The Cursed Man (2 page)

Moments later, Bonnie reentered the room with a short, thin man in tow. He wore Coke-bottle glasses, which made his eyes look big, and he had a few random strands of hair on top of an otherwise bald head. He approached Anna with an extended hand and bright smile. “Hello, Dr. Lee. I'm Director Conroy.”

He had a voice like a mouse, which matched his looks perfectly.

Anna stood, took the director's hand and pumped it up and down twice. His handshake was firm, and she matched it.

“Thank you for seeing me. It seems there is some confusion. I am here to see Alister Kunkle, and for some reason, I'm being met with resistance.”

“Mr. Kunkle. Of course. You know, he is a man with quite a history.” The director pulled his hand away and wiped it against his pant leg. “But before we get into that, I would like to change your impression of this facility and start over again. Welcome to Sunnyside.” He handed Anna her identification tag.

“Thank you,” she said, and she forced a smile. The director barely made eye contact.

“I would like to apologize for Bonnie's insistence that Mr. Kunkle not get any visitors. She was acting on a firm, long-standing directive from me.” He clasped his hands together behind his back.

“She was hardly a bother.” Anna reattached her identification tag and picked up her briefcase. “But I insist I complete the job I was sent here to do. Dr. Miles Griffen himself assigned me to this patient, and I would like to see him immediately.”

The director shifted, peered over the thick rim of his glasses, drew close to Anna and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Before you do that, there is something I'd like to talk to you about. How about we go to my office, where we can have some privacy?”

“I don't think…” The aura of secrecy that surrounded the director and the unquestioned obedience of his secretary had an element of intrigue. “Sure, after you.”

She followed the director through a narrow hallway and into a large, well-lit office. A row of tall filing cabinets in the corner of the room were like obedient soldiers standing guard. White walls and a natural wooden floor gave the room a clean feel. A large Bombay desk in the middle of the room was perfectly centered on a plush, hand woven rug. A golden nameplate with his job title occupied the otherwise empty desktop, and plaques of educational accomplishments hung on the wall. A small oscillating fan positioned atop an upside down garbage can worked the room quietly, circulating the smell of fresh paint.

The director sat at his desk, and he looked lost behind its size. Anna sat in an uncomfortably deep upholstered armchair before him and turned askew. She adjusted her skirt to make sure she was covered and crossed her legs.

“The architecture here is stunning,” Anna said.

The director scanned his office. “It makes quite an impression, I know.” He pursed his lips. “This facility is totally self-sufficient. Dining, a workshop, a chapel, a heating plant, a library, cisterns, a morgue and a cemetery are all on site.”

 Anna raised a brow. “The overhead must be tremendous.”

The director smiled. “The meaning behind that statement isn't lost on me, Dr. Lee. You need not threaten me with funding. You will get the cooperation you seek.”

Anna showed her agreement with a subtle nod.

“But first I would like to know if you've been given the history on Mr. Kunkle.”

Anna smiled. “I assure you I've done my homework.” She patted her briefcase. “Hours upon hours worth. Not to sound premature, but I'm certain he's plagued by severe delusions. It is my opinion that if I were to present him with small doses of the truth, he may respond.”

“I appreciate your enthusiasm, doctor, but if it were that simple to diagnose what troubles him, I wouldn't have to forbid him from having guests.”

“Forbid?” Anna slid to the edge of the seat. “How do you forbid a mental patient from having visits from doctors?”

The director removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Without the magnification, they were actually small and beady. “When I asked you if you had done your homework, I was specifically asking you about your knowledge surrounding the history of Mr. Kunkle. Do you know what secrets it hides?”

“With all due respect, director, I would like an explanation of what you said to me. What do you mean you forbade him from having guests?”

He scoffed.

Arrogant prick. “Is there a problem?” Anna said.

“Problem? No. Maybe a misunderstanding is all.” He breathed on his glasses and polished them with a tissue. “My forbidding was put in place for the safety of my people and any unsuspecting guest that might believe his disease is treatable.”

“I'm curious to know. Is he violent or dangerous?”

The director put on his glasses.  “No, he's not violent.  In fact, the man is as passive and gentle as a young child.  But dangerous…” He interlaced his fingers behind his head and leaned back. “There are ways for someone to be a danger to others by the company they keep.”

“You're contradicting yourself. How can he keep dangerous company if he isn't allowed visitors?”

“That is a very insightful question, doctor, but if you knew of his past, everything I've said would make perfect sense.”

The director stared at Anna and she stared back.

“You should know that this arrangement was something Mr. Kunkle requested because he identified the need,” the director said. “And it is something the board of directors and myself were happy to conform to. To this day it has proved the only effective action against the thing that plagues him.”

“I don't believe what I'm hearing,” Anna said. “He's being treated as if he were some sort of alien with an unknown disease.”

The director rested his forearms on the desktop and leaned forward. “I suggest you listen closely and consider everything I'm going to tell you because it could save your life.”

Anna sat back and immersed herself in a moment of silence. “For the record, I am appalled by the treatment this patient has received.”

“He is cared for.”

“I will be including this in the report due by the end of my visit, and the duration of my stay depends upon my findings.”

“For the record, Dr. Lee, your report will be ignored by your superiors. They will be destroyed and false documents will be filed in their place.”

Anna removed her cell phone from her pocket and placed it on the edge of his desk. “Perhaps we should test that theory, being it's for the record.”

The director sat back. “No, that won't be necessary.”

She put her phone away. “When was the last time Alister had any human interaction?”

The director pressed his fingertips together. “Many years.”

“Years?”

“Years.” His face glowed with satisfaction. “And it has kept people alive.”

“You're telling me no one has spoken to him in several years?”

