Final Girl Michelle Schusterman (the gingerbread man read aloud TXT) 📖

rest of the crew. Oscar was still in the armchair, staring blankly at the sofa. I gently nudged his leg with my foot. “You okay?”

He jumped slightly and looked up at me. “What? Yeah. Fine.”

“Guess you’re not the only one who plays the what if game,” I said, keeping my voice as casual as possible. Oscar tried to look annoyed and failed.

“Yeah,” he said, shouldering his backpack. “I guess not.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN KNOCK, KNOCK

P2P WIKI

Entry: “Portal”

[Last edited by AntiSimon]

In paranormal studies, the term portal generally means a doorway between our physical world and the spirit world. Portals can theoretically allow spirits to enter our world, and humans to enter the spirit world. In season 1, episode 13, of Passport to Paranormal, the crew visited Blacksmith Bar in New Orleans, which the owners claimed was the site of a portal haunting, letting in restless, occasionally angry spirits. Sam Sumners attempted to close the portal, with inconclusive results.

RYANG Psychiatric Hospital was eerie in an entirely different way from any other location I’d explored with Passport to Paranormal. Crimptown and the catacombs had been dark and cramped and deep underground. Daems Penitentiary was a classic horror movie setting—an enormous, concrete structure in the middle of nowhere. The waterfall in Salvador was beautiful, but exploring the woods in the dead of night gave you the feeling that someone was always watching, hidden in the dark just out of sight. And the fog swirling around the Yongheng Bridge, not to mention the sheer drops into a black abyss, made it an undeniably spooky setting.

In contrast, fluorescent lights blazed in the hallways of the hospital. No spiderwebs or decades’ worth of grime; every room was scrubbed clean and smelled like bleach. The beds were neatly made, and the shelves were still stocked with medical equipment. I knew the Talchul Films crew had kept it this way on purpose, but the overall impression was that the entire staff and all the patients had vanished into thin air just moments ago. The deserted yet clinical atmosphere made me picture some evil doctor lurking in one of the empty rooms, scalpel in hand, waiting for his next “patient.”

It might have been my imagination, but everyone seemed to be keeping a closer eye on me than usual. When I lingered behind in the doctors’ lounge for a few seconds to see if the TV worked (it didn’t), I found Roland just outside the door tying his shoe. When I stepped inside the pantry in the kitchen, Lidia followed me even though she’d already checked it out a few minutes earlier. By the time we got up to the second floor, I was pretty irritated and half considering hiding out in a room by myself for a minute or two, just to get some privacy. But that would be breaking Dad’s number one rule for these investigations, and I didn’t need to give him any more reasons to quit the show.

Although at the moment, he didn’t look like a man who was unhappy with his job. Pretty much the exact opposite. After four months and five episodes, he’d developed an easy rapport with Roland and Sam on camera. And he and Grandma were the perfect cohosts—no surprise, at least not to me. I’d watched countless horror movies with the two of them, and their commentary and arguments with each other over plot twists and special effects were always hilarious.

I tried to imagine him having this much fun on Live with Wendy and . . . there was just no way. Dad loved this job. He really, really loved it. I couldn’t let him quit because of me.

No, not because of me. Because of the Thing.

“Now this brings back memories,” Grandma announced when we entered the director’s office. She immediately walked over to the desk and sat behind it, clasping her hands and surveying the rest of us imperiously. “About half the scenes I filmed in The Asylum took place in the Warden’s office. Camera placement was tricky, because there was a full-length mirror on the back of the door . . . Oh, well look at that!”

Lidia had just closed the door, and we all turned to see a mirror perfectly reflecting Grandma seated behind the desk. Mi Jin stepped behind Grandma, carefully holding the camera just over her head. Jess backed into a corner, slowly panning over the rest of our faces.

“I gotta say, Edie,” Roland said, “I never really got the ending to that movie.”

Dad and I exchanged a grin as Grandma sighed.

“You and most critics,” she said dryly. “Fortunately, there are horror fans out there who can handle a little complexity in their films. Sam, darling, I think you’d love it.”

Oscar snickered, but Roland looked unfazed. “Enlighten me, then. Was the—”

A soft thump-thump cut him off, and we all stared at the door. I did a quick head count; we hadn’t left anyone in the hall. The atmosphere in the room shifted immediately. Dad, who was closest to the door, put his hand on the knob and glanced at Jess. She took a few steps closer, her camera trained on him, and nodded. Dad turned the knob and stepped back, allowing the door to drift open.

No one was there.

We all let out a collective breath. “Everyone heard that, right?” Lidia asked softly, and everyone nodded. Sam stepped outside with her, glancing up and down the corridor and frowning. Jess and Roland joined them, and their footsteps faded after a few seconds.

Dad closed the door quietly behind them, then stepped back and waited. Oscar and I stayed silent. We knew the drill; at the first sign of possible paranormal activity, we had to give the ghost enough time to try to communicate again. Mi Jin’s camera was still rolling, aimed at the door from her spot behind Grandma.

After nearly two full minutes of dead silence, Dad sighed. “Shall we go see if the others have had any luck?” he asked. Grandma stood, and Mi Jin and Oscar headed for