The Hellandback Kids: Be Careful What You Wish For

  Chris said sarcastically, “Trisha, how would you know what a cocoon felt like?”

  Brittany looked at her sister. “I can’t believe you love all that vampire stuff.”

  “Brittany, it’s better than having a lifelong dream of playing around with deadly viruses. At least my passion looks great in a tux. Besides, you die either way. I’d rather go out with a smile on my face.”

  Brittany rolled her eyes. “Trisha, why do you think someone biting your neck and draining all your bodily fluids would be a sensual way to die?”

  “Brittany, you just don’t understand. Look at him.”

  Brittany went over and looked at the male wax statue, and then over to the young lady that looked like her sister. “Trisha, did you look closely at this manikin?”

  “No. Why?”

  Jon said, “Trisha, it looks like she’s losing volume, as if she’s deteriorating right in front of us.”

  “I’m not going to let Chris ruin this for me.”

  Chris shrugged his shoulders. “Sorry, sis, I haven’t done anything to the dripping wax lady. Maybe Great-Grandfather has something to do with this.”

  Chris spotted a collection plate on the front bench, ran over, and started examining the coins. Although he didn’t know how much money was their due to the fact they were British coins, he already had several visions of what he could purchase when Brittany yelled, “Chris! That is very disrespectful. Put that money down.”

  She went on more quietly. “Who would leave all this money here?”

  Granmama said, “When this was a hospital many years ago, this was the hospital’s chapel. Family and friends of patients—and even some patients—would come here and pray. See? Over in the corner are candles that they could light.”

  Trisha sighed, “The stained glass windows are beautiful. I would love to be married in this chapel. It’s small, but very quaint.” Light seemed to shine through the stained glass, which was strange because it was nighttime.

  Chris started laughing at Trisha. “Don’t you have to have a victim first—I mean, a man to marry you?” He looked at the wax manikin. “Hey Trisha, he looks like your type. He can’t run away.”

  Granmama once again stood up for Trisha. “Don’t worry, Chris. Trisha will find the perfect husband, without even looking.”

  Trisha stuck her tongue out at Chris as he circled his finger by his head to let Trisha know that she was crazy.

  A large cross-hung on the wall above the altar, and several pictures in elaborate frames hung around the room. One of the pictures caught Trisha’s eye. She got out of the coffin and put her shoes on. The portrait showed a woman who looked as if she had lived a hundred years ago. It was painted on canvas. The paint colors looked faded, but still vibrant.

  The woman wore a purple satin dress with lace at the neckline and cuffs. She wore a big pin on her chest. Her purple and dark blue hat matched her dark blue sash. Large black feathers stuck out of the side of the hat, but she looked important, rather than comical, at least according to Trisha.

  Chris thought she looked ridiculous, even for that time period. The woman sat straight and tall, as though a string attached her head to the ceiling. Chris expected her to pop up at any moment. Her hands were folded on her lap with her right hand on top, so you couldn’t see if she was married. Chris had a strong feeling she had to be single, unless all women back then looked like her—not much for a guy to look at. She had brown hair, with some bouncing curl thing on the right side of her head. Her lips were small and thin, her eyes far apart, and she looked like she was at least in her late thirties or early forties. She was no beauty, that was for sure, but as Chris put it, she wasn’t a double bagger either.

  Brittany noticed Trisha studying the woman in the portrait and came over.

  Trisha said, “It looks like they didn’t have makeup back then. Brit, you would fit right in.” Brittany rolled her eyes, but Trisha didn’t notice. She was too busy studying the portrait more closely. “I think the woman in this painting is looking at me.”

  Chris said, “Of course she is looking at you; she is looking at all of us.”

  “No, Chris, I think her eyes are following me.”

  “Trisha, you think everyone is looking at you.”

  Granmama quickly changed the subject. “All these paintings are of the administrator’s family. I will tell you about them when we come to Jon’s room.” As they turned to leave the room, the wax figure that looked like Trisha fell to the floor and withered away.

