by Amy Cross
“Just your name,” I say, “and the fact that you're down here and almost no-one upstairs talks about you or seems to know anything about you. And judging by this door, it looks like someone's really keen to keep you locked in this room. Why are they so determined to keep you locked up?”
“They're not,” he says. “They want me to come out of here, but I won't. You have to tell them to stop trying to get me out. I'm staying here forever. Until the whole fucking planet crumbles to dust and gets blown away on the solar winds, and even then, I'll stay in here”.
“Pretty dramatic,” I say. “What's so special about that room, anyway?”
“You wouldn't like the perfect room?” John asks. “If you found the one perfect room in the whole universe, the room with everything that you could possibly want, would you ever want to leave?”
I think about it for a moment. “I don't think I'd want to live in one room all my life,” I say eventually.
“You don't understand,” he says. “But you will. You all will. Because sooner or later, this whole fucking place is going to come tumbling down, and you'll all die unless you give him what you want. Then you'll understand. You'll all be begging for mercy. Not from me. From him. But I'll be watching. And I'll be safe, in here. I'll be watching you all die from this little window”.
I look into his eyes. He seems to really believe what he's saying, although that doesn't mean too much. Upstairs, there's a guy who constantly talks about aliens who landed in the car park last week and put a probe up his butt. He seems to really believe what he's saying, too. Then again, the difference with John Tarmey is that he doesn't seem to be trying to sound convincing. In fact, John Tarmey sounds so far 'out there', it's impossible to entirely dismiss what he's saying. Plus, there's the question of why Dr. Penfold and his colleagues have apparently agreed to let John stay down here. Why haven't they just hauled him out of the room and made him face his fears?
“I just want to talk,” I say.
“There's no-one here,” he replies. “I died a long time ago. I'm just waiting for the rest of the world to catch up”.
“You remind me of someone I know,” I tell him. The truth is, he reminds me a little of Patrick. But at least this guy can, or will, talk to me.
“That's not a good thing,” he replies. “You should get out of here. It's not a safe place for you to be”.
“Having fun?” asks a voice from behind me.
I turn to find Dr. Lucas has crept up on me. I look back at the door and see John Tarmey's face withdrawing into the shadows.
“You're not supposed to be down here,” Dr. Lucas says. “But I kind of feel like you know that already, don't you?”
I look back along the corridor. Where the hell is Alex? He was supposed to warn me if anyone was coming. “Well...” I say, mumbling slightly. “I didn't say any signs specifically telling me not to come down here”.
Lucas puts his arm around my shoulder and leads me away from John Tarmey's door. I like Dr. Lucas; he's fairly young and he doesn't seem to have that cold, harsh demeanor that defines Dr. Penfold. “John Tarmey is a very special patient,” he says. “We don't talk about him much because, well, we don't really know what we're doing with him. And to be honest, we treat him differently to how we treat the rest of you. And we can't let people know that, because consistency is the key thing”.
We get to the end of the corridor, and Alex is waiting around the corner.
“Sorry,” Alex says. “He snuck up on me. Do you understand?”
“Yeah,” I say. “He snuck up on me too”.
“You can't come down here again,” Dr. Lucas says to us. “John Tarmey is completely off limits. In fact, this whole basement area is off limits. You're not allowed in this part of the building, and you have to obey the rules”.
Realizing that it's pointless to argue with him, I nod and act all passive. “Sorry, Dr. Lucas,” I say. “We won't come down here again”.
I'm not sure he entirely falls for my attempt to seem innocent, but eventually he turns to Alex and pats him on the shoulder. “Scoot off upstairs, Alex. I need to show Sophie something in private”.
“Okay,” says Alex, turning and walking away. Now there's a display of passivity that's completely genuine.
“Come on, Soph,” says Alex, leading me along a corridor. “It's alright if I call you Soph, isn't it?”
“I prefer Sophie,” I say. After all, it's only one extra syllable.
