Gina Goes Home
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Like most old places, there had always been some action at the hotel. Flickers of residual haunts, the occasional whisper from the dark and ubiquitous “lady in white”. Over the years the spirits came and went, some few occasionally tapped a guest or manifested in wispy inky clouds. For years, that is how it was. It was charmingly creepy, enough to bring in the amateur ghost hunters, skeptics and other interested parties.
The quaintness of the resident ghosts lasted until 2015. The first report, in the form of a middle-aged shrieking man in basketball shorts and little else came hauling his half naked self-down four flights of stairs. “There, help, please-” Mariah at the front desk had experienced a jumpy guest or two, she had a spare robe behind the desk for such occasions and offered to the gentleman while assuring him she’d check out his room.
Mariah knocked, “hello? Is anyone inside?” She opened the door expecting the usual, the clock radio turned almost off, a cell phone, perhaps randy whispers from another room. Inside, the air felt too still. There should have been a gentle breath of air from the vent, there was nothing. She let the door ease closed behind her and she stood still in the middle of the room listening. In her right ear she heard it clear as day, “where is Gina?”
The sexless whisper was clear as day and came from the still air. She felt no chill, no movement, no sense of another person in the room. Fear gripped her sacrum in cold, hard fingers. Her anus contracted, her whole body tingled, and turned to stone. It took all of her will to take a breath and turn her head to the right. She forced her eyes wide open and saw nothing. She scooted out of the room and stood in the hallway, “oh shit.”
After soothing the frightened guest, she sat behind the desk nibbling on her cuticles. During renovations earlier in the year, they’d been warned that it could happen. Old content spirits could get riled up by the changes, the owners had taken precautions. Mariah decided that it was nothing. Just a once in a while occurrence that would not happen again soon. She would freshen the ofrenda in the back office, say a few prayers and it would be fine.
Weeks passed, the comments from guests began to trickle in. Someone came to the desk on a sunny Sunday to inquire about someone named Gina, staff heard the whispers, saw glimpses of curious spectral faces who mouthed, where is Gina? The office manager, Eduardo phoned the owners. “Hello Gladys. This is Eduardo, I um, well we might have an issue here.” Gladys Bustamante had been the owner of the hotel for twenty years and knew everything about it.
“Yes Eduardo? Do I need to come in?” He paused, “no ma’am I don’t think so. Uh, it seems we are having some spiritual problems lately. May I ask, have you heard of someone named Gina in connection with the property?” Gladys was quiet for a long moment, “Gina, Gina no I don’t think so why?” “Well ma’am, there are unhappy spirits asking for Gina. We’ve done everything, the ofrenda is fresh, the sills and doorways have been protected. Evelyn even brought her Grandfather around to say a blessing.”
Gladys thought about it, “start keeping a record. If things escalate, I will come down and we’ll have a meeting. All right?” They chit chatted a bit, Eduardo felt a little guilty he had downplayed things a little bit. He didn’t want to startle the woman; she was in her 70s and not in the best of health. In her house, Gladys sat in front of her own little altar and lit the candle.
“Give them strength. Let us hear. Amen.”
Weeks passed; the spirits subsided a little. Everyone on staff agreed that they would do their best to quell the uprising of the dead. It was all right to have the quaint haunt, it brought in a little extra income in the off season but, no one wanted a full-blown hotel full of enraged spirits. At the weekly staff meeting, several of the housekeepers reported escalating phenomena.
“Well, I walked into four to change the spread to the requested down alternative. I wanted to check to be sure the bathroom was stocked and there was writing, on the mirror. It said Gina, over and over again. Gina, Gina Gina.” The small woman shuddered, and the dayshift receptionist put an arm around her, everyone looked not quite scared but, upset. “Who is Gina?”
The crew set to the work of finding out what the spirits wanted. They called in a ghost hunting team, a group of men with meters and bad haircuts. Their cameras picked up what they called shadow entities, really, they were the hobgoblins of the crew. The weakest among the dead, they were usually the ones who rattled windowpanes and tugged at sleeves.