  Granmama hurried them out the wooden doors before they could see.

  CHAPTER 11

  Granmama walked to the end of the hallway and took a left, pointing to the right as she did. “Jon, your room is at the end of this hall, but for now we are going to see Brittany’s room. Brittany, your room is the only one with an attached bathroom. The rest of you can find the nearest lavatory.”

  Trisha looked down the hallway toward Jon’s bedroom. “Brittany, did you see that?”

  “See what?”

  “I thought I saw a child or a small person or something.”

  Brittany got excited. “See, Trisha, there is something in this place besides us!”

  Chris said, “Why are all of our rooms so far apart?”

  Granmama quickened her pace. “Well, I thought you would all want your space. I’m sure the plane trip over was very cramped, and, at home, Brittany and Trisha have to share a room. Besides, I’ve only gotten the beds ready in these rooms.”

  Chris muttered under his breath, “A sleeping bag and a coffin—I wouldn’t call those beds.”

  Granmama just winked at Chris. She seemed to expect more manners with the other three, but she knew Chris would say the first thing that came to his mind. They stopped in front of a door on the left; a cart stood outside. Brittany looked at the room number and couldn’t believe it. It was room 292, the same as her school locker number!

  The sign on the door read: QUARANTINE in bright red letters, and underneath, in smaller handwritten letters: DRESS APPROPRIATELY.

  Chris asked, “What does ‘dress appropriately’ mean? Does it mean all this?” Chris pointed to the cart filled with paper gowns, caps, masks, footwear, and latex gloves.

  Brittany picked up a glove. “This is modern protective clothing for an isolation room.”

  Trisha said, “Granmama, it seems the rooms you picked for us have been updated.”

  Chris was done with all this by now. He tried to blow up one of the latex gloves. Granmama ignored him and continued talking. “Children, do what I do, and then follow me into Brittany’s room. Oh, and don’t touch anything without your gloves on.”

  Brittany said, “Granmama, you are scaring me!”

  Chris tried to lighten the mood. “Brittany, I always said you were contaminated.” They watched their great-grandmother put on all the isolation gear and quickly followed suit.

  Brittany, with her mask in place, breathed in deeply. “It smells like rain.”

  Chris looked around the room and couldn’t contain himself. “At least you have a bed, even if it’s a hospital bed.”

  “Children, the smell of the rain comes from the recycled air for the isolation room.” Brittany looked around the room. There was a vibrant wall mural covering the wall facing the bed. The mural depicted women in flowing dresses walking through what looked like a market of some type. Chickens ran around with children chasing them, and the buildings looked like those of old England. Brittany walked up to the mural and ran her hand across the wall. She yanked her hand away.

  Jon said, “Brit, what’s wrong?”

  She looked at the mural. “I just felt a strange sensation run through my fingers and up my arm. It wasn’t uncomfortable; it just startled me, that’s all. Mostly it was hot.”

  Jon came over and felt the wall painting—his version of protecting the family. “It feels normal to me.”

  Brittany looked down. “See? That chicken moved! Chris, touch that chicken, the one running fro
m that little boy, the one at the bottom of the mural.”

  “Feels like a wall to me, nothing special. Brit, are you okay?” His sister was acting weird.

  Trisha put her hand on Brittany’s forehead to see if she was running a fever. “You don’t feel warm. I hope you aren’t coming down with something. Did you catch something on the plane trip over here? Maybe a good night’s sleep will help you feel better.”

  Brittany knocked Trisha’s hand off of her forehead and followed the mural around the room, where it became more disturbing. The colors grew darker, the people looked sick, and some even looked dead in the streets. Brittany shivered. She pulled the hospital curtain around her bed to block the disturbing parts of the mural. “That’s better.”

  Granmama said, “Brittany, you have a call bell on the handrails of your bed. All you have to do is push the button, and I will come to see what you need throughout the night.”

  That was it; Chris couldn’t keep his complaints to himself any longer. “Granmama, I’m beginning to think you like me the least. I think I have the most uncomfortable bed, and I have no call button or bathroom in my room.”

