Silent Memories

by Pat White

  “Mr. MacNeil? Are you all right?” the nurse asked.

  “Yep,” he lied.

  “She’ll come around. You’ve got to believe that.”

  “Thanks for trying to make me feel better.” His gaze drifted to the floor.

  “Things will work out.” She got up and touched his arm.

  He felt no warmth from her touch. Not like he had when he’d touched Mary’s pale skin. He wanted to rub his fingers across the back of her hand until she calmed down. It reminded him of sweeter, happier times.

  Just now, he’d read panic in her eyes. Yet he was the only man who could protect her. He would protect her, damn it, even if it killed him.

  “Everything will work out. Dr. Zinkerman is wonderful,” Nurse Lydia offered.

  Zinkerman, the mystery doctor who happened to join the staff a few months ago. Sean bottled up his emotions.

  “Tell me about the doctor.” He sat down on the sofa.

  Nurse Lydia smiled, seemingly pleased that she’d distracted him from his own misery. “Dr. Zinkerman has excellent credentials and keeps on top of the latest breakthroughs in drug therapy. Mary couldn’t be in better hands.”

  “Where’s he from?” He rubbed the back of his neck.

  “He’s a University of Chicago graduate. He worked in a research facility in Oregon.”

  Oregon. He tensed.

  “There you are,” Dr. Zinkerman said, coming toward them. The fiftyish, balding man slipped a pen into his lab coat pocket. He walked up to Sean and extended his hand. Sean stood.

  “I wish we could have met under better circum stances, Mr. MacNeil. I’m sorry about what happened back there.”

  Sean stared hard into the man’s eyes. Looking for what? Answers to his true motivation? Who was he kidding?

  “I’m a bit confused, Doctor. The last time I visited Mary, she was noncommunicative. Today there’s a different woman sitting there.”

  “It’s fantastic, isn’t it?”

  “I wouldn’t exactly call what happened back there fantastic.” He settled on the padded couch, his mind swimming in possibilities.

  Dr. Zinkerman sat across the coffee table from him. He glanced at the nurse. “Thank you, Nurse.”

  Nurse Lydia smiled at Sean, then disappeared down the hall.

  “I’m a bit concerned about her reaction to you,” the doctor said. “I thought she’d be happy. Instead, the level of anxiety has caused me to reevaluate my initial recommendation.”

  “Which was?”

  “To let her go home, to be with her family as soon as possible.”

  Sean sucked in a sharp breath. There was no home, no family, for his patient to return to. He couldn’t take her to his apartment, a pit buried in the heart of Boston.

  “After seeing her reaction today, I’m afraid releasing her is out of the question,” the doctor said. “She’ll have to stay at Appleton until I’m convinced she’s not at risk.”

  “And how long will that be?”

  “As long as it takes.” The doctor leaned forward, his brown eyes narrow with concern. “I can’t chance her regaining her senses only to have an emotional breakdown. It could do irreparable damage. No, I think the best thing is to let her stay with us until she shows a desire to go home with you.”

  Hell would freeze over before that would happen. He studied the doctor, wondering who he really was and if he wanted the best for her. It was about time someone did.

  Sean stood, acting the part of pained husband. “This is all a bit overwhelming. She seems almost normal today after months of being out of it. Yet you’re telling me I can’t take her home?”

  “You saw her in there, Mr. MacNeil. She’s in no condition to go anywhere with you.”

  “I’m her husband.” His chest ached with the lie.

  “I understand that, sir. But we have to think about Mary.”

  Think about Mary. All Sean had done for the past six months was think about “Mary.”

  “What are you suggesting?” Sean said.

  “We’re working with her on basic skills: feeding herself, clothing herself. She’s come a long way. She’s learned to write. We’ve encouraged her to keep a journal of memories. They come back to her in flashes.”

  Memories. The past. The horror. That could send anyone over the edge.

  “Will she remember everything?” He needed to know the severity of the situation.

  “It’s possible. No one knows for sure.”

  “This drug the nurse told me about, is that what’s caused her recovery?”

