The rain continued to pound the top of Mary Tompkins' car as she talked to her husband on the phone. She needed to finish this business dinner, and after that, she would be done for the week and get to spend time at home, while enjoying a long three-day weekend.
Lightning flashed across the sky as she finished her call. Mary took a quick look at the dreary weather as a loud clap of thunder followed and vibrated in her chest. She grabbed her umbrella, opened the door, and a strong gust of wind slapped her face. As she closed the door and set the alarm remote, she heard the sound of rattling chains behind her. Before she could turn around, she felt a sharp, hot pain in her back. Her head shot back as her back was split apart. A gust of rain and wind blew the umbrella from her shaking hand. It happened so fast she couldn't scream, and her eyes closed as she died instantly, while still standing.
The killer held Mary's body upright with his razor-sharp sickle still lodged in her back. He wrapped the heavy chain around her head and neck and pulled the sickle from her back. Her body slumped and the slack in the heavy chain tightened around her neck as she fell. He dragged her to a dark corner of the parking lot next to a vacant lot, and then down a ditch that disappeared into a small creek. Mary's blood stained the path the killer had taken, but it was quickly washed away by the heavy rain.
It was a perfect night to commit a murder—dark, rainy, and very few people out. Mary Tompkins was the eighth victim of serial killer, David Henry Coleman, also known as The Mangler. His well-planned and violently executed murders took place in different cities and states, leaving authorities with the difficult task of tracking him. Coleman was a violent serial killer, much more aggressive than most. The FBI described his murders as angry outbursts, but Coleman was never sloppy, and he always left a calling card, making him the most feared serial killer in years. When Coleman killed his victims, he took the bodies to a place where they would easily be found. His calling card was the sickle. In each murder, the victim's face was sliced and cut, beaten, and mangled beyond recognition. The sickle would be lodged in the chest, his trademark. It was determined that some of the victims were alive when he sliced their faces. Authorities had their murder weapon, but it never gave them any leads. The Mangler toyed with them and knew exactly what he was doing.
The Mangler's murderous run had gone on for four years. He averaged two killings a year, with his path taking him from the east coast to the Midwest and down south. Mary Tompkins lived in Florida. There was no way to tell when and where he would strike next, and this made it hard to pin him down.
Police got their first break in August of 2002 when they received a call from a resident in Liberty County, Texas. The resident told police a suspicious man had been walking up and down their road late at night. This was a farming community and strangers rarely walked that stretch of road. They sent out a patrol car with the officer treating it as a routine call, but everyone had the serial killer in the back of their minds, especially law enforcement. The police officer didn't find the man or find anything out of the ordinary. A call went out to surrounding counties to be on alert, knowing the serial killer was still out there somewhere.
Coleman chose his victims at random but planned their murders in a very precise way. There was no connection between the victims, no similarities. Half were men and half were women. They ranged from married couples with kids, to single without kids. Those facts, combined with him constantly changing places, left everything unpredictable and everyone on edge. They all waited for him to make an unlikely mistake. The break the police got began with the resident spotting the stranger dressed in black, walking the country road. Without making the communities anxious, law enforcement moved to a higher alert level behind the scenes.
"David Henry Coleman planned his ninth murder in September of 2002, close to the Old River-Lost Lake area here just up the road." The old man began telling the story to the three junior high kids. "A very small, quiet community, Old River found itself in the middle of a major manhunt. Coleman chose the time just after dusk to make his way to the home of a Mark and Jean Ellis. They had just finished working outside around the house and were cleaning up for dinner when Coleman peered into their kitchen window. They didn't see him, they were lucky. The Mangler had not planned this murder like the rest. He rushed it, you see. His need to kill and murder again made him careless. Maybe he wanted more notoriety than he had before or wanted to be taken seriously, but this was his mistake."
The young boys listened closely, their eyes fixed on the man known to the neighborhood kids as, Old Man Jake. Jake, an older black man in his sixties, stood tall with a tough demeanor and graying hair. The truth was, he was a gentle giant who enjoyed the simple things in life, most of all, sitting on his porch and smoking a good cigar. He had lived across the road from Saint Vincent Hospital for thirty years and knew the hospital in its heyday when it was the only hospital in town. He saw the demise, as the new times rolled in, and newer buildings were built, all in the name of business and opportunity.
