by C. J. Sutton
“Well, you’ve seen some shit, even with such young eyes. How does he compare to all the other pricks you’ve dealt with? I mean, is he a standout case, or just the standout of Dortmund? I’ve always wondered.”
All Magnus could see of Walter was his bushy moustache, sitting like a sleeping cat.
“He’s intelligent. He’s charismatic. And he’s not giving up hope. Most people with the sickness are dirty and disgusting and content with crazy because they’ve told themselves that that is their place in the world. Jasper is different. Despite being caged and confined, he holds power against anyone he speaks to. That, Walter, is a trait I’m struggling to assess.”
“He’ll always be behind bars, Mag. That, or dead. No matter the outcome. He knows that.”
Magnus stopped, and turned to Walter.
“But he doesn’t.”
“Mag,” he said, utilising the light from the social room that beamed into the corridor, “you don’t look well. What did I tell you? Don’t let these people get inside your head.”
“Old Man Lonie, I haven’t seen him yet,” said Magnus, remembering the words of The Reaper.
“And Brutus, yes. But they can wait until tomorrow. Go home, check out the zoo, have an early night. That taxi guy will be waiting outside, I’m sure. He seems to know your every move.”
“I’m not tired.”
They matched one another’s stares. A challenge rose.
“Fine, Old Man Lonie, and then you’re going home. He’s not going to cause you much grief.”
Magnus doubted that, until he saw the inmate. Old Man Lonie was likely in his seventies, and wasn’t left behind bars. His room was locked, but other than that there was little to say he was a prisoner. As they entered, they saw the man cowering in the far corner muttering something to himself. Walter entered with Magnus, much to the doctor’s annoyance. He wanted to question this fellow alone.
“It’s okay, I’ve got it,” he said, but Walter gave him an apologetic grin.
“Want to talk to him?”
“That’s why I’m here.”
Walter moved to the old man, grasped his head between his palms and turned it to Magnus. Both eyes were missing from his skull.
“Ah,” said Magnus, holding back vomit.
“Open your mouth,” said Walter. A full set of teeth were present, but no tongue; no instrument to speak with. Magnus internally cursed The Reaper. This man and information didn’t go hand in hand.
“He can’t see, he can’t speak. Why is he here?”
Old Man Lonie could hear them. He lifted a hand to Magnus, twitching his fingers. He wanted something. His nose was constantly moving, like an inquisitive rabbit.
“Lonie was here long before me. He was here first, before Jasper. Carter came on board around that time, and he tells me that Lonie didn’t have eyes or a tongue then either. Ask him yourself, if you like. I don’t know his story. I don’t even think Lonie is his real name. All I know is that only two of our inmates have a ten rating in terms of danger. Lonie and Jasper.”
“A ten? This man couldn’t step on a bug.”
Magnus pitied the man, decaying in a corner for the rest of his days in a dark depressing facility such as this. Without knowledge of his crimes, it was hard to make a case for his sanity. It was hard to recognise the sickness, other than the physical trauma.
“Dortmund Asylum is a place full of ghosts,” said Walter softly, propping the old man up against his bed, which appeared to be unused for quite some time. Magnus analysed the lead guard; he never looked tired, he was physically well, his eyes burned with purpose. To look in a mirror, Magnus wished he saw the same in himself.
“There’s not much you can do for Lonie here, but have a word with Carter; nobody would know more than that old coot.”
But Magnus thought…and thought…and something didn’t add up. If Jasper had been here so long, how could he have caused the downfall of Matthew Chaos?
Shirley and Carter were the only people in the social room. Shirley was making a cup of tea at the kitchenette, while Carter stared at her rear; Magnus couldn’t see how it would classify as a desirable sight, but in a house of the mad you make do with the ornaments dangling in your face.
“Carter, got a minute?”
The grey-haired veteran tilted his head, assessing the doctor.
“A minute for what? I don’t bat that way.”
“I need to ask you about Old Man Lonie.”
