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"Don't be afraid of the dark they say, but what do you do when the darkness isn't the scariest thing around?"
He speaks with grand, elaborate gestures and Iceman can't help but roll his eyes. Maverick, or Pete, his real name, is the newest hire around, and he's taking this job way too seriously.
Together, they work at a so-called 'haunted house.’ It used to be a retirement home for naval aviators, however, it closed down sometime after the Vietnam War. Too many reports of bumps in the night and 'ghosts'. Iceman, well, Tom, his actual name, never believed a word of it.
It's an old building, hell, it was old even when the veterans walked these halls. Of course, there's going to be unexplainable noises. Rusty pipes, creaky floor steps, windows that won't shut properly. There's a natural explanation for all of the events, no need to make a haunted house out of it. But because they had, Tom now has to go by his stupid callsign 'Iceman' and dress up in a flight suit whenever he works. All to fit the theme of the Raggedy Top Gun Manor.
"They say that if you see the ghost of nurse Charlie, bad news will be delivered to you or your family-"
The group let out an almost collective gasp. Here we go again.
"-but fear not dear audience! We happen to know the secret to keeping her away. Lieutenant, care to continue?"
That was his cue to take over from Pete. As much as he didn't like his colleague's - sorry - wingman's overenthusiastic approach, Tom still had a job to do. He's been the best tour guide at the Raggedy Top Gun Manor since he started two years ago. Pulling off his aviator glasses for effect, earning an inhale from someone, he flashes their small audience a bright smile.
"You," Tom points at one of the kids in the front. The little boy has eyes like a puppy, big and brown, and he startles when Tom focuses his attention on him. "Name a plane that the Navy used to fly in the Korean War."
"The McDonnell Douglas F-4 Phantom II, sir," the kid pipes up.
"That's correct," Tom says.
He knew the kid would get the question, he's been starstruck by the both of them since the tour started and he's carrying a toy model of an F-14 Tomcat.
Tom turns back to the rest of the group. "And that's how you keep the ghost of Nurse Charlie away. Offer her knowledge about naval aviation and she will-"
"It's said that Charlie was fascinated with aviation," Pete interrupts, " You see, women at the time could only serve in the military as nurses and-"
"Thank you, Lieutenant Maverick," Tom says sharply, "I was getting to that."
And this is why he can't stand the guy.
No matter what Tom does, Pete always has to interject. There is always a fact to show off, some secret knowledge he has to share with the group. Sure, Pete's the new guy, being new is scary, except there’s a difference between new-hire nerves and being a pretentious know-it-all. It doesn't help either that Pete looks so smug while doing it like he's done them all a great favor. If Tom has to see that crinkle around Pete's green eyes, he might just go ahead and quit himself.
They finish off the tour not so long after that. It had been a bigger group for once with lots of families, which was why the two of them had been required to take care of it together. Tom didn't like it one bit, he wished that Ron were still here, but no, the guy had to go and get his dream job and leave him here to be stuck with Pete. Out of everyone they could’ve gotten to replace Ron, Pete sure was the shortest one around.
Ron had looked him up and down on his last day, cracked up a big smile, and thrown an arm around Pete.
“I'm sure you and Iceman will get along well, short stack,” Ron had laughed, “And that’s Mr. Iceman to you.”
Pete seemed downright terrified at first, and then their eyes had met and that crinkle appeared. Tom had never figured out what the crinkle meant. It ranged from Pete looking like he knew how to get his hand into the cookie jar, to how to get away with not doing the closing shift.
“Well that was fun, wasn't it?”
Tom nearly jumps on the spot. That was another one of Pete's annoying qualities, showing up out of nowhere at supersonic speed. One minute he was there and the next he’d shuffled off on the next adventure.
“It was alright,” Tom mutters, “That kid adored you.”
In the distance, he’d seen Pete chatting with the kid carrying the F-14 Tomcat. The mother, a blonde woman, had gushed about how cute their flight suits were and that they looked just like the real deal.
“Ah, his name was Bradley,” Pete smiles, “Wants to be a pilot just like his father, that’s why he knew so much about planes.”
