The Mistaken Haunting of Seth Harrison

Chapter 1

 Liam could feel the knot tightening in his gut as he pulled into the parking lot of the Bridgewater State Forensic Hospital. No matter how many times he visited the prison, he couldn’t shake the disconcerting feeling that came over him as soon as he passed the first gate. It was the price of being a Sensitive.

He parked his black Mercedes sedan and scanned the parking lot before getting out. He knew someone was watching him. It wasn’t paranoia. It was video security.

Looking at himself in the rear-view mirror, he ran his fingers through long unruly curls, taming them as best he could. He got out of his car and immediately straightened his signature double-breasted black trench coat. It had a small cape over the shoulders like something out of the nineteenth century. He thought the look made him stand out. It did, but not in a good way.

He reached into the back seat for his black leather satchel and closed the car door. Pressing the button on his key fob elicited a thump and a whoop as the car doors locked. He turned and headed toward the prison entrance. Suddenly, he was jerked backward, twisting and slamming into his car.

“What?! What!?” he shouted, swiveling his head from side to side, near panic. He saw no one. Looking further, he noticed his coat, held tightly in the car door.

“God damn it!” He looked around again. This time checking to see if anyone was nearby. He groped around in his pocket for his key fob, inadvertently hitting the alarm button.

The car screamed Whoooop! Whoooooop! Whoooooop!  

“Shit!” Fumbling with the keys, he finally opened the door and silenced the alarm. He slammed the door shut, straightened his jacket and headed to the building, kicking the tire as he went by. He had regained his composure by the time he got to the security checkpoint.

“Hey, Doc,” the guard greeted him as he buzzed him into the lobby. “Having a bit of car trouble?”

“Damn panic buttons,” Liam growled, straightening his coat. “Officer Tindel. Nice to see you.” He made it a habit to learn the names of all the guards he encountered regularly. The personal touch could go a long way if he needed something in the future. He placed his valise on the conveyor belt.

“Still working on that paper?” the guard queried.

Liam dodged questions about his work with academic babble. “Yes. It’s a longitudinal study on behavior modifications based on duration of incarceration, so it’s not likely to be published for another couple of years, pending review from the Forensic Psychology Board at UMass.”

“Sure, whatever you say.” Officer Tindel sent the bag through the x-ray machine where a second guard reviewed its contents. “Go on in.”

Liam advanced through the metal detector, as the guard circled around, meeting him on the other side. “Who can we pull for you today?”

“No one special, thank you. I'm only observing the yard activities today.”

“Suit yourself. Let us know if there's anything you need.”

Liam retrieved his briefcase from the belt. “I certainly will.” He headed down the hallway toward the next locked door.

“I'll call ahead and let them know you're coming.”

“Thank you,” Liam called back.

As a sociology professor at the University of Massachusetts, Dr. Liam McMurty could talk his way into any public or government facility. He simply claimed that he needed information for one paper or another and people were usually eager to help. When he met with occasional resistance, he had two tactics. He either baited them with a mention in his paper, appealing to the ego-driven, or made subtle threats of a poor report to higher-ups in the chain. So far, this strategy had gained him entry anywhere he wanted to visit.

Today he was at Bridgewater State Hospital, a facility for the criminally insane, where security was high, with two concentric razor wire fences circling the property. It was the only forensic psychiatric hospital in Massachusetts and it housed the most notorious criminals, past and present. The Boston Strangler spent some time here in the 1960s before being transferred to the federal prison in Walpole, but most inmates died here, literally fulfilling their life sentence.

He continued down the long gray hallway from the entrance.

“Good morning, Doc.”

“Sergeant.” Liam nodded to the officer as he passed through the locked doors separating the admin offices from the inmate area.

His destination today was the Outer Wall, a six-foot thick barrier of poured concrete that surrounded the entire facility. As he made his way through the stark corridors, the air became increasingly stale with the smell of stone and poor ventilation. He was grateful to get to the next security checkpoint at the bottom of the stairs that would bring him back out into fresh air. There was no x-ray machine here, but the arch of a metal detector did another scan.