  “Partially. We also noticed a reduction in swelling around the brain on her most recent MRI.”

  “And if she’s taken off the medication?”

  “That won’t happen. Not as long as she’s in my care.”

  Dr. Zinkerman stood and extended his hand. “It would be nice if you could visit more than once a week. I think she just needs to get used to you again.”

  Sean glanced out the window. The rain had stopped.

  “Would you like to set up a visit for next Tuesday?” Zinkerman suggested. “We could discuss a permanent plan for your wife, maybe move her to the east wing if you’d like. It’s for patients who are physically challenged. It’s our long-term facility.”

  Long-term. Was that for her benefit or Zinkerman’s? He studied the doctor’s concerned expression. He’d been so good at reading people’s faces once, guessing their thoughts. This man revealed nothing through his deep-set eyes and rehearsed smile.

  “I’ll look forward to seeing you next week, then?” Zinkerman said.

  Next week might be too late.

  “Thank you, Doctor.” He shook the man’s hand, glancing down for a split second. He noticed a wide, pale band of skin on his right ring finger. He glanced at Zinkerman’s shoes. They shined brighter than a freshly minted coin.

  He released Zinkerman’s hand and shot him a pleasant smile. A smile convincing the man who called himself a doctor that Sean had bought the garbage he was peddling. Sure, Mary was in good hands.

  Like hell she was.

  “Until next week.” Sean nodded and walked toward the main entrance. He slowed his pace when he passed Mary’s room and felt the doctor’s eyes bore a hole through his back. Zinkerman didn’t want anything or anyone interfering with his patient. Of course not. Zinkerman, or whoever he was, had direct access to the world’s salvation—or destruction. That’s why he kept an extra close watch over her and encouraged her to write in a journal.

  He stopped at the front desk, scribbled his name in the visitors’ book, then glanced down the hall. She thought Sean the enemy and Dr. Zinkerman her savior.

  If she only knew.

  Heading for the parking lot, he wondered how long she’d remain coherent. Long enough to accidentally spill the whole story to a nurse? Write formulas in her diary? He made his way to his truck, got behind the wheel and sized up the building. One of the reasons he’d picked this place was because of its high security, the same security that would work against him tonight.

  He knew what he had to do. She wasn’t safe anymore. But then, neither was anyone else.

  Chapter Two

  She awakened with a start, engulfed in darkness.

  “Scream and you’re dead,” a voice threatened in her ear. Pressure against her neck pinned her cheek to the starched pillowcase of the hospital bed.

  It was the devil, back to finish what he’d started. He saw how weak she was, how fragile.

  Breathe. I have to breathe.

  The devil slid black material over her head and pulled it snug around her throat. He flipped her onto her back. Oh, God. This was it. He was going to kill her.

  Like a feral animal, she swung her arms and kicked her legs in the hopes of hitting something crucial. A large, stiff hand clamped against her throat. Clutching his arm, she dug her fingers into taut muscle.

  “Stop fighting or I’ll finish this.” His hard, brutal voice was nothing like the seductive tone he’d used during his vi
sit earlier.

  She pulled on his wrists to loosen his grip—had to get air.

  “You gonna keep quiet?”

  She stilled, stars flickering across the backs of her eyelids. He released her and she gasped, sucking much needed air through the thick fabric. A ripping sound sent shivers up her spine. Her wrists were clamped together and bound.

  “Keep your mouth shut until we’re out of here.” He smacked her upside the head. Tears stung her eyes.

  In a swift motion, he had her up and over his shoulder. She didn’t stand a chance against this beast. He dumped her into a receptacle, her body sinking into the soft mass of what she guessed was bed linen. The devil rolled the container across the vinyl floor.

  Squeak…squeak, groaned a wheel.

  Help me! Somebody help me!

  “Excuse me.”

  She recognized the doctor’s voice. Thank God. If only she could cry out, Dr. Zinkerman would save her!

  “Yes, Doctor,” the devil said.

  Why didn’t the doctor question the man who claimed to be her husband? Was he wearing a disguise?