Tom nods in response, already checking out of the conversation. He has about an hour left before his shift ends and then when he gets home, he's going to pour himself a big glass of wine and read the next chapter of the book he just started. No more mind-numbingly boring conversations about planes or ghosts-
“So what do you say we flip a coin?” Pete asks, interrupting Tom's plans for a nice evening.
Tom has to bite his tongue to not show that he got caught off guard. Apparently, Pete kept talking and he hadn't listened to a word of it. That was rude, even when you don't like the guy.
“We can do that,” Tom says, not knowing what it is he's agreeing to, “Heads.”
Pete pulls out a coin and has it in the air before either of them realizes what is about to happen. Some stragglers from the group come running towards them, gunning it for the exit. One of them bumps into Pete, causing him to drop the coin, while the other one runs screaming out of the door.
“We saw her!”
It doesn’t register what the person said, not until they’re long gone and the exit slams shut after them. Tom blinks, looking between Pete and the people who left. Pete looks just as confused as Tom feels. What the hell was that about? They’ve had people run out screaming before and that was usually in combination with their Halloween tours and those don't start for another week.
“Shit, I can't see where the coin went.”
Pete stands hunched over by one of the many drawers. It's impossible to look underneath it. The drawer is practically touching the floor, and even if they could see something the coin likely disappeared between the wooden floorboards. Not that it matters now; they have more pressing matters to attend to.
“Forget about the coin,” Tom says, “We need to figure out what happened.”
Not waiting for Pete to follow him, Tom simply turns on the spot and heads for the office. They have a top-of-the-line security system, it had to be installed after one too many military enthusiasts insisted on stealing navy memorabilia. Pete enters the room just as Tom finds the footage he was looking for.
It shows the door to room 86 and for a while nothing happens. Then he sees the stragglers sneaking in only to come running out a minute later. Bastards.
“We told them not to go in there alone,” Pete remarks.
Tom startles again from having Pete appear over his shoulder. The guy could be a stealth pilot. He hums in agreement, rewinding the footage so they can look at it again.
It is said that room 86 became haunted after Nurse Charlie died there. She worked at the Top Gun Manor from its opening until her retirement, when she supposedly laid down for a nap one day and never woke up. The pilots living there were so distraught by her death that legend has it she heard them beyond the grave and came back to care for them.
They’ve played it up in the years that followed. Saying that she came back to haunt the pilots on their deathbeds. That she’ll curse you if you step into the room she died in. No one wants to go to a haunted house and hear about a loving nurse.
Either way, it’s all bullshit if you ask Tom.
“Could've been anything that scared them,” Tom scoffs, “We've had rats before.”
“Oh, come on, don't be like that, Iceman,” Pete says, nudging Toms's shoulder, “We should check it out.”
He would rather deal with fifty tours filled with annoying tourists than check the room out with Pete. On top of being an insistent know-it-all, Pete actually believes the place is haunted.
“You go ahead, I have things to do anyways-”
Pete interrupts him before he can finish his sentence. “It's perfect, don't you see? Now we don’t need the coin; we have to check out the rooms anyways!”
So that’s what they were flipping a coin about.
Tourists always have the most annoying timing. Why did the stragglers have to go in there today of all days?
Their closing routine consists of checking out all of the floors and locking the rooms before the alarm turns on automatically at 8 P.M. When Tom first started, they didn't have to check and lock the rooms. However, some kids had thought it was a great idea to try and stay the night to see if they could capture Nurse Charlie on camera. The only thing they caught on camera was an angry Ron throwing them out head-first, and now Tom has to do extra work as a result.
“Fine,” Tom reluctantly agrees, “But let's make it quick, I don’t wanna be stuck here all night.”
If only he knew.
They start by checking out the bottom floor. Nothing out of the ordinary there other than someone’s dropped candy wrappers. Pete jokes that they should use it for the Halloween decoration they’ll be putting up next week, something about telling the groups that Nurse Charlie will haunt them if they litter. Tom couldn’t care less about the candy wrappers. As they wander the halls, he wonders how the hell he ended up here.
Working at a haunted mansion wasn’t something he ever thought he’d find himself doing. However, his bills must be paid somehow, and this was one of the few jobs that his degree was useful for. Just like his father and his father before him, Tom is pursuing a master’s degree in history, with his specialty being military and naval history. He got the job shortly after finishing his bachelors and since then he’s been stuck here.
