Friend

to

None

S. A. Bourne

Friend to None

Copyright © 2020 Aaron Osborne

All rights reserved. No part of this may be reproduced, scanned, or transmitted in any form, digital, audio or printed, without the express written consent of the author.

This is a work of fiction. Characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictional manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

“A friend to all is a friend to none”

Aristotle

Table of Contents

Introduction

Chapter – One

Chapter – Two

Chapter – Three

Chapter – Four

Chapter – Five

Chapter– Six

Chapter – Seven

Chapter – Eight

Chapter – Nine

Chapter – Ten

Chapter – Eleven

Chapter – Twelve

Chapter – Thirteen

Chapter – Fourteen

Chapter – Fifteen

Chapter – Sixteen

Chapter – Seventeen

Chapter – Eighteen

Chapter – Nineteen

Chapter – Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter – Twenty-Two

Chapter – Twenty-Three

Conclusion

Introduction

     The story I am about to tell you is true. Forty-two years have passed since the horrific events which occurred that cold winter’s night within the walls of Docket’s Lunatic Asylum.

     Never before have I spoke of them. After today, I will never speak of them again. I only do this now because I feel I must.

    I am fully aware that my time on this earth is limited. Today, I am eighty-eight years of age and have fought these demons far too long. Will it bring to me closure? Probably not. However, I must try to lift at least a portion of this heavy and haunting burden from my shoulders.

Chapter - One

     The small community of Linzefield, Virginia above which the hospital stood, towering high atop “The Ridge,” was rocked, shocked, by the events which took place on that stormy winter’s night - unnerving, unexplainable, unfathomable.

     “The Ridge” is what locals referenced when speaking of Docket’s Lunatic Asylum. Erected in 1860, the facility stands to this day as a looming figure watching and awaiting its next admission.

     The hands of the clock towered predominantly above the asylum’s main entrance gave visual notice, an eerie warning, to the townspeople that each moment past may one day signal their own arrival into an existence, undiscovered.

     The mentioning of those two words, The Ridge, has forever sent an icy chill of fear relentlessly coursing down the spines of both children and adults alike.

     It was an effective way to gain the attention and discipline of an unruly child - “If you don’t stop, I’m going to take you to The Ridge. Imaginations were often compelled to run wild, concocting what madness might take place upon that dreadful mountain top.

     January 17, 1978, marks the date in which those empty threats and childhood nightmares became a hellish, personal, and mind-bending reality; a reality far beyond what I could have ever dreamt.

     I will attempt to convey to you the horrors of that night as best as human vocabulary is capable.  Words alone can only express to one an ideal as to the horrors witnessed, felt, and experienced.

     Despite the many years which have now passed, the events which took place on that night remain deeply embedded within my mind’s eye. I pray that no one, and I mean no one, will ever have to endure what I endured.

     You may elect not to believe what I am about to tell you as truth. Your decision to do so is unquestionably understandable. No sane person would ever like to consider the following events I am to relay as reality.

     I tell you my story not because I wish to relive the events which took place that night on The Ridge. Only God Himself knows the countless years I have spent suppressing these thoughts in an effort to forever distance them from my awareness - futile attempts.

     No, I tell you my story on behalf of those who cannot. I tell you my story for those who have lost their sanity and, at times, their lives in such incongruous and unfathomable ways - praying for life - praying for death. I am their voice now.

I must share this story for them.

I must share this story for you.

I must share this story for me.

Chapter – Two

     “I need some help down here! Someone call a code!” Sue, a seasoned nurse of seventeen years, previously retired yet returned to work on an “as needed” basis, desperately called from the female’s hallway.

     A quick reacting nurse working the desk promptly snatched the telephone from its cradle and made an announcement which loudly sounded throughout the facility’s intercom system.

“Code alert, Ward Two!”

“Code alert, Ward Two!”

     Both Sue and the patient in crisis were wrestling on the cold and unforgiving concrete floor of the hallway. A floor, though glistening with the sheen of freshly layered wax, endlessly whispering dark tales of countless individuals who feverishly paced the ward fighting to gain control of inner demons beckoning, boldly commanding, the breaking of not only the last thread of sanity to which they clung but an often welcomed ending of their very lives; once meaningful lives, violently torn from their grasp by way of mental illness.

     “She has my hair.” Sue evenly informed as staff reached her side.

     Upon my arrival, I promptly grabbed the frenzied patient’s hand with one of my own, the back of Sue’s head with my other. Pressing the patient’s hand tightly against Sue’s head prohibited the patient from ripping Sue’s hair from her scalp.

     “Please, Vicky, let go.” I implored.

     “No!” Vicky screamed. “I have to get out of here! We all have to get out of here! They’re coming for us! They’re coming for all of us!”

     “Vicky, let go of her hair.” Cody, an evenly spoken Licensed Practical Nurse (LPN) and proud father of three, pleaded upon his arrival as he tightly took hold of Vicky’s free and flailing arm, all the while avoiding her attempts to dig her panic-stricken fingernails into his flesh.

     “She won’t unlock the door! I have to get out of here! They are going to kill me! They’re going to kill us all if we don’t get out of here!” Vicky tearfully and furiously contested.

     “Someone get the chair, please.” I instructed as Vicky’s agitation continually increased.

     She began to kick violently at staff forcing us all into a whirling spiral, creating a vortex of bodies spinning wildly atop the merciless floor. We collectively, frantically, and methodically struggled to gain control of the situation.

     Laura, a young and vibrant Certified Nursing Assistant (CNA), spun on her toes and quickly departed for the Emergency Restraint Chair, or ERC as it is more commonly referred. “I’ll get it.” She announced while speeding from the somatic whirlpool.

     “Get off of me! They’re coming and they’re going to kill all of us! We have to leave, now!”

     Vicky is what we refer to as a “frequent flyer” to Docket’s Lunatic Asylum. At only twenty-six years of age, this was her nineteenth admission to our facility. With a diagnosis of Bipolar I Disorder with psychotic features, coupled with an extensive substance abuse history, Vicky’s life was a continuous cycle of manic psychosis…admission to Docket’s Lunatic Asylum…stabilization after approximately two-to-four weeks…discharge from our facility…cessation of medication compliance…relapse into substance abuse…manic psychosis…admission to Docket’s Lunatic Asylum…stabilization after approximately two-to-four weeks…discharge…and so on.

     It has forever saddened me to give witness to such promising young men and women who have been unwillingly imprisoned and controlled by their mental illness.

     One could easily and callously scorn those suffering and ceaselessly tormented by their own psyche - “Stop acting like that. Just take your meds.” However, those who think as such have little insight into the reasoning, onset, and consequent symptoms of psychiatric illnesses; be it a lack of compassion or lack of knowledge and understanding.

     It is not easy to simply “stop”, when everything within you is telling you to “go”. It would be comparable to holding back a torrent of rushing water by standing in its path with an outstretched palm signaling STOP, as would a traffic cop orchestrating movement through a busy intersection.

     “The ERC is right behind you, Craig.” Laura alerted to me upon her return.

     “Okay, everyone ready?” I asked with a circling glance.

     Acknowledgment was received via head nods and breathless replies – “Ready.”

     “Okay, on one…two…three!”

     Upon reaching the number “three,” we simultaneously stood to our feet as trained and performed countless times before. Our well-rehearsed and synchronized movement jointly released us from the swirling motion in which we were flowing. Vicky was lifted from the floor and deposited into the hardened and uncompassionate seat of the ERC. It was at this time security staff began to arrive on the ward, increasing our number to six.

     As we continued our orchestrated protocol of securing a combative patient into the ERC, I maintained my press of Vicky’s hand against Sue’s head. Sue was only able to move as we did, keeping her hands atop mine while calmly and repetitively pleading with Vicky, “Please, let go.”

     “Lap belt ready.” One of the security officers alerted after tightening it across Vicky’s lap by Laura.

     The leather straps of the ERC - lap, ankles, shoulders - were quickly tightened and secured, save the vacant right wrist strap awaiting the hand of which held tightly a bundle of Sue’s graying hair.

     Vicky’s screams grew louder and more anxious. “Stop! They’re going to kill me! Please, stop!”

     She then released a scream that seemed to have been desperately contained and patiently lying in wait. A scream eagerly awaiting permission to emerge, to erupt, with the force of a volcano having reached its breaking point, no longer able to contain the volume and pressure of molten lava boiling deep beneath the Earth’s crust.

     As the exploding sounds of anguish erupted, her white-knuckled grip clinging to Sue’s hair loosened just long enough for us to take advantage of her brief diversion. With a quick pull of the strap, the once freed and remaining appendage was tightly secured to the steel frame of the chair.

     As the tan-faded and worn strap tightened, Vicky began to violently rock forward and backward, slamming the back of her head against the high-backed chair. Laura quickly retrieved a pillow from a nearby patient room and placed it behind Vicky’s head providing added cushion between the thin layer of padding of the chair and the jaw clenching thuds of Vicky’s skull.

     Though only having been employed for six months, Laura had already proved herself to be a forward-thinker and one to take self-initiative. She was a valuable asset to our team. I daily prayed she would stay.

     With Vicky now secure in the chair, Cody promptly and instinctively headed for the medication room to draw up an injection. As an LPN, Cody’s primary assignment was medication administration. With thirteen years of employment at Dockets under his belt, he had become very proficient and knowledgeable in his role.

     By the time we had wheeled the chair from the hallway to the seclusion room, Cody arrived with a B52 - A combination of three medications within two separate syringes. The ‘B’ refers to Benadryl while the “5” indicates five milligrams of Haldol, and the “2” meaning two milligrams of Ativan. This combination is historically effective when administered to an aggressive, psychotic, and manic patient.

     With medication administered into her right arm, Vicky continued to scream and curse as we closed the door of the restraint room in an effort to reduce disruption of other patients on the ward.

     Within the asylum environment, one agitated patient can create a snowball effect among others. What begins as one behavioral crisis has the potential to flow throughout the ward and initiate panic, anxiety, and aggression in others who may be standing on the threshold of psychosis.

     “Is everyone alright?” I questioned.

     “I think we’re all good, boss.” Cody replied.

     “Sue?” I further probed.

     “Yeah, I’m okay. If she hadn’t of pulled my hair out, I would’ve sooner or later anyway.” A shared chuckle cued to all it was time to resume tasks abandoned upon the calling of the code.

     It is imperative for any effective employee at Docket’s Lunatic Asylum to perfect the art of “shutting off” emotions and adrenaline quickly. Daily is the skill required to be able to be at one instant, speaking calmly and reassuringly to a patient who is tearful and missing their family and then suddenly be involved in a behavioral code with an aggressive patient attempting to harm themselves or others.

     One must have the ability to change their approach, tactic, and tone of voice in a moment’s notice. Few can master this emotion-reigning craft.

     Employee turnaround at Dockets has always been high. Many have accepted employment with genuine and heartfelt intentions but quickly discovered the psychological demand to be too much. Those unable to maintain and process their emotions efficiently soon found their relationships at the foot of The Ridge to be overly strained with stress and turbulence.

     “Time?” I questioned toward no one in particular.

     “Twenty-two, twenty-one.” Sue answered.

     Sue was provided a chair by one of the other CNA’s, Anthony, in which to sit as she monitored Vicky’s status.

    Facility policy states that when a person is either secluded or restrained a staff member must “provide constant monitoring” for safety and eventual meeting of release criteria – calm, cooperative, and able to redirect from harming behaviors.

     Sue ran her fingertips through her hair picking out loosened strands as she leaned into the back of her seat.

     “I’ll have Brianna start the paperwork and get it to you.” I informed Sue.

     Brianna was one of our Registered Nurses (RN) of four years. Although employed at Dockets for a relatively short period of time, she arrived with an extensive and impressive psychiatric nursing background. Having moved to the area from Florida, her purposely chosen area of residence was located near the asylum.

     After relaying instruction to Brianna regarding the needed documentation, Laura greeted me with the telephone receiver. “Here Craig, they want to speak to the Head Nurse.”

      Surrounding staff pressed closer to listen to the one-sided conversation. “Mm-Hmm, okay, I’ll let everyone know.”

     “What’s the news, boss?” Cody enquired.

     “Looks like it’s going to be a long night.” I announced. “The house office has informed me that everyone will have to stay. This blizzard has the roads clogged with traffic. Night shift staff can’t get here.”

     “Well, I guess I better go see what meds I need to get set up for the next pass.” Cody stated as he walked toward the medication room.

     “You’re telling me no one from third shift can make it in?” With distain, Trevor announced his displeasure of the news that we were all being mandated to work until the storm passed and the roads were cleared.

     “That’s the word I’m getting, Trevor.” I countered.

     “Well, that sucks!” He replied with disgust.

     Trevor was a large man, towering at six-foot-four-inches. He had been employed at the hospital as a CNA for nearly six years. During those six years he had missed less than one week of work. Though reliable and always completing tasks required throughout the shift, he was never one to be accused of going above and beyond the call of duty. His location on the ward was never difficult to pinpoint. As he walked, the loosely laced heels of his shoes tapped the floor with each step taken.

     The clomping sound softened as he returned to the hallway on which he was previously performing rounds – fifteen-minute visual check as to document where a patient is located and what said patient is physically doing at that time.

     Within a psychiatric facility, changes in behavior can occur rapidly and without forewarning. During one hall round a patient may be sitting calmly and quietly in a chair, fifteen minutes later, that same patient may be tearful, attempting to harm themselves with an acquired object, beating their head against the cinder block wall, experiencing auditory and/or visual hallucinations, or talking to themselves in panic and distress. Some may seize the opportunity of aloneness to take their own lives.

     Patient location may change rapidly as well. Often, we would admit patients who were never satisfied with their assigned room. They could often be found lying in another patient’s bed or in a vacant room. For some, it was a conscious decision, for others, they simply became confused as to which room was theirs. Therefore, the closest room was claimed.

     “Anthony.” I summoned.

     “Yes.”

     “Clear the code and then make sure Sue knows that we all have to stay tonight. Go ahead and relieve her for a few minutes while you’re there. I’m sure she would appreciate a break right about now.”

     As was required, once a behavioral crisis was under control, the code was then announced as “all clear” over the facilities intercom system. Anthony removed the telephone from its cradle and announced:

“Code alert, Ward Two, all clear.”

“Code alert, Ward Two, all clear.”

Chapter – Three

     “Let us know if you need anything.” One of the departing security officers stated as he made his way toward the ward entrance doors.

     “Sure will, thanks guys.” I replied.

     The jingling of keys bounced off the walls of the ward as the others followed.

     “Okay, where was I?” My eyes silently scanned the desktop before me. “Oh yeah, back to finishing up the paperwork on this new admission.” I audibly reminded myself.

     “Be careful with that one, boss.” Cody responded before making a whistling sound and circling his right ear with his index finger. “He’s out there.”

     I couldn’t help but chuckle.

     “He’s blind, too.” Brianna added from behind as she searched for the patient restraint monitoring paperwork.

     “Really?” I questioned. “In that case, we will need to assign someone to be with him at all times. The last thing we need is to have a blind patient tripping over something and getting hurt.”

     Returning my attention to the admission paperwork strewn before me, a wave of nausea coursed through my body. Closing my eyes tightly, I could feel what I can only describe as a deeply rooted vibration – visceral.

     Grasping tightly the arms of the chair in which I was sitting, it felt as if I was experiencing an internal earthquake of movement.

     The lights on the ward flickered creating a strobe effect throughout. The fluctuation of electricity initiated the release of the magnetic hold of the fire doors located at the entrance of both male and female hallways.

