by Mark Fuson
Wolf Asylum
By
Mark Fuson
Credits Page
Damnation Books, LLC.
P.O. Box 3931
Santa Rosa, CA 95402-9998
www.damnationbooks.com
Wolf Asylum
by Mark Fuson
Digital ISBN: 978-1-62929-175-8
Print ISBN: 978-1-62929-176-5
Cover art by: Cinsearae Santiago
Edited by: Steve Soderquist
Copyright 2014 Mark Fuson
Printed in the United States of America
Worldwide Electronic & Digital Rights
Worldwide English Language Print Rights
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any form, including digital and electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the prior written consent of the Publisher, except for brief quotes for use in reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Dedication page
For Cathy.
Special thanks to Ray Urner of Dakota Maverick Photography for the author photo! I would also like to thank my sick and twisted colleagues for some of the inspiration that went into Wolf Asylum. Keep up the sickness!
Chapter One
A lone dying fluorescent bulb pulsated behind the safety screen, intermittently illuminating the dark and sultry chamber. A trio of black flies bounced off the light with futility. All that filled the room was the hum of the light and the buzzing of insects.
Seated in her own filth, deep within the shadows, the woman lost herself in the world existing beyond the walls of her reality. The stone surface was her moving picture, where a foreign and emerging world was shown to her. Captivated by the show, she remained silent and controlled.
The room was a paradox—her paradox.
“This next subject is an interesting one; catatonic and non functional on almost every level. Standard therapy has failed and brought zero results. Her case is almost unheard of.”
The man stopped and peered through the window almost forgetting the entourage of students he had brought in tow, who also were eagerly awaiting their chance to view the patient.
A young Asian student looked up from her notes. “Excuse me, Doctor, what exactly makes this case special? Certainly there are other patients who are also in a catatonic state?”
Still looking calmly through the window of the cell door, the doctor chose his words carefully as he stroked his short groomed beard, “A catatonic patient does not move and requires intervention from staff to survive. This patient is not that. She spends every moment of every day staring blindly at that wall. She does not move, she does not sleep as far as we can tell. Her eyes are transfixed to one point on the wall, almost as though she can see beyond the wall.”
A male student with small framed glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose asked, “Doctor Giddon, I don’t understand. You refer to her as catatonic, but yet she isn’t. Can you elaborate?”
The Doctor tried to explain, “She feeds herself in an autonomic response. It has taken years to find a balance that works for her and the staff. She is fed once a day; any more than that awakens her in a violent way. Once a week, six of our biggest orderlies restrain her for bathing…it is a challenge. Anything that takes her from that spot and that wall evokes an endorphin response. She demonstrates strength and skill that should not be possible. Frankly, we are at a complete loss as to what drives her.” Doctor Giddon now stepped aside, breaking his view of the room and allowed his students to move forward.
“What does an MRI and CT scan show, Doctor Giddon?” another asked.
“I wish we could do such tests on her,” the Doctor agreed. “That’s what makes her case unusual. Medications have little to no impact on her. Sedatives are a complete waste of time. Without her cooperation, I’m afraid medical tests of any real meaning are out of the question. This is what works, as barbaric as it may seem. We can only hope that one day whatever has taken her away, will bring her back.”
A keen student asked as he gawked through the small window, “I can barely see her. Doctor, would it be possible to enter the cell, if we stay clear of her wall?”
Doctor Giddon shook his head. “No one will have access to her. Every year at least one staff is severely injured, usually on bathing day. Feeding is done only through this specialized food slot on the floor. This allows us to push her food in on a paper plate. No, access to her is restricted, for your safety and hers.”
“She seems so small, is she really that dangerous?”
Doctor Giddon reminisced, “some years back, just after she slid into this state on a permanent basis, one of our nurses was brutalized. The patient tore through the nurse’s stomach in a matter of seconds like a savage. The nurse fought back, and help was not far away, but it didn’t stop her from doing what she did. She caught us completely off-guard, and that was the last time we were ever that careless.”
“Was the nurse okay?” a student asked.
“She survived, if that’s what you mean…but was severely traumatized. She lost her baby that day. She was only a few months pregnant, not even showing and she hadn’t told anyone. Somehow this creature knew. She tore the tiny fetus from the womb with her teeth and hands and ate it,” the doctor laid out in disgust. “After that day, I knew what we held in this place was nothing short of pure evil, if you believe in evil. I didn’t, but I do now. This place will change you in ways you can’t imagine, and I cannot prepare you for it.”
A liberal thinking student at the back of the pack asked, “Doctor, you refer to the patient only as a patient, she or her, what is the woman’s name?”
“I have de-humanized her. I’ll even go as far as referring to her as ‘it’ on occasion. Somehow it does not seem right to refer to this thing as a person. What exists behind this door may never have been human. If you must know, she entered this world as Marta—Marta Foster.”
