Nightshift at Old Pen Prison

Chapter 3

Natalie didn’t move at first.

Her pulse was still too loud, still trying to outrun what she had seen.

A person.

Inside a locked cell.

That wasn’t possible.

“Natalie.”

Her head snapped up.

The voice was soft. Close. Not echoing through the hall or carrying from a distance.

Right there.

Her grip tightened around the flashlight. “Mr. Martin?”

No answer.

The office door remained shut. No footsteps. No movement outside.

Then again.

“Natalie.”

Lower this time.

Closer.

Something cold slid down the back of her neck.

He must have come back.

He must have followed her.

That made sense.

That had to make sense.

She stepped slowly toward the door, her hand hovering near the handle.

“You shouldn’t be in here,” the voice said gently.

Not angry.

Not sharp.

Almost careful.

Natalie paused. “I… I thought…” She swallowed hard. “I heard something.”

A quiet pause followed.

“I know.”

Something about the way he said it made her hesitate.

Not dismissive.

Not surprised.

Like he already understood exactly what she meant.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” he added softly.

The words settled too easily into the silence around her.

Natalie exhaled slowly, her shoulders loosening before she caught herself.

“Where are you?” she asked.

Then, quieter:

“Come back.”

Her fingers tightened around the handle again.

“That’s not…” She shook her head once. “You said not to go down there after…”

“I’m here.”

Closer now.

Not louder.

Just nearer.

Waiting.

Natalie glanced toward the clock.

12:26.

Her stomach twisted.

“You shouldn’t be alone in there.”

That sounded reasonable.

Safe, even.

Her hand slipped away from the handle.

The hallway beyond the office looked darker now, still and waiting.

“Just come back,” the voice said quietly. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Natalie stepped into the corridor before she could stop herself.

The office door clicked shut behind her, the sound echoing longer than it should have.

She hesitated only a second before heading back toward C Block.

The air changed as she approached it again, colder and heavier, the same unnatural stillness pressing around her.

“You’re doing fine,” the voice murmured.

Right beside her now.

Not ahead. Not behind.

Close enough that her skin reacted before her mind did.

Natalie swallowed hard. “Where are you?”

A pause.

Then:

“In here.”

The words came from ahead.

From the cells.

From the same place she had just fled.

Natalie stopped at the entrance.

The darkness inside looked deeper now, thicker somehow, like it had settled while she’d been gone.

“You said not to…”

“I know what I said.”

The voice softened.

“I didn’t want you to see it like that.”

Her brow tightened.

“See what?”

She tightened her grip on the flashlight. “Who are you?”

Another pause followed, longer this time.

Then:

“Someone who does not want you to be afraid.”

Natalie stepped into C Block.

And stopped.

He was still there.

Not a trick of the light. Not a shadow.

A figure sitting quietly on the cot.

Moonlight spilled through the barred windows high above, washing over his face, his shoulders, his hands.

And passing through him.

Not completely.

But enough.

Enough that the edges of him looked faint, unfinished somehow, like the world hadn’t fully decided he belonged in it anymore.

Natalie’s breath caught painfully in her throat.

“Oh no.”

The words escaped before she could stop them.

Her flashlight trembled just enough for the beam to jitter across the cell walls.

That was wrong.

Impossible.

Ghost.

Of course.

Of course, the abandoned prison had ghosts.

No wonder the pay was so high.

No wonder nobody stayed.

“I beg your pardon.”

Natalie flinched violently.

The voice came from in front of her this time, soft and careful.

Not behind her.

Not in her head.

He had only lifted his head slightly, like he was trying not to startle her again.

“I did not intend to frighten you.”

His voice sounded strange, but not threatening.

Older.

The words were shaped differently, slower and more formal, as if he belonged to another time entirely.

Natalie swallowed, her throat tight.

"You're, " She stopped, shook her head once. "You're not, "

Alive.

He seemed to understand anyway.

A faint, almost apologetic expression crossed his face.

"No," he said quietly. "I am Robert."

That did not help.

That did not help at all.

Natalie took a step back before she could stop herself.

Her heel scraped against the concrete.

Her heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was in her throat.

"Okay," she whispered, more to herself than to him. "Okay, that's okay."

Ghost.

Actual ghost.

This was happening.

This was real.

Her mind scrambled for something to grab onto.

Anything that made sense.

Anything that explained this in a way that didn't end with her running out the front gate and never coming back.

He shifted slightly on the cot.

Slow.

Deliberate.

Like he was giving her time to track the movement.

"I shall remain here," he said, hands settling back in his lap. "If it eases you any."

Natalie blinked.

That,

That was... considerate.

She stared at him.

Really stared this time.

He didn't look like something out of a horror movie.

No blood. No distortion. No snapping movements.

Just,

A man.

Young.

Reddish brown hair, a little uneven, like it had grown out without care.

Faint freckles across his nose, softened by the pale wash of the moonlight.

His color was wrong.

Like someone had taken a normal person and turned the saturation down just enough that he didn't quite belong anymore.

But his expression,

That was the strangest part.

Not angry.

Not hungry.

Not even sad.

Just... careful.