Jake continued, "Coleman watched the married couple get things ready for dinner. His plan was to wait until Mark came back outside, and then use his sickle and chain to end his life. He waited patiently. I imagine a sly smile came over his face as their dinner ended and Mark got up from the table and walked to the back door. Coleman moved into position in the shadows. Mark grabbed a water bucket from the back porch and headed towards the stalls. Coleman waited until Mark entered the stalls and then walked in his direction, but just then, a truck came driving up the dirt road to the house. With the sound of the truck, Mark headed back outside just as Coleman was entering. The killer had no choice but to strike down with the sickle. Shocked, Mark screamed out as the blow from the blade cut into his shoulder. Coleman's momentum carried them into the doorway of the barn, just as the headlights from the truck shined on them. They fell to the ground. Mark struggled in pain as Coleman raised the sickle and prepared to strike down on him again. Mark moved and Coleman missed, as the pointed end of the sickle slammed into the dirt floor. Dust rose all around in the struggle and the long chain clanged to the ground between them. Coleman went to make one last attempt to murder his prey when he heard Jean's screams behind him. He took one last swing with the sickle and hit Mark in the arm, slicing halfway through. Coleman got up, grabbed his chain and ran towards the back of the small barn. The neighbor in the truck, from just down the road, grabbed his shotgun and ran to where Jean was standing. He made it just in time to see Coleman running away. He fired a shot and hit Coleman in the right leg. The shot knocked him forward, but he didn't lose his footing and was able to run outside to the surrounding woods. The bloody sickle was left behind. Mark was the only victim to survive an attack by the famous serial killer. He was taken to a hospital as the manhunt began." Jake paused to let the last part set in.
The three boys, still curious and listening, looked at each other.
Jake leaned forward and continued, "Two things worked in favor for the police you see, the suspect was bleeding, and he had left his murder weapon behind. At this point, they didn't know if it was the Mangler or a copycat, but this man had to be found and arrested. The manhunt continued through the night with helicopters and dogs. They were able to track him in this direction, and around four in the morning, police were dispatched to a neighborhood here in Baytown. A resident spotted a suspicious-looking man walking through the alley, but by the time police arrived, the man was gone. They sealed off the area for four or five miles, and worked their way in."
"Just as dawn broke, another call came in to police just a short distance away from the original call. A resident, taking out his garbage, saw a man sitting in the shrubs across the street. He couldn't give a good description, and again, when police arrived, he was gone. Though this time, the dogs picked up a scent. The helicopter was called in, and the hounds barked and howled louder than you ever heard before." Jake's voice grew loud and animated.
"They were closing in on him. The wooded area led to another neighborhood just on the other side. Not as many people lived in this area and with daylight on their side, the police felt they would find him as they approached from both directions. The hounds closed in on a garage next to a vacant house. After setting a perimeter, they burst into the garage and found some bloody clothes that matched the description Mark Ellis gave them earlier. The suspect was not in the garage, so they focused on the vacant house. They broke through the front and back doors at the same time," he said with excitement building in his voice.
"Gunfire erupted in a back room. The police had no choice but to fire back, hitting the suspect several times. They called an ambulance to save the man, who they suspected to be the Mangler. Paramedics stabilized him on the way to Saint Vincent Hospital," the old man said, as he pointed across the main road. "Right over there."
The boys looked over their shoulders at the old vacant hospital.
"After arriving, Coleman's condition worsened, but not before he told an FBI agent that he was indeed, David Henry Coleman, the Mangler. He confessed to all the murders as two other agents looked on. Coleman's heartless expression showed one of a remorseless murderer."
"A day later, while still in ICU, Coleman's hand began to shake violently." The old man paused in thought, looking down at the ground. "The nurse walked over to him, just in reach of his handcuffed wrist, and he quickly grabbed her arm. He looked her in the eye and said, 'I will be back, and I will return, and kill again and again. I will haunt this place forever!' They say his eyes stayed open, staring at the nurse until he died. She screamed and broke away from his death grip. The FBI rushed in, but Coleman was already dead." Jake paused, making the boys wait a little longer. "You know, they say he walks the halls of the old hospital carrying his sickle and dragging his chain. The anniversary of his death is coming up this week."
