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Buck Cassidy had hired Mateus Kalucaxito to do some general maintenance and repair work at the resort. Carlos was to help Mateus in this endeavor.
Mateus, aged 28, was born and raised in the village of Caxito, Angola, a picturesque but troubled land plagued by political instability and ongoing civil unrest. Despite the natural beauty of his surroundings, Mateus found himself grappling with the harsh realities of everyday life in a country torn apart by conflict and economic hardship. From a young age, he witnessed the struggles of his family and neighbors as they tried to eke out a living in the face of adversity. As he grew older, Mateus's aspirations for a better future clashed with the stark limitations imposed by his homeland's tumultuous political landscape. Frustrated by the lack of opportunities and prospects for advancement, Mateus felt increasingly compelled to seek a new path beyond the borders of Angola. With each passing year, the desire to escape the cycle of poverty and uncertainty only grew stronger, fueling his determination to embark on a journey in search of greener pastures. In his late twenties, Mateus made the bold decision to leave behind everything he had ever known and set out for the United States, a land of promise and opportunity. With little more than hope in his heart and a steadfast resolve to carve out a better life for himself, Mateus embarked on the arduous journey across continents and oceans. After enduring numerous challenges and hardships along the way, he finally arrived on American soil, where he would begin the long and challenging process of building a new life and securing a brighter future for himself and his family.
Mateus attended a local school in Caxito, where he received a basic education that instilled in him a thirst for knowledge and a deep appreciation for learning. Despite the limitations of his schooling, Mateus displayed an insatiable curiosity and a remarkable aptitude for academics, often spending hours poring over books and seeking out opportunities to expand his understanding of the world around him. It was during these formative years that Mateus first discovered his passion for craftsmanship and working with his hands, finding solace and fulfillment in the act of creation. As he grew older, Mateus's determination to pursue his dreams led him to seek out avenues for further education and skill development. Recognizing the importance of mastering the English language to thrive in an increasingly interconnected world, Mateus dedicated himself to learning English with unwavering determination and diligence. Through a combination of self-study, formal instruction, and immersive language experiences, he gradually gained fluency in English, opening up new doors of opportunity and possibility. In addition to honing his language skills, Mateus sought out opportunities to learn practical trades such as woodworking and metalworking, recognizing the value of acquiring tangible skills that could serve him well in his quest for a better life. With a natural talent for craftsmanship and an innate ability to visualize and create intricate designs, Mateus quickly excelled in these trades, demonstrating a keen eye for detail and a meticulous approach to his work.
After settling down in Houston, Texas, Mateus met Maria, a woman who shared his dreams of a better life and supported him wholeheartedly. Maria, originally from Mexico, brought her cultural influences into their relationship, enriching Mateus's perspective on life. Despite being raised Catholic, Mateus found himself grappling with the ancient superstitions of his Angolan heritage, especially those concerning ghosts and spirits. These conflicting beliefs often caused inner turmoil and made it challenging for Mateus to reconcile his upbringing with his modern, rational worldview. Mateus's path crossed with Buck Cassidy's through their mutual involvement in the Houston community. Buck, impressed by Mateus's impeccable craftsmanship and strong work ethic, took a personal interest in him. He saw potential in Mateus and offered him a position at the Cassidy resort, recognizing his talents in woodworking and metalworking as valuable assets to the team. Mateus's dedication to his craft and his eagerness to learn quickly earned him respect among his peers and solidified his place within the Cassidy team.
Today, Mateus remains an integral part of the Lone Star Honky-Tonk, contributing his skills and expertise to various projects. Despite the initial challenges he faced adjusting to life in Texas and navigating the cultural differences, Mateus has found a sense of fulfillment and purpose in his work alongside Buck and the rest of the team. His journey from Angola to Houston has been marked by resilience, determination, and a relentless pursuit of a better life for himself and his family.