“Okay, Sophie,” he says as we reach a set of steps and head up. “We're going to try something different with you today. That's why I came to find you. And I think it's going to be fun”.
When we get upstairs, Dr. Lucas opens the back door and indicates that I should go out into the garden. As soon as I step outside, however, I realize there are four rather large men waiting for me, with a van. I turn back to Dr. Lucas.
“Don't be alarmed, Sophie,” he says. “They're just going to take you to another facility for some treatment that we can't give you here. You'll be back with us by dinner. It's just a little road trip for a few hours. Is that okay?”
I look at the men. They don't look particularly friendly. In fact, dressed all in black, they seem kind of intimidating.
“I'd rather not,” I say, turning to go back inside. Inevitably, Dr. Lucas puts a firm hand on my shoulder.
“I'd like you to go by choice,” he says, “but if you refuse, I can have these gentlemen take you by force”.
“Does Dr. Penfold know about this?” I ask.
“It's Dr. Penfold's idea,” Dr. Lucas says. “He's always been a proponent of electro-shock treatment and -”
“Electro-shock?” I ask, interrupting him. “You're not doing that to me!”
“Relax,” he says. “It's not like you see in movies. It's not big jolts of electricity to your head. It's a series of very thin wires inserted into your brain and stimulated with relatively small currents. You'll barely notice it”.
I look at the four men waiting for me, and the large, dark van.
“I don't think I want to go,” I say, trying to stall for time while I think of a more effective way out of this.
“You'll be glad of it once it's over,” says Dr. Lucas.
At that moment, something strange happens. Something I never expected, something I never saw coming. As I look at the van, I start to cry. It's completely irrational, and it makes no sense at all. I've never been much of a crier, but tears start rolling down my face. “I don't want to go,” I say, trying to sound firm despite my lower lip starting to wobble. I turn and try to walk back into the building, but Dr. Lucas grabs me and then the four other men come over and start pulling me toward the van.
“No!” I shout. “No!”
“See you this evening, Sophie,” says Dr. Lucas, smiling. “It'll be fine, I promise you. I wouldn't let them take you if I had any doubts that this is the best course of action for you”.
"I'll show you!" I shout. "I'll take you to where he lives! I'll take you straight to his house! I'll even take you to Gothos!"
Although I struggle as hard as I can, I can't stop the men getting me to the van and throwing me into the back. They slam the door shut and lock it before they go around to climb in at the front.
Dr. Lucas comes over to the van door. “Please don't cry,” he says. “We have to think about the baby as well now. If you've given birth, there's a baby out there and God knows where it is or who's looking after it. We have to get your head in gear so we can help you and help your baby”.
“Patrick has it,” I say through the tears.
“Patrick's not real,” says Dr. Lucas. “Therefore, Patrick doesn't have your baby. Let's just hope that someone's taking care of it, okay? There are...” He pauses, seemingly a little uncomfortable. “Well, Sophie, there are consequences for you if it turns out that you gave birth and then you allowed any harm to come to your baby. So it's in your own best interests for us all to get this resolved as quickly as possible”. He bangs the side of t
he van. “If we don't do this, something bad might happen”.
The engine starts and the van starts to pull away. I stare at Dr. Lucas as he, and the facility, recede into the distance. There's no way I can allow this to happen. I can't have electro-shock therapy. There's nothing wrong with me, apart from maybe a spot of amnesia... well, okay, apparently a whole year of amnesia, but I don't need electro-shock to get me out of this mess. I need to get in touch with Patrick and find out what the hell he's done to me. As the van speeds away from the facility, I start banging on the sides. They have to let me out of here. They have to let me go and find Patrick. They have to understand!
Dr. Penfold
Ennis Penfold, my grandfather, was most certainly a murderous old bigot, but he was also the man who sat me on his knee, told me stories about his life, and taught me to hunt. He was in many ways a good and decent man. To those he loved, he was true and loyal. He would have given his life to save me, or to save my mother. So although he had his bad sides, he was very much a product of his time. He went too far, obviously, when he lynched those men. But despite all of that, despite everything that the history books say... He was not a bad man, and I feel a burning rage at the thought of John Tarmey tarnishing his good name.