Sure, the money is easy, except he can’t shake the feeling of wanting more. Tom’s life consists of nothing but mountains of paperwork. He doesn’t even have time for a social life, not since Ron left. It used to be so easy with Ron; he seemed to just instinctually know whenever Tom had spent too many hours buried in a book and needed a night out. Now he was stuck here, giving tours to uninterested tourists and listening to Pete boast.
“Did you know that these tools are still used today for making repairs?” Pete asks.
Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Pete’s holding up an item that looks like a mix of a screwdriver and a hammer. For a moment, Tom is glad he didn’t specialize in engineering history.
“I didn’t know that,” Tom says, “Let's move on.”
They head for the second floor, the staircase creaking appropriately as they walk upstairs. Everything looks as it should be there too. Not even the spiderwebs have been disturbed. There’s a glimpse of the setting sun through the window, the orange color fills the main hallway, painting the white walls in a warm golden glow. It’s easy to forget that they’re working in a haunted house with a sight like that.
“Hard to think this place is haunted,” Pete states, more to himself than Tom.
A chill runs down his spine. It’s so eerily similar to what Tom just thought. He blinks, looking between Pete and the hallway. The bright hues reach where they’re standing and Tom notices with surprise how the sunset brings out the brown in Pete’s hair. The whole sun seems to be bringing out the best in him. From the tones of Pete’s sun-kissed skin to the shadow of a dimple. He doesn’t look smug for once. He looks kind, like a sunflower perking up from some rays of sunlight.
Tom wills away the thoughts and clears his throat. Pete, a sunflower? He’s read too many romance novels again.
“Suppose so,” He says instead, “Come on, let’s get this over with.”
“Right, let’s start with room 86!” Pete suggests, already moving towards the room at the far end of the corridor.
Fast as always, Tom has to sprint two steps to catch up with Pete. “No, we’re meant to go through them in order, Pete. We have the routines for a reason.”
“We do, but we also have a haunted room and I say that goes above any routine,” Pete says matter of factly. He gives Tom a knowing look, that smug glint flashing by for a second.
“It’s just a room,” Tom groans, rolling his eyes.
“You know, that’s what I don’t get about you, Iceman,” Pete smiles, not deterred for a second by Tom’s mood, “How can you work in a haunted house and not believe in ghosts?”
How can you believe in them in the first place? Tom wants to bring up all of the reasons why he doesn’t believe in the supernatural, except the look on Pete’s face stops him. He’s curious, that’s for sure, though beneath that, there’s something else. Uncertainty? Fear? Is he afraid Tom would ridicule him for believing in ghosts?
“It just doesn’t make sense.” Tom mumbles, clearing his throat again.
Relief floods Pete’s features and a laugh escapes. “You’re gonna have to think of a better argument than that!”
The door is still open to room 86 and no light is coming out. Tom steps inside and notices that all the curtains are pulled down in front of the window, making the room appear darker than it really is. No wonder the stragglers were too afraid to shut the door behind them. There are shapes and patterns in every corner because of the shadows, something they’ve used on more than one occasion to scare the tourists. Tom flips the light switch and Pete joins him.
It’s a simple room, plainly furnished with a bed, armchair, and an old TV. A muted yellow wallpaper covers the walls and a painting hangs above the bed. The only other door leads to a bathroom and a closet is mounted into the wall.
“I guess Nurse Charlie didn’t need more than this,” Pete comments.
Pete's opened the bathroom door and it’s as plain as the rest of the bedroom. Tom swipes a finger over the TV, noting with distaste that it could use a dusting.
“There was a bookshelf before, but we had to remove it,” He says, “People kept trying to steal the books.”
“Really?” Pete snorts from the bathroom, “People have no respect for the dead.”
Now that Tom will agree wholeheartedly with. He might not believe in ghosts and all that entails, but people’s morbid fascination with death has made him wonder if this job is really worth it. Asking if they can see pictures of Nurse Charlie’s corpse, wanting to know the explicit details about the battle-injured veterans. Nothing is sacred to them.