What you are about to read is the result of several interviews with Mateus and Carlos. This is what they say happened next.232Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoDuL0hWD4k
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Carlos awoke from a fitful sleep as the pounding on the front door of the resort echoed up the stairway and hammered away at his ears. Slowly rising from his bed in a clumsy, half-asleep daze, he stood to his feet and pulled back the heavy blue drape that covered the window of the upstairs apartment, the morning sunlight momentarily blinding him. Shielding his eyes with his empty hand, he immediately recognized the heavy-set black man clad in blue jeans and a white shirt standing below. "Just a sec, man!" he called out through the glass, his words laced with the slang of the early '70s. He had forgotten Mateus was coming today to take down the old, unused light fixtures in the bull room.
As Carlos released the curtain and stepped away from the window, he reached for his work clothes hanging nearby. However, there was a peculiar twist to them. Despite being functional work attire, they still bore the unmistakable psychedelic vibe of the '60s. The fabric seemed to swirl with vibrant colors and intricate patterns, a stark contrast to Carlos's usual style. Nonetheless, he shrugged off the oddity and quickly changed into the clothing, readying himself for the day's tasks ahead.
As he fumbled with the shorts, Carlos struggled to put his feet through the legs, his movements sluggish from the lingering haze of sleep. The snap of the elastic waistband smacking against his flesh made him wince, a sharp reminder of the morning's sudden intrusion. Collapsing back into the rocker, he reached out for the black and white sneakers resting on the floor before him. Briefly contemplating his bare feet, he lazily slid them into the tattered canvas shoes, forgoing the effort to tie them.
Straining his sleep-weary muscles, Carlos pushed himself up from the rocker and stumbled through the door to the landing at the top of the stairs. With a muttered curse, he flipped on the light and cautiously descended the steps, his senses still muddled from his abrupt awakening.
As Mateus swung open the wooden door, he greeted Carlos with a warm smile. "Good morning!" he exclaimed, his voice tinged with the classic broken English of an African immigrant. "Wha's happenin', buddy?"
"Not a whole lot," Carlos remarked as he squinted at the black-skinned, brown-eyed man before him. "Step on in. Gotta run back upstairs for a sec. You know where all the lights are, right?"
"Yeah. Me see you later." Mateus slid past Carlos and headed into the bowls of the building to turn on the lights.
As Carlos trekked upstairs, Mateus groped around in the darkness until he found the door to the power room. Feeling along the wall, he located the switch then flooded the room with bright, almost blinding illumination. After waiting a few seconds for his eyes to readjust themselves, he walked over to the electrical panel and flipped on the circuit breaker for the bull room light. As the light flooded the room, Mateus stumbled upon another hidden passage as he pried open the hatchway, muttering to himself in broken English, "Dis look familiar, like old place back home."
As Mateus ventured deeper into the tunnel, his curiosity drove him forward despite the dim light and the musty smell that surrounded him. The passage seemed to wind endlessly, twisting and turning until he stumbled upon a strange chamber. Dominating the space was a large printing press, its metal components gleaming faintly in the low light. Mateus approached it cautiously, his eyes widening in awe at the sheer beauty and craftsmanship of the machine. The press stood as a testament to a bygone era, its intricate gears and mechanisms a marvel of engineering. Surrounding the press were shelves filled with papers and inks, yet they provided no hint as to the purpose of this mysterious chamber.
As Mateus continued to explore the chamber, his eyes fell upon the shelves lined with green inks, their bottles varying in size and shape, hinting at a meticulous organization despite the layer of dust that coated them. The eerie green glow cast by the dim light lent an otherworldly aura to the scene, adding to the sense of mystery that pervaded the chamber. His gaze then shifted to the strange setup that powered the printing press. Wires snaked across the floor, connecting the press to an old electrical panel that looked like it hadn't been used in decades. It became apparent to Mateus that the operators of this clandestine operation had illegally tapped into the old school's wiring, but for what purpose remained unclear.
Nearby, he spotted an old, rusted Winchester lying on the floor, its metal tarnished with age and neglect. The presence of the weapon raised more questions than answers. Was someone guarding the printing press, and if so, why? Mateus couldn't shake the feeling of unease that washed over him as he pondered the implications of his discovery.
