The Lost and the Damned (15 page)

I sized up the window. Large window panes of frosted glass. I could work with that. I tapped the windows and they sounded thin. (Like I really knew the difference in the sound of glass.) It made me feel better, at least. I slid my hand along one of the chairs. Hard blue molded plastic, metal legs, a little hole in the plastic at the back for lumbar support or maybe to let your back breathe. The plastic was rough as I slid my hand across it, going over the idea in my head.

With a quick movement, I hefted the chair with both hands and slammed it into the window. The chair bounced off the window, out of my hand, and went flying out over one of the tables. A plastic window! I picked up another chair and tossed it at the window. It struck the window and fell to the floor. I yelled at the window. You hope for glass, but you get plastic. I guess a mental hospital was the most likely place that things would be safety proof for my protection.

My outburst over, I grabbed the fallen chair and set it upright. I sat down, brooding over this whole damn mess. Katie slid down into the seat across from me. I decided to go over my options. I had my most immediate goal completed; I had Katie, who was staring at me with her enchanting green eyes. What next?

Option 1: Find some way out of here. Break a window, kick down a door. Find the secret rabbit hole that would get me outside. I had a keycard, but it didn’t unlock every door. This had been my plan, but I wondered how feasible it was. I had thought about running for trees and hiding. I had no map and no idea how to get to a town or telephone. I made a mental note to include GPS in my emergency kit the next time out, assuming there was a next time. The other problem with this plan: Snipers. If the Army had a team of snipers out there, a dash for the tree cover could earn us each a bullet in the head, no questions asked.

“Hello,” said Katie, still staring at me.

“Hi,” I said, barely looking at her, continuing my brooding.

Option 2: Hole up somewhere and ride this out. All of the bathrooms might be full, but I was sure we could find someplace to barricade ourselves in. We could barricade ourselves in this day room. Tons of space, chairs, board games. I’m sure even in her strange state Katie could play a mean game of Chutes and Ladders. Pros: easy, little effort, feels safe, Chutes and Ladders. Problems: explosions, homicidal maniacs, monsters. I didn’t know if anything else was in store for this building. This wing seemed in pretty good shape, but other parts of the hospital were falling apart. I had no idea when another one of those pillars of light would pop up or what it would do. That’s assuming that the Army didn’t take out the whole building. I’m sure the thought had already occurred to them that if we were all expendable, they could just completely destroy the building.

“Hello,” said Katie.

“Hi,” I said again.

Then there was the problem of homicidal patients. So far, there hadn’t been much trouble. But if the doctors and nurses were gone and the drugs wearing off, things might change. If this went on too much longer, that was also mean unfed patients. It would take just one patient with anger issues to cause a problem, while half a dozen desperate, hungry, criminally insane patients would be a catastrophe. Those would be just figurative monsters. Real monsters would also be a problem. I had seen the Five leave the hospital, but I didn’t know what else was here. Dr. Merill hinted that those monsters were somehow a result of an experiment, and I didn’t want to know what other experimental results might be here. Moreover, Merill was afraid of something still here in the hospital, something that he thought was here even after those five monsters left. I really didn’t want to find out what that was.

“Hello,” said Katie.

“Hi,” I said, irritated. I caught her eye, the still large green mesmerizing eyes, and I felt bad I snapped at her. Beautiful girl, but not her fault she was currently such a poor conversationalist. Merill had said she was nearly catatonic. I’m not sure what trauma made her like this, but it must have been huge. I felt bad for her. I knew her bandmate had said she was hard to deal with, I knew he said she had lied to them their entire friendship. But nobody deserved to become this, an oblivious little girl in an adult body.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “How are you, Katie?”

She simply nodded and smiled. I sighed. Even with board games, this was going to feel like the longest babysitting job ever. I sunk back in my chair, staring at the ceiling. Did I have any other options? Option 3: the search for more options. We could wander around the hospital, looking for something. We could go all Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew and get to the bottom of the Mystery of Bellingham Psychiatric Institute, sans Scooby Gang. That felt wrong to me on so many levels. I didn’t want to go looking for trouble – curiosity killed the cat – and I didn’t like going into things without a plan. I’ve had to improvise on many occasions, but you don’t bring improvisation as your A-game. You need something to fall back on.