Old Man Jake knew how to tell a story. He sat back in his chair and lit his half-smoked cigar.
"That's the story of the Mangler."
The three, wide-eyed thirteen-year-olds, sat on their bikes, staring at Jake. Two of them, Doug and Kyle, heard stories from him before, but it never got old. The other boy, Brandon, was new in town. They brought him to Jake's so he could hear the tale of the Mangler.
After hearing Jake tell his story, the boys headed out on their bikes towards the hospital. But not without one last word from Jake.
"Y'all be careful now," he said, as he took one last puff from his cigar before dropping it on the ground and smothering it under his shoe.
The boys, way up the sidewalk by then, waved back as they sped off.
"Best be careful," Jake said quietly to himself, knowing kids rarely listened to advice from adults.
Jake loved telling the story of the serial killer to the neighborhood kids. He did it to scare the kids so they would stay away from the old hospital, knowing the killer's ghost haunted the building on the anniversary of his death. He knew he couldn't stop the kids from sneaking in and out, but he would make sure they couldn't get in on the anniversary of Coleman's death. Since Jake lived near the hospital, he enjoyed taking walks to the park behind it. The walks helped him free his mind of his late wife, who passed away three short years ago. The gazebo was his favorite place to visit in the park. The octagonal-shaped structure was set out over the water, about thirty feet from land. A nice cool breeze usually blew across the open water and through the gazebo. Jake enjoyed watching the kids play basketball on the concrete courts and the sounds of the younger kids laughing on the playground. This was his place to get away from it all, at least for a short time, but he hadn't taken his normal walks in the last few days because of the recent thunderstorms.
He never told the kids, that he was the one who called police when he spotted Coleman in the alley that day. He didn't know it then, but that was the beginning of his personal attachment to the murderer. He had never been visited by Coleman's ghost at home, so he figured it only existed inside the walls of the hospital. After all, he was responsible for getting him shot. Jake figured if there was anyone he was going to hunt and seek out for revenge, it would be him. The anniversary of Coleman's death was coming Saturday, and he planned to keep his usual routine—walking around the old building and making sure the door the kids used to get inside, was locked. This was Jake's yearly ritual.
Built in the late 1940s, Saint Vincent Hospital stood tall at five stories, overlooking the small town. At the time, it was a massive hospital, covering over 280,000 square feet, staying in business until 2004, when its ownership completed the transition to a modern version of the hospital, built on the other side of town. Since the closure of the original hospital, there have been reports of it being haunted. A private business used the building for a short period after its closure. Most reports of hauntings came from the staff and late-night security guards. The old building was finally shut down in 2006 and sits on top of a small hill, giving it a more massive look and feel. At dusk and set against the western sky, its dark and menacing appearance fueled speculation of the place being haunted. To keep trespassers out, the windows were boarded up, and a fence was put up along the edge of the property.
Not too long after, the property owners hired a contract company to do some minor, structural repair work on the lower level. Just as the three-week project was about to end, contract worker Ed Payton was found one morning, hung to death, hanging from a chain on an overhead rafter. There was no suicide note, or any reason in his personal life to hang himself, and investigators ruled it a homicide. Rumors of the Mangler still haunting the building escalated, especially since a chain was used, one of his trademark tools. There was no stool, no box, or ladder for Ed Payton to climb up on to do it himself. He just hung freely in his work clothes, his feet more than five feet from the ground, and rumors circulated of his face being filled with terror when he was found. After the investigation, more fencing was put in place to secure the grounds. But during the summers, it was hard to keep kids like, Doug, Kyle, and now Brandon, from finding ways in and exploring. High school kids showed no fear and were always being run out of the area by police.