     As the doors autonomously began to close, I heard Anthony produce a blood-curdling scream, “No! No! Stop! Somebody, please, help me!”

     Subtly shaken from the torrent of somatic tremors, I fought to open my eyes and respond to his pleas for help.      

     Straining to break free from the acute and paralyzing onset of internal shuddering, I struggled to move my eyes and look across the nurse’s station. Others, staff, and patients alike, seemed to also be experiencing the same as I.

     Everyone appeared to be frozen in some sort of electrically induced trance. One of the female patients sitting rigid and wide-eyed in the common area began to projectile vomit as the day’s meals spewed from her mouth onto her clothing and puddle on the floor.

     “Please. No! God, No! Help!” It was Anthony. His cries for help were like none I had ever heard before; none I wish to never hear again.

     They were likened to a mother crying out in anguish as her child dies in her arms. Or that of a man pleading for his family’s lives as they stand before a firing squad. There was an overpowering tone of fear and confusion within his voice.

     I gazed through squinting, blurring, and quivering eyes - unable to move. It seemed as if an invisible force heavily pressed me to my chair. The skin tightened on my face. Others within view were standing and staring forward as if to look through something, not at.

     “Anthony!” For a moment and with much effort I was able to break through the weighty shroud of internal unrest and respond toward the direction of his pleas. “I – I’m coming!” My voice grunted.

     “I have to get up.” I thought. I couldn’t. Whatever was happening to me and those around me presented as much stronger than human will. It surpassed physical capabilities as we remained carnally locked within its unfamiliar grip.

     “Get away from me!” Anthony’s screams faded to silence.

     “Hold on Anthony! We’re coming!” My words pressed hard within my mouth. No sound passed my lips.

     There was a sudden and violent THUD against one of the now closed doors of the male’s hallway from which Anthony’s cries once came. The force swung the door partially open. As it began to close, it was halted nearly halfway prior.

     As if timely arranged, I was released from the confining vibration which held me prisoner to what seemed to be another’s will. Not just I but all those around me communally and instantly regained freedom from their own prisons as well.

     Having reclaimed self-rule of our bodies, Brianna instinctively picked up the telephone.

“Code alert, Ward Two!”

“Code alert, Ward Two!”

     Cody was the first person at the doorway as the medication room was located opposite of the door leading into the male’s hallway.

     “Call a code blue!” He demanded. “Anthony? Anthony!”

     I will never forget the image as I pushed through the fire door - Anthony. He lay belly down, head twisted one-hundred-eighty degrees, face positioned toward the ceiling tile, eyes fixed and hollow. His mouth was contorted as if he had been flash-frozen in mid-scream.

     For a moment, the growing crowd surrounding Anthony stood unmoving, consumed with silent shock.

     “Who did this?!?” Cody directed his angered shouts toward the nearby patients. “Which one of you did this?!?”

     The hallway was not unexpectedly empty at this time of night. The few patients who were not sitting in the common area had already returned to their rooms and fallen asleep. However, patients were exiting their rooms in bewilderment, joining us in shock at the sight of Anthony and as to what had happened.

     “Anthony!?!” Cody redirected his attention to the contorted figure at our feet.

     Cody’s voice rattled me from my motionless state. The ward began to fill with staff from throughout the facility responding to the announced code. All who arrived had a familiar reaction – jaws dropped; eyes widened - briefly frozen in a state of disbelief of the twisted form laying on the floor.

     Brianna knelt beside Anthony and placed her fingers on his neck feeling for a pulse – absent.

     “Stabilize his head.” Doctor Whitt, now on the ward, ordered. “Call an ambulance.”

     “Can they even get to us?” I questioned.

     “You’re right, Craig. This blizzard has everyone locked down.” Doctor Whitt paused for a moment of brief and calculating thought amid the chaos surrounding her.

     Doctor Whitt was our Medical Doctor on Call for the weekend. She stood a meager five-foot-two-inches tall but commanded attention on a much larger scale. She came well respected by her colleagues and was a much-appreciated ally to nursing staff. “We’re on our own tonight.” She calmly stated.

     Without instruction, Brianna fastened a blood pressure cuff to Anthony’s arm in a futile attempt to find some sign of hope, some sign of life.  She gravely announced her expected finding. A finding she knew to be inevitable. “There’s no reading. I – I…he’s dead.” Her body trembled as she began to sob.

     “Get a stretcher and move him to the infirmary. Be careful with him.” Doctor Whitt instructed as she turned her attention toward me. “Craig, what happened?”

     “I don’t know.” I replied. “But I’m going to find out.”

Chapter – Four

     “Did you feel that, boss?” Cody approached as I ended a phone conversation with the house office - attempting to explain what we had witnessed.

     “I did, Cody. Are you alright?” I purposefully veered from being pulled toward more questioning of something I could not explain.

     “It was weird.” Cody continued. “I was trying to move but couldn’t. I heard Anthony screaming just outside of the med room door but, I couldn’t move.” His words fell unsteady and quivered as his mind focused upon his inability to assist Anthony as he pleaded for help. “I – I just couldn’t. I couldn’t move, boss.”

     “We all experienced the same thing, Cody.” I attempted to comfort the visibly shaken man before me. “I don’t know what happened but whatever it was, it happened to all of us. There wasn’t anything any of us could have done.”

     “Did you see his face?” He questioned as his chin began to tremble. “He looked terrified, like he saw a ghost or something.”

     “I did.” Cody’s words reframed the picture of Anthony’s face, hanging it back on the wall of my mind.

     “Have you spoken with all of the patients on that hall?” I asked.

     “They all say they were asleep until they heard someone screaming. There was no one on that hall when I went to the med room.” Cody’s face relaxed as his words returned to a more controlled quality.

     “Well, someone was out of bed. Someone did it.” My voice emitted frustration. “What about Jesse? Did you talk to him? Of all the patients on that hall he is the strongest of them.”

    “I talked to him, security too. He denied anything to do with it.” Cody assured of his thorough investigation.

     “I’m sure he did. Keep a close eye on him, Cody.” I turned to face him in an effort to ensure he perceived the seriousness escaping my eyes. “Someone who has spent the last eight years in prison is more than capable of doing something like this. I don’t trust him.” I added.

     “I’ll spread the word, boss.” Cody nodded with confirmation. “If he did it once I…I’m just going to leave that there.”

     My lips tightened, accompanied by a nod of the head in understanding. “Security is running another background check on him as we speak. They’re going to make sure we didn’t miss anything on him. I’d like to know everything about his past.”

     “Laura, I need you to begin constant monitoring on David ASAP.” I rerouted the passing CNA as she walked past the nurse’s station. She had just finished cleaning up the vomit from the common area and assisting the shaken patient to her bed.

     “Okay.” She paused in question. “Who is David?”

     “The admission we received earlier today.” I raised the still neglected stack of admission papers from the counter. “He is blind, so we will need to assist him quite a bit. He’s in room…” My eyes searched for the room number – top right corner. “…one-sixteen.”

     “Got it.” Laura made a U-turn from her previous heading. “Is someone going to bring me the form?”

     “I’ll send Trevor down with it in a few minutes.” I assured.

Chapter – Five

     “She should be here soon. She’s taking me to the store this morning.”

     “Okay, let’s wait for her in your room.” Trevor encouraged while lightly placing his hands on Peggy’s shoulders and turning her toward the direction of her room.

     “That’s fine, dear.” Peggy agreed. “I need to finish the dishes anyway.”

     Peggy was one of three residing dementia patients. She was a sweet little lady. Her long grey hair always and neatly pulled back in a ponytail. She forever donned a flowered pattern sundress with two front pockets, one slightly torn at the seam. Her gentle, selfless, and kind demeanor had the ability to draw one’s mind toward thoughts of their own grandmother. Unfortunately, Peggy’s mind had returned to, and was entombed in, the year 1944.

     Her days on the ward consisted of patiently awaiting the arrival of her sister, Alice, so the two of them could travel to the grocery store. She consistently spoke of the items they were to purchase: flour, sugar, rice, and cornmeal.

     She frequently spoke of her husband, Roy, who would be returning from the war soon. She remained consumed with the needed task of having supper prepared for his arrival. “He loves my cornbread.” She would tell. “He always talks about it in his letters.”

     It was difficult to feel too bad for Peggy. The place in which she had been involuntarily paused in time was at least a place of hope. Awaiting the arrival of Alice - long since passed away; anticipating the return of her husband from the war – killed in action; completing house chores she often stated she loved to do and humming the same song throughout the day – Swinging on a Star by Bing Crosby.

I pray time would be as kind to me as well.

     The humming faded as her and Trevor turned and entered Peggy’s bedroom doorway.

     As my mind continued to piece together the afore events, the lights on the ward flickered, tying my stomach into a knot. The fire doors released from their magnetic holds and began to slowly close. As before, an inner vibration set into motion from deep within gradually but quickly increased until I sat paralyzed, staring through the windows across the common area, opposite the nurse’s station.

     “NO!” I silently screamed, unable to produce sound, unable to produce movement.

     This time the pleas for help came from the opposite direction, the female’s hallway. “What are you doing? Help! Help! It hurts! Please, stop!”

     “Sue.” I thought. “Please, not Sue, not again!”

     I so badly wanted to scream for her, to run to her, to help her, but I couldn’t. No one could. Like a department store filled with lifeless mannequins instantly solidified into the various positions we were in, we could only listen, helplessly.

     Blanketed in relentless waves of nausea, I felt as if I would drown in my own emesis due to my inability to swallow or eject the gastric flow.

     The distant scream morphed into spine-chilling sounds of gurgling; a sound one would yield as if screaming underwater. Crackles could be heard upon inspiration as the airway was dammed by a rising fluidic wall.

     My mind beckoned for release from the unseen mould in which I was forcefully placed. My joints ached and muscles tensed under the pressure of my attempt to break the hypnotic web in which I was trapped. And then – silence – release.

     As my body, our bodies, simultaneously slumped from the hardened state we were held captive; I immediately ran toward Sue.

     I flung the restraint room door open and was stopped dead in my tracks at the sight of Sue leaning from her chair and peering around the opening of the seclusion area, questioning, “What happened?”

     “Are you okay?” I asked.

     “I – I think so,” She performed a visual check of herself. “What happened, Craig?”

     “I told you they were coming.” Vicky calmly stated from the ERC, unnerving laughter followed. “We are all going to die if we don’t get out of here. Let me out of here!” She concluded with a shriek.

     “In there!” Trevor was standing further down the hallway pointing opposite of Peggy’s room. “It sounded like it was coming from in there.”

     My attention captured; I ran for the room to which Trevor was pointing. “Are you okay?” I asked with a quick glance as I neared.

     His reply, if any, went unnoticed, unheard, as my focus manifested on a small stream of blood beginning to snake its way from beneath the closed bedroom door.

     Slowly, fearfully, I pushed the door open. Inside the room it appeared as if every square inch of wall, floor, and ceiling was reddened with paint angrily expelled from a madman’s brush. Droplets fell from the ceiling in such frequency it gave the appearance of rain.

     “What the…” Cody whispered from behind as he too stood in horror’s awe of the sight before us. “Whose room, is it?” He asked.

     “Alisha’s.” Trevor informed. “Looks like she really did it this time.”

     Alisha was a beautiful young lady, early twenties, diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder. She was such a nice person once stabilized on medications, but with a dark and traumatic past.

     Many years prior, she had arrived home from school, ninth grade, I think, to find her mother laying murdered in the foyer; life succumbed from multiple stab wounds. Her father lay next to her with a gunshot wound to his head – classic murder/suicide.

     Tossed into foster care, Alisha’s mental state quickly declined. She began cutting herself daily – “I need to feel what mom did.” She would justify. As the years passed, she had succeeded in transforming her arms and legs into pallets of hardened scar tissue. Poor kid.

     “I don’t think she did this, Trevor.” I passively scolded. “Did you see anyone go in here?”

     “No one.” He answered. “I was right here with helping Peggy to her bed until…until whatever just happened, happened.”

     “What do you mean?” I asked.

     “The thing, you know, whatever happened to us earlier.” Trevor gestured with an outstretched finger waving back and forth toward the ceiling.

     “Yeah, it just happened to everyone again. Right before the screaming started.”

     “Don’t forget about the lights, boss.” Cody added.

     “What?” I probed, still staring into the blood-soaked room.

     “The lights.” He reiterated. “They flickered right before I started feeling sick again and then I couldn’t move. The same thing happened before.”

     “Your right, they did.” I confirmed. “And you are absolutely positive no one came in this room, right?” I side-stepped as Brianna came rushing in with a mop bucket and towels attempting to slow the burgundy flow from entering neighboring rooms.

     Patients began to emerge from their rooms - some screaming, some crying; some silently gazing at the scene.

     “Trevor, start getting the patients calmed and in their room.” I instructed. “Brianna, call security and the house office and get them over here. Cody, you’re coming with me.”

     “You got it, boss. I’m right here with you.” Cody stated.

     The trickles of reddened rain began to slow as we entered the room. “Be careful.” I stated. “It’s slippery.”

     Cautiously moving forward, I looked to the opposite side of the bed, to the floor – nothing. “She must be in the bathroom.” I softly communicated.

     The background noise began to dissipate as patients were redirected either to their rooms or into the common area, anywhere away from our location. The sound of blood droplets releasing from the ceiling and spattering onto the floor constructed a sinister ambiance within the room. Droplets pecked on our heads and shoulders as if to gain our attention – attention achieved, indeed.

     “Let me open it.” Cody stated as he reached before me placing his hand on the door handle. “If whoever did this is still in there, I’d rather they come after me than you; somebody has to keep this show running around here and that person is not me.”

     I stood behind Cody as the he turned the handle and slowly opened the door. Achieving the half open point, he reached in, fingers blindly tracing across the blood-wet wall for the light switch - ON. As the light illuminated the area, Cody produced a muffled gag. “Boss.” He turned toward me with widened eyes. “Look.”

     Cody’s step to the side unveiled a scene of repulsion, the likes of which Hollywood could only envision to duplicate. Just as was the bedroom, the walls, floor, and ceiling were red washed in coagulating blood. This, however, is not what stimulated Cody’s gag reflex.

     Hanging upside down from the fixed shower curtain rod was Alisha. Her ankles were wrapped with what appeared to be torn pieces of sheet from her bed. Her legs were spread wide and attached to either end of the rod spanning the width of the shower. She appeared to have been hung and gutted as would a white-tail deer not fast enough to escape the hunter’s bullet seeking its life.

     Muscle and tissue filled the bottom of the shower. Pieces of flesh were strewn about as if discarded by a butcher removing the inedible cuts of meat unfit for human consumption. Her face was hidden behind her internal organs now dangling from her broken and separated chest cavity. The white of bone could be seen gazing from behind the shredded meat of her arms and legs.

     “We better get out of here, boss.” Cody’s voice caused my body to jump.

     “Wait.” I contested. “I need to see something. Hand me that mop Brianna brought with her.”

     “Uh, okay?” Cody pondered as he cautiously and briefly stepped from the room. “Here you go.”

     I sightlessly reached behind as Cody positioned the handle in my back-stretched hand.

     “What are you doing? He asked - no reply.

     Gripping just above the head of the mop, I used the handle end to slowly push aside the organs obscuring Alisha’s face. What I exposed was the same hollow-eyed stare as Anthony. It was as if their souls had been vacuumed from their being as they beheld a horror beyond human imagination. Similarly, Alisha’s jaw was fixed into the same opened position – mid-scream.

     “What is going on here?” I soundlessly questioned.

     “Hey, boss.” Cody alerted. “Security is here.”