  Trisha said, “Chris, I’m sleeping in a coffin!”

  “Yes, but your coffin is nice and comfortable. I have a steel table and a sleeping bag.”

  “Children, let’s go see Jon’s room. Take off your isolation gear, and put everything in the container just before leaving the room.”

  Chris saw an opening to take some latex gloves with him. Granmama must have seen him out of the corner of her eye. “Chris, leave the gloves behind.”

  Chris mumbled half to himself, “How did you know I had the gloves? And how else can I make water balloons later?”

  As Granmama was conversing with Chris, Brittany took another look at her room and the mural. The people on the mural became lifelike. The sick were dragging themselves toward her, begging for help with their British accents. The streets were covered in filth, and rats ran everywhere. The door to the hallway vanished, so she ran into the bathroom and slammed the door.

  She yelled, “Granmama! Jon, Chris!”

  No answer. She fumbled to find the door lock. There wasn’t one. Brittany pressed herself hard against the door, but she was only twelve, and the sickened people were trying to get in. Rats started to appear in the bathroom as she yelled for her granmama and siblings, and once again no answer. There was an old, withered hand that pushed the door open and was trying to grab Brittany.

  She screamed for her granmama once more and heard a voice.

  “Brittany, step away from the door, honey. I’m trying to get in.” It was her granmama. “Brittany, you look a bit strange, dear. Are you all right?”

  Brittany’s brothers and sister were staring at her. Trisha said, “I think she’s sick, Granmama. Maybe she’s having one of her migraines.”

  This was the first time Great-Grandmother doubted her abilities to keep her great-grandchildren safe. It had been so easy with Patrick, the children’s father. She was over thirty years younger then and had help from her husband. Now that she was eighty-three, Alastair, her husband, mainly roamed the halls and spent time in a black hole. He created more problems than solutions by far. Great-Grandmother didn’t know now if she could handle all four of her great-grandchildren at the same time.

  “Brittany, I will get you something if you are feeling ill?”

  “No, Granmama, I’m fine. It’s just been a long week for me. I’ll be fine with a long night’s rest.”

  Great-Grandmother knew Brittany wouldn’t be getting any sleep that night. Maybe Brittany wouldn’t be healthy enough to go on an adventure. She would have to wait and see.

  CHAPTER 12

  They followed Great-Grandmother down the hallway, passing a series of closed doors until they reached a large door with the words “ADMINISTRATIVE OFFICE” stenciled on the glass.

  “We’ve come to your room, Jon. The old administrator’s office,” Great-Grandmother said. The whole room was covered with huge stacks of paper. They blanketed the desk, floor, bookcases, and every other surface. Jon immediately started sneezing, his nose started running, and his eyes were itchy, watery, and turning red.

  He was digging at his eyes when Granmama said, “Jon, I forgot you are allergic to cats.”

  Trisha shouted, “Is there a cat in here?” almost rupturing Chris’s eardrum.

  Brittany, the animal lover, started hunting through the room. “I love cats. We just can’t have any because Jon is so allergic to them.”

  Granmama cleared an office chair of loose paperwork and positioned the chair over to the vent. She quickly climbed on the chair and, as far as Chris could see, did some type of voodoo. She waved her hands in the air and muttered something mysterious.

  As Chris’s three siblings looked on in shock, he said, “I think Granmama is having a stroke or something. Does 911 work here in Scotland?”

  “Chris, I’m fine.” She turned and adjusted the vent.

  As soon as she did, Jon’s symptoms cleared up. They all looked at each other and then shrugged.

  Chris looked around the room to see where his older brother would sleep. Seeing nothing, he said with a smile on his face, “Well, Jon, it looks like you have the worst bed.” Chris walked over to the desk, plopped in the chair, leaned back, and propped his feet up on the desk, pushing some papers to the floor.

  Granmama said, “Chris, that is just a desk and chair. Go over and pull the rope against the wall.”

