"And what’s that?"
"The girl, Jane, is almost comatose the majority of the time. She isn’t exactly non-responsive, but it’s not like she’s going to be answering any questions, either."
"I am not sure I understand you, Doctor. She was questioned in the past and had all kinds of things to say. Maybe most of what she said didn’t make sense, but she was talking, alright."
"Yes, that’s true. Unfortunately, things have changed somewhat since then. Like I stated earlier, your men made a mess of things. The interrogations resulted in the poor girl’s inability to accept the memories they produced, which, in turn, led her to the state that she is currently in. Follow me, Detective, and see for yourself."
The men left the doctor’s office and made their way down a labyrinth of identical hallways and locked doors until they came upon an open room with a dozen or so people roaming around. The exterior walls were lined with big windows that were covered with iron grates, which overlooked the well-manicured lawn of the medical facility. Most of the people, who Nick assumed were patients, sat alone, fidgeting with their fingers or rocking back and forth in a state of sedated stupor. A few wandered about, talking to themselves in hushed voices while eyeing those around them suspiciously. In a rocking chair, facing out toward one of the windows, sat a girl with long brown hair and a pale complexion, her face expressionless and her eyes blank, seemingly unaware of everything around her. Nick knew in an instant that this was Jane.
The detective and the doctor approached slowly until Nick saw the girl’s face up close for the first time. He tensed up at the sight, a reaction that was not lost on the psychiatrist. The two men quietly walked out of the room and down one of the long hallways before the doctor spoke first.
"Are you going to tell me, or do I have to ask?"
"Her name’s not Jane – it’s Margaret."
Chapter Fourteen
Margaret
"I appreciate you coming out here, Detective, and now that we know who Jane – I mean Margaret – is, we might be able to better help her," Dr. Newsome said. "But even so, going too aggressively down the path you are suggesting could cause irreparable damage to the patient."
"I understand your concerns, Doctor, but I don’t see how we have any other options," Nick explained. "There are three other kids out there, and we have to do everything we can to try to find them. She’s the only one who knows what happened, and we need to find out as much as we can from her for those other kids to have any chance at all."
"With all due respect, how much chance do you think they have as it is? Jane – I mean Margaret – has been here three months already. There’s almost no chance of survival for the others. Besides, once her family’s been notified, I am sure she’ll be moved closer to them and you and your fellow officers will have to run everything through their people."
"True, Doctor, which is all the more reason we do this now. The longer we wait, the less chance we have of finding those kids, alive or dead. And you’re right, Margaret does have a family and we’ll have to respect their wishes. I might remind you that those other three kids have families, too. We have a duty to them to do everything we can for their kids."
Dr. Newsome said nothing, but he knew the detective was right. Sure, he could stall the man long enough until the girl was moved and he could wash his hands of the entire mess, but deep down he knew this wasn’t an option. He wanted to know what really happened out there as much as the policeman did. The doctor knew that, as risky as it was, having the girl face the truth was the only way she would ever be able to heal.
"You’ve seen the reports, Detective," Dr. Newsome said. "The tale she told about her experience in the swamp sounded more like a nightmare than anything plausible. Worse yet, ever since word got out about her wild story, the superstitious locals have been running scared. This, I blame on your people. No one from this facility would have spread such private and disturbing recollections of a mental patient. How do I know this won’t happen again?"
"You have legitimate concerns, Doctor," Nick replied.
He knew only too well that the doctor was probably right about the rumors being spread by people in his own department. His ill-advised stint with the Internal Affairs Division taught him how untrustworthy some of his fellow officers were. "Still, I don’t see any other course of action. Surely, there is some way we can move forward on this by working together."
"Well, there might be one way," Dr. Newsome replied.
"I’m all ears," Nick answered.
"I’ve been studying the patient’s unique situation closely since her arrival here and have been considering a more aggressive approach than the one we’ve taken. I was going to wait a little while longer to see if Jane – Margaret – would start to come along on her own. Of course, since she’ll most likely be transferred to another facility out-of-state soon, she’ll likely regress. A change in her surroundings and care by unfamiliar personnel will undoubtedly be traumatic for her, and she’ll need yet another period of adjustment to compensate. Whatever chance we have for a breakthrough at this time will be lost."
"Then, by all means, now is the time."
"It just very well may be."
"What did you have in mind, Doctor?"
"Hypnotherapy."
"Hypnosis? Is that real?"
"It’s very real, Detective, and it just might work."
The more the psychiatrist explained the procedure to Nick, the more he thought it was their best chance. As it was, the girl’s fragile state made it all but impossible to question her and expect to get anything useful in return. Putting the girl in a trance might enable them to probe the memories that she worked so hard to forget. As long as they proceeded with caution, they may even pull it off without the poor girl consciously reliving the terror that caused her so much pain. It wasn’t going to be easy, since both of the men were required to be present and interrogate the girl. The entire endeavor would require a great deal of preparation, finesse, and luck. Unfortunately for them, they had little time to prepare, but they agreed that it was in everyone’s best interest to move forward with the plan.