“Good morning, sir. Empty your pockets please.” The guard shoved a small dirty plastic bowl at him. “Open your briefcase. Place it on the table.”

“Certainly, officer.” Liam purposefully leaned down to read the officer’s name tag. Sgt. Cameron Borden. “Are you new here, Sergeant Borden?”

“No sir.”

“I don't recall seeing you here before, that's all.”

“Not my usual station. I'm just covering for the day...sir.” The guard barely glanced at Liam, annoyance creeping into his voice.

“Do you know who I am, sergeant?”

“Dr. McMurty, I understand, here to study the inmates for your next paper.”

Liam's chest pumped out slightly at the recognition. “So, you're familiar with my work?”

“I'm aware that you haven't actually published anything in eight years.”

Liam's back went ramrod straight. His defenses went up. “Oh,” he tried not to sneer, “A well-informed prison guard. How unusual.”

“Just doing my job...sir...wondering how a civilian gets permission to walk the P.” The slang was a reference to the Perimeter, a walkway on the top of the Outer Wall that overlooked The Yard, the only outdoor space available to the prisoners. Along the P stood three towers manned 24/7 with snipers.

“Well, Google doesn't know everything, sergeant.”

“No, sir.” The guard reviewed the contents of the bowl and briefcase while Liam passed easily through the security arch.

“All clear, sir.”

“Thank you.” Liam picked up his things and headed up the stairs. He didn't like this new guard. There was something off about him, aside from being an ass. The last thing he needed was an overachiever nosing around in his business. On the other hand, he had to admire the guard for doing more investigation than anyone else had done in the five years he'd been coming here. He decided the man would make a better ally than adversary and didn’t pursue the argument.

Liam pushed through the door at the top of the stairs, took in a deep breath of fresh air and waited a moment for his eyes to adjust to the daylight. The guard in the corner shack a hundred yards away gave him a wave, acknowledging his arrival. Liam waved back a two-fingered salute from an imagined hat brim.

After walking about halfway to the corner, he turned his attention to the interior courtyard. Referred to simply as The Yard, it was about the size of a football field and the most volatile area of the prison. It was empty except for the Yard Guards, a team of six officers specifically trained for this position. An eerie silence floated over the compound as Liam waited for the doors to open and the inmates to arrive. He took the time to study the guards below. Surprising to some, they were not heavily armed, carrying only nightsticks and tasers. The real firepower was with the snipers who could pick off an inmate anywhere in the yard with deadly accuracy.

A loud siren broke the silence as doors clanged open. Inmates flooded the dirt arena. It was a sociologist's playground and any of his colleagues would be quick to point out this behavior or that, but prison social norms were the least of his interests. He was looking for the “Odd People,” rare individuals with mystical or psychic traits that often got themselves into trouble, landing them in either prisons or mental hospitals or, in this case, both.

Today there were close to one hundred prisoners in the yard, some agitated, pushing and shoving other inmates, some over-medicated, shuffling along staring at the ground. The guards in the Yard and on the Wall were on high alert.

Liam had taken out a notebook and was placing hash marks in various boxes as he watched the activity in the yard.

“Seeing anything noteworthy?”

Liam jumped slightly, following it with exaggerated posturing trying to cover it up. It was Sgt. Borden from downstairs. He had made his way to Liam’s side completely unnoticed.

“Ah, well, hard to say, really. Nothing I wasn't expecting. Today's visit was only to confirm my data. Research is all about the details.” The sergeant remained silent. Liam's antenna was up. There was something unusual about this man. Was he an Odd Person? He didn’t seem to be. Then what was it?

“How long have you been here, Sergeant Borden? My studies include the workforce too, you know. What calls a person to this kind of work and so forth.”

“I've been here about two years now. Usually, I'm patrolling the grounds, inside and outside the Wall.”

“Really? I wouldn't think the outside needed much security.”

“It's mostly curious teenagers or homeless guys looking to camp out over by the trees.”

