't heard from Chris in a few days and I was starting to worry.” Which was the truth, as close as I could possibly tell it.

She stamped her cigarette out on the sidewalk. Exhaling a huge cloud of smoke, she nodded, then returned to shop without uttering another word, which was fine by me. I got the feeling she didn't really believe me, but I didn't have the time to convince the hair stylist with a bitchy New Jersey attitude that I wasn't casing the joint or whatever it was she was accusing me of.

I decided to check out the back. I moved along the side of the building and before I turned the corner I saw Little Chris's car parked in the small lot designated for employees of the strip mall's stores. His Mustang took up two spots and I couldn't tell if it was intentional or not.

The first thing I tried was the back door. I felt weird about entering without warning, but I
really
needed to see him. I needed to talk, make things right. I tried the door and it was locked. I knocked. Waited three minutes or so. No answer.

I returned to the front of the store, wondering why I hadn't tried opening the front door to begin with. The place looked closed so I hadn't bothered. But now, knowing Little Chris was inside, I figured I'd give it a try. I turned the knob, pushed open the door, and waited for an alarm to sound. Luckily, none did.

I quickly stepped inside, hoping that Smoke-Face next door didn't see me enter an obviously closed place of business. I didn't turn the lights on for this very reason. It was dark, and I couldn't see too well. The only source of light came in through the glass windows, but the day was cloudy so there was hardly enough of it.

“
Chris?” I walked around the store carefully, trying my hardest not to bump into or trip over anything. The place was a mess; most of the stock was in brown moving boxes. Maybe Smoke-Face was right. They were closing the store. I hoped it wasn't so. I also hoped it wasn't because of the peculiar photos I had developed there. Not that it would make sense, but it was a strange coincidence, the two events being days apart.

I moved toward the counter. The cash register was gone. Had they been robbed? That would explain the mess. Was Chris here when it happened? Did the robber shoot him? Tie him up in the back? Is that why he hadn't answered the phone earlier that morning? My mind swam in these dreadful thoughts.

I looked down at the linoleum floor, hoping to find footprints or a trail of blood that would lead me to answers, like I'd seen on television. However, I found nothing. It was dim, so there could have been some clues left on the floor, but I directed my eyes over the counter, toward the back rooms.

As I walked behind the counter, a scary notion popped into my head. What if they were being robbed at this very moment? What if the robber was still in the place? Maybe he was making Chris open the safe in the office?

Just when I thought it might be a good idea to turn around, and possibly phone the police, a shadowy figure emerged from the back room, a pistol in its hand.

“
Don't fucking move,” the figure urged. He aimed his gun directly at my chest.

I raised my hands, waiting for the bullet to pierce me.

2

I'd never been shot before. Living a few blocks from the ghetto in my first two years in Atlanta, I'd seen some shit go down. Never had a gun drawn on me though. It was a strange feeling, knowing something so tiny could end your life with one gentle squeeze. My knees went weak and for a second I thought they might buckle and send me to the ground. It took all the strength I had to remain footed. My future was now in the hands of a shadowy figure who came forth from the darkness, and into the gray light the dull sky outside provided.

I felt ill.

“
I swear I'll shoot you,” the figure grunted.

I began to recognize the voice. “Chris?” I asked the figure. “Is that you?”

Little Chris stepped into the light. He didn't look well, probably hadn't seen the inside of his eyelids for a few days. Black bags circled his eyes. His hair was matted. There were food stains on his collared shirt. There was a faint, unpleasant smell of body odor, and as he got closer it was evident that taking a shower had no longer been on his to-do list since the last time I saw him. The gun trembled in his hands when I started to put my arms down.

“
Chris look at me,” I said. “I haven't come here to harm you.”

“
What are you!” he screamed, aligning the gun with my head.

“
What the hell kind of question is that?” I asked. “I'm just a guy, Chris. I'm a human being. What do you think I am?” I didn't really want to know his answer. It was clear that Little Chris had gone bonkers. He probably thought I was from another planet, or... another world. A world where people can appear and disappear inside photographs.

“
Those pictures...” he started to say. His mouth was trembling. The gun wavered in his hand. For a second I thought he would drop it. I contemplated bull rushing him, hoping to hit him with enough force to dislodge the weapon. I had quickness on my side, that was for sure. “They're... not human. Are they? That man... he isn't human. Right? Tell me I'm right...” Tears teetered on the brink of his eyes. “Tell me I'm right!” he screamed, loud enough that Smoke-Face next door might have heard.

