Green Pine House woke up in agitation. The nurse had to call the doctor late in the night. Mr. Santana's situation had suddenly gotten worse, and they had to transport him to the hospital. The workers of the nursing home were worried; by now, it was common knowledge that there was a lot of corruption related to the functioning of the institution. Some were thinking about what would happen if the building was closed.
For the workers, it would mean unemployment, and for the ghosts, having no lights during the night means the munchers would be free to roam unrestricted all night. Their only chance for survival was probably to get locked in some room forever, but even then, without the living to give them some energy, they might turn into munchers themselves. Others had the hope that the closure of the institution might break this jail and set them free, although there was no evidence for that.
John had this conversation with Martin while he practiced his leeching many times. It had already been a month since John had died and arrived at the nursing home. However, it felt like years. There was no need to sleep, so he didn't have that feeling of reset that came with every new day. By now, every day was the same day; the sun set and rose again, but the ghosts never renewed their day; they were always awake. Meanwhile, Elizabeth visited Crying Willy's room.
"Old Santana is about to die," said the girl.
"I know." Answered Willy.
"What is going to happen?"
"Beats me. But as far as we know, there is a high chance this place will be closed down." Willy raised his head this time and looked at the girl's face.
"How much energy do you have?" She inquired.
"Enough for a couple years or to give the munchers a good push twice, or maybe three times. How about you?"
"More or less the same, I guess," Elizabeth calculated.
"I don't think the building will go to waste; maybe it won't be a nursing home anymore, but it can be rehabilitated into something else. All we have to do is survive until the new users come in. Like we did twenty years ago."
"Do you think they suspect anything?"
"I don't think so; maybe Martin has his doubts, but for the most part, the excuse that we are old ghosts and need a lot of energy is still enough." Said Willy.
"How is your host doing?"
"He is holding on, but every day his mind drifts away a bit further. That makes him easy to control, like a puppet, but he is going to die soon. I should change my host before that; I don't want him to die on me suddenly during a muncher visit."
"If the worst comes to pass, what do you plan on doing with the others?" Asked Willy with that twisted, creepy grin on his face.
"They are on their own; you know we can't make the same mistake again. When push comes to shove, people will do whatever they can to survive; it won't be different this time. If they get enough energy to produce an interaction, we will have to spend our energy countering them. Too risky. We let them get eaten and survive for as long as possible. That is all." Elizabeth said this while leaving the room.
Willy lowered his head into his legs and sat there, grinning.
Back in her room, Elizabeth went back to leeching from her host. She lied; she had a lot less energy than Willy; at best, she could push a muncher back twice. She didn't trust Willy; she didn't trust anyone. Although they were the only survivors of the massacre twenty years ago, there wasn't much camaraderie between them. Elizabeth started remembering the events of the past.
The nursing home was temporarily closed. The residents were moved to other nursing homes for the time being, while Green Pine House went through some much-needed work and repairs. Back in the day, there were more than a hundred ghosts in the house. Leeching energy from the living on a constant basis was the norm; they took turns, and everyone knew how to accumulate it. That way, they could offer some resistance to the munchers in an emergency situation; it was not perfect, but they could buy some time or survive until the electricity was restored. But it also means that they could try to redirect the munchers to some other ghost. After the living left the place, at night the building became munchers hunting ground; there was no one to fix the fuse, and the monsters could stay roaming all night. Willy and Elizabeth survived by dumb luck. The other ghost wasted all their energy bouncing the munchers against one another until they all got eaten. Another lesson learned. That's why they kept the secret to themselves. Only by keeping an advantage over the others could they keep on surviving.
There were no muncher attacks during the week, not even flickering lights. John was focused on his training. Still no success.
"Hum... is not only the light." Martin said out of nowhere.
"What?" Asked John, confused.
He was focused on his finger and the old lady's skin, so he didn't actually listen to what Martin said.
"It is not just the light. Munchers don't like strong energy sources. Maybe that is why they don't appear until the fuse is blown and all energy is cut off; they could come out if the lights are off, but they don't," explained Martin.
"So, what do we do with that information?"
"Not much, but maybe there is another safe spot in the building."
"The machine room?" John offered it as an option.
"No, that has been tried before; it is not safe there."
After that moment, Martin started wandering around the building. He reexamined the walls once and again and looked out every window he could. He went down to the machine room. The Fuses box was too small to have any effect. If only he could remember or see outside the building, he would notice the old street lamp that somehow got stuck into the right corner of one of the building expansions twenty years ago. The builders were lazy, and the old iron post was well cemented, so instead of removing it, they let it in as part of the structure; they didn't even bother to check on the three meters of live wire that ran through the metal post and was still connected to the street main line. No one knew about it; no one knew about that spot except Willy. That was his spot in case things got really bad one day.
One week later, Mr. Santana came back, even weaker and thinner than before, but still alive. That was good news; everyone felt relieved that the old man didn't die. However, that same night, the munchers came for a visit. As usual, at ten o'clock, the show started.
"Lights, sound, action," said Martin, like he knew it was going to happen.
The munchers came out of the wall as usual, went for Willy first, and after failing, started roaming to the other rooms and ghosts. Elizabeth's room was already locked. John and a few others were at the pantry. They got in when the worker got out to fix the fuse, and as long as no one opened the door before the electricity was back on, they were supposed to be safe. The light went back on, the munchers went back into the wall, there were no casualties today, and all ghosts were accounted for. However, the people coming out of Elizabeth's room didn't look happy at all.
"What happened?" Asked John.
"Elizabeth's host died after he closed the door. They survived by an air strain." Ramon answered.
"So, no safe spot now?"
"She will have to get a new host; in this case, we need an old person with advanced mental degeneration so she can nudge him or her to close the door. Anyway, she will need time to adapt to the new host. And that is bad, as bad can be."
The nursing home personnel found the poor man laying on the floor as dead as a doornail. While they lifted the body to the bed to try to reanimate him, the ghost saw his own corpse get manipulated by the nurse and others. He looked a lot different now that he was dead—a bit more chubby and younger; his eyes were not out of shine; and his sight wasn't lost in nothingness anymore. He was confused; the room gave him a faint sense of familiarity, but he couldn't remember clearly. He looked at his hands and everything around him. His sight landed on a petite, beautiful, white girl with hair as black as tar. He didn't know her, but somehow he found her familiar.
"Welcome, Armando," the young girl said with a smile and a voice that sounded like the chant of angels.
"Where am I?" Asked the old man. By then, Shana was already by his side; she took him with her and explained the situation.
A lot of the ghosts knew Armando. But he didn't recognize anyone. He was already severely demented when he was admitted to the nursing home; he had no memory of how he got there. Listening to the workers talk about him, he found out he had been there for two years; his only son, who was a mercenary for a private military contractor, died in some war years ago. Now he was a ghost and was trapped there forever.
Meanwhile, the main subject of the day was the need for a new host for Elizabeth.