     The two security officers looked as if the very breath of life had been taken from them as they stared into the room, faces white-washed. No words were spoken as I walked past. At that moment, no words could be found.

     “Cody.”

     “Yeah, boss?”

     “Get cleaned up and into a change of clothes. I have an extra pair of pants and shirt if you need them.” I offered as blood dripped from my fingertips. “I’m going to do the same. I will meet you at the nurse’s desk.”

     “I’m good, boss.” He replied. “I keep an extra set of scrubs in my locker.”

     “Okay. Make it quick.”  I ordered.

      As Cody made his way toward the staff’s breakroom, I turned to look once again into Alisha’s room. What is going on here? I soundlessly begged for an answer.

     Across the hallway, standing by her bedroom door, Peggy smiled as she soothingly hummed – Swinging on a Star.

Chapter– Six

     “I want all patients off that hall and on to the male hallway, now.” Speaking with reserved panic, I informed and directed staff of our plan of action – more action than plan.

     As much as everything within me wanted to run away from the happening madness within the walls of Ward Two, I could not allow staff to see me waiver and succumb to the fear quickly and uncontrollably growing inside of me.  I was the leader on the ward. It was my job to ensure safety for staff and patients alike. This was not the time to falter. I had to muster up the strength to push through the panic and remain calm; calm for them, calm for me.

     “You got it, boss.” Cody replied.

     “Trevor? Where’s Trevor?” I spun around on my heels scanning the ward.

     “Right here.” Trevor was leading a still humming Peggy from the hall.

     “Take her to an empty room and shut those fire doors behind you.”  I pointed toward the male hallway.

     “Come on Peggy.” He coached. “We need to go this way.”

     “As soon as you get her situated, come find me. Got it?”

     “Got it.” He confirmed.

     I passed security as I headed toward the seclusion area. “What do you think?” I questioned keeping stride.

     Their eyes rotated my way, consumed with overwhelming disbelief. “I – I don’t know.” One of them stated. “But we have got a big problem here.”

     “You think?” I stated with a mixed undertone of sarcasm and frustration.

     Rushing through the opening of the seclusion area, I found Sue kneeling next to a weeping Vicky. “It’s going to be okay, hon.” Sue had an uncanny ability to relate to the patients. She was known for her ability to “talk them down” during times of behavioral crisis.

     It was obvious upon my entrance that the B52 administered earlier was taking effect. Vicky was relaxed, too relaxed considering what lay just outside the room.

     “Do you think she is okay to be released?” I asked.

     “Yeah, I think she will just go to bed now.”  Sue stated while patting Vicky on her restrained hand.

     “Okay. I will send Trevor in here to help get her out of the chair. When she is, find an empty room on the male hallway for her. I’m clearing out this hall.”

     “Craig?” Sue’s audible concern slowed my forward-thinking momentum. “What’s happening? I’m scared.”

     “I am too, Sue. I am too.”

     That moment of pause drew my attention to my wife and daughter at home. I could picture them both snuggled warmly in bed together on this cold winter’s night. I would give anything to be with them, anything. I silently cursed the raging blizzard as it mocked those of us trapped inside; daring us to step out. At this moment, the blizzard would be a warm welcome compared to the events happening inside the walls of Dockets.

     “Craig.” Trevor’s voice shook me from my thoughts. “What do I need to do?”

     “Uh…” My mind stuttered to collect itself as I was jolted back to the present hell, we were in. “Help Sue.”

     “I’ll be home soon.” I thought as I desperately clung to one last image of my family. “Soon…I hope.”

     As I reentered the common area, I could see Laura sitting at the far end of the hallway monitoring David as instructed. She appeared to be weeping. Instinctively, I made my way to her.

     “You, okay?” I asked while placing my hand on her tensed shoulder.

     “Yeah.” She replied looking upward with tear-glistened eyes. “I’m just – I’m just afraid.”

     “I think we all are, Laura.” I comforted. “Do you need a break?”

     “No.” She stated while wiping a fallen tear with the sleeve of her shirt. “I’m fine.”

     “Well, if you change your mind, let me know.” My heart reached for her.

     I can only imagine what must have been running through Laura’s mind. She had never experienced something like this. As a matter of fact, none of us had experienced anything such as this.

     At least for those of us who had been working within the psychiatric field for some time, we were, to some extent, use to the unordinary, the strangeness, which often accompanies mental illness.

     Throughout my years as a psych nurse, I have witnessed patients so delusional, so psychotic, we would be forced to seclude or restrain them for days, even weeks, at a time attempting to keep them safe; safe from themselves. I have given witness to individuals who would use their own feces to coat their bodies, all the while singing and praising God. I have witnessed those who would swallow and insert objects into their bodies and soon be standing on the brink of death due to bowel perforation or esophageal tear.

     I have witnessed the effects of drug use take a relatively normal and full-of-potential young man or woman and propel them into an unreturnable state of paranoia, delusion, and psychosis – lives shattered, forever altered, due to peer pressure and carelessness of one night out with friends.

     But this, this was different. What happened to Anthony and Alisha seemed, well, unhuman. How could such grotesque horrors occur in such a small timeframe? How could there be no sign of anyone around of whom to cast blame? And the internal vibrations, the waves of nausea, the flickering of the ward lights, and the state of petrification, what was that all about?

     “How’s he doing?” I asked with a head gesture directed toward David. “Is he okay?”

     Laura straightened up a bit in her chair. “He’s just been sitting there on the bed. He hasn’t said a word. Even as I introduced myself, he would not speak; he wouldn’t even look my way.”

     “Let me give it a try.”

     I entered the room slowly as to minimize a presentation of threat. “David?” I softly questioned.

     David was sitting in the middle of the bed wearing a hooded sweatshirt. The drawstrings of the hood were pulled tightly as to only allow a small portion of his sightless eyes to be seen.

     “David?” I again attempted to initiate a response. “My name is Craig. I am the Head Nurse on the ward. I wanted to stop by and say hello.” My presence remained unacknowledged. “Do you need anything?”

     His head suddenly darted toward me – startling. His eyes were like mirror-finished blackened stones set deep into their sockets. His left eye gazed straight ahead while the other was fixed slightly up and to the right.

     “Be quiet. He’s right there.” He spoke at a whisper and subtly pointed over his left shoulder. “Do you see him?”

     “I’m sorry David, but I don’t. Who is it? Who do you see?”  I purposefully maintained an arm’s length distance.

     “He’s right there.” Speaking with an even lower volume, I could barely hear his words. Moisture began to accumulate at the bottom of his glassy stare. “He’s trying to kill me.”

     “Who wants to kill you, David?” I explored. “Who is it?”

     Without response, he slowly turned his head back to the frontward position, previously claimed.

     “David? David, can we talk some more? I want to help you, but I need to know what’s going on.”

     Maintaining silence, he lay supine onto the bed, rolled over, and covered his hooded head with a blanket. I could see his body jerk as he began to cry.

     “We are here for you if you need us, David.” I attempted to soothe the weeping man. “Laura is sitting just outside the door. Let her know if you need anything, okay?” No response.

     “I’m going to check the doctor’s orders and see if there is any medication we can give him.” I again placed my hand on Laura’s shoulder in reassurance. “He is really hallucinating right now, sad.”

     Laura forced a smile as her tear-traced cheek began to dry.

     As I turned to walk the hallway toward the medication room, a gust of cold air forcefully hit me from behind. I was knocked to the ground. The lights dreadfully returned to an unnerving flicker.

     What the…, Please, God, no! I could only express as thought as my vocal cords ceased to produce sound. “This can’t be happening, again!”

     The frigid wind flowed into the opening of the bottom of my pant leg – chills of helplessness surged as I lay pressed to the floor as if the weight of ten men were upon me. My stomach churned. I desperately fought the urge to vomit.

     No screams for help could be heard, only what sounded like stifled moans. The hairs on my arms and neck stood straight. Was it because of the icy tempest rushing over me, or the fact that the muffled sounds came as a pair…no…a trio?

     The fire door closures, again, released their magnetic hold and slowly, disturbingly, began to shut. Upon their closing, my ability to hear the moans diminished considerably.

     The internal vibration seemed to intensify as my chest was being pressed to the concrete floor. It felt as if I were tightly embracing and absorbing a running jackhammer, attempting to halt a force much greater than I.

     I could barely make out what seemed like the voice of one of the security guards yelling from outside the ward doors. They were frantically beating and kicking the door in attempt to gain entry. The flickering of the lights must have alerted security to run toward our direction.

     I wanted to scream but words could not be formed. The pressure forcing me to remain on the floor was making it difficult to breath. I gasped for air as each exhale restricted the movement of my chest cavity attempting to expand, eager to receive another life sustaining breath. I was like prey trapped within the coils of a sadistic python squeezing tighter and tighter with the loss of each molecule of oxygen expelled from my lungs. I was being suffocated, overwhelmed, by an evil, unseen.

     Then, as quickly as it began, it ceased. My body heaved, gasping for air as if suddenly breaking the surface of the ocean after being held under nearing the point of death.

     Behind me I could hear Laura breathing heavily as she too was released from death’s grip. She sprang from her chair and ran to the exit door located just outside David’s room at the far end of the hallway. She began frantically beating on the shatterproof glass yelling, “Please! Help! Somebody! Get us out of here! Help!”

     Wind-driven snow rushed into the hallway as Laura opened the door continuing to contact help that would not answer.

     “Laura!” I shouted in her direction. “Laura!”  She turned looking at me as I stood to my feet. “Stop! You must stop! There is no place to go. The blizzard, remember?”

     Shutting the door, she slid to an upright fetal position, head buried in her folded arms resting atop her knees, sobbing.

     My attention turned toward the closed fire doors. Just as I reached them, Cody darted from the medication room knocking me to the wall.

     “Sorry, boss.” He stated as he reached to steady me.

     “I’m okay. Follow me.” I replied.

     Bursting through the doorway, a quick glance revealed security continuing to struggle with opening the ward entrance doors. “Must be jammed.” I thought. “Cody, help them open that door.” I pointed toward security.

     “I’m on it, boss.” Cody left my side in a jog.

     Brianna was standing at the nurse’s station visibly shaken, appearing lost as if she knew not where she was nor what she should do.

     “Brianna.” I spoke loud enough to command her attention as I stood before her.

     “Huh?” She looked at me with eyes brimming with misunderstanding.

     “Are you okay?” I asked.

     “No, I mean…yes, but we need to get out of here.” Brianna’s legs struggled to remain steady as she spoke. “This isn’t right, Craig. I don’t know what’s going on, but I know something is wrong, something is bad wrong.”

     “I need you to be strong right now, Brianna. I need your help.” My words were not just an attempt to comfort the terror-stricken individual before me; I truly meant it. I needed all the help I could get. We needed one another.

     Laura suddenly appeared from behind the fire doors, still wiping away tears of fear from her eyes and face. “I’m going to need some help down here. A lot of the patients are up.”

     “Brianna, I need you to go help Laura.” I methodically stated. “Laura needs you.” I placed both my hands onto Brianna’s shoulders looking straight into her eyes. “Brianna, we all need you.”

     “Um, okay.” She stated as she tightly squinted her eyes and shook her head attempting to regain composure. “I…I’ll go help Laura.”

     “Thank you.” I replied with a warm, counterfeit, smile.

     “The door won’t open, boss.” Cody relayed as he returned to my side. “I tried from our end too; they’re still working on it.”

     “Good enough.” I spoke.

     “Come on, Cody.” I instructed with a back handed slap to his arm. “You’re coming with me.”

     A glance toward the clock hanging high on the wall:

“Almost midnight.”

Chapter – Seven

         Pushing the fire doors open, reluctantly, the ward was eerily silent. With Cody close behind, we slowly and methodically made our way to the seclusion area where Sue and Trevor were last directed to be assisting Vicky out of the ERC and into a room to rest.

     With each step taken came an overwhelming sense of unease. My mind flipped through the horrifying pictures of the gruesome sights of Anthony and Alisha; my breath quickened its pace. Like flashes of lightening momentarily revealing one’s surroundings, a mind-seared illumination replayed the vision of their hollow eyes staring into nothingness. Then, another flash, their jaws fixed open, frozen mid-scream of a terror only known by them.

     “Sorry, boss.” Cody apologized, bumping into me, distracted by his own visions of horror, questioned.

     “It’s fine.” I replied. “Stay close.”

     Turning the corner of the seclusion room’s opening, I could see a tangled mass of legs and feet extending just outside the doorway. Trevor. I thought as a chill coursed up and down my spine.

     Just as he had done before in Alisha’s room, Cody suddenly picked up his pace and placed his hand first on the door. “Stand back, boss.”

     As the door opened wider, the chill traveling its tingling path across my face transformed to numbness.

     Laying on the floor was Sue and Trevor. They were joined together at the neck by a leather strap ripped from the ERC. The strap was wrapped and twisted tightly around their necks; both nearly decapitated. Their faces were pressed tightly together at their cheeks. Blood trickled from their eyes and mouths as the force attempted to make two, one.

     In the corner of the room was Vicky, arms and legs torn from her body and strewn across the padded floor.

     Blood pooled around mine and Cody’s shoes as it dumped from her skin-frayed sockets.

     All three had the same stare and expression as did both Anthony and Alisha – hollow, frozen in time.

     “Who…what did this, boss?” Cody questioned.

     “I don’t know Cody.” I replied as I lightly pinched the sleeve of his scrub top and pulled him back toward the door. “But this is bad. Very bad.”

     Exiting the seclusion area, we trekked a bloody trail through the common area and toward the still closed entrance doors security was unsuccessfully attempting to open. One of them, visible through the small four-inch-wide-by-twelve-inch-high shatterproof pane of glass, shrugged his shoulders and shook his head while pointing at the door’s handles; muffled words reverberated through the steel door.

     “Keep trying.” I elevated my voice. “We have three more dead in here.” Widened eyes and a nod of their heads relayed to me their confirmation.

     “Cody.” I barked with growing desperation. “Do a quick search of the female’s rooms and common area and meet me in the male’s hallway. Make sure everyone is accounted for and with us. I want everyone together. Get every patient up and out of their rooms. I want to see them all, now.”

     “Got it, boss.” Cody confirmed, spinning on his heels.

     I need a second. I quietly informed myself.

     Pressing outstretched hands firmly against the outer edge of the nurse’s desk as would a marathon runner attempting to reclaim their post-race breath, I peered over my right shoulder toward what remained of my coworkers and disassembled patient. My knees trembled beneath me.

     My body jerked; abdomen tightened. I fought back a surge of mourning pressing hard against my diaphragm.

     Though never having been a religious man, at this moment, I sought deeply to cry out to God for salvation from the evil among us, be that evil human or other.

     I’m sorry. My wife’s face appeared within my mind’s eye.

     Despite her best efforts, I consistently made weekly excuse as to my not being able to attend Sunday morning church service with her. I now regretted every reasoning I had concocted (yard work, home repair, fishing, tired from the work week).

     If I had ceased with excuse, just once, I might know what to do, what to say, at a time such as this. If I had only attended one service, listened closely to one sermon, or sought instruction from those who stated they talked with God, maybe He could hear me on this night as I so needed Him to listen. If I had only taken the time to learn how to pray, this would be the time to know.

     The words that fell from my lips were not directed toward the heavens as my head hung low between my shoulders. Certain my pleas to the Almighty would fall on deaf ears, calloused due to my lifetime of spiritual silence, I could only mumble two words; two of the sincerest words I may ever speak – “Please. Help.”

