To Kill a Priest - The Priors, Episode 1 (4 page)

An uneasy feeling grew in his stomach, and
he frantically scanned the rooms for his goddaughter. Sinking
further into the tall building, he came to a stop in a room like
the rest. Much like the other patient, this one was pale, but fared
better. She seemed healthy, but something about the sight tugged at
him. Her wrists were tied to the bed railings with short straps, a
more common sight than he liked. Even with her eyes closed, Jedd
knew his goddaughter within seconds. Relief found him, and the
angst that accumulated during his thirteen-year search began to
ease. He had given up his life for her over a dozen years ago.

An instant after the thought crossed his
mind, a picture of his loving, yet distraught wife appeared.
Leaving her was a decision he hadn’t made lightly. He had chanced
to follow her once after his feigned death and found her bowed low
in the heat of the noon-day sun. She had fallen to the ground in a
city parking lot. Her legs protruded from under her disheveled
skirt like a small child, unaware of social graces and
expectations. But unlike an eager and curious, little girl, her
fragile hold on reality had fractured. She sobbed uncontrollably,
screaming his name. Onlookers gawked from the entrance to the
big-box retail store, but no one rushed to her side. It was as
though her guttural shrieks could be heard the world over. Driving
away and leaving her on the blistering asphalt was the hardest
thing he had ever done.

At least her screams didn’t escape the
deepest recesses of my mind.

Jedd tried to reassure himself with the
thought, but paranoia threw his gaze at the door before returning
to Madelin’s prone body. Seeing his goddaughter’s eyes still
lidded, Jedd let out a sigh. With great difficulty he suppressed
the memory, pushing it aside until another time. As usual,
Madelin’s safety was of greater concern.

Something about her still tickled the back
of his mind. Jedd pinpointed what was aggravating him. She wasn’t
coping well. Her nails had been chewed down to the quick, and a
drug-filled needle sat beside a vial on the tray next to the bed.
Taking a closer look, he noted the name, ‘Piroxiten.’ He was
vaguely familiar with the sedative, but the thought of using such a
potent drug on Madelin was revolting. It sat waiting for the mad
doctors in case the patient needed to be put under.

Jedd watched Madelin’s medically induced
sleep for a few minutes. Even now her lidded eyes shifted as her
brain acted of its own volition, breaking through the chemical haze
and immersing her in a disturbing dream.

It must appear more real
than anything in this place,
he
concluded.

Her head and hands quivered while Jedd stood
over the bed. His heart went out to her. As his emotions took hold,
his desire to help pulled him toward the girl. He became aware of
his reality altering. Madelin and the building around him shifted,
becoming a bad imitation of life. The hospital scene faded from
sight, leaving him peering through tear-filled eyes at a scene he
knew all too well.

The heat from the flames of Madelin’s family
home singed the hair on her arms and around her face, but she
couldn’t look away, and neither could her godfather. The voices
around her were no more than murmurs, like the buzz of bees, and
the people in black treated her as though she were infected with
the plague.

Madelin’s hands grasped tighter to Deedee,
her favorite friend and the only other thing to make it out of the
house alive. She clutched him close. Her fingers dug through the
ash and singed fur, finding the fluffy stuffing underneath. A
course crosswind blew, causing her to shiver in her sweat-soaked
nightgown. She watched the flames devour her past and future.

Does she even know what
the dream’s about?
Jedd
wondered.

Madelin gave him no answer. She just stared
into the fire with the infinite patience of a statue. Jedd watched
the flames dance amongst the gentle, red curls hanging tousled
about her head. Knowing time was of the essence, Jedd pulled
himself away from the scene that still haunted him and concentrated
on the young, heartbroken girl. Her emotions vibrated through her
mental synapse, and he sensed what she felt, as though sheltered
within the recesses of her mind.

First Contact

He opened his mouth to speak, but a raspy,
smoke-filled cough was all that crossed the void before
disappearing in a field of static. Trying a second time, he
croaked, “Hello,” but still an invisible curtain blocked his
words.

Watching the suffering young girl standing
in the driveway, he started a third time with more force. “Hello,
Madelin!”

The young child’s head whipped around, and a
haunting, remorseful stare drilled into Jedd’s heart. It pierced
through every curtain that could ever separate two people. The look
wounded him, forcing him to retreat from the memory and her
thoughts, back into the stark hospital room. Madelin’s eyes
fluttered open but he continued to withdraw, only stopping when he
sensed the wall approaching from behind. Standing opposite her, he
watched with longing as she looked around the room. He didn’t wish
to leave the woman who had unknowingly controlled each decision he
had made for more than a decade.

Awake, Madelin sat up and glanced around the
room. Seeing no one present, she muttered through tortured lips,
“How horrid.”

Her shoulders slumped as tears threatened to
flood her jade eyes. She tried to restrain the onslaught, but her
emotions won out. Tears emerged and masked her eyes like a
translucent film, clouding their inner light. Salty rivers streamed
down her sunlight-deprived cheeks. The flow intensified, and sobs
wracked her body. She tried to stifle the noise in the sterile,
white sheets, but her bonds didn’t allow them to reach her
face.

As she wept, Jedd heard her questions. “What
does it mean? What’s wrong with me?”

She clutched large fistfuls of hospital
linens, much like she’d held Deedee minutes before, tensing under
the restraints. After the bout of confusion and self-pity, her
white kimono was drenched.

Unable to stand the heartbreaking image any
longer, Jedd stepped forward. The static distortion crackled before
parting to his will. “Madelin, little one, don’t cry. I’m here to
help.”

The interruption startled Madelin, and she
sank into the bed further than seemed possible. The fear that
infused her glazed eyes left Jedd feeling worse than before.