“I’m calling you out.” One of the men stood in the third-floor hallway, yelling at a misty mass. The mass was not sentient, it hung there until it didn’t. He decided to provoke it, he ranted about the darkness present and that room 332 was a portal to Hell. He wept and looked wild eyed at his team, “hey man you okay?” His eyes bugged out of his head, he screeched and lunged at the camera guy.
The dead, the more sentient of them watched in confusion. They had spoken, not into his devices but into his ear. They tried to get his attention in the gentle way they were used to. And the big brave men, upon having their sleeves tugged a little or a cool whisper in their ears ran. As with any group of house mates, the spirits needed to get together and do something.
As they say, a broken clock is right twice a day and the leader of the ghost hunting group was right about one thing. There was something bad. Someone bad, the other dead called him Boss. While the crew gathered themselves, the dead congregated in the basement. While the camera in the corner rolled, the air roiled with orbs and zigzagging streaks of energy.
“Boss? Boss make them get Gina. Bring Gina home.” Some of the hobgoblins grouped together to whisper, “Gina. Where is Gina?” The chorus of Gina and where is Gina and bring her home wavered through the air. “Boss tell them. Tell them.” Something that resided in the crawl space let their high, thin wail out and spoke for them all, “we want Gina. Gina must come home.”
And so, it was decided. Boss would speak for them all. Boss was not a friendly spirit. Boss was the bad thing, the dark thing the crew wanted to see, and he would do what was needed. Boss generally kept to himself, the living didn’t bother him, the littler dead didn’t bother him. He’d been there on that land long before the hotel and would remain long after. He chose his haunts carefully.
After their break the crew came back, they had renewed themselves and their leader had armed himself with a larger cross necklace and holy water. “Come out demon!” Boss took this as his cue, he boiled out of the darkness, he showed himself huge and void. He pulled energy from their devices, their fear and the other dead. They were counting on him.
The air around the terrified men chilled, Boss made it cold enough to show their breath and he leaned over them. The one with the camera cringed like a mouse, the leader didn’t cringe, but his voice cracked. “Tell me your name.”
Boss gathered himself to respond, “bring Gina home. Give her back. Bring Gina home. Bring Gina home.” He repeated the phrase, his voiced scraped the tiny bones in the living ears, it wriggled into their heads and grew as he almost chanted, “bring Gina home. Bring Gina home. Gina. Gina. Gina. Gina.” Boss had not done a proper manifestation in many years. He was so old; he had long forgotten what the true sound of his voice could do to the living.
The problem with Boss and his voice was not that he could not make himself heard. Unlike the hobgoblins and mumbling shades of whomever, he could speak quite clearly. The problem was that he was not like the other dead. He had been once. When he was alive, Boss was a hateful thing. His hate fed him for many years until he became his hate, his human spirit was forgotten, and he became Boss.
Boss’ voice was like finely ground glass mixed with comfort food. Inside the chilled air, the first breath of his voice was warm, an olive branch from beyond. Once the unfortunate living he spoke to inhale his voice, it buried itself inside them. Glass in the soup, so comforting and delicious for a while. Until it worked deeper in.
“Gina. Gina. Bring Gina home.” Boss’ voice filled the empty places in the men, it settled and went about the business of making their spirits bleed. Boss felt he had done his job and he subsided, his withdrawal followed by the sound of the men weeping and screaming. He returned to the others, he felt their expectant hope that the living men understood so they could tell the staff and the staff would bring Gina.
The ghost hunters left. There were no guests and the dead quieted themselves. The hotel was for the first time in months silent at 3 AM. The dead were ready for peace, ready for Gina to come home.
The crew refused to return to the hotel and instead insisted on meeting with Eduardo and Gladys at her place. For her part, Gladys was unimpressed with their surely earnest but generally incorrect assumptions. “Well ma’am, we believe that your property is indeed very haunted.” It wasn’t. “And we recommend you bring in an exorcist…” she stopped listening.
