by J. R. Tate
“Yeah, just stay away from him.” My blood boils at the mention of our nosey neighbor. “Listen, I hate to cut this short but I only have an hour with Dr. Clint and we’ve gotta get this all organized. I’ll call you soon. Love you, Rusty.”
“Love you too.”
I end the call and hand the phone back to Dr. Clint. He pats me on the shoulder again and lifts my shirt, working the button where the camera will be clasped. It snaps in place and I adjust my clothing. I can feel the small box dig into my sternum, but it’s a small discomfort that I can live with.
“Face me,” he says. We both look at the screen and there is a clear shot of him. “Good, the angle is perfect. Most of the guys in there are about your height and bigger, so we’ll get a good view of their faces and of course, this captures audio too, so if there’s any doubt, they can investigate voices too.”
“Yeah.” I’m not sure what else to say.
“What’s wrong?”
“You know, Dr. Clint, I’ve seen a lot of shit in my life. I’ve run into some pretty intense fires. I responded to the wreck that killed my own wife, for Christ’s sake, but this…” I point at my chest. “This scares the shit out of me. There’s always a chance on the job where I won’t make it home, but this is the first time I’ve ever truly felt like I could die.”
“I’m not leaving the hospital. I’ll be right here, watching everything. As soon as it looks like things are headed south, I’ll be right there to make sure you’ll get pulled out in time.”
I shake my head. “What if they find the camera?”
“It’s hidden pretty well.”
“These guys are ruthless. Just think about the scenario for a second.”
“If they do, I’ll know about it and I’ll be there faster than you can imagine.” Dr. Clint puts his hands on both of my shoulders and looks me in the eye. “If you don’t want to do this, Nathan, just say the word. I don’t want to force you into anything. But without this, I’m not sure I have the power to get you out of here. Even as your primary doctor, I don’t see them going on my recommendation alone for a discharge.”
“No, I have to do it. If I don’t, worse things can happen for Rusty and me.” I walk toward the door. “Hopefully the next time I see you we will be on our way to the police department with usable footage.”
“That’s a good attitude to have. I hope you’re right, Nathan. I’ll have this with me. I’ll keep an eye on it every second.”
I open the door to the office and go out in the hallway where Larry is waiting. We make the trek back to the south wing. In my head, I try to devise a way to get the staff riled up. It won’t be too hard, seeing as they already have something personal against me.
When we get back, I’m surprised to see that they’ve let some of the patients out to roam free around the area. It’s still very controlled. We make one move out of the ordinary and I’m sure they’ll hop on us fast. The two guys from last night aren’t here – probably won’t report until this evening and I debate on waiting until then to frame their asses, but my patience won’t allow it.
“You’re free to walk around for a bit. We’ll bring you some breakfast too. Don’t try anything crazy or you know what happens.” Larry gives me a light shove and even though that’s a chance to cause a scene, I don’t. I need a game plan.
A woman strolls by me, a dead, vacant stare on her face. She’s stroking the long hair on a doll and singing to it. She bumps into me but doesn’t even seem to realize I’m there. I can imagine a million different scenarios playing out. I could hit someone, but I can’t do anything that the hospital can use against me. If I use force, they’ll twist it all to hell with their high-powered law team.
I sit at a table and stare at one of the workers. I don’t know who he is, but I hope that he’s confrontational. There’s really not much planning I can do with this. I’ll just have to play it all by ear.
“You eyeballing me?” He walks up to me and I force a smile. “You better wipe that smile off of your face.”
“He told me. You… you better watch out. They’re gonna come for you.”
He looks at me with bewilderment. “Who told you what?”
“Them.” I point to a far corner that is empty. “Right there. They said they’re coming for you.” I stand up, but he pushes me back down into the chair. “Oh, you better not do that to me. It’ll make them mad.” I feel like I have to put on an Oscar performance. It feels weird, but in a place like this, I’m actually being somewhat tame in comparison to others.
“You better not stand up again, Nathan.”
