Author: Ron Ripley
Category: Horror
Go to read content：https://onlinereadfreenovel.com/ron-ripley/page,5,422170-middlebury_sanitarium_moving_in_series_book_3.html
“Gentlemen,” Ken said, and Brian heard the nervousness in the older man’s voice. “May I ask what you’re doing here?”
The one who had spoken chuckled. “Eating, Kenneth. Eating. We find it easier to eat this meal here than in our own homes.”
The man’s partners nodded in agreement even as they continued their talk.
“You do know the crematorium is closed?” Ken asked.
“No,” the speaker said, honestly surprised. “We did not. It’s so rare we get to eat anymore. Especially like this. There was a time, Kenneth when Middlebury was extremely productive. We ate like this every week. Delicacies such as you couldn’t imagine.”
“What are you eating?” Brian asked.
The speaker smiled slyly. “Incredibly fresh meat. A liver. A pair of kidneys. Mm, and a tongue. Again, rarities now.”
“From what?” Brian asked even as Ken took a step back.
“Not from what,” the speaker chuckled. “From whom.”
“From whom then?” Ken asked.
“Well, Kenneth,” the speaker said, “I am not aware of the gentleman’s name. One of your coworkers. He had a disturbing habit of smoking far too much cannabis than I would have prescribed.”
Ken stiffened. “You’ll have to leave.”
“Once we’re finished,” the speaker said. He looked at Brian. “Is he staying long, Kenneth? He looks as though he might be rather tasty.”
Brian didn’t wait for Ken to tell him to run.
He turned and ran.
In the hallway Brian slipped, stumbled forward and crashed into a wall.
He fell and smacked the floor heavily. He staggered out of the building, fell down and rolled onto his back.
Snow fell on his face, and Ken knelt beside him.
“Brian,” Ken said. “Brian, are you okay?”
Brian nodded and let out a groan. His body ached. “Everything hurts, though.”
He struggled to sit up, and Ken helped him.
The light was out in the crematorium.
“Are they gone?” Brian asked.
“I don’t know if they’re gone,” Ken said grimly, “but I think they’re done eating for now. Think you can walk?”
“Got to,” Brian said. He tried to take a step and suddenly pain exploded through him.
He bit back a scream as his eyes threatened to implode. Something pushed in his head, as though a great force wished to enter, to crush his brain within his skull and fill it with itself. He swayed on his feet, pressed his hands against his eyes and choked back vomit.
A gift, a stranger’s thought invaded his own. A gift.
The pain became manageable and Brian dropped his hands and looked around.
Leo? Brian thought, searching within his thoughts.
Yes, he had heard Leo’s voice.
But what gift? Brian thought. And then he stood, shocked at what he saw.
“Oh Jesus,” Brian whispered.
“What is it?” Ken asked. “What’s wrong?”
“The dead,” Brian said. “I can see the dead. They’re everywhere.”
Chapter 16: The Residents of Middlebury Sanitarium
Brian’s head pulsed with pain. He stood just outside of the crematorium with Ken to his left. In front of Brian, however, and in his peripheral vision, Brian saw the dead.
Not one or two.
Not a dozen, or two dozen.
Perhaps a hundred. Maybe even more.
The blood in his veins threatened to push his eyes out of their sockets.
A few of the dead observed him with interest and curiosity.
Only a few, though.
The others were mad.
All of them.
Some shook where they stood, arms and legs uncontrollable. They nodded their heads far too quickly while even more squatted on the ground and rocked back and forth.
“Is there a safe place here?” Brian asked.
“My house is the safest place on the grounds,” Ken said.
“I need to get there. Please.”
Some of the dead stepped towards him. All of them were silent. Brian felt like he had walked into a conversation he shouldn’t be a part of.
“Stay close.” Ken said.
“You got it,” Brian answered. He took his gloves off and stuffed them into his pockets, and then he put his hands in as well.
He needed his rings free.
