Restless Souls by Alice Baburek

No one really knows why restoration stopped on the abandoned St. Julian hotel, where commoners and kings once came to relax in luxury.But Bernie Yocum and her brother George Winton had their suspicions. The renovation/construction company they shared had been in their family for decades.

Bernie studied the blueprints. The renovation was on schedule until there was a sudden upset among the workers. She nibbled on her thumbnail. Rumors of ghosts and goblins sifted through the workers, ending in a halt at the St. Julian hotel.

The afterlife was a sore subject with Bernie. She honestly believed and experienced firsthand that sometimes energy remained after a person’s death. Especially since she was born with the “sixth sense.”

A light tap on the trailer door startled Bernie back to reality. The construction site has been deserted since the halting of the renovations. She remained behind since she was the company’s lead foreman and part owner.

“It’s open,” she called. The metal door squeaked ajar. A burst of cool air slipped inside. Bernie shivered.

“Hey, boss, heading out for the day. Hopefully, this nonsense will get settled so we can return to work.” George, Bernie’s trusted younger brother and best friend, gave a two-finger salute.

“Thanks for sticking around, George. We can only hope this mess is sorted out—soon.” Bernie leaned back in the chair.

“How can an old building like the St. Julian not have a few ghosts?” Her tall, lanky brother leaned against the doorframe. His jeans and flannel shirt were covered in white dust. The dirty, hard hat sat crooked on his dark, bushy head.

Bernie gave a slight nod. Even though she was only two years his senior, she felt much older. She had shared her secret with her brother long ago. They were thick as thieves growing up, and as adults, it didn’t change.

“Keep me posted on the union’s decision, sis. We might have to hire private contractors to finish the job. I know it will cost more, but at least the restoration will be completed—on time, I might add.” George gave her the thumbs up.

Bernie forced a half grin. George was always optimistic no matter how bad things seemed. It was one of the many reasons she was glad they worked together.

“Go on, take off, George. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Get some sleep.” She rolled the blueprints and set them aside on her desk.

“You got it, boss.” With that said, George closed the door, leaving his sister alone with her thoughts.

***

The back area of the trailer was fitted as a small suite. It had a single bed, couch, round table with two chairs, end table, kitchenette, half stove, sink, and a bathroom with a shower. She had often spent the night inside the trailer, eager to start the project early. And since the untimely death of her husband, she preferred to keep busy by working. And this time, it was no different.

Bernie felt drained. She had inspected the third floor of the St. Julian hotel. There was a coldness about it she couldn’t describe. Her unease was noted. Throughout the entire hotel, it was only the third floor that gave her pause. What could have happened on floor three to leave behind such negative amounts of energy? She understood the reluctance of the workers. Maybe, in their own way, they could sense it too.

After eating a microwave dinner, Bernie opened her laptop. She skimmed her emails, hoping for a response from the union. The men and women had vocalized their apprehension in working at the site. Hopefully, things can be worked out. If not, George was right. Outside contractors would have to be hired to finish the renovation. The substantial cost would be much higher than initially agreed upon. That meant her company would foot the extra cost.

The email from the union was vague. It told of the workers feeling uncomfortable working at the St. Julian hotel. Strange things were happening and needed further investigation before and if it was deemed safe enough to return.

Bernie closed the lid. Her eyes drooped. Minutes later, she laid on the quilt and fell asleep. Her dreams were vivid. Images of people wandering in corridors. Distorted faces, weeping and moaning, clothes ragged and singed.

As she twirled about in place, Bernie tried to wake herself up from the nightmare of tortured souls. Wake up!

And as quick as the images appeared, they disappeared. Bernie sat up. Her breathing labored as if she just run a marathon. Sweat lined her brows. Her mind adjusted to the surroundings. She was inside the office trailer. Just then, her cell phone alarm chimed.

The early morning sun peeked through the closed blinds. She had been asleep the entire night. How was that possible? She had laid down on the bed a short time ago.

Bernie’s phone buzzed. It was George. “Morning, George.” She stifled a yawn.

“Morning, boss. Hear anything?” he asked in a chippy voice.

