“Just don’t forget, shared credit…” Alicia said as she stepped back toward the door that led to the stairs. “Give Rodney your list on your way out.”
Mark was all smiles as he grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil and started listing keywords for the interns to research.
Young Mark stared down the empty hallway. The sconce lights glowed dimly, giving the dark woodwork a hazy, ghostly glow. The hallway breathed as before, undulating, expanding and contracting at the far end, almost in rhythm with Mark’s own breath.
The doors were all closed. Mark tried one knob. Locked. He felt drawn toward a room near the end of the hall. A sconce light near the door flickered in time with a crackling, electricity sound. The light went out briefly, then came back on and continued to flicker. Mark walked slowly toward the door.
Behind him, a door slammed. Mark jumped. He looked back, but saw nothing. As he started moving forward again the sobbing returned. It started quietly, growing louder the closer he got to the door. Mark paused when he reached the door. This one was ajar, a narrow wedge of light leaking out. He reached forward, hand trembling.
He slowly pushed the door open. The more it opened, the louder the sobbing became. He stepped into a short passageway, well lit by a bare, overhead bulb. The walls of the passageway were dark, wood paneled. They breathed like the hallway. A few feet ahead the wall on the left ended. Light poured from the space beyond. Mark stepped slowly forward until he could peer around the corner.
Inside, he saw the foot of a gurney. The mobile bed had a shiny steel frame on wheels. A thin mattress, covered with a rough blanket, was held a couple of feet off the ground. Mark hesitated, then stuck his head into the room to get a better look.
He saw someone on the bed, a man, under the blanket. His hands were bound by leather straps, the left forearm near the strap covered with a bloody bandage. The patient’s face was barely visible as it protruded from below the blanket and sheets.
An intravenous line ran from a glass jar, hanging from a metal hook, to the man’s arm.
The nurse with the pinafore apron stood with her back to Young Mark, loading fluid from a vial into a syringe.
The man on the bed whimpered, sending a chill up Mark’s spine. “No… no…no…” the patient repeated over and over.
The nurse tried to calm him: “It’s okay, you’ve had this before,” she said as she pulled the syringe from the vial and inserted it into the IV line. “Just relax.”
Mark watched as she pushed the plunger home.
She pulled the syringe from the IV line. “There, nothing to it.”
The patient grew quiet. Mark saw his eyes go blank. If they were focused at all, it was on something far distant.
The nurse turned slightly, forcing Mark to retreat back out of her view. From his new perspective, all he could see were her hands. He watched as she raised one of the patient’s hands, to the limit of the leather binding, and checked his pulse.
The patient’s wrist was limp when she began, but in just moments his hand began to straighten. His hand went taut, then his fingers began to curl inward, closing, tightening, until the knuckles of his clenched wrist turn a pale white.
Mark moved to get a slightly better view. He watched as the patient’s entire body jerked rigid, hands and legs flayed outward. Then, the patient bent at the waist, head rising off the bed, neck tense, ligaments distended, constrained only by the leather straps at his hands and feet. Mark saw excruciating pain in the patient’s face, his eyes bulging, bloodshot. The patient’s mouth opened in a silent scream as the nurse dropped his wrist and stepped up near his head. She pushed hard to try and hold him down.
Then all hell broke loose. The patient emitted a high-pitched, undulating scream. His body jerked violently, his head pitching wildly from side to side.
The nurse saw one of the patient’s hands begin to slip loose from the restraint. She turned to tighten it. She fought with the patient’s flailing arm, but finally got it secured. She turned and glanced back…and saw Mark. Her eyes locked onto him.
Mark panicked. He turned and ran down the short hallway and out into the larger hall. He first turned right, but quickly realized there was no escape in that direction. He turned around, and ran back past the entrance to the hallway. He glanced inside as he ran past. He saw her, and she saw him. The nurse was walking quickly toward him. He reached the end of the long hallway and looked back. The nurse approached quickly, taking long, purposeful strides. Mark grabbed the door handle, but it didn’t budge…Locked.
He grabbed the other door knob and twisted violently. No luck. He didn’t understand… the door hadn’t been locked when he came in.
Mark looked back. The nurse slowed down as she got closer, her eyes surrounded by black rimmed, cat eye glasses.
Mark hunkered down, trying to escape the approaching demon. He watched as she raised her arm, bathed in the glow of a bright light behind her. She held a syringe with a long needle. A yellowish fluid dripped from the tip.
Mark closed his eyes. He tensed his whole body and opened his mouth to scream, but nothing came out.
Mark’s body racked forward, sitting up in his hotel bed. Sweat poured from his forehead. He opened his eyes and glanced at the clock on the night stand.
3:06
With a shaking hand, Mark reached for the bottle near the clock and put it to his mouth, gulping down the calming elixir.
Sitting in the hotel restaurant, Mark was almost finished with his eggs and Bloody Mary when he spotted Ellen and a young man near the entrance. He watched as they embraced, kissed. The young man departed and Mark observed as Ellen watched him walk away. Then she turned and came into the hotel restaurant. Mark kept his eye on her until she spotted him and came over.
“Wow, you look kind of rough,” she asked, looking down at him. “Late night?”
She sat without being asked.
Mark took a sip of his drink and looked over at her. “Yeah, I was down in the newspaper archives until about ten.” He downed the rest of his drink. “What’d you do last night?”
Ellen looked away from his accusing eyes. “Nothing much.” She finally looked back at him: “So, what’s the plan for today?”
Mark leaned back, smiling. He knew he had her. After a moment, he pulled his notebook from his shirt pocket. He flipped it open and turned to the last page he had written on. “I have a list of doctors who worked at the hospital in the fifties and sixties. Several of them showed up in the local paper… for various reasons. One’s name was Hans Drexel. Ring a bell?”
“Maybe a relative. Father?” Ellen said.
“Could be. I want to go back to the hospital. See if Natalie will answer a few more questions.”