Chapter – Eight

     Per my instruction, the patients were lined up on either side of the male’s hallway as I pushed through the fire doors. Cody was pacing in the middle of the hall obviously trying to keep calm those who were not fond of being awake at such an hour. Laura and Brianna were standing at the far end next to the door leading into the courtyard – an enclosed area of which patients were afforded the taste of the sun and warm breeze, weather permitting of course – this was not the case tonight.

     The fast-accumulating snow had risen to nearly three feet deep with swooping drifts much deeper.

     What to many may give the impression of beauty, stood as a whitened mockery to those of us trapped inside of Dockets. Each gust of wind and whirling flake of snow only gave reminder that there was no escape, no assistance, no salvation headed our way.

     The howling wind sounded as laughter directed toward our circumstance as it swept through the tattered seals of the aged door frame.

     The twelve feet high chain-link fence, topped with menacing coils of concertina wire, shook and rattled as the wintry storm made its presence known; daring us to come out and play; daring anyone giving thought of attempted escape.

     “Is this everyone?” I questioned.

     “Everyone.” Cody replied.

     “Okay, listen up, everyone!” My voice raised in volume and urgency, grasping the attention of all. “There are some strange events happening on this ward tonight and I’m going to get to the bottom of it.”

     Cody shushed two patients attempting to converse among themselves. “Pay attention you two.”

     “I want everyone to stand straight with your backs against the wall and hold out your hands.” I barked. There has got to be blood on whoever is doing this. I thought. Something.

     “Cody and I will be inspecting your person while Brianna and Laura,” I stated their names with emphasis as to ensure their attention and give direction. “Will be searching your rooms.”

     “What are you looking for?” Jesse asked guiltily.

     “That’s none of your concern right now.” I answered.

     “If you’re going to go through my stuff then it is my business.” He boldly stated as Cody closed the distance between them.

     “Watch your tone there, bud.” Cody stated standing before him.

     “You want to try me, boy?” Jesse took a fighting stance. Arms, tattooed from shoulder to wrist, tensed as his hands clinched to a white-knuckled mass.

     “Not looking for a fight.” Cody evenly announced while taking another half-step toward Jesse. “But it wouldn’t be the first time.” Unbeknownst to Jesse, Cody daily trained at a local boxing facility. He had little fear of standing toe-to-toe with another man – Another man, that is.

     “I’ll show you what eight years in prison can do.” Jesse firmed his dug-in stance.

     “And I’ll show you what me, him,” Cody pointed toward me. “And six security officers can do.” Another half-step taken to shorten the distance.

     “I got no problem letting you spend the rest of the night in the chair, if that’s what you want.” Cody threatened. I normally would frown upon this level of confrontation but for now, I sided with Cody.

     “Jesse.” I interrupted their boldened stare and mentally sizing up of one another. “We are not singling anyone out. We need to, we are going to search each room, including yours. There is something going in here and I intend to get to the bottom of it.” I approached in a much less threatening posture than Cody. “Now, like Cody said, you can either watch it happen from where you are standing or from the ERC, the choice is yours to make.”

     I raised a hand-held radio, retrieved from the nurse’s station prior to entering the hallway. “I will call security right now if I need to. Your choice.” Unbeknownst to Jesse, my words were nothing more than empty threats. I was well aware that security was currently unable to enter the ward.

     “Aright, alright, go ahead.” Jesse said relaxing his posture and brushing the side of his nose with his thumb. “But just so you know,” He pointed and smiled at Cody. “This ain’t over.”

     Cody returned a welcoming smile and nodded.

     “Alright, we are going to begin on the right side of the hall and work our way down and then come back up on the left.” I continued to pace the hall as would a commanding officer relaying orders to his troops prior to enemy engagement.

     “When we get to you, you will extend your hands so we can inspect them. After that, you will turn around and place your hands on the wall. We will then conduct a thorough search of your person.

     “This is some bull…” Jesse began.

     “Just do what you’re told.” Cody quickly snapped back. The two shared a glare of abhorrence.

     “Any questions?” I asked.

     No one answered.

     Peggy began to hum.

     “Cody.” I pulled his still glaring eyes from Jesse. “Actually, change of plans. I need you to swap out with Brianna. You and Laura search the rooms, me and Brianna will search the patients. I will pat down the males and Brianna the females.”

     “You sure, boss.” He questioned. “I’d like to be here if there’s any trouble.” He again stared distastefully at Jesse.

     “I’m sure, Cody. Brianna and I will be fine.”

     “Okay, boss. Be sure to call out if you need me though.” Another menacing glare shot toward Jesse.

     “I will, Cody.” I answered.

     Once Brianna arrived by my side, our search for answers began.

Chapter – Nine

     “Dang, boss.” Cody spoke, disheartened. “Nothing.”

     The hallway had fallen quiet. Our search revealed no more than when we began. The patients had returned to their rooms; most of them back in their beds. Cody, Brianna, and I gathered around Laura at the end of the hallway as she continued the assignment of monitoring David who had resumed the position of sitting motionless on his bed staring blankly at the cinder block wall before him.

     “What now?” Brianna asked.

     “I’m not sure.” I glumly replied. “There has to be an explanation for this. There has to be someone doing this.”

     “I don’t know, boss.” Cody injected. “I’m not so sure there is a someone.”

     Laura sat silently with tears flowing from her eyes. “I want to go home.” She expressed. “I need to go home.”

     “We all want to go home, Laura.” I said as I lay my hand on her shoulder. “Soon, I hope, but for now we must be strong; for the patients; for each other.”

     “I miss my son.” Laura’s tears quickened their release from the corners of her glistening eyes. “I’m all he has.”

     Laura’s “sperm donor” as she referred to him, left her just three months after the birth of their only child. “I can’t do this” he had cowardly informed her. What he really meant was, “I would rather be doing something else.”  

     Her ex determined a life as husband and father did not coincide with his desire to snort cocaine. Sadly, Laura had arrived home one evening to a note taped onto the refrigerator door stating that he had left and would not be returning. A meager two-hundred-fifty dollars was his chosen appeasement for his decision.

     Brianna scooted closer to Laura and wrapped her arms around her. “We’ll be home soon.” She reassuringly spoke.

     Distracted within whispered conversation, we were all shaken by David’s voice and close-proximity; worry-laced conversation concealed his movement from bed to doorway. He now stood an uncomfortable three feet from us. His unseeing eyes danced about from within the window of his tightly drawn hood as if visually tracking a housefly circling and swooping about his face. “Do you see him?” He asked with a whisper.

     “See who?” Cody questioned as Laura and Brianna instinctively looked behind them in search of a presence.

     “Fantasma.” He stated. “Do you see him?” His arm rose as he pointed over his left shoulder. “He’s right there.”

     “N – No one is there David.” Brianna said as she leaned to the side to look behind him to be sure.

     “David?” I stood to my feet. “Who is Fantasma?” I questioned.

     “He’s right there.” He whispered again as a tear fell from his jolting eyes. “DO YOU SEE HIM!”

     His scream forced all of us from our place of inquisitiveness into acute alarm. I physically jumped backwards; Cody involuntarily, instinctively, stepped forward.

     “Okay, bud.” Cody stated as he stepped in front of us all. “There’s no need in you yelling out like that.”

     David began sobbing, air heaving in and out of his lungs as his body shook. “He’s right there.” His voice returned to the soft-spoken, even-toned, manner as before. His face contorted as he fought back the terror of whomever or whatever this Fantasma person was. Then, as if flipping a switch, his face reset to an expressionless state. He turned and walked back to his bed and sat as before, staring once again at the wall before him.

     “I’d like to spend about thirty seconds in that guy’s head and see what he’s seeing,” Cody stated as he stepped out of the room. “No more than thirty seconds, though.”

     “Schizophrenia is a terrifying disorder, Cody.” I spoke. “Hopefully we can get some medication orders soon that will help him.”

     “I’ll go see if Doctor Whitt has ordered anything lately.” Cody stated as began to walk toward the other end of the hallway. “A good dose of Haldol wouldn’t hurt a thing right about now.”

     “While you’re in there call the front desk and see how security is coming with that door.”

     “Will do, boss.”

     As if awaiting my cue, the radio clipped to my side crackled as security spoke. “Craig? Can you hear me? Are you alright?”

     Pressing my thumb against the button on the side of the radio, I answered, “I wouldn’t say I’m alright; hanging in there is more like it.” I paused and attempted to swallow my next words, praying while doing so that they would somehow not be true. “Sue, Trevor, and another patient are now dead. I don’t know what’s going on in here, but it would sure be nice to have you guys around.”

     “We’re trying to reach you.” Those words produced a blanketing sense of helplessness. Likened unto a swimmer far from land, drifting further into an angry sea only to catch a brief glimpse above the cresting waves of a lone lifeguard standing ashore shouting, “I am here to help you.”

     “Well, please, keep trying.” I replied.

     “Don’t worry, my friend.” The voice reassured. “We are here to help.”

     As the radio conversation concluded, I hesitantly made my way to the opposite end of the hallway and peered through the fire doors to check the clock hanging on the wall – 1:07 am.

Chapter – Ten

     My mind drifted as I attempted to track individual flakes of snow flipping and fluttering in the wind, only to be lost within the matching bleach-colored background.

     I had been employed at Dockets for twenty-one years as of 1978. Prior to that, I served my country during the Korean War with Company C of the 9th Infantry Regiment; historically known for our part in an engagement at a place called Bloody Ridge in 1951. Out of the eighty-five men in our company who began the attack, only thirty-five of us had survived. I left the war and ended my military service earning two Bronze Stars, one Purple Heart, and an intense dislike for Korean food.

     As a nineteen-year-old Private First Class, I witnessed firsthand the horrors of combat. I have heard the screams of young men as they lay dying on a battlefield far from their mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, wives, and children. I have watched as men’s bodies were torn apart by the enemy’s hardware, sometimes within mere feet of my position. I have held soldiers riddled with shrapnel as their lives evolved from panic to shock to eternal rest. Yes, I have witnessed the horrors that men inflict on one another, yet what I saw that night in Anthony, Sue, Trevor, Alisha, and Vicky seemed to be much more than man’s evil handy work.

     Their eyes. I have throughout the years pondered. What must they have seen?

     Their bodies contorted and torn apart as if by wild animals fighting one another for a long-needed meal essential for survival. Alisha, poor Alisha. Her flesh and muscle was shredded from her bones by what seemed to be the talons of an otherworldly creature.

     An icy chill shot from feet to head as I pictured the scene; hanging from her ankles; disemboweled. Poor, Alisha. Those words will forever echo through the corridors of my mind.

     Poor, Alisha.

      Poor, Alisha.

Chapter – Eleven

     “It looks like it’s slowing a bit.” Cody predicted, looking through the courtyard door at the still falling snow.

     “I hope they’re able to clear the roads soon.” Laura added.

     “How are the patients?” I questioned.

     “I think they’re all in bed,” Brianna answered, still kneeling at Laura’s side. “I’ll do a round.”

     We watched as Brianna walked from us and began undetectably peering into each patient’s room. Although the hallway was only one-hundred feet or so in length, her distance from us manifested unease as fear of the unknown weighed heavily on our minds. Each step taken seemed as though she had gone too far; as though reaching her, if needed, would be a formidable, if not impossible, undertaking. Please, hurry. I silently plead.

     My eyes refused to release their hold on Brianna. I watched, dreaded, each step she took as the span of distance increased, inch by hand-wringing inch.

     In mid-stride, Brianna suddenly stopped between patient rooms. She stood motionless as would a purposefully and meticulously positioned storefront mannequin draped in the latest fashion. Why did she stop? I questioned. What’s wrong?

     As I began to rise from my chair to go to her, a cold yet familiar gust of death swept over me as before. It was at that moment I realized that I too had been frozen, suspended in a time I did not wish to be. Pulsations began to churn within my body. My skin dried and shrunk on my frame. Nausea danced about within me. My eyes began to burn as I struggled to blink.

     The cold and evil wind seemed to swirl about the hallway as if making its own hall round, entering and exiting rooms at will as if it knew where to go and what policy-driven tasks to perform. Screams and cries for help began to force their way past the patient room doors. The lights flickered. Darkness fell.

     Screams engulfed the hallway as verbalized torment elevated in volume. A heavy shadowing filled the area like an impenetrable blanket being draped across us all. Breathing became difficult as the weight of blackness restricted my ability to draw in the air I so desperately longed.

     From behind, I could hear whom I was sure to be Laura, also gasping for air. I desperately tried to break free from the clutching grip of my unseen captor – I couldn’t.

     The hallway filled with sounds of thuds and thumps against the closed doors bringing concurrent cessation to many of the screams which began to transform into gurgles and droning strains prior to falling silent.

     The doors to the patient rooms began to rattle violently, collectively. Within the darkness it sounded as if the doors were being opened and then forcefully slammed shut repeatedly.

     The overwhelming sound of terror compelled me to look as much as it also made me pray I would not.

     The inner vibration was stronger than I had before experienced. So strong were the rapid pulsations, I could see my hands trembling from the corner of my widened eyes.

     The handheld radio crackled to life. “Craig! Craig!” Security begged for response. “Craig! Are you alright? Can you hear me?” My eyes slowly and instinctively fought to look upon the radio attached to my belt, mere inches from my immovable hand.

     Screams diminished. The sound of wet thuds and thumps slowed to an eventual halt. The air felt as if it were being sucked out of the hallway. The same sensation experienced as a tornado pulls life-sustaining oxygen from one’s home and even lungs as it passes by or even worse, destroys all within its path.

     The lights began to flicker once again as foreign shadows danced against the walls. And then, as quick as it began, it ended. The unbearable weight lifted from my body. Oxygen flowed into my lungs as I gasped. The veil of darkness was pulled back as lights brightened to display the horror before me. I often wished the lights would have never turned back on.

     Laura screamed as she frantically dashed toward the courtyard door and began beating and scratching on it. “Get me out of here! Please, get me out of here!” She pleaded.

     Cody, responding in his own shaken miasma, ran quickly to her side in a futile attempt to calm the desperate soul. Useless. Understood.

     The now lit hallway revealed a scene of unexplainable grotesqueness. Unsure of what I was looking at, I stood and rubbed my eyes as Cody rushed to my side.

     “Boss?” The question mark in his voice rang loudly within my head as I attempted to make sense of the carnage before us.

     Jesse ran out of his room with a panic-stricken stare pausing momentarily as he surveyed the scene. He then rushed toward Cody and I prompting Cody to half-step in front of me, preparing to absorb the brunt of a looming impact. However, as Jesse neared, he ran by us and joined Laura screaming and pleading for help through the courtyard door…help would not come. Not on this night.

     It was ironic, to say the least, to watch as this man, Jesse, covered in tattoos, years of apparent hardening of heart brought about by a necessary survival mode, vital for one enduring a lengthy prison sentence, beating on the door and pleading for help along with Laura.

     “Craig!” The radio announced. “Craig! Talk to me!”

     Grasping tightly the radio, I answered. “Guys, we really need to get out of here.”

     “We’re trying to get to you, Craig. Hang in there, my friend.” Their words seemed to emit from the speaker as if wielding a two-edged sword of impossibility, cutting deep into my psyche.

     “Not soon enough.” I answered. “We are not alright. We have got to get out of here.”

     “We’re trying to reach you, Craig,” The voice ineffectively reassured. “We are going to pull you out of this. It’s going to be okay.”

     “Well, keep trying.” My voice cracked as I could hear a hum from the entrance doors. Maybe they are trying to cut their way through. I thought...I prayed.

