Never Fear

by Heather Graham

  Frank ripped at the tarp. He pulled it in one direction and then in the other, fighting to find the edge. Finally, after several more seconds, he found the edge of the tarp. He pulled and pulled until it slipped off his head. Quickly, he looked around for the person that had said those terrifying words to him. He was alone…

  As fast as he could, Frank grabbed at the tools. His arms filled with the drain snake, plunger, and a tool box, he made a run for the steps. The tools clanged in their metal container. His boots splashed through the puddles, spraying his pant legs with mud.

  He ascended the stairs expeditiously; the wind pushed at his back. With his elbow, he pushed down on the handle as a bolt of lightning illuminated the sky. It was followed shortly by a crack of thunder. He heart pounded in his chest. His elbow slipped off the door handle. The wind’s voice returned and whispered to him, Go inside, Fraaank.

  His elbow caught on the latch as the voice spoke. The wind gusted and shoved the heavy door open. It slammed into the wall from the force. A loud thud filled the air. In a panic Frank’s tools crashed onto the hardwood floor. Nixon rushed back into the room from the patient wing.

  “You all right, Frank? “Nixon asked, with a concerned look on his face. “You are white as a sheet.”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just cold and wet,” Frank lied.

  “Shut that door would ya? I don’t want to catch my death in here. “

  “Yeah. Sorry, damn wind is vicious,” Frank said.

  “Sure is,” Nixon replied. “Grab your tools; I’ll let you in the wing again before I head to lunch.”

  Frank picked up his tools and walked to where Nixon was standing.

  “Who is replacing you while you go to lunch?” he inquired.

  “We ain’t got that many guards, so I just go to lunch and come back. It’s only an hour or so. The nurses go at the same time so as they ain’t gotta worry ‘bout bein’ let in and out,” Nixon said matter-of-factly.

  “Wait. Let me get this straight. You are going to lock me in there with a bunch of psychos? ALONE? You can’t do that. What if I need to get out? What if something happens and I need help? “ Frank pleaded.

  “Listen Frank, they ain’t gonna do nothin’ and you’ll be fine. The nurses just finished their rounds and medicated the ones who need it. It’s gonna be quiet as a church in there. It’s nap time,” Nixon said with a smile.

  They walked back down the hall to the door at the entrance to the disturbed patient wing. Nixon fumbled with his keys, unlocked and opened the door. Frank stepped in and set his tools down by the first door on the west side of the hallway. Frank, still holding his keys, located the one that opens the patient doors and spun it off the key-ring.

  “Here ya go. ‘Member, only one door at a time. Don’t want a hall full of coo-coos,” Nixon laughed and handed Frank the key.

  He took it and slid it in his pocket. Nixon backed out of the corridor and fingered through his keys. Frank heard the clang again and said his goodbye to Nixon.

  “See ya in an hour,” Nixon said.

  Nixon’s footsteps faded as he walked away, leaving Frank cold, wet, and alone. He leaned back against the steel door next to where he set his tools. You’ll be fine. It’s not that bad. Nothing bad can happen to you in here. Just do your job.

  Thinking that all is fine and well–in the presence of the sun–on a well-lit day. But it’s hard to swallow your own bullshit in a hall of crazy people, where the lights are barely lit, and sounds of moaning and whispering filled the air. I hate this fucking job! And I hate these fucking psychos!

  He knelt and opened his tool box, then selected a handful of tools he thought he may need. He also secured the snake and the plunger. This was going to be messy. He slipped his hand into the pocket, removed the key, and inserted it in the lock. Frank took a deep breath and gave it a turn. Clang. The door opened.

  Frank took a moment to evaluate the room before entering. The foul smell was significantly less in this room. It must be past the blockage. There was no overflowing mountain of fecal paste. That was a relief. He decided that this was a good room to start in since he wouldn’t have to lie in any shit.

  Frank anxiously entered the room and scanned for the patient that lived there. He gave it a once over but saw no patient. He looked again, more frantically. No one was in the room but him, it appeared.