“No decision.” Bernie swung her legs off the bed. “I want…I want to go up to the third floor. Interested?” She rubbed her face.

“Anything for you, sis. It’s been a while for you…hasn’t it?” Bernie stared at the floor. She knew exactly what he was referring to—the special attention to her sixth sense.

“You could say that…but I need to find out what is going on up there. I could use the company, George. You have a knack for keeping me grounded.”

George smiled. He would do anything for his sister. Their bond was unbreakable. And he knew if Bernie slipped past the point of no return—he might just lose her forever.

***

Brother and sister stood side by side, staring down the third floor corridor inside the St. Julian hotel. Renovation equipment was scattered everywhere, waiting to be used to uplift and give life once again to an old historic inn.

Bernie could feel the cold draft seep through her thin jacket. She shivered. George, on the other hand, did not seem bothered by it.

“Are your senses tingling?” George forced a half smile. Bernie glanced at her brother. He bit at his lower lip. He could feel the uneasiness in the air.

“Yes.” Bernie rubbed her frigid arms. She could see their breath. It was getting colder by the minute. “Let’s get this over with.”

Bernie closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “What do you want from us?”

George stood close to his sister. Even though he didn’t have the sixth sense, he did feel the presence of some energy in the air.

Bernie slowly opened her eyes. A foggy mist filled the long hotel hallway. Misshapen images fading in and out moved about as if they were floating on air. There were so many. But she had learned long ago that it was easier to communicate when focused on just one.

She focused on an elderly woman dressed from the 1830s. The woman’s head hung down on her sunken chest as she weaved back and forth, going nowhere.

“What do you want?” repeated Bernie. Her voice was directed at the old lady. Suddenly, the apparition stopped. Slowly, she turned about.

Bernie’s heart skipped a beat. The face was hollow. Deep black sockets where eyes used to be. Strings of white hair clumped on could only have been burnt flesh. A transparent, singed dark dress ruffled in the frigid breeze. It was apparent this poor soul had died in a fire.

George held his sister’s cold hand. She was squeezing tighter and tighter. “There was a fire,” murmured Bernie. His basic historical research never gave a hint of any type of fire within its walls.

“What do you want of us?” asked Bernie in a loud voice. George scanned the corridor. The smell of plaster and dampness filled his nose. And then it hit him. The smell of smoke. He turned around to the glowing behind them.

“It can’t be…” His words trailed off. Bernie stood glued before the rippling manifestation. The spirit’s outstretched bony arm pointed in her direction.

“Burn!” came a raspy sound.

Instantly, the cold sensation surrounding Bernie became stifling hot. It was as if her skin was on fire.

The hallway was engulfed in flames. They needed to get out before it was too late. George yanked at his sister’s now limp hand. Her eyes fixated on something directly in front of her.

“Bernie! Bernie! We need to get out of here…it’s on fire!” he shouted. Bernie did not move. She seemed to be locked in place.

The blazing hallway intensified. George’s throat felt raw. He shook his sister. “Bernie, come on, snap out of it! We need to get out of here before the whole place goes up in flames.”

And without waiting for his sister to comply, George dragged his stoic sister to the stairway. Inside the stairwell, Bernie’s mind snapped back to reality. She gasped for air. George held Bernie and helped her down the steps.

“What…what happened?” she asked in between breaths. George knew they had little time left.

“Come on…we have to get out—now!” George’s eyes open wide. He had to protect his sister.

Bernie knew her brother was distressed. She gave a slight nod and hurriedly descended with George. As they reached the exit door on the main floor, George leaned hard on the metal handle. It did not budge.

“Damn! These doors shouldn’t be locked.” He pushed with all his weight. After the third try, he realized it was useless. Smoke began to filter inside the stairwell. If they didn’t get out soon, they would both die.

Bernie’s eyes stung. Her throat felt raw. She grabbed her brother’s arm. “Go on, get out, George. Find a way. Save yourself.” His sister slumped to the concrete floor.

“Get up, Bernie! I’m not leaving you behind. I’ll carry you…if I have to. There’s another exit right before the main lobby area. Come on!” George bent down and grabbed his sister to pull her up.