     I wish I could tell you that I ran to check on Brianna and the patients as should a leader do. I wish I could tell you that military training and combat experience kicked in as I heroically began administering first aid and bringing survivors to safety. I wish I could tell you that I did not stand in that hallway frozen in shock of the things I was seeing. There are many brave actions I wish I could tell you I took, but I can’t, I couldn’t.

     I did not run to anyone’s aid. I did not begin seeking out those who may need help. I did not rush to Brianna’s side to comfort her. I did not do any of those things one would hope for when found staring into the face of danger. No, I did none of the sort. What I did was simply stand in numbed shock of what lay before me.

     The hallway was littered with parts, body parts: Legs – arms – hands – feet - heads – torsos. Some whole, some not. Ripped, shredded, from their possessors. The walls were stained with blood spatter as the various appendages were torn from their possessors and thrown with a force unimaginable. Bits of flesh, brain and visceral matter oozed down the grey block walls in a gelatinous flow of lunacy.

     Brianna’s body, from hip to feet, lay just outside of a patient doorway, closed. Her upper half obscured on the opposite side.

     “Hey, boss?” Cody questioned. “Want me to check the rooms?”

     “Uh, what, I mean, yeah,” I replied with gut-wrenching reluctance. Jolted from my paralysis, I continued. “But not by yourself. We’re doing it together.”

     Each door opened revealed unimaginable, unexplainable revulsions. That which was not strewn throughout the hallway remained scattered within each room - blood-soaked walls, ceilings, floors, and beddings. Each face, those left recognizable, was twisted into the same wide-eyed, wide-jawed, snapshot of terror I had seen all too often on this night.

     Exiting one of the patient bedrooms appeared a wandering Peggy. With an unfitting smile stretched wide on her face, she hummed – Swinging on a Star. “Is she here?” She questioned. “Should I gather my things?”

     “No.” I replied as calmly as I could. “No, Peggy. She’s not here yet.”

     I took Peggy by her hand and gently led her to the end of the hallway where Jesse and Laura’s panic-stricken episode weakened into helpless exhaustion.

     “Why don’t you sit here with Laura for a while, Peggy.” I directed as I intensely and silently commanded Laura to calm herself with my widened and desperate gaze. “Tell her what you are going to get from the store. She wants to know,” My eyes never leaving Laura’s. “Don’t you Laura?” I stated more as a charge than a question.

     “Um, yeah,” Laura responded as visual understanding was relayed. “Yeah, I do.”

     Laura retrieved for Peggy the chair in which she had been sitting while monitoring David. Smiling, she wheeled it in front of her and motioned for Peggy to sit, wiping evaporating tears from her bloodshot eyes.

     Cody and I returned to business at hand checking the final two rooms he had not yet inspected during my brief absence.

     “So,” I asked. “Are there any other patients alive?”

     “None.” He stated. “They’re all dead, boss. Torn to shreds like the rest of them.  What the…”

     “Okay.” I interrupted as my mind reverted to an old military adage commonly used when less than desirable events were surrounding us – Adapt, Improvise, and Overcome. However, it was much easier to deploy such an attitude toward an enemy seen rather than the invisible carnage we currently faced. “We are all going to the end of the hall with Laura and Peggy. We are staying together.” I instructed while waving Cody to follow me in the stated direction. “Everybody watches out for everybody. So, it’s me, you, Laura, Jesse,” I ran through the list of those of us still alive, still having a chance of escape. “Peggy, and…David?” Realizing our failure to ensure David’s condition, my pace quickened returning to his room.

     Entering the doorway, David was found to be sitting just as he was prior to this last event or, however it could best be described. As if nothing had happened, he remained seated on the foot of his bed staring at the wall with his hooded shirt drawn tight.

     Laughter subtly began to emerge from the confines of his sweatshirt as his body shook. Subtly at first then, louder and louder until the bedroom and hallway filled with echoes of humor found only in the mentally deranged.

     “Shut up!” Jesse exclaimed, demanded. “Shut up before I shut you up!” He struck the bedroom door with his inked fist.

     “Jesse!” Cody diverted Jesse’s attention toward him. “We have bigger problems right now than that man’s laughter.”

     Sneering at Cody, Jesse directed his focus back toward David, and began to scream. “Are you doing this? Did you do this?” Jesse began walking toward David in a postured rage as Cody quickly placed him in a bear hug from behind. “Get off of me you prick!” Jesse contested. “He knows what’s going on here. He knows what’s happening.”

     Cody lifted Jesse to his toes and removed him, still yelling, threatening, from David’s room back into the hallway. “He knows!” Jesse continued screaming. “He knows!”

     “No one knows what’s going on Jesse.” I injected. “David has been sitting right there, the whole time, on his bed.”

     The laughter flowing from David suddenly ceased, gripping our curiosity. Silence fell among us all.

     Turning only his hood-encased head toward us, peering through the small opening with glassy eyes of nothingness, he pointed over his shoulder and stated just above an audible whisper, “He’s right there.”

     “Who’s right there you…” Jesse yelled while jerking violently with attempt to break free from Cody’s overpowering hold. “Who?

     “Fantasma.”

Chapter – Twelve

     My head housed a dull ache, residual pain remaining from the unseen and internal pressure and vibration which seemed to present and regress against self-will.

     Those of us who remained alive gathered as whimpering pups forcefully placed into a box made of concrete walls - cold, scared, powerless, no way to escape. Our eyes were fixed upon the blood-soaked hall littered with the shredded anatomy of those of whom we were given the responsibility to keep safe.

     How could this be? I questioned with thought. Who, or what could have done this? The tormenting questions bouncing around in my mind as would a pebble placed within a tin can being kicked about by a child stricken with boredom, only gave way to an increased surge of more unanswered, unnerving, questions.

     In the midst of my desperation, I looked at those of which I was given charge as Head Nurse.

     Laura: A twenty-two-year-old single mother, long blonde hair habitually pulled back into a ponytail.

     Laura would report to work daily, consistently, a few minutes early, adorned in vibrant color-coordinated scrubs with matching socks to boot. Always donning a “good morning” and smile on her face, until now. At present, lines of worry striped her brow as she knelt beside of Peggy, gently rubbing her frail hand, listening as she vocalized the grocery items her and her sister were to purchase upon her long-anticipated arrival. Redness around her eyes gave attentiveness of her extremely frightened and tearful state, currently suppressed on behalf of the one whose hand she gently stroked.

     If she had only known then, what she knows now, I thought. She would be at home with her baby boy snuggling under a warm blanket; no worry; no fear.

     Laura’s son was her “sunshine” she would gleefully state. Her white-teethed smile broadened as she spoke of his latest antics, curiosities, and questionings. Often, she had in hand the latest polaroid taken of her pride and joy. 

     After completing her CNA exam, she immediately held aspirations to continue her education. Her ultimate desire was to become a Registered Nurse with the up-and-coming Fall semester being her expected start date.

     She was a hard worker, always desiring to learn more of various mental illnesses, causes, symptoms, and treatments. If a procedure was to be performed, Laura was always eager and quick to volunteer, even if that meant working beyond her scheduled shift. “I just need to let mom know that I’m staying over” she would inform. Yes, Laura was a much needed and appreciated asset to Docket’s Psychiatric Hospital.

Cody stood with his arms crossed before him, slightly leaning into the corner, staring through the shatterproof pane of the courtyard door, watching the snow again pick up its relentless pace and increasing accumulation. Not a small man, his size gave him a significant advantage when dealing with an ill patient’s behavioral crisis or physical aggression towards themselves or others.

     Cody was himself a veteran of the United States Army who served with the 11th Armored Cavalry Regiment during the Vietnam War. While serving, he was given the nickname “Stretch” by fellow troopers due to their wonder of how someone of his height was able to enter the Army as a tank crewman. I am sure they quickly found solace in the fact that a man like Cody had been able to squeak through the cracks and be a part of their unit.

     Our differing military occupations gave way too many jokes and jabs at one another from time to time. Me, being a Crunchy, (the jokingly stated sound that an infantryman makes when being ran over by a tank, Cody would say), and him, a “DAT” (Dumb A-- Tanker).

     He took pride in his three boys who ranged from six to fifteen years of age. He was not only their father, but their T-ball and wrestling coach as well. His wife prided herself as a stay-at-home mother who often sent with Cody baked goods as he showed for work. He was usually found to be chewing on one of the baked items as he entered the facility.

    Now, at the age of thirty-two years, he stood under a slightly balding cover, dried stains of blood still present from our earlier trek through the horrors of Alisha’s bedroom, as worried as I had ever seen him.

      As for me, my wife was my world. Mary is her name. She blessed me with two children. One boy, married, with a wife expecting their first child, and one daughter, currently enrolled in a Pharmacists Aide program at our local community college. It was my wife who gave me daily reason to live.

     We had been married for twenty-six years now. I miss her.

     We met as I was medically separating from service at Walter Reed Medical Center. She was a Registered Nurse working for the Department of Veteran’s Affairs. I was a traumatized and physically wounded soldier just trying to adjust to life away from the battlefield. As chance would have it, I was one of her assigned patients. Her empathy and compassion were a strange and welcome trait I had not been exposed to in quite some time. We seemed to hit it off from the first day we met. As she daily treated the shrapnel wounds which riddled my legs from a much to close landing mortar round, we found ourselves lost in conversations of opportunities lost and dreams aspired.

     I must confess that there were times when I may have exaggerated my pain and comfort level just to see her once more; this, I never admitted. I think she knew.

     After my discharge we had agreed, I would soon write to her…I did – she wrote me back. It was not long before I began making my way back to Bethesda, Maryland to visit. After nearly one year of traveling back and forth from my place of residence to Maryland to see Mary, I convinced her to move back to Virginia with me. There, we were married, purchased a home, and the rest, as they say, is history.

     After the war, and with much encouragement from my beautiful and supportive wife, I decided to enroll into college as I quickly realized the lack of demand for a combat infantryman within the civilian workforce. My experience assisting medics with our wounded instilled within me a desire for healthcare. I attended the same two-year college my daughter now attends and earned my ADN (Associate Degree in Nursing). After a couple of years of work experience, I then went on to earn my BSN (Bachelor of Science in Nursing). I had often considered furthering my education and pursue my master’s degree, but family life, timing, and finances prohibited me from taking that next step. Maybe, someday, maybe.

     For now, education stood far in the background. Far from the current reality which gruesomely filled the hallway in which I sat.

     I had to figure out what was happening to us. I had to figure out what had happened to the others.

     Plan of action…unknown.

Chapter – Thirteen

     A muffled ringing sounded from the nurse’s station. Heads raised and turned toward the closed fire doors. We all looked at one another with question; all excluding David who remained blindly focused on the wall before him. What do we do?

     What if it’s help? Laura asked.

     “It may be security.” Cody added.

     “Either way, shouldn’t we answer it?” Laura’s voice expressed with frightened reserve.

     I keyed the handheld radio retrieved from my side. “Are you guys calling the nurse’s station?” No answer. “Security, this is Craig, is anyone calling the Ward Two nurse’s station?” Still, no answer. “Security, this is Craig.”

     “Do you want me to go answer it, boss?” Cody questioned.

     Please, do! My initial thought nearly fell audible from my mouth. “I guess one of us should.” I redirected my response.

     “I’ll get it.” Cody hesitantly insisted.

     “Be careful, Cody.” Laura added still holding and gently stroking Peggy’s feeble hand.

     Cody gave Laura a less-than-confident grin as he began walking toward the fire doors.

     “Is that Alice calling?” Peggy grinned. “She should be here soon.”

     “If it is we will let you know, Peggy.” Laura assured as Peggy began to hum.

     “Fantasma. Fantasma.” David’s voice flowed from the bedroom as it increased with volume. “Fantasma. Fantasma!”

     “Shut him up!” Jessie stated in fear-cloaked agitation. “Don’t start with that ag...”

     “Jesse.” I interrupted. “Please, not now.” I stood to enter David’s room.

     David was found to have left his seated position on the bed and now stood staring toward the doorway. “Fantasma. Fantasma.” His repeated chant grew louder, nearing shout.

     “David!” I matched his volume. “I need you to stop!”

     “He’s here.” David raised his arm, extended his finger, and pointed at what seemed to be beyond the place I was standing and into the hallway behind me.

     “Whatever, or whoever, Fantasma is, it’s not here.” I replied with agitation. “It’s only us. Me, Laura, Adam, Peggy, and Jesse. There is no Fantasma here.”

     David continued his chanting and pointing as is free hand loosened the drawstrings of his hood wide enough for us to see a widely framed smile preceding disturbing laughter.

     “You will soon see.” He stated. “You will all soon see.”

     His laughter continued growing as he retook his seat on the bed, pulled the drawstrings of his sweatshirt as to return the hood to its tightly closed position, and began blankly staring again at the cinder block wall.

     As his laughter diminished, Peggy’s humming replaced the primary stimulant shrouding the ward.

     Cody, reaching the fire door after carefully navigating the obstacle course of human remains, turned toward us displaying a subtle smile as if requiring reassurance that all is well…it wasn’t.

     Pushing the fire door open, he cautiously progressed into the common area. Door closed. Out of sight.

     His absence made time succumb to an unnatural stand to. “God be with you.” I whispered.

     In what seemed to be but a fraction of time, the fire doors returned to their closed position as the ringing of the telephone fell silent.

     “Shhh.” Laura attempted to bring an end to Peggy’s humming to listen; Peggy continued, only pausing to ask an all but unfamiliar question, “Is it Alice?”

     “Shhh.” I added with greater desperation. Returning a glance of confusion, her humming ceased.

     The silence in the hallway was deafening, interrupted only by the intermittent splatter of remaining blood droplets echoing as they lost their adherent grip on the ceiling.

     We listened. We watched. We waited.

     Bringing with him a showering sense of release from the numbing dread of terror-riddled anticipation, the fire doors again swung open on their hinges. It was Cody - intact.

     Thank God. I thought as Laura released a concurrently sounding sigh of release.

     “So,” Jesse questioned. “Who was it?”

     “I don’t know.” Cody replied to our disappointment. My shoulders relaxed and slumped in disappointment. “It stopped ringing before I could answer it. Hey, boss! Do you want me to try to call anyone while I’m here?”

     No sooner than the words of my reply formed across my lips, my body froze as the familiar and frightful vibration forcefully and violently gripped me from within. The lights subsequently flickered as a wave of nausea twisted my stomach into a tightly formed knot. An unfriendly wind whirled about filling the hallway with an ice-cold blanket of horror.

     There was no definitive direction in which the gust blew. It seemed to originate from, and flowing to, wherever it willed. Bone biting. Frigid.

     Another echo of laughter, evil-laden laughter, streamed from David’s room as he intertwined his mirth with the same words - “Fantasma. Fantasma.”

     Soft humming commenced as Laura’s now stiffened hand ceased its empathetic caress atop Peggy’s.

     The shock of Peggy and David’s ability to produce seemingly unaffected sound brought insurmountable confusion to the dire situation in which we were confined.

     How? I questioned. How?

     Locked within an unseen grasp and barely able to breath, I stared at Cody as he too became trapped by the indiscernible presence among us. He stood erect, ridged. Eyes widened. Jaw unhinging - distorting.

     Unable to turn toward Laura and Jesse, I could only assume by their silence they too were held captive by a force beyond the known realms of this world.

     Fighting for each gasp of air, believing it may be my last, I could only look in the direction of which I was forced.

     Through the strobing lights I had no choice but to watch as Cody’s stiffening body was elevated from the hallway floor.

