by J. R. Tate
“I know it’s what we’ve gotta do to help this ghost. I saw what it did to you last time. I don’t want you to go through that again.”
“I know, Son. It’s different this time. Everything will be fine.”
I pull him in for a tight hug and I’ve never felt him embrace it. His hug is firm against me and for a moment, I have a hard time letting him go.
“Love you, Russ.”
“Love you too, Dad.”
I get out and walk to the passenger side. “Do me a favor?”
“Sure.”
“Don’t wreck my truck while I’m inside. We really gotta work on getting your license once this all blows over.”
Rusty laughs and scoots the driver’s side. “See you soon.”
“Count on it,” I reply, and turn toward the building before he sees me get choked up. No turning back now. It feels like I’m turning myself into the cops. My legs don’t want to move, but I push myself past the hesitation and enter.
The waiting room is busy with other people, and the front desk girl smiles, and it feels welcoming. She seems perfect for the job.
“Can I help you, sir?”
“I need to talk to a caseworker.” I keep my head low. I can’t believe I’m doing this after all of my efforts to evade them.
“What is this in regard to?”
“My name is Nathan Gallagher. I was supposed to be admitted to Sunset Canyon but I ran off. I think Carla was the lady who…”
Her eyes widen and I can tell she recognizes me. “Yes sir. I have you on my list. Let me give Carla a call. You can have a seat and we’ll be right with you.” She cradles the phone on her shoulder, keeping one eye on me as I find a spot in a far corner away from everyone. I can’t hear what she’s saying, but her genuine smile is gone and she’s on edge. I guess I’m labeled a high-risk patient now and her changing demeanor confirms it.
I try and stay calm and I surprise myself at how even keel I’m being. This could potentially blow up in my face, yet I feel at peace with the whole plan. I guess it helps having a mental health professional on my side. It’s the added confidence I need to get this done.
Carla comes out of a side door and I can’t tell if she’s happy or if she’s just relieved. “Mr. Gallagher, I can’t even tell you how happy I am to see you. Why don’t you come back to my office?”
Her kindness is killer because I can’t stand her. I don’t even know her and yet here I am, disliking her. I sit across from her and try not to read the inspirational posters plastered all over her walls. It’s too cliché.
“Finally realizing we can help you?”
I swipe my palms down the side of my pants. The calmness I was experiencing in the waiting room is now gone, replaced by fear. What is it about this woman that makes me a quivering idiot? I switch from wanting to stick to the plan or run out again. The thought of Mr. Dawson and the torture that Rusty and I will go through makes me stay on course. It’s a sacrifice that will have long-term benefits if we can pull it off.
“I am here to, you know… go into the hospital.”
“Are you still suicidal, Mr. Gallagher?” She pulls out a clipboard and pen, clicking it, ready to write.
“Yes ma’am,” I lie. “But I have an outside doctor I want to use.”
“Mr. Gallagher, I don’t…”
“If I can’t have Dr. Clint Sanderson, I’m leaving. I’m going to walk right out of here and you’ll have to hunt me down again. Lots of patients have their own doctors.”
“Dr. Clint Sanderson?” she asks, looking up from her paperwork. “Is he still around?”
“He is.”
“I don’t think he’s in network for insurance with the hospital.”
“I don’t give a damn, Carla. He’s who I want. I’m working with you. Can’t you work with me too? Cut me a little slack.”
She scribbles some notes down and glances up again. “Okay, Mr. Gallagher, I’ll have him paged and we’ll get you a bed prepared. It takes a lot of courage, coming in here and admitting you need help. I’m glad you finally decided to do this.”
She’s right – it’s taking tons of courage, but a different kind than what she’s referring to. I hope what we’re doing isn’t a huge mistake that I’ll have to face once I’m inside. Paranoia hits and I fear that Dr. Clint is also against me and this was their plan to get me inside.
Brushing that thought aside, I sit back and wait as she makes the arrangements for my admission into Sunset Canyon, hoping that this is all one huge nightmare that I’ll soon wake up from.
Two men dressed in scrubs enter her office and they hold the same stance as other orderlies and attendants did when I was in the hospital. My heart races fast, my mouth goes dry, and my palms are so sweaty that even wiping them on my pants does no good. I go between being satisfied with the plan, to doubting it, and both of my options are not appealing. Even if I did want to flee, I wouldn’t stand a chance now. These guys are both double my size and with two of them, I’m better off just sticking to what Dr. Clint and I have arranged.
“Mr. Gallagher, can you please stand up? We’d like for this to be an uneventful transfer to the hospital. You agree?” One man speaks up, his voice deep, as expected from his appearance.
“Yes,” I whisper, keeping my head low, unable to make eye contact with any of them. They view me as a suicidal, depressed, mentally ill man, and though their profession trains them not to see us as crazy and strange, I know deep down they have to think it.
Glancing at the corner of the room, I see Sammy, Rose, and Mr. Dawson. They are standing together, their cold, dead eyes trained right on me. Though this time, something is different. They don’t seem tense. They are not at ease either, but I think their hostility has died down some with me finally paying attention to what Mr. Dawson needs.