I sighed when I realized that the two options I had come up with were Run or Hide. What clever little mammals we have become that when the chips hit the table, it’s the same old same old. Run and Hide, the two oldest friends of the weak and the cautious. I never considered myself weak, but I’d like to say I was cautious. Sure, Fortune favors the bold, but curiosity killed the cat. And I had a cuddly cat of my own I wanted to return home to, no matter the allure of white sandy beaches. Still, sometimes even caution irked me. I felt like I had no control of the situation. All my plans were reactions, contingencies. There was no way to own this situation, to make it my own. Well, without becoming super nosy super sleuth.

My fearless self-examination was interrupted by a loud noise. It sounded like a loud humming and the crackling of electricity. Great. Was this place going to explode again? Because that would totally complete my day. The Run-For-The-Hills Option was seeming better and better. The noise seemed to come from outside the room, probably down the hall. It was becoming louder. I leapt out of the chair and slid over the table. Carefully I opened the door to the Day Room, peering out.

The sound was definitely coming from the left, the direction I entered the ward from. I looked down and saw a strange sight. At the end of the hall there was just a field of red. At first I thought it was some sort of red light bulb, as if some of the floor had gone into red alert. But as I looked at it, I noticed that it was a field of energy, red electricity arcing off of it. I could not see any of the corridor past it. That was enough to make me stand at the door, just gawking at it. I wasn’t the only one. Down the hall I saw the dark haired girl staring around the corner at it. I heard some voices from down the hall, but couldn’t hear what they said. I stared down the hall at the red field, examining it. In a moment another realization hit home: the field was moving quickly and picking up speed.

I turned from the door and ran into the room. At its current speed, it would hit this end of the corridor. From the hall behind me, I heard frantic shouting. I wasn’t the only one who realized the level of not-goodness involved in a rapidly moving wall of red electricity. I wondered if I had time to flip a table and hide behind it. I decided I didn’t have enough time and would practice some of the old Duck and Cover, but then I looked over at Katie. She was simply sitting at the table as if nothing was wrong. If this hospital had anymore exploding to do, she would get hit full force. I wasn’t about to let her get away from me after I had just found her.

The sound of electricity became louder. It sounded like it was just outside the room. I turned and saw that the wall to my left had started to turn red. The energy wasn’t just in the hallway, it was going through all the walls! My aching muscles sprung into motion, as I ran across the room and made a flying leap toward Katie, tackling her to the ground and covering her with my body. That’s when the world turned inside out.

Eight

TRANSCRIPT: INTERVIEW ROOM 5. PATIENT 457. ATTENDING PHYSICIAN: DR. MERILL

PATIENT: I shouldn’t be here.

DOCTOR: Why shouldn’t you be here? Do you believe that you don’t need treatment?

PATIENT: No, it’s not like that. I shouldn’t be at this hospital. I should be at another.

DOCTOR: Why another?

PATIENT: Don’t you see? I’ve been here before, and now I’m here again. Time is folding in on itself, the wave is collapsing. We’ve reached the end of things, it’s all going to become the same.

DOCTOR: And that’s all because you’re in this hospital?

PATIENT: Yes.

DOCTOR: So we should transfer you to another hospital?

PATIENT: Everyone should go. You don’t really know how old this hospital is and what it masks. It is not a safe place for anyone.

I was falling.

Untethered, unhinged, falling in black space. My mind was numb, a wet paper bag that lacked the strength to come up with a thought. I didn’t hear the whistling of space, I didn’t feel the wind on my face. I just had the sensation of falling downward. Eventually I landed in a room, not with a sudden stop or a crash, but due to a languid slowing, pushing through the ceiling like a ghost and landing gently on the ground. I landed in a small dining room. Brown wooden table, ugly wallpaper.

As soon as I hit the ground, everything started moving very fast. A dark haired boy of maybe thirteen years walks into the room, seeing a small blonde girl in pajamas. She says, “He’s waiting for you in the living room.” She says something else I can’t hear. The boy just nods, then walks into the living room. I can feel his dread as he enters the room.

