Reunion (A Psychological Suspense with Murder, Mystery and the Paranormal) (29 page)

They all looked around the dark room, seemingly aware of the evil that surrounded them, fearful of what David might do next.

Tanner was livid and stood up to address Bryan.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell us this before?” Tanner gritted his teeth. “What were you thinking?” He recklessly charged in the dark, dropping the flashlight, throwing a punch at Bryan’s face. “What’s wrong with you?”

Bryan reacted just in time, dodging the blow.

Noah immediately jumped in and bear-hugged Tanner from behind. His tall frame had filled out over the years and now outweighed Tanner. He pulled him back with both of his arms locked in Tanner’s elbows.

Tanner continued his protest by kicking in Bryan’s direction. Bryan grabbed a can of pepper spray attached to his belt.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” shouted Noah. “Go easy!” He continued to reel Tanner away from a confrontation with Bryan.

Bryan responded defensively, observing the group’s reactions. “I didn’t know it was going to be like this! Nobody could’ve guessed—”

Tanner interrupted. “Really? Well, that’s great! But Maria’s
dead!
And who knows what that thing’s gonna do next!”

Tanner pulled his arms free from Noah’s grasp, looking at the group with distressed eyes. The others watched him while he stood there with his chest pumping rapidly.

“We’ve got to fight back!” he said. “He’s toying with us!”

Tanner looked out into the dark cafeteria and raised his arms up to provoke David’s spirit. “Come on, you son of a bitch! Show yourself! We’re not afraid of you!”

“Why do you want to kill us?” shouted Kate with tears in her eyes, trembling. “What do you want?”

Noah shushed them, with a finger to his lips. Everyone stood still. He shouted into the echoing space, “Do you want us to kill you?”

A loud hammering noise pounded in the distance.

Tanner flinched. “Is that a yes?”

“What was th—”

BANG! BANG! The noise interrupted Kate.

“There it is again! It’s coming from the boiler room,” said Noah.

“It’s just thunder,” blustered Bryan.

“No! I think it’s David,” asserted Noah.

“How can that be?” asked Lana. “David’s dead!” She started crying. Noah put his arm around her.

“Yeah. How can we kill someone who’s already dead?” asked Kate.

“You can’t.” Noah answered sternly. “What’s dead is dead. He’s just trying to communicate with us. And sometimes the message gets distorted. Sometimes what we hear isn’t always what the spirit wants to say.”

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Kate and Lana shrieked in fear.

“That’s it! I’m going after him!” insisted Tanner as he picked up the flashlight. He stepped away from the group and looked toward the hallway leading to the boiler room. “Anyone wanna join me?”

Bryan replied, “I’ll come.”

Tanner’s shoulders dropped in displeasure, knowing that he was coming only as a show of penance for Kate. “Fine.”

“I’ll stay with Lana and Kate,” said Noah. “You two go ahead. We’ll be fine.”

Tanner and Bryan walked back down the hallway to find the source of the noise. The voices of those remaining behind grew faint as Tanner and Bryan walked on. Bryan took the flashlight from Tanner and swung the beam, looking into the darkness. They moved forward, silently, toward the boiler room.

O
utside, the light rain had escalated into a clamoring thunderstorm. The air coming through the vent filled Larry’s car with the smell of wet earth. His windshield wipers moved at full speed, splashing sheets of water off the front window with each swipe. Larry’s eyes strained to see the road ahead as he passed a green sign that read “Mount Carmel State Institution—2 miles.”

“Thank God,” he said to himself.

He nudged Nick with his elbow.

“Nick!”

Nick grunted.

“We’re almost there. D’you see the lights up ahead?”

Nick nodded.

“That’s Mount Carmel.”

Nick stretched his legs and sat up.

“Get any sleep?” asked Larry.

Sluggishly Nick replied, “No. Just watchin’ the rain and thinking.”

The yellow lines on the road zipped by and the lights from the institute grew larger by the second. Larry slowed down and merged onto the exit ramp. To his right, he could see the lighted courtyard guarded by a tall chain-link fence. Were it not for the rain, darkness and the present circumstances, he thought he might have enjoyed the picturesque campus. Constructed on eighty acres of rolling woodlands, the craftsman-style buildings accentuated the beautifully landscaped facility. Sadly, it housed people who could seldom appreciate it.