As Mateus sifted through the clutter in the chamber, his eyes fell upon a weathered logbook tucked away on one of the shelves. Dust danced in the air as he gingerly retrieved the book, its leather cover worn and faded from years of neglect. Opening it, he discovered meticulous entries detailing the operations of the counterfeiting ring. The name "E.A." was scrawled across the top of each page, hinting at the identity of the person behind the illicit activities. The logbook revealed a sinister scheme: a detailed account of counterfeit money production, including dates, bill denominations, and scheduled circulation. Mateus's heart raced as he realized the magnitude of what he had stumbled upon. The tables on several pages meticulously tallied the quantities of fake bills produced, along with the agreed-upon payments from an unnamed crime syndicate. With each turn of the page, Mateus delved deeper into the clandestine world of the counterfeiting ring that once operated within these walls. The implications of his discovery weighed heavily on him as he grappled with the realization that the building he now stood in held secrets far more sinister than he could have ever imagined.
As Mateus carefully navigated his way out of the hidden tunnel, his mind raced with the implications of his discovery. The presence of the printing press in the chamber hinted at a meticulously planned operation, one that could not have been executed without considerable effort and foresight. As he retraced his steps back towards the ladder leading to the surface, a realization dawned on him: the printing press could not have been discreetly transported onto the school campus without drawing attention. Instead, it must have been carefully lowered into a specially dug pit, concealed from prying eyes by the cover of darkness.
The process of creating the pit would have been no small feat, requiring meticulous planning and execution. Mateus imagined a team of skilled individuals working under the cover of night, digging deep into the earth to create a concealed chamber capable of housing the printing press. The pit would have been carefully designed to accommodate the size and weight of the machinery, ensuring that it remained hidden from view while still allowing for easy access and operation.
Mateus climbed the ladder, emerging once more into the dimly lit bull room above. The secrets of this building would have to remain secrets---for now.
Mateus heard Carlos walking down the stairs and quickly grabbed the aluminum ladder just as Carlos entered the bull room.
"Well, you ready for get your pay?" Mateus playfully asked as the two men set up the ladder and gazed at the two rows of antiquated fluorescent fixtures overhead.
"As ready as I'll ever be," Carlos contemplated the job ahead of them.
Time passed quickly as the two men worked at the simple, but tedious task. Carlos spent most of the time in the attic holding the bolts so they wouldn't turn, while Mateus, below him in the bull room, loosened the nuts that anchored the fixtures. The heavy-set Mateus looked at his watch and was shocked to see that it was already past 2:00 in the afternoon.
"Hey, Carlos! You wanna go down and eat some lunch?" Mateus yelled up through the ceiling.
"Groovy, man!" Carlos's exasperated voice answered as it filtered down through the ceiling tiles above.
Mateus heard the sound of scuffling feet, and, within seconds Carlos's dirty, sweaty-soaked body brushed past him as the be-ragged man rushed to the back door and began inhaling huge gulps of fresh, clean air.
"Gosh, my friend! You appear like road with many bumps!"Mateus remarked, somewhat amused by the sight before him.
"Ever take a gander at yourself lately?" An impish grin crossed Carlos's face. "You look like you got coal-faced!"
It was obvious that Mateus had not given any thought at all to the dirt and dust that had collected for years on the fixtures and had fallen onto his sweaty face. He examined his reflection in the glass of one of the Arcade's games.
"Well, bro, I guess we better put these here lights away before we cut the watermelon, huh?" Mateus quipped.
"Groovy, dude!" Carlos answered. "Give me some skin!"
The two men laughed loudly as their palms smacked together, and then turned to begin putting away the fixtures they had already taken down. Mateus began stacking the various parts near the doorway as Carlos hauled them to Room 212, the main storage room.
The afternoon sun was hot and both men were sweating profusely, so much that Carlos had removed his shirt and was now wearing nothing but the black jogging shorts and sneakers. He was panting heavily and had returned for the last load.
