“Think, damn it!” I commanded. “What did you see?”
Dr. Seward began to shake. His eyes rolled into the back of his head. But as suddenly as it began, it stopped. He looked at me, but there was something about him that told me he was no longer truly with me. When he spoke, it was a voice that was not his, but one that sounded familiar nonetheless. “Choose truth, not passion. A winding staircase. Seek the light, not the darkness.”
Now I simply held him still, staring at him. Gibberish. Rubbish. I pushed him away, my disgust evident.
“The sleeper must not waken,” he stammered. And in a flash, I had a compulsion. To this day I don’t know why I said it. Perhaps it was that his voice reminded me of another. But in no event would I have expected his reaction.
“That is not dead which can eternal lie,” I quoted. “And with strange aeons even death may die.”
Dr. Seward’s body went rigid. Then he slowly turned, his face a mask of shock, but even through that mask I could see a simmering rage bubbling up beneath. His eyes changed again, and somehow I knew it was Dr. Seward who looked upon me at that moment.
“What did you say?” he barely whispered.
“What’s the matter, doctor? Perhaps I understand more than you think.”
Then, shock.
“Who told you that!” he screamed, leaping across the room and grabbing me about the neck. I felt my body flung backwards, slamming painfully into the iron door. “Who told you that!” he repeated, smashing my head into the concrete floor. The world started to go black, but everywhere there were tiny flashes, little explosions of light. As suddenly as it started, I felt Dr. Seward thrown off of me. I was pulled outside and the door slammed again. I was sitting in the hall, Jacob kneeling down beside me.
“Good Lord, doctor. It’s a damn good thing I came when I did.”
“Jacob,” I said, patting him on the shoulder, “yes, yes it was.”
He lifted me to my feet. “Would you like the infirmary then, doctor?
“No, no,” I said, my mind still not working. “Just take me to my room. I’ll be fine.”
He led me upstairs, but it wasn’t until he closed the door of my room behind him that I had a moment to consider what had just happened. I had sent Jacob on to Dr. Harker. I had learned little from my encounter with Dr. Seward, but I hoped what I had would be helpful to the police.
My head felt like it had been split in two, and I couldn’t quite wrap my mind around the violence that had just been inflicted upon me. Dr. Seward was not elderly, but he wasn’t young either, and the strength he had shown was otherworldly. There was something to that arcane couplet Robert had quoted to me, what now seemed like ages ago. Ages. But it had only been two days.
Then the clouds cleared. Two days, the very same night Dr. Seward had spoken of. The very same night Dr. Seward had been discovered, covered in the blood of a dead colleague. Like an explosion splits the night with a suddenness to match its force, it all came together for me.
Dr. Seward had tried to tell me, tried to explain. A beast, long dormant, long asleep. Robert had spoken of them, floating just beyond man’s consciousness, images of gods past. The legends, the myths, the secret whisperings of nameless cults and ancient faiths. No, not legends, not images, but real beings so astronomical in their scope that even their dreams, their non-corporeal wanderings, were capable of killing a man.
It had all come to Mistaktonic, and in some dread cavern, men had sought to awaken those gods from their timeless sleep. If Robert had seen the same phantoms that haunted Dr. Seward, then that could mean only one thing. Robert wasn’t insane at all.
I leapt from my desk where I sat and rushed to the door. I needed to speak to Dr. Seward again, no matter what his state, no matter what threat he might be to me in his madness, the origin of which I now knew. I grabbed the handle and pulled. But the door didn’t budge. It was locked. Apparently, Jacob had locked it when he left me behind.
I reached into my right pants pocket, then my left. Empty. I looked around the room, confused. But then a cold shudder began to creep through me. I grabbed the sides of my trousers, as if that would make my key, the key that opened every door in the building, the key I had in my possession before I entered Seward’s cell, the key I had not needed since Jacob walked me to my room, suddenly appear. But it was no use. I banged on my door. I screamed, I yelled. I began to think no one would hear me, that I might be locked in my own room all night. Suddenly I heard a key jiggling frantically in the lock. The door flew open, revealing a very concerned looking Dr. Winthrop.
