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I spent many days and nights interviewing Carlos Gutierrez concerning the hauntings at the resort. This is his recollection of the first time he met the Cassidys.242Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXMPFIa5lRx
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A blistering afternoon sun baked the blacktop on the roof of Buck Cassidy's new nightclub/resort as he and Wilma feverishly worked cleaning up the inside of the musty old building. Buck sang "Tiffany's Temptation" silently, remembering the first day he had seen the illegal printing press and how, only a few weeks later, he had sold the high school's old stadium to a land developer for a tax write-off. He decided to call his place the Lone Star Honky-Tonk. As he stood near the stage in his Levis and white sports shirt, smiling robustly, he looked like a man who'd found his Holy Grail.
Wilma, clad in pink maternity shorts and a matching top, was busy wiping dust and cobwebs from the tables in the main ballroom when, looking up, she was startled by the dark figure of a man framed by the shadows of the light of the open doorway. "Buck, we got company!" she called out to her husband who had seen the man at approximately the same time she did.
"What can I do for you, son?" Buck asked as he moved toward the man. "I'm the new owner here."
"Yeah, I heard. My name's Carlos....Carlos Gutierrez, that is." The five-foot, six-inch stranger stepped out of the shadows and into the light. He wore faded Levis, a black T-shirt, and dirty, white sneakers. He appeared to be about twenty-one years of age. His dark hair was combed back on his head, and he had a scraggly beard and coffee-brown eyes.
Extending his right hand toward Buck's he continued. "I used to be a student here. They said in the Chronicle the place had been bought and so I thought I'd drop in and see what's going on." A broad grin crossed his bespectacled face as he and Buck shook hands.
Buck introduced himself and Wilma to Carlos, then listened politely as the young man went on talking.
"You wanna know anything about this place, you come to me," Carlos said, his voice tinged with a grim edge. "I know every nook and cranny, from the fuse boxes to the light switches. Been here since I was a freshman. Seen it all, man! I've seen kids get stabbed, beaten to a pulp, you name it. This school's got a history that'll make your blood run cold. You don't know what you bought, Cassidy. This ain't just some rundown building. It's a mean son of a gun with a bloody history that'll haunt you."
When Carlos mentioned seeing violent acts in the high school, Wilma felt as if she would jump out of her skin, but she kept her mouth shut. Maybe that was why she had an eerie feeling about the building.
"Now, if you need an extra hand," Carlos said, interrupting her thoughts, "I'm your guy. I need the work. I can start anytime. Looks like you could use some help getting this joint cleaned up.
Nothing else needed to be said. The Cassidys needed all the help they could get cleaning the giant complex. There was more than enough work for ten men in the place. After a lengthy talk, Buck told Carlos to grab a broom and get to work. He advised him that there was a lot of painting that desperately needed to be done and there was a mountain of garbage and debris that needed hauling off the campus.
"You're on my payroll as of right now!" Buck exclaimed with a smile. "I'm going to leave you here with Wilma. I've got some stuff upstairs that I need to take care of, so I'll see y'all later. Wilma will assign you your chores."
For some unexplainable reason, Buck took an instant liking to Carlos and felt the man was trustworthy. He handed him the dust cloth that he'd been using to wipe down some tables then disappeared.
Carlos turned to Wilma with a wary, almost haunting expression on his face. "You don't have to worry about the ghosts in here," he softly exclaimed. "They're what you'd call my.....allies."
A cold shiver passed through the woman's entirety as Carlos's words faded into oblivion. She paused for a moment, as if hesitant about giving a reply. She flashed back to that first day looking at the classrooms where time seemed to stand still, and as she stood there staring at the young man, that same haunting fear returned, gnawing at her heart.
Before she could reply, a loud thud echoed from a distant classroom, stretching out through the rest of the first floor like a fading shot bounding off a canyon wall.
"What was that?" she almost screamed as she reached out and grabbed Carlos's arm, digging her fingernails into the meaty part of his flesh.
"You got me," he whispered as he gazed down at her hand tenaciously gripping his arm. "Come on. Let's go check it out."
Releasing her grip on him, she cautiously followed him into one of the classrooms, Room 203, where Carlos spied a fallen portrait of a middle-aged teacher lying discarded on the dusty floor. The canvas, once vibrant with color, now faded and worn with age, depicted a rather stern-looking individual with a round, fat face and piercing eyes that seemed to follow your every move. The frame, cracked and splintered, cast jagged shadows across the portrait's weathered surface, adding to its eerie appearance.