"Hey, Carlos! Who you got down there wit' you?"
"What're you talkin' 'bout?" Carlos stopped to pick up the last of the fixtures.
"Stand up and turn 'round here," Mateus insisted as he lit a cigarette and strode over to his friend. "Lemme see!"
"Check what?" Carlos asked as Mateus grabbed him by the shoulder and turned his back toward the light of the doorway.
"Just go to de lady's room an' check yoself in dat big mirror!" Mateus demanded, his wide eyes accentuating his bewildered expression.
Carlos took off in full gallop toward the women's restroom not knowing what he was going to find, but he knew Mateus well enough to know something was wrong and it worried him.
"Son-of-a-gun!" Mateus heard Carlos scream from behind the closed door. "What in the world?" He exploded through the door and sort of aimlessly walked back into the bull room.
Mateus was on the landing of the stairwell now peering down at the opened door of Room 212 where Carlos had been stacking the old fixtures. He had expected someone to appear from inside, but so far, nothing.
"Mateus!" Carlos called out to get the black man's attention. "How in the world?"
Mateus walked back inside and around Carlos. As he studied the two small, dirty hand prints still on Carlos's back, he wondered if his friend was up to another one of his practical jokes and decided to mess around with the idea. He knew that Carlos, even the fun-loving mischief-maker that he was, could never keep a straight face for very long no matter how well-planned and thought-out the joke was.
"So, who be yo' girlfriend?" Mateus asked, still staring at the hand prints on Carlos's back.
"I swear I don't know, Mateus! Ain't nobody 'round here 'cept us!" Carlos insisted, intentionally standing still so that his friend could look at his back. "I dunno how they got there, man!"
Mateus and Carlos both almost jumped out of their skins as the jukebox came on and the slurred and slow playback of a Dolly Parton record filled the huge chambers of the resort.
"Wat de hell es goin' on?" Mateus exclaimed as Carlos turned to face him. "First yu' gat a woman's hand prints on yu' back as if she was huggin' yu', an' now de friggin' jukebox comes on! Dis ain't funny, Carlos!"
"Dunno, man," Carlos meekly whispered as tears began to well up in his eyes.
Mateus looked at Carlos's expression and immediately assessed that if this was a practical joke, it was not of Carlos's doing. But, if not him, then who? And why? He also somehow knew that when his buddy said that he didn't know what was going on, he was holding back something.
As the slurred and slowed voice of Dolly Parton finally came to a halt and faded away, Mateus noticed Carlos's body was trembling, and, although he'd managed to restrain his tears, Carlos's eyes were still glossy with moisture.
Mateus was not hungry anymore, but maybe if he could get Carlos to eat something, he might calm down and they could talk about what just happened.
"Why we no get clean, then go eat?" he asked then turned toward the restroom to go wash up.
"Alright, I'm heading upstairs. Catch you in a bit."
"Alroi, buddy," Mateus answered as Carlos disappeared into the hallway and up the stairs.
Leaving the bull room, Mateus looked to his right and froze in his tracks. The jukebox was dark. None of its lights were on.
"Dat imposiboo," he blurted out as he examined the power cord. It was plugged in. He then climbed up onto the stage and reached inside the doorway, feeling for the switch that sent power to the receptacle below. His fingers finally finding the switch, he flipped it up, and the jukebox lights immediately flickered and came on in a display of brilliant colors. As he turned off the switch and the machine went dark again, Mateus couldn't shake the memory of the legend from his homeland, tales of vengeful spirits possessing vehicles and weapons, turning them against their former owners. But surely, what he was experiencing now couldn't be anything like that.
Mateus quickly got down off the stage and headed for the restroom to clean up. He recalled another legend from his homeland, one about a powerful underworld lord named Kumbani, who could seize control of entire cities and buildings, commanding his army of demon spirits to enforce his will. According to the tale, villagers were compelled to obey his commands, pay his taxes, and even provide him with his favorite delicacy: human flesh. But dismissing such folklore as mere superstition, Mateus pushed the unsettling thought aside.