But what else can I do?

The flood gates closed at the sound of
Jedd’s strange voice. Peering over the wrinkled mass of bedsheets,
she replied with a stutter, “Who-o-o are you?”

Seeing her fear turn to curiosity, Jedd took
heart. He was aware that she was unlikely to believe him, but
summoned the courage to answer. “A friend from a long time ago, but
we don’t have much time. Are you okay? Do you know where you
are?”

“
No, but how do I know I’m
not still dreaming? I can’t see you. Where’re you
hiding?”

Jedd’s voice responded, accompanied yet
again by the static, “I’m not hiding, and you’re not dreaming.
We’re speaking like we used to, back when you were a child. You
remember?” The question was tinged with the last ounce of hope he
could manage. Jedd listened for the door to announce any newcomers,
but the room’s quiet was only disturbed by Madelin’s sniffles.

“
No,” came the reply. She
shook her head.

His heart dropped like a stone, but he
noticed that her searching eyes had now focused on his location.
She squinted at him as he spoke.

“
We’ll have to work on
that, but first we’ve gotta get you out of here. Can you
walk?”

She interrupted him with an excited shriek.
“I can see you, when you talk! You’re standing by the window, where
the moonlight hits the floor. But then you disappear—why is
that?”

Jedd thought for a second. Seeing no way of
explaining what he really didn’t understand, he replied, “I can’t
tell you now. We don’t have time. Can you walk?”

Madelin squinted as he
talked, waiting for another glimpse. Then, she answered with
hesitation, “Yes… but I don’t know where to go. I can’t even get
out of bed without someone following me around with a handful of
keys and a loaded needle. What do they want from
me
anyways?” The last
question almost grew to a shout.

“
I’ll answer your questions
later. Right now we’ve got to find a way out,” Jedd whispered
insistently to break through the static. He forced his voice to
remain calm in the hopes that it would be contagious. “I can show
you the way, but I can’t do anything about the straps.”

Before the static had dissolved, her eyes
lit up. An opportunity at freedom had come her way. “I can get the
nurse’s attention…” As she finished the thought, her words
dwindled. “But she won’t take them off.”

Seeing an opportunity, he replied, “She will
if you don’t give her a choice. Can you reach the large needle on
the table?”

Comprehension dawned on her, and mischief
illuminated her face as she glanced at the nightstand. “Maybe.”

Her courage hasn’t
diminished,
thought Jedd with a
smile.

She reached toward the tray holding the
sedative. The restraints held fast, leaving her fingers straining
inches away. “Maybe if I…” and without another word she thrust her
body at the nightstand.

He shuddered at the sound as inch by inch,
the locked wheels of the bed squealed. They resisted, but Madelin’s
forceful jerks brought the bed closer to the small table.

The static flared as Jedd abandoned his
calm. “Hurry! Before the nurse hears you…,” but his words trailed
off as the door swung open to admit a short, broad-shouldered woman
in her forties.

‘
Helga,’ as her name tag
read, swept into the room and toward the half-pulled curtain with
the confidence of a no-nonsense mother with wide hips that looked
to have cradled many suckling children. Having inched close enough
to grasp the needle, Madelin stuffed it under the bedsheets. In her
rush, she caught the edge of the tray and knocked its contents to
the floor with a metallic crash. Helga came into sight a moment
later and looked curiously at Madelin, who was feigning sleep. His
goddaughter quivered under the wrinkled mass of sheets.

Seeing this, the nurse whispered, “Poor
baby… poor… poor… baby.”

With a shake of her head, she began to sing
a soft lullaby. It was a nursery rhyme Jedd remembered from his own
childhood. Approaching the side of the bed, the nurse bent down to
pick up the tray of medicine, unaware of her silent observer.

“
Oh poor gal, have ya had a
bad start from those awful dreams again? Well ol’ Helga’ll make it
all better,” she whispered after finishing the first
verse.

A smile spread across
Jedd’s face. He could see Madelin shaking under the covers.
The situation couldn’t have played out
better
, he thought.
She thinks Madelin’s suffering from nightmares.

Jedd knew the adrenaline rush coursing
through his goddaughter’s veins, and he watched anxiously as the
nurse searched the floor beside the bed. Helga stood partway up
with a perplexed look, but it was short lived as Madelin thrust the
needle up to the nurse’s neck—only just able to reach against the
restraints. A look of pure terror engulfed the broad woman as
Patient 914 threatened to pierce her esophagus.

“
Take these things off
me,
now
!” Madelin
demanded in the face of the startled woman. She spoke with such
viciousness that Jedd wondered if he had found the right
person.

Glancing out the window, the grounds loomed
up at him.

Whew… I did drift a long
ways,
he thought, seeing one level
separating them from the ground floor.

Below them were decorative bushes flowering
in the moonlight and a landscaped, grass lawn. Gauging the distance
to the ground, he realized that it was still too far for her to
jump. His first idea thwarted, Jedd turned his attention back to
the white hospital room.

“
I c-c-can’t,” the nurse
stammered back. “Y-y-you just a-a-aren’t feeling well. L-l-lie
d-d-down, darlin’. H-H-Helga will help—”

Before she could finish, Jedd’s eyes widened
in shock as Madelin plunged the needle into the nurse’s neck. With
half its length visible, the nurse’s eyes bulged.

Madelin snarled, “Do
it
now
!”

Helga stared into Madelin’s unwavering,
green glare, attempting to maintain control. Seeing few options,
her demeanor turned to submission. She released the closest wrist
restraint. Her head resembled still life in its lack of expression,
as though it were a trophy stag mounted upon a wall of thin air.
Her hands worked without vision and sought the last strap across
the bed.