  She swallowed hard, pressed her tongue against the roof of her mouth to form sounds. Nothing happened. Panic strangled her vocal cords.

  “Did you get all the laundry?” Dr. Zinkerman said.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Laundry. No, not laundry. I’m in here. I’m being dragged away from my bed by a man who plans to kill me.

  “Doctor,” she groaned.

  Silence filled the hallway.

  “Doctor.”

  Why didn’t the doctor pull back the sheets to investigate?

  “Get her out of here,” Dr. Zinkerman ordered.

  Her blood ran cold.

  “Give her something to shut her up,” her kidnapper demanded.

  She curled up into a ball, anticipating the prick that would render her unconscious. She couldn’t let them drug her, couldn’t pass out and wake up…where? Six feet under?

  God had given her another chance at life, and she wasn’t about to let the devil rob her of it.

  She sprung from her fetal position and toppled the cart. Burrowing out from under the laundry, she crawled on her belly across the vinyl floor. Strong hands grabbed her by the shoulders and pinned her against the wall. Her cheek smacked it dead-on. With numb fingers, she slid the sack from her head and gulped air like an asthmatic.

  “Let me handle this,” Dr. Zinkerman said. “Wait downstairs.” Footsteps echoed toward her.

  “Mary?” the good doctor said sweetly. She turned and struggled to focus against the fluorescent lights. He came toward her, his arms extended, palms up in a comforting gesture.

  “Everything’s okay, Mary,” he assured.

  Everything was definitely not okay. She scanned the hallway. The devil was nowhere in sight.

  “Let’s get you back to your room,” Dr. Zinkerman said.

  He didn’t offer to untie her wrists. He hadn’t done a damn thing to help her when the devil had tossed her against the wall. She blinked back tears of frustration and inched away from the doctor.

  “Mary, please. I wouldn’t want to have to put you in restraints.”

  Restraints. Immobile. Helpless. Vulnerable to a man who wanted to kill her.

  Zinkerman took a step closer. She spotted a syringe pinched between his freshly manicured fingers.

  “Mary, you’ve always trusted me,” he said.

  She’d play along, for the moment. But there was no way in hell she’d believe a word uttered by this man.

  “I want to give you some medication to help you relax. I know things are confusing. But when you wake up it will all be clear.”

  He took two steps, three, four. She knew damn well that if he injected her, she wouldn’t live to regret it. He backed her into a short hallway, leading to an office. She spun around and pulled at the door, but it was locked.

  “Life is confusing sometimes,” he continued.

  She turned back to him, trapped.

  “Things aren’t always what they appear to be,” he said.

  Like you, she wanted to scream.

  “I think once you sleep, you’ll feel much better.”

  He reached for her arm, but didn’t remove the duct tape from her wrists. She glanced into his soft brown eyes. A tinge of evil sparkled back at her.

  With a lunge and a cry, she bit into his forearm. He swore and dropped the syringe. She started to run, but he tripped her and she fell to the floor, only inches from the syringe.

  “It’s best if you cooperate,” he said from behind her.

  She fingered the syringe, slipping it between her palms. In one, swift motion, he pulled her to her feet and she stabbed him with the needle.

  “Ah!” He stumbled against the wall.

  “Your only chance was with me,” he said. “He’ll…kill you.”

  Sliding down the wall, he fell limp onto his side, eyes partially open. With frantic breaths, she ripped his keys from his belt. She peeked around the corner into the main hallway and spotted a fire alarm. Padding quietly across the hall, she broke the protective shield and set off the alarm.

  The high-pitched squeal pinched her ears. Doors opened. Lights flashed. She had to get out of here before the devil returned.

  Doctors shouted orders, nurses and orderlies raced from room to room. In the chaos, no one noticed that her hands were bound.

  Staff members herded patients to safety, but Mary couldn’t go with them. The devil would surely search there first.

  Pushing through the swarm of sleepy, sweaty bodies, she struggled to get to the opposite exit. Her mind raced. Where would she go once she left this place? She didn’t even know where she was, or who she was.

  But she did know she would refuse to die at the hands of a murderer.