After washing up, Mateus went back into the bull room and shut and barred the doors, then turned off all the lights. He then went back to the bar and sat there waiting for Carlos to come back downstairs. It was eerie inside the massive, darkened chamber, and a strange uneasiness washed over him. It was not fear. It was some abnormal deviation that he could not quite put his finger on.
As he sat at the bar, staring through the portal that led into the Arcade, his thoughts were interrupted by the soft touch of someone running their fingers through his hair on the back of his neck. He quickly turned around to see who this amorous playmate might be, but he found out that he was alone. Must have been the wind, he thought, and instantly realized that all of the doors were closed and nothing else inside the resort had moved, not even the cobweb that hung down from the ceiling less than two feet away. And it damn well could not have been Carlos---his little apartment was three floors up!
"Chisos! What de happen?" Mateus turned on the barstool back toward the bar. Looking forward, he realized that he could see his reflection in the mirror on the opposite wall if he would move over one stool to his left. Once he repositioned himself, he waited and watched, never taking his eyes off the mirror.
After several seconds, Mateus felt the light touch on his neck again, but saw nothing in the mirror. His muscles tensing, he quickly sprang around and grabbed at the air, but came up empty-handed. "Gu, Nkishi ya Bansa, protect me from di evil dat lurks in di shadows," Mateus muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, as he clutched a small iron charm hanging from his neck.
Just then, Carlos walked into the ballroom. "What's that 'Gu' thing?" he asked with a knowing look.
"It's---ah, never mind," Mateus answered, the anxiety revealed in his voice. "Let's weez get outta here and get sumtin' ta eat!"
The two men left the nightclub and went to eat at a popular fast food restaurant in south Houston for hamburgers. Once they had settled down to the meal, Mateus tried to press Carlos for answers about the going's on at the resort, but he would only talk about ghouls and goblins. He was hedging on the questions, and Mateus couldn't figure out why. Was Carlos afraid of being reprimanded by Buck or Wilma? Maybe he thought Mateus would laugh at him. Or was he afraid of something at the resort?
"Mateus demand explanation, Carlos! Dis invisible woman, she try to hold me, I be so scared! I pray to Gu, Iron God, defender of soul, weez worshipped in many places in Africa. I have right to know, Carlos! If I work there, I need know! My sanity, it at risk, too, in dis crisis!"
"Alright," Carlos finally gave in. "I'll spill the beans, but not here. Too many ears around. We'll talk in the car."
The two men finished their meal and left the restaurant. On the drive back, Carlos told Mateus about the building's hideous past. He ended the tale with the information in Sunflower's diary. He was not about to tell Mateus about the demons and the raging battle he had been forced to fight, and he was not going to tell his friend that the demons were back. He had not known that himself until today since only he was controlling his thoughts now that the demons were allowing him to do so.
"It's a wild Halloween tale, ain't it?" Carlos remarked as they pulled up in front of the building. "Chill out, man. They're just trying to give you a warm welcome."
The two men laughed as they got out of the car and strode toward the front door. Carlos had said "they" not "she," but Mateus didn't want to let on to Carlos that he had heard the discrepancy. He knew Carlos was still holding something back, but he would either figure it out for himself or wait until Carlos got ready to tell him the rest of the story. He knew it was no use in prodding the maintenance man any further.
"What's the deal?" Carlos asked as he reached out and pulled a note off the leftmost glass door. He unfolded the paper and read, "Carlos, did you forget that you were to come to the house and mow the lawn today? Wilma."
With a worried look, Carlos handed Mateus the keys to the resort. "Check it out," he said, looking at his watch. "I gotta hit up Buck's and Wilma's. Said I'd take care of their lawn this AM, spaced it. Be back by six, maybe sooner. Lock up that right glass door and don't let anyone in except me. Guests and staff come and go, they got their keys."
"But I no fit take dem lights down alone!" Mateus protested.
"Well, then, just do that gig up on the stage that Buck wanted done."
