Bedlam Lost

by Jack Castle

  But Barnabus was gone.

  Hank stood his ground, his body shaking. Where the hell did he go?

  He scanned the alley with his pistol. There wasn’t any place for the oversized bear to hide or retreat without Hank seeing him.

  Am I hallucinating? Where could he have possibly gone to?

  Movement caught his eye at the opposite end of the impossibly long alley, far longer than any alley in HavenPort had any right to be. Hank could just make out the naked man at the opposite opening. Comedic under other circumstances, he was jogging in place again, like a runner ready to start the big race, and he was obviously waiting for Hank to catch up.

  Hallucinating Barnabus or not, Hank had a murderer to catch. Hank checked the intersecting alley one more time, then resumed the chase.

  As Hank closed in on the naked man still jogging in place, the naked man sneered to him, “I guess you must be the hero in this here tale. How’s that saying go? There are young heroes and old soldiers but no old heroes?” He then added with glee, “Catch me if you can!” With that said, the naked man dashed across the street into Ophy’s hotel. A young mother on the sidewalk screamed as she ushered her two small children out of harm’s way, and a fisherman exiting the hotel’s main entrance cursed as he was knocked aside into the bushes.

  Hank raced up the stairs after him. Entering the lobby to a bunch of screaming little old ladies that Hank recognized from church. Ophy shouted to him from behind the clerk’s desk, “Hank, he went that way, into the elevator!”

  As the elevator doors closed, Hank barely glimpsed the naked man waving merrily back at him, still grinning and jogging in place like a madman.

  Hank bolted for the stairs and called over his shoulder to Ophy as he ran, “Call Jeb, and let him know where we are.”

  Chapter 19

  A Family Video

  Hank exited the stairwell on the fourth floor.

  He remembered that after the busy summer season Ophy had decided she was going to paint the exterior of the hotel and do a complete remodel of the top floor. Everything around him was in construction phase, the walls weren’t painted, the windows were covered in plastic, and sawhorses stood like grazing cattle. The rooms were open but he couldn’t see because plastic vapor barrier hung from the footers forming a labyrinth of construction.

  Per his training, Hank had checked each floor on his way up, but he was starting to wonder if maybe he’d missed the naked man on one of the lower floors, and thought about double backing. That’s when he heard the loud compression sound, PFTTT… PFTTT… PFTTT.

  Four six-inch nails, long enough to pierce his skull, pounded through the drywall inches from his head.

  He had the right floor.

  A voice emerged from the labyrinth. “Peek-a-boo, Hank, do you see me?”

  Hank growled back, “Come out with your hands where I can see them.”

  No answer.

  Walking further into the naked man’s inner sanctum, he heard a scream. And not just any scream. It belonged to his wife. Sarah…! A wave of nausea assaulted him. This was a fear far worse than when he’d encountered Barnabus back in the alley. He could hear his wife crying, and then talking, but Hank was too far away to make out any words.

  He closed in on the sounds of his wife weeping, every muscle straining to run to her side but training keeping his eyes on every gap in the wall, his long strides measured and sure despite the panic surging in his chest. Gun leading the way, finger tight on the trigger, the sounds led him to an unfinished room. Paint cans were stacked on the floor, discarded tools lay everywhere, and on the back wall sat a television set and old VCR on boards haphazardly strewn across two sawhorses. Hank had entered the room as the video tape finished and went to static. The static roared.

  The video reached the end of its reel and the VCR automatically began to rewind. Hank realized it wasn’t his wife he had heard but whoever was on the tape. When the VHS got back to the beginning, it began to play again; an endless loop.

  Hank took a quick glance around to see if he was being watched but saw only plastic vapor barrier gently blowing in a breeze from a nearby open window.

  He turned back to the image shifting to life on the television. The image was of the back end of a yellow oversized Cadillac. The caddy was parked in an open field that seemed somehow familiar to Hank but he couldn’t quite place it. The car he knew, the Cadillac’s owner was a fisherman normally out to sea a few weeks at a time. The Caddy’s trunk had been left open. It was the kind of trunk you could fit a dozen clowns inside. The image was so still Hank figured the camera had to be mounted on a tripod.