David Henry Coleman died on the fourth floor in ICU—that floor is said to be most haunted. People have reported hearing chains rattling and the sound of metal scraping in the shadows. Rumors can be exaggerated, but when a haunting is suspected, the reported sounds are much more believable. An assessment of structural integrity was required for the building once a year, and over that time only once has anyone reported anything strange. A city inspector on the fourth floor said she heard noises coming from near the old ICU hall. She walked further down the dark hall with a flashlight in her hands and heard the sound of a chain dragging on the floor. That scared her enough to turn around and head back down to the first floor. She wouldn't go back up, even after her coworkers searched the area and found nothing. Not many dared to go up there after that.
Doug and Kyle took Brandon to the back of the hospital so he could see the scary side of it. Even in the middle of the day, the hospital took on an ominous look. The backside of the hospital was where the curious would sneak in through a hole in the fence. Brandon stood, straddling his bike, with one foot on the ground and he scanned the building from top to bottom. Doug and Kyle rode their bikes around the fencing to the far corner, and he quickly jumped up on his seat and peddled towards them. A large covered patio served as the back entrance to the hospital and the covered area provided shade from the evening sun, creating a makeshift break area for employees—a couple of the concrete tables and chairs still stood there. The boys hid their bikes behind some overgrown shrubs and went in through their secret spot.
"You're pretty brave, Brandon. I never made it this far my first time," Doug said.
"Quit trying to scare him," Kyle said. "It's okay, nothing to be scared of," Kyle said to Brandon, as they walked further in. The patio was at least sixty feet wide and another forty feet to the back entrance. Despite the afternoon sun, the covered patio cast dark shadows in the far corners. They stopped a few feet from the back entrance. The owners had the doors boarded with plywood and locked with chains.
"Most people think you can't get in, but we know a way. Want to go in?" Doug asked as he looked at Brandon.
Brandon was usually game for things like this, but he was a little nervous with Doug pushing him to go further. "Yeah, let's go," Brandon, said. Kyle looked on. They had done this a few times before, and it was always fun to show someone the haunted hospital for the first time.
Doug led them to a corner where the walls intersected and disappeared behind a sheet of plywood. Brandon and Kyle waited for a moment before Doug reappeared smiling. "We can still get in." He promptly disappeared again and they followed him through an old rusty door that opened just enough, allowing them to pass through.
The dark and damp hall smelled like sewage.
The boys frowned at the smell, temporarily holding their breath.
Doug and Kyle turned on their flashlights revealing the graffiti-lined walls in various colors and styles. Some represented gangs, some professed their love, and others were just there in the form of street-art. They could hear water dripping at the end of the hallway, most likely from the recent rainstorm.
"Still looks the same as before. The fourth floor is where the Mangler died," Doug said, looking at Brandon. "The only way to get up there is through the stairs down the hall."
He pointed the flashlight towards the stairwell. Brandon's heart beat fast with excitement, but still leery now that they were inside. Shining their lights in all directions, they walked towards the end of the hall. Old shards of metal and pipes, detached wiring, and broken Sheetrock filled the floor and forced them to walk in a weaving pattern as they closed in on the door to the stairwell. Despite Doug's brave appearance, he stayed close to the other two.
Finally, they were at the door. "Here it is," Doug said. He pushed the door, and surprisingly, it swung easily on its hinges. The metal door, covered in rust, came to a creaking stop, revealing the entrance to the stairwell which looked like a black hole. They stepped forward and shined their lights on every wall and corner, casting eerie shadows in every direction.
"You ready to go up?" Doug asked, just as scared as them. They nodded without taking their eyes off the stairs above. Kyle held tight to his flashlight as Doug led the way, with Brandon trailing Kyle. Once they got to the second floor, Doug paused. "Shhh, just checking to see if we can hear his chain dragging on the floor."
"Come on, Doug, quit trying to scare him," Kyle said.
"There's nothing to be scared of until we get to the fourth floor anyway," Doug said with a laugh.
"Have you ever been to the fourth floor?" Brandon asked them.
"No, not—" Kyle began to say before Doug cut him off.
"Sure, many times. We've never seen the Mangler, but we know he's there."
A loud bang came from above, scaring them, and they quickly shined their lights up the stairwell. The sound of something falling down the stairs followed before everything went dead silent. They continued looking up and noticed something stirring the dust above—the particles of dust floated across the beams of their lights like tiny snowflakes. Someone or something was up there. Doug walked up a couple of more steps, sweat forming on his forehead. Kyle and Brandon looked at him, their feet locked into place, they had no intention of going any further.
