Agonal Breath (The Deadseer Chronicles Book 1) by Richard Estep Page A
Authors: Richard Estep
Tags: Paranormal Fiction
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probably to act as a deterrent to spook-chasers who wanted to do exactly what we were planning on doing. Brandon slowed and hung a left. Apart from a single Boulder County Sheriff’s patrol cruiser, we hadn’t passed another car ever since leaving Nederland. The Blazer turned onto a rough dirt track which was pretty uneven, but not badly enough to require the 4x4 option to be used.
Maybe twenty feet away from the highway, a metal gate barred our way. It was supported by a concrete pillar that looked pretty sturdy. Brandon put the Blazer into park and went out to take a look.
“We could park here and hop the fence,” I suggested, but Becky didn’t seem to like the idea.
“If the police drive by and see our car parked out here, they’re bound to come and check on us,” she pointed out.
Fortunately, it turned out to be a moot point. Brandon was able to swing the gate open and let us through. “It’s chained and supposed to be padlocked,” he said breathlessly when he returned to take the wheel again “but the padlock wasn’t locked.” Driving through to the other side, he hopped out again and closed the gate once more. Apart from our tire tracks in the mud, we hadn’t left any sign behind that might give away our presence.
The trees rose up high above us on both sides, casting the car interior into heavy shadow. It might have felt a little claustrophobic if it weren’t for the shafts of bright sunlight that came through the gaps in between branches. Craning my neck upwards, I could just about see a strip of clear blue sky directly overhead.
The driveway (actually more of a cross-country track) was long and winding. I was glad to see that Brandon was keeping the speed down, not gunning it like an idiot to try and impress Becky. Her face was practically glued to the windshield and side window, soaking in every detail. The sense of anticipation that she was giving off was almost palpable, excitement radiating from every pore.
Suddenly, the Blazer emerged into the sunlight again. We were free of the driveway, and a wide expanse of relatively clear ground opened up in front of us, mostly grass but with some concrete pathways and sidewalks interspersed around the sea of green and yellow. It was a huge clearing in the woodland, and there, standing tall and proud in the middle of it, was the ruin of Long Brook Sanatorium.
We had arrived.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“I can’t believe we’re actually here…finally here .”
Becky stood on the front lawn, gazing in rapt fascination at the ruins of the former sanatorium.
It certainly was an impressive place, I had to admit. The building was huge. When I had dreamed about it, seeing the place only from the inside, I hadn’t gotten a true sense of the sheer scale of the place. Six floors high, each one except for the ground floor being fronted with empty windows, all of which were dark and shadowy despite the best efforts of the sun up above us.
There was a central building right in the very middle which I had learned from my Google searches was the main administration hub, and then on each side of that, two patient housing wings had been built; at the end of those, two more wings had been added on, so there were a total of four wings built onto the main structure, two on either side. On the ghost-hunting TV show that I had watched with Becky, they had used a few helicopter shots, no doubt to amp up the dramatic elements of the place. You could certainly see how isolated Long Brook was, all alone in the center of a forest clearing in the middle of nowhere, and the way the extra wings came off the main building at an angle made it look like the horns of a bull.
For some reason, that made me think of being trapped in between them. It wasn’t a feeling that I liked, not one little bit.
Apart from the sounds of birds in the trees and the occasional rustle of the breeze moving through the branches, the clearing was as silent as the
Maybe twenty feet away from the highway, a metal gate barred our way. It was supported by a concrete pillar that looked pretty sturdy. Brandon put the Blazer into park and went out to take a look.
“We could park here and hop the fence,” I suggested, but Becky didn’t seem to like the idea.
“If the police drive by and see our car parked out here, they’re bound to come and check on us,” she pointed out.
Fortunately, it turned out to be a moot point. Brandon was able to swing the gate open and let us through. “It’s chained and supposed to be padlocked,” he said breathlessly when he returned to take the wheel again “but the padlock wasn’t locked.” Driving through to the other side, he hopped out again and closed the gate once more. Apart from our tire tracks in the mud, we hadn’t left any sign behind that might give away our presence.
The trees rose up high above us on both sides, casting the car interior into heavy shadow. It might have felt a little claustrophobic if it weren’t for the shafts of bright sunlight that came through the gaps in between branches. Craning my neck upwards, I could just about see a strip of clear blue sky directly overhead.
The driveway (actually more of a cross-country track) was long and winding. I was glad to see that Brandon was keeping the speed down, not gunning it like an idiot to try and impress Becky. Her face was practically glued to the windshield and side window, soaking in every detail. The sense of anticipation that she was giving off was almost palpable, excitement radiating from every pore.
Suddenly, the Blazer emerged into the sunlight again. We were free of the driveway, and a wide expanse of relatively clear ground opened up in front of us, mostly grass but with some concrete pathways and sidewalks interspersed around the sea of green and yellow. It was a huge clearing in the woodland, and there, standing tall and proud in the middle of it, was the ruin of Long Brook Sanatorium.
We had arrived.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“I can’t believe we’re actually here…finally here .”
Becky stood on the front lawn, gazing in rapt fascination at the ruins of the former sanatorium.
It certainly was an impressive place, I had to admit. The building was huge. When I had dreamed about it, seeing the place only from the inside, I hadn’t gotten a true sense of the sheer scale of the place. Six floors high, each one except for the ground floor being fronted with empty windows, all of which were dark and shadowy despite the best efforts of the sun up above us.
There was a central building right in the very middle which I had learned from my Google searches was the main administration hub, and then on each side of that, two patient housing wings had been built; at the end of those, two more wings had been added on, so there were a total of four wings built onto the main structure, two on either side. On the ghost-hunting TV show that I had watched with Becky, they had used a few helicopter shots, no doubt to amp up the dramatic elements of the place. You could certainly see how isolated Long Brook was, all alone in the center of a forest clearing in the middle of nowhere, and the way the extra wings came off the main building at an angle made it look like the horns of a bull.
For some reason, that made me think of being trapped in between them. It wasn’t a feeling that I liked, not one little bit.
Apart from the sounds of birds in the trees and the occasional rustle of the breeze moving through the branches, the clearing was as silent as the
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