Either way, the bed is neatly made, the cushion in the armchair is puffed up, and nothing has been moved out of place. Tom can’t see anything that might’ve caused the people to run out screaming.
He walks over to the window to pull the curtain up when all of a sudden, the door slams shut.
The echo rings loudly in the room.
Tom immediately drops the curtain and spins around on the spot. He scans the room, half expecting someone to jump out and try to scare them. Pete darts out of the bathroom like a cannonball, eyes frenzied. He looks between the door, then at Tom, and back again.
“What the fuck was that?” Pete exclaims.
Tom shakes his head, he knows about as much as Pete. Maybe they left a window open in any of the other rooms?
Pete marches over to the door, giving the handle a good tug, and nothing happens. He fiddles with the handle again, getting visibly frustrated when it doesn’t move. Even the painting on the wall seems to have shifted from the force of the door, but not the handle.
"Come on, sweetheart…" Pete tries again and again. "It’s not budging!"
Honestly, Tom probably shouldn’t have expected anything else from Pete. His patience has run out by now. "Of course, it isn’t.The doors here are old. They seem to have a will of their own sometimes."
"Oh don't give me that," Pete snaps, "Soon you're gonna tell me it was just the wind."
Well, he usually feels a breeze coming from this room, but he doesn't have to tell Pete that.
Tom pushes Pete away from the door to try the handle himself, causing their fingers to brush for a second. It's like getting a static shock, except there's nothing electric about getting locked inside with a colleague he can't stand. Pete also doesn't need to know that his heart just skipped a beat, shit happens, and Tom ends up grabbing the handle harder than necessary.
"These doors go into deadlock sometimes," Tom grunts, "You just have to know the trick."
He presses his weight against the door, wiggling the handle before yanking it sharply upwards, and- Nothing. He tries again and the door isn't budging. Shit.
"I told you so," Pete mutters, crossing his arms in the process.
"Thanks, that’s really gonna help us get out of here, genius," Tom says. He’s on his fourth attempt to open the door and it still hasn’t moved. Normally he’d have his phone with him for the tours, but of course, the one time he needs it he’s left it in his bag. "Did you bring your phone with you?"
Pete groans, "No, it's still in the locker room."
Not good. This is not good. Tom has been locked in before, and usually, there’s another colleague who can open the door for him. He's never been locked in with his only option of getting out. Shit.
"What time is it?" Tom asks.
The sun has just set, and it won't be long until it's completely dark outside.
Pete checks his watch and makes a face, "7:15."
Shit. Regardless of if they follow the closing routine, the alarm will automatically turn on at 8 P.M. In other words, they have 45 minutes to get out of here unless they want to get locked in overnight.
They try everything.
Pete pushes his body against the door while Tom does the trick again but to no avail. They find a hairpin that Pete tries to pick the lock with and unfortunately, the only result they get is the pin breaking. There's a keypad on the side of the door that's connected to the alarm, which none of them have the code to. Pete attempts to get it open, only for it to do so just in time for the alarm to go into effect. They hear the grandfather clock downstairs ring tauntingly until it strikes 8.
"Damn it," Tom curses.
"I might still get it open," Pete says, ”Find me anything that could double as a screwdriver.”
”And where do you think I'll find that? There’s nothing in here that could be used as a tool,” Tom says and throws his hands in the air.
”How about you think outside of the box for once, Iceman?” Pete retorts, sending him a sharp glare.
Tom tries to think of a witty quip, however, there’s no point in arguing if they want to get out of here today. When she was alive, Nurse Charlie used to have a little bit of everything available. Sewing kits, scissors, tape, except all of that was cleared out long ago. He searches the room for something sturdy and sharp and comes up empty-handed.
Tom throws himself on the bed in frustration. This is not how he wanted to spend his Friday night. He pinches the bridge of his nose, letting the hand travel further upwards and through his hair. Why did those people have to sneak into the room?
Suddenly, something sharp pricks his skin.
”Ow!” Tom yelps.
”You good over there?” Pete asks.
Tom leaps out of bed and notices that where his hand was, there’s a loose bed spring poking up from the mattress.
”Yes, I think I found something!”
