The Jigsaw Man (22 page)

recognize the place?"

I looked back out the front window j u s t as the car

exited the woods and saw that we had entered the park¬

ing lot of N a t h a n Marshall's ugly red-bricked medical

center. There was an ambulance parked near the front

entrance, lights still flashing.

God, no! Not here!

"Why did they bring my family here? They need to

go to a
real
hospital. This place is evil."

"Evil? Listen, man, I don't know what to tell you, but

if you want to see y o u r wife and kid, this Is where they

are. If you'd rather I take you back into town—"

"No!" I screamed, a bit louder than intended. "Just

hurry u p , okay?" By the time we'd pulled to a stop be¬

side the ambulance, the policeman looked relieved to

see me get out of his car.

"Good luck, my friend."

I didn't bother answering or thanking him for the

ride. I took off r u n n i n g again. I couldn't bear the

thought of Dr. Marshall getting his hands on my fam¬

ily and every second might count. No one was inside

the ambulance so I headed for the front doors, only to

find both securely locked. I glanced back at the police

cruiser, ready to scream for help, but the words died in

my throat when I saw that it was Drake standing beside

the car, dressed in policeman blue and grinning at me

from under the brim of his rain-soaked hat. He pointed

at the door, then held up his big meaty fist and made a

knocking gesture in the air beside his head.

I didn't want to turn my back on Drake, but I was

more concerned for my family at the moment, so I

started pounding on the front door of the castle,

screaming for someone to let me in. The heavy door

swung open and Dr. Marshall's bitchy old secretary

ushered me in out of the rain.

"Where are they?" I asked, my fear barometer

steadily climbing, my patience gone.

"Relax, Mr. Fox. You'll find your family is quite well.

Dr. Marshall has taken care of them and they're both

resting comfortably up on the fourth floor. You can see

them anytime you'd like. I think you know the way."

With that, the secretary spun on her heels and walked

away into the high-domed atrium without a glance back

to see what I intended to do. N o t that I had any options.

The fourth floor—

Why would they have been taken to the fourth floor?

N o n e of the patient rooms were up there. The only

thing on that floor w a s —

No. Please, no!

I headed for the stairs, bolting up them two at a time,

moving as fast as I could. No matter how fast I moved,

though, I had a sinking feeling where this dream was

heading and there was no o u t r u n n i n g the shadow of

dread that followed, nipping at my heels. I burst into

the fourth-floor hallway and made a beeline for the

Bleeders' room halfway down the hall. It was the only

place up here my wife and son could possibly be.

At the door, I forced myself to walk inside. If I stopped

to catch my breath I might never work up the nerve to

go through with this. Jackie and Daniel were in the

first two beds on the right-hand side of the room, and

with one glance my worst fears were confirmed. Dr.

Marshall had cut their arms and legs off and turned

them both into Bleeders.

I ran to the foot of their beds, crying my eyes out

and wanting so desperately to tell them how sorry I

was this had happened, but I never got the chance.

Jackie took one look at me and turned her head away in

shame and disgust. Daniel, my pride and joy, didn't

turn away. N o , he looked right into my eyes and said,

"Look what you've done to us, Dad. I'll hate you for¬

ever for this."

I woke up screaming, my sheets soaked with so much

sweat it was as if I'd really been in the rainstorm of my

dream. I cried for hours, huge racking sobs, but no one

came to comfort me or see if I was okay. No one did

anything; not even the other Bleeders in the room with

me. Maybe they were used to hearing people scream,

or maybe they were lost within their own nightmares

tonight, and had no time to console me for mine. Ei¬

ther that, or perhaps there was j u s t no one left on earth

that gave a damn about me. ~

I closed my eyes and waited to die.

W h a t else could I do?

C H A P T E R T W E N T Y - F O U R

Lucas was right—this terrible place destroyed a man

after a while.

Wears him until he snaps.

I hadn't really understood the truth in what he'd said

at the time, and I hadn't been here even close to as long

as him, but as the days slowly turned to weeks, I had no

more doubts. As strong-willed and stubborn as I'd al¬

ways prided myself in being, I knew this place was go¬

ing to get the better of me. It was j u s t a matter of time.

The days when they drained our blood were a total

write-off—nothing but pain and suffering and, eventu¬

ally, the welcome embrace of unconsciousness. On the

off days, when they left us alone, all we did was sleep

and hope the world would come to an end. As nighttime

approached, the tension in the air would crank up a

notch or two, everyone's thoughts—mine included—

t u r n i n g to what awaited with the rising of the sun. Ex¬

haustion, anxiety, then full-blown fear were familiar

emotions, a never-ending cycle interrupted only by

sleep and the inevitable arrival of the nurses with their

new batch of needles.

I wanted to die. So did all of the rest of the Bleeders—

the ones still coherent enough to know what was being

done to them, anyway. Kill us quickly, and get it over

with. This slow torturous death we'd been condemned

to was inhuman and unbearable. There was no end in

sight, though, and nothing we could do about it.

At least things couldn't possibly get any worse.

Wrong.

"Why haven't they come yet?" I asked Lucas. "Have

they ever forgotten before?"

It was a bad day today, but the nurses and orderlies

hadn't shown up to hook us up to the machines. The

clock on the wall indicated that it was almost noon, and

so far, at least, not a soul had entered our room.

"Never," Lucas replied, fear evident in his hushed

voice. "Very strange. Something must be up."

The words were barely out of his mouth, when the

door burst open and in walked Dr. Marshall and Alex¬

ander Drake. An audible gasp was heard around the

room, but then you could have heard a syringe needle

drop on the floor, everyone deathly silent wondering

what was about to happen.

