It was a bit too late to be having second thoughts, but I couldn't stop myself from wondering if I'd really done the right thing in signing up for the study. I desperately needed the money, but I was already starting to get a bad feeling about the whole business, and my bad feelings were rarely wrong. The others didn't seem nervous at all. I looked around and saw that the five other subjects were all either dozing or staring vacantly out the limo's tinted windows. I couldn't sit still, and the guy sitting next to me, I was pretty sure his name was Nate, kept letting his head fall on my shoulder as he slept. You'd think that they'd be a little bit more alert considering where we were being taken.
"What the hell am I doing?" I muttered to myself, shoving Nate's head off of me. I tried to keep calm, but by the time an hour had passed, I had started shaking. Some part of me really didn't want to go through with this, and it was trying to convince the rest of me to just open the limo door and jump out onto the side of the road.
No,
I thought.
I need this too badly. Four thousand dollars. Four thousand dollars. Just keep thinking that. At the end of this, they're going to pay you four thousand dollars.
I forced myself to ignore the shivers wracking my body. When I get a bad feeling about something, and then do it anyway, my body revolts. I start shaking and sometimes I get headaches or feel nauseas. I guess that's why Doctor Andrew's was so interested in putting me in the study. He was writing a book about the effect of haunting phenomena on psychics. I had never thought of myself as a psychic, but Andrews told me that my test results were incredible, said he'd never seen anything like it. He said the symptoms that accompany my bad feelings are indicative of a very high level of psychic sensitivity. I guess he's the one with the degree, but I still have difficulty thinking of myself as a psychic.
Someone cleared their throat loudly in the sleepy stillness of the limo, and I almost jumped out of my seat. My shivering had gotten worse, and I had to clench my jaw to stop my teeth from chattering. I looked around and saw that the opaque glass which divided the front seats from the rest of the limo had opened up, and that Doctor Andrews was leaning through it, waiting to address us. I poked Nate a few times to wake him up, and eventually managed to get him to crack an eye open.
"Doctor Andrews wants to talk to us," I said.
"Why?" he grunted.
"How should I know? He probably wants to brief us or something."
Nate sat up in his seat and yawned, stretching his arms towards the ceiling. The rest of the limo's occupants had already awoken, and were looking expectantly at Doctor Andrews.
After he was sure that he had everyone's attention, Andrews cleared his throat again and began to speak. "First of all, I want to thank you all again for enrolling in this study. I know some of you may be a bit apprehensive about the nature of the experiment--"
From beside me, Nate snorted and rolled his eyes. I shot him a nasty look. Everyone else seemed to feel similar to Nate, though. Amused looks shot around the limo, and one of the women even giggled. I huddled in my corner and glared at them. Was I the only one taking this seriously?
Andrews cleared his throat for a third time, and I was tempted to offer him a cough drop. "As I was saying, I know some of you may be feeling a bit nervous." He looked at me, and I tried to smile at him, but I couldn't unclench my jaw. "That's completely normal. We are, after all going to be spending the next four weeks in a 'haunted house,' if you will excuse the dreadful cliché." He laughed, and looked around at us as if expecting we would join in. When no one did, he continued. "We will be arriving in about ten minutes, and I wanted to go over a few details beforehand. This is all in your informational packets, of course, but I want to make sure that everyone understands the procedures which we will be following." He fumbled for a page of notes and looked down at it before continuing.
"As I'm sure you know, Carleton House is over two hundred years old. No known tragedies have ever occurred there, but almost as soon as it was built, the house began to gain a reputation as a haunted dwelling. Also, an inordinately large amount of people seemed to have died of natural causes within its walls. I have spoken to a few of the house's previous occupants, but they were all unwilling to speak about their experiences with the house, so I am unsure as to what we should expect. As psychics—"
The woman who had giggled before released a peal of laughter which she quickly stifled with a hand over her mouth. Doctor Andrews ignored her.
"As psychics, I anticipate that you will all be more sensitive to any spiritual disturbances within the house. I ask that you record anything you see, hear, feel, or sense within the house in the journals which I've provided for you. I also ask that you keep a daily record of your activities and that you write down any dreams you might have during your stay. The goal of this study is to see if we can determine the nature of the haunting within this house as well as studying its effects on the psychic mind, so any visions or sensations you might experience must be recorded in detail. Anything might provide a clue as to the reasons behind the house's rather intimidating reputation. Also, let me remind you that we will be operating on the buddy system. No one is to go wandering the house alone, so if you have not already selected a partner, please do so within the next few minutes. Any last minute questions?"
We all shook our heads, and Andrews nodded. "Alright then. We'll be there shortly." He settled back into his seat and the opaque divider slid closed once more, obscuring the front of the limo from view. Silence fell as we rounded a curve and got our first look at Carleton House.
My first glimpse of it was not at all encouraging. The house stood perched on a hill, seeming to brood over the town below. From far away, the building looked black, but I knew from photos which we had been given that it was really made of weathered dark gray stone. The windows were all shuttered and dark, and reminded me of eyes which have been closed in a facsimile of sleep. Suddenly, a searing pain shot through my temples, and I must have given a little squeak, because Nate turned to look at me curiously.
"What is it?" he asked.
"Nothing," I said, massaging my forehead. The pain had settled into a dull, pulsing ache inside my skull. "Just a headache." He looked at me for a moment longer and then shrugged before turning to look out the window.
"Ugly place, isn't it?" He commented, staring up at Carleton House as we began our ascent up the hill. "Glad I don't have to live here permanently."
"Yeah," I muttered, still rubbing my head.
"So, Penny, what kind of psychic are you pretending to be?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I'm a telepath, and so are Leon and James. Susan and Linda are both clairvoyants. Or at least that's what we told Andrews so we could get places in the study." Nate grinned at me, and I stared back at him.
"You're all just pretending?" I asked, inwardly wincing at how childish I sounded. The whole car burst into laughter.