"Probably just a cat or something," Doug said. He took another step up and craned his head at an awkward angle to see what had stirred the dust.
"Maybe we should go, Doug, it's too dark," Kyle said.
"No, I want to see the Mangler," Doug said in a deep haunting voice, trying to scare them.
Just as he finished his sentence and began to laugh, the unmistakable sound of a dragging chain from above wiped the grin off Doug's face. Frozen in place, and listening intently, the boys heard the sound of the chain dropping slowly, one step after another. They looked at each other with the same look of, Let's get the hell out of here!
Their flashlights no longer shined above, they didn't want to see what was coming, but the dusty light shining on their faces showed the fear they could no longer hide. The sound of the chain grew louder, getting closer. Then came the high-pitched sound of metal grinding against metal.
The boys turned and ran down the stairwell to the first floor and straight to the door they entered earlier. In the boy's minds, the sound of the metal grinding on the handrails had to be the Mangler's sharpened sickle. There were no words between them as they squeezed out the door, all thinking the exact same thing . . . Get Out!
Brandon was the last one out, but couldn't help looking down the hall to the stairway door. Just as he made his last push to slide out, he saw the doors to the stairs being pushed open. He yelled, turned away, and ran to his bike.
Seniors in high school, Russell, Jesse, Craig, and Christy, had been friends since fifth grade. They did the normal high school parties and get-togethers, but for the most part stayed away from trouble. They hung out with other friends but kept close to their own little circle. One thing they did like doing for kicks was sneaking into the old hospital. They had done it three or four times, but never went deep into the upper floors. They loved testing the rumors of the haunting by wandering around the first floor, and most recently, going to the spot where the worker was hung. Russell and Jesse were teammates on the varsity football team and kept their options open on the dating scene, while Craig and Christy were dating and looked forward to going to college together.
With the anniversary of the Mangler's death coming up over the weekend, they had plans to throw a private party on the fourth floor with some friends. None of them had ever been to the fourth floor, but figured, as a group, it would be fun and adventurous, and a lot safer than going alone. Russell and Jesse were letting only a handful of close friends know about the party. They didn't want to have too many people there, or for anyone to find out, especially the police. The plan was to have a keg of beer, some food, and music and they also planned to have a few flashlights and candles to make sure there was plenty of light. With Russell, Jesse, Craig, and a couple of other guys, along with the girls, they wouldn't have any trouble getting all of their party décor up there in one trip. He looked forward to the party and playing a joke on some of the partygoers with Jesse, but they needed to sneak into the hospital before the party to set up some pranks to scare everyone. It was Friday afternoon and their plans were going well. Keeping it a secret was a must.
Doug woke up Saturday and rode his bike the short distance to Kyle's house. Kyle was just getting out of bed.
"Why are you up so early?" Kyle asked as Doug sat down at Kyle's computer desk.
"Guess what I heard? Russell and some of the other guys are planning a party for tonight," Doug said, excitement beaming on his face.
"So? They always have parties on the weekends. What's the difference?"
"The difference is that this party is gonna be at the old hospital, on the fourth floor."
Doug watched Kyle's reaction.
"Are you serious? They plan on having it there?" Kyle looked surprised, his eyes sparkled with anticipation.
"Yes, I heard my sister talking on the phone about it. It starts at ten tonight. I think we should go around ten-thirty and sneak in," Doug said proudly.
"I don't know, Doug. How will we be able to stay out that late without getting in trouble with our parents?"
"Simple." Doug already had a plan. "We say we are spending the night at Brandon's, and he says he is staying at one of our houses." Proud of his plan, Doug smiled.
"I don't know if that will work. Did you ask Brandon?"
"No, but I will this morning."
"What about all those noises we heard when we were there? You were just as scared as us," Kyle said.
"Come on. Do you want to do it or not? Russell and the rest will be there anyway. Nothing to be scared of, right?" said Doug, doing his best to convince Kyle.
"Okay, if you can get Brandon to go along, I'll go."
