Zak's POV
I wake up like normal. Take my shower, check my Twitter, push Aaron into action.
He falls off the bed, landing with a thump on the pillows I laid out in the space between our beds. He looks at me, bleary eyed, and shakes his head. I smile, and turn back towards my laptop.
As Aaron gets into the shower, I look at my screen. Saira's face stares back at me from the front page of a newspaper. But it's a younger Saira, but the same hair and same eyes still pertain. I read the article, and notice no quotes from Saira. The end of the article concludes with the sentence "And though little Saira was unhurt from the fire, police say that she was too perfectly okay; some private sources suggest that maybe even little, innocent Saira may be the cause of the ashes of her family".
I lean back in my chair, gaze still on the screen. Saira's words echo in my head from last night. They died because of me. I was warned, and didn't listen. It's a miracle I'm still alive. I pull up the photo gallery on my computer, and scroll through the photos I downloaded from Saira's phone yesterday.
A smiling family gleams back at me. Saira is nestled between her parents, with the little boy laying across the family's outstretched legs, grinning like mad. I click a button, and an astonishing view shines back from the screen: the Grand Canyon. The two parents are gone; instead, the three kids lean against the railing, smiling. I smile slightly, since the children's smiling faces remind me of when I was care-free kid.
Another click. A beautiful woman smiles back at me. Her long black hair is braided, and swept over one shoulder. A white corsage flutters on her wrist, and a guy's arms are linked around her waist. Trees dot the background, and autumn leaves fall through the sky behind the couple. I feel a pang in my chest, and quickly click the button again.
A teenage boy glares at me from the screen. A small smile curls the fawn-haired boy's lips, and his dark eyes glimmer with mischief. Another click, and I see a younger Saira sitting next to the boy, leaning her head against his shoulder, a playful smile on her lips. Another pang sounds in my chest, and I click the button once more. The same boy has Saira on his back, and she's reaching for an apple. The next photo shows the two on the green grass, laughing.
Another click. The sudden change from humor to horror shocks me. Gleaming from the photo is a house, perishing in gold-red flames. I see the silhouettes of firefighters aiming hoses at the roaring flames, but the picture is caught in such complete perfection that the water seems to become part of the flames.
I click the button again, and see four smiling faces gleam back at me. The family, with roses and lillies around their photo. My stomach curls at the familiar sight of graves in the background, and the pit of earth shown below the gray marble headstones. I turn away from my laptop, gut clenching. I find it horrible and sad that Saira keeps these photos on her phone, photos of the family she believes she murdered. Not looking at the screen, I click the button, praying for it to show something happy.
It does. Two smiling girl faces stare back at me, caught mid-laugh. One has vibrant red hair, pale skin, and numerous freckles. The other has short blonde hair and sparkling brown eyes. The next photo shows the same two girls, but with Saira in between them, as if taking a selfie. The next photo is similar, but with two boys on either side of the three girls.
Another picture shows a beautiful beach, caught at sunset. Lights gleam on the palm trees in the background, probably from a stage. People lounge on the sand, and the water glitters like jewels. I hear Aaron exit the bathroom, and quickly close the beautiful image of Saira's spring break vacation.
I try to shake off my mood during breakfast that morning, but I can't. My eyes keep going to Saira, who hides behind her tangled hair. Even in the van, I try to text her, but no reply comes through.
Suddenly, stone walls come into view as we near our destination. The second part of our lockdown, a two-night event. The Ande Prison.
As I unload some equipment from the van, I feel a hand on my shoulder. I turn, expecting Aaron, but find Saira instead. "Zak, I'm telling you this now. Last night was a one-time thing, okay? Ever ask about my scars again, and you'll be sorry. And, also, snap out of your funk; it's really obvious and really annoying." She turns away before I can even open my mouth, and stalks off. I'm left there, gaping like a fish, staring after her as she rounds the van to talk to Jay up front.
I blink, then snap back into my interview-mode. I put an EVP recorder in my pocket, just in case, and walk around to the front of the vans. With my crew following me, I walk through the prison doors.
One of the guards, by the name of Michael, greets us as we walk in. We start talking as he leads us down the long cell blocks. I hear shouts come from above, and glance up to see hard, angry faces pressed against cell bars. I turn to Michael, shock on my face, and ask,"Is this prison still in use?"
Michael looks flustered, his gray eyes flickering upward to the prisoners. His hands run through his brown hair, as if by habit, as he says,"Yeah. Yeah, it is. But the part you're investigating isn't. We had to shut that part down when the murders became too frequent." "And how frequent were the murders?" I ask. From somewhere behind me, I hear Saira whisper,"Every day," as Michael sighs and says,"Two every day. The cells were slick with blood."
We walk up onto one of the catwalks, and I look around at one of the prisoners. Tattoos cover every inch of skin on him, and his hard, black eyes remind me of wolf's. He sneers at me as I pass. Then, I hear coos and whistles as the men catch sight of Saira. Anger burns in my chest, and I almost snap. But, as I glance back, I see Saira glaring at the men, flipping them off as she walks by. They laugh at her, and start cat-calling.
"When are you gonna kill for me, baby doll?" one calls from a farther back cell. Saira snaps back,"When you start to show respect, you piece of crap." I hear her pain in her voice, and flinch in sympathy. The rest of the men start to yell, screaming and roaring. Saira looks around, a pleased expression on her face, and catches my eye. A small smile curls her lips, and she looks away. Where did this Saira come from?