I expect them to restrain me, but they don’t. One man walks behind me, one in front, with Carla right next to me, her paperwork in hand. This is much calmer than the first time I was institutionalized, but this time I’m not being forced – it’s my own, stupid decision that hopefully will play out in our favor.
There is a police car waiting and I glance at Carla, who places her hand on my arm in an attempt to keep me calm.
“This is standard procedure, Nathan. They have a contract to transfer patients to Sunset Canyon as a precaution for safety to our staff. We don’t make exceptions for anyone.”
I look at the cop car and the cop waiting beside it, hoping that he won’t recognize me. I guess it really doesn’t matter – I’ll never be a firefighter again after all of this is finished. They open the door and I slide into the backseat. Carla waves but I don’t return it. The cop climbs in behind the wheel, turns and looks at me over his shoulder.
“No trouble, okay?”
“None,” I reply and watch Carla and the two orderlies fade away as I’m carted off to Sunset Canyon with an uncertain future ahead of me. Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes. Normal life as I know it is over. I’m not sure how things can ever get back to the way they were.
Chapter Fourteen
Nathan
The ride to the hospital is quick, and when we get inside, everything is just how I remember it. The same hallway I waited in before, the same reception desk – everything. They sit me down in a chair as the cop signs off on some paperwork and the intake worker glances over it and then toward me. She’s familiar – likely the same woman who checked me in the first time. It’s amazing how differently they’re treating me. Last time I was handcuffed and treated like a criminal. This time I’m completely free. I guess it helps to cooperate.
“Mr. Gallagher, we’ve got you checked in. You’ll be in the south wing and I’ll have Larry here escort you. I see here that you want Dr. Sanderson as your primary therapist, is that right?” She points to the writing on the paper.
“Yes, that’s right.”
“You are aware that you’ll have to pay out of pocket for him since he’s no longer in network with this facili
ty?”
“Yes. It’s him or no one.”
“Okay, I just wanted to confirm.” She scribbles something down and motions toward Larry, another burly man dressed in scrubs. It seems like they hire bouncers to do the job, but it makes sense. Patients in here are unruly.
“Okay, Mr. Gallagher, you have an appointment with Dr. Sanderson right now for an intake evaluation. After that I’ll show you to the south wing. Is that where you were last time?”
I shake my head. I’m not really in a talkative mood, but at least I’ll see Dr. Clint right away. I need to follow up with him. I need to see how he’s acting to make sure he’s not going to betray me. My trust level with everyone is non-existent.
“I don’t remember.”
Larry smiles and it’s funny, because I don’t remember him either. He probably saw on my paperwork that I’m a repeat offender and is just trying to make small talk with me.
We walk down a long hallway that smells of bleach, leather, and body odor, all in one. It’s a good thing I don’t have much in my system, because along with my nerves and the scent of the place, I feel like I could barf all over the place.
We finally reach a door that Larry opens, and Dr. Clint is sitting in a chair. He smiles and stands as I walk in. “We’re good, Larry. I’ll call the front desk when the session is over.”
The door closes, leaving me alone with Dr. Clint. The room is typical to what a therapist’s office looks like with shelves full of books, a leather couch, and a huge window to look out of.
“Have a seat, Nathan.” He motions toward the couch.
Sitting, I fold my arms over my chest and take another long glance around the room. “Whose office are they letting you use?”
“This is an extra one for situations like this. Other patients request doctors not on staff. How was the ride over?”
“Quick. I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
“I can’t believe I’m here again either, but remember why we’re doing this.”
I feel reassured when Dr. Clint says that. He seems genuine in wanting to help, not like he tricked me in to coming for the sake of the mental health authority.
“So, any ideas on our first step?” I’m ready to get down to business. We don’t have much time in sessions and the shorter I have to stay, the better.
“What wing do they have you in?”
“South,” I reply.
Nodding, Dr. Clint jots down something in his notebook. “That’s good – the south wing is where some of the most intense patients stay.”
“How is that good?”
“Because those are the ones most abused. I wonder why they assigned you there. Probably because of your past history. The south wing is where the most reports of deaths and incidents take place. You’ll be right in the middle of it all.”
Leaning back, I try not to let that discourage me. “How are we going to prove it? How am I going to vindicate Mr. Dawson?”
“I’m glad you mention him because I did a little digging through old records. Granted, they didn’t keep good ones back then, but I did find a small blurb about his death. If we expose this hospital now, in present time, it will vindicate not only Mr. Dawson, but all of the others who died here too. That’ll be enough to allow him to finally rest in peace. As long as people know now what happened then.”
Clasping my hands, I scoff. “I’m still not sure how we’ll get them to believe us. How will we get solid enough proof to take an establishment of this size down?”
“Not the whole establishment, Nathan – the south wing. That’s where, even back when it was Ruthardt, the deaths took place. You’ll understand when you get there. I hate that you’ll have to spend any time there. It’s not what you’re going to expect.”
“What should I expect, Dr. Clint?”
“Hell.”
A chill shoots through me. I want to abort this whole plan. “We need to work fast, Dr. Clint.” My voice is raspy from my throat going dry.