"Sho'. I guess I'll catch ya 'round six, then."
As Mateus locked the door behind him, Carlos got into his car and drove toward River Oaks. Reaching the end of the mirrored hallway, Mateus pulled the mini flashlight from its holster on his belt and shined it in his path. It was not necessary to turn on any lights other than those on the stage since he would be working in that area.
Buck had told Mateus that he wanted the stage, including the speaker columns at each end, dusted, cleaned and organized. It was a monumental task that would take three or four hours for one man to do, but Buck had been adamant about it, and what Buck wanted, Buck got! The new sound engineer, Joe Marino, had informed him that dirt and dust had very adverse effects on the quality of the sound produced by the tons of costly equipment Buck had purchased. For some reason unknown to Buck, Al Scott refused to work the soundboard anymore, so Buck had found Joe Marino to fill in temporarily.
Mateus had been busy for about an hour completely oblivious to anything except the job he was doing. He was facing toward the back of the stage, dusting off the drums when he heard a faint female voice call out his name from somewhere behind him.
"Don' bozzer me now, woman!" he answered as he turned to find the room empty. He suddenly realized that all of the ballroom lights were on.
"Whar you dey?"
No one responded.
"Stop de jokin'!" He climbed down from the stage and walked toward the back of the room. "Dis no de joke!"
His eyes scanned the area, but he saw nobody. He walked out into the hallway to the front doors. They were locked.
"I no de believe dis." he muttered as he walked back through the swinging doors into the ballroom, but saw nothing.
Rushing to the power room, he turned on the breakers, flooding the entire building in a sea of light. Going from room to room, knocking on every door and questioning the guests, he methodically searched every nook and cranny, trying to find the prankster, but to no avail.
"Dis no fit be possible." he said as he headed back for the stage. He knew that he had not turned on the ballroom lights, and he knew that there was no other living human being in the building except him.
Mateus sat on the edge of the stage trying to make some sense of what had just happened when his thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a loud crash from behind the stage.
"Son-of-a-beast," the immigrant screamed as he jumped to his feet and ran through the door at the right of the stage, scrambling around the power amplifiers and crashing through the backstage door. To his surprise, everything was in place and nobody was in the room.
"Mateus," a soft voice w whispered, as he stood there, motionless, contemplating this latest event. The voice came from somewhere out front in the ballroom. Racing back out to the stage, he arrived just in time to see a dark shadow move along the wall by the old kitchen and disappear.
"Ei! Você!" he yelled to the now empty room in Angolan Portuguese. Jumping from the stage, he ran toward the kitchen. "Ei! Volte aqui!" he screamed as he reached the door that led inside the kitchen. Flinging the door open, he was greeted by an empty room.
He searched the room, but nobody was to be found. "Dis be insane!" he exclaimed as he walked out of the room, sweat pouring from his face. "I ain't believin' dis! Dis be 'nuff to make me cuss!"
Suddenly, a loud rap came at the front door and Mateus hurried down the hallway to see if anyone was there this time. He was relieved to Carlos's face through the glass panels. Fumbling for the key, he nervously unlocked the door and let Carlos inside.
"What's the hassle?" Carlos asked as he noticed the anxious look on Mateus's face.
"Carlos! You no tell me everything!" Mateus exclaimed. "Your ghost problem worse than you say. I hear my name called by woman not there, and I see shadows on wall. You need to explain this!"
"Ah, don't sweat it, Mateus!" Carlos said, smiling awkwardly. "Sunflower's just messing around. She's harmless, just having one of those quirky days. Nothing to fret about, man!"
Somewhat suspicious but willing to accept Carlos's explanation, for now at least, Mateus looked at his watch and sighed in relief. It was now 5:30, and that sounded like going home time to him.
Asking Carlos to let him out, Mateus headed through the door to his car. It was time for a hot meal, a warm bath, and an evening of quiet reflection. It'd been a long time since the Angolan had prayed to the Christian God, but tonight he planned on doing just that.
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