“What the Devil is going on?” he asked.
Before I could answer, I burst past him and into the hallway. As he ran behind me, I replied, “Seward!”
“What of him!”
“He has stolen my key!”
For a moment Dr. Winthrop stopped, but it was clear I had no time to discuss it. We ran down the stairs to the main door. I waited for Dr. Winthrop behind me. He hurriedly unlocked the door and opened it. Jacob’s seat was empty. There were no orderlies to be seen.
“Where is Jacob?” I asked as we rushed down the corridor.
“He should be here. Someone had to stay behind.”
“Behind?”
“We had a problem in the female ward,” he said as he unlocked yet another door. “It was complete bedlam. The lot of them started howling and screaming. Attacking each other and the staff. We had to pull the orderlies from the men’s ward.”
The same cold chill began to spread through me once again. “What about the men?” I asked.
“Luckily,” Dr. Winthrop said, as he prepared to unlock the door leading to the ward for the criminally insane, “they were particularly quiet today.” He jerked open the door, but neither of us moved. Dr. Winthrop inhaled sharply. “What foul creature . . . ” he finally muttered. But there could be only one answer, only one person who could have left Jacob there on the hallway floor, his throat torn out as if by some wild beast. But it was no beast. The cell door at the end of the hall stood open. Dr. Seward had escaped.
Without a word, I ran to the wall and pulled the rope that triggered the mechanical alarm.
“He tricked me,” I said bitterly.
“What do we do now?” Dr. Winthrop asked, as if I was the one who had been at the hospital for years.
“What do we have in the way of weapons?”
“There is a locker in Dr. Harker’s office.” Dr. Winthrop went white. “Could Seward have made his way there?”
“Unlikely,” I said. “Too well traveled, and his door is the only one in the building that key won’t open.”
“Seward might not know that.”
“I wouldn’t wager on Seward being unaware of anything,” I said as several orderlies came running towards us.
“Are you all right, sirs?” one I knew as Franklin asked.
I spoke quickly. “Seward has escaped. He killed Jacob. We have to search the hospital immediately. Inspector Davenport will be here tonight. When he arrives, have him and his men report to Dr. Harker at once.”
“There’s a blizzard, William.” Dr. Winthrop said. I looked up at a window high upon the wall of the asylum. Even though it was dark outside, I could see the swirling snow beating against the glass. I had been so disoriented by Dr. Seward’s earlier attack that I hadn’t even noticed.
“Alright. Well, let’s hope Davenport is dedicated. If he doesn’t arrive, we will handle the situation as best we can. But this makes it all the more important that we find Seward now. If he escapes into the forest, we will never track him in this snow.” I turned back to Franklin and said, “I want you and your men to search the cafeteria, the dormitories, and all the exits. Search the grounds outside those exits, as well. If Seward is in the building, we will find him. If he has left through one of the exits, the snow should reveal his tracks for now.”
“What will you do, sir?”
“Dr. Winthrop and I will take the tunnels. Good luck.”
Fran
klin nodded once and began to give orders to his troops.
“The tunnels?” Dr. Winthrop asked uncertainly as we rushed up to Dr. Harker’s office.
“I think that’s the path Seward will take. The tunnels go to the surrounding buildings. Make it there, and he can escape more easily. And the sub-tunnels run out all the way to the edge of the forest.”
I knocked on Dr. Harker’s locked office door. Though I expected it, we were still both relieved when he opened it.
“Problem, boys?” he asked without any real concern.
I looked at Dr. Winthrop and quickly explained. Fear crept into Dr. Harker’s eyes, and when he dropped the papers he had been holding, I was afraid he might faint.
“Find him, William. Before he goes too far and does more harm.”
“We will need the guns, Dr. Harker.”