“Any sign of the child?” asks a voice from behind me.
I turn suddenly, midway through pouring myself a glass of whiskey. I had no idea there was anyone else in my office. But he's here. He's standing in the corner, his features hidden by the shadows.
“Not yet,” I say. “I've sent her off for some treatment at another clinic. Electro-shock therapy”.
Silence for a moment. My visitor, though familiar, chooses to remain in the shadows so that I can't see his face properly. “How's that gonna help?” he asks eventually. He takes a sip from his own glass of whiskey. Nice. Obviously he helped himself to the contents of my drinks cabinet while he was waiting for me.
“If it unblocks her amnesia,” I say, trying to explain everything clearly, “it could help us to discover where she left the child”.
I hear laughter from the darkness. “Dr. Penfold, I don't think we're going to have much luck even if we do track the child down. Not at first, anyway. I think you know why”.
I take a sip of whiskey. “Patrick,” I say.
“He's dangerous,” says the voice. “He's unstoppable. Well, not completely unstoppable. I stopped him, once, but he managed to get going again. But if he's got that child, we sure ain't gonna be able to just waltz in and take the little angel”.
“So what's your plan?” I ask. “If you don't think you can do anything to stop him, or to take the child, what's the point of all this?”
There's silence for a moment. “If we can get that child, we can use it as the seed to start a new race of vampires. No need to cut it up and figure out how it works, we can just breed it with humans and wait for our little army to arise. Benjamin has everything all figured out. He just needs the baby”.
“And that's really what you want?” I ask. “A new race of these... creatures?”
“Of course, doctor,” says the voice. “It's been decades since the vampires were wiped out. It's high time we got ourselves a new generation, only this time they won't be skulking around in the shadows. They'll be the dominant species on the whole damn planet, and that's when we'll be able to control everything”.
I pour another whiskey, and then I glance at my watch. It's almost lunchtime. Sophie should be almost finished at the other facility by now. The van should be ready to bring her back, and then we can see how the electro-shock therapy went. “You want to create a new race of vampires, just so they can be your slaves?” I ask.
“Nothing wrong with slaves,” says the voice. “Your grandfather liked slaves, didn't he, Dr. Penfold?”
I drink the glass of whiskey in one gulp. “John Tarmey mentioned Patrick today. At first I thought it was a coincidence, but then I realized there must be a link. What's going on?”
“Tarmey's a piece of the puzzle,” says the voice. “An unimportant piece, but a piece nonetheless. You'll see. His time's nearly up anyway. His job's nearly done”.
The phone on my desk rings. I pick it up. “Penfold,” I say.
“Dr. Penfold, it's Malcolm Armitage from Stevenage,” says the voice on the other end. “Your patient hasn't arrived yet, I just wanted to check if you're still sending her”.
Instantly, I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. “They should have been there over an hour ago,” I say.
“So they're still coming?” Armitage says.
“Yes,” I say. “Let me check up on them. I'll call you back”. I disconnect the call, and then I dial another number. After a while, with no-one picking up, I put the phone down.
“Problem?” asks the voice.
“Sophie should have reached the other facility more than an hour ago,” I say, "but there's no sign of her. And the van drivers aren't answering their phone”.
There's more laughter from behind the curtain. “Sounds like the vampire's got a few things to say about your plan, Dr. Penfold. I hope you've got a back-up, 'cause I'm gonna be very unhappy if you start making mistakes”.
“No-one's made a mistake,” I say. "It's just not possible."
“Then where's the van?” the voice asks. “Where's the girl?”
“They're on course,” I say. “I have this all planned out. They're just a little delayed, they probably had a flat tire or something”.