Uh-oh. This can't be good.

Dr. Marshall and Drake never came up to the fourth

floor to see us. Never. I highly doubted this was a

friendly social call.

Lucas was right. Somethings going on. But what?

They walked from one end of the room to the other,

creepily pausing to check each of us out closely, before

moving on to the next bed. Dr. Marshall had appar¬

ently discarded his wheelchair, and was now using a

sturdy cane to help him maneuver around. He limped,

but it was hardly noticeable. Quite a remarkable recov¬

ery, especially considering those weren't even his legs.

Made me wonder whose legs they
were,
and what they

had done to the poor bastard they took them off. Was

he lying here beside m e , somewhere in this room, or

had his usefulness wore out, and he'd already made the

trip down the
W A S T E D I S P O S A L
chute to the incinerator

down in the basement?

Dr. Marshall and Drake whispered over by the win¬

dow, t u r n i n g to point to one bed or another, then slowly

started making their way back to the door. My heart

began to pound when they stopped at the foot of my

bed and turned to look straight at me.

"You sure?" Dr. Marshall asked his sidekick.

Drake looked at me with eyes as cold, black, and un¬

feeling as those of a great white shark staring down his

prey. Then he took a step closer, a feral grin on his face

that made the resemblance to the shark even more

chilling.

"Oh absolutely. He's the one," Drake said.

The one what?

Ashamed of myself, I was uncontrollably shaking

with fear in the presence of these two madmen. A few

m o n t h s ago, I would have shot back a smart-ass com¬

ment, or at least told them to go fuck themselves, but

most of my courage must have been cut away with my

arms and legs, because I stayed silent, not daring to

speak.

"Fair enough," Dr. Marshall said. "Bring him down

as quickly as possible, Drake. We've wasted too much

time already. I'll go and see that things are ready."

"Yes, sir. Right away."

Dr. Marshall left without another glance back, the

other men strapped in their beds totally insignificant to

him, now that his decision was made. No sooner was he

out the door when a tall lanky orderly pushed a padded

leather-covered gurney into the room and made his

way over to stand beside Drake.

"Let's go for a ride, Mike," Drake said, loving every

second of this. Then to the orderly, he whispered, "Get

him out of here."

"Where you taking m e ? " I asked the orderly, as he

unstrapped me from my bed and roughly heaved me

over onto the bedside gurney.

He ignored my question, not even making eye con¬

tact with m e , so I snouted at Drake, "What's going on,

Drake? Leave me alone, damn it!"

He just grinned and turned away, motioning with his

hand for the orderly to follow. Within seconds, I was re¬

strained on the gurney and being pushed toward the door.

I managed to get a quick look at Lucas and Red Beard.

Both of them were trembling as badly as I was, their faces

paler than Arctic ghosts. I might never see them again,

and I wanted to say something to calm their fears and tell

them not to worry about me, but I never got the chance. I

was out the door and heading down the hallway before

I could think of a single thing to say.

C H A P T E R - T W E N T Y - F I V E

It was a terrifying and disorienting ride on the gurney,

having no idea where I was headed and being strapped

flat on my back, seeing n o t h i n g but fluorescent lights

flashing by on the ceiling as we hurried to catch up

with Drake. He was waiting in the elevator, holding the

door as we entered, still g r i n n i n g at me like an evil

clown with a dirty secret. I knew better than to ask him

anything, so when the doors closed, the three of us

rode down a couple of floors in silence.

Another mad dash down the hallway, once again rac¬

ing to follow the chief of security
(Was this the second

floor, or the first?)
until Drake finally stopped at a double

set of solid wooden doors, putting his hand on a

wall-mounted scanner and waiting for clearance.

"I'll take him from here, Steve," Drake said to the

orderly, shooing him away and guiding the gurney him¬

self through the open doorway.

Once inside, with the door securely locked, Drake

wheeled me to the center of the room and flicked a

switch on my gurney that enabled him to stand me al¬

most upright, so I could see t h i n g s easier. N o t that

there was much to see. It was quiet inside the room; the

temperature cool and the air heavy with moisture,

reminding me of the saltwater aquariums my father

had taken me to at Marineland in Niagara Falls when I

was a kid. W h e n I craned my head around, I couldn't

see any water, nothing but a big empty room with

Drake and I as the only occupants.

"That you, Drake?" a familiar voice asked.

It was Dr. Marshall's voice, but I still couldn't see

him, or tell where it was coming from.

"Yes, sir," Drake responded. "Ready when you are."

Dr. Marshall appeared out of nowhere, seemingly

walking through a brick wall, until I noticed the heavy

dark curtain flopping back into place and realized there

was more to this room than I was seeing. He walked

over to us and stopped right in front of m e .

"Morning, Mr. Fox," Dr. Marshall started, his tone

light and jovial, which immediately made my skin

crawl. "Consider yourself lucky, my friend. You've been

chosen to take part in something incredible. Some¬

thing, dare I say,
miraculous^

I actually started to laugh. I didn't mean t o , but I

couldn't help it. Perhaps my brain was a bit fried and I

was getting close to losing it, but the thought of me be¬

ing considered "lucky" was so far beyond ludicrous, I

couldn't help but chuckle.

"What's so amusing?" Dr. Marshall asked, the friendly

smile sliding off his face.

I knew better than to piss this psycho off further, but

I j u s t didn't care anymore. Screw him!

"You are," I shot back. "What's wrong with you?

You've cut me to shreds and turned me into something