Chapter 1 – Chap 1

I glanced down as my phone buzzed on the countertop. Being somewhat of a recluse, I never really got any phone calls, so it wasn’t too much of a surprise to see that the number was unknown. Tentatively I picked up the phone and cleared my throat. “Hello?”

A cheerful yet cigarette-cracked voice rasped in my ear, startling me. “Hi, I’m looking for Maryann DeLuca.”

“Um, speaking?”

“Miss DeLuca, this is Jeanette from Whispering Hills Assisted Living calling. I looked over your application for the full time night shift PCA position and I think you’d be an excellent candidate. I’d like you to come in for an interview.”

My mind spun in confusion. I HAD been putting in applications for night shift work at various places because the less human interaction the better, but try as I might, I couldn’t recall answering any ads for a place called Whispering Hills. I opened my mouth to say as much and was even more surprised at my response. “Okay. When did you want me to come in?”

“Today if possible,” she answered. “We lost one of our overnight girls and are extremely short-staffed now. In fact, if everything checks out, I’d like you to start tomorrow night.”

“Sure!” I replied, feeling excitement bubbling in my chest. “Where is your facility located?”

“We’re located just outside Deliverance Falls, right on the left-hand side of the intersection at the Crossroads.”

I frowned, feeling my excitement waning just a tiny bit. I knew where the Crossroads were. Hell, everybody in town knew of the Crossroads. The rumors that circulated were too numerous to count, but the most infamous rumor was that if one were to stand directly in the center of the Crossroads at exactly 3:33AM, they would be transported to Hell and never be seen again. It was said that standing in just the right spot at just the right time was an unspoken invitation for the devil to come collect one’s soul. But I’d never seen an old folks’ home there before. Or maybe I’d just never looked hard enough.

I shook off the building anxiety with a brisk shiver. Those were silly high school rumors; I was a grown ass woman, after all, and much too old to give into childish fears. “I can be there in about…half an hour or so, if that works.”

“Wonderful!” Jeanette exclaimed, voice cracking a bit. “Just remember to bring two forms of ID, and I’ll see you in just a little bit.” She hung up the phone amid a flurry of raspy coughs, leaving me to stand there just staring at my phone like an asshole. With a shake of my head, I hurried off to get dressed for my interview.

On my way to Whispering Hills, I stopped at the local Qwik-Mart for my favorite drink as I always did. My mouth was so dry; even though I really needed this job, the mere prospect of having to actually conversate face to face with someone had me anxious. I grabbed a cold bottle of Mountain Dew and headed up to the counter to pay. The clerk, an ancient Indian man named Dhabi that seemed to practically live there, glanced up from his paper when I approached the counter and smiled brightly, revealing only two or three half-rotten.

“It will eat you alive.”

My mouth dropped open at his words. “W-what did you say?” I stammered, my heart springing an erratic beat in my chest.

He blinked, smile fading just a hair. “I said ‘that’ll be $1.95’.”

“Oh. Okay. Sorry,” I mumbled, not wanting to meet his eyes. “I thought you said something else.” I pushed two dollars across the counter, snatched my drink and turned to walk away, but not before he grasped my arm with shockingly cold fingers. His blazing brown eyes bored into mine with what seemed like desperation.

“Have you seen the Wanderer yet?”

“No,” I replied breathlessly, attempting to pry his fingers from my arm. “Who’s the Wanderer?” Dhabi didn’t answer, only let me go and immersed himself in his newspaper again. Unable to extract any other answers from him, I gave up and headed back out to my car. There was only one other car at the pumps, a soccer-mom van with a plump blonde woman standing there watching the pump. She smiled when she spotted me and waved, so I waved back, but her next words chilled me to the bone.

“Have you seen the Wanderer yet?” she called cheerfully. My tongue felt frozen to the roof of my mouth, and instead of answering, I simply shook my head no and slid into the driver’s seat, suddenly eager to get driving again. I was already freaked out and I didn’t want to be late for my interview.

I pulled cautiously up to the Crossroads, glancing around. Rumors, sure, but all rumors came from some kind of truth, didn’t they? The sun was still pretty high in the sky yet, somewhat dissipating the tightness that had formed in my chest, and sunlight dappled the smooth roads in shades of yellow and orange. I willed my heart to slow down as I spotted Whispering Hills Assisted Living nestled comfortably at the intersection. It wasn’t a very big place, but it seemed welcoming enough. It was painted in a bright cheery yellow the shade of the sun, with freshly painted dark green shutters that framed crisp and clear panes of glass. Even the front door was its own work of art; more clear glass decorated the inside of an intricately carved design that spanned the length of the door.

