Dortmund Hibernate

by C. J. Sutton

  “I’ve heard it all before. But you’re a good man, Magnus. Don’t get lost in the shadows of Dortmund.”

  And then he walked away, footsteps down the narrow hallway, shoulders high in purpose, not slouched like those of Magnus. Just as Magnus thought he’d seen the last of Walter for the day, the guard turned and stood to face him like a soldier of duty waiting for his next move.

  “Who the fuck might you be?” said a deep and hoarse voice from within the room. No windows graced this space, but a candle flickered on Magnus’ side of the screen. Only two had a screen in their rooms; Jasper and this man, known as Brutus, a massive boulder placed in the centre of the arena.

  “I’m Dr. Magnus Paul, here to help.”

  “Help? You goin’ suck me off?”

  “Shut up,” replied Magnus, closing the door, preferring the judgemental ears of Walter Perch to be closed off from conversation. The room had an odour, but not of shit or piss. This was sweat, an eye-stinging sweat that threatened to punch Magnus’ eyeballs out from behind.

  “Fuck you, midget. You can’t help me. And I swear, when I get out of here, I’ll snap your fucking neck like a pencil.”

  The boulder rose, a mass unlike any other in this facility, a figure that would block out the sun if free. Magnus squinted, trying to make out the features. Dortmund Asylum crawled with creatures bubbling with the sickness, but here was a man that equalled monster.

  “You’ll never be free with threats like that,” said Magnus, kicking over the seat and crossing his arms. He was an inch away from the screen, searching for the eyes that were set in stone.

  “Smart man, huh? Your head leaks goo like the rest of them.”

  “Tell me about the way you get news in here.”

  Brutus lifted his head, like a dog smelling a scent desired.

  “News?”

  “Who tells you what happens outside these thick walls?”

  Brutus staggered closer; with his muscle growth, he walked bow-legged. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, all veined and throbbing size, streaked with sweat from what the candlelight could project. He put up a large paw against the screen, measuring it against Magnus’ head…and it was a sight, enough to grasp and squeeze like a stress ball. Brutus was completely hairless, and had a mouth that only knew how to snarl.

  “See how easy it would be for me to crush you,” he murmured, leaning closer.

  “Do you know what powers I have?” asked Magnus, composed. “I can order you to be hanged in weeks. I can set the date for your death. What a power, right? My neck may be thin and easy for you to break, but the noose will snap yours just like any other fat fuck who kills innocent people.”

  “What…did…you…call…me?” growled Brutus, unable to stop his face twisting with torment. Magnus knew the trigger. This man was a gym junkie, obsessed with his muscle, constantly working on himself despite the limits of confinement. And Magnus wanted to prod.

  “Fat, I mean look at your guts…and those legs. Have you been skipping leg day?”

  Brutus pounded the glass, an enraged and humanised Donkey Kong. He screamed and cursed and promised death, but the screen didn’t budge.

  “Now, do you see how easy it is for me to crush you?” said Magnus, lifting the wooden chair and taking a seat, calm.

  “I’m going to kill you.”

  “Sure, whatever.”

  Brutus slowed in power and speed, watching the doctor, wondering.

  “I thought you’re supposed to help us.”

  “For that, you’ve got to want help.”

  Brutus Willows retreated from the pounding and leaned against the screen next to where Magnus could hear his voice best. He’d gone from insane monster to tattling toddler within few words.

  “Want my story then?” he said.

  “I’ve heard everyone else’s story, might as well add yours to the list and be done with it.”

  But inside Magnus was struggling to keep his level-headedness; if anything, the provocation of Brutus assisted in his mind wandering away from the knowledge of Jasper and the constant watchful presence of the taxi driver. His eyes were on fire.

  “Well, I’ve been in and out of the can my whole life. As a kid, as a man, whatever, it’s all the same. But one time, I tried to run a business and stop beating the shit out of drug dealers who didn’t pay up. Bought a gym with a partner – some dickhead I’d done some bouncing with. We’re killing it, you know? Personal training, dead-lift contests, fucking killing it. But then a new gym opens up across the street. Bigger, more colourful, more girls. At the start there’s loyal members, but the bastard over the road promises cheaper rates for better equipment. Fuck him.”