  This room was set up exactly like the last. The metal bed against the far left wall. The toilet bolted to the wall near the door. And the cabinet in the far right corner. Frank walked in and set his tools down. He was relieved that he started in this room. There was a distinct possibility that he may not have to be in an occupied cell. If he could manage to snake and plunge out whatever the clog was then maybe, just maybe--

  Frank reached behind the toilet and found the water shut-off and twisted it. It squeaked closed. Frank gave the toilet a flush in hopes that the water would clear out of the bowl. It partially worked. He laughed to himself as he heard a toilet gurgle down the corridor and imagined the flow of shit pouring out of the toilet.

  This was the best it was going to get so he located the half inch wrench and went to work loosening the bolts. Several minutes later the nuts were off the bolts and all there was to do was pull the toilet up. Frank knelt and grabbed onto the bowl. He pulled. The bolts creaked as the bowl slid off. A small trickle of water leaked out of the back of the toilet. That wasn’t so bad.

  Frank grabbed the snake. It was nothing more than a round metal cable that you pushed into the drain. On one end it had an auger bit and on the other there was a handle with a crank on it. As you turned the crank, the auger spun, chewing away at the blockage. This was usually the most effective method of clearing a drain.

  He pushed the snake into the drain. This particular one had fifty feet of cable that you could feed in. Frank fed the line in and felt the pipe curve. There was no blockage yet so he continued to push. Eighteen or so feet in, the snake stopped. He gave it a push. Nothing. This must be the blockage. Frank began to crank the auger.

  Outside the thunder continued. It was much louder that it had been. He could hear it inside the building now and it sounded as loud as it had been when he was standing outside. Thunder cracked again. Frank could hear movement down the corridor. They must be scared. He continued to crank the auger.

  Whatever this is, it is one hell of a block. He cranked the auger faster and put more pressure on the cable. More thunder cracked. The walls rumbled from the concussion. A blood curdling scream pierced the air. Moans increased as the screams intensified. The patients began banging on the doors. Nonsensical chatter filled the air. Frank could occasionally make out words.

  One patient relatively close was screaming and intermittently yelling, “They’re raping me! They’re raping me! Jesus’ baby is dead! I have the devil’s baby in me now!”

  Frank stood, his body full of nervous energy. He stepped into the hall and looked down the corridor. It was empty. He listened closely to the woman rambling.

  “Fuck me with your devil cock!

  I’ll have your demon seed!

  Now put your dick inside of me and we’ll begin to breed!” she intoned.

  “Jesus Christ,” Frank whispered to himself. This place is crazy. Frank had heard enough and walked back into the room and knelt next to the toilet. He grabbed the snake and cranked. The blockage dislodged. There was now a pushing force on the end of the snake. It must be water backup.

  Frank began to re-spool the snake. Again, thunder cracked. There was a bang at the end of the corridor. Frank jumped at the noise. He clamped the snake to the side of the drain and stood. What the fuck is that? The banging echoed down the hall again. He walked to the hall. Thunder cracks continued to rumble against the walls. The lights flickered.

  “Holy fuck… This is not ok,” he said. He glanced at his watch. It had only been twenty minutes since Nixon had left for lunch. The lights flickered again as the banging continued. He slowly crept down the hall toward its source. H
is arms filled with goose bumps. From the cell next to him a blood curdling scream blasted into his ears. He jumped and ran several cells further down the hall toward the banging.

  Half a minute later he found himself standing in front of the cell with the pounding. On the doors there were circular portholes with metal covers. Frank had seen one of the nurses using one when he first arrived. He reached for the cover and slid it to the left. The banging stopped. Curious he leaned forward and peered in.

  Nothing.

  The room looked empty. He pressed his face into the glass peephole.

  Nothing.

  Frank slid his hand into his pocket and felt for the key. Shit, it’s in the other cell. He was glad that he didn’t see anything inside the cell and that he didn’t have the key. These people are fucking terrifying. What the hell was I thinking?

  He hastily returned back to the first cell. His snake was lying on the ground, completely out of the pipe when he entered the room. What the fuck? Must have been some kind of pressure in there, to push out six feet of snake. Frank grabbed the snake and fed it back into the pipe. Exactly at the same point, he ran into the blockage again. This perplexed Frank. How did the pressure blow out my snake but not the block?