They had a priest they recommended, they opined about the dangers to the living. Eduardo took notes, he knew Gladys was being rude but, he could do nothing about it. “It is important that you make it a priority to cleanse the whole property.” Gladys looked up, her gaze sharp and focused. “What did you say the demon said?”
The man looked at her, shifted under Gladys’ sharp look. “Young man. What did it say?” He cleared his throat, “uh, it said bring Gina home. They all said it, over and over again. We think they are referring to-” the man yammered on, his research had indicated this and that. Gladys got up while the young man was recommending a culturally appropriated mix of would absolutely make things worse, Eduardo winced.
“After you sage, you’ll want to bring in a minister or priest. Have him repeat the blessings.” Eduardo smiled and took dutiful notes, he knew full well that if they followed those instructions. He was a little upset with Gladys, the man from the ghost hunters seemed unfazed. “That’s okay man, sometimes older folks especially women get nervous about this kind of stuff. It’ll be okay.”
While Eduardo finished up with the guy, Gladys dug through a file cabinet in her office. “Gladys, I don’t think-” she shushed him with a gesture and after another few minutes she held up a Christmas card. “Angelina.” Eduardo blinked, “Angelina?” Gladys nodded and handed him the card. “They want Angelina. She used to work here. Go back to the hotel and tell the others I will take care of it.”
Eduardo was confused but knew better than to question her. He did as he was told, and Gladys took to the internet. She had taught herself how to use social media and found Angelina’s granddaughter. She spent some time and found a recent photo of the young woman smiling with Angelina at an event together. Gladys found an email address for Angelina and wrote her a note asking her to call. Once it was sent, she said a little prayer.
At the hotel, the dead waited. Boss subsided, the others wandered about quiet and patient. The staff relaxed; guests were happy again. Eduardo was still worried; he didn’t understand what was going on. He sat in his office and watched the flowers on his little altar wave. He liked to imagine that the dead appreciated his modest offerings. He lit the candles and fiddled with the ofrenda.
Among the dead as days passed by, the murmurings resumed. They left the living alone and went to Boss. “Gina?” They were tired, listless and their muttering murmuration annoyed Boss to no end, he woke himself to try and soothe them as best he understood how. “Rest. I will speak.” Half of the other dead returned to their mistiness and corners. The others, trailed Boss, eager to watch him at work.
While the dead waited, Gladys waited for the call. When it came and she heard Angelina’s voice, she remembered everything. “Gladys, I was so happy to hear from you. I’ve been thinking about you. Were your ears burning?” They both laughed, Gladys closed her eyes and could see Angelina’s big gap-toothed smile. They talked for a while about their lives, children, and grandchildren.
They talked long into the evening, “Angelina, do you know why I had to find you?” Angelina heaved a deep sigh, “of course I do. They know. You know. I will be there in two weeks. I’ll bring the girls.” Gladys felt relieved and sad. “Your room will be waiting.”
For the dead, two weeks could have been two hundred years. All they knew was their need, their want. Boss made himself known; he shook the walls with his fury. “Where. Is. Gina.” Guests fled; the other dead trailed behind Boss shrieking their collective want. “Bring Gina home.” A young woman from accounting tried to brave it.
“I don’t believe in that stuff.” The poor woman clutched her purse while a tumble of dark mists, shadows and strange flickering lights whirled in front of her. Voices came from the mass, whispers, distant shrieking all calling for Gina. She stood, frozen and shuddering. Boss rose up from the wriggling mass, he showed himself in his favorite form. He filled the end of the room with blackness and used his ground glass voice to speak slowly and clearly to the cowering woman, “bring Gina home.”
The woman started wanted to scream, she felt the scream begin in her belly but all that made it to her throat was a high pitched, thin wail. Her eyes rolled and her body crumpled to the floor. The dead recoiled and oozed from the room; Boss remained. Had he a face, he would have been smiling his barely remembered hateful grin.