• • •

As they pulled into the parking lot, Nick sat up and glanced at the three-story dormitory that he knew housed the state’s most hopeless mental patients. The rain pelted Larry’s car, sounding like a popcorn machine going full bore. Nick looked at the lighted windows across the face of the building and wondered which room belonged to David Ray and if Larry’s claims were true.

Questions about David’s existence entered his mind with each splashing raindrop. Could he really be alive after all these years? Impossible. Surely, he’d passed away—death by brain tumor or other complication? Maybe he drowned in his own vomit. Drug overdose? Perhaps a staff member had poisoned him, slipping him a few too many meds.

Larry parked the car and turned to his seemingly serene passenger.

“Ready?”

Nick acknowledged by nodding his head.

Larry gripped his key chain and said, “Let me take the cuffs off. I don’t think they’ll let you in if they see ‘em on you.”

Nick grinned and stuck his hands out toward Larry. “Sounds good to me.”

Larry unlocked the restraints and snapped the cuffs back on his utility belt.

The two men stepped out of the car and sprinted through the pouring rain toward the main entrance of the building. Larry opened the door and they both ran inside. They brushed water from their clothes and hair and wiped their feet on a big
Welcome
mat. Nick immediately noticed a stubby middle-aged woman sitting in an enclosed booth. She could only be seen through a small, sliding glass window. The woman opened the window, exposing her round face, and then she recited her standard monotone welcome.

“Welcome to Mount Carmel. How may I help you?” She sat back in her chair, chewing gum. Her eyes glanced at the puddles of water accumulating near the men’s feet.

Larry responded, “We’re here to see David Ray. I made arrangements yesterday.”

The woman looked at him sharply.

“Uh…David who?” she stammered.

“David—Jonathan—Ray,” reiterated Nick, leaning forward and accentuating each word.

The woman cocked her head and stared at Nick.

Nick smiled and turned away, rubbing his sore wrists. He walked through the room studying its contents. The foyer measured ten by ten feet and consisted of brilliant-white marble tiles on the floor with white plaster walls. The receptionist’s booth stood directly in the middle of the interior wall. She glared at Larry and Nick as if they were in the wrong place.

“You’ll have to sign in before you can see anyone,” she said with a gravelly voice.

They obeyed.

While signing the visitors’ log, Nick read the name tag pinned to her white smock: Meredith Stanford. She picked up a telephone and made an announcement over the PA system. Nick watched her as he casually walked about.

“Doctor Mueller dial 8-1-1, please. Doctor Mueller, dial 8-1-1.”

She turned her suspicious eyes back to Nick and Larry.

“Thank you, Meredith,” Nick said with another smile.

“Mmmm-hmmm,” she mumbled.

The phone rang. Meredith covered her mouth, whispering with someone on the other end. Larry and Nick dawdled through the foyer continuing to brush off as much water from their hair and clothing as they could. Nick pretended to study a wall of pictures that chronicled the institution’s staff and history.

After hanging up the phone, Meredith cleared her throat to get their attention.

“Ahem,” she said. “Dr. Mueller will be here momentarily.”

Larry grinned and said, “Thank you.”

Minutes later, Dr. William Mueller stood in front of a thick glass security door leading to the foyer. He pushed a button that buzzed inside the booth. Meredith unlocked the door and it swung open. Dr. Mueller approached the two visitors. He was much shorter than Larry and Nick, with cold blue eyes, short white hair and a well-trimmed beard. He shook hands and greeted them, but like Meredith, as if he were suspicious of their presence there. Nick stared the doctor down, unimpressed with his white coat.

“Welcome, gentlemen,” said the doctor. “What can I do for you?”

Larry smiled and said, “We’d like to see David Ray. That is, if he’s still with you.”

The doctor opened his mouth to reply, but paused before speaking. His brow furrowed in response to Larry’s request.

“David Ray? Why do you want to see him? Is it official business?”

“Yes it is,” insisted Larry. “I spoke with the registrar yesterday and he said there would be no problem, to just come right over.”

“Ah…well the registrar cares nothing for policy on my wards and I was not informed of your request. Visiting hours are over for today, but…” He tilted his head at Larry’s protest. “I suppose a short visit couldn’t hurt. You do realize he’s in a PVS?”