  Brutus had a tight fist, a hammer capable of destruction.

  “Turns out, my fucking partner went fifty-fifty with this other gym, sold me out. Cunt. Just when I was making a life, some prick has to bring back my anger. I’m an angry man, doctor. I march over there one day. They see me coming and lock the door, but doors don’t stop a man like me. I barge through in one thrust. The people…they scatter like ants, and all I want to do is break them all. So I place a triceps machine in front of the exit. They’re all stuck, nobody can lift it. I’m the strongest by a stretch, only one guy comes at me. I pick up a forty kilogram barbell and swing it like a baseball bat, smashing the left side of his face clean off. Well, not clean, there’s red shit everywhere.”

  The fist isn’t clenched anymore; the hands are steady, just dangling like fruits on a tree, content. Magnus yawned, and then decided to cut off the story.

  “You think that’s impressive, killing a bunch of lifters with heavy equipment? There’s another guy in here who did it with office supplies. Destroyed his whole team with a keyboard and stapler. Yet you feel calm talking about tossing dumbbells at people with the IQ of a gnat? You may be the biggest here, but you’re not the baddest…I mean you don’t even have a ten rating, and two of the inmates do. One of them doesn’t even have two of his senses, yet he outranks you. How does that make you feel, Brutus, to know that in the outside world you’re a monster, but in here you’re just a lump of over-flexed body parts unable to test the muscle? You’re not the first to catch the sickness, you’re not the first to kill, and you’re not the first to bang on the cages hoping to intimidate me. Men like you are on every street corner and in every gym. They pass you as insane? The whole world must be crawling with them. So spare me the bullshit story where you think back to your kill streak while getting a hard on. I’ve seen it all before. Big brute like you should be in the zoo.”

  It was as though Magnus had a remote pointed at Brutus, and he’d pressed pause. The giant didn’t know how to respond, the twitching of his eyes the only sign of life. And then the rage started to build, changing the temperature in the room. Magnus almost wished the screen wasn’t there, to see first hand what a beast would do if the barrier vanished into smoke.

  The banging began.

  The screaming and cursing followed.

  And then the kicking, the tears of hate, the pulsating of veins.

  Teeth bit through lip, leaking blood.

  Knees smashed against the see-through wall.

  It moved, if ever so slightly.

  “I’m…going…to…break…you,” managed Brutus, red spilling freely from his mouth. But Magnus didn’t see Brutus Willows thrashing before him. He saw the taxi driver, offering relief, whatever it may be.

  Acceptance

  Truth is a three-step process. Criticised, rebelled against, and accepted. Your patients will pass through this tunnel, and so will you, Magnus.

  “This relief,” said Magnus, scratching the side of his face…so itchy. “What if I was to take up the offer? Where would I go? What would I get?”

  Thoughts swirled like a mirage, never to be accessed.

  The driver smiled as he escorted the doctor away from Dortmund Asylum, and Magnus hated himself for creating the curve of lip. Dusk was thrust upon the horizon, paint cans full of oranges and greys kick
ed against a brick wall, smearing down the sides. The knife felt uncomfortable pressed against the small of his back. They descended the great hill, tyres cascading over rock, rolling to town.

  “You get relief, much needed relief from the pain of in there,” he said, flicking a thumb back upwards. “We all do it…all men do it here. It’s a bleak place in need of pleasure.”

  Magnus nodded, a concession, providing a tick of approval without a word.

  “Very well, doc, I’ll take you home so you can wash off the smell first.”

  Magnus sniffed loudly, unable to absorb any stench, but thinking back to the sweating of Brutus, he agreed. Mites were crawling up his arms, or was it ants, or bees? The buildings darkened as they entered the street; few bodies lurking on the pavement. Magnus had rarely seen Dortmund in daylight; a nocturnal beast that asked no questions.