     He appeared to be engulfed by a halo of what I can only describe as heat. It was likened unto the visible distortion seen on the horizon as the earth’s warmth rises from the scorching desert floor. Comparable to the waving and transparent vapor lifting from a long-stretched blacktopped roadway in the dead of summer’s heat. There were no discernable shadows, no dependable form, no image found within the grasp of human reality or vibrant imagination. It flowed as liquid, encircling Cody as to taunt him, all the while, teasing the onlookers.

     His arms extended from his side, paralleling the blood-soaked concrete floor beneath him. Though unable to speak, to move, to fight, to scream, I felt as if the distance between us could not mask the fear and pleas for help buried deep within his enlarged eyes.

     His body slowly, almost elegantly, began to spin. His feet suspended above the floor.

     Slowly, slowly, he involuntarily spun as a tiny plastic ballet dancer fastened atop a child’s music box. It was as if the visiting presence was mocking us - displaying Cody before an audience prior to his demise.

     With everything in me I attempted to break free from my frozen state. It was of no use. Tears formed in the corners of my eyes as I was forced to witness what was to be the sure end of my coworker, my comrade, my friend.

     The malevolent pirouetting of Cody’s body came to a pause as his back soon faced me. His legs began to separate from one another. Further. Further.

     The snapping sound of his hips dislocating echoed throughout the hallway as his legs approached the corresponding angle as were his outstretched arms. His head began to turn as if to look over his shoulder toward me exposing desperate, silent, pleas for help. There, it did not stop. Continuing to twist atop his shoulders, the movement of his head only ceased once his face and eyes were staring directly at me. One-hundred-eighty degrees.

     Whether he was still alive or not at this point, I do not know. I hope not. I pray not. Staring into his widened eyes through blurry lens, it was difficult to tell.

     With a power and ferocity, I shudder to ever give witness to again, Cody’s appendages were rapidly and sequentially torn from his torso - his eyes unblinking.

     His arms and legs slammed hard against the neighboring cinder block walls. His body crumbled to the floor sounding a wet and wincing thud.

    My mind generated another plea directed toward a God I wished I’d better known – Please. Please, help us!

Chapter – Fourteen

     The release of Cody’s torso from its suspended state crumbling to the floor simultaneously signaled the release of the other-worldly grip embracing us all. Gasping for air, I could hear Laura and Jesse behind me concurrently and desperately seeking the surrounding air of which our lungs were imploring.

     Laura began to cry uncontrollably as Jesse began to curse loudly in a terror-stricken panic. He began beating on the courtyard door and screaming for help from an outside world, a world without ears to hear.

     David sat silently.

     Peggy smiled.

     I hurried past Laura pausing briefly to place my hand upon her shoulder in a feeble attempt to provide some sense of comfort within the midst of horror we dwelled.

     Static prefaced infused words from the radio speaker. “Craig! Can you hear me? Can you hear me?”

     Ignoring the call, I entered David’s bedroom.

     “David!” Anger raged as I entered his room.   “David!” Again, I yelled as I made my way to stand directly before his glassy eyes peering from the window of his hood. “What do you know about this? Do you know what’s going on? What is this Fantasma you keep talking about?”

     An extended and frightful pause filled the air as David’s head adjusted to the sound of my voice. His eyes suddenly seemed to focus upon me, no longer looking through me.

     “Fantasma, you ask?” His blackened eyes squint producing furrows to both sides of his face. Creases assumingly created by a hidden and malevolent grin; a smile supplemented by a sinister chuckle. “I think you already know who Fantasma is.” By the guise of what exposed face I could see, his smile broadened. “You have already met Fantasma. Fantasma is your friend.”

     “Craig!” Again, the radio crackled. “Can you hear me?”

     I pulled the radio from my side whilst continuing eye contact with David. “Yes, I - I can hear you!”

     “Good. We are trying to help you. Just hold on.” The words did not bring with them any pacification concerning the situation we were in.

     “Please do.” I pleaded. “We desperately need to get out of here. Whatever is going on in here, happened again. Cody is gone.” My voice cracked as my mind’s eye pictured Cody’s body being rent to shreds with forced witness.

     “Hang in there, Craig. We’re doing all we can my friend. We are going to help you.”

     Without warning, Jesse burst into David’s room. Pressing by me with convincing shoulder-to-shoulder contact. Knocking me off balance, he began punching David on his cloaked face.

     “Jesse!” I shouted dropping the radio to the floor and regaining my stance. “Jesse! Stop!” Laura rushed to my side. Collectively and with much effort, we were able to pin Jesse to the floor as his burst of rage-infused energy mercifully depleted.

     “I’ll kill him!” Jesse screamed. “I’ll kill him! Let me go!” Tears grew within the corner of his eyes.

     Utilizing all the strength Laura and I could muster, we continued to hold Jesse to the floor until his body ultimately fell limp with exhaustion. He began to cry.

     “I’ll kill him. Let me kill him. Please, let me kill him.” His words transformed from statements of anger to desperate implorations. “Please.” His body shook and heaved with frightened lamentation.

     David, rising from the supine position atop the bed in which Jesse forced him, evenly and calmly arose to his familiar seated position. He began to sound a grim laughter as if manifested from the depths of Hell itself.

     He pulled tighter the drawstrings of his hood to reform the oval-shaped pane from which he typically glared. He began to whisper, “Fantasma. Fantasma.”

     His whispers steadily decreased to a silent mouthing of the words until alas, his lips too, ceased their movement.

     Jesse, now calmed with fear-driven debilitation, sat leaned with his back against the wall. With head pressed into the cup of his arm, he wept as a scolded and frightened child.

Chapter – Fifteen

     The soft humming faded into the distance as Peggy, unattended due to Laura’s much needed and appreciated assistance with Jesse, nonchalantly made her way through the hallway towards the fire doors. Occasionally she stopped and knelt, retrieving a hand, an arm, a finger, as if carefully and delightfully picking flowers on a warm summer’s day.

     “Peggy.” I called in whisper. “Peggy. Please, come back to us.”  She was about two-thirds the length of the hallway from our position.

     “Peggy.” Laura beckoned with matching volume. “Peggy, please come back this way. Come to me, Peggy.”

     Peggy turned and smiled as she placed an unrecognizable piece of flesh to her nose and breathed deeply as if soaking up the fragrance of a dew-laced rose, fully bloomed.

     Laura fanned her hand in the air motioning Peggy to return.

     Peggy, a smile stretched blissfully across her face, questioned. “Is she here?”

     “Uh, yeah. I – I think so. I think she is.” Laura struggled to find the words which would compel Peggy to return to the courtyard door we nervously crowded; an end of the hallway of which presented no greater sense of security than where she currently stood.

     There was no safe place to be on this night; no square inch known on Ward Two which could provide a sense of comfort. Every void was filled with unbridled dread and vulnerability. Safety felt as nothing more than a hope…a thread of hope…frayed and just beyond reach as one’s fingertips would only be allowed to feel, hope for, but never fully grasp.

     Laura stood and momentarily faced the snow-glistened glass of the courtyard door. “Come look Peggy.” Laura motioned with a glance over her shoulder. “I think I see Alice.”

     “Alice?” Peggy asked with excitement.

     “I think so. Come and see.”

     Laura always maintained honesty with our patients. If she told a patient she would do something for them, she did. However, as Peggy nonchalantly trekked down the murderous hallway, Laura thought it best to say whatever it may take to bring her back to us.

     “I knew she would be here soon.” Peggy smiled as she stepped over a blood-drenched mat of long brown hair torn from the skull of one, unknown.

     As Peggy made her way toward us, carefully avoiding the anatomy littering the tile floor, she once again began to hum – Swinging on a Star.

     Peggy’s humming of that, which once emitted a sense of relaxation to all those within earshot, on this night, produced an eerie reverberation, a resonance still very present in my mind to this day.

     “Where is she?” Peggy asked as her bloody fingers sketched trails of blood on the courtyard door’s pane. “Do you see her?”

     “I’m sorry, Peggy.” Laura deceitfully responded. “I guess I was wrong. I thought it was her but I guess it wasn’t.”

     Laura swallowed the expanding lump in her throat as she directed Peggy to discard her ‘flowers’ into the corner by the door. Peggy released the bottom of her apron allowing the contents to nauseatingly spill onto the floor.

     Oh, that’s alright.” Peggy smiled. “She will be here soon and then we will go to the store.”

     Peggy took Laura’s hand. Laura cringed as Peggy’s warm blood-soaked palm joined hers. “Roy will be home from the war soon. We need to have supper ready when he gets here.”

     “Yes.” Laura responded with a swallow. “And I’m sure Alice will be soon on her way as well.”

Chapter – Sixteen

     My head burned with pain.

     We all gathered within David’s room, door slightly ajar. Jesse continued to sit on the floor with his back to the wall diligently monitoring David’s every yet slightest of movement. Laura and I sat side by side on the empty bed closest to the door, Peggy next to Laura.

     Laura’s leg bobbed with nervous energy absorbed by the bed’s mattress, following suit. We sat silently staring through the modest opening of the door leading into the hallway.

     I sat with a loss of words.

     I sat with a loss of understanding.

     I sat with a loss of knowing what to do.

     In combat, quick, and decisive actions were vital to one’s survival. Within mere fractions of a second decisions must be made regarding recognition of a potential threat and subsequent actions needed to eliminate said threat.

     A soldier’s charge to protect self and those fighting along his side consisted of bravery, courage, determination, decisiveness, and action – destroy anything located within the field of fire with hopes of making it home.

     But this, this was different. I had no sense who our enemy was. I had no concept of how to defend our position and return fire. I had no understanding of how to protect myself much less, those under my command.

     The enemy we faced, had no face. It had no established motive or aim. It seemed to have no weakness, no limits.

     How does one fight an adversary, unseen; an opponent who held the power to overwhelm, retain, and rip to shreds a human being within a matter of seconds?

     What had they seen that I could not? My mind again returned to gaze upon the terror-stricken expressions frozen upon the faces of the victims of this invisible monster. Is there one? Many? My body shuddered. The small hairs on my neck and arms stood erect. Is it here? In this room? With us now? Is it watching and waiting for a particular moment in which to attack? My head turned, following the leading of my eyes; I dreadfully scanned the room.

     My brain sought to locate a safe place in which to hide. I eagerly desired to crawl under the bed on which I sat and squeeze my eyes tightly shut with hopes that this was nothing more than a bad dream, a terrible nightmare of which I would soon awake.

     An overwhelming sense of self-preservation beckoned me to disregard those around me and vainly save myself. However, this internal begging and pleading would need to remain suppressed.

     Conceived with a protector’s mindset, born from my mother’s womb, I was framed to protect others; those less able. This value was strongly reenforced throughout my military service. Whether in combat or now, I could not, I would not, leave no one behind.

     As a young child I would often stand toe-to-toe with others much larger than I to protect my younger sister from schoolyard bullies. Granted, many of these protective stances were due to my sister’s boisterous announcement that her big brother would ‘whoop’ anyone who messed with her. Therefore, many of the brawls in which I found myself engaged could have been avoided had it not been for her inability to remain silent.

    My father instilled in me at a young age that men protect – “It’s what we do” he would coach.

     Having never before retreated when staring into the face of danger, this night would need to be no different. I determined I would stand in the gap, in the face of evil, to protect those of us remaining on Ward Two within Docket’s Lunatic Asylum, even if that stance meant my life.

     I placed my hand on Laura’s jumping knee. “I have to get to the medication room.” I stated.

     “Why?” Her eyes widened with sudden panic.

     “We are in this room with nothing.” I began to explain. “We have nothing to fight with, nothing to defend ourselves with. We are sitting ducks and I don’t like it. I need to get to the medication room and see what I can find.”

     “I’m tired.” Peggy announced with a yawn and rub of her eyes.

     “Uh, here you go Peggy.” Laura replied as we both stood from the bed. “Lean back here and go to sleep. I will cover you up.”

     “Thank you, sweetheart.” Peggy replied. “You will wake me when Alice arrives won’t you, dear?”

     “I sure will.” Laura smiled as she covered her with the blanket.

     Our standing grabbed Jesse’s attention as he looked our direction. “Where are you two going?”

     “Laura’s not going anywhere.” I stated, locking eyes with Laura. “I’m going to find something we can use to defend ourselves.”

     “Where?” Jesse stood and joined us.

     “The medication room.” I responded. “Maybe the common area. I don’t know.”

     “We don’t even know who or what we’re fighting against.” He injected.

“Fantasma.” David whispered with a trailing chuckle.

     “Shut up!” Jesse directed. “Nobody wants to hear that crap, so just shut up before I…!”

     “Jesse.” I regained his attention. “We have to keep it together. Ignore him. We have more important things to do than pick a fight with each other.”

     Jesse nodded with reluctant agreeance, lobbing one more glare toward David, now silent.   

     “We can’t just sit here empty handed. We have to at least try.” I continued.

     “You’re going by yourself?”  Jesse questioned.

     “I am.”

     I walked to the door and slowly pushed it further open. I keyed the radio. “Can anyone hear me?” I whispered.

     “Yes, Craig. We can hear you. Are you okay?”

     With a moment of pause, I considered the question – Am I okay?

     No, I’m not okay. I’m not okay at all. My mind replied.

     I pressed the button. “Couldn’t be better.”

     “Craig.” The radio distorted with a familiar voice. “This is Doctor Whitt. We are going to get through this. You are going to get through this. I am right here with you.”

     “Okay.” I replied with internal question. What’s she going to do that security can’t? The more the merrier, I suppose! “Thank you, doctor.”

     “This will all be over soon, my friend.”

     “I sure hope so.” I replied as I hooked the radio to my side.

     “I would appreciate a lookout.” I spoke in Laura’s direction.

     “Okay. Craig. I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all.”

     “Just yell out if you see anything.” I stated while ignoring her legitimate but concurred concern. “Anything.” I stressed.

     “I will.”

     I pointed toward David sitting at the foot of his bed. “Jesse.”

     “What?”

     “Just ignore it, okay.”

     “I’ll try.” He stated with a gruff.

     Peering down the hallway, I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, slowly.

     Turning to Laura, I smiled and winked. “I’ll be right back.”

Chapter – Seventeen

     Never on the battlefield had I beheld such grotesqueness as I made my way toward the end of the hallway. The soles of my shoes squeaked as I trekked through pooling blood, unavoidable.

     Halfway there, I turned to see Laura and Jesse’s heads peering from the bedroom door in silent desperation of my return. Again, I gave a reassuring smile…for them…not me. I was never so unsure of anything in my life as I was at that moment.

     Stepping across a leg donning a blood-soaked sock slipped half over its attached foot, I looked toward Brianna, her lower torso solely visible. My lips tightened with a blend of sadness and repugnance.

     My forward momentum was slow and methodical. I struggled to avoid stepping on or tripping over what human anatomy I could.

     Just short of reaching the medication room door, I retrieved the keys from my pocket. Turning the lock, I entered the room and began searching for something, anything, which would produce some sense of protection as futile as it seemed considering the opponent we faced.

     Anything I deemed usable to protect, defend, or aide, I collected:

     Bandage scissors – stab and slice.

     Flashlight – visibility.

     Broom – swing, strike and thrust.

     Roll of tape and bandages – restrain and bind.

     All items were placed into a black plastic trash bag and gripped tightly within my hand. Briefly pausing before exiting the door, I picked up a stapler, held it in my hand and made a fist. That’ll work. I thought as I struck my right thigh.

     Opening the door and slowly stepping from the medication room, I did a quick visual check on Laura, still watching. I held up my index finger signifying I would be just another minute longer. Laura shook her head No and began waving me toward her and Jesse. I motioned toward the common area alerting my intent. The fire door closed behind me, concealing my presence.

