Asylum (49 page)

            “But
he lived,” she continued.  “this is something I read about, an escaped mental
patient returned and shot Kirkbride in the head, but he lived.”

            “Oh
yes.  He LIVED,” George repeated.  “How many people do you know to be shot in
the head and survive with no complications whatsoever?”

            “It
was said that his hat stopped the bullet,” Chloe informed him.

            “His
hat…perhaps it was the fashion in those days to carve hats from stone, or
perhaps back then bullets were made of cloth,” George suggested.  “Or perhaps
they had already learned enough about the body by then to keep it going. 
Whatever the case, William’s act was enough to convince others that had been in
the asylum, and seen things they couldn’t explain, that something wasn’t
right.  This is when Abraham’s Men began. It has always been poorly organized. 
Understand that most asylums, most doctors and nurses, did operate with the
idea that they were helping…healing.  The bad ones mostly stayed behind the
scenes, away from where anyone could get at them.  They learned their lesson
from Kirkbride.”

            “So
if you couldn’t even fight them directly, how did you think you were going to
stop them?” Chloe wondered.

            “We
tried many different things,” George said.  “There were those who favored
direct action.  Attacking care givers and the like.”

            “Mental
patients trying to attack their doctors for being part of an evil conspiracy to
reanimate the dead…and how did that work out?,” Chloe smirked.

            “Exactly
as someone with hindsight would assume,” George snapped.  “We tried other
things.  We tried appealing to the public, based on humanitarian issues, we
tried the government route, lobbying to get rules in place that affected the
treatment of the insane.  We tried…more desperate measures…”

            “Burning
them down,” Chloe thought, not remembering her thoughts were audible in this
place.  George winced.

            “Burning
them down,” he agreed.  “But that was all long ago.  We can no longer stop them
by stopping their experiments, it’s a new sort of war we face.  We have find
them,  to confront them head on.”

            “You
keep saying ‘we’…” Chloe informed him.  “Are you planning on finding a body
yourself or…?”

            “There
are still others…Abraham’s Men still exist, I know that they do.  I have felt
them before, they’ve come close, and so…have others.”

            “The
dorm has other ghosts besides you?”

            “No. 
Not confined to the dorm.  The building is just one way to stay connected.  It
is a form.  A way I can limit myself, orient myself, but as I’m starting to
realize, a living body can also be a point of attachment.  Do you remember how
I said it was possible for a spirit to attach itself to a living body?  For a
soul to find another, one with the same addictions, the same flaws?  The bad
ones are on both sides of the border of life, and since you’ve come here, I’ve
felt one.  Not attached to you…no, but attached to someone close to you…and
it’s bad.  It has knowledge.  It thinks…it plots.  You need to get away.  You
need to leave here, and find the Men”

            “I
can’t…I’m in school…my friends are here…Seth-” Chloe stopped herself.  Almost
instantly she remembered Seth, standing against the wall with Sam’s arms
wrapped around his neck.  Sam and Seth kissing.  The ground shook underneath
her feet.

            “Focus!”
George charged her, gripping the bars of his cage with white knuckles.

            “How
would I even begin to find Abraham’s Men now?  There are hardly any Asylums
left, and if you’re right, they’ve probably moved on anyways.  Where would I
go?  Who would I look for?” she demanded.

            “Start
with the man you found at Traverse City.  He learned from someone.  He must
know something, and keep your eyes open.  There are always signs.  There are
always ways to find our own.  What we’re fighting is more than human.  Believe
this much.  Good and evil battle on every plane of existence there is.  If you
stand against what’s bad, trust that you will have help…from somewhere.  And
don’t linger here long when I’m gone.  You’re vulnerable here.  In this place,
you don’t need a body.  The bad ones will find out about you eventually, if
they haven’t already,” George cautioned.

            “You
keep saying that.  You keep saying they’ll find me.  Why me?  Why would they
even look for me? I’m not hurting them any!”

            “Because
I found you!  I could see you and I wasn’t even looking.  You are like a fire
in the dark, a light for a moth.  You are a threat.  You can see them, feel
them.  Have you never heard anyone say that the greatest feat the Devil
achieved was to convince the world he didn’t exist?”

            “Yes. 
Yes, I have. What’s going to happen to you now?  Is there some way we can free
you?  Something I can do?” she asked.

            “I
don’t know…what now?” George smiled.  “I think…I feel that when I leave here, I
might just go free.”

            “Free? 
Like disappear into the atmosphere…like dissolve?” Chloe thought nervously.

            “I
really don’t know,” George grinned even larger.  “I don’t, but I hope to find
out.  Maybe there will be a heaven.  Maybe I’ll find my Elizabeth there.  I
died trying to stop them, trying to make a difference, and I was stuck because
I couldn’t leave knowing I failed.  And now…I’ve handed it off.  I think that
makes me free.  I don’t need the building to hold me here any longer, my
purpose is served.  I think-”

            George
stopped and leaned forward, pressing his face against the bars of his cage.  He
was listening again.

            “Chloe?”
his thought barely a whisper.  “Do you feel something?”

            She
stopped, cocking her head to the side, listening as she had seen him do.  Did
she hear something?  The sound of the water barely lapping against the icy
rocks.  Looking up, the sky was unbearably bright.  The stars were growing
larger and brighter…and then they began to fall.  At first, very slowly, one
here or there, and then more and more, dropping away, streaking towards earth,
white spears across the sky.  It was raining stars.  A meteor shower…in her
head?  That’s when a thought hit her.