Like he was more worried about her reaction than his own existence.

Natalie swallowed again.

"You're... a ghost."

It came out flat.

Not a question.

He inclined his head slightly.

"I believe that would be the proper term."

That almost made her laugh.

Almost.

Her grip on the flashlight loosened just a fraction.

"That's not, " She shook her head. "That's not a normal thing to just accept."

"I imagine not."

The answer came easy. Honest.

No argument.

No insistence.

Just... agreement.

Natalie hesitated.

Her brain was still screaming at her to leave.

To turn around.

To get out of this hallway, out of this building, out of this job,

But he hadn't moved.

Hadn't come closer.

Hadn't done anything except sit there and talk to her like,

Like this was normal.

Like she was the one who needed to adjust.

Natalie stopped just outside the bars.

Close enough to see him clearly now.

Close enough to know there was no mistaking it.

He wasn't solid.

Not completely.

The moonlight softened him, washed him out just enough that the edges of him blurred against the shadows behind him.

A ghost.

An actual ghost.

Her heart was still racing, her grip tight on the flashlight, her body halfway between stepping forward and bolting back the way she came.

He didn't move toward her.

Didn't reach.

Just watched her for a moment,

Then tilted his head slightly.

"You arrived in one of those," he said.

Natalie blinked.

"What?"

He nodded faintly toward the outside, toward the lot.

"The carriage. Without horses."

It took her a second.

Then,

"Oh." She let out a small, breathy sound that almost turned into a laugh. "You mean a car."

He leaned forward just a little.

Not enough to crowd her.

Just enough to show interest.

"Yes." His voice picked up, just slightly. "How does it move without them?"

Natalie stared at him.

Of all the things she expected a ghost to say,

"That's what you're asking?"

"If you would be so kind," he said, almost eager now. "I have only seen them from a distance. They arrive. They leave. No one has ever explained how."

The fear in her chest didn't disappear.

But it... shifted.

Tilted sideways.

She exhaled slowly, lowering the flashlight just a fraction.

"It's an engine," she said. "It runs on fuel. Gasoline. It, "

"How fast does it go?"

The question came quickly.

Too quickly for something trying to scare her.

Natalie blinked again.

"Fast," she said. "Depends on the car, but... really fast."

His eyes lit slightly at that.

Not glowing.

Not unnatural.

Just... interested.

"And inside?" he asked. "What does it look like?"

"Seats," she said, before she could stop herself. "Controls. A steering wheel. It's, " She huffed a quiet breath. "It's not that exciting, I promise."

"It must be," he said, like he didn't believe her at all.

That pulled a real, small laugh out of her.

The sound surprised her.

So did the way her shoulders loosened after.

He noticed.

Not the laugh itself.

The shift.

And something in his expression softened further.

Natalie stepped closer without realizing it.

Then closer again.

The bars no longer felt like a barrier.

Just... part of the room.

"You've never been outside?" she asked.

"I see what I can," he said. "Through the windows. When the light is right."

That wasn't much.

Not nearly enough.

Her gaze drifted over him again.

"You've just been... here?"

"For some time," he said.

Natalie hesitated,

“Why did you end up here?”

Then stepped inside the cell.

“I was a train robber.”

She didn't think about it.

Letting curiosity pull her in.

One second, she was outside the bars,

The next time she was sitting beside him on the cot, the metal was cool beneath her.

Close enough that she could see the faint freckles across his nose.

“You don’t look like a train robber.”

He didn't react when she sat down.

“What do I look like?”

Didn't pull away.

“Like someone I would be friends with.”

Just turned slightly toward her, attention fully focused.

"There is another thing," he said.

Natalie braced for the horror part of his tale. "I figured there would be."

He gestured faintly, like he was pointing through walls.

"In the room you came from. There is a small box. It hums."

Natalie smiled despite herself.

"The microwave?"

"If that is its name."

"It heats food," she said. "Quickly. You put something inside, press a few buttons, and it warms it up."

He watched her closely.

"And it does not burn it?"

"Not unless you leave it too long."

That seemed to satisfy him.

A little.

His questions kept coming.

Simple things.

Careful things.

Like he didn't want to overwhelm her,

Even though she was the one who should have been overwhelmed.

Natalie found herself answering.

Explaining.

Laughing under her breath when he misunderstood something and then corrected himself.

The fear never fully disappeared.

But it faded enough to sit beside.

To exist with.

The light shifted.

Subtle.

But enough.

The beam of moonlight that had been resting across the cot began to slide, pulling away from them inch by inch.

He noticed it immediately.

His posture changed slightly.

Not tense.

Just... aware.

"I must go," he said quietly.

Natalie frowned. "Go where?"

He didn't answer that.

Just looked at her.

Really looked this time.

And something in her chest tightened again.

"Oh," she said softly. "Okay."

She pushed herself up from the cot, brushing her hands against her uniform.

"That was... actually really nice," she admitted.

"Thank you. For talking. And for bringing me back. I probably would've just stayed in the office all night freaking out."

He didn't move.

Didn't smile.

Just watched her.

Confusion slipping in.

"That wasn't me," he said.