  The light snow on the ground suggested the video was taken within the last few days, maybe even as recently as this morning.

  Oh no…

  The naked man’s head, the top half anyway since he was too short to appear all the way in the lens, suddenly entered the frame.

  “Hi Hank,” he said, tapping the lens with a finger. “I made a movie for you.” When he walked away from the camera his whole body became visible and Hank could see he was now wearing winter clothes and boots.

  Hank’s stomach began to twist; Sarah’s scream still fresh in his mind. He fought the urge to dash to the nearest phone.

  No, no, no…

  The naked man disappeared from view for a few seconds and then Hank heard the scream. It was the same one he’d heard earlier. Sarah was violently thrown to the ground within view of the camera. Her wrists were bound in front of her, and her face and arms were severely bruised. Her make-up ran down her face in two rivers that mixed with the blood dripping from a jagged cut on her forehead.

  In the film, the naked man, didn’t say anything, he just dragged Sarah over to the back of the car. He screamed at her and made her look inside the trunk. But Sarah didn’t want to see inside the trunk. So the naked man grabbed her roughly by the back of the head and forced her to gaze within.

  Hank fought the bile rising in his throat.

  Sarah started crying, words spilling from her mouth,, “No, my babies, no. What did you do?” she moaned, collapsing to her knees and laying her head on the bumper. The naked man grabbed both sides of her head firmly in the palms of his hands.

  No… I’m begging you.

  Tears clouded Hank’s vision. After pawing his eyes, he outstretched his own hand toward the television as though he might be able to pluck her from danger.

  With a quick twist of his wrists the naked man broke Sarah’s neck.

  Hank felt as though a horse kicked him in the heart. He wanted to look away, but he couldn’t. The naked man scooped her lifeless body up and laid her into the trunk. He then ceremoniously closed the lid as if he were handling a casket. He then pranced over to the camera and spoke into it, “Now, for my piece-da-resistance!” He ran back over to the car, put it in neutral, and shoved the vehicle until it began to move on its own with the slope of a hill. That’s when Hank realized where the car was parked. It was near Angel’s Gorge, HavenPort’s own version of Lover’s Leap.

  The naked man ran back to the camera. He removed it from the tripod and followed the car as it drove off the cliff.

  “There it goes,” he uttered with glee. And then his tone turning to mock seriousness, “Gosh, I hope they were wearing their seatbelts.”

  Hank felt his legs give out and he dropped to his knees, his hand numb from gripping the revolver so hard.

  Before the video went to static, the naked man spun the camera back towards his face and he uttered into its lens, “Ta-Da!”

  And that was it. His family was gone in an instant. His beautiful and incredible wife was no more. He would never hear his daughter’s infectious laugh again nor would he get to see his little boy grow up into a man. Tears streamed down his face, burning his cheeks. As the sadness twisted into searing rage all Hank could think about was how he was going to kill that grin
ning bastard. Wrench his fingers back, one by one, until they broke, peel his scalp from his skull and watch him bleed every ounce of blood he had.

  And that’s when the metal pipe hit him on the head from behind.

  Chapter 20

  The Fall

  Ears ringing, eyes seeing only stars, Hank crashed to the floor.

  He lay there stunned for a moment, struggling to cling to consciousness. Only pure rage allowed him to rise to all fours. His revolver had gone flying, he didn’t see it anywhere, but right now, he didn’t care. He didn’t care whether he lived or died, just as long as he took that insane, murderous bastard with him.

  The naked man, now wearing construction overalls, work boots, and blood-stained gloves, danced around him with the metal pipe in his hand.

  “Oh, Hank. You disappoint. I thought you’d be more of a…” he struck Hank in the torso as he was trying to rise to his feet, “…challenge,” he finished.

