The Titan_The Luke Titan Chronicles

by David Beers

  Luke stood, fingers dripping blood. He looked down at the two guards for a second, quickly eyeing the key cards on the first one. He took both the badge reader and a small key chain of actual metal keys.

  Luke stepped around Christian, flashed the badge reader, and then exited his cell.

  Christian followed, the two moving through the empty hallways. Christian heard no alarms going off, nor any other footsteps rushing through the corridors.

  He followed Luke, a trail of blood dripping from Luke’s fingers.

  They reached the front door.

  Luke simply pressed on the metal bar and pushed it open. Light flooded in, light so bright that Christian brought his hand up to shield his eyes.

  Luke walked into the light without a care in the world. He left the asylum, hands swinging, blood sprinkling the path he walked.

  As Christian watched, he understood that nothing had changed. The arrest. The sentencing. The whole endeavor had been nothing more than an improvisation by Luke, because in the end, he always got what he wanted.

  Christian still sat in his office chair. He straightened up some, reorienting himself to the room.

  He understood the flare now, as well as the fire that had burned inside Luke’s eyes. He’d been warning Christian about what was to happen. Had Luke been doing him a favor? Trying to let him know that people would die if Christian didn’t …

  Didn’t what?

  “Don’t be stupid,” the mouth said. It still floated above him, but Christian didn’t look up this time.

  The other opened the office door, stepped in and closed it behind him. He didn’t look at Christian as he moved to the chair in front of his desk, but had the air of a man who’d been expected.

  The three of them huddled around Christian’s desk, like businessmen discussing an important decision.

  The other leaned forward. “You have to let him go.”

  “Yeah. That appears to be the case,” the mouth said.

  Christian listened to both, dismissing any sense of how insane it was—that two separate pieces of his mind were telling him what he should do.

  “If you don’t, he’s going to kill those orderlies.”

  “No doubt about it. Not that either of us really care.”

  “I don’t,” the other said. “You might, though, Christian.”

  Drink my blood.

  Take my covenant.

  “I don’t have to …,” Christian began to say, but then he forgot what words came after. He didn’t have to … ?

  “No, I think you sort of do,” the other said. Blood dripped from his chin onto the desk, just as Luke had done moments before in Christian’s mansion. “If not, those people die.”

  “Who cares if they die?” the mouth asked. “Why don’t you just recognize the real reason you want to help? If he’s free, you can kill him, Christian. Isn’t that what you wanted in the first place? Isn’t that why you went to Mexico before your nuts shriveled up, and you started punching him instead?”

  Christian closed his eyes and shoved his palms over them, trying to slow down the thoughts flowing through his head.

  None of this is real. None of this is real. It’s all in your head.

  “No, Christian. It isn’t in your head. I’M NOT IN YOUR HEAD. I’m here. The other is here. We’re all here and I told you this was happening. You see it every time you go back inside your mind. It’s falling apart and you’re not in control.”

  “What do I do?” Christian sobbed, unable to hold back tears.

  “Let him go,” the other said.

  “No. I’m not going to do it.”

  “You have to, or people are going to die.”

  “PEOPLE ALWAYS DIE!”

  “At your hand,” the mouth said. “At his hand. At everyone’s hand involved in this. You know what, maybe you don’t free him. Maybe you go ahead and let the chips fall as they will, see what he does. He’ll still get out, but more people are going to die. That’s not a bad idea, really.”

  Christian stared forward at the sad face in front of him. The other. It had once been a face of mad glee, something that shook itself just to make the blood flowing from its eyes spray the surrounding air. The other once symbolized the madness taking over, but now it wasn’t even close to what was coming. What was already here.

  “It doesn’t matter. Let’s just get it over with,” the other said. “Whatever the hell we choose, let’s just do it.”

  “I vote we let him do what he wants. Don’t help.”

  Christian didn’t glance up because he didn’t want to see those teeth staring back at him, always looking like they wanted to eat him alive.

  The mouth’s words were enough, though.

  Because that was the truth. If Christian didn’t help Luke, those orderlies would die. Likely many more, but Christian’s mind hadn’t been in any condition to keep the illusion going. It gave him what he needed and that had been all it could handle.

  Christian either did nothing and people died, or he did what Luke wanted … and maybe people would live.

  “Good. We’ve got a decision.” The other stood and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. Christian stared at the bloody drops which always followed him, bright red against the white floor.

  “He’s so emotional. What did you do to him?” the mouth asked.

  Chapter 18

  “It’s best that we leave him alone for a few days,” Windsor said.

  Edward hadn’t pressured the man; he’d done his best to force himself through the rest of his day, focusing on his other patients. And, if Edward wanted to be honest with himself, he’d been ignoring them lately. They deserved his attention as much as Titan, even if Titan was his meal ticket out of here.

  The end of the day had come, and Edward had been just about to go down to Windsor’s office when he came knocking.

  “I’m sorry about earlier,” Edward said. “I sort of got caught up in what we were doing. I shouldn’t have acted like that.”

  “It’s fine,” Windsor said.

  “You think it’s best to give him some time off?”

