Asylum (47 page)

            Another
young woman, one with short, blonde, snow-flecked hair trailed behind the boy,
watching Father Andrew with uncertainty.

            The
priest’s reaction was entirely knee-jerk.

            “Come
in,” he ordered, “Bring her inside.  Was there an accident?”

            The
young man didn’t hesitate.  He pushed past Father Andrew and quickly found the
living room, the only lighted area in the house.  Laying the girl on the couch,
he whirled on the priest with those terrified eyes.

            “She
needs help.  There’s something wrong.  I know this sounds crazy, but you’re a
priest and…and I think she’s possessed.  I think it’s a demon or something,” he
explained in a shaking voice.

            Father
Andrew checked the desire to laugh.  With effort, he made his face grave and
concerned.

            “And
have you all been drinking tonight, my son?” he asked.

            “Ohhhhhhh
yeah…definitely,” the blonde girl replied, stamping the snow off her high
heeled boots.  “Without a doubt, everyone’s had a lot to drink.”

            Father
Andrew took stock.  A girl passed out on his couch, a terrified young man
talking about demons, and the unaffected attitude of the blonde friend standing
next to him.

            “You
need to take this young woman to an ER to get her stomach pumped, not to a
priest,” Father Andrew addressed the boy.

            “Nah,
I’m willing to bet she’s only had a couple of shots all night,” the girl next
to him disagreed.  “If they did an alcohol level, it wouldn’t even be high
enough to give her the charcoal, and trust me, I
am
an expert on alcohol
poisoning.”

            The
boy in front of him began pacing in short, tight strides.

            “It’s
not the alcohol, okay?  We saw something.  There was a face in the window, and
there was writing on the wall, and the whole school year…its just been one
thing after another.  The girls thought there was this ghost-”

            “Oh,
there
was
a ghost,” the blonde girl interrupted.  “he never believed it,
but there really was a ghost.  We live in a converted mental asylum that was
almost burned down a hundred years ago…I mean there
should
be a ghost or
two by all rights.”

            Father
Andrew felt overwhelmed.  He swerved his head dizzily between the pacing boy
and the girl standing next to him.  This was getting out of hand.  The girl on
the couch clearly needed medical attention.

            “We’ll
talk about all of this.  I promise, we’ll all sit down and talk about this, but
right now, I need to call an ambulance.  This child is sick, she needs medical
help,” Father Andrew pleaded, eyeing the phone on the coffee table.

            “I’m
telling you she needs another kind of help!”  The boy almost screamed.  “I
thought that too.  Sam thought she was having some kind of mental breakdown-”

            “I
did,” the girl next to him agreed calmly.

            “But
then there was this face in the window, this awful face, and it disappeared in
front of us.  We saw it!  We both saw it!  Help her, you have to help her!”  He
demanded.

            “I
will.  I’ll do everything I possibly can…after we get her to a hospital,”
Father Andrew reassured him, edging closer to the phone on the table.

            But
the young man was quicker, he saw where the priest’s eyes were directed. 
Quickly, he bent down and yanked the phone cord, ripping it out of the wall.

            “Young
man, you had better stop before I call the police!” Father Andrew warned.

            “You’re
a priest!” the boy accused red-faced.  “I had my first communion, I went to
catechism, I’m confirmed, I’m a Catholic, my last confession was twelve days
ago, right before Christmas.  I believe!  I’m asking you to do your job!  Do
something, damn it!”

            Father
Andrew blanched. 
Do
something.  Be a priest, be a warrior of God
against the Devil and his dominions, an enemy he truly believed existed. 
Do
something
.  The girl on the couch gave a weak moan.  For a second…only for
a second, his pulse quickened, his mind racing to movie scenes from the
Exorcist, to a one-on-one fight for the soul of one of God’s children. 
Thrilling, Hollywood-type horror-drama…a deployment of the home guard to the
big war. 

            The
painful sound the poor girl made brought him back to reality in an instant. 
Poor child…drunk to the point of passing out, her friends most likely on some
type of hallucinogenic drug.

            “Young
man, I know my duty, now give me that phone,” Father Andrew ordered.

            But
the boy only backed away a few steps further, shaking his head.

            “Call
the police or an ambulance or whoever you want, I don’t care, I won’t try to
stop you, as long as you help her first,” he demanded.

            He
wrapped one arm tightly around the phone, apparently ready to hold it hostage. 
With one eye on the girl, Father Andrew drew back his calm demeanor, and did
his best to pacify the situation.

            “My
son, you seem to think that because I’m a priest I have the special privilege
of performing exorcisms, casting out demons whenever I want, at my own
discretion.  This just isn’t the case.  It’s quite a prolonged process.  To
begin with, the possessed subject has to exhibit a number of hallmark signs.  I
couldn’t give you a complete list from memory but there are many specific
things.  Has the individual spoken in languages previously unknown to them? 
Has the subject exhibited an aversion to religious artifacts, or have they
exhibited direct knowledge of future events?  I doubt she qualifies in one out
of the three.  You carried her under a cross, “ the priest nodded towards the
wooden crucifix nailed over his door, “She hasn’t even spoken English since
you‘ve been here, and as for knowing the future, I doubt that right now she
even understands the present.  She has no idea where she is.  Yet let us say
she had exhibited some of these signs, we would still need to apply for
permission from the Bishop, and that would only be granted after a thorough
medical and psychological examination.  A demonic possession is a serious
matter, which one would never want to confuse with say…a psychological disorder
or inebriation.  That’s why there are rules in place.  Now calm down and think
rationally.  Rather than leap to demonic possession as your first theory, don’t
you think we should rule out the simpler explanation of excessive alcohol
consumption?  Possibly even talk with the people in the mental health
department?  They can come right to the hospital.  I promise you that if we can
eliminate all other possibilities, and the girl consents, the church will be willing
to do whatever’s necessary.  We have services in place that can offer
treatment, even at very little or no cost.  We will certainly help-”

            “No!”
the boy yelled.  “No!  No one would believe her, last time she tried to get
help everyone thought she was crazy, but I’m telling you, we saw something, a
ghost, or a demon, or…I don’t know what it was, but Sam and I both saw it, and
I don’t even believe in that kind of crap!” 