            “George?”
her words very quiet, “I’m not doing that.  I’m not making that happen, why is
it doing that?”

            “GO!”
he demanded.  “Get out!  Go back, quickly, now!”

            “How?”
she screamed.  The stars were hitting the water, hitting the inky cold water
and fizzing all around her…cannonballs…fiery cannonballs.  Hitting the beach. 
Chloe screamed and covered her head.

            “UP!”
he shouted.  “Up and out!  GO!!”

            And
then, the night sky ripped down the center, stars falling away on either side. 
A blinding white streak down the middle of the ceiling of her strange inner
world, yawning wider and wider.

            “Oh
God, please…” she cried.

            The
ground was shaking.  The beach was rocked by earthquake.  George’s cage melted
away.  Chloe had enough time to make eye contact with him, and he was torn
away…upwards, flying at an incredible speed.  He was a speck against the white
rip in the sky and then he was gone.

            “GEORGE!”
she screamed.

            Her
world was going to shake itself to pieces.  The stars were gone.  The blinding
light from above, made all else around her black.  There was no longer any
beach, no longer any lake or sky or trees.  She had to get out…had to follow
George.

            “Up!”
she willed herself.  “Go up, damnit!”

            But
there was no ground to orient herself to, no way to move.  She was back to
floating, bobbing aimlessly in the blackness around her.  And overhead…overhead
the crack had widened into a gaping expanse of light.  Squinting, she tried to
look into it, tried to understand it.  It was like seeing a picture through the
wrong end of a telescope.  A ceiling…a lamp…a person, it was a room of some
sort, one she didn’t recognize, but it had to be better than the dark, better
than alone and floating in the black nothing.

            Chloe
struggled, flailing her arms, trying to swim.

            “Up!”
she commanded herself again.

            And
then movement, upward movement.  She wouldn’t have been able to say for sure
except that the distant white room seemed to become larger.

            “UP!”
she screamed again.

            Faster
now, she could see more of the room, a wall of books…her own hands folded
across her stomach.  Desperately she reached towards it, just as she felt
something down by her ankles.  Something that slithered.  Something cold and
smooth, that wrapped round and round her calves and slid up her legs to dig in
like fingernails at her waist.  Her body jerked…downward.  She was being
dragged down again, back into the void, circled round and round by something
she couldn’t see or hear, something awful, something…evil.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

           
“By the
intercession of St. Michael and the celestial Choir of Dominions, may the Lord
give us grace to govern our senses and overcome any unruly passions. Amen,”
Father Andrew continued.  “Our Father, who art in heaven-”

            The
young man, Seth his name was, mumbled the well known words along with him.  He
watched the poor girl laid across the couch intently, waiting for a sign of
some sort that the prayer was working.  The other girl, Sam, sat with her eyes
closed and both hands pressed against her forehead.  She was sweating, and her
brow wrinkled in what Father Andrew thought was pain.  He paused before
beginning the Hail Mary and cleared his throat.

            “Do
you need a glass of water?” he asked.

            “No…
I…” the girl muttered between her fingers, “I…don’t know what’s wrong.  My
head’s killing me.  Can we take a break for a minute.  Aspirin, maybe?  Do you
have aspirin?

            “Just
wait a few minutes, Sam!” Seth said.  “Keep going Father, please.  She can wait
a little longer.”

            Father
Andrew watched Sam over the top of his book.  The girl was rubbing her temples
in rough circles and squinting at the floor.

            “Do
you need me to stop?” he asked.

            Sam
glared at Seth and then shook her head ‘no’ miserably.  Father Andrew cleared
his throat again.

            “Hail
Mary, full of grace.  Our Lord is with thee.  Blessed art thou among women, and
blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.  Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us
sinners now and at the hour of our death. Amen.  Hail Mary, full of grace. 
Blessed art thou among women and blessed is-”

            “STOP!”
Sam screeched, doubling over and clutching her head.  “Stop it!  Every word you
say feels like a damn nail being pounded into my head!  Just stop!”

            Father
Andrew paused uncertainly.

            “Sam!”
Seth said, a warning in his voice.

            “Oh,
I don’t care what you think!” Sam raged.  “Do your stupid little exorcism or
whatever the hell it is, I don’t have to be here for this.  I can’t take it. 
I’ll wait in the car!”

            Sam
flung Chloe’s feet off her lap and stood.  Almost as quickly, she collapsed on
the floor, grabbing her head and moaning.  Father Andrew dropped his book and
tried to help her up.

            “Father!”
Seth yelled.

            . 
Seth was crouched down next to Chloe, holding her arms apart.  She seemed to be
straining forward, her fingers curved into claws, her eyes wide and terrified. 
Her lips moved, but no words came from her, and she seemed to struggle and
fight against Seth’s grip.  As the priest watched, she kicked her legs and
twisted to the left and to the right, almost flopping off the couch.  Still
holding tightly to her wrists, Seth used his body to pin her flailing torso to
the couch.

            “Leave
Sam there, something’s happening, you have to keep praying,” Seth demanded.

            “This
is not an exorcism,” Father Andrew protested, but his voice was unsteady. 

            Sam’s
body snapped backwards, her head hit the carpet, and her back arched.  She
opened her mouth as though to scream.  Father Andrew got up and stumbled
backwards.  This was crazy.  It had to be a joke, like the old hidden camera
show.  Both girls twisted and flailed, almost in unison.  Unbidden, an image
came to his mind.  A play, a play about the Salem witch trials, school girls
writhing on the floor in imaginary pain, crying out, hellish play-acting.