Tom rips out the bed spring with all of his might, already typing out the apology email in his head. He shapes the spring into something that resembles the tip of a screwdriver and brings it over to Pete. Watching him get to work is truly something else, it's different from the bubbly tour guide everyone loves. A laser-sharp focus narrows Pete's eyes as he undoes the keypad and starts to intertwine the loose wires.
”Where’d you learn how to do that?” Tom asks.
”I’m a mechanic. This is just a side gig while I do my apprenticeship at the shop,” Pete says, his tongue wedged between his lips in concentration, ”Maybe if I can fry the alarm system we’ll be able to break down the door-”
”We are not breaking in the door,” Tom says sternly, ”This door is antique. You wouldn’t be able to get a replica anywhere.”
”And what do you suggest we do?” Pete drops the wires and gets up in Tom’s face. ”Because I would love to know if you have any better ideas, Mr Iceman.”
Pete's voice reeks with sarcasm. Tom can see the irritation reflecting in his eyes and he wants nothing more than to shove Pete off. It's bad enough that Tom's already freaking out about ruining the door, Pete's reckless and dangerous and not someone you should have around places of historical value.
It’s not his brightest move, except now Tom is fuelled by anger. He snaps his teeth at Pete, like he's some sort of dog. It's not an 'aha' moment where the stars move into place, if anything it confuses Tom even more. He feels Pete's eyes all over him, from his eyes to his lips. The creaky floorboards outside has nothing on the rapid pace of Tom's beating heart.
This is really going to be a long night.
”Enough with the pissing contest,” Tom says, trying to gain an ounce of control back, ”You do realize that the managers will notice something is wrong? We haven’t sent in the daily report, and someone will come looking.”
Or at least that’s what he hopes. Pete seems to pick up on the hesitance.
”Who would even bother checking that on a Friday night?” Pete shouts, ”You might, but I wouldn't. We might be stuck here all weekend if we don't do something!”
”Don’t be ridiculous. There’s a tour tomorrow at noon.” Tom says.
He can't tell if Pete wants to slap him or kiss him, with the way he looks it could be either or. Pete, instead, throws his hand out in frustration, muttering that he doesn’t get paid enough to deal with this, and escapes into the bathroom.
The bathroom door doesn't slam quite as loud as the other one, yet it's enough to make Tom flinch.
”Excellent move, Kazansky, real smart,” Tom says to himself, rubbing both hands over his face.
Should he go after Pete? No, that’d be stupid; he hasn’t done anything wrong. It’s not his fault if Pete doesn't understand the historical significance of this place. Tom's professors would kill him if he let any harm come to this place. They'll just have to wait until someone finds them.
After an hour of no sign of Pete, Tom is damn near clawing at the walls.
He knows that someone will notice that they’re gone, still, he can’t just sit and wait and do nothing. Waiting here is like sitting through a boring lecture with a teacher who doesn't bother engaging with the students. You just grit your teeth and wait for it to be over.
The only source of entertainment is the TV and it’s not even a sure thing that it’ll work. Oh well, breaking the TV is better than breaking the door.
”What’re you doing?”
Tom looks over to the bathroom and sees Pete leaning against the doorframe.
”What’s it look like I’m doing?” Tom says, ”I’m trying to get the TV started.”
”If your definition of starting is breaking it, then by all means, go ahead,” Pete snorts, ”Just let me do it.”
Pete pushes him out of the way, almost making him fall on his ass. Tom regains his balance and heads for the armchair with his tail between his legs. At least Pete came out of the bathroom, that has to count for something. He watches as Pete plugs the TV into the wall, opens up the back of it, and just like magic, the TV turns on.
”I thought you were a mechanic, not an electrician,” Tom says impressed.
For now, it's just static on the TV. Pete slowly moves the antenna around and checks the screen for any difference. ”I am, you pick up on a few tricks in foster care.”
Oh.
Tom tries to think of anything to say, except what can he? Embarrassment floods him like an uncomfortable silence. He realizes how little he knows about his colleague. Pete, who’s been nothing but kind to him, may be a little obnoxious when he guides a tour but that’s honestly the worst of it. How many times has Pete tried to start a conversation with him, only for Tom to reject it?
”I’m sorry to hear that,” Tom tries, wanting to bridge the gap somewhat.