Suddenly, freezing wind pounds my face. I turn, finding myself outside in a courtyard. Stone circles us on all sides, making me feel small with the high walls and guards patrolling the ramparts. Michael leads us to the other half of the prison, keeping his head low in the gale. "The prisoners say that the ghosts and angry spirits cause the winds whenever they come out here. I only half believe them." I hear a snort behind me, and glance over my shoulder in time to see Saira's eyes roll skyward. I glare at her, but she looks away.
We cross the yard, and enter the building once more. I find myself on another catwalk, peering down at the floor six levels below. "This section of the prison was built into the ground. Harder to get out, since sixteen feet of concrete circles these walls. The bars are made of steel, but are coated in sulfuric acid at night. This is, by the prisoners, called Devil's Wing." Michael looks pleased with himself, but I sense that he's on edge, for being in this place where several violent men died.
I glance back at Saira once more, and see her looking another way. Quite intently, actually. And her lips are moving, as if she's silently talking to someone. I watch her, and hold up my hand to stall whatever Michael was going to say next. Wordlessly, I take out the recorder, and click on.
After a few minutes of intense silence, Saira looks back towards me. Her face is pale and eyes unfocused. She says, so quiet I almost believe she never spoke at all,"This place is the house of the devil. The things that've happened in this place-This prison should've never been built. Not beneath the earth. The blood that has been spilt here, it has soaked through these walls of stone. The demons taste the blood of man, and crave more. Not even we are safe here."
Saira blinks, and her eyes focus again. She looks around, noticing everyone's eyes on her, and blushes. Her cheeks turn to flame, but her eyes turn to stone. "What?" We all blink at her, sure she's playing us, but her complete befuddlement has me convinced that she had no clue what she had just said. She glares at everyone around her, and I turn to continue the interview with Michael.
Apparently, numerous crimes had been committed behind these walls. Killings, obviously, but also theft, fights, rape, suicide, and abuse. No man alive, said Michael, knew entirely what happened behind these gates after night fell. My trained ears catch Saira murmur,"But there is a woman." I take a deep breath, and try to quell my annoyance. If only she could learn to keep her mouth shut.
The interview with Michael ends, and we move to go to the other end of the prison wing, where the next interviewee waits for us. I pull Saira away from the group, who continue on, oblivious.
"You really need to learn to keep your thoughts to yourself," I snarl as I pull Saira by the elbow to a shadowy corner. Her eyes, like perfect circles of jade, flash like lightning, and she snarls back,"I thought you wanted my abilities. I thought you wanted to know what the ghosts here thought about this hell hole. The Devil himself terrorized these men and women." I blink, taken aback by how much Saira had heard from the spirits. "Yes, there were women here as well. Murderers, all of them. Some had kids in here by the other convicts. The kids were thrown in orphanages without a second thought. One of the ghosts I talked to had twins. Both children were separated in different orphanages. Apparently, she had more love for her kids than for the thirteen men she slaughtered into bits and fed to her cows."
I blink, surprised by this outflow of information. Saira shakes her head and breaks my hold on her elbow with little effort, yet my grip on her bone was strong. "I know, surprising. The things that I heard as soon as I entered the prison grounds-they aren't good, Zak. They've been talking to me ever since I stepped out of the van. That's why I was snappy with you. These spirits, all their anger and resentment and hate, are all filling me up the longer I listen to them and talk to them. I can't stop it, and I don't know if I can control my abilities."
"What other abilities do you have?" I ask, waiting for her glare, which I've come to expect from asking about her personal life. Or at least a raising-of-the-shells that I could always see in her shoulders, her eyes, the tilt of her head. But no rebuttal shows; instead, she gazes into my eyes, as if searching for answers there. "I can control, summon, and banish demons. I can summon spirits, and can transfer thoughts with them. Sometimes, I allow them to possess me so that way they can say what they want to say." I gape at her, shocked. "I know, Zak. Possessions are bad. Blah blah blah. But these spirits that I let into me... They're not evil. They're exactly like me. I can even share their memories if they wish to show them. That's why I've been muttering things all through this tour. It's just fucking overwhelming as shit."
She stares at the floor, and I expect a tear to show in her eye as she looks back up. But, again I'm surprised. Complete and utter happiness shines in her eyes. She smiles, and says,"You're handsome, you know." With that, she walks away, a little flutter in her step. For a second, I thought I saw her eyes flash red-black as she said that, and her voice turned a little dreamy. I shake my head, and walk after the girl and my crew.
As we exit the building after the last interview, my stomach rumbles. Aaron laughs while Billy rolls his eyes. Saira is quiet, as is Jay, as we put our equipment back in the van. We drive back to the hotel, everything and everyone completely silent. Then, my phone buzzes. I take it out, and see Saira's picture on my screen, along with a text.
Opening the text, I stare at it for a few seconds before reading it. We should investigate the prison tomorrow. Tomorrow, there will be a prison riot. I read the text a few more times, then send a reply. A riot? Why would you want us to go back during a riot? I almost feel Saira roll her eyes, then see another text pop up on my screen. A spirit prisoner riot, Zak. Tomorrow is the anniversary of the Ande Prison Riot. 19 prisoners dead, 13 harmed. 7 guards dead, 3 tied up and beaten. 1967. Big news. The ghost I talked to said that for fun they did the riot over again, scaring the prisoners. It's like a sport to them.
I blink, digesting this information. Then, my fingers moving as if by themselves, I type, Ok. Tomorrow we'll investigate the prison. I see the bubble pop up like she's texting, then see it disappear. I feel a small smile curl my lips, and I look out the window. No matter what she said, I was going to visit Saira again tonight.