  He reluctantly began to crank the auger again. The blockage moved and he began to pull out the block once more. With about two feet of snake left in the pipe, the block got caught. Damn, almost there. He cranked the auger. The clog moved. He pulled the snake free of the pipe just as the thunder cracked again.

  This time the lights went out.

  Water and several solid, wet objects flew from the pipe, striking Frank mid-chest. He emitted a guttural howl and scrambled to wipe off whatever struck him. He stood, knees shaking. A wail broke into the silent darkness. Frank screamed again.

  “FUCK!”

  The banging resumed down the hall. Thunder roared in the atmosphere. Frank heard something move in the room behind him. He sprang to his feet. He stuck his arms out and searched for the doorway. He had a flashlight in his tool box. He had to get it.

  Another noise, a creak, came from directly behind him.

  “Who’s there?” Frank yelled.

  Footsteps padded across the floor inside the room. Frank felt a quick breeze of air rush past him.

  In a frenzy, Frank grabbed the wall and pushed his way to the doorway. He felt the steel door and rushed into the corridor, slamming it shut behind him. Quickly, he dropped to the floor and searched for his toolbox. He found it and removed the top tray, spilling its contents onto the floor. Ratchets and wrenches clanged against the cement.

  There, at the bottom of the toolbox, Frank’s hand found it. The familiar cylindrical shape of his flashlight. He grabbed it tightly with two hands. His thumb searched for the switch. He flicked it.

  “AGH!!!!AGH! AGH!” filled the air. Frank turned the flashlight toward the sounds.

  “OH FUCK!” he yelled. There, in his beam of light, stood a pale-skinned woman with ratty brown hair. She was dressed in a white and blue nightgown and was clutching her hair, pulling it out from her scalp.

  She screamed again, pulling out more gnarled hair from her scalp, “WHA! WHA! RHOA!”

  She continued to scream and pull her hair out, but now she began to walk toward him.

  “GET BACK!” Frank yelled.

  He grabbed the metal tool tray from the floor and swung it at the woman as she advanced. Her face was sunken in like starving Ethiopian’s.

  Frank shook as he swung the tray at her, but missed. She wouldn’t stop. Finally close enough, Frank took another swing. This time it connected. The tray made a sickening thwack as it collided with her head. Immediately Frank saw a gash open in her forehead. It wasn’t enough to put her down though. It was merely a glancing blow.

  Another scream pierced the air. She extended her hair-filled hands out at him, then lunged. He swung the tray and it connected. Firmly. The woman fell to the floor. Frank stood and swung the tray at her head. He struck her over and over until she stopped moving.

  He ran to the door at the end of the corridor. The door where he had last seen Nixon. He grabbed the handle and shook it, all the while he was yelling.

  “Let me out! HELP! I need out! They are going to fucking kill me!”

  His eyes blurred with tears. He felt them rolling down his cheeks.

  No one came.

  They could not hear his screams. What am I going to do? Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God. He shook the door again, pulling as hard as he could. He pushed. And kicked. And shoved. And punched, until his sobs overcame him and he slunk to the floor.

  He sat with his back against the steel door. His flashlight shined on the feet of the woman he had just clubbed with a tool tray. Other patients could be heard milling about but each was locked in their room. Where did she come from? How?

  Several minutes passed as he sat there sobbing. Frank checked his watch. Fifteen more minutes until Nixon returns. Then he can get me the fuck out of here! The woman’s feet twitched in the light. He couldn’t sit in the hall and watch this for fifteen minutes. What if she woke up? He grabbed the flashlight and stood. Overwhelmed with fear, he bolted into the now open cell.

  Frank entered the cell. The room’s cabinet was illuminated by the thin beam of light. The doors were now open. There seemed plenty of room for a small woman to fit in there. Frank’s focus locked on the cabinet. She must have been in there the whole time. He noticed some writing on the back interior wall of the cabinet. Slowly, he stepped closer to inspect the words.

  “Jesus Christ,” Frank murmured quietly.