  Hank tried to roll away from the incoming strike but the pipe connected with his rib cage.

  The naked man, grinning that insane grin of his, twirled his pipe like a cheerleader’s baton and circled around him, marching to a nonexistent tune.

  “C’mon. Get up! You’re missing all the fun. Can’t you hear the music?”

  Hank coughed and spat blood. “I’ll kill you, you son-of-a-bitch!” he growled. Reaching deep, he staggered to his feet. His ribs felt broken. He still had nary a clue where his gun had vanished too.

  Blinking past his clouding vision Hank saw his attacker swing on him again. He managed to throw up his left arm and took the brunt of the blow on his shoulder and forearm instead of in the head. A second attack sent him crashing through an unfinished wall.

  The naked man had to circle around the wall to enter into the adjoining room giving Hank a precious few seconds to recover.

  It was all he needed. When the naked man entered the room, babbling more nonsense, Hank had managed to struggle to his feet. He tackled the smaller man and carried them both through a second unfinished wall. Landing in the third room Hank was the first to regain his feet. As the naked man tried to rise, Hank drove his fist into the man’s jaw again, and again, and again. He grabbed the man by his thin upper arms and threw him into a stack of paint cans, then dragged him up by the hair to ram him into the bare studs of a wall under construction. The man’s face went through the two-by-four, the wood cracking. The man slumped to the ground, blood and shards of teeth flying from his mouth. They lay like that, his face a bloody pulp, barely recognizable, his breathing sharp and ragged gasps through broken teeth.

  Hank could barely stand. He stumbled away and turned to rest with his hands on his knees, waiting a moment for his vision to clear. His thoughts were coming back to him now. He needed to handcuff this guy and get him out of here. He needed to find… God… He needed to find that Cadillac.

  He didn’t see the naked man rising to his feet behind him, but he felt a prickle at the nape of his neck. He glanced back just in time to see the naked man explode with uncanny speed. He barreled into Hank, just like that day at the pool, only this time they both went flying through the fourth story window.

  Hank twisted, hands flailing for purchase on the passing window frame. His back slammed into the unfinished balcony beyond, the naked man falling past him over the side where there was no railing. Air knocked out of him, Hank struggled to roll onto his hands and knees. He looked over the side of the balcony and almost jerked back when he found the naked man hanging by one hand from the lip.

  “Hi Hank,” he said through swollen lips and missing teeth. With a tinge of sadness, he added, “I guess you’re pretty mad, huh?”

  With every fiber of his being Hank wanted to kill him, or at least let the murdering bastard fall. No one would know, and no one could blame him. But Hank knew in his heart that’s not what Sarah would’ve wanted. She was always the kind one. And he didn’t have her anymore, only her memory.

  That was when Hank knew, he’d do it for her. This one last act of kindness.

  No one was more surprised than Hank when he grabbed his family’s murderer by the arm and reached for the man’s other hand.

  “Give me your hand. I’ll pull you up.”

  “Awww… you’re such a good guy, Hank,” the naked man jeered. “But you know … here, death isn’t the end of the line. I mean you know that, right? We’re just pawns dancing around in their little fish bowl. Since you’re such a swell guy. Let me show you.” The naked man swung his other hand up to fist in the shoulder of Hank’s shirt, and then he twisted his lower body like a gymnast on hanging rings, planted a bare foot on the underside of the balcony, and pushed off. There was no doubt that Hank outweighed the naked man, but somehow the force of his coiled launch pulled Hank over the edge with him.

  As he and the naked man fell to their deaths, Hank fought to stay conscious. In the end, whether he wanted to or not, his mind decided to check out, refusing to witness the fatal sudden stop. It was as though he were staring at the screen of an old television set and somebody pulled the plug. The image just shrank down to a little dot of white energy and then even that was gone.