  He walked over to the wall and pulled hard on the rope attached to a rusty metal loop. He barely got out of the way in time. A Murphy bed came out of the wall and hit the papers on the floor, which went flying into the air.

  “Chris, it only takes a gentle pull for the bed to come out of the wall.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me that before, Granmama?” Chris did not wait for a response. He was fixated on the expensive-looking burgundy and green bedding and pillows on Jon’s bed.

  As he was thinking about the sleeping arrangements and how he got shafted, Great-Grandmother said, “Children, come sit on the bed. I want to tell you about the founder of this hospital.”

  They all climbed up on the massive bed and got comfortable, but Chris still couldn’t think straight. How was this fair?

  “Chris, are you listening?”

  “Yeah, I’m paying attention.” Chris thought, I’ve had to say that to my teachers so many times over the years that it came out natural.

  “About a hundred years ago, two brothers, who were both doctors, wanted to build the first hospital in town. They had very big egos and inherited a lot of money when their parents had died. Charles, the younger brother, wanted to build the hospital on the north side of town, and Lawrence, who was the older brother, wanted to build it on the south side of the town. Each brother thought they knew which way the town would expand in the future. After many disagreements, they decided that each would build his own hospital, Charles’s on the north and Lawrence’s on the south.

  “So they built the hospitals. Each did well at the beginning, but, several years later, the town moved toward the north hospital, which was run by Charles. Lawrence tried hard to make his, this hospital, a success, and eventually slept here in the office many nights. When his wife became very sick, she was treated and died in this hospital. The story goes that she became despondent and ill over the death of her raccoon. Her husband had bought her a kitten, but it wasn’t the same. Her picture is in Trisha’s room; she is the lady in the purple dress, Mrs. Evelyn Toddles.”

  Chris interrupted. “The ugly woman in the portrait.”

  Great-Grandmother gave Chris a half nod with her head and continued. “After her death, this truly became Lawrence’s home, and his wife’s cat, Angel, became his best friend. No one knows if he died here or if he left. Some say he went insane once Angel died. But, after years of struggling, Lawrence had closed his hospital. The hospital remained vacant for many, many years until your great-grandfather and I b
ought it fifty years ago.”

  Chris again interrupted. “You mean Great-Grandfather, the one that’s a nut?”

  Great-Grandmother sighed, “Let’s just say he was a little barmy?”

  Jon said, “What does that mean?”

  “Strange or silly. Now let’s see, where was I? Oh, yes, the hospital Charles built on the north side of town still does very well; it is the oldest and best hospital for miles around.”

  Chris said, “Hey Jon, did you see how the younger brother in the story was the successful one?”

  “Yeah, Chris, I made a note of that. I don’t think any of us would have captured that thought without your help. Thanks for paying attention.”

  “No problem, Jon.”

  Jon said, “Shhh! What’s that sound?”

  It sounded like a dripping sound, and it was coming from the hallway. Jon got up to see what it was. Trisha and Brittany were trying to find the cat, and Chris was putting in his plea for better accommodations.

  Jon looked out into the hallway. He did not see anything at first, but something landed on his arm. It looked like a large drop of blood. He looked up and saw a red stain in the ceiling that was dripping red liquid. Jon looked down, and the blood was dripping into a bucket. It was almost running over. Jon put his hand to his mouth as he felt his meal trying to come up.

  In a shaky voice, Jon said, “Granmama, could you come here, please?”

  Great-Grandmother got up as quickly as her advanced age would let her. “Jon, what is it?”

  Jon pointed to the bucket, which was no longer there. Great-Grandmother put her hand on Jon’s arm and felt the drops of blood, but that was all that was out of the ordinary. She took her hankie out of her waistband and wiped the blood from Jon’s arm.

  Chris yelled, “I smell cookies baking, Granmama.”

  Great-Grandmother put her hankie back. “Yes, Chris, when I made your sandwiches, I also put some cookies in the oven. It has an automatic shut off, so we don’t have to worry about burning the house down. Let’s all go down and have a snack, and then you can turn in for the night. I’m sure you’re exhausted.”