The Dead Don't Speak | Open Novella Contest 2020 | ✔

Chapter 9: The Forgotten Block

"I can't see well… Hold on."

The tunnel's exit was located in one of the Forgotten Block's numerous abandoned cells, hidden away underneath a bunk bed stacked with filthy mattresses. Liz managed to crawl out from under it, but not before accidentally kicking some of the wet dirt that had attached itself to her shoes into my face. She mumbled exactly five hasty apologies as I sputtered and struggled my way up to the cell, too, wringing my body in quite a few unnatural angles to get there.

It wasn't an experience I'd recommend.

It was quiet in the cell and the only light came from bright rays of sunlight seeping in through a barred window, illuminating my face and making me squint. The lingering stench of cigarette smoke burned in my nose and the walls around us were covered in mould and messy scribblings in an ominous black colour: cartoonish doodles and curse words, gibberish and long-forgotten names and misspelled Bible quotes.

"I think I'm going to celebrate my birthday party here," I said, taking in my surroundings with a look of disgust. "You're invited. We'll have contraband cake."

Liz snorted, prodding at a discarded syringe on the floor with her foot. "Amazing idea. Let's see if the rest of this clusterfuck of a place is suitable for parties."

I followed her out of the cell, going in with aesthetic expectations lower than prices in a dollar store and pretty much setting the bar so low it touched the ground. The Forgotten Block dug a hole below it regardless.

Stinging smoke mixed with the reek of decay in the mucky corridor. Trash of all kinds littered the floor: candy wrappers, empty cans of energy drinks, crushed cigarettes, all covered in a blanket of dust. Some dim lights were still on, while others flickered dangerously and a few had stopped functioning altogether, resulting in the occasional damp, dark corner. Old furniture that hadn't been removed yet blocked certain cell doors, strengthening my belief that the Forgotten Block had become a shitty storage room of sorts. Whatever the place had once been, all that remained of it was faded glory.

And in the middle of it all, tall and dark and looming, stood a ghost.

A familiar, sulphuric scent hit me hard, and I grew so nauseous it was difficult not to vomit right then and there. A ghastly, bleached smile glowered at me, chilling me to the bone. Transparent lips curled up into a smile and moved, speaking soundless words, and a long arm stretched out in our direction, slender fingers bending as if wanting to pull us forward. Beckoning.

The counselor had come for us, shown his scarred face and haunting evil eye for the first time. While he couldn't have stood there for longer than five seconds, watching his malicious stare felt like an eternity and I doubted I'd ever forget the sight of him. It was clear his death had been a violent one; his murderer had apparently wanted to make very sure the man would never get up again for reasons unknown to me. His bloodstained shirt had been torn open by a knife, gruesome red gashes running all the way up to the counselor's throat and the lower half of his face. If I'd taken a closer look, I could've seen organs, a decaying heart that would never beat again, so deep were the cuts and wounds on his torso.

Liz, unaware of the beckoning monster in the corridor with us, gave me a worried look when I stumbled back in fear. I wondered what it was like to be ignorant of the dead walking among us, to never have to worry about evil spirits in dark corners. But the thought didn't occupy my mind for long, because my attention wandered back to Counselor Taylor with all his wounds and his devilish smile, appearing and vanishing again before my eyes.

I hadn't expected the ghost to show up there and he'd known it. He'd known his presence would terrify me and he'd made good use of that knowledge. I'd considered myself safe, thinking he couldn't have strayed far from the bathroom in B-block, but I'd forgotten about one crucial detail: a ghost, especially a powerful one, could sometimes leave the place or person it had let itself be bound to and show up near another person or place if it felt a strong enough connection.