Ken walked quickly, and then he groaned and started to limp.
“Are you okay?” Brian asked.
“Fine,” Ken said through clenched teeth. He pressed a hand to his right hip and kept moving along the path.
Snow started to fall, and the dead closed ranks. One ghost took the lead. A middle-aged man dressed in a security guard’s uniform. He moved close enough for Brian to read the name tag.
Fenton.
“Going to Ken’s place?” the ghost Fenton asked.
“Yes,” Brian answered.
“What?” Ken asked.
“Talking to a ghost, Ken,” Brian said.
“What? Oh. Okay.”
Fenton chuckled. “He’s a good boy. A little older now. You tell him Ike says hello, alright?”
“Yes,” Brian said.
“And you let him know,” Fenton said, his voice becoming grim, “we never leave this place. Never. The King is waiting for him, Brian. The King is waiting, and he grows impatient.”
Chapter 17: Ken, May 11th, 1980
Something wasn’t right.
Ken stood still near the rear entrance to the cemetery. He turned the volume down on the new handheld radio he had been issued, and closed his eyes. He listened, and waited.
His heartbeat slowed and kept a smooth, steady rhythm. A chill wind moved swiftly around him and carried with it the sweet smell of rain. A few cries and screams worked their way out of the various buildings, normal for Middlebury. Yet the sound he had heard, the noise Ken waited to hear again, it hadn’t been part of the night’s tableaux.
Ken let his body relax.
He could wait.
Middlebury had taught him to be patient. The Sanitarium had shown him how to talk peacefully with a disturbed resident who had escaped the confines of their room. Ken had learned to let dark shadows pass and leave some questions unanswered.
This sound, though, was different.
And it repeated. From the boneyard.
Ken opened his eyes and walked into the cemetery. He moved towards the noise.
“Why are you here, Kenneth?” a voice asked.
He paused and tried to identify it.
Male.
Ken continued on his way. A tall obelisk took form, released slowly from the shadows.
“Kenneth,” the voice said again. “Don’t you want to know how I am privy to your name?”
Ken kept his eyes on the monument.
“Everyone knows my name,” Ken said. “Why shouldn’t you?”
Something cold raced past him, ripping the breath from his mouth.
“I’m not anyone,” the voice said, coming from ahead of Ken. “I’m everyone. All of them. All of you.”
“How long have you been here?” Ken asked, after he caught his breath.
“Longer than most. Less than some.”
“Not helpful at all, chief,” Ken said. He turned slightly. He wanted to come up at an angle on the obelisk.
The voice chuckled happily. “It wasn’t meant to be.”
“Oh,” Ken said.
“What are you looking for, Ken?” the voice asked.
“Whatever made the noise,” Ken answered.
“Ah, you heard the birthing,” the voice said. “You heard it being born.”
Ken stopped a dozen yards away from the stone. “What did I hear being born?”
“Agony. Regret. Shock. Horror,” the voice said. “All of these things. Everything dark and terrible. A purity. Is it not so?”
“I don’t know about pure,” Ken said. He took his radio out, turned the volume up and key
ed it. “Ken to base.”
“This is base,” Cole said. “Go ahead, Ken.”
“In the boneyard, Cole,” Ken said.
“Resident?”
“Not this side of the grave.”
Cole paused, and then he answered, “Do you need assistance?”
“No, just giving you my location,” Ken said, eyeing the obelisk warily. “Just in case.”
“Yeah, I copy, Ken,” Cole said. “Give me a shout in five, alright?”
“Yup,” Ken said. “Out.”
Ken put the radio back. He waited for the voice to chime in, but the ghost didn’t.
Okay, Ken thought, taking a deep breath. Let’s see what we have.
Ken didn’t give himself a chance to think twice. Instead, he moved quickly to the side of the obelisk, and then he came to a sharp, sudden stop.
A child sat on the grass and looked up at him.