     Glancing to my left, I could see security staff waving at me and mouthing something I could not make out. They were still working on gaining entrance to the ward. Doctor Whitt also stood among them holding praying hands to her mouth as I came into view.

     Keep trying. First pointing at my chest, I then indicated the direction in which I was heading – the nurse’s station to retrieve what other items of use I may find.

     As quietly as able, I began rummaging through the cabinet and desk doors and drawers seeking anything that might be of assistance to us until rescue might come to the ward.

     The removal of the telephone from its receiver revealed the absence of a dial tone.

     Closing one desk drawer, I side-stepped and began to open another.

     My scalp tightened. The lights began to flicker.

     “No…” My scream halted as my body stiffened with shudder. From the hallway, I heard Jesse begin to curse and yell. “No! No! Help me! Get off me!” His was the only voice I could discern.

     Nausea raced up and down marching a fast and relentless pace from my stomach to my throat. Intense pain exploded through my temples; my vision blurred. Paralyzed, I could only stand with my rigid hand locked near the handle of the drawer of which I intended to lay hold just a moment prior.

     Jesse’s cries of anguish grew louder and louder.

     The fire doors swung open with a commanding force, slamming hard against the walls. A cold burst of air rushed across my body. Jesse’s cursing and frantic pleas for help filled the common area as he was being dragged across the floor in front of the desk – kicking and clawing to no avail.

     My eyes tracked his movement as he passed before me. He seemed to be clutched by an unseen hand; a malevolence gripped firmly around his neck, ruthlessly pulling him backwards in a sitting position. Our eyes locked as the fire doors leading into the female’s hallway flung open with an equal force as the others. Terror shone brilliantly from Jesse’s face as he was paraded against will past the nurse’s station before me. He disappeared. The doors returned to their former closed position.

     It seemed the hands of time stopped as I listened to Jesse scream, plea, grunt, and then…fall silent.

     Unwillingly incarcerated within a state of motionlessness, I stared at the fire doors which concealed Jesse’s fate. It was difficult to focus as the pain, flickering lights, and internal vibration produced only a blurred picture of a gruesome reality.

     The doors again swung open with unrivaled might as the same icy wind swept and swirled throughout the common area. They waited wide on their hinges as if now being held in position against the cinderblock walls. Then, there was what I can only describe as a violent detonation of blood and human anatomy as Jesse’s remains erupted into the common area as a volcano no longer able to deny the deep-embedded molten lava insisting release. My eyes blurred and burned as spatters of warm blood marked my face.

     Entering my view with a spine-tingling thud was Jesse’s decapitated head as it rolled through the doorway and came to rest, facing me; eyes and mouth eternally fixed; gaped wide with terror.

     The lights within the ward ceased to flicker as the common area began illuminating with intensive and increasing brightness. The bulbs simultaneously burst with brilliant explosions of flame unleashing a shroud of darkness upon The Ridge.

     My body fell limp as it was released from the overpowering grasp of an unknown. My head resonated with pain.

     I felt within the plastic bag still gripped tightly with my hand and pulled from it the flashlight. The beam of light danced around the room as I began to make my way quickly and frantically toward Laura.

     Passing the entrance doors, the juddering beam of light reveal the now absence of security and Doctor Whitt.

     Fearful wonder filled my mind. Had they met the same fate as Jesse? Had they fled in fear attempting to escape the witnessed demise of those before?

     Pushing open the fire doors, the beam of light distantly illuminated the now vacant bedroom doorway at which I had last seen Laura. Immediately thinking the worst, I was relieved to make out sobs coming from the end of the hall.

     “Laura!” I shouted as I ran toward the room, dodging and jumping along the way. “Laura!”

     Nearing the door, I was startled as Laura burst from the room in frantic tears nearly driving us both to the floor. She fell to her knees clinging tightly to my waist.

     “Craig!” She cried. “Help me! Please, help me!”

     Her appeals pierced the inner most part of my soul. As a man, I wanted to help her. I wanted to save her. But I did not know how. I did not know how to fight this thing…this being…this entity…this monster…this demon.

     I dropped the trash bag of items I had gathered - useless - and pulled Laura to her feet hugging her tightly. No words of comfort or reassurance could be discovered. Tears fell from our eyes.

Chapter – Eighteen

     Jesse’s screams had awakened Peggy who now stood within the doorway. “Was that Alice?” She questioned.

     “Uh,” I wiped escaping tears from my eyes as I answered from over Laura’s shoulder. “No, Peggy. Alice isn’t here.”

     “You two look so lovely.” She stated as I briefly tightened my arms around Laura before releasing our embrace. “I miss my Roy. I cannot wait to see him. He should be home soon, you know.”

     Peggy turned to sit on the bed; she began to hum.

     “What are we going to do, Craig?” Laura asked.

     “I don’t know, Laura. I need a minute to think.”

     “J-Jesse.” She stuttered. “It just took him.”

     “Did you see anything?” I asked while leading her back into David’s room. He continued seated on his bed, hood drawn tightly. “Anything?”

     “No. It was like…” Her words labored to form upon her lips. “It just…it just took him. There was nothing I could do. I wanted to hold on to him but…I couldn’t. I couldn’t move, Craig.”

     “I know.” I ineffectually consoled. “It’s not your fault.” With my leading, Laura sat next to Peggy on the bed.

     The radio, discarded near the courtyard door during Laura’s futile attempt to save Jesse from Death’s grip, crackled. “Craig, Craig, can you hear me?”

     Mustering what little courage I had, I rushed to retrieve it then, back into the room, scooping up the trash bag along the way. Shutting the door behind me, I replied. “Yes. Yes, I can hear you.” My knees weakened as I leaned backward against the door, sliding downward to meet the floor.

     “This is Doctor Whitt, Craig.” The doctor’s tone carried a subtle sense of calmness within our chaotic situation.

     “Doctor Whitt,” I questioned. “Are you okay?”

     “I’m fine, Craig.” She replied. “It’s you I am worried about.”

     “Me too.” I replied. “We need help. We need to get out of here.”

     “Who is we?” Her voice transformed to confusion.

     “Me, Laura, Peggy, and David. We are the only ones left.” I replied. “The rest are…they are…they’re…they’re gone.” My head dropped as the vocalization of this reality pulled from me the adrenaline on which I had been surviving. They are all dead. I repeated in thought.

     The hand holding the radio slowly descended, resting atop my thigh.

     The pause of reality I entered was not an unfamiliar place for me. There were times during my combat service that we were forced to survive on sheer will, instinct, and adrenaline. There was little-to-no time allotted in which to allow the realism of your surroundings to sink in.

     Hours, even days, would pass before a quiet moment could be found as to reflect on the events and experiences undergone.

     A moment to retrieve cerebral snapshots of those of whom you stood in arms, side by side, and then watched as they fell lifeless before the enemy’s stronghold. Your buddy’s screams, briefly muted by the almost continuously streaming pleas for help from others, would suddenly beat loudly upon the drums of your ears.

     A moment, a pause, to question, why?

     Why must they die and I live?

     Why must theirs be the families chosen to forever suffer the loss of a son, brother, uncle, or spouse? Why was it them...and not me?

     What should I have done, what could I have done, differently so they may have lived?

     During situations of high cognitive pressure and physical exhaustion, there are many images, sounds, and questions immediately filed within the mind’s catalogue, drawer shut, as the next objective must be achieved; only retrieved and reviewed during a moment of pause.  This was one of those moments.

     “Well.” Doctor Whitt’s static-laced words sounded of a dismissive nature. “I just need you to hang on, my friend. We are going to bring you out of this, I promise.”

     Shaken from myself, I returned the radio to my lips. “Hurry. Please. Please, hurry.”

     The radio fell silent.

Chapter – Nineteen

     The flashlight yielded a dance of shadows throughout the room. They seemed to swing and sway to Peggy’s soft humming as if a supernatural ballroom banquet were underway.

     “I think we need to get off of this hall.” I stated.

     “But…” Laura’s voice cracked with fear-laced reservation.

     “I know Laura.” The beam of light lit her face. Tears glistened from the corners of her eyes. “But we can’t stay here. Maybe if we can at least get to the others at the entrance door, we can all work together and somehow figure out a way to get out of here.”

     “What if we don’t make it?” Laura questioned. “What if the same thing that happened to the others happens to us?”

     “I don’t know what else to do Laura. I just know that if we stay here, we are all going to die.”

     I truly did not know what to do. Escape through the courtyard was out of the question. To stay on that hall, in that room, was out of the question. We had to at least try, even if trying meant our lives.

     I walked to David and stood before him. “David.”

     No response.

     “David.” I stated louder.

     No response.

     Placing my hands upon his shoulders, I shook him hard and shouted. “David!”

     His hollow eyes shifted toward the direction of my voice as if he had only heard his name at that moment…for the first time. His head cocked slightly to the left as his fingers curled around the bottom part of the hood’s opening, hiding his face. I could hear a muffled giggle as he slowly, purposefully, pulled the opening downward revealing his nose and then, mouth – smiling.

     Pausing, he whispered. “Fantasma.”

     Trailing laughter reverberated off the walls of my inner most being.

     “Is this Fantasma here?” My throat jumped as I involuntarily swallowed. “Is Fantasma doing this?”

     “Oh, yes.” He replied. “Fantasma is here. Fantasma has always been here.”

     His words induced a shudder which coursed over my body. The fine hairs on the back of my neck stood to attention as my knees further weakened. His words transformed into a reality that in recent past had been dismissed as mere delusion. For explanations unbeknownst to me, Fantasma suddenly became very real.

     Fantasma, whatever or whoever, it was, became much more than hallucination concocted from the mind of the deranged. I had seen with my own eyes the works of this Fantasma as patients, staff…my friends…were twisted and torn to shreds before me. I have looked into the widened eyes of victims as they at last had seen the unseen - Fantasma.

     “Can we kill it?” I asked as David unexpectedly pulled the hood from his head. “Can it be defeated?”

     David shifted to the side of the bed and stood. He felt with his right hand the mattress then the footboard, trailing a path which ended directly before me. “No one can kill Fantasma.” He grinned.

     He progressed forward forcing me, with little effort in my current state of exhaustive shock, to step aside. His outstretched hand felt the air before him as he placed one foot in front of the other.

     “David?” I questioned.

     Laura prompted and assisted Peggy to scoot further toward the head of the bed on which they sat, creating as much distance as possible between David and themselves. “David? Where are you going?”

     “I must go. Fantasma is calling.”

     The beam from the flashlight encircled his back as he exited the doorway and turned right, toward the fire doors.

     “Craig?” Laura, shielding an unphased and humming Peggy, looked at me with troubled disbelief.

     I shrugged my shoulders in concurrence and leaned through the doorway, shining the light on David as he continued his trek into the unknown.

     A cold wind rushed from the long end of the hallway bringing with it the paralyzing wave of nausea and vibration as before. Unable to move, I could only blurrily stare at the end of the flashlight beam trained upon David. No! My mind screamed. No!

     “Fantasma. Fantasma. Fantasma.” Seemingly impervious to the imprisoning force of which I was captive, David continued his march as the volume of his voice increased with each repeating of the word. His monotone verbiage began transforming into laughter as he continued. “Fantasma. Fantasma.”

     Reaching near scream, he stopped and turned toward me. His arms abandoned his sides as he lifted them to parallel the floor. The fingers on each of his hands spread wide, palms facing me. His head tilted back as his sightless eyes met the ceiling. “Fantasma! Friend to none!”

     As the last syllable crossed his smiling lips, David was rent in two before my eyes. As if an invisible axe head had fallen from the heavens, from his head to his groin, his body violently split in half. Blood burst forth as his entrails spilled to the floor with a soggy gush.

     His right half bounced off the wall, twisting forward and sounding a wet splash as it greeted the concrete floor. His left, momentarily paused in time, balancing itself upright just before his knee gave way and crumpled to the blood-pooled floor.

     The cinder block walls repeated his final word, ‘none’, as it jumped from wall to wall, denoting a hellish punctuation to emphasize the moment.

     My eyes burned. My head ached. My muscles tensed. Then…release.

     Laura screamed.

     Regaining composure, I turned back into the room just in time to grab hold of a frantic and fleeing Laura. Her screams filled my ears as she began to fight for release to exit the doorway.

     “Laura!” I yelled. “Laura, stop! Stop!”

     “I can’t take it anymore! I have to get out of here!” She shrieked.

     The flashlight beam waved frantically within the room as it fell from my hand. I managed to kick the door closed behind me and wrestle her to the mattress on which Peggy sat and smiled. “Laura!” I continued to plea. “Stop! Please! Stop!”

     I held tightly around her upper arms in a bear hug as her energy began to deplete. Her words became nearly unintelligible as they formed from within sobs of panic and desperation.

     “Laura.” I quieted my voice. “Stop, Laura. Stop.”

     Her body relaxed. I let go. She rolled to her side in a fetal position and wept loudly.

     Peggy, illuminated in the soft white glow of the fallen flashlight, began to stroke Laura’s hair. “Poor thing.”  She comforted. “You can go with me and Alice to the store if you want. She’ll be here soon. That should make you feel better.”

     I stood to my feet and grasped my head as sharp and nagging pain bent my vision. I retrieved the dropped flashlight and pulled the radio from my side.

     “Can anyone hear me?” I whispered.

     “We can hear you, Craig.” Doctor Whitt’s voice came as a surprise, a somewhat comforting surprise. “Can you hear me?”

     “I can. I – I need you to do something for me.”

     “What is it, Craig?”

     Despite the blood. Despite Laura’s frantic screams. Despite the gore. Despite the unexplained. Despite the terror. The only person I could think of was my wife. I tried desperately to recall the last words we spoke. Did I tell her I love her? Does she know how much I love her?

     “If I don’t make it out of this.” I continued. “I want you to tell my wife that…tell her that I said, I love you. Say you will do that for me.”

     “You are going to make it out of this.” The radio crackled as Doctor Whitt spoke. “You can talk to your wife later. Right now, we need to focus on helping you. We need to finish up.”

     “Finish up?” I asked with confusion. “What do you mean?”

     “You just hold on, Craig.” She replied. “This will be over soon my friend.”

     “Craig.” Laura placed her hand on my arm. “I need them to let my son know, too.”

     “Know?” I asked.

     “That mommy loves him.”

     Staring into one another’s eyes, my heart sank at her words. With a nod of my head and a genuine understanding between our realizations that we may not survive this night, I neared the radio to my lips. “Doctor Whitt?”

     “Yes, Craig. I’m here.”

     “Laura needs you to tell her little boy that she loves him.”

     “Craig?” Doctor Whitt replied with question.

     “Yes?”

     “Who is Laura?”

Chapter – Twenty

     “Are you ready?” I squeezed Laura’s hand while peering down the hallway.

     “I – I think so.” She replied before looking over her shoulder at Peggy. “Peggy, are you ready?”

     Peggy smiled. “Of course, my dear. There is so much I need to do.” She began to hum.

    I repositioned Laura’s tightly gripped fingers from my hand to the tail of my shirt. “Hold on tight.” I whispered. “Whatever you do, do not let go.”

     Somewhat crouching as if to go undetected, Laura, Peggy, and I began making our way toward the fire doors. Our plan was to make it to the entrance door of the ward and attempt to assist those on the other side in releasing us from the hell in which we were enslaved.

     The flashlight beam scanned from side to side. Slowly, we snaked our way across a crimson floor littered with shredded muscle, torn tendons, bloody mats of hair, limbs, and heads – some, intact – some, not.