Kyle tried to hide his excitement, but if Doug could make it work, he knew it would be a fun night. The only question was . . . who made those noises in the stairs the last time?
The party was set to start at ten, so Russell and Jesse planned to meet at the hospital just after dark to take some things inside, set up for the party, and plan their pranks. The day darkened earlier than usual because of a thunderstorm in the afternoon that left the skies cloudy and overcast the rest of the day.
Russell and Jesse arrived at the back entrance to the hospital in Jesse's truck. Chairs, a table, and a small sound system for the music, filled the truck's bed.
"We'll have to take this stuff in two loads. The truck should be okay parked here," Russell said.
The faded, dark blue paint on the truck blended in well with the dark bushes.
"Yeah, we just need to be quick," said Jesse. He was excited about the party, and the possibility of having some fun with the rest of the group that night.
They grabbed the table and chairs first. As they made their way to the hidden entrance, they noticed the door was open. They always closed the door when they left. This meant either someone was inside or someone had just left. They pushed through with more caution than usual. Russell carried the four chairs, two in each hand. Jesse held the plastic table at his side as they moved along the first room towards the stairway. Both carried flashlights, with Jesse holding his light with his free hand. After a bit of a struggle, they were standing at the stairwell door. The old door was also open, when it was usually closed, they looked at each other, but then laughed it off. They were scaring themselves before they could even pull the pranks on their friends.
Jesse entered first and shined his light along the stairs as they walked one step at a time to the next floor. Their shoes slid against the grit and dust with each step crushing the dry debris, awakening the dead-quiet stairwell. The boys tried to break up the awkward silence by joking about the upcoming night, but as they got to the third floor, Jesse stopped suddenly. Russell, trailing, bumped into him.
"What happened? What's wrong?" he asked.
"I don't know. I thought I heard something."
"Come on. Now you're sounding like a scared little girl. Keep going," Russell said.
Unaware something stirred above them on the steps, he nudged Jesse in his back to move him forward.
"Listen! Can't you hear it?" asked Jesse. His heart beat fast. His eyes focused on the beam of light shining above. Russell also looked, but neither could see the culprit. For a moment, dead silence washed over the stairwell just before the sounds started again—now the unmistakable sound of a chain dragging on the concrete floor. Russell didn't show his fear, but his heart beat just as fast as Jesse's. Russell set the chairs down and grabbed his flashlight. He shined it alongside Jesse's light but they could only see dust particles floating in and out of the railings leading to the fourth floor. The clanging chains grew louder, getting closer. The boys froze, but Russell found some bravado, despite his fear.
"Who's there?" he demanded. "You better show yourself or we'll kick your ass!" The sound of the dragging chains stopped one flight of stairs above them.
More silence.
The chains rattled again—the source of the noise was about to reveal itself. The boys wanted to run, their minds told them they had to run, but they couldn't. Their hands shook, causing the beams of light to dance around the walls like strobe lights at a party. Only, their party hadn't started yet.
Or had it?
"I said, who's there?" Russell asked once more, in a less than demanding tone. The uncontrolled shaking of his hand showed his fear. The unknown scared him shitless, but his stubborn determination kept him in place. He had to see what was there.
In the darkness, they could see a hand holding the dangling chain coming around the turn. The flashlights beamed through the specks of dust and simultaneously, both lights shined in the face of the man carrying the chains.
They recognized the man, to their shock and relief.
"You boys better quit messing around in here." It was Old Man Jake, holding the heavy chains. "It's too dangerous in here to be playing around." Jake stopped and shined his light down the stairway at the boys. They stood in silence. "What are you boys planning? What's all that for?"
Russell spoke, "We were just gonna have a party up here tonight. It won't hurt nothin'." His anxiety gone, once he realized it was only Jake.
"That's not a good idea. The floors upstairs aren't good. You boys leave this chain lying around?" Jake lifted the brand new chain and walked down the stairs towards them. "Get that light out of my face, and you boys best be heading home." He walked past them as they moved out of his way.
Russell and Jesse didn't know how to respond. Even at his age, Jake could be intimidating when he wanted and took one more step past them before turning around. "This building is old. Listen to what I tell you." He turned and walked down to the second floor. The old man's serious tone settled in their minds for a moment as they heard him work his way down.