The Asian student again interjected, “how did she come to this place?”
Doctor Giddon looked at the student with his tarnished eyes, not knowing how to answer. He knew the cause of her arrival, but as the doctor who originally worked with Marta before the incident he felt a level of guilt. To share or not share his troubling secret…this is what weighted on him.
“I knew the family,” Giddon finally said. “I met Marta when she was very young. The girl was troubled and delusional. Many of the things that made Marta a concern were simple childhood oddities. I had assured the family that I could help her. Instead, she slid further into her state of mind. I…I tried everything, but I don’t think I realized how troubled she was. She stabbed her infant brother. Marta was calculated in her assault and she was completely absent of emotion. If her mother had not been there, I’m certain Marta would have killed him.”
“You’ve been her doctor for that long?” A young man asked with his glasses now about to slide off the end of his nose.
“Fifteen years is not that long,” Giddon shrugged. “Some people research one subject their entire career. I feel I owe it to that family and to that child who lost her way so long ago. I do believe there is a solution to every problem. Sometimes a solution takes a lifetime to present itself. Though I admit I am at a loss on this one. Who knows, maybe one of you will be the brilliant mind to crack this medical enigma.” Doctor Giddon turned abruptly and left the cell door, marching down the cold corridor in almost a prancing motion. “Come now, I have another patient you should meet.
“This
next one is Jimmie, harmless, so we can enter the room with him. If anything, he’s good for a laugh. Jimmie suffers from multiple personalities, however he manifests them as fictional characters from movies. If we’re lucky he might be Burt Reynolds today. His Bandit personality is spot on!”
The crowd chuckled and marched in step with Doctor Giddon, leaving one student behind and unnoticed. The curious onlooker peered through the window into the darkness of the young woman’s room but was unable to make sense of the layout. Incapable of releasing himself from the inquisition that had overtaken him, he grabbed his car keys. Attached to the set was a small LED flashlight. He thought to himself that the action would be harmless; he had to see it.
The light engaged and he began sweeping the room for signs of the mysterious Marta. The beam illuminated various areas but it was nowhere to be found. He took special note of her wall but could see nothing of interest on it.
The young student was about to give up when his eye caught a glimpse of something in the darkness. In the corner across from the door, blackness rocked from side to side. Inside the shadow of the room existed something even darker.
The interested scholar turned his beam to shed light on the elusive Marta. The cold torch of light shattered apart in the window pane as a small hand burst through the glass, grabbing the voyeur by the throat and pulled him in through the tight space. Marta scraped and stretched his flesh enough to get his lower lip far enough into the room to allow her to rip it off with her teeth. The student only started to scream audibly when Marta released him and he fell to the floor.
Chapter Two
Winter had killed everything in New Haven. For awhile it seemed as though the icy claw would never release its hold, yet spring had finally begun in the small town. Flowers were beginning to bloom and birds were singing out their love songs. It was mid June, but it felt more like the beginning of April; the days were long but nights were still bitterly cold. The season was different than everyone was accustomed to, but then again, so was New Haven.
“I don’t know if I told you, but Terri is engaged to her postman friend. Harry Bonner is his name; I just found that out the other day. I screwed it up too. I introduced him as Harry Boner at their engagement dinner. I had to keep myself from laughing, what a horrible name! Then I realized it was Bonner, like Bonn, Germany. Thank God they’re too old to have kids, that’s a last name no kid should be punished with.” Darwin laughed to himself, but the air around him remained silent.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you last time, Cindy and I are off again. I tried to make it work, but I think she could sense my, ‘lack of interest’. My time and attention has been divided between running a town and being a leader. Yeah I know…you don’t even have to say it.” Darwin again laughed nervously with the plain grave marker looking back at him.
The wind picked up for a moment, brushing the tree tops lightly. Darwin closed his eyes and listened to the sound and found himself at peace.
“I’ve been okay, I guess. I succeeded. The plan really came together. We have community spirit and we all look out for each other. We all treat each other as equals. It really is perfection.” Darwin paused, keeping his mind away from what really haunted him.
“Special Handling is up and running again. It took nearly a month to tunnel through the collapse at the mine. We took a big hit there. Now that all the detainees know the truth…well, let’s just say for a time they were far less compliant. Now most are begging for it to end.
“Food is becoming a problem, but I knew it would. So we’ve begun the next phase of our existence. Amputating only what we need from the human specimens makes them last longer. We’re also introducing new food sources to the community. I think it should be good. We’re opening an orphanage in conjunction with a safe house for drug addicted mothers, a care facility for pregnant teens, social housing for homeless and addicted. I’m still working on the private prison deal, but of course it has to be complicated. We’re also building a private mental institution…I think you get the idea. We bring them here and they disappear or we use them in our breeding program. We removed some of the teenagers from Sector A and placed them into a new containment facility in Sector B of Special Handling. We’ve spiked the water with erectile dysfunction and fertility drugs. So far, every female in this program is pregnant with multiple children.” Darwin stopped to listen to the silence.