“
Honestly, I don't know. All I know is that I saw the same thing you did,” I said. The standoff became more and more tense. I could feel something tug at my chest. Then I remembered my medicine, and how I forgot to take it that morning. I guess with everything on my mind concerning the pictures, taking that stupid pill had slipped. “It got to me too, Chris. It freaked me the fuck out. I came here to see you. To see how you were holding up. And maybe... I don't know. Talk things out. I think we need to help each other make sense of this whole thing.” Whatever was tugging at my chest worsened. I felt my heart take off. The beating grew louder and louder, as if my heart had been inside my head. I rubbed my chest, hoping to calm myself.

“
Who are you?” Chris asked.

“
My name is Ritchie Naughton. And I think my camera is possessed.”

The gun was still trembling in Chris's hand when I started to feel lightheaded. My heart throbbed rapidly. My chest became a chamber my heart no longer wanted to be prisoner of.  

“You have to believe me,” I said. I felt my lungs tighten. Found it hard to breathe. “I... don't feel... so well...” I said, putting my hands on the counter so I wouldn't lose my balance. Weirdness passed through me. I mumbled something, then lost it. The room twirled four or five times before I completely lost my balance and fell to the floor.

Everything went black.

3

For the second time in the past few months, I awoke in a hospital bed, the constant and steady beep of expensive machinery ringing in my ears. To the right side of my bed, stood Chris Pickens Jr., arms folded across his protruding chest, a grave look on his face. I didn't feel any pain. In fact, I didn't feel anything at all except an uncomfortable stiffness which crept into my arms, legs, and neck. I didn't know how long I had been laying there.

“I feel awful about this Mr. Naughton,” Little Chris said. I could tell by his voice that he'd been crying.

“
Where am I?” I asked. I rubbed my eyes and realized I had a pulse sensor wrapped around my fingers, which connected me to the EKG machine, the source of the beeping.

“
Doctor said your heart almost stopped,” Little Chris said.

I nodded. Without going into great detail, I explained what happened a few months ago.

“Your friend is on her way,” Little Chris told me, after I had finished my abridged story.

“
My sister?”

“
No. Aurelia.”

I looked at him, confused.

“Did I do something wrong, Mr. Naughton?”

“
No... just...” Then it hit me. I still had Aurelia's number in my wallet.

“
The nurse said your emergency contact was a Lynne Bradley in Atlanta. There wasn't any answer when they called. They found Aurelia's number in your wallet. I told them I'd call her. So I did,” Chris informed me. “I hope that's all right.”

“
She's coming?” I asked anxiously. “Here?”

“
That's what she said.” Chris looked me, narrowing his eyes. “Is that okay?”

I smiled. “Yes.”

A doctor popped in about ten minutes after I woke up. We had a brief conversation about my last experience. He told me I need to be more conscious about taking my medicine, or I might not be so lucky next time. I told him I would and he told me to relax, that I'd be ready to go home in a few hours.

I waited until I thought most of the doctors and nurses were out of earshot before I turned to Chris. “Where's my bag?” I asked.

“
I think it's still at the shop. I don't remember taking it with us in the ambulance. I don't know. It all happened so fast,” he replied.

“
Find it. Inside you'll find two cameras,” I told him. “One is a disposable. One is the camera I've been using to take my pictures. It's the Denlax.”

“
Denlax?” he asked. “Never heard of it. Is that a brand name?”

I know he had seen the camera before, back when I first started coming to Cameraland, but he must have forgotten. “Your guess is as good as mine,” I said. “In any case, I think it's the camera that caused those pictures to... well, whatever is going on with them. I think it's the camera's fault.”

“How is that possible?”

“
I don't know. But we have to find out if it's definitely the camera. That's why I took the same pictures with two different cameras. To compare.”

“
Wait,” Chris said, “hold up. What's this
we
stuff?” 

He was right. It was unfair to drag him into this. “I need you, Chris. You saw what that camera is capable of. I mean, shit, you discovered it! Aren't you at least curious as to what it can do. Or what it can show us?”

I saw in his eyes that he was indeed curious. “Yeah, but at the same time... the possibilities scare the shit out of me.”

“
Me too. But we can do this together. Take the film and develop them. See if there is anything different between the pictures from the Denlax and the ones from the disposable. When I get out of here—which will be soon—we'll look at them together.”

It took a minute for Chris to respond. Fear made him reluctant to help me. But like me, curiosity would soon get the better of him, and he would say yes. Curiosity is a cruel bastard sometimes.

“Okay, I'll do it. But only because I feel bad for pulling a gun on you.”

I nodded. 

A knock on the painted molding came from outside of the room. I turned my head and saw Aurelia, standing in the open doorway. She looked prettier than previous occasions. Her appearance seemed intentional. I noticed she was wearing makeup, which was new. I wasn't huge on makeup, but it definitely enhanced her looks. Her hair was curly at the ends, looking professionally done. Even Little Chris was enamored. He was practically drooling as she walked by, heading to the foot of my bed.