  “I think we have to. He’s not going to talk to anyone right now anyway. Not unless you want to go down there and ask him your questions.”

  A chill moved across Edward’s spine. He’d seen Titan with Windsor over the past week, and how Windsor acted when he left yesterday. There was a certain amount of luck in the former agent showing up here, demanding to speak to Titan. Edward hadn’t known it, probably wouldn’t have until it was too late, but Titan’s mind was too powerful to fool with.

  You sit in a room long enough with that man, and you’ll never leave. Not the part of you that matters.

  And that’s what had happened to the person in front of him. He sat in an allegorical room for too long with Titan, and the scarred, tortured soul here now was all that remained.

  He chews you up and then spits you out.

  “Okay,” Edward said, nodding. “Let’s give him three days.”

  “Maybe a week.”

  Edward paused, not liking the increase in time. Not liking Windsor controlling it either. Even so, was he going to argue a few more days right now? “That’s fine … Are you okay?”

  Windsor nodded. “Yes. I, umm, I just needed a break. Sometimes Luke can be a bit overwhelming.”

  “And your head? How are you doing with the situation we discussed when you and your mother first arrived?”

  “I’m okay.”

  “You’re sure? It’s important for both of us that you can handle what is happening. If you have some sort of breakdown … Well, it’s not going to end well for anyone.”

  “I’m sure,” Windsor said. “I’m fine.”

  Edward looked at him for a second, trying to understand if he was being lied to. Windsor held his gaze, but even so, even with all of his experience dealing with mentally unbalanced individuals, what could Edward tell? The man wasn’t about to participate in a psychiatry session. Edward had alread
y made his decision in this, and if Windsor said he was okay, then he had to trust him. They had to trust each other if both were to get what they wanted.

  “Okay. Thanks for coming by … Do you want to take a few days off?”

  “No,” Windsor said. “I think I’ll take a look at some of the questions you want to explore. See if I can figure out a way to phrase them that won’t anger Luke.”

  “Okay. Let me know if you need anything, Dr. Windsor.”

  “Actually, there is one thing. Would it be possible to have a keycard for Luke’s cell? I hate having to ask the orderlies to walk me down there and then either wait or come back. I’m sure they’ve got other things they need to be doing.”

  “Let me think about it overnight. It’s a pretty big breach of protocol. And I know we’re already breaching it, clearly, I just need to think about it a little bit.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I’ll let Karen know what I decide. Check in with her in the morning, okay?.”

  “Sure. See you tomorrow,” Windsor said.

  “See you tomorrow.”

  Edward watched as he left, then leaned back in his chair.

  He didn’t want to think about any of this, especially not that he was considering giving Windsor a key. He knew how utterly foolish it was, how dangerous the whole endeavor was. The media piece was large, but the man that had sat opposite him was not okay. He might be better than when he first arrived, but that was an ocean away from actual stability.

  If Edward kept thinking about it, there was only one decision his mind could reach: this was a mistake and he needed to shut the whole thing down.

  That couldn’t happen, though. Edward would never get a chance like this again. Circumstances had both made him very lucky while at the same time conspiring against him. Luke Titan was underneath his care, but he couldn’t personally sit with him. He knew that now. Windsor had to be used. Stalling to give Windsor his decision about the keycard was a moot point. He’d already bent the rules this far, why not make Windsor’s access to Titan easier on the staff?

  Edward left the office that night determined to think no further on the subject. He only hoped he wouldn’t get burned while dealing with the Devil.

  “Dr. Canonine didn’t say anything about you seeing him today. It’s normally on my schedule.”

  “Yeah, I know. I’m just stopping by to see how Titan’s doing,” Christian said. “Yesterday wasn’t a great session for him.”

  “Dr. Windsor ….” The orderly looked up from his schedule. “I really wish he had put you on my schedule. All visitors are supposed to be preauthorized.”

  “I’m here every day. I’m just coming a bit earlier. Look, you see I’m supposed to be there at ten, right?”

  The orderly nodded. Christian knew the man’s name, but he hadn’t ever said it before, so he thought it might be disingenuous to use it now.

  “I understand, but you have to see where I’m coming from. I don’t want to get in trouble, you know?”

  Christian nodded. “I can sign the schedule if you like, saying I requested you let me in early.”

  The orderly looked down at the paper. “Okay. If you sign.” He lifted the pen up toward Christian.

  Christian wasted no time, taking it and scribbling his initials down in the current time slot. He then crossed out the later time slot and put his initials there. “See, anyone gets in trouble, it’ll be me.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Windsor. I didn’t mean to cause any trouble … just, well, you know.”

  “I certainly do. Can never be too careful when it comes to ‘CYA’. Thanks again.”

  Christian left the small check-in station of Luke’s wing and walked down the hallway to his cell. Canonine’s assistant, Karen, had left Christian a keycard at some point last night, as it was in his mailbox when arrived this morning. Christian hadn’t known what Canonine would decide, but even with arriving early, the card had been sitting there waiting for him.

  Why not now, then? If you wait too long, he’s going to break out on his own.