“Oh, don’t give me that crap! Yeah, yeah, killing children is bad,” Darwin barked as he tried to hold back the truth. Finally he sputtered out the words to his confidant. “I can’t control it Steve, no one can! The pull it has over us! There’s something about gnawing on their supple flesh; there is nothing else that compares to it. Don’t think for one second I don’t feel any guilt, because I do. I don’t expect you to understand. If it had been up to me, you would’ve been gnawing on one right beside me!”
Darwin turned away from the headstone of his friend, embarrassed to admit the monster he had become. In his heart he knew he was committing horrible atrocities…but it was true. He couldn’t control it—and part of him didn’t want to. His humanity had all but left him, only his private chats with Steve remind him of who he once was.
“I keep saying to myself that some sacrifices had to be made. Our utopia can only exist with food; we’d go insane without it. Not everyone can be blessed. Only some of us can evolve. It’s just how it is. It’s a lot like high school, not everyone can be popular, and some must be persecuted. We know that all too well. It’s wrong, but it’s the way the world is.”
* * * *
The tiled corridor that lead to the most dangerous room at Ridgemount High echoed. “Howdy boys!”
“Shit,” Steve said quietly to Darwin as they both attempted to hug the shower room wall.
The two nude boys had done everything to avoid a confrontation with Bruce Eckart and Teddy Holmes. Showers were mandatory after Physical Education but it was also the one time where bullying was unstoppable. Steve and Darwin had hung back, choosing to be late for their next class in an effort to avoid running into their tormentors. For a few weeks their plan had worked. Now, the small-framed youths began to shiver even standing under the scalding water, knowing what was likely to come next.
It was the few seconds of not knowing that was the worst. Would it be a verbal taunt or all out physical assault? Would a teacher intervene or turn a blind eye as they usually did?
“Fucking little faggots, thought you could hide from me!” Bruce said. “Now it’s time to pay up!”
“Did you find them?” a voice hollered from the changing area.
Bruce smirked. “Yeah, Ted! The little fairies thought they could have private time together. What do you think we should do to them as payment for their sins?”
“Maybe I should cum all over that Cardwen bitch like he did to me! Then that Foster cunt can lick it up!” Teddy said as he entered the shower room and stood next to Bruce.
“Could be fun,” Bruce admitted. “I have another idea, though.”
Bruce pulled out his phone and pointed it at his victims. Darwin and Steve knew they were now being recorded. The only way in and out of the shower room had two much larger boys blocking their escape.
“Let’s make a little movie! Foster, get on your knees and service him!” Bruce demanded.
“No,” Darwin uttered in almost a whisper.
Teddy dashed towards Darwin and thrust his fist into his gut like a whip. Darwin dropped to the floor coughing and gasping for air, but when his vision cleared he could see what he was expected to do.
“Do it faggot! Suck that thing!” Bruce said, reiterating his demands.
Darwin looked up at Bruce and shook his head softly from side to side. The water from the shower obscured his tears, but they were there. Long streams of snot oozed from his nostrils then broke away, sliding down the drain.
What could he do? He wanted to fight back, but they were both so small compared to the muscle-bound athletes. Either way, the video now existed
and Darwin knew capitulating to the demands would only make life worse.
“Maybe your friend isn’t big enough for you. Maybe you should suck on a real man,” Bruce snickered, reaching down and beginning to jiggle the zipper on his jeans.
“Ahhhh!” Darwin screamed, catching Bruce and Teddy off-guard, he leapt directly for the phone. Darwin quickly found the recording device in his palms as he slipped back down to the wet floor. Instinctively Darwin began bashing the phone as hard as he could, aiming for the corners. It only took a few blows and the device began to split open.
“You fucking little bastard!” Bruce shouted as his long arms wrapped around a wet and slippery Darwin. “Give it to me!”
Darwin found himself flying across the room, his head colliding with the far wall, cracking a shower tile. A trickle of blood leaked from his forehead and he was a bit dazed, but the phone was still in his hand. With the cell cracked open he tore it into two pieces, snapped the mother board and dislodged the SIM card with speed and precision.
He honestly had no idea what part of the phone the video would be on so he frantically destroyed as much as he could.
A strong hand wrenched Darwin at the shoulder and spun him around. The last thing he remembered was a head lunging towards his own.
* * * *
“God, we went through a lot,” Darwin said, lost in his memory of the shower. “How did we survive? We went through so much, I’ve forgotten about the smaller things. I think that was the only time I fought back; we paid for it though. How long were we off school? They beat us unconscious and left us for the next class to find. They arranged our bodies—”
Darwin choked and cried. The memory, once forgotten, was now back and festering in his mind.