Free The Whisperer (Nightmare Hall) by Diane Hoh

door slammed somewhere.
    Shea jumped and almost dropped the noose handle. The possibility that she might actually have to reach into the bag and fumble around for the handle made her blood freeze. She pulled the door open quietly, carefully. As she did, her other hand jerked the handle and the snake free and, in one frantic movement, tossed snake and noose into the room. Then she turned to leave. But in her haste, she pulled the door closed with too much force.
    It slammed.
    Behind it, she heard. “What? What was that?” and then a second voice ordering, “Turn on the light, quick!”
    Shea ran, the canvas bag dangling from her wrist.
    Half a second later, a scream shattered the midnight quiet. It was quickly followed by another, and another until the sixth floor resounded with screams.
    Shea stopped running. She wasn’t going to make it down the entire length of the hallway unseen. Doors were going to fly open. Heads were going to appear in the open doorways. What those curious eyes would see was a hallway occupied by only one person. Her. With a canvas bag clearly labeled PROPERTY OF A.B.S. LAB hanging from her wrist.
    When, minutes later, they learned that the reason for the screaming was a reptile from the A.B.S. lab, anyone with an IQ above twelve would make the connection.
    She had to get rid of the sack.
    Her eyes darted wildly about, seeking a trash bin, a closet, anything …
    There, in the wall opposite her … an incinerator chute.
    The telltale bag disappeared only seconds before heads began appearing in doorways.
    The screaming continued, reaching an hysterical pitch. People began moving out of their rooms, asking each other what was going on, some complaining about the nerve-shattering sound. Somebody shouted, “Hey, who’s partying and why wasn’t I invited?”
    Shea slipped into the gathering pack making its way toward room 620. She had to know what was going on in there. It didn’t sound at all as if the “joke” had been funny.
    More doors flew open, more bare feet joined the group hurrying along the hallway toward 620. Several people, including Shea, broke into a run as it became clear that the screaming was in earnest. There was no party going on in that room. Something was very, very wrong.
    They were just a few feet away when the door suddenly flew open and a wild-eyed Annette appeared in the doorway. Her dark hair hung in a tangled heap on her shoulders and her pretty face was ashen. “Help me!” she screamed, “someone, help! I think Bethany’s had a heart attack. Hurry!”
    Shea froze. Heart attack? Bethany?
    “And someone come and get this … this repulsive creature out of here?” Annette screamed from inside the room.
    Bethany was only eighteen. How could she have had a heart attack?
    A boy from Shea’s English class ran into the room, emerging a moment later holding Mariah aloft by the noose handle. There were cries of revulsion from the crowd.
    “That’s from the lab,” someone called. “What was it doing in their room?”
    “Scaring them half to death,” the snakehandler replied grimly. “Bethany’s out cold. Annette already called campus emergency.” He shook his head.
    Shea moved to the open doorway and stared inside, where several girls were helping Annette in her efforts to revive Bethany. The stricken girl lay prone on the floor, arms outstretched. Her lips were tinged with blue.
    “She’s always been so careful,” Annette was saying as she dabbed at her roommate’s forehead with a damp cloth. “Didn’t go out for sports, even though she wanted to, hardly ever went dancing … I always felt bad because I go dancing a lot and she couldn’t come along. She’s careful about what she eats, and she’d been feeling really good lately. And now this! I can’t believe it! Why would someone throw a snake into the room of someone with a heart condition?”
    Shea sagged backward, against the door. Heart condition? Bethany had a heart condition? Had the whisperer known