"That's what it was," he said as he walked over and picked it up by the frame. "Everything's okay! He never hurt nobody in his life."
Grinning sheepishly, embarrassed by her own seemingly silly fears, Wilma watched quietly as Carlos rehung the picture over the discolored spot on the paneling where it had hung for many years.
"This is Mr. Abramovich, the history teacher. I loved him like a father," he said to Wilma, then looked up toward the ceiling and quietly, hauntingly begged, "They come in peace, y'all. Leave 'em be! Nobody's interfered with you, so don't interfere with them!"
Puzzled, and now even more scared, Wilma looked at Carlos, then up at the ceiling, but didn't say anything. Just another thing for me to worry about, she thought. He's talking to ghosts in here! Damn!
Carlos turned his attention back to Wilma, a smile forming on his face. "Let's go back to the gym and finish up," he said. "Rest assured, they'll heed my words... for now,"
The rest of the afternoon went by smoothly just as Carlos had promised, and, although Wilma was still slightly fearful, the young employee seemed to relieve some of her anxiety.
The setting sun cast long shadows across the room as Buck and Wilma started out the door to go home. "Hold on just a minute!" Wilma told Buck as she pulled Carlos to one side.
"Carlos, we need to have a serious talk," Wilma said firmly. "I need to know what's going on here. My God! You were talking to people that I couldn't see and that demands an explanation. No damn secrets, you hear? I expect you to tell me everything you know about Lone Star High School tomorrow. And let me remind you, I'm a pregnant lady, so don't count on me being patient."242Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡX4CvkNbEDg
Turning toward her husband, Wilma informed Buck she was ready to leave. As they passed through the double metal doors leading out of the gym, Carlos followed closely behind them down the long hallway that led outside to the front entrance. Once on the sidewalk, Buck tossed Carlos a set of keys. "Here's an extra set! Lock the place up good 'n tight, y'hear? We'll see you in the morning."242Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1424U9aJj2
As Buck and Wilma climbed into the car and drove away, Carlos peered back inside the front glass-paned doors, his eyes searching the shadows of the old hallway. "Good night, everybody!" he whispered out loud to nobody in particular. Then, without another word, he slipped the key into the lock and twisted it, the click of the dead glass then turned and headed for his house in the nearby community of Pepper. Another day had come to an end.
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Carlos was quiet, gentle, and soft-spoken, but surrounded by an air of cool mystique. His only vices, as far as anyone could tell, were cigarettes and a few cans of Tecate.242Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqYnjOIPV2L
Having just taken a couple of sips of Tecate, Carlos climbed into the comfort of his bed around 11:00 that night and fell into a deep, restless sleep. Not long after midnight, he jolted upright in the king-sized bed, jerking back his white comforter, as his eyes popped open like a window shade that had suddenly let go. His body jerked as sweat poured from his brow, his heart pounding as if it would explode, and he nearly screamed out loud, but remembering his mother and father in the other room, he stopped himself.
Carlos was raised a devout Catholic and never paid too much attention to nightmares. He was sure God would protect him from real harm, but the drama that had just besieged him was the most real....the most terrifying nightmare he had ever experienced. Assuring himself that he was awake now, he lay back down and pulled his body into a fetal position, lying on his left side, staring out the bedroom window at the hazy fog that had surrounded the white frame home. The rose, flowered wallpaper in his room appeared to dance amongst the shadows on the walls as the fog continued moving in.
The fog always came at night, rising from Buffalo Bayou and engulfing the house like some dark, wet, evil cloud, swallowing its victims, spitting them out in the morning, only to return to devour them inside its eerie mist once more.
It was half past one before Carlos closed his eyes and tried to forget about that damn dream, but when he did, the image of the nightmare came rushing back into his mind. He found himself trapped in the gymnasium of Lone Star High School, sprawled on the floor. A slimy, tentacled creature loomed over him, its grotesque form writhing and undulating as it prepared to consume him in the depths of its terrifying embrace.
"Just a bad dream! Ain't no slimy thing gonna eat me," he whispered as the fog descended upon the house like a giant weight and he finally fell back asleep.242Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3VXoLxk4Rh