Sgt. Borden was staring out over the wall to the back of the property. In 1855, when Bridgewater first opened as an insane asylum, its compound was over a hundred acres and included a working farm, complete with chickens, cows and sheep. Patients were expected to work as part of their treatment and the farm made the facility almost self-sufficient. Social activists of the 60s condemned it as forced labor and the practice ceased.

The property gradually transitioned into a multi-use facility with the maximum-security forensic hospital occupying the original inpatient domicile and hospital ward. The wall was added in 1969 and topped with razor wire in 1978 following an escape attempt.

“I hear it's haunted out there,” Liam offered. The guards were a superstitious lot and Liam expected a reaction. The sergeant continued his long-distance stare. Was he looking at the Link? Liam couldn't tell.

“So they say,” he nodded, continuing to look into the distance.

Liam took a moment to look him over. Sgt. Borden, about thirty by Liam’s guess, was wearing the standard guard uniform, a black polo shirt and gray chino pants tucked into black steel-toed boots. Liam noticed a chain around his neck. Some guards wore talismans or religious charms for protection.

“I notice you're wearing a chain. Mind if I ask what's on it?”

“What's it to you?”

“Professional curiosity.”

Sgt. Borden reluctantly pulled out the chain. Liam felt a slight energy wave pass through his body. His suspicions were confirmed when the sergeant revealed a Caller Coin, an eight-sided brass medallion, the size of a half-dollar, plain except for two fine lines etched around the edges on both sides with a gothic-styled design in the center. Liam struggled to feign disinterest.

“That's interesting. What is it?”

“Some old relic my grandfather gave me. Said it warded off evil spirits and stuff.”

Liam read the slight increase in tension in Borden’s body. He knew he was lying. “So far, so good?”

“Yeah, so far.”

“Well, thank you, Sgt. Borden. I think I have all I need for today. Do you need to walk me out?”

“Just down to the security check-point. Then you can make your way to the front.” He gestured toward the stairs.

“Maybe I can walk the outer grounds with you someday. Get your view on things.” Liam had been looking for an excuse to go out back ever since he noticed the gray iridescent oval on the outside of the wall four years ago. He strongly suspected it was a Link, tears in the time continuum, that allowed a person to travel to another location instantly, but he needed a closer look.

“I don't see the point.”

“Professional curiosity. A chance to see what remains of the old farm.”

“You're quite the curious guy, Dr. McMurty.”

“Yes, I am, Sgt. Borden. So, what do you say?”

“You'll have to clear it with Admin.”

“But you don't have any objections?”

“I guess not.”

“Excellent.”

When they arrived back at the checkpoint, Sgt. Borden stayed behind, studying Liam as he headed back to the entrance. As soon as Liam was out of sight, he pulled a cell phone from his pants pocket, looked around to ensure privacy and pushed a few buttons. 

“You were right,” he said into the phone. “I just bumped into McMurty. He's up to something, I'm sure. He asked to go walking around outback...Yeah, I'll keep you posted.”

Once back to his car, Liam allowed himself a grin and a small fist pump of excitement at his amazing find. A Caller Coin! And an excuse to walk around the grounds! He looked back at the old brick building. “Well,” he said into the air. “It looks like my luck keeps getting better and better.”

Links were literally the stuff of legends. Whenever he heard stories of mysterious places, hauntings, or unexplained disappearances, he was quick to check them out. Bridgewater State Hospital was full of these stories and, as it turns out, for good reason. Links were rare and unnoticed by most humans. He was pretty sure Bridgewater State Hospital had one. As excited as he was about his discoveries at the prison, a more interesting prize lay just two buildings over at Home Away From Home Child and Adolescent Treatment Center, his second stop today.

 The Consortium had mocked his visits here as wishful thinking and unlikely to yield anything of value.

“I don't see why you continue to visit those dreary places, Liam. You'd have much more luck following up on the scandal sheets,” Marilisa, the secretary of the Chairwoman admonished him. “They all think you’re wasting your time.”

 As a result, he refrained from sharing his discoveries. Now, he stood by his car staring out over the property, bragging to himself. “One Link, one Caller Coin and Seth Harrison.”