The two men discussed the procedure and what they wanted to accomplish. They knew they had one shot at it and were determined to get the most out of it that they could. It was agreed that they’d meet again the next morning before breakfast to map out their roles, then commence with the hypnosis at ten o’clock. As Nick was walking out, Dr. Newsome handed him an envelope.
"This is Margaret’s file," he said. "Read through it tonight and bring it back with you tomorrow morning. I trust I don’t need to tell you that it’s confidential."
"I understand, Doctor," Nick replied. "I’ll see you in the morning."
When Nick got home that night, he sat at his small kitchen table and looked through the contents of the file. There wasn’t much in it. A list of medications and treatments, all standard stuff as far as Nick could see, as well as a few notes by the various staff at St. Elizabeth’s that were, at best, vague and nondescript. Most of the details of the girl’s discovery and subsequent transfer to the hospital, the detective already knew.
He put the papers down and sighed. What a mess. If only the girl could answer a dozen questions or so without all of the drama they could just move on, he thought. Nick knew that he’d have to be patient with the girl, and he tried to be sympathetic, though he lacked the full comprehension of the girl’s incapacity. Mental illness was one thing he didn’t fully understand or appreciate, even with his vast experience dealing with the depraved and sick individuals that came with a career in law enforcement. He remembered how the girl sat in her chair staring blankly at the world around her. He knew what he was up against.
Nick started to put the contents of the file back into the envelope when he noticed a few pages of typewritten notes that he’d previously missed. Upon closer inspection, he saw that they were transcripts of a session that Dr. Newsome had held with Margaret when she was first admitted under his care. He re
ad through them with astonishment. He could clearly see that, at that time, the girl was not only responsive, she was full of details about her experience in the swamp. Her timeline was a complete jumble as she went back and forth without any discernible logical fashion. Then the whole thing ended abruptly, with the girl going into hysterics. Oh, this was going to be fun, thought the detective.
From what he could determine, the group got lost almost right away when they headed into the Atchafalaya Basin. They rode around in a vain effort to find their way only to eventually come across a house hidden way out in the swamp. A quick search had been made, and no survivors were found. After that, the story took a wild turn. Random details of bad weather, being lost, snakes and alligators, and infighting amongst the crew. All of this deteriorated in tales of a decrepit antebellum plantation inhabited by a swamp monster and days of trampling around in the wetlands without food or water.
"Fucking swamp monster?" Nick laughed to himself. There was little doubt that the girl had been terrified at being lost all alone in the swamp, surrounded by cold-blooded hungry reptiles with which she was completely unfamiliar. It was only natural that her brain would misinterpret her surroundings in the dire situation that she was in.
Nick started to understand the magnitude of what the psychiatrist dealt with every day. He began to understand the very real existence of the unreal when faced with the unexplainable. When trapped in the desert without water, some people see mirages; when afraid in the dark, some people see ghosts; when alone in the woods, some people see Bigfoot, unexplained lights in the sky and some people see flying saucers. Lost in the swamp, Margaret saw a monster.
Chapter Fifteen
Trance
Nickolas arrived promptly at six a.m. at St. Elizabeth’s and was escorted to Dr. Newsome’s office without delay. He waited another forty-five minutes for the doctor to arrive. Nick was not amused.
"Sorry I’m late, Detective," Dr. Newsome said dismissively. "I hope you brought Margaret’s file with you."
Nick could see that the doctor was used to being in charge. No explanation as to why he was tardy was offered and no concern for the waste of the detective’s time was apparent. Nick was sure that if the tables had been turned, the good doctor would be beside himself with indignation. I bet he’s a real gem to work with for all of the nurses and other healthcare professionals, thought the detective. Of course, Nick knew he was depending on the doctor so he could move forward with the investigation, and he had no choice but to put up with the man’s inconsideration. Deep down, the detective figured the doctor also knew this and was enjoying every minute of it. Fucking passive-aggressive son-of-a-bitch, thought Nick.
"Yes, I did," answered Nick. "Pretty interesting reading, particularly the part about the swamp monster that lives on a plantation in the swamp."
Dr. Newsome looked at the detective to see if he could detect a smirk, but the man was poker faced. Good, the doctor thought; no need for sarcasm at the expense of the poor, distraught young lady.
"We should go over a few things about the procedure as well as lay down a few ground rules before we begin," the doctor stated.
"Absolutely, Doctor," Nick said. "You’re the expert here. I’ll be happy to follow along and help in any way I can."
"Good, I am glad to hear that. Here is a list of questions that I would like to address if we get the opportunity," Dr. Newsome said as he handed a pad with some barely-legible writing on it. "Feel free to add a few of your own, as long as I approve of them first, and we’ll see what we get to when the procedure commences. I’m not sure how successful we’ll be, nor how long we’ll be able to maintain the questions before things go south."
"Of course, Dr. Newsome. I’ve jotted down a few questions of my own, although I see that you’ve already included a number of them," Nick said while glancing over the list. "I can’t help but notice that a good portion of your questions have to do with Margaret’s overall therapy and not so much with the investigation of the missing search party. While I appreciate your attempt at using this opportunity to provide as much therapy as possible for the poor girl, I do want to remind you of why we’re here."