“Or what? What will you do to me?”
“Okay, that’s enough.” He grabs my arm and for a second, I hope that he does something I can use. It’s strange hoping that you’re about to get pummeled, but he doesn’t lay a hand on me, other than guiding me back to my cell. “Get your ass in there. Your free time for the day is over.”
I lunge at him, but he slides the door shut before I can do anything else. Gripping the bars, I keep my eyes on him as he walks away.
“Shit!” I yell. That backfired. I had to pick the only damn worker in the place who doesn’t physically get involved with the patients. I pace back and forth. I need the two assholes from last night to show up. I hope to God they’re on duty tonight.
Sitting on the bed, I speak to the camera, though I know Dr. Clint can’t see me. “That didn’t work. I’m gonna try to do something tonight. You said yourself, they’re more likely to do something after hours.” I pause, expecting him to answer, but of course, he can’t.
Maybe I can get some rest. It’s fairly quiet, even though everyone has freedom to roam around. Lying back, I curl up into the fetal position. It’s the only way to alleviate some pain. If I can sleep, time will go faster and maybe tonight, I can fully carry this out.
Chapter Fifteen
Nathan
I wake up confused. It takes me a second to realize where I am. Looking around, I finally remember I’m in Sunset Canyon in a cramped cell with a damn spy camera in my shirt. Sitting up, I walk to the bars that keep me caged in like an animal on display. I’m so disoriented, and I yell out to a worker.
“Hey, what time is it?”
“What the hell does it matter to you, Nathan? You spend the whole damn day sleeping anyway.”
“I’m just curious.”
He says something back, but I don’t hear him. My focus is on the two guys I hoped would be working tonight. They come around the corner, their attention right on me.
“Oh look, Sleeping Beauty awakes. Have a good nap, fireman?”
Now’s my chance. I grip the bars as tight as I can to compose my nerves. Now or never. Time to dive in.
“Can you two ever do anything on your own? With the way you stay together, makes me wonder if your relationship goes farther than coworkers.” I purse my lips and make a kissing sound. I’m sure the legal team for Sunset Canyon will say I antagonized them, but hopefully it still won’t be enough to justify the beating I’m sure I’m about to endure.
“What did you just say, you maggot?” One of the guys hits his hands on the bars and I make sure I’m facing him dead on to get a good look at his face. I hope Dr. Clint really is watching. With all of the down time, I can see him getting bored and losing focus.
“You heard me. What are you gonna do, Jim?” I take note of his badge he wears around his neck.
He pulls his keys from his pocket and rips the door open with force so hard, the metal slams, echoing across the wing. “You son of a bitch. What makes you think you can talk to me that way?”
I take a few steps back, and though I know what to expect, his actions still catch me off guard. I have to get him to incriminate himself. I fear that just beating me up won’t be enough to vindicate the deaths. Maybe I can get him to admit something in his rage.
“Why don’t you just kill me?” I spat back. “Of course, the hospital wouldn’t allow it.”
He grips my collar. Surely this i
s enough for Dr. Clint to make his move. “You’re hilarious, Gallagher. I’ve got a lot more freedom here than you think. All of you crazies inside make it too easy for us. Mark it down as a suicide and continue on with our business.”
He backhands me, sending me to the floor. The sting is enough for my vision to go black for a second, and when I come to again, he’s above me. The other worker stays back at the door, keeping a lookout. I hate that I don’t know his name, but at least the camera has caught what he looks like.
“How many people have you killed in here?” I ask. The question lands another blow to my face, and this time, the blood is heavy in my mouth.
“Nathan Gallagher is getting a bit too curious. You’re about to become a statistic. Another suicide at the hands of depression and insanity. Hey Bobby, what’s the story they’ve had us rehearse over and over again when something like this happens?”
