In the face of my three consecutive questions, Buck answered one by one.
The hospital's backyard is haunted;
The hospital was cursed by demons, and the souls of those who die in the hospital are imprisoned in the backyard of the hospital;
The young black man's name was White, and he's taking me to White's house now.
Buck also told me that the hospital was formerly a psychiatric hospital, and was a church hospital before a psychiatric hospital. It was when it was a church hospital that it became cursed by demon.
According to legend, the church hospital had a female corpse from somewhere for autopsy research. The three doctors in charge of the autopsy all died in the autopsy room on the night of autopsy.
Later, the police intervened in the investigation, and the female corpse was gone. After an in-depth investigation, it was found that one doctor killed his two colleagues, and then committed suicide.
But they had very good relationship and had no conflict.
Since then, people frequently die in the hospital, mostly medical staff, either by suicide or by various accidents, with a strange inverted five-pointed star symbol left on their bodies.
This caused panic in the church hospital, and in the end the hospital closed down.
Shortly after the church hospital closed down, the psychiatric hospital took over. Things got even worse. Less than half a year after it opened, more than 50 people were burned to death in a fire, as was the director.
Since then, the hospital was deserted for more than two decades, and it was not reopened until the Connecticut Hospital opened last year.
It was said that the director of Connecticut hospital hired an exorcist to seal the evil spirits in the white house with the blood of Christ. Buck guessed that the security guards in the backyard of the hospital who suffered a series of incidents might have been caused by some problem with the blood of Christ that sealed the evil spirits.
After listening to Buck's story, I felt a chill run down my spine and asked, "Since there are evil spirits in the backyard of the hospital, why does the hospital hire security guards to guard it?"
Buck glanced at me and said, "Ask the director." After a while, he added, "Actually, I'm not an electrician, but a pastor. I came to the hospital to investigate the evil spirits."
"But why did the evil spirits say you were dead?"
"Of course in order to make you distrust me… They want to kill you."
I don't know how long it took, but Buck and I finally walked out of a narrow path, came to a big road, and continued to go east along the road. After a dozen or so minutes, we came to the town of Tol Barad.
When I saw a police car coming towards us, I was frightened and hurriedly hid and waited for the police car to pass by.
Buck asked me if it was a stowaway.
I didn't answer, just nodded humbly.
Buck patted me on the shoulder and said meaningfully, "God loves us not because of who we are, but because of who he is. No Jesus, no peace; knowing Jesus means peace."
Walking around the town under the leadership of Buck, we came to a house with lights on. The front door was very quiet.
Buck told me that White had leukemia and died in the hospital seven days ago. We came to White's house to pick up one of the items he had used before, and then we would take a pack of camel cigarettes to White's cemetery to console the dead, so that White wouldn't haunt me.
Because I was a stowaway, it was inconvenient for me to enter White's house, so Buck asked me to wait outside. I hid under a big tree across the road. Buck knocked on White's door alone. A black woman opened the door. I guessed she must be White's mother.
White's mother was very wary of Buck's visit. They talked at the door for five or six minutes before White's mother let Buck in.
I kept looking around, in fear that someone would find me. Americans are very fond of calling the police. It is said that the 911 operator is busier than the insurance telephone sales center every day.
Some people say that this is because Americans like to fight anxiety by calling the police. It doesn't matter whether the problem can be solved or not. The important thing is that the call is half the battle.
Therefore, Americans teach their children to learn to call 911 from an early age, and children who can call 911 will never feel alone.
I heard that a child in California learned addition and subtraction with the help of the police, saving the family the additional cost of a tutor.
Anyway, as an American, if you don't call the police several times a year, you'd be embarrassed to call yourself an American.
At that time, in the middle of the night, the street was so quite. A black-haired and yellow-skinned foreigner like me staying on the street alone would definitely be deemed suspicious, and then the police would be called to interrogate me.
As a humble, shady stowaway, what I feared most was the American police.
Buck had been inside for more than ten minutes, and I started to get a little anxious, forcing myself to divert my attention and think of something else.
But I failed!
I started to think that there ghosts were actually real!
The rules Morgan told me must have been tailored for the haunted backyard of the hospital. No entry into the white house, no outsiders allowed into the hospital, the back gate of the hospital must be opened and closed on time, and the back gate must not be opened during non-working hours.
These rules were so weird, but they were also reasonable, and no one would be mentally ill to deliberately...
Wait!
It struck me that when I thought about it, I came out with Buck through the back door of the hospital, which was opened during non-work hours.
Would it be all right?!
Just when I was thinking about it, a hand suddenly clapped my shoulder, I almost jumped from the ground in fright, turned around and saw a blonde beauty standing behind me, looking at me with a smile.
The beauty had golden hair down to her shoulders, a melon-shaped face, big eyes, smiling face with two shallow dimples, coupled with her white dress, it was easy to make people think of Snow White in the fairy tale.
It's just that her face was pale, so weakly pale.
The most important thing was that I felt like she was familiar to me, but I couldn't remember when I met her.
"What are you doing here sneaking around? Waiting for someone?" the blonde beauty asked.
I panicked. She said I was be sneaky. Would she call the police?
But the more I tried to give a reasonable explanation, the less I knew what to say.
"You look nervous. Am I scary?"
I stammered, "No, no. You are beautiful. I am amazed by your beauty."
The blonde beauty smiled and said, "Thank you."
Her smile was really beautiful!
So much so that I wasn't so nervous anymore, I glanced at White's house, stabilized my mood, and said, "I'm waiting for my friend."
The blonde beauty caught my eye and asked, "Your friend went to White's?"
"Mhmm."
"What's your relationship with White? Fellow patients?"
"No. We are hospital staff."
She frowned and asked, "Are you from Connecticut Hospital?"
I nodded. "Yeah. We're here running some errands."
"What're the errands?" she continued.
I thought she had a lot of questions, so I asked, "Who are you?"
"My name was Winnie, Winnie Taylor. White's former patient. He passed away. I'm here looking around."
Winnie?
Winnie Taylor...
I whispered her name and suddenly remembered who she was.
Wasn't the driver's license that I picked up in the pavilion in the backyard of the hospital Winnie Taylor's?
No wonder she looked so familiar!
It's just that White once said that Winnie was his girlfriend. Since White was a ghost, was Winnie a ghost too?
Thinking about this, I subconsciously backed away and kept a safe distance from her.
Winnie seemed to see my worry and said with a smile, "You seem to be afraid of me. I'm not a ghost. What are you afraid of?"
I asked embarrassedly, "You were also hospitalized in Connecticut?"
Winnie nodded and said, "Yep. White and I met in the hospital. I have the same disease as him. Alas… I don't know how long I'd live."
It turned out that Winnie also had leukemia, no wonder she looked so pale. I subconsciously looked at her feet, and under the light, there was a small shadow under her.
I consoled her and said, "Leukemia is not a terminal disease. As long as a matching bone marrow can be found for transplantation, it can still be cured."
Winnie smiled sweetly and said, "I hope so. By the way, you haven't told me why you came to the White's."
At this point, I was no longer wary of Winnie, and said with a wry smile, "You may not believe it. I met White at the hospital this afternoon. He went to the hospital to find your driver's license and gave me a cigarette to smoke. A friend said..."
Before my words were finished, Winnie suddenly became excited and asked in a trembling voice, "Is your friend's name Buck Jones?"
I said in surprise, "You know him?"
Winnie said in a trembling voice, "Of course I do. White was murdered by him!"