They looked at each other. Russell didn't show concern, but Jesse had his confidence shaken. "I don't care what he said. We're still having this party. He just came down from the fourth floor and nothing happened. Everything will be fine," Russell said.
"I know what you're saying, it's just kinda weird. What was he doing in here anyway?" Jesse asked.
Russell couldn't come up with a good answer.
"I don't know. Maybe he has a thing for old buildings. Who knows? All I know is, we're having this party no matter what," Russell said, as he turned off his flashlight and grabbed the chairs. He started moving up to the fourth floor as Jesse, his flashlight still in hand, reluctantly followed him.
Despite Jake's warning, Russell and Jesse continued up to the fourth floor and set up the tables and chairs. They figured, if Old Man Jake was able to walk alone on the fourth floor, they surely would be safe with their group of friends up there later. After they finished setting up, they left and made phone calls to everyone who was invited. They let the select few know the party was still on.
But Jesse's head rang again with the question, What was Jake doing up here?
Jake hid a secret and a unique relationship with the Mangler and the old hospital. No one he told the stories to, especially the kids, knew he worked at the hospital for a short time. He had a part-time job there doing odd jobs and delivering the inner-office mail throughout the hospital. Jake worked on the fourth floor the day after David Henry Coleman was admitted to the hospital, allowing him access to the ICU to deliver documents and mail.
He had to pass Coleman's room to get to the nurse's station that day. As he walked by, he glanced at the two FBI agents, who stood at his doorway in the typical government style, looking straight ahead through dark shades, with hands crossed in front. After dropping the paperwork at the nurse's station, Jake made his way back down the hall and glanced into Coleman's room. Coleman's eyes were closed, wires and tubes attached all over his body, and as he was about to walk away, David Henry Coleman suddenly opened his eyes and looked directly at Jake. The intense gaze frightened Jake, as Coleman raised his cuffed hand as far as he could and pointed at Jake. And through all the wires and hoses running in and out of the killer's body, his eyes strained and grew more intense, saying, I'll get you!
Jake broke from the hypnotic trance and quickly walked away. Down the hall, he heard a nurse scream and a computerized voice came over the hospital speaker system calling the staff to Coleman's room as his body failed.
Jake learned soon after, Coleman had died. That one moment Jake had with the serial killer, no matter how brief, would haunt him and connect the two men years after—a secret he always kept to himself. This was the reason he walked the hospital floors after it was shut down. He needed to face his fears and not let Coleman take his mind. The experience he had that day scared Jake, but he exorcised the demon every time he walked on the fourth floor of the old hospital. He knew its ghost would haunt the floors on the anniversary of his death. He had seen Coleman five times, each time they stood opposing each other in the hall, only it wasn't Coleman anymore, it was the Mangler who stood there, chain in one hand, sickle in the other. He would stand and laugh loudly down the hall as if he knew something no one else knew. The first time Jake saw him, he was paralyzed by the same fear that had grabbed him years earlier. He knew it wasn't just trying to scare him, because each time the killer laughed, he would stop suddenly and point his finger at Jake as he did before. Then, as he gave him that same demonic stare, the Mangler would slowly fade away into the darkness like magic . . . dark magic. Jake planned to take this secret to his grave. He wasn't concerned about the stories he told to the kids, he knew they were safe, even if they got curious and ventured in the old hospital. But he made sure no one could get in on the anniversary of his death. He felt a responsibility to protect the public and the property—as long as he was able to confront the monster in the hall, and until it faded away as it did each time. He knew the stories made the kids more curious and would seek answers, but he really wanted to put so much fear in them, they would stay away.
He held some kind of power over Coleman and it kept the killer in the spirit world. The only time Jake failed to make the anniversary walk was the week the construction worker was murdered. Knowing the kids planned to have a party, he had to make sure they couldn't get in through that door. He had to keep them out.
Jake went back to the hospital a little after dark and picked up the chain he had brought down earlier and used it to secure the door with a padlock. There was no way he was going to let those kids fall into any danger goofing around in the hospital, especially that night. After he locked the door, he had a look around and didn't see anyone lingering on the property, and went home.