“He must’ve done it between bed checks,” Bobby says as if he’s telling his superior. “He was pretty self destructive. He’s got a history of mutilating himself. The head wounds prove it. Looks like he slammed his head against the wall one too many times.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. My stomach is in knots and I dry heave. I haven’t eaten in a day, so the acid burns its way up. Both Bobby and Jim laugh as I wretch on my own bodily fluids, but inside, I’m trying hard to control the anxiety. I have them on tape, admitting to a false story. This seems too easy. And where in the hell is Dr. Clint? He’s taking too long! I could be dead in seconds.
“Poor Nathan Gallagher. If you’d have just kept your mouth shut, I wouldn’t have to kill you right now.”
He hits me in the face again, and my head falls back, cracking against the hard floor. I see stars, and if this continues, I’m going to pass out. I feel the blood gush from my nose and again, I wonder where Dr. Clint is. Did he betray me? Was this all part of his plan to get rid of me? Maybe he blames me for having to leave Sunset Canyon and this is his way of taking care of it.
Lifting my head, I blink to clear my blurred vision, but it doesn’t work. “How many? How many people have you killed?”
“Not just me, Nathan Gallagher. We are trained to do this. Now, stop talking. It’ll be a lot less painful if you just take this like a man. You’ll be free of your insanity soon.”
Another sharp pain runs through me and though I fight it, my vision goes black. The last thing I hear is, “Goodnight, Nathan. Another poor soul lost to suicide.”
***
Rusty
I wake up to frantic knocking on the front door. I fear it is Hershel and I throw on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt before hurrying down the stairs to see who it is. The knocking continues and I look through the peephole, seeing Dr. Sanderson on the porch. At least, I think it is him. I’ve only met the guy once when we went to hunt him down.
“Who is it?” I yell. I’m still hesitant to open the door. Since I barely know the guy, it might not even be him.
“Rusty, it’s Dr. Clint. I need you to let me in!”
His voice shakes and I unlock the knob, swinging the door open. He’s out of breath and distraught, and I immediately fear something has happened to my dad.
“What’s wrong? What happened?” Stepping aside, I allow him access to the living room. With as nosey as Hershel is, there’s no doubt in my mind that he’s out there listening.
“It’s your dad, Rusty. They had to rush him back to the medical hospital. A couple of aides at Sunset Canyon beat him up pretty good.”
The mention of this makes me lose my footing and I sit on the couch, covering my face with my hands. I knew something like this would happen.
“How bad is he?”
“I’m not sure yet. I intervened and got the worker off of him. The medics came shortly after and that’s when I came here to get you. This was…” he stops himself, biting his bottom lip as he looks away. “This was in our plan, but I was hoping it wouldn’t have gotten this bad.”
I stand up and throw my hand in the air. “My dad getting his ass kicked was part of your plan? Why? What were you thinking?”
“We had to get solid evidence about the physical torture. And we did, so at least that.”
I fight the urge to punch the wall. My father has sacrificed too much, and now he’s lying in some hospital, his condition unknown. “This has got to stop,” I say, whispering, but Dr. Clint hears me. Getting up, he approaches me, resting his hand on my shoulder. I jerk away, glaring at him. “Don’t touch me.”
“I know you’re upset and you have every right to be, Rusty.”
“This has got to stop,” I repeat. “What more does he have to go through? He should’ve never gone back into Sunset Canyon and you know it.”
“We got what we needed, Rusty. Mr. Dawson’s business will be settled and I’ve got plenty of footage to expose the hell out of that place.”
“And all for what?” I ask, taking a few steps away from him. “My dad’s life? And even if he is alive, what’s next? What will he have to go through this next time for another damn ghost, huh? We’ll never have a normal life. This will never stop.”
“I wish I had an answer for you, Rusty. He’s a good man. And he’s alive.”
“Take me to him,” I say. I don’t even bother to ask.
The ride into town seems to take forever. I clench the seat belt with anticipation, dreading to see him, but also needing to. I fear bad news – with our luck and the way things have been going the past few months, I am preparing for the worst.
“You say you got good evidence?” I break the silence, finally calming down some.