Bernie could barely stand. It felt as if her legs were made of lead. She could feel the strength in her brother’s arms as he picked her up. All she wanted to do was close her grainy eyes and sleep.

***

The constant beeping from the hospital monitor echoed inside her foggy mind. Voices drifting in and out made her stir.

“Bernie…Bernie…can you hear me? It’s George…your handsome brother,” said the voice.

Without opening her eyes, Bernie smiled. “I…I don’t have a handsome brother. I just have a brother.” A chuckle emanated above her.

“Doc, I think my sister will be just fine.” Doctor McGuire checked Bernie’s vitals and marked them on her chart.

By now, Bernie had opened her dry eyes and smiled at both men. Her throat was still raw, and her head was foggy. But she was grateful to be alive.

“Bernie, I’m Doctor McGuire. Smoke inhalation is serious. I liked to keep you overnight for observation.” The short, stocky man’s white lab coat hung to his knees. He clasped his hands in front of himself. Thin strands of gray hair barely covered his round head. Dark black glasses perched on his pointy nose.

“My sister’s not going anywhere, doc. I’ll make sure of it.” George pulled over the large cushioned chair next to the hospital bed. “I plan on spending the night, too.”

“On one condition…your sister gets plenty of rest,” said the doctor. “I will see you in the morning, Bernie. If you need anything at all, just press the button on the side rail. A nurse will be checking on you throughout the night.” He flashed a quick smile and left the siblings alone.

“You saved my life, George. Thank you. But we could have both died.” Bernie’s eyes filled with tears.

“Nah…I had it under control, sis. But the doc’s right…you need to get some sleep.” George stifled a large yawn. “And so do I.”

***

It was a dismal, gray day as the siblings stared at the ruins. The St. Julian hotel was beyond restoration. It had burned to the ground. The historic society, which had purchased the hotel back in 2021, had special insurance due to its historic preservation. Now, no amount of money could restore the piles of ash and rubble.

“I already talked with the fire marshal. The damage is so extensive that it’s hard to tell how it started. It could have been anything since the hotel was so old. We lost a lot of equipment. Luckily, our insurance carrier will cover it. Can’t say the same about the hotel.” George placed his hands on his hips. The stench of burnt debris still lingered in the air. It had been almost a week since the terrible fire and their escape from near death.

Bernie could not shake the feeling that something horrible had happened during the history of the St. Julian hotel. And that the fire started now was no accident. And so, she decided to search for answers. Maybe she found what she was looking for.

“While you were talking with the fire department, I was digging in the historical society’s archives. It took me awhile, but I stumbled on an old newspaper clipping from May 1835. It would seem there was a fire at the St. Julian hotel—specifically on the third floor,” explained Bernie. She crossed her arms.

“Go on…don’t leave me in suspense,” pushed George.

“Well, according to the article, tragically, the guests staying on the third floor perished in the blaze, including women and children. Back then, there were no fire escapes or warning systems. By the time the volunteer fire department arrived, it was too late. The fire department put out the fire before it spread to the floors below, and the guests on the first two floors could escape in time. But it was too late for those on the third floor. Now we know why the hotel’s third floor housed so much negative energy. I just hope that the hotel is gone and the wandering souls can rest peacefully.” Bernie cleared her sore throat.

“What do you think the historical society will do with the land?” asked George.

“I sent Mac Weber, society’s president, my recommendations,” replied Bernie.

“And…they are?”

“Turn this whole area into a green space and erect a marble monument dedicated to all those who perished in the horrendous blaze of 1835. I also told him we would donate our time and equipment to ensure this project would come to fruition,” explained Bernie.

George turned his attention back to the smoldering piles. “You know, the company lost quite a bit of capital invested in this project, sis.”

Bernie remained silent for a brief moment. “Nothing compared to what those poor people lost that tragic night in 1835. It’s the least that can be done for them—to be remembered.” Bernie’s eyes filled with tears.

“I couldn’t agree more.” And as the siblings peered out over the permanent graves of the lives lost that fateful night, the sky above suddenly cleared, giving way to a peace and tranquility long so forgotten.

Alice Baburek

Image: Fire department tackling an urban blaze from Pixabay.com