            The
boy stopped pacing and used his free hand to rub his forehead.  He seemed to be
thinking very hard.  No longer talking to the priest, he began speaking,
perhaps addressing a higher power.

            “Look,
if there really are things in this world like what I saw, like bad ghosts or
demons or whatever, then there has to be good too.  God
has
to exist,
it’s balance or something, and if
you
exist then maybe praying or asking
you for things might actually work, I don’t know.  Why are you letting her
suffer?  Why are you allowing her to be treated the way she has, allowing this
to drive her nuts?  Why don’t YOU do something?  Is that asking too much?  I
don’t think I’ve asked for anything before, not specifically.  Or at least make
him do something!” the boy raged.

            Father
Andrew glanced again at the young woman.  She appeared to be breathing normally,
her chest rising and falling with regularity.  He was no medical expert,
couldn’t even tell you what the symptoms of alcohol poisoning might be beyond
passing out, but he did know that many of his students had admitted drinking to
the point of passing out before, and then sleeping it off, and if it would get
them to the point of being able to call an ambulance or take the child to the
hospital, then maybe…maybe…

            “Maybe
there is something I can do,” Father Andrew decided.

            “Thank
you,” the boy said to the ceiling.

            “It’s
called the Chaplet of St. Michael the archangel.  It’s not an exorcism, to be
clear on that point, but is supposed to fight off demonic influence…among other
things.  I’ll have to find a book to be sure, but I will pray it for the girl if
you’ll allow me to get her medical assistance afterwards,” the priest
bargained.

            “Do
it,” the boy agreed, nodding at him.

            Father
Andrew strode towards the built in shelves on the far wall and selected a book
bound in green leather.  He opened it to the Index, found a page number, and
quickly thumbed through it until he came to the chaplet.

            “So
is this going to take awhile, or…?” Sam asked.

            “Well,”
Father Andrew turned the pages eyeing the prayer over, “It begins with an act
of contrition, followed by nine salutations, one for each choir of angels, and
each of these nine parts is followed by one Our Father and three Hail Mary’s,
then four Our Fathers, and lastly a prayer to St. Michael.”

            “Well,
I guess I’ll have a seat then,” Sam yanked off her boots, and sat down on the
couch, lifting the other girl’s feet and setting them on her lap.  “Sorry,” she
apologized, “Go ahead, do your thing.  I just had to sit down.  I swear,
outside I was fine, the minute I walked in here, my head just started killing
me.  Like, serious splitting headache.  I think if Chloe comes out of this
okay, I might try to cut back on the drinking…at least for a little while.”

            “What
is her name?” the priest asked him, ignoring Sam.

            “Chloe,”
the boy answered quickly.  “her name is Chloe.”

            Father
Andrew took a few steps closer to the couch, standing near Chloe‘s head.  He
made the sign of the cross, more from habit than anything else.

            “O
God, come to my assistance!  O Lord, make haste to help me!” he began.

            The
boy watched him, nodding his head and still clutching the phone.  He looked
over his shoulder once, then twice.  Father Andrew had a strong feeling that
the boy might have more wrong with him than the alcohol.

            “Glory
be to the Father,” he continued, “and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit: As it
was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end.  Amen.”

*          *          *

            Chloe
walked unsteadily across the beach toward George.  The ground seemed to move
just a little, the way a boat might.  The beach was much the same as she
remembered it, ice curling strangely where the water lapped against the rocks, 
snowflakes falling silently, few and far between.  Even the way the gleaming
snow seemed to glow red then orange then yellow, mirroring the lights in the
sky.  Chloe realized that she wasn’t wearing a coat or shoes, yet she didn’t
feel cold.

            “It’s
nice here,” George said quietly, “nicer by far than what I’m used to.  I wish I
could stay.”

            “If
I’m imagining this, why can’t you?” Chloe asked, sitting down carefully on the
rock beside him, she seemed to sink into it.

            “Like
I said, you’ve a body, a beating heart, a working brain.  A living brain is
what makes it easy for you and impossible for me.  Dying is like uncorking a
pressurized flask.  You kind of stream out into the ether, nothing to hold you
together, but your memories, the experiences of the body.  I expect some poor
spirits dissipate to nothing.  Others, like me, can be trapped in a larger
space…like a building,” he explained.

            “What
about heaven?” she asked.

            “Oh,
I wouldn’t know about that.  I believe it’s there, somewhere.  There were
experiments you know, so we could learn about these things.  People died and
were brought back with electric current.  Some spoke about seeing light, loved
ones, others didn’t.  If science has taught us one thing, it’s that anything is
possible,” George nodded.

            “You
experimented with bringing people back from the dead?” Chloe gulped.

            “No. 
They did though--the bad ones.  It started long before I was born.  Murderers
mostly…gallows flesh…the bad ones took the bodies.  I suppose it started as
science.  The dissecting theater, the medical colleges…it started in these
places of learning.  There were theories…the idea that electricity was a life
fluid within the body, and then came galvanism.  They took electrical currents,
used it to stimulate the muscles of dead bodies, made them leap all over the
table, sit up, smile…breathe.  Even to set hearts stilled by the noose to
beating again.  In at least one case that I heard of, they brought a hanged man
back completely.  He was up and drinking again within seven hours from the time
they cut him from the scaffold.  That was in Ireland.”