“You really believe that?” asks the voice, starting to sound angry. “The only thing you had to do was get the girl to answer our questions before the fucking vampire turned up. You couldn't even do that. Your grandfather would be ashamed of you. He knew how to make someone talk when it mattered”.
“It'll be okay,” I say. “And don't you dare talk about my grandfather”.
"You need to cut down on the righteous anger," the voice replies, "and focus on doing your job. The Watchers have sent a lot of money your way. I'd hate for them to get angry if you don't deliver, but I'm afraid their reaction is entirely out of my control."
I try to call the guards' van again, but there's still no answer. “I'll send someone to check on them,” I say. “One way or another, this is still going according to plan”.
Sophie
After about twenty minutes, I stop banging on the sides of the van and sit back. There's no point wasting energy now; I might as well wait to see if there's any chance that I can escape once we get to wherever we're going. Besides, I feel like a fool, raging against something that seems totally inevitable. I glance over at the small window that opens into the front cab, where I can just about make out the four guards who have been assigned to accompany me on this journey. The fact that there are four of them seems a little excessive, but I guess I'll take it as a compliment. They sure seem determined to get me where I'm going.
Eventually, I find myself starting to fall asleep; although I try to stay awake, I sit in the corner and my head starts to droop. I haven't been sleeping properly lately, and the rhythm of the van's movement is quite pleasant after a while. As I start to sleep, I find myself dreaming of a simpler time when I used to visit Patrick and Vincent in their underground home, when Vincent would open his old books and tell me some arcane story while Patrick would skulk about nearby. It's hard to believe that Vincent's really dead, and I can't help feeling that Patrick has changed since that terrible night. It's as if Vincent kept Patrick calm and made sure he made good decisions. Lately, Patrick has seemed more willful, more determined, more... dangerous.
Suddenly there's a loud bang and the van skids to a halt. I fall onto the floor and bang my head against one of the other seats. Sitting up, I hear animated discussions taking place in the drivers' cab.
Eventually, I hear one of the front doors open, then slam shut, and footsteps make their way slowly along the side of the van. I go to the back window, and after a moment I see that one of the four guards is out there, checking to see if the van has been
damaged. He keeps glancing off into the woods by the side of the road, as if he's not sure what we hit. We seem to be out in the middle of nowhere, still quite close to the hospital's remote grounds.
“Is everything okay?” I shout.
He just looks at me and carries on walking around the van. I follow the sound of his footsteps as he walks along the other side, but there's a sudden loud bang and the whole van shakes, then there's another bang, then a cracking sound, and then I hear what sounds like someone climbing onto the roof. I stare up at the ceiling, listening to footsteps walking about up there. Did the guard go up to take a look? Suddenly there's a sliding sound, and as I look at the back window I see something fly off the roof and land on the road. I walk over and look out.
Crumpled on the ground, about ten meters from the van, is the body of the guard. Someone just threw him off the roof. There's a patch of blood under him, and he's clearly dead.
I look back at the other end of the van as I hear the front door open again. Another guard has come out to see what's happening. Almost instantly, there's another loud bang, as if something has been slammed against the side of the van, and then there's silence.
I hear the other guards trying to start the engine, but it won't engage. They sound pretty frantic. Finally, I hear the front doors open and then I hear the sound of them running around to the back of the van. I go to the window. One of them is running as fast as he can down the road, jumping straight over the dead body of his colleague, while the other is trying to open the back door to get me out.
As I watch, the one who's trying to get me out is suddenly lifted up into the air. I look up at the roof, and I can hear what sounds like a fight up there, culminating in some more banging and then, finally, another cracking sound. After a moment, another dead body falls off the top of the van and lands in the road.
I listen as someone walks slowly across the roof of the van.
“Patrick!” I call out.
No reply
“Patrick!” I'm sure it's him. It has to be him. Who else would – who else could – do something like this? And why's he here? Why did he kill those three guards and let the other one escape? Is he here for me? Is he here to stop them taking me to the electro-shock therapy? Or is he here because he wants to do something to me himself?