  Scratched into the back wall of the cabinet was a single word. HELP! He inspected it closer. It looked to have been scratched into the paint by fingernails. Frank stepped closer and examined it further. Small droplets of wet blood were smeared throughout the scratched surface. He knelt and reached forward to touch a small white object, a fingernail that protruded from the scratches. A thunder clap broke through the darkness.

  The patients began to scream again. Frank jumped at the sudden noise. He jumped, and struck his head. His foot slipped on the wet floor. His body struck the cement floor with a thud. His head followed suit and cracked against the floor. Frank’s vision flashed white momentarily. The flashlight flew from his hand. He grabbed at the back of his head with both hands and winced in pain.

  Frank lay motionless on the floor. He stayed like this until he regained his vision. He opened his eyes. His vision still blurred. Light illuminated the area in front of his face. The flashlight must be just above my head. He reached for it. His hand grasped onto an object. It was wet and softer than he expected. He pulled it into the beam of light. His eyes strained to focus. As they did, something horrific appeared.

  A semi-rotted rat face glared back at him. One eye was popped out of its skull and hung on by a meaty thread. Frank lost it. His body began to convulse. He turned his head and spewed vomit. It splashed onto the floor. He threw the rat carcass and pushed himself up off the floor. Tears filled his eyes. He reached for the flashlight.

  As he did, he saw them. Seven…eight… No! Ten! Ten more rat bodies lay strewn on the floor. All were in various stages of decay. Frank spewed more vomit. More tears ran down his face. He grabbed his flashlight and ran out the door. He shined it at the exit door. Still no Nixon.

  Then he heard it.

  The sound came from the floor next to him. Where he had left the twitching girl. He directed his beam of light at the spot. Now, where there had been only one, there were two. A female form dressed in white pants and a white shirt sat hunched over the still quivering body.

  Frank froze.

  Where had she come from? This second woman moved her head around the neck area of the girl lying on the floor. Frank stared as she moved.

  He cried out, pleading, “What are you doing? Please… Stop!”

  His body quaked as she turned her head toward him. They locked eyes. Blood covered her nose and mouth. It was the sniffer! He stared at Frank. He s
tared back. Neither moved.

  A familiar clang sounded from behind Frank. The door opened.

  “Frank? You in here? “ Nixon yelled.

  Frank yelled incoherently, “Ugh! I gotta-- FUH! AGH!”

  He ran past Nixon, and nearly knocked him down. He ran down the hall toward the entrance. Frank heard footsteps behind him. He heard thunder crashing above him. He heard his heart pounding. He heard these things until he heard them no more. His brain rang, and filled his ears with a buzzing sound. Frank grasped the handle to the exit door. He slammed his shoulder into it as he gave the handle a turn.

  His body bounced off the door and he fell to the ground. He scrambled. Unable to get to his feet Frank grabbed the handle while still on his hands and knees. A gust of wind shoved the door open. He looked outside.

  The sky flashed with near-continuous lightning. His ears filled only with buzzing. It felt like he was trapped in a silent picture. Frank crawled outside onto the stoop. He rolled down the steps, still unable to stand. He crawled through puddles in the drive while he made his way to his truck.

  Trapped in the buzzing, Frank reached for the truck’s door handle. Still on his hands and knees, he grabbed hold. He pushed the wet, chrome button in. The door opened slightly, the wind pushing against it. Frank whipped it open further and grabbed the steering wheel.

  He hoisted himself in the truck. He hastily inserted and turned the key. The gauges on the dash illuminated. Frank grabbed the shifter and yanked it into drive. He mashed the pedal to the floor. The truck lurched forward, causing the driver’s door to slam shut.

  Sprays of dirt and mud flew into the air behind the speeding vehicle. Frank glanced into the rear view mirror. He saw several people standing outside the Sanitarium. He could only make out Nixon and von Haussen.

  His eyes went back to the road. The accelerator was still slammed to the floor. Trees whipped by the windows as the truck sped forward. Frank cried. His tears ran down his face and dripped onto his muddy shirt. I knew I shouldn’t have gone there. Fucking psychos--

  He wiped his eyes. Standing in the road, right in front of his truck, was a woman. She was soaked with rain. What remaining hair she had was matted to her face. It was the woman he had struck with the tool tray!