Page 10

Chapter Ten

“H elp us! Please help us!”

My eyes popped open to the tune of a child calling for help. The voice raw and filled with fear. I fought to sit up, but when I did there was nothing to see. Nothing but the cold, hard floor beneath me, damp and sticky.

My sluggish heart began to throb in my chest, but I reminded myself to remain calm. It wasn’t as though I hadn’t been scooped up and dropped in Hell before, right? Long story, but well worth remembering I’d been in this position several times.

That led to my next question? Was I in Hell? And if so, why was I in Hell? How did demons get in the middle of this? Was Neerie right when she said the Illuminati ran the school? Was the Illuminati run by demons?

Worse, was I getting ahead of myself? Was I letting all this conspiracy stuff get in my head?

So first order of business, find out where I’d landed.

“Help us! Pleeease, help us!”

Horror crept up my spine. It was hard not to panic when a child was calling for help, but I fought the temptation to give in and scream myself.

Instead, I called out, “Where are you, honey? Who are you?”

“Help! Please hurry!”

Calm. Remain calm, Wanda Jefferson. Do not freak out. But to no avail. The small voice, heart-wrenching and terrified, shredded my insides.

“I’m coming! I’ll find you!” I called back, fighting to keep my fear from seeping into my reassuring words.

And then, like a vortex, I was sucked out of wherever I was, my back pressing against a slick, cool floor.

“Mrs. Jefferson!” I heard another voice call. An adult voice. A familiar adult voice. A hand stroked my cheek. A soft hand, one that smelled of raspberries and eucalyptus. “Mrs. Jefferson, are you all right?”

“Wanda!” That adult voice I knew. Marty. It was Marty. And then Nina.

“Wanda! What the hell is going on?”

My eyes popped open to find Mrs. Goodfellow, her sweet lined face staring down at me as she feathered a caress across my cheek, while Marty and Nina dropped to my side as I lay flat out on my back.

I struggled to get up, but Marty held me in place. “Wait, let me see if you’ve hit your head, honey. Please don’t move.” She ran her fingers along my scalp, checking for abrasions.

Nina held my head, putting it in her lap. She grazed my forehead with her knuckles. “What the hell, Wanda?”

When I opened my mouth to speak, rather than words coming out of my mouth, I cried. I couldn’t stop the tears that fell down my face.

What on earth was happening to me? I felt disjointed, empty, lost.

Mrs. Goodfellow wiped at my cheeks, pulling my other hand to her cheek. “Oh, Mrs. Jefferson, what’s wrong? Tell me how I can help?”

But I couldn’t speak for the voice of that child in my head, calling for help. “I…”

Nina pulled me to her and hauled me up to my feet. “Okay, Wanda. It’s okay. Let’s get you home.”

“Wait!” I croaked, turning to Mrs. Goodfellow, one of the few teachers we hadn’t talked with yet. “I’m sure you heard what’s been going on with Mrs. Lincoln, haven’t you?”

She placed a hand on my arm, her eyes warm. “I have, dear.”

I clung to Nina and my sanity. “Did she ever say anything to you about something strange going on here at the school—or anywhere, for that matter?”

Mrs. Goodfellow looked me in the eye, her worry clear. “Mrs. Lincoln’s…how can I say this politely? An odd duck, yes? She likes things her way, and her way alone.”

“I’ll say,” Nina agreed.

“That said, she never shared anything with me about anything happening here at the school, or anywhere else. She was a good mother, Mrs. Jefferson. A very good one. I wish I had more to help you.”

I fought bursting into sobs right then and there, but I couldn’t manage words.

Marty thanked Mrs. Goodfellow and promised to take care of me before she wrapped my arm around her waist and helped Nina drag me through the halls of the empty school and to the SUV.

I tried to stand up and walk like a lady, but every breath I took, I heard that child’s cry for help, and it felt like a knife to my gut.

I managed to keep it together until we got back to the murder basement, where I promptly fell apart when Arch brought me the sandwich I’d requested.

“Oh, Mistress Wanda! Isn’t this what you requested?” His worried eyes and furrowed brow made me reach for his hand and hold tight, burying my face in his rounded belly.