I could tell he wanted to object, but despite his friendship with Dr. Seward, he could no longer protect him. Finally, he simply nodded, reaching into his desk and handing me the key. I pulled out two pistols, giving one to Dr. Winthrop and taking the other. As we left, Dr. Harker grabbed my arm.
“Try and take him alive, William. If it is at all possible.”
I nodded once, and the hunt began.
Chapter
28
Dr. Winthrop and I headed into the maintenance area where the entrance to the tunnels was located. We opened the heavy iron door that marked the opening to the main tunnels, and I followed Dr. Winthrop to the portal beyond which allowed access to the sub-tunnels. It was small and fairly innocuous. I wasn’t sure I could have found it without his help.
“Be careful down there. It’s much narrower than here. The tunnels follow the pipes that bring water up from the aquifer to the various parts of the building. There are many, and it’s easy to get lost. Just follow the path to the right until you come to a three-tunnel fork. Take the left tunnel, and then your first right. That tunnel should lead you straight out to the forest. Once you are out, you’ll be a little disoriented, but it shouldn’t be hard to find your way back up to the main entrance. If you don’t find Seward, meet me there. If you do, fire a shot.”
Dr. Winthrop offered me his hand. While we had worked closely together during my stay at the asylum, I never felt as though there was any love lost between us. But now, in that instant at least, I could see concern in his eyes. I took his hand, shook it once, and nodded. Dr. Winthrop turned away and began his search. I slipped through the small opening in the wall and did the same.
The main tunnel system was often used by the staff and was rather well kept. The same could not be said for the sub-tunnels. They existed primarily to provide access to the web of water-bearing pipes, a technological miracle of sorts, which supplied fresh water to every wing of the building. The air was thick with dust, and though I tried to avoid them, spider webs stuck to my face and clothes. My lantern provided only the barest of light.
I stood for a minute at the entrance, wondering if it was worth it to advance. I knew Dr. Winthrop thought our efforts futile. I could barely find the entrance to the sub-tunnels. Dr. Seward, who to my knowledge had never been to the asylum before becoming a patient there, would have never stumbled upon them. But I wasn’t worried about his stumblings. It is difficult to describe what I thought then, what I assumed he was capable of. Deep within my bones, I knew he had passed here before I had, even if there was no evidence within of his coming or going.
I walked down the right corridor. As I walked, my footfalls echoed down the length of the tunnels and beyond. In that claustrophobic space it was as if each were a cannon shot, a boom, boom, boom, announcing my presence to whatever waited beyond. It was then my mind began to betray me. I began to hear and see things that couldn’t be.
First I heard the sound of footsteps just behind my own. I initially thought it an echo, but this was different. It seemed to have its own reverberation. I began to feel as if something were following me. Three or four times I turned quickly, hoping to catch a glimpse of my pursuer. Each time, nothing. Just the soft swirl of dust and silence.
I continued down the path until I reached the split. I took the leftmost tunnel as Dr. Winthrop had commanded. Now I was deep under the heart of the asylum, but I might as well have been at the bottom of the Earth. I kept my hands steady in an effort to maintain my calm. I was particularly careful with the hand holding the lantern before me, its solitary light the only reminder I had not fallen into some Stygian Hell.
Just beyond me, at the edge of my sight, something had disturbed the dust; I stopped. It wasn’t falling softly, but rather rushing in tight spirals as if something had passed through its veil. The swirls grew faster, and they seemed to breathe, in and out, in and out, as if they were collecting themselves in a mass. Before my eyes, the figure of a man appeared. A large man, almost too big for the tunnels. I stood staring at him, or it, the featureless outline, the faceless image in a dark cloud. It didn’t move, and I shuddered as I realized I could no longer trust my own sight.
Just as quickly as I convinced myself this was truly nothing but dust, the image lurched to the left and into a tunnel running off of mine. I began to run after it, sure now I had caught an image of Dr. Seward fleeing. I sped down the tunnel, forgetting where I was and where I was going. The swirling haze moved just beyond my reach, left, then right, then right again, until I had taken so many turns I couldn’t distinguish the last from the first.