"Of why we’re here, or of why you’re here, Detective?"
"I’m not going to play games with you, Doctor. You know what I’m getting at. If we only have a short window of opportunity, we need, I need, to get to the heart of the matter. I thought we’d agreed on that issue."
Dr. Newsome stared at the detective for a moment before relenting. "Of course, Detective. You may have a point. We can get to the heart of the matter, as you put it, and see where it leads us."
The men looked over the list of questions, scratching out a few of them and numbering the rest. The overall strategy was to prompt Margaret into recalling her experiences in the swamp and, in particular, the fates and whereabouts of the missing crew. They would attempt to guide her in a logical, chronological order to help Nick in his own search for the three. Once the list of questions was compiled and edited, Dr. Newsome accompanied Nick down to one of the unoccupied rooms where the therapy would take place.
The room was moderately comfortable, actually very comfortable compared to the rest of the facility. The floor was covered with a medium gray carpet and the walls were painted a light brown pastel color. Soft, indirect lighting made the room almost too dark, but relaxing. The only sound heard was the faint rustling of the air blowing out of the vent overhead. A comfortable, softly-cushioned chair sat in the center of the room facing two wooden chairs and a one-way mirror that hid a tripod and video camera. Doctor Newsome gave some last-minute instructions to his assistants and re-emphasized the importance of keeping things calm and low-key during the interview.
"The last time we addressed what happened out there, poor Margaret became hysterical," Dr. Newsome explained. "After that, she withdrew into an almost catatonic state. Let’s try not to let that happen again, Detective."
Nick nodded and waited for the arrival of their guest.
Margaret appeared at the doorway, escorted by one of the nurses and trailed by two orderlies, just in case. The girl barely displayed any knowledge of where she was or who was around her. She sat in the chair provided and stared straight ahead without making a sound. Dr. Newsome sat in the chair directly in front of the girl, and Nick sat in the chair at his side. Between them, perched on a small, round table sat an object that Nick guessed had something to do with the procedure. The doctor glanced toward the mirror on the wall, and then nodded to the nurse, who nodded back before leaving the room. Nick knew that the girl had been injected with a mild sedative prior to her arrival and figured that the nurse’s nod confirmed this to the doctor.
The lights dimmed even further, apparently controlled by the assistants in the other room, and Dr. Newsome reached over and carefully flicked a switch on the back of the object that sat on the table in the middle of the dark room. A strange, rotating strobe light flickered on and off in quick succession, accompanied by the light clicking sound of a metronome. A center disk spiraled in a counter-clockwise motion, drawing one’s gaze into a center that had no end. The apparatus oddly reminded Nick of the satellite images he watched on the news months before – those unforgettable pictures of a vast, swirling cloud of destruction descending on his state, his city, his home. He choked back the tears that suddenly welled up in his eyes, thinking how weirdly appropriate it was for the ghost of Katrina to draw the broken girl closer to her darkest fears. Moments later, the doctor began.
"Margaret, do you hear me?"
The girl blinked at the sound of her name, spoken to her for the first time in months. Her lips pursed as if she were about to say something, but she withdrew again into the nether reaches of her mind.
"Margaret, I want you to listen to me. I want you to focus on the shiny object in front of you."
For a few moments, there was no reaction from the girl. Nick’s heart began to sink as the girl showed no sign of understanding. Then, Margaret’s eyes moved to
the object in front of her. Her gaze fixated on the flashing light, her head almost imperceptibly nodding in time to the clicking noise.
"Good," Dr. Newsome continued. "Watch the flashing light closely. You can feel it as it draws you in. You see nothing else, feel nothing else, see only the light, hear only my voice."
Silence enveloped the room. Margaret’s eyes stared intently at the circle of light until they began to close.
"Now, you are getting sleepy. Your eyelids are growing heavy. It’s okay, allow them to close. You see the light in your mind. You are sleeping, but still awake. You see the flashing light; you hear my voice. You are asleep, but still awake. You see the flashing light; you hear my voice. You are asleep."
A moment of silence passed, only the sound of the clicking metronome and air vent overhead could be heard.
The doctor continued, "What is your name?"
"Margaret," the girl whispered.
"Margaret, you are with your friends. You are in a boat, heading out to rescue the poor people stranded by the storm. Tell me where you are"
"I’m sitting next to Ash, Jerry’s up front."
"Who else is there?"
"Corey. He’s driving the boat. It’s hot outside, but, thank God, there’s a breeze. The water stinks."
"Where are you going?"
"We’re on a small river. I don’t know where we’re heading, but Corey says he knows."
The doctor paused for a moment, allowing the girl’s memory to guide her.
"How long have you been on the river now?"
"The river’s gone. We’re on some canal. It’s hard to tell where we are. It all looks the same. Jerry says we’re lost. I think Ash is scared; she’s squeezing my hand. It’s sticky. There’s bugs everywhere."
Dr. Newsome paused again before taking a deep breath and continuing the questioning with a soothing, comforting tone.
Billy: A Tale Of Unrelenting Terror Page 7