Inside the living room is an adult, in work clothes, half unbuttoned. As soon as he sees the boy, he begins shouting. The boy does not respond, but the man keeps shouting, grabbing the boy’s arm. In just a moment, the shouting grows louder and the man raises his hand. I see him swing it down at the child, and things suddenly go so fast I can’t follow what’s happening. Pain, anger, humiliation, blood, betrayal, embarrassment. Then it’s all black.

I woke up in darkness. My head swam, but it cleared up rapidly. My muscles were still sore and my arms were stretched at odd angles, letting me know I was sprawled on the floor. I tried moving and found resistance. I pulled my arm out from under me and heard the sound of something falling. A pole? I fumbled in my pockets for the flashlight, my shoulders knocking into more objects. I finally found it and clicked it on.

A closet. Not a small bedroom closet, this was a large custodial closet filled with mops, brooms, and shelves of cleaning supplies and paper towels, which I had been knocking to the ground. I was on the floor amidst mobs and buckets. Katie was next to me, looking scared. I rubbed my head.

“Somebody put us in a closet,” I said. No response from Katie. At this point I didn’t expect one. I admit, spirits would have been lifted by a cry of “Nobody puts Katie in the closet!”, but I had to work with what I had. I was in a closet and I didn’t know how I got there.

My mind spun on the possibilities. We were knocked out, someone found us, and threw us in the closet. Really? That doesn’t make any sense. Didn’t they want to know who we were or why we were in the hospital? I checked my pockets and found my wallet and ID intact and probably untouched. So they found us and just chucked us in the closet, like so much trash? I knew weird shit was going on in the hospital, but surely we rated just a little higher than an annoyance. And Katie was a patient, wouldn’t they put her back in her room?

The space was big enough for two people lying down, but only just. With great effort, I pulled myself to my feet. There was the clattering of buckets and poles, so I hoped we didn’t need to be quiet. I dusted off my clothes and shined the flashlight around the closet. I didn’t see anything new, but I did notice the age of their cleaning supplies. Old bottles with really out of date labels, the kind the advertising agencies hadn’t used in years. We’re talking from other decades. I’m not sure if the cleaning solutions were even good after that long, so I was unclear on why they were keeping it in this closet. Then again, by the fact that the cleaning closet itself was dusty, maybe they were not diligent in their cleanliness.

I grabbed the doorknob and twisted. I didn’t push open the door; I just wanted to see if it was locked. It wasn’t. We weren’t meant to be prisoners, which made it more confusing how we got in the closet or why we were in it. I listened at the door, but didn’t hear anything. Either nothing was going on or the door was way too thick to hear.

I pushed the door open, just enough to stick my head out. It was a corridor lined with doors. From the architecture, I guessed I was still in the hospital; the hallway was similar enough. The corridor was otherwise unfamiliar; I had no idea where I was in the hospital. I saw no one in the hall. This confirmed that we were ditched in a closet and possibly forgotten about. What the hell?

I heard loud footsteps; women’s heels. I quickly pulled the door back, leaving just a tiny crack to watch. I turned back to Katie. She was entertaining herself by playing with a mop. I turned back to the door as the footsteps grew louder and came into view. I saw two nurses walking down the hall. One was an amazingly wide woman, a feature aggravated by her short height. The other was slimmer with a full foot of height on her friend. They wore white nurse uniforms, which confused me. The nurses I had seen previously wore scrubs of green or blue. These nurses wore the traditional white uniform: white cap, white shirt, white skirt, heels. I had thought that uniform had been retired.

They paused near the door and I feared they noticed me watching. Instead, the thin one leaned against the wall, lighting a cigarette.

“What are we going to do with him?” asked the thin one, exhaling smoke.

“Who?”

“Schraeder.”

“The new one?” replied the fat nurse. “Why, the same thing we do with every patient, Nurse Callahan.”

“But I’m worried. Did you hear about the boy’s history from the doctor? What if he snapped? I don’t want to think of the consequences.” She leaned forward and said in whispered tones, “I’m scared, Mary.”