  Magnus exited the car, entered the decaying hotel and staggered up the stairs. A tiredness rarely experienced found a way into his limbs, his eyes, his mind. Opening the door was an effort, so he collapsed on the bed, resting for what he thought would be a moment…and in his dreams he saw his siblings free. Brothers reunited, sister free of the needle.

  A clamp wrapped around his leg, iron and searing hot, burning hair and skin.

  “The fuck,” he screamed, lashing out.

  The driver stood at the foot of his bed, shaking his head. The top three buttons of his shirt were undone, white hair seeking an escape from his chest.

  “You’ve been out for nearly an hour. I made you an appointment, you can’t be late.”

  With his sheer size, despite his age, he lifted Magnus off the bed like a baby out of a cradle.

  “Let me down,” growled Magnus, wriggling free. They both stared at the shower.

  “Privacy?”

  “Your appointment…”

  “Wait outside,” said Magnus, and the knife dropped out of his pants and onto the floor. Their eyes went from the knife, to each other’s hands, and back to the knife. Rather than dive for the silver weapon, Magnus rose and entered the bathroom, turning the hot water on. For a moment he thought the driver was going to pick up the knife and rush at him, but he retreated also, leaving the room and closing the door. As the water bashed against Magnus’ shoulders he tried to suppress thought, to shake away all that played within. This man was a burden. The sufferers in Dortmund Asylum could only follow him here if he let them, but the driver could enter his room without breaking a lock. The bugs on his brain’s body ran away when the scolding liquid hit skin. In minutes Magnus was dry, dressed and re-applying the knife to the back of his pants. He glanced into the peephole; the driver stood with his back to the door. Magnus wished he was leaning against it, if only to make the man fall flat on his back.

  “This better be some decent relief,” muttered Magnus as they walked up the stairs.

  “Why are we going up?”

  “Relief is up here, doc.”

  The inside of the building seemed to open up the further they ascended. The hallway atop was long…a mirror to the Asylum, and Magnus heard the laughter, the rattling of cages, the beating against thickest screens of glass.

  “Knock three times and let one second pass between each knock,” said the driver, pushing Magnus forward with the flat of his palm. “Enjoy.”

  And in seconds, the man vanished. Magnus breathed deeply. He preferred being able to assess a sanctuary before entering within.

  One knock…breathe.

  Two knocks…breathe.

  Three knocks…breathe.

  The door swung open, and a face greeted him…a very familiar face.

  “Hello Magnus,” she said, her blonde hair curled and bobbing up and down as she lifted her feet, kissing him on the cheek. And in that peck he knew what this was, who she was, and all that signified smiles with the word ‘relief’.

  “What’s wrong? You don’t want this?”

  He couldn’t speak, part annoyed and part angry at himself. Lee was a prostitute, servicing all the men in Dortmund. Her advances were merely professional.

  “I didn’t expect…this.”

  “Oh honey, don’t look so glum. Come in.”

  She was wearing a short black skirt, knee-high heeled boots and a pink corset strapped tight to lift the bosom. In any other setting Magnus would’ve found great pleasure in the sight…but here, in the room that smelled like it had been smothered in perfume, with an oval-shaped bed fluffed by feathered pillows, darkness only curtailed by a poorly-lit brass lamp and a rug suggesting a dead animal from the zoo, the setting reeked of materialistic bullshit.

  “It’s a bit clichéd,” he said, unable to hide his disappointment in Lee, his constant mood at the taxi driver and the lurking creatures a few miles up the road. Lee slipped her hand through his, entwining, lips pursed.

  “I know what this seems like, Magnus. But don’t think of it that way. I like you.”

  “I bet you say that to all the other men that walk through that door every day.”

  “No,” she continued, walking around his body, sliding her arms under his shirt, whispering in his ear. “Relief, we all need it, even I, from all that I see. All that we do. You’re not paying. This is freedom.”

  Lee paused when her hand clasped on the handle of the knife, but she did not stop; Magnus noted that her facial expression had not changed.