Shirley finished making her tea, winked at Magnus and left the room to the two men. Carter watched her leave, grunting slightly.
“She’s a lesbian,” he said, staring at the closing door. “What an abomination. Women were put on this planet to bear children, to be dainty and all that bullshit. Her…” he said with a raised finger, “she could probably beat Brian in an arm wrestle, or chug a beer like a dick.”
Magnus wished Brian knew more about the inmate in question; he could tolerate the big bodied guard.
“Well? Stop staring at me and ask me a damn question.”
“Old Man Lonie; he was blind and without a tongue when you started here?”
“Blind implies he has eyes that don’t work. Lonie has holes in his head.”
“Whatever, he’s rated a ten. Why?”
“That he is,” smirked Carter, a foul look that annoyed Magnus; the guard was enjoying the need displayed by the new addition to the team.
“Do you know anything or not? I bet he’s not worth a ten.”
“Look, kid,” said Carter, drinking from his Jim Beam flask, “the guy is in here because he’s a bad motherfucker. Don’t go easy because he’s old. You’ve gotta do some fucked up shit to get a ten rating. Jasper is a cop killer, family torturer and leader of a notorious biker gang. To be on that level, that’s prestige in this world. You live in this world now. It’s your final thought when you sleep, your first thought when you wake. It causes us to drink, does it not? A time will come when you’ve got to make the decisions, and it’s not very far away at all. Old Man Lonie has a part to play as big as any other in this shithole.”
Beasts
Before you walk into a room, before you ask a single question to another soul, ask this: do you know yourself, Magnus?
The creature stalked its prison, growling with each lift of a limb, aware of the eyes glaring at its proud exterior despite the bars removing its freedom. Children yelled at the beast, taunted, tossed sticks towards the stripes. One hit the tiger in the temple, and it stopped. The magnificent animal turned and stared at the child. Eyes aflame. The child, protected by bars and distance, felt the fear induced by that tiger’s eyes. For if they had both been free, the child would be dead.
“Beautiful cat, isn’t it,” said a voice from behind. Magnus was alone at the zoo, so he didn’t turn. He didn’t care. This place was barely respite from his profession; analysing others from a vantage point with barriers to keep the more dangerous creatures at bay. Magnus walked on, watching the wonder in the faces of the children running from exhibit to exhibit, their lack of understanding merely part of their innocence.
Magnus couldn’t shake the Asylum. The fresh air fuelled thought; thoughts of information filtering through the walls, thoughts of inmates that couldn’t ever be classified as sane, inmates that would slaughter these children and animals for the pleasure, or service to a father in the sky. Magnus knew the taxi driver was here somewhere. He could feel his presence.
“I guess this is a small town,” said a soft voice. This time Magnus wanted to see the origin of speech. Lee, her blonde hair in a ponytail and less makeup covering her face, stood with a hand on a hip staring at the now peaceful tiger.
“Maybe you’re stalking me,” said Magnus, smiling to one side.
“Maybe you’re stalking me,” came the reply, faster.
“You live in this town, so I’m sure you’ve been to the zoo dozens of times. I’m a guest here.”
Lee, without warning, looped an arm around Magnus’ elbow and led him
away from the prowling feline. He tried to mask the flinching reaction, unsure of his success.
“In a town such as Dortmund, there isn’t much mystery. Maybe we just gravitate towards one another; you a guest, me a hostess. Young, good looking people feeling the pull. Allow me to be your guide amongst the animals. I find calmness here, away from my job. There’s something about being around such lovely creatures that makes you feel happy. Sure, they’re separated by bars, but it gives us the opportunity to inspect them, to know them, to understand them.”
Magnus knew this feeling, but not with zoos. He listened, as his role dictated. He watched as kids and parents and even the elderly walked contently through the zoo grounds appreciating the animals in each enclosure. And it was melancholy, in a way; the animals were confined, yet the people were joyful. One section sacrificed so the others lived a greater life. The zoo levelled their minds.
“I don’t even know your name,” said Lee, pulling Magnus through a cave and towards viewing glass.