Eduardo found the woman and rushed her home. He was terrified but, he was the manager and he would protect his staff, the hotel and try to pacify the raging dead. On his way back to the hotel, he left Gladys a message that things were getting dire and if she had a plan, it was time. When he got back to the hotel, it was too dark, and he stood trembling staring up at it.
As he watched, a curtain in the lobby twitched, the darkness pulled at him and his body responded. He walked towards the darkness and he wept, it wasn’t what he wanted, and he felt the other thing. It was the thing he was most afraid of, the thing in the basement. It was coming for him, calling him, taking him. Eduardo went insensate with fear, he wanted to fight it but had no control over his body.
“Pater noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum. Adveniat regnum tuum. Fiat voluntas tua, sicut in caelo et in terra. Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie, et dimitte nobis debita nostra sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris. Et ne nos inducas in tentationem, sed libera nos a malo. Amen.” The Lord’s prayer, a staple dredged up from genetic memory tumbled from his lips. The front doors opened slowly, as he went into the dark the chorus of the dead, all of them begain their shrieking, wailing, whispering and demanding. “Pater noster-” “Where is Gina?” “Qui es in caelis” “Gina.” “Sanctificetur-”
Gladys tried to call Eduardo back; his phone went to his voicemail. She called the front desk, when the line picked up, she was greeted with screaming static and computer noise. “Oh no.” She fumbled her phone and felt her heart stutter in her chest. What if it was too late?
Angelina was so tired. As her granddaughter drove, she rested her head and closed her eyes. “Nono are you okay?” She smiled. “Okay as can be. We’re close.” Angelina’s granddaughter had been preparing for that night for two years. Like her Mom and her Grandma, she had a touch of the gifts, not as strongly as her Nono but, she knew. She played all the old-school for Nono on the way, smiling when she heard Nono humming along, it was going to be okay.
Gladys got it together enough to call Angelina. “Hi sweetie. Don’t worry we’re almost there. Stay home. We have it handled. Light a candle. Goodnight dear.” Gladys had no change to say anything else, she sat in her chair and poured herself a hefty glass of whisky, lit a cigar and put on her late husband’s favorite hat as was her habit when doing for the dead.
When they pulled up to the hotel Angelina leaned over to kiss her granddaughter. “Goodnight my love.” The girl cried and smiled, “goodnight Nono. Tell Mama I love her.”
Inside the hotel, the whirling dervish of chaos rose to a fever pitch and as the old woman moved slowly into the building even the thing in the basement paused in its torment of Eduardo. Boss rose up in front of her and as he recognized her, subsided. The other dead rattled themselves into quiet and calm.
“Gina. Gina’s home. Gina’s home.”
The dead, the hobgoblins, the thing in the basement, Boss and the other things, the older things born of blood and strife in the land all rose together. The thing in the basement released Eduardo and he wandered dazed and still muttering, “Pater noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum. Adveniat regnum tuum. Fiat voluntas tua, sicut in caelo et in terra. Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie, et dimitte nobis debita nostra sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris. Et ne nos inducas in tentationem, sed libera nos a malo. Amen. Pater noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum. Adveniat regnum tuum. Fiat voluntas tua, sicut in caelo et in terra. Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie, et dimitte nobis debita nostra sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris. Et ne nos inducas in tentationem, sed libera nos a malo. Amen.” He found himself out back, climbing out of the unused cellar doors and he laid down in the soft grass and slept the sleep of the terrorized child he felt like.
Angelina like her fore-mothers had three rules. She never depended on men, she respected her dead and she kept her promises. When she was a young scared girl running from a man with a temper and murder on his mind, she promised the dead she would come back to them. They had protected her and welcomed her because she had seen them. As she stepped across the threshold, even the blood-soaked land felt a kind of peace.
No one saw what happened. Angelina’s body was found sitting in her favorite chair in the lobby. Her gnarled hands folded in her lap around a small bouquet of flowers. Some said the dead killed her. Others that she had created the haunt somehow or that the owner Gladys had sacrificed her. The dead didn’t care.
Gina came home. Gina came home.
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