  When Lee disappeared from view, Astrid came to play. Blonde locks resting on his shoulder became straight black strands. Voice altered, tease rose. He wanted relief. And then they were on the bed, Lee atop, grinding her warm body against the cool of Magnus, a rhythm played often, a song sang daily. Magnus wrestled with the idea at first, but it was all he wanted, to be with the Dortmund local despite her role in the game, to feel her sickness-free touch despite its connotation with that of an inmate, free from the restraints cast around his shoulders, release from his overwhelming duty.

  They were naked, as Lee applied a condom to her client. Magnus thought of snakes for a second, but soon he was in her world. Laughter spiralled in the periphery, a crowded room cackling as the doctor and the prostitute grabbed at one another greedily, deep within, shaking away all that dragged them down. She whispered in his ear, inaudible words a spell to cast away the demons, and he felt the pressure building. As she bounced above, arms thrust upward, he closed his eyes. Astrid’s tight body became clear in his mind’s eye, those bright teeth, and those piercing eyes.

  “Look at me,” said Lee, faster now, beading sweat. And Magnus did, if only for a moment, with his explosion that rocked the walls of the Asylum. Lee collapsed on the bed, giggling, panting heavily.

  Magnus and Lee were lying naked, nestled within pillows now missing dozens of white feathers, torn apart.

  “Tell me about your career,” she said, an order more than any question.

  “Why are you so curious?”

  “You’re a curious guy. Young, handsome and professional; it’s not the Dortmund type.”

  “I’m the psychologist up at Dortmund Asylum.”

  The statement of fact was as good as the orgasm. She was silent.

  “I need to do something, Lee, but I’m not sure how to do it. If I succeed, I’m both a rescuer and a bad man.”

  She turned, leaning on her elbows, and switched off all the lights. Night ruled the room.

  “If I succeed,” she said softly, “I am both a rescuer and a bad woman also.”

  Despite the scene, Magnus closed his eyes as the touch of Lee brushed against his chest.

  “I do this to keep the town sane,” she continued. “This town needs to stay sane, with what goes on up there.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “How is the Asylum legal? Those poor souls do not get yard time, they don’t get to socialise, and they don’t even get proper cleaning. It’s disgusting.”

  Magnus nodded, fighting a battle within himself. How was anything in this scenario legal?

  “They’re billed as the worst of the worst, Le
e. Rapists, murderers and torturers with no regret. They’d slit your throat without a second thought, and then tell the story with a chuckle. The reason they are alone, is because alongside others there is only torment. My siblings…” he started, feeling compelled to open up, “I lost them before my education in the matter. I didn’t understand. But now I do, and I know what must be done. I do everything for them.”

  Lee rolled over and added dim light. She applied her clothes and lit up a cigarette, taking two quick puffs before facing Magnus.

  “I want enough money to leave this place. I dream about it every day, waking up in an apartment overlooking the city, commuting to work surrounded by people of different cultures, backgrounds, situations, wants and needs. To see faces I do not know, faces I haven’t pleased. To just be another girl in a giant world, not burdened by her role or fear who may walk in that door next. I’d be your secretary, paging in the sick and watching them leave, cured.”

  A sigh.

  “I must confess, I don’t want secrets anymore. That taxi driver, he has been paying me to watch you, to seduce you…”

  Magnus rose, fists balled, temper flared.

  “I’ll kill him. What’s his obsession? He thinks I’m some old doctor who can’t do the job?”

  Lee recoiled, backing into the corner of the room, puffing away. Her makeup streaked from the effort of minutes prior. Magnus lifted his knife off the floor, cursing further. As Lee’s cigarette quickly receded to the brown stub, so did the calm state of Magnus Paul. The doctor left without goodbye, instilled in malice.

  Pride

  Behaviour is learned from others, Magnus. Father figures, mentors, celebrities. It is contagious, and quite often we must be the antidote.

  Magnus knocked on the steel door three times, trying to catch his breath.

  “Why are you so tired?”

  Brian opened the creaking door, his silhouette the only visible aspect.

  “Where’s your cabbie?”