I parked my car in one of the designated visitor spots and leaned over to rummage through my glovebox for my driver’s license and birth certificate. I was so engrossed in my search that I didn’t see the figure slide up to my window. The unexpected hard quick knocks on the glass caused me to shriek and spill everything out of my hands before I jerked my head wildly towards the source of the sound.

There stood a withered old man, nearly folded in half over a dirty wheeled walker. His skin was an alarming shade of gray and when he smiled, amicably enough as it were, he revealed gums that were black and rotten and likely hadn’t seen a tooth since the cavemen drew their first paintings. His body was small, thin and frail and shook with the effort to keep himself upright; yet his hands, in wild contrast, were huge, with long crooked fingers that ended in thick yellow talons. Wisps of feathery white hair drifted lazily around pale gray skin stretched much too tightly over his skull, and his eyes….oh, Lord, his eyes…they were coated with a white milky film, only a suggestion of what used to be blue underneath, but as I gaped at him, I got the distinct impression that he could see more than I’d originally thought.

He waited patiently until I rolled down my window and leaned down as far as his trembling body would allow and spoke. His voice, yet another contrast to his frail demeanor, was deep, hearty and booming, but as he spoke, his breath wafted over my nostrils with the stink of a thousand unwashed socks. I struggled not to cringe under the malodorous stench of his rancid breath.

“Got a cigarette?” he asked pleasantly. I shook my head, unwilling to open my mouth for fear the cloying breath would eek its way down my throat and suffocate me. He shrugged, suggesting that he expected my answer. “Ah, probably just as well,” he chuckled. “Oughta quit anyway. Them things’ll kill ya.” He burst into laughter, sending more waves of practically tangible filth rolling towards my sensitive nose, then cut himself off abruptly, leaning towards my window even further. “Did ya see the Wanderer yet?”

My heart leaped up into my throat at the already familiar question, and for a moment, I forgot about the old man’s breath. “No. Who is the Wanderer?” The old man appeared as if he was going to answer, but clapped his mouth shut when a woman appeared out of nowhere on the front porch.

“Benny,” she scolded, descending the steps and shaking her finger at him as if he were a naughty dog. “You know better than to disturb our visitors.” I instantly recognized the raspy voice as belonging to Jeanette and was relieved to see that she looked…well, normal. Her iron-gray hair was done up in a severe bun, framing an angular face with sharply protruding cheekbones and thin lips that seemed to all but disappear as she glared disapprovingly at the old man. Underneath her stylish black business suit, her body was hard, thin, and devoid of any womanly curves, yet when she turned her attention away from Benny and favored me with a brilliantly white-toothed smile, she suddenly looked like the friendliest person in the world.

I stepped out of my car and stood up as she extended an equally thin hand towards me. “You must be Maryann. I didn’t expect such a pretty one this time. Welcome to Whispering Hills.” She glared once more at Benny, who was cowering slightly under the force of her gaze, then turned and strode swiftly away, heels clicking sharply on the concrete. “Please, follow me,” she said. As I followed behind her almost meekly, I raised my head and was immediately transfixed by a red rash-like patch that positively covered the back of her neck. It was filled with hundreds of tiny little blisters and pustules and seemed to be almost crawling there. Not wanting to be impolite, I tore my eyes away as we stepped into Whispering Hills. Maybe it was just an allergic reaction.

As soon as my eyes adjusted to the lower levels of light, I was stunned by what I saw. In comparison to the fresh look of the outside, the inside of the facility was absolutely horrendous. A fair layer of grime and dust coated every available surface, and the thin carpet, which once used to be some shade of off-white, was now a dark dingy gray and worn through to hardwood in some places with the passing of probably hundreds of wheels and feet. The glass that made up the window of the nurses’ station had been smashed out and only broken shards remained. Most surprising of all, there were no residents to be seen, minus old Benny, who had followed us in and perched on an old threadbare couch, looking our way. Jeanette seemed oblivious to all this as she herded me past all the dismaying filth and ushered me into a relatively normal yet extremely cluttered and tiny office. She gestured to the single chair that sat on the other side of the desk, and after quickly inspecting the seat to make sure it wasn’t dirty, I sat down and waited while she seated herself.