“I have you set up for daily sessions, and in some cases, hopefully two. They didn’t question it because of your situation. I plan to wire you with a camera. But I can’t yet. They’re going to search you and give you hospital clothes. When you come back tomorrow, we’ll be clear to do it. Tonight will be tough, but stick to your guns. Dig deep for inspiration on why you’re doing this.”
“Wire me?” I repeat. “Will that work?”
“It’ll have to. It’s the only way we can get solid proof of the way they treat patients in that wing. Do you have any other ideas? With your suicidal label and me leaving Sunset Canyon, word alone won’t work, and you know that.”
“What if they try to do something to me tonight?”
“Try to disappear. Don’t draw attention to yourself and do everything they ask. And whatever you do, do not swallow any medicine they give you. Once we get you set up, let the flood gates open.”
I have so many doubts and questions and I glance at the clock. Our hour is almost up. “What if it’s too late? How will I get them to stop before they actually go through with it?”
“I’ll be watching the camera. As a doctor, I have access to my patients at any time of the day or night. I’ll come get you.”
“Even with your status with the hospital?”
Dr. Clint stands up and pats me on the shoulder. “They’re not going to kill you that fast. They like to have fun for a while before it happens. Hold tough, Nathan. You have legitimate concerns and I do too.” He points to the nametag on his hip. “This right here grants me access anywhere in this hospital at any time. Most therapists don’t come around at night, so they won’t expect me.”
“They gave you that without being on staff?” I feel like a child asking a million questions, but I feel like there’s too many holes in our plan.
“It’s my old one. Never was deactivated. Talk about luck being on our side. I’ve tested it. It still works.”
“That’s almost too good to be true,” I say.
“Go with it. You’ve been handed a shit deal with all of this. For once, let luck do its job for you.” Looking at his watch, he sits back down. “Our time is almost up. I’ll call for an early session tomorrow morning and we’ll get it squared away. In the meantime, low key is the name of the game.”
I don’t want to go to the south wing. I imagine patients shackled to the cold, damp floor. I imagine truly insane men running around, hurting people at whim. And the staff – how will they be? Larry walks in the room, ready to take me there. I am about to find out just how the south wing will be. What in the hell have I gotten myself into?
***
Rusty
The night is too quiet at the house. I want the ghosts to come talk to me, but at the same time, I hope that they stay away. The way my mother has been appearing to us is not the way I want to remember her – maybe her soul will be at ease with my dad sacrificing the way he is. I can’t believe he’s gone as far as going back inside. He’s fought so hard to stay out and has feared what will happen to him. I hope whatever plan he and Dr. Clint thought up will work, because I’m terrified that I’ll never see him again.
Looking down at my phone, I scroll through my messages. Nothing from him. No missed call either. He said he’d be able to keep in touch, so hopefully I’ll hear from him tomorrow.
A text message pops up on the screen, and it’s from Britney.
When can I see you again? I’m worried about you.
I’m shocked to hear from her. After everything I put her through, I was certain she’d have been finished with me.
I text back – I’m okay. Sitting at the house alone. Can I come over?
Hearing from her makes me realize how lonely I am. At least she is someone I can now talk to about this. I trust her, though I know I should be cautious. This is something so unusual that it’d be hard for anyone to not go and blab it to someone.
How will you get here? Need me to come get you?
No. Have my dad’s truck. No license still, b
ut screw it. I don’t care.
Sure. I’d love to see you.
I look up at the ceiling and back to the phone, responding with a quick ‘okay’. Grabbing the keys, I second-guess myself. Do I need to stay here in case a ghost comes to communicate? What if the caseworker shows up? Probably best that I won’t be here for that.
Twirling the keys on my index finger, I hurry to the truck, but almost jump out of my skin when I see Hershel standing right up against the driver’s side door, his hat brim pulled down, shielding his face.
“Where you off to, boy?”
“I uhh… I gotta run an errand.” I haven’t seen him in days, and suddenly he’s popped up at of nowhere. I’d rather encounter a ghost – this guy is too creepy to put into words.
“Where’s your dad? I haven’t seen him in a while.”
“Busy. We’ve been really busy.” I try to open the door, but he leans back, hindering me.
“I had a cop stop by the house yesterday. Was asking me all kinds of questions about the neighbors down the road. About your dad.” He prods his index finger into my chest, his dark eyes widening. “They tell me he’s gone insane. That he tried to take his own life.”
My anger flares. I’ve always been on my dad’s side, but lately I feel like I have to protect him. “Look, mister, it is none of your damn business. Get off my property before I call the cops.”
“This house has made him crazy, hasn’t it? You’re not far behind him, are you?”
“Step aside, Hershel. I’m not going to ask again.”
It takes him a second, but he moves enough for me to get the door open. I probably shouldn’t leave the house unattended, but at this point, I don’t want to be alone. I make sure to peel out as I press my foot down on the gas pedal. Rocks spray behind the truck and I don’t even take the time to see if any hits Hershel. My focus is on getting as far away from him as I can, but I also have to remind myself to drive right. With no license and Dad in the hospital, the last thing I need is to get pulled over.