I began to sob even as I nodded, taking gulps of air to thwart my tears. “It’s… It’s not youuu,” I cried. “I love your BLTs.”

He cradled my head and let me cry it out until I had nothing left but dry heaves.

Inhaling deeply, I leaned back in my chair and gathered myself. “I’m sorry,” were my first coherent words. “I don’t know why that hit me so hard.”

Marty bent at the waist, her blue eyes wide with concern as she pressed a cold cloth to my forehead. “What did happen, honey? What has you so upset?”

“And why were you on the floor outside the boiler room, Wanda? Talk to us,” Nina demanded, kneeling in front of me.

Inhaling deeply, I looked at them, their eyes filled with worry. “The last thing I remember, I was in the supply room. I was checking to see if Agnew had anything in there that might explain the inventory business. Next thing I know, I’m somewhere dark as night and a child is calling for my help. They asked me to help us. Plural. A petrified voice, calling for anyone to help them.”

Simply remembering the sound of their fear almost sent me into another fit of tears, but I forced myself to get it together.

Nina cupped my jaw, her eyes warm and sympathetic. “Aw shit, Wanda. That’s fucked up. Do you remember anything else?”

I shook my head, my misery swelling up in my belly. “No. That was literally all that happened. What I want to know is, how did I get wherever that was, and how do I get back so I can help whoever was calling me? Whoever it was, they were terrified, Nina. I’ll never sleep again with that tiny voice in my head!”

“Okay, listen, slow down, honey,” Marty soothed, pushing my mussed hair out of my face. “You can’t know for sure if the voice was real. Maybe it was someone toying with you. It wouldn’t be the first time someone did that to us.”

I nodded. “You’re right. But what if there really was a child in need of help, Marty? I have to go back!” I tried to stand up so I could go back to the supply closet right that second to see for myself.

“Back to what, Mistress?” Arch, ever the voice of reason, asked. “If what I’m hearing is correct, you don’t know where you were when you heard the child. You cannot go back to a place with no directions. I beg of you, please eat. Take a moment to think about this. Make a plan. Don’t expend all your energy fretting. It’s imperative you stay strong if there is a child involved. Understood? Now, enjoy your sandwich. And put the pieces together as you do.”

He wrapped his arms around my shoulders and gave me a tight hug before retreating back upstairs.

Marty kissed the top of my head. “He’s right, honey. Eat. No interruptions. Then we discuss, okay?”

I nodded, thinking I couldn’t eat a thing. But I wolfed (pardon the pun) the sandwich down, along with the side of potato salad (my favorite) as if I were on death row and it was my last meal.

As I chewed, Marty and Nina began to look closer at the pictures of the whiteboards Neerie had in her kooky basement.

Nina was frowning when I wiped my mouth and cleared up my dishes, sending Arch a text of gratitude. “What’s up?”

Tucking her hands in the pockets of her hoodie, she sent me a skeptical glance. “You up to this, or do you need more time to digest?”

Rising, I headed to our own whiteboard to see whatever Nina appeared to be looking at. “I’m up to it. What did you find?”

“The picture of this alien. Look at it. There’s a timestamp on it. Yeah, it’s blurry. No, I can’t see the background. Yeah, it’s crazy to think, but Wings didn’t get this pic from some magazine or the Internet. It looks like she took it. The date is from two weeks ago, and according to what I sent to Tottington, his friend says the EXIF metadata claims it was taken from an iPhone.”

I frowned. “That was all Greek to me. I don’t understand, and I don’t know if I need to. Does that mean Neerie took the photo with her phone?”

Marty’s eyes went wide as she held up Neerie’s phone. “It does. You know, we can check the location where the pic was taken on her phone.” She began to fiddle with Neerie’s cell.

Of the three of us, I’m the least tech-inclined. Most of what you can do with a cell, other than send texts and take pictures, is beyond my scope.

Marty gasped, holding up the phone. “Look at the map. It says it was taken at the school!”

Oh, Universe, are you going to tell me aliens are real, too?

First it was Bigfoot.

Then it was Melba and her very real visions.

Now aliens?

Stahp!