  Christian had taken the key card and went directly to the orderly’s desk. Now he turned the corner and saw Luke’s cell. He didn’t slow, just kept approaching.

  Luke was standing in front of his bed, staring out at Christian. Most of the wall was reinforced glass, ensuring the patients could be monitored at all times. Luke’s hands were at his sides and he said nothing as Christian stopped in front of the door. He held the keycard in his hand, but didn’t press it against the reader.

  The two stared for a few seconds.

  What are you doing? Christian thought. What are you thinking about doing right now?

  He was saving lives. Luke was going to escape and Christian knew that. What was Christian to do, alert the police that he thought the man was going to try and break out? Have them descend on this place, ending Canonine’s career?

  This is insane, another thought came. Whatever justification you’re giving yourself, it makes no sense. You’re letting a convicted killer out. Letting a mass murderer free. You need to understand that before you do it. You need to consider the repercussions.

  Christian blinked.

  Was he saving lives or simply doing what he wanted? Was he still trapped or finally free? Did it even matter, given that he was standing here with the keycard in his hand? Hadn’t the decision already been made?

  Why are you questioning yourself? People die or people live, but Luke controls all. He wrote you, and you came. Now, do what he wants, because the sooner you do, the sooner this all fucking ends.

  Christian stepped forward, cutting through the questions and doubts. He pressed the card against the reader, heard the door click open, and then walked inside.

  In the end, as Christian watched Luke move, he understood that it didn’t matter what he chose. Luke would have gotten out eventually. He came at Christian with a speed that couldn’t be stopped, a strength that couldn’t be overcome. Two men. Three men. Four. It didn’t matter how many orderlies they put in here, he would have taken them all out.

  Christian could only watch as he fell to the ground and blackness reached out its dark hand.

  Chapter 19

  Christian’s face lay in a pool of cooled blood.

  He blinked twice, trying to clear his vision. What he saw in front of him didn’t make sense. He didn’t move from the floor; he understood the blood there. It stemmed from his mouth and nose, both now balloons filled with pain.

  It was the blood on the walls that he didn’t understand.

  Large, open sores sat on them—all four of the walls surrounding him. Some sores were four feet across, and some only the size of a zit. They oozed, though. All of them. Blood dripped from each wound; the larger the gash, the more blood dripped from it.

  They’re alive, he thought. The walls are alive.

  And so they were. They seemed to be breathing, the white brick expanding and deflating.

  One of the wounds sprayed blood from its opening, drenching the floor in front of it with a torrent of red. Some splashed onto Christian’s face, small droplets that misted his skin.

  “What is this?” he asked.

  “It’s the end.”

  Christian finally moved, sitting up, his hand splashing in the pool of his own blood. The other sat beneath one of the sores, the opening in the brick dark and jagged—like some ancient cut that stretched down to hell.

  Blood didn’t simply leak from the other’s face anymore. He was covered in it, from the highest hair on his head, to the furthest toe on his foot. It soaked his clothing. Christian couldn’t even see his skin; it was red and slick, like dyed oil.

  “This is the end,” the other said without looking up. “I’d hoped he would kill us. He should have. But he didn’t. He’s much crueler than his God ever could be.”

  The gaping wound coughed out more blood and it fell across the other. He closed his eyes, a fresh swath of red flowing down his face. Only his teeth showed any white.

&nbs
p; Christian pulled himself to his feet.

  He turned to the door. Tommy stood there.

  “You let him go?” His throat was open, gaping like the holes in the walls around him. He was standing though, and his voice sounded strong.

  “You’re not real.”

  “You let him out of here?” Tommy said.

  The door to the cell was open, Tommy standing just outside of it. Christian stepped into the hallway, his feet landing in more blood as he did. The hallway was bright, the lights on above creating a clear vision of what was before him.

  Blood. Dripping from the walls, from the ceiling. It breathed out of the floor, a fine mist spraying up as the building exhaled.

  “He’s gone, Christian. You put him in here and now you let him go. Everything we wanted, you ruined.”

  Christian closed his eyes, bringing his hands to his face. The sound of skin on skin echoed in the corridor. He held his palms against his eyes for a few seconds.

  “It’s the end. There’s no need to worry about it. Everything is over,” the other spoke from behind him, where Tommy stood.

  Okay. Okay, Christian thought. Luke is gone. That’s true. But this? What is this?

  “I keep telling you,” the other said.

  Christian ignored him. He opened his eyes and looked at the massacre in front of him, blood pouring from orifices and being breathed into existence by inanimate structures—or structures that should be inanimate.

  Luke is gone. Who is here?

  Christian started jogging. He went down the hall, hooking a right, and trying not to see the horror everywhere. He had no idea how long he’d laid there, but it if had been for any lengthy amount of time, someone should have come to Luke’s cell.

  The other and Tommy appeared on his right, both staring at him as he ran past.

  “Not if he killed them,” Tommy said.

  Christian stopped at the check-in office. The door was closed, trails of blood running down the white barrier. Christian turned the handle and it opened easily. Whoever had closed it didn’t care at all if it was opened again.