“PVS?” asked Larry, although he knew what it meant.

“PVS—a persistent vegetative state. He arrived in a coma. Days later, he fell into an unresponsive vegetative state and has remained that way since.”

Nick suddenly jerked back to full attention. His eyes were riveted on the doctor.

“Are you saying David Ray’s still alive?” asked Nick. “Seriously?”

“Yes…but I thought you already knew that,” said the doctor, puzzled.

Nick pressed for more information. “And he’s here…in this building?”

“Yes.”

Nick acknowledged the doctor’s response, but kept his true feelings hidden. His heart burned with a rekindled hatred for his brother’s murderer. He took a deep breath and put on a fake smile. No matter how he felt, something told him he’d ended up in the right place.

“I’ll take you to his room,” said Doctor Mueller. He examined Nick with a suspicious glare, gestured to Meredith to buzz the door open, and led the two men up to the third floor of the facility.

As they walked through the white hallways of the building, Doctor Mueller made occasional remarks, pointing out the different features of the facility. Nick studied the orderlies and patients. He watched a woman in a dressing robe and slippers shuffle her feet across the floor into a lounge area. She was keeping herself busy counting on her fingers, one after the other, over and over again. As they passed the cafeteria, he noticed that all the orderlies, both male and female, were tall and strong. He assumed that their work was mainly physical, assisting patients in some way. His assumption proved correct when he witnessed one of the orderlies assisting a patient with his meds. Wearing only a long white robe and with thinning, disheveled hair, the patient turned his head, refusing the medicine. He compressed his lips to prevent the orderly from administering the drugs. The attendant pushed the pills to his lips, but could not get the patient to open his mouth. Expertly, as if he had done it countless times, the orderly grabbed the man’s chin, forced his mouth open, and stuffed the pills in. He handed the man a Dixie Cup filled with water and helped him drink it. Most of the water spilled onto the patient’s robe.

Nick sniffed the air. “It smells funny in here. Smells like dirty socks and toilet cleaner.”

The doctor laughed dryly at Nick’s remark. “That’s a pretty close description. We have many patients who require maximum care. Your friend, David Ray, is one of them.”

“Oh no…not my friend,” Nick muttered under his breath.

“How do you mean?” asked Larry.

“Ahhh. Mr. Ray is what we call a
golden patient
.”

“Golden patient? What’s that?” Nick asked.

The doctor smiled. “Confidentially, since you obviously know about him, a golden patient is one who has been given to us by the state. As long as he remains alive, we will continue to receive the generous funds provided by the state of Idaho for his care. We always have to fight for our share of the research grants in this place…but he belongs to me and my team. The money cannot be funneled by the administration to any other ward as long as he’s in the PVS program.” He paused triumphantly. “David is part of a study in PVS longevity, so he requires constant care around the clock. We monitor his vital signs every hour. Also, because he cannot move, we are constantly dealing with his bedsores and infections. He has a daily dip in a hot tub and a full-body massage. This minimizes contusions and bruising and as a result…our golden patient remains amongst the living.” The doctor spoke enthusiastically, as if he were very pleased with this outcome.

Larry stopped walking and looked him squarely in the eye. Nick watched the two men interact.

“How long can he survive like this?” asked Larry.

“Well, that’s what we are trying to find out. We experiment with an assortment of therapies and log the results.” The doctor paused and added, “He certainly has beaten all the odds. He should be dead by now, but we pump him full of antibiotics at the sign of any infection and he continues to survive. The state has no protocol for someone like David, so we keep him clean and feed him intravenously. Gratefully, he lives, providing much needed funding for my team’s research here.”

“Are you serious?” asked Nick. “The guy kills eight kids and a teacher and gets to live the rest of his life in a day spa?”

“Yes. You are correct. But he’s not really living. He doesn’t enjoy the treatments. He has no feelings or emotions. He just lies in bed all day…waiting to die. He’s nearly brain-dead, you know.”

The men stood silent in the hallway. Dr. Mueller paused near a door.

“Is he aware of his environment?” asked Nick.

“Not likely,” said the doctor. “Although he has sleep-wake patterns.”