“Magnus,” he said.
“Strange name,” was the response, but Magnus didn’t hear it. He was too focused on the slithering within the grass behind the glass. It cut through the environment like heat with no destination in mind, aware of its power. Annie the anaconda in all her glory, now in full view, larger than Magnus could’ve imagined, eyes more feminine than he’d ever expected, an entity Claude Simmonds missed more than any other.
“Amazing, isn’t she?” said Lee, drawing closer to Magnus, placing her head on his shoulder. If not for being preoccupied with Annie, he would’ve jumped from the affection. But here, in this dark space, they watched the giant snake pace through its habitat, limited but not giving up hope, waiting for the day it would roam the world again, free.
“The men in this town, they talk,” she continued, and Magnus knew. He knew of the stories they told, the glares they gave, and it wasn’t restricted to men. His world emulated hers, and even without a revelation of their roles in Dortmund, the understanding entwined their minds. After what could have been an hour, the duo left the cave and just walked, the laughter and chatter and sane humanity bubbling to the surface, enjoying its freedom, content with all that presented.
“I need to get to work. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you very soon, Magnus.”
And as he looked to the side, she retreated. Lee, the girl who’d held him close, fluttered away into the swell of the crowd. As quickly gone as she was attached. But purpose filled Magnus to the brim and spilled to the sides. His mission remained, and there was time. These souls struggling with the sickness were in the palm of his hand, not the other way around. All he needed was sleep, relaxation, books. The knife from the hotel pressed into Magnus’ back. After the recent night on the street, his promise remained; to always be armed.
“You can do this,” he muttered, and a lady turned. She tilted her head, so he marched on. Past the zebra, grazing. Past the giraffe, its head rising above confinement. Past the highest point of the aviary where the birds flew at the top of their world. And then…a hand at his shoulder.
“I thought you were going in to work,” said Magnus, suppressing a smile. It wasn’t Lee.
“Do you like the zoo, doc?”
The taxi driver looked down to Magnus, his height a factor for the first time. The knife in his back seemed to rise in temperature, requesting a release, too hot to remain against skin.
“What did I fucking tell you at the pub?”
“Doc, I was just enjoying a day off at the only attraction we have. I saw you talking to yourself while watching the birds, thought I’d come say hello. How is the Asylum? Do you need anything? Relief is always good. I know a place.”
“Why are you so eager for me to have relief?”
“I see you,” he said, lowering. “You’re tired. I can see it in your walk, in your face. I can hear it in your voice. We have the same employer, and I need to report to them,” he continued, serious now, “and they need you to be with it. Our goals aren’t too different, trust me. If you fail, I fail. Let me help you.”
A monkey’s outburst shattered the calm…but as children circled, Magnus resisted. He could’ve throttled the taunting Carter when they were seated alone in the social room, but he’d resisted. Resistance was part of his build.
“Think on it, doc.”
Perched on the Shoulder
The eye sees, the mind sees. Who are we to know which perception is true? Magnus, you’ll only rely upon one or the other. And it will determine everything.
“Just kill him,” said Jasper, staring at a bug that scurried across his floor. “Take him up on his offer, and when he looks for praise afterwards, stab him in the neck.”
Magnus hadn’t realised he was back in Dortmund Asylum. One minute he was staring at the animals in the zoo and contemplating what to do with his taxi driver standing before him, the next he was gazing at the most dangerous inmate he’d ever met. And in his honesty, he realised how similar the places were…yet they wanted to close this one down.
“Why would I do that?”
“Because you’re a private man, and you live in freedom. He’s altering that status by following you on your days off. That’s like me calling you while you sleep. You wouldn’t appreciate that, and I understand it. If an insane inmate of an Asylum can acknowledge this, you’ve got to ask yourself: why can’t a taxi driver?”
Where had the time gone? Had Magnus slept? Was today Monday?