“That is exactly what I'm saying.” He turned in his chair and looked at the diplomas hanging on the wall. “You know, I met a young doctor very much like yourself some years back. He was full of energy and looking to make a difference. I remember him sitting across from me just like you are today. He had that same hungry look as you do. He was listening to the story I'm about to tell you. And I was reluctant to give him any details, as I am with you, because I feared the words I said would be ignored. Of course, he dismissed what I said with a laugh and demanded to see Mr. Kunkle. I thought he was foolish for thinking my story was a work of fiction, and I could tell he thought I was as nutty as the patients I cared for.”

Anna groaned.

“I'm sorry if my being blunt offends you, but everything I'm telling you and trying to protect you from is the truth,” the director said. “An impossible truth that is true.”

“I don't need protecting.”

“No, and neither did he. I allowed this doctor to see Mr. Kunkle without another word of protest or caution. The next day he didn't show up for work.” He shook his head. “I knew something bad had happened to him, and I knew it was because he had ignored my warning and went ahead and met with Mr. Kunkle.”

Anna rolled her eyes. “This is ridiculous!”

“You can be smug if you want to be, doctor, but the man was found dead. He'd been sitting at the table inside his home eating dinner and ended up facedown in his plate of food. It is said that he died of fright.”

Anna reared. “Fright? What nonsense.”

The director threw his hands up. “You don't know what you're getting yourself into.”

“Then why don't you give me something tangible rather than campfire tales with no substance? I want to understand why you feel it is your job to give Alister less than what he deserves.”

“I can assure you Alister is cared for,” the director said. “The attention he is given is special. Yes, we are limited in what we can do for him because anyone that interacts with him meets a rather swift and unfortunate end.”

Anna pictured the director pulling his educational certificates out of a crackerjack box. “This doctor you say died from fright probably had a heart attack. People die from heart attacks every day.”

“That man spent his day with Alister and was warned about what might happen to him.”

“Like me?”

“Just like you. And it happened.”

“Oh, I understand now. Why don't we lock him up and throw away the key? Certainly this man is beyond help.”

“If there were only one instance of this, I could agree with what you're saying. But more than a hundred instances have occurred in which Mr. Kunkle has had direct contact with people right before they die. And to make matters worse, they die only hours after their interaction him.”

The director rummaged through his desk and pulled out a baby wipe. He scrubbed his hands.

“Look,” the director said, “the series of tragedies that has surrounded Mr. Kunkle is something that deserves attention, caution and action that may not be popular with everyone. I understand and accept that. But the people that died were from different walks of life. They ranged from infants to the elderly, from civilians to police officers. Whatever evil surrounds Mr. Kunkle is angry and jealous and is indisposed to compromise or mercy.”

Anna could barely keep a straight face. “Well, director, that's quite the story you've told me. I'm sorry to say this sounds like the fine premise of a Hollywood movie and not the tragic life of a living, breathing human being. I've only met two people that work here so far, and there seems to be a rooted belief in this nonsense. I'd be lying if I didn't tell you it concerns me.”

The director furrowed his brow. “I'm going to give you a little advice that may save your life, doctor. Go back to your hotel room, write a dummy report on your findings with Mr. Kunkle and the extraordinary care he is being given here at Sunnyside and take a few weeks off.”

“I can't believe what I'm hearing.”

“I'll vouch for your passionate work ethics and the spectacular care you gave your patient. You file your report and go on to your next patient knowing the decision you made saved your life.”

“What you're telling me to do is not only against the law but also against my moral standings. I would also like to remind you that everything we discuss is going to be in my report.”

“And I've already told you that I'm not worried about your report. No matter what you write, it will end up saying what they need it to say. Is it worth risking your life for that?”

“I somehow doubt what you say to be the truth.”

The director opened the lowest file drawer with a key he kept in his pocket and removed a thick book with a cracked cover and bent spine. Ripped, yellowed pages hung out of the binding. He dropped it on the desktop and slid it toward Anna.

“What's this?” The musty stench of the pages filled her nostrils.

The director raised an intriguing brow. “That is my last chance to get through to you.”

Anna glanced at the book. “This is absurd.”

“Can't you put your skepticism to the side even for a moment?” The director allowed the question to hang in the air. “That book holds bits and pieces of Alister's unabridged history. It won't hurt you to have a look. Go ahead—amuse me.”

Anna pulled the book close with a sigh and looked inside its cover. The pages were stiff to the touch, and several black and white photos sat freely inside the cover. She flipped through them. One photo after another showed the inside of a filthy house. Piles of garbage were stacked as high as three feet and narrow paths were routed through them. Bugs covered discarded things and maggots were in abundance. She flipped the picture over and “Kunkle/Living Room” was written with a ballpoint pen.

The next item was a letter addressed to anyone that would heed a warning. The handwritten letters were jagged and scribbled down in haste. The words spoke of death and suffering and the need to be left alone. Alister's signature finalized the correspondence.

She turned the page and a newspaper clipping fell out. She read the story of Alister's wife drowning their daughter before killing herself.

The next page consisted of several small articles that told of fallen police officers and dead civilians. All the causes of death, according to the articles' headings, were mysterious in nature but had one thing in common: Alister.  They called him a cursed man.

Anna turned another page and found a neatly folded and pressed brown paper bag stuffed between two pages. She removed the bag and opened it. Written in large black letters were the poorly scribbled words, “I'll only talk to you.”

“Okay, I've seen enough,” Anna said, and she folded the bag. She dropped it between the pages she had pulled it from. “I won't tell you what I'm thinking because I am a professional and a lady. I want to see the patient and I want to see him now.” Anna stood. “I expect all necessary resources will be in place and at my disposal without delay.”