  Chapter 21

  Visitation

  Outside The Land’s End Bed and Breakfast Hotel, Dr. Paula Burnett stood on the icy sidewalk and noted on her clipboard that Emma’s heart rate and blood pressure were once again within acceptable norms as she roused from sleep to start her morning routine. Contrary to the brisk weather, Paula still wore a stark-white lab coat, high heels and her hair tied up neatly into a tight bun.

  On the sidewalk, a tall, thin shadow appeared and loomed up over her own. Paula spun around and saw that it was only her colleague, Stanley. He was about six inches taller than her and today he wore a ridiculous suit with white gloves, a thin mustache, and a silver bow tie. He also carried an equally ludicrous black cane with a white tip.

  “You can choose any form you like and yet you choose that one,” he asked derisively. He must have noticed her twitch of disapproval.

  “Unlike you, I choose to blend in,” she answered dryly.

  “Ah, yes, I see… And you blend right in with your glaring white lab coat and clipboard. How many people do you see walking around like that in this dreadful weather?” Stanley breathed in deeply through his pointed nose, “Where’s your sense of style? Where’s your … imagination.”

  As much as she hated to admit it, Stanley did have a point. She wasn’t exactly dressing in warm functional layers like the locals did. The truth was she found this form the most comforting and writing things down on a clipboard always gave her a sense of organization, even if it was a bit silly given the circumstances. Besides, other than Sheriff Hank McCarthy, who always seemed to have his head on a swivel, most of the residents were so self-absorbed that they were rarely aware of her presence. Usually they went about their business from point A to point B almost as if they had blinders on. Still, she hated to concede to someone as patronizing as Stanley. “Well, you look ridiculous,” she snapped back. “And where the hell have you been anyway?”

  She must have hurt his feelings because he was pouting now. “May I remind you there are over two dozen candidates…,” he said, holding up two fingers on either side of the word candidates, “…in our fair little town of HavenPort.” His tone became a more impertinent one. “Your little junkie ballerina isn’t the only one. Besides it wouldn’t do for you to know everything I’m up to or it wouldn’t be a fair test for the candidates, now would it?”

  Unfortunately Stanley was right about that too, or at least their superior’s would agree with him. Her job was to observe the candidates as they went about their days, taking care to note down all their choices good or bad. Stanley’s sole job here was to provide the candidates with the temptation to make the wrong ones. Without him, there was no proof in the pudding, as it were.

  “Sorry, it’s just that ever
since something scared the life out of poor Emma on her first day,” she growled, collected herself, and began again. “If I hadn’t intervened in time, we would have had another dead candidate on our hands. I still haven’t figured out what frightened her so bad in the first place. This project can’t afford to have a high mortality rate let alone another loose cannon. Either way it’s not going to happen to one of my candidates ever again.”

  Stanley’s tone softened ever so slightly. “Paula. You had nothing to do with the death of that raging psychopath, Simon Privet. Although even I admit, his continued existence in this place is a tad bit … unnerving. That kind of thing was definitely not part of the design.”

  Maybe I have Stanley all wrong. Maybe under that snobbish exterior he’s really not such a bad guy.

  “Curious though,” he said, “Seeing as Emma and Hank are your primary responsibilities, weren’t you watching her on her first day?”

  Nope. He’s an elitist jerk.

  Paula could have told a lie and said she was watching someone else. Unless multiple candidates were in the same place at the same time, even they could only watch one at a time, and even that wasn’t 24/7. But she opted to tell the truth. “It was weird, one minute she was in her hotel room and the next, she was gone.”

  “What do you mean, gone?” Stanley asked, seemingly genuinely concerned, but she couldn’t be certain.

  “Like vanished. I couldn’t find her anywhere.”

  Stanley scoffed. “That’s impossible. You obviously weren’t looking hard enough. Did you inform management about this?”

  Paula hesitated before answering. She had heard of other candidates vanishing under the radar several times before but she’d never witnessed it firsthand. She was pretty sure this kind of lack of attention was what got her predecessor removed from the project, but then, maybe it hadn’t been his fault. “No. Not yet. I wanted to make sure Emma was okay first.”