  She bolted through the door, conscious of the killer still on the grounds who was determined to find her. Her hip ached and the skin on her wrists rubbed raw from the duct tape. She managed a lopsided sprint across the parking lot to the garden. Angry raindrops pelted her cheeks and arms, and soaked through her lightweight pajamas. The wet fabric clung to her body like wet tissue paper.

  The devil was near. She could feel him. Damn her legs for not moving faster. Damn her heart for trusting Zinkerman and believing she was safe.

  She dove into the bushes for cover, scrambling deeper into the mass of green. Her hands met with cold metal—a steel fence. She’d never been out this far, never knew what really held them prisoners. Her heart sank. The devil would surely find her now.

  “Do you want to live?”

  She jumped at the sound of a man’s voice from the opposite side of the fence. All she could see was darkness.

  “Where are you, darlin’?” echoed the voice of the man who had ripped her from her bed. He now stalked her from the perimeter of the bushes.

  “Come out, come out wherever you are,” he sang.

  She curled her fingers around the fence, desperate to see the face of the man who claimed to offer her life.

  “Come on, crazy lady. I’m not going to hurt you,” the devil promised.

  The swish of leaves shot panic across her shoulders. He was coming for her. He wouldn’t give up. Her only chance was accepting help from the faceless stranger.

  An apparition suddenly appeared on the opposite side of the woven metal. His black-gloved hands pulled at the bottom of the fence. Black covered his entire body from his ski mask to his boots. His corded arm muscles strained through the tight knit shirt as he stretched the fence to allow her through.

  “I didn’t want to do this, crazy lady,” the man called from behind her.

  Pop. Pop. A bullet smacked the wet earth beside her. If she stayed here, she was dead for sure.

  She searched her rescuer’s face.

  “I guess I gotta come get you,” her pursuer said.

  She leaned closer to the fence. If only he’d look at her so she could get a glimpse of—

  He glanced up and her heart s
topped. The darkest shade of green stared back at her.

  It couldn’t be! The devil who claimed to be her husband this afternoon, then dragged her from her bed just now? She thought he was the man shooting at her. Instead he was here, holding the fence open.

  Then who was shooting at her?

  “C’mon.” The man named Sean pulled on the fence to give her more space.

  She couldn’t believe he was the one who beckoned her to hell with the promise of life.

  “I don’t want to get my clothes dirty, crazy lady. So I’ll keep shootin’ until I know you’re dead. That okay with you?” the voice said from behind her.

  Pop. Pop.

  She could have sworn a bullet whizzed by her ear. She had two choices: death or death.

  “He will kill you,” Sean whispered from the other side of the fence.

  And you won’t? She gritted her teeth and glared at him.

  “Give me your hand,” he implored.

  Give me your soul, she heard.

  Pop. Pop.

  “Did I get you yet, crazy lady?”

  She had to live. And not just for herself. Somehow, she sensed others depended on her.

  Sean stuck a leather-gloved hand through the fence. She tore her gaze from his eyes, uncurled her fingers from the cool, steel fence and placed her hand in his palm. He pulled her through and cut the duct tape from her wrists. She rubbed the raw skin.

  “Lady, you still in there?”

  Shoving her into a crouched position, Sean pressed his index finger to his mouth.

  “This is your last chance, crazy lady. Come out and I won’t shoot, promise.”

  With a jerk of his right hand, Sean motioned for her to stay down and start running. The crouched run shot spears of pain down her leg.

  Pop. Pop.

  Sean grunted and shoved her forward. “Keep running. Follow the markers to the car and wait there.”

  Wait for you? Are you crazy?

  She followed the yellow tags hanging from tree branches. Twigs and pebbles pricked her bare feet. A chill raced through her from the cold rain soaking her pajamas. She struggled to sort out her enemies from her allies. Nothing made sense. Dr. Zinkerman an enemy? The devil her savior?

  She pushed through a mass of brush and stumbled toward the car. She slipped on the wet earth and she went down, gray muck splattering her pajama-clad body. Pushing to her feet, she hobbled to the car and locked herself inside.