She folded her hands on her desk and cleared her throat. “First off, again, welcome to Whispering Hills. Allow me to apologize for the current state of things. We had a housekeeper, but she went on maternity leave and never came back. The girls of course all pitch in, but now with being down one girl, we’re really struggling. That’s why I’m so glad you were willing to come in.”

She took a breath before continuing. “We currently have twenty seven residents that live here, nine in each wing. Most of them are fairly independent, but there are the occasional few that need our help more than most.” She looked down at her folded hands. “Our residents here are all in their last stages of life. Most if not all of them will die here. You as a PCA will be responsible for helping to make them as comfortable as possible. Your nightly duties will include completing assigned laundry, some housekeeping, and general rounds.”

Jeanette opened her mouth to say more, but suddenly, a blood-curdling scream echoed through the silent facility from somewhere down one of the darkened wings. My heart leaped into my throat and I had to force myself to remain seated. “What was that?” I gulped.

Jeanette sighed. “I’m sorry. That happens from time to time. One moment they’re fine, and then out of nowhere they remember that they’re dying and they can’t handle it. Then a few minutes later they forget again.” She paused as the scream died away to be replaced once more by the heavy silence, and from the living room, I could hear Benny coughing, a wet gurgly hack.

“So do you have any questions?” Jeanette rasped, leaning back in her seat and gazing at me.

My thoughts spun wildly, and all of a sudden, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to be here anymore. This was just too creepy for me and I wanted out. Jeanette must have seen the look on my face, because she said softly, nearly pleading, “I can see your hesitation, but…we really do need help here. I’m prepared to offer you 25 an hour to start, including the differential for night shift, and more if you stay longer than a week.”

At this comment, I could only gawk at her, my fear temporarily forgotten. 25 an hour…for this? I desperately needed the money and I would never get better pay anywhere else for this kind of work. Okay, so the place was horribly creepy in a forgotten kind of a way. In a way, all facilities like this were. But there was almost no interaction, which I strongly preferred, and the pay was just too amazing to pass up. I stood up and extended my hand. “I accept!”

She smiled and shook my hand, but I couldn’t help but notice that her smile never reached her eyes, which looked at me with worry and just a hint of fear. “Then if you have no further questions, let’s get this paperwork out of the way.”

Fifteen minutes later, I stepped out of her office, the newest employee of Whispering Hills. Benny was still sitting on that couch, but turned his head when Jeanette and I emerged. “So didja get the job?” he asked.

“Yes,” I replied. “I’m the new night shift employee. I’m Maryann. And you’re Benny.” He laughed at this, then nodded his head.

“Nice to meetcha,” he told me before struggling to his feet and disappearing off down the west wing.

Jeanette walked me to the front door, and honestly, even though I felt uncharacteristically excited at the prospect of my new job, a wave of relief washed over me as I stepped onto the front porch. I turned and smiled. “Thanks again, Jeanette,” I said. “I really appreciate this.”

She flashed me another tight smile. “And we appreciate you, Maryann. We’re happy to have you on board.”

I nodded and turned to leave, but a question flashed through my mind. “Jeanette?”

“Yes? Did you have a question?”

“I did.” I took a deep breath. “Benny said something when I first got here.” I looked up at her, her face partially obscured by the shadow of the porch’s overhang. “Who is the Wanderer?”

At the mention of the Wanderer, her face seemed to completely shut down and I saw the color drain from her face. She took a shaky breath. “Never mind, Maryann,” she answered. “Hopefully you never have to meet him.” She sighed, then favored me with one last thin smile. “I know I’ve said this before, but…welcome to Whispering Hills.” Before she closed the door, she added, “Your shift starts at 11PM, but you would be wise to be here by 10:45. There are some…quite undesirable people that live in this area and I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.” She gave me a quick wave. “See you tomorrow night.” With that, the heavy front door swung shut and Jeanette was gone.

As I drove back home, my mind swirled with the multitude of questions I hadn’t asked nor received answers to. Had I simply forgotten putting an application in at Whispering Hills? What was Benny’s story? Was the pay really worth the creep factor? Why weren’t any other residents out of their rooms? And most importantly of all, who was the Wanderer and why did Jeanette seem so afraid? Little did I realize that I would soon get the answers to all my questions, and in a manner that I would never forget.