A little girl. Perhaps six, maybe seven. Her hair was blonde and ragged. Black circles under her eyes and the irises nearly swallowed by the pupils. Blue veins moved beneath her pale skin, and she wore a white hospital gown. In her hands, she held a stuffed toy. A black and white terrier.
The girl’s eyes never left his face.
The wind picked up and blew her hair into her thin face. She tucked the wayward strands behind an ear.
Jesus, Ken thought. He squatted down and smiled at her. “Hello.”
She smiled back at him, her teeth nearly translucent.
“My name’s Kenneth.”
“I know your name!” she suddenly snarled, and Ken fell back onto his rear.
The girl leaped to her feet and dropped her animal. She clenched her fists and bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. “We all know your name, Kenneth.”
Ken tried to get to his feet, but she screamed at him again. The sound punched him in the chest, and he landed spread-eagle on his back.
The girl jumped towards him, and Ken rolled out of the way.
She roared in fury and twisted to face him.
Ken got to his feet and tried to gather his thoughts.
She didn’t give him time to.
She opened her mouth and howled. The headstones around him exploded, and Ken screamed as they struck him. Something burned in his right hip, and he bit back on a second scream as it threatened to burst his throat.
He could feel blood rushing down his leg as he collapsed.
The girl dropped down low, stayed on her feet and fell forward onto her hands. She crawled towards him. Blood dripped from her lip as she grinned at him.
“Kenneth. Kenneth,” she laughed. “Yes. I know your name, Kenneth.”
Her body faded slowly until nothing remained.
Ken bit back the pain, forced himself to sit up and took out the radio. He keyed the handset, found he couldn’t speak, and he hit the button five more times.
Five was his emergency number.
“On our way, Ken,” Cole said.
Ken dropped the radio and looked around him. Three headstones were shattered. Granite littered the grass. The girl’s stuffed terrier lay by the obelisk. The toy had a collar around its neck, and a tag caught the moonlight.
He could see a word etched upon the dog’s medallion, and he squinted in the light to read it.
Kenneth.
Chapter 18: In Ken’s House
They sat in silence.
At Brian’s request, Ken pulled the blinds down and turned on all of the lights. There was no television to turn on. No radio. The small house was clean and austere with a few books scattered about.
Brian could hear the dead whispering through the walls.
“How are you holding up?” Ken asked.
“Trying to get a grip on it,” Brian said. “It’s strange.”
“I can imagine,” Ken said. He grunted as he shifted his right leg and put it up on the footstool.
“Are you okay?” Brian asked the older man.
Ken grinned and nodded. “Old injury.”
“Work related?” Brian said.
“Yes,” Ken answered. “Yes, it is.”
“Do you mind if I send a text?” Brian asked.
“No,” Ken chuckled, “but thank you. You know, I see people with their phones in town all of the time. Seems like they never stop.”
“Yeah,” Brian said. “I have to watch myself with it. Gets addictive.”
He took the phone out of his coat and sent a quick text to Jenny.
Hey, Babe, this place is hot. Any help on the way? Want to get the gear set-up and safe home as soon as possible. Love you.
Several more minutes of silence passed between Brian and Ken before Jenny’s response came through.
Be safe. Anne will be there in the morning. I gave her your number, Babe. BE SAFE. I love you.
“Everything okay?” Ken asked.
“Yeah,” Brian said, putting the phone away. “I’ll be getting more help in the morning.”
“You’re not leaving?” Ken asked, surprised.
Brian shook his head.
“Why not?”
“I’ve got to finish documenting this place,” Brian said.
“You haven’t got enough?”
“I don’t even know what I have from the nurse’s house,” Brian said. “Probably won’t be able to check it until the morning. I need to capture evidence, though, and I want to set up at the cemetery and the crematorium.”
Ken sighed, rubbed the back of his head and then he said, “We’ll want to get you into the library then.”
“Is it active in there?” Brian asked.