I stopped. The dust simply floated now, floated like it had before, floated like it no doubt had been all along. My mind had played me the fool, and in my mad rush to catch the phantom always just beyond my grasp, I had fallen hopelessly lost. I stood there, clenching my lantern, listening to the silence, wondering what to do next. Then it happened, a moment that haunts me to this day, that I still relive every night in my dreams.
For the briefest moment the fragile flame flickered, and then it was gone. The blackest night I had ever experienced fell on me in an instant. I was plunged into the abyss, and though I didn’t move, I felt as if I were falling into black insanity. In that instant the fear was so real, the panic so palpable, that my mind bent toward breaking. I wanted to run screaming into the tunneled darkness, searching for light.
Suddenly, in the instant in which the cold hand of madness clutched me, I heard a voice. Not from without, but within. A child’s voice, one I had heard before. It said one word: “Hold.”
In that moment, as if I had been physically pulled back from the brink of some dark chasm, I did hold. Onto myself, onto my sense of control, my discipline. I stood stock still, determined I could unravel this problem. The voice came then, not the one of the child, not the one that had given comfort. The voice of another, the one whose eyes needed no light to see in the darkness.
“Hello, Dr. Hamilton.”
The hairs stood up on the back of my neck, the blood within my veins stopped cold like water frozen to ice. It was a high voice, a haughty voice, bloodless and cruel. But it was Dr. Seward’s, I had no doubt about that. It was beneath me, above me, to my right and my left, below and beyond. It was a whisper in my ear, as if he were standing right behind me.
It also roared like thunder up and down the halls. Whether it was the acoustics of that place or something more, something less natural and more sinister, I did not know. But it gave me no bearing on where he was.
“So good of you to join me tonight. I was afraid I might be forced to slip away without ever saying goodbye.”
I took a small step backwards, letting my back hit against the wall. If he were here, at least he wouldn’t get the jump on me from behind. I held the lantern in my left hand — though unlit, it could still be a weapon — and pulled the pistol from beneath my waistcoat with my right.
“Oh, Dr. Hamilton,” the voice said dryly, “surely you wouldn’t shoot your old mentor, your old friend.”
“I hope it doesn’t come to that,” I said, somehow unsurprised that despite the coal black gloom Dr. Seward could see my every move
. “But that is your choice. You lied to me, Dr. Seward. You lied the whole time.”
“Ah, William,” the voice boomed and whispered at the same time, “I am sorry you think that. In fact, I told you very few lies. Your ears have heard more truth than most men in a lifetime.”
“Then, tell me more truths, doctor,” I yelled, determined to keep him talking in the hope that something would reveal his location, that he would betray himself, that I would have one clean shot. “You killed Thacker, didn’t you? And the girl, too?”
“I told you before, William, I am no murderer. Neither died at my hands. Well, I suppose one might quibble about the girl. But Thacker, he fell to one far mightier than I. You already know of him, of his kind.”
“I know only what you have told me,” I spat back, “and I believe none of it.”
Dr. Seward cackled, and as he did, his laughter rolled back and forth through the tunnels, changed its pitch and its tone, seemed to flow up and down, stronger, then lighter, over and against itself, as if it were a hundred men laughing instead of one.
“Now who lies, Dr. Hamilton? No, my friend, it is not only I who has spoken to you of those giants, those sons of the gods just beyond man’s sight, lurking in our collective subconscious. There was another. A boy.”
“Robert . . .” I whispered almost unconsciously.
“Yes, Robert.”
“But how can you know about him?”
“Because I have seen him, William, just as I see you now. A pity, really. All your knowledge, all your training and expertise, and you, like everyone else, thought him mad. But he was not mad. Or was he?
“I suppose it depends on the definition. Imagine what it must have been like, William, to see what others cannot? A blind man sees nothing. He lives in a world of darkness. They say in the kingdom of the blind, the one-eyed man is king. But they are wrong. The one-eyed man is a madman. Mentally insane, criminally deranged.
That Which Should Not Be Page 19