”It’s alright, I don't make a big deal out of it,” Pete says.
Tom notes that Pete is pointedly looking at the TV and not at him. ”Can I ask what happened?”
”My father was a pilot in the Navy, went missing in combat. Presumed dead. Mom followed shortly after,” Pete says, voice void of any emotion. ”Tell me if something happens on the screen.”
They remain in silence like that, Tom deciding that he's pried enough for one day. It makes sense now how Pete knows so much about the Navy. And it makes even more sense why Pete believes in the supernatural when his parents died young.
The antenna finally picks up on a channel and a scene materializes on the glass. The image looks odd and sharp at first, as if the camera is focused on an open ocean, and then the legs come into the picture.
”I’ve seen this one,” Tom says, ”It’s A Nightmare on Elm Street.”
And as if on cue, Freddy Krueger’s clawed hand pops out of the water between Nancy’s legs.
”Didn’t take you as a horror fan,” Pete says and laughs.
Tom will never admit it, but hearing Pete laugh again makes him feel more relieved than he expected. ”I have to relax somehow between writing my papers.”
Pete laughs again, and Tom can't help but smile in return. Pete lays down on the bed flat on his stomach, swinging his legs in the air like he’s one of the teenage girls in a horror movie. Tom can enjoy a horror movies every once in a while; they’re a lot funnier than the documentaries he watches for school.
He explains the plot to Pete, how Freddy Krueger haunts your dreams and tries to kill you. To his surprise, they get absorbed in the movie, bickering about how the characters should look out and what they would do to stay awake. It's nice, a pleasant middle ground where work doesn't come in the way.
Tom doesn't notice it at first, but then he realizes something. Pete is getting scared. He sits up and pulls the bed's pillow to his chest, fingers clutching the fabric whenever the music picks up or there's a jumpscare. Tom glances over once in a while, hoping it's not obvious that he's losing focus on the movie. When Freddy Krueger kills someone again, Pete lets out a squeal and covers his face with the pillow. It takes everything in Tom's power to not comment at how sweet Pete looks. His brows are furrowed and eyes wide as he looks over the pillow. Like a kitten who’s trying to be brave.
”You know it’s not real, right?” Tom says gently, ”It's just a character.”
Pete flinches, eyes flickering from the TV and back to Tom. ”I know, it’s just… Sometimes the older kids in foster care would force me to watch horror movies with them. I remember this one with Kurt Russel they put on and it had the most disgusting alien creatures in it.”
”I know it, it’s called The Thing,” Tom says, slightly appalled someone would show that to a kid. ”We can turn it off if you don’t wanna see it.”
”No, it’s alright,” Pete says quietly, ”We can watch it if you want to.”
If the TV had a remote, Tom would’ve paused the movie by now. He turns around in the armchair, right in tune with the horror sting. ”Are you sure? We can just talk if you’d rather do that.”
”It’s fine,” Pete says, though Tom sees how he grips the pillow tighter, ”Besides, it’s not like there’s anything else to watch.”
They haven't tried switching to another channel and he doesn't bother pointing that out.
”I'll keep you safe if Freddy comes in here,” Tom says, ”See, I’m right in between the door and the bathroom. He’d have to get through me first.”
He motions between the doors and the armchair, fully aware of how corny it is, except he doesn’t care. Pete lights up like the sun at his silly joke, green eyes so happy and relieved. That crinkle has appeared again at the corner's of his eyes. If Tom can put a smile like that on Pete's face again, maybe he won't feel as annoyed when they work with each other next time.
They’re found like that a couple of hours later.
Both of them were asleep, with Tom lounging in the armchair and Pete sprawled out on the bed. Somehow the alarm had gone off while they slept and alerted security.
It’s a drowsy Pete and a flustered Tom who leaves the Raggedy Top Gun Manor that night. Tom’s not sure if Pete noticed, but their hands had been reaching for each other as, if they were holding hands before falling asleep.
This is bad; feelings are dangerous. However, for once Tom feels like doing something reckless.They say a quick goodbye and Pete perks up when Tom suggests they grab a coffee someday soon.
From one of the manor’s many windows, the ghost of Nurse Charlie smiles as she watches them leave.