Ken gave him a tight smile. “Yes. Yes, it is. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to call in about Dan.”
Brian nodded, and Ken stood up and walked gingerly to the kitchen. The man closed the door behind him.
Brian leaned his head back and closed his eyes. They’re so strong here.
His stomach rumbled, and visions of the feast in the crematorium flashed in his memory. Brian’s desire to eat fled.
With a groan, he opened his eyes and straightened up. The pain in his head settled into an angry grumble, and he wondered if the house was truly safe.
A few minutes passed and then Ken opened the door.
“I just called, Carl,” Ken said as he sat down. “They’re sending out a search team, but they won’t find anything.”
“Nothing at all?” Brian asked.
Ken shook his head.
“Others have disappeared?” Brian said.
“Yes,” Ken answered. “Over the years. Here and there.”
“Always guards?” Brian asked.
“Lord no,” Ken sighed. “A few. Isabella still has several of them, at least I think she does. She keeps their spirits trapped in her house. And, Brian, Isabella, she’s terrible. She and won’t give up the ones she’s taken. Others have been killed. Guards, and residents alike. “Mysterious deaths,” according to the State Police. My first and only partner here, his was listed as mysterious.”
“Why?” Brian said.
“Well,” Ken said, tapping the arm of his chair, “he somehow managed to throw himself out of a fourth-floor window.”
“And him going out a window was mysterious?”
“It had bars on it,” Ken said evenly.
“Oh,” Brian said, and then he added, “did you know a man named Ike Fenton?”
Ken stiffened. “Yes, I did. Why?”
“I was talking to him on the way here. He said to tell you something about the King. But my head’s fuzzy,” Brian said, shaking his head to emphasize the point, “and I can’t remember exactly what it was.”
“The King?” Ken asked in a low voice.
Brian nodded.
“You better get what you need and get it done tomorrow, son,” Ken said. “If the King’s coming back, well, there’s going to be hell to pay.”
“Who is he?” Brian asked.
“He’s the King,” Ken said. “The Sanitarium is his, and through his faithful he rules with an
iron fist.”
Chapter 19: Building Three, Middlebury Sanitarium, November 2nd, 1982
Ken shook the match out and dropped it into the ashtray by the bench. He took several long pulls on the pipe to make sure it was lit, and he enjoyed the fine, full flavor of the Virginia blend. Gus had brought it back from visiting his grandchildren in Washington, DC and Ken was extremely thankful.
“Ken!” Sean’s voice barked from the radio.
Ken rolled his eyes, took the pipe out of his mouth and said, “Go ahead.”
“Are you near Building Three?”
“No,” Ken said, becoming alarmed and looking out over the property. “What’s wrong?”
“The alarms are going off on the doors and no one’s answering the phones.”
Ken started to jog in the direction of Building Three. “Where are the other two teams?”
“Still chasing down the kid who got out of Building Two half an hour ago,” Sean said, a note of panic creeping into his voice. “Their radios are here, Ken.”
“Why are their radios there?” Ken asked, but even as the question formed he knew the answer.
Middlebury wanted the radios there.
Middlebury had let the teenager out to run loose.
Middlebury knew Ken patrolled alone.
Ken started to run. “On my way!”
He held onto the radio in one hand and the pipe in the other. Tobacco embers trailed behind him. Each flared for a brief moment.
Ken passed Building Four, and he heard the laughter from it. On the fourth floor, he caught a glimpse of something in the window, and he ignored it. Ahead of him, Building Three was brightly lit, and then it plunged into darkness.
A shadow swallowed it completely, and then a light appeared at the bottom.
A door had opened.
Someone waited for Ken.
He aimed himself at the door.
Screams erupted from the darkened building and far behind him Ken heard malicious laughter. The nameless little girl from the cemetery stood beneath an elm tree, stuffed terrier in her hand.
She glared at him and wept tears of blood in her rage.
And then Ken was in Building Three.
The door closed gently behind him.