Dr. Clint shakes his head as he merges onto the freeway. “We did. I haven’t had time to give it to the authorities yet, but it’ll be enough. It’s indisputable.”
I look out of the side window, watching as we speed past other cars. To many, it’s just a normal day. People are headed to work, lost in their own world, not even aware of the situation my dad is in. It’s crazy how innocent the world is, shadowed by denial, tucking people away in mental hospitals because they don’t want to deal with them.
“You think we’ll ever be normal again?” I ask. He’s a therapist. Maybe he can help me too.
Dr. Clint glances at me from the corner of his eye. “Kid, I don’t know anyone who is normal. Besides, it’s boring anyway.”
“You think the ghosts will ever go away?”
He shrugs and takes the exit toward the hospital. “I really don’t know, Rusty. But I feel like your dad knows how to handle it now. I think this situation with Mr. Dawson is a major breakthrough.”
“If he’s okay, anyway,” I say, ducking my head.
“He will be, Rusty. Too much has happened for him to give up now.”
We park on the third floor of the parking garage and enter through the ER. Dr. Clint talks with the girl at the desk and I stand back. I take everything in, but I feel like I’m in a dream-like state. People rush past me, busy like worker bees, and I feel like I’m moving in slow motion.
“Rusty, they said we can go in and see him before they move him to a room.”
I follow him through a pair of swinging doors, the scent of cleanser and medicine thick in the air. Nurses and doctors pass by, focused on their work. Dr. Clint opens a curtain and a nurse stops us before we can go in.
“Can I help you?”
“We’re here to see Nathan Gallagher. This is his son, Rusty.”
“We are prepping to move him, so be quick.” Her tone is harsh, matching her gaze.
“How is he?” I ask. I’m not going to let her intimidate me and I have a right to know.
“We just did an MRI so we are waiting on results. He’s got a cracked rib and we are monitoring him for brain damage. Right now he’s unresponsive. We’ll know more when we get the tests back.”
Brain damage? That is scary. “Aren’t they supposed to keep people awake if they have a concussion?” I ask Dr. Clint as we walk in.
“I’m not sure. I guess si
nce he’s already unconscious, they’re unable to get him awake. He’s in a good place. He’s getting good care.”
They have his head wrapped with gauze and his face is swollen. Both eyes are black and blue, and his bottom lip is fat. I notice the IV’s joining together at the back of his hand, also covered in gauze. And the monitors – I have no idea what any of them mean, but it’s terrifying to see the numbers fluctuate.
I grab his hand and squeeze, hoping he’ll do it back, but he doesn’t. His skin is clammy, but the rise and fall of his chest does give me some comfort – at least he is breathing.
“Dad, it’s me, Rusty. Dr. Clint brought me to the hospital to see you. Can you hear me?”
There is no response. All that can be heard is the drip of the medications in the IV, the heart monitor, and his oxygen hooked up through something plastic through his nose. I have no idea what any of this crap is called. I’m no medical person. Seeing my dad so helpless in the bed makes me angrier. Why him?
The same snarky nurse slides the curtain aside. “We are moving him to ICU. You two will have to leave. We’ll send someone out to tell you when he’s situated and you can see him there.”
Dr. Clint motions me away, and we sit in the waiting room. I can’t lose my dad too. He’s the only thing I have left.
“He’s going to be okay, Rusty.”
“I hope you’re right.” Right now, my positive attitude is nowhere to be found.
***
Nathan
“Nathan, you gotta wake up! Open your eyes! Wake up, Nathan!”
I hear the voice in the distance, echoing, but I can’t see a damn thing. Is it Rose? It sounds just like her, and I try hard to do what she asks, but I can’t even move.
“Do it for Rusty! Wake up!”
Again, I turn to try and find her, but my body is motionless. It feels like there is a ton of bricks lying on top of me. I’m frustrated and I hurt. My head feels like it’s about to explode, and every time I breathe in, it feels like someone is stabbing me.