“They’re watching you, buddy. Every…single…step. You think this taxi driver is the only spy on the great Dr. Magnus Paul? He’s the visible decoy. How do you know those…” – a twitch in Jasper’s face stopped him from speaking for three seconds – “guards aren’t doing the same?”
“Are you coming to some sort of deal here, Jasper, because that’s what it feels like?”
He feigned being shocked.
“Deal? Ha, I’m here to help you. Is Walter watching?”
Magnus looked to the door out of the corner of his eye. Jasper saw him do so.
“Doubt it. He can’t stand the sight of you. But he’s close.”
“Well, I’ll give you a hint. Turn to your left. Move that brick…yes, that one. That key opens every cell in Dortmund. Keep it close.”
The tiny piece of metal glistened in his palm. So much consequence in such a tiny little thing…so much power he didn’t want to hold…a secret he didn’t want to contemplate.
“Why the fuck would I want a key to the cells?”
“Well,” smiled Jasper, his beard alive, his tattoos a row of characters waiting to be released, “should you not want the death on your own hands, you could let one of the lovely nine insane bastards do the deed. An escape that wouldn’t be on you. I’m not saying it has to be me; far from it, there are better candidates. We owe you, for trying to set us free of this godforsaken shithole.”
Magnus shook his head forcefully, trying to wipe away personal thought.
“I’m going to give this straight to Walter. Why the fuck is there a key in here?”
“Insurance,” smiled Jasper, and for the first time Magnus realised he was trying to break free of the shackles. It was dark outside. The late shift? How could he let everything catch up with him this way? The light cast came from a full moon…was he even supposed to be here.
“What a fucked up place, hey, Dr. Paul.”
“Shut up,” he snapped, angered by the calm before him. A shade seemed to draw across Jasper, his face different now, scars appearing to form on every inch of skin.
“You don’t want me to shut up. You want me to give you reasons why it is okay to kill the taxi driver. You need someone to blame. Do you really think you’d stand a chance against any of the nine if that screen, or those bars, weren’t there? A decaying old man without eyes and a tongue could slaughter you. That knife tucked in your belt; you think we can’t see that. Weakness has many forms, young doctor.”
Magnus ripped it from his pants, held it out before him, shaking.<
br />
“You look nervous, doctor. Is it the fear? Do you feel it building up inside you? Are you thinking ‘Hey, fuck these nine, they deserve to die’? That key, keep it close. Because if you trust Carter, or Shirley, or Brian, or Walter, that shit will get you killed.”
The door opened, and in stepped Walter as if on command. Could he hear everything being said between the two men? Magnus sheathed the knife in the front of his pants to avoid detection.
“Mag, let’s go.”
Magnus tightened his hand into a fist to protect the key from sight. He didn’t want it, but he couldn’t put it back. Jasper winked; diversion, Magnus knew.
“Oh hello, Mr. Perch, how are we this evening? I’m hearing voices. One is that nurse, she seemed keen on you. Hard though, without a tongue. How would you feel the pleasures of touch, of voice? They are the true beauties of women…”
As Jasper continued, Magnus slipped the key into the pocket of his pants in one swift motion. Walter didn’t notice, and he also didn’t respond to Jasper.
“Well?” he said, tilting his head at the doctor, puzzled.
“Coming.”
Brutus Willows
Anger, hate. They hurt the user more than the receiver, Magnus. Make them understand this, and the reactions will be both reassuring and devastating.
Magnus could sense the questions bobbing around in Walter’s head; he knew the guard wanted to ask a why or a when or a how.
“I’m under control,” said Magnus, to break the silence.
“If you say so…but maybe take a week off from Jasper. There are plenty of inmates to keep you busy.”
“A week off? I can’t do that, I’m making progress with him, I can feel it.”
Walter scoffed, unlocking a door that Magnus hadn’t entered yet. Jaw clenched, Walter spoke.
“I know, it’s a pull. Jasper has that impact. He is intelligent, he knows all. Then you’ll end up doing all in your power to break him free…”
Walter held up a hand, stopping a rebuttal, spots of blood on his uniform cuffs visible despite the dark attire.