     The eyes of the deceased seem to track our movement as if waiting for our accompaniment on the cold floor.

     An audible whimper fell from Laura’s closed lips as Brianna, then Cody, came into view.

     “Shhh,” I sounded toward Laura with index finger to my lips – scissors retrieved from the medication room gripped to a white-knuckled torque.

     Thank God. I thought as we reached the doors.

     The second verse to Swinging on a Star began as I pushed through the doorway with my shoulder.

     Entering the common area brought with it a sense of accomplishment, a sense of relief. Pointing the beam of light toward the entrance door, I quickened our pace nearly causing Laura to lose grip of my shirt tail.

     Gathering at the base of the door onto the floor, I maneuvered myself as to place Peggy and Laura into the corner, myself in front, as to shield them from any new attack. This protective positioning was more of instinct than reality considering the supernatural force we faced.

     “Shhh.” I again sounded as Peggy nodded with a smile; never breaking the stanza of her song. I shook my head subtly. Just leave it be. I thought.

     Taking a moment to scan our surroundings, I turned on one knee and raised myself to look through the small, translucent opening of the entrance door. With question, I shined the flashlight through the opening. “What the…” I befuddled.

     “What is it, Craig?” Laura asked as she tugged on my shirt.

     “It’s -” I twisted and turned the flashlight, pressing it hard against the Plexiglas. “It’s nothing.”

     “What do you mean?”

     “They’re gone.” I informed as I returned to a seated position on the floor. “No one is there.”

     “Maybe they went to get a tool or something.” Laura responded. “Something to open the doors.”

     “Maybe.” I questionably agreed placing the radio to my lips.

     “Security, this is Craig. Security, this is Craig. Can you hear me? Doctor Whitt? Anyone?”

     Static snapped through the speakers as I released the button awaiting response.

     Silence.

     “Security, this is Craig. Can you hear me?”

     Laura began speaking in prayerful repetition, “Please, answer. Please, answer. Please, answer.”

     “Security…Doctor Whitt…this is Craig. Can you hear me? Can anyone hear me?”

     “Craig.” the radio sprang to life to our startled and relieved surprise. “Yes. Thank God. I can hear you.”

     “Where did you go?” I asked. “We thought you all had left us.”

     “What do you mean, Craig?” Doctor Whitt’s voice perplexed.

     “I mean, we thought you all had left us.” I rose again to one knee and began shining the flashlight through the Plexiglas. “We are at the entrance doors. Where did everyone go?”

     “We haven’t left you, Craig.” The confusion lacing her voice remained - increased. “We are all right here. We are here to help you, my friend. There is no need for you to worry.”

     “What are they talking about?” Laura questioned.

     I looked at her and shook my head with a slight grin as if to say, they’re messing with us.

     “Don’t worry, Laura. It’s okay,” I patted the top of Laura’s hand now grasping my ankle. “They must be at the wrong door or something. Maybe they got turned around when the lights went out.”

     “Alright, Doctor Whitt.” Mockery filled my utterance. “I don’t know where you are but you sure aren’t where I’m looking. I don’t see you. I don’t see anyone. We are right here at the entrance doors.”

     “Of course, you can’t see us, my friend. I wouldn’t expect that.” Doctor Whitt replied. “You cannot see us because your eyes are covered.”

     What? I silently questioned as her statement pulled my attention toward Laura’s nonverbal response – eyebrows dropped; forehead furrowed.

     My eyes strained to see through the plexiglass - nothing. I rubbed my eyes and looked again, harder – still, nothing.

     I resumed my seated position and scanned the common area with the flashlight. “This is no time to be playing games, Doctor Whitt.” My thumb pressed hard on the button of the radio. “We need to ge…”

     Doctor Whitt interrupted. “I can assure you that no one here is playing games with you, Craig. What we are doing is very serious. Things have not gone as we had hoped but soon it will all be over.”

     “Where are you?” I asked with anger.

     “I told you, Craig. We are right here.”

     I jumped to my feet and lit the area on the other side of the door. “You are not right here!” My voice screeched. “I’m looking right here, and you are not right here! No one is right here doctor!”

     I struck the Plexiglas with the face of the flashlight. “You are not right here so stop saying that!

     “I need you to relax.” Her voice persisted calm and composed. “We are going to try this again, okay?”

     “Try what again?” I struck the door again as Laura released a hopeless sob. “Do you have something to do with this? What do you mean you’re going to try again? Try what again?”

     “Are you ready?” Doctor Whitt’s voice penetrated the white noise of the radio speaker.

“In three…

two…

one…”

Chapter Twenty-One

     As Doctor Whitt reached the number ‘one’, intact lights on the ward sprang back to life and began to flash. My face contorted as pain shot through my body creating a stiffened paralysis. My body stiffened and fell backwards to the floor in the same way as would a criminal being engaged with one of those new taser guns police officers were utilizing as a ‘less-than-lethal’ option.

     My head struck the unforgiving tile as nausea gripped my stomach. The moisture in my mouth evaporated. I could not swallow. I could barely breathe.

     My vision blurred as my pupils constricted and my eyes wildly danced within their sockets. I could hardly make out Laura as her arms folded into her chest and her head cocked to the side in such a way that her ear was touching her shoulder. I wanted to reach for her but couldn’t.

     Concealed behind Laura’s contorted frame, I could hear as Peggy’s humming refused to squander.

     My jaws clenched. My teeth pressed on one another so tightly I was sure they would splinter.

     A cold wind swirled among us giving lift to Laura’s hair as it danced and flowed with the strobing of the lights.

     Just as it began…it ended - suddenly. Laura’s body relaxed. Her head returned to a neutral position; her arms fell to her thighs.

    She looked directly at me before placing her hands on the floor and pushing her way to a standing position. She took a step forward and bent at the waist above me. Her eyes, fixed upon mine, suddenly took on a darkened sheen of death.

     Her stare turned blank, terrifying. Her bottom jaw slowly opened, stretching the limits of their sockets until a familiar and permanent pause occurred.

     She then straightened her back, turned toward the entrance doors. With a step forward, she closed the distance and began violently slamming her head against the metal.

     Blood spattered as the force of each blow surpassed the former. A crimson flow ran downward on the door as she struck it with such force it seemed as if her skull would cave.

     Again and again, over and over, she brutally and purposely slammed her head against the grey painted steel.

     Stop, please. My soundless petitions turned to internal sobs as I watched this young and beautiful woman, a mother of one, perform such suicidal action.

     With what seemed to last an eternity, bone sadistically met metal. Laura abruptly terminated her morbid deed and sharply turned facing toward the common area. Her dead eyes were fixed straight ahead; the expression on her face fixed as well – mouth gaping.

     Suddenly, she released a spine-tingling scream and surged forward as a sprinter, feet set firmly upon the starting blocks, anticipating the sounding of the gun.

     The sound of her voice dissipated with the growing distance between us. I could tell with blind but certain surety that Laura ran quickly onto the female’s hallway.

     Distant thumps began to sound as her muffled screams continued to trace their steps back to Peggy and I. Then…it stopped. Silence once again fell upon the ward.

     Silence - excluding the continued rendition of Swinging on a Star, softly hummed.

Chapter – Twenty-Two

    Stabbing pain entered my eyes and temples. I gasped for air and began to cough. Wiping saliva from my cheek, I pressed closer against the entrance door window, radio in hand.

     “Doctor Whitt!” I demanded. Doctor Whitt!”

     “Yes, Craig. I’m right here.” The peace emitting from her voice was unsettling. “Can you hear me?”

     “Yes, I can hear you. What is going on?” I insisted. “Where are you? Where is security?”

     “Try to relax.” She evenly replied. “Everything is going to be fine.”

     “Nothing is fine!” I shouted with squinting eyes peering through the Plexiglas; my face pressed firmly to the door. “Nothing is fine!”

     I felt as if I wanted to explode. I wanted to run. I wanted to fight. I wanted to hide. I wanted to die.

     Everyone on the ward was gone. Everyone, excluding Peggy who remained unaffected by the events - still humming as if nothing had occurred.

     I began clawing, hitting, and kicking the door. “Help!” I continued to scream through the sound suppressing door. Help!”

     “We’re right here, Craig.” Doctor Whitt stated. “Try to remain calm my friend. We are almost finished. You have done well.”

     “What are you talking about?” Her words stole from me all remaining energy. I turned my back to the door and slid downward to sit; my legs stretched before me. “What are you talking about?” My shouts trailed to a weakened whisper.

     As my head hung low, chin to chest, I abandoned all attempts to remove myself from the situation. For the first time in my life, I simply quit.

     I failed Anthony. I failed Sue. I failed Brianna. I failed Cody. I failed Laura. I failed all patients under my charge. And now, I concluded, I would fail myself.

     I’m sorry. I thought of my wife.

     I’m sorry. I thought of my coworkers and their families.

     I’m sorry. I thought of the patients.

     I’m sorry. I thought of myself.

     Peggy stood to her feet and began walking toward the common area. “Peggy, don’t.” My words, void of urgency, fell flat. I simply watched with quiet resolve as she turned the corner from my view and disappeared -still humming.

     What became of Peggy, I do not know. How long she survived, I do not know. I simply listened and wept as Swinging on a Star faded into nonexistence.

     The radio crackled. “Craig?” It was Doctor Whitt.

     I neared the blood-stained radio to my mouth. “Yeah?”

     “I think just one more time should do it.” Her words felt as if a screwdriver had been slowly pressed into my chest. “Then it’s over.”

     “Please, don’t.” I quietly begged. “Whatever it is. Please, just don’t. I can’t do this anymore. I’m tired.”

     “I know you are, Craig. Just one more time and we’re finished. I promise.” Without pause she continued. “In three…,”

     My arms fell limp to my side. The radio rattled across the floor.

     “Two…,”

     I closed my eyes tightly in anticipation of what I thought I knew was to come.

     “One.”

     The skin tightened across my face. Stabbing and repeated pain coursed through my skull. The visceral vibration turned my stomach as my breath was taken from me. Cold chills ran up and down my spine at will. My muscles cramped. My arms, hands, feet, and legs contorted as muscle spasms ensued without control. My vision blurred and my jaw clenched. The back of my head quickly and repeatedly pounded the door on which I was leaning. A warm trickle of spittle exited the corner of my mouth and hung cohesively to my chin.

     The darkness, only penetrated by the dimming flashlight beam, gave way as the lights on the ward returned to their dreaded strobing effect.

     I awaited my fate. Would I be torn to shreds as the others? Would I be found with the same frozen gaze of terror as they? Will I see what they saw?

     I prayed it to come quickly as my body convulsed and tightened. I refused to campaign for one last gasp of air as I deemed my demise to be better without struggle.

     My body fell limp as a release I had this time prayed against, occurred. My lungs heaved as they involuntarily sucked in one more breath of life. I began to cough as phlegm forcefully escaped my mouth. The fluorescent light mounted above me shone bright. My vision fought to adjust to the illumination.

     I shook my head as my breathing undertook a more rhythmic pace.

     “That’s it, my friend.” Doctor Whitt’s voice penetrated the dull and fading ringing in my ears. “We’re all finished.”

Chapter – Twenty-Three

     My vision cleared. I could see that I was not alone. I attempted to rise from my supine position only to be halted by straps tightly fixed around my wrists, ankles, and forehead.

     “What’s going on?” I questioned through a dull cerebral ache. “Where…where am I?”

     “Just relax, Craig.” Doctor Whitt stated. “We will get those loosened up for you in just a moment.”

     My eyes joggled around the room as hazy figures chattered and moved about. The straps holding me down were one-by-one loosened then, removed.

     “Take your time, Craig. Don’t sit up to quickly.” Doctor Whitt instructed. “We wouldn’t want you to fall.”

     I rubbed my eyes and looked around the room. “What’s happening?”

     “We thought we were going to lose you for a moment.” Doctor Whitt began to speak. “Well, actually, several times.”

     “What do you mean?” The pain in my temples further dulled.

     Assessing my surroundings, I realized I was wearing a hospital gown and sitting upright on an exam table - legs dangling from the edge.

     “ECT can be a tricky procedure, Craig.” She continued. “We have a propensity to experience favorable results, we expect this in your case as well.”

     “My case? ECT?”

     “Yes, Craig.” She answered. “ECT, you know, Electroconvulsive Therapy? This is your third session. It has been very beneficial in treating Major Depressive Disorder and as in your case, Schizophrenia. We just had a few complications on our end, but nothing for you to worried over.” Standing before me, she placed her hand upon my shoulder.

     “So,” I again wiped my focusing eyes. “I – I’m a patient?”

     “Of course.”

     “Nothing was real?”

     “What do you mean, Craig?” Doctor Whitt inquired. “I must say, you were definitely very active throughout the procedure. You kept repeating names like Cody, Laura, Anthony, Peggy, and…Well, I can’t remember them all. However, everything has been thoroughly documented.”

     “Fantasma?” I injected.

“Yes.” Doctor Whitt replied. “You had us worried for a bit. I am surprised you remember that. Very interesting. Very interesting, indeed.”

     “So, I’m okay?” I asked.

     “Nothing to be concerned about. You will be fine.” Doctor Whitt assured. “It will take some time for the residual effects of the procedure to wear off. You may experience a headache for a little while, muscle soreness as well, but you will be back to yourself in no time. Just as every time before.” Doctor Whitt took a step backward, motioning others to my side. “Now, let’s get you in a wheelchair and back to the ward so you can get some rest.”

     “Oh, O...” I stuttered as the others assisted me to my feet, knees weakened, and helped me to sit in the wheelchair. “Okay.”

     “I will come to the ward and check on you a little later today, my friend.” Doctor Whitt commented as I was wheeled out of the brightly lit room and into the hallway leading toward Ward Two; back to a ward on which I did not work.

     My mind attempted to piece together the new information I was given. It all seemed so surreal.

     I was not the head nurse on Ward Two?

     Cody, Sue, Brianna, Laura, Anthony, Jesse, David, no one, was real?

     A mixture of relief and confusion swirled within my mind.

     “Hi, Craig.” I was greeted by a cheerful nurse as I entered the ward. “Good to see you’re all finished. Lunch should be here soon.”

     The ward was brightly lit as the sun shone through the windows, illuminating dust particles fluttering and flowing through the air.

     “No snow?” I questioned as I was assisted to my feet and transferred into a foam-padded chair backed against the cinder block wall.

     “Snow?”  A nearby patient questioned with a trailing laugh. “In August? You’re a funny guy Craig, a funny guy.”

Conclusion

     I spent a total of seven months, two weeks, and six days of my life at Dockets, undergoing three more ECT treatments.

     Today, as I near the end of a long life lived, questionably extended by the treatment I received, I deeply wish that no one should ever have to experience the same as I on that terrible day.

     Still utilized to this day, Electroconvulsive Therapy is much less common as it had been during my admission at Dockets. Though deemed ultimately beneficial to me and many others who have endured the same, one cannot help but wonder as to the humane effects of such treatment.

     If I may lend to you one bit of advice it would be the following:

     If at all possible, stay away from “The Ridge.”

“A friend to all is a friend to none”

Aristotle

Cover art credit:

bing.com/images

     S. A. Bourne has worked as a psychiatric registered nurse for more than five years. He has fulfilled the duties and responsibilities of various roles (Entry Level Registered Nurse, Team Nurse, and Head Nurse) within state and community-based mental health facilities. He has given witness to countless mental health diagnosis, behaviors, crisis, and treatments.

Though influenced from experience, Friend to None remains a fictional story??

Aaron Osborne RN, BSN