Diseased

by Jeremy Perry

  “He’s a murderer,” I said through gasping breaths.

  “I didn’t kill anyone,” said Tommy. “He’s nuttier than a fruit cake!”

  I tried lunging at him once more, but there was no getting around Dozer and his super human power.

  “You’re lying,” I said.

  “Who’s lying?” asked a voice behind me. “What’s going on here?”

  In walked Ruth Ann Montgomery, the head nurse and manager of our ward.

  “Tommy and Carter were having themselves a little go-around, Ms. Montgomery,” said Dozer.

  “That crazy a-hole tried to kill me,” said Tommy.

  “You killed the ducks. I know it was you,” I said.

  “What ducks?” said Tommy. “Ms. Montgomery, I haven’t killed anyone.”

  “He killed them,” I said. “Killed them dead. I buried them out on the edge of the forest and—”

  “That’s enough, Carter,” said Ruth Ann. She picked up one of the folding chairs and with her shoe scooted a few of the cards into a pile. “Dozer, get Pat in here to clean this mess. Tommy, go to your room and cool off. Carter, come with me.”

  I was taken to the holding room where I would wait until evaluated. Many years had passed since I’d last visited the holding room with its padded, white walls and encompassing terror. I had told myself that I would never go back to that hell again. But here I was, deep within the belly of the beast, a place that no one at Ryker’s wanted to go.

  Sitting in a corner, I was unsure of the passing time. Dozer must have stuck me with a sedative. I was groggy and my anxiety was simmering. As my nerves calmed, I heard the sliding of the door’s lock move from left to right. I remembered that particular sound well.

  Walking in was Ruth Ann, with her ever-present casual, confident swagger. Unlike the others who worked at Ryker’s, donning the white uniforms, she wore a flowery shirt with a black skirt, which didn’t permit the slimming and sleek illusion as the color is generally known to do. Instead, when she walked, her enormous hips rocked side-to-side with each step.

  Dozer followed closely behind with a chair and placed it not far from me. Ruth Ann sat, resting comfortably, on the verge of instructing me as to what she intended to do next. I knew the routine. I’d been here before.

  I watched Dozer walk back over to the door to stand, as if he were watching over the tomb of the Unknown Soldier. He knew his role. Ruth Ann saw to that.

  “So, Carter,” she said. “Tell me more about your outburst with Tommy.”

  I brought my attention from Dozer to Ruth Ann, except, I didn’t make eye contact right away. I stared at her swelled ankles and followed up her calves, which were protruding with varicose veins, past her exploding muffin top, and finally looked into her serious eyes.

  “I couldn’t help it,” I said. “Mr. and Mrs. Duck…they’re gone.”

  “Yes, I heard,” she said. “But that doesn’t give you the right to attack Mr. Jenkins, does it?”

  She was using one of her trick questions, and I knew exactly what she wanted me to say. I held my position on the matter. I had to…for Mr. and Mrs. Duck and their unborn babies.

  “He’s a murderer,” I said. “He deserved it.”

  Ruth Ann crossed her fat legs and said, “Maybe it was an accident. Maybe Mr. Jenkins didn’t mean to harm the ducks.”

  “He assassinated them based on revenge,” I said. “Tommy was angered because I had laughed him out of my room this morning. That’s all this amounts to—plain and simple.”

  “I see,” said Ruth Ann. She uncrossed her legs and stood from her chair. I noticed her give a nod to Dozer who then walked to where I sat and without effort lifted me to my feet. “Come with me, Carter,” said Ruth Ann. “I want to show you something.”

  I wasn’t sure of where I was going, but I was glad I was getting out of the holding room. A person could really go crazy in there.

  Walking through the living room, I followed Ruth Ann, and Dozer followed me. When she opened and walked out the front door, I had a good idea of where she was taking me, and I didn’t want to go. I tried turning around, but Dozer stopped me, blocking my path.

  “I’d rather not go out there,” I said in a panic.

  “This will only take a few minutes,” Ruth Ann said.

  I followed her to the duck pond, to the place where the massacre had occurred earlier that morning. My stomach churned, and I felt like vomiting. But I was trapped, no way of turning back, no way of escaping this horrible scene that I was about to relive.

  Ruth Ann stopped at the edge of the duck pond.

  “Have a seat, Carter,” she said, pointing to the weather-beaten bench on which I normally sat.

  I eased gently on the bench and turned my head from the water in front of me. I couldn’t look, knowing that Mr. and Mrs. Duck would never be there again. I squeezed my eyelids tightly.

  “Do you see that?” asked Ruth Ann.

  “No. I don’t want to,” I said, keeping my eyes shut.

  “Open your eyes, Carter,” she said, sternly.

  “No,” I said again.

  “Do it now or you’ll go back to the holding room.”

  I didn’t want to go back to the holding room. I didn’t ever want to go back to that awful place. So, I did as Ruth Ann demanded. I slowly opened my eyes.

  “What do you see?” she asked.

  I hesitated. Out in front of me the water rippled tiny waves in the direction of the bank where Mrs. Duck had kept her nest of unborn ducklings.

  She asked me again, “What do you see, Carter?”

  And again, I couldn’t answer. The wrenching of my intestines worsened and I did indeed vomit, in front of me, beside Ruth Ann. Unfazed, she backed away only a step or two.

  I wiped my mouth on the sleeve of my robe and said, “I see the duck pond.”

  “Look again,” she said, grabbing a handful of my hair, tilting my head. “What is it that you see, Carter?”

  “The duck – duck pond,” I said, looking and shutting my eyes again.

  She said, “There is no pond, Carter. There never has been. You need to stop this, this pretending. It’s not good for you.”

  I wasn’t pretending. I knew what I saw. I’d come out here to this same bench every morning for the last week with my bagel to feed the ducks, and to enjoy the pristine water and the wonderful morning air.

  “I’m not pretending,” I said. “Stop saying that. Why are you saying that?”

  Ruth Ann bent over a little and spoke directly in my ear.

  “Carter?” she said and waited for my response.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “How long have you been a resident at Ryker’s?”

  I wasn’t exactly sure, but I gave the most logical answer.

  “A long time.”

  “Have we always had a duck pond?” she asked, again directly into my ear.

  I stalled with my answer. I was unsure. The question prompted me to probe deeper into the archives of my mind, but I still couldn’t give an honest answer.

  I pinched my eyelids tighter and said, “I – I don’t know. I’m not exactly sure.”

  She said, “I’m going to ask you to open your eyes one more time and then you’re going to tell me what you see, okay?” This time I nodded. “Good. Now open your eyes and tell me and Dozer what you see.”

  I didn’t want to, but I also didn’t want to return to the holding room. The lids of my eyes slowly parted and I stared out, straight in front of me. In my peripheral view I noticed Ruth Ann motion to Dozer with a pointed finger in the direction of the duck pond. From behind me, the large man walked around the bench.

  He walked out into the water, ten feet or so from the bank, and spun to face Ruth Ann and me. Now, I thought he was the crazy person, not me.

  “Jump up and down,” Ruth Ann instructed.

  Dozer did as he was told, splashing and rippling the water around him.

  “See,” said Ruth Ann, “no water.”

  By n
ow, I was really starting to question her sanity as well.

  “But I do see water,” I said.

  “Look closer, Carter. Concentrate.”

  Again, Dozer jumped. This time, I saw something, something I hadn’t noticed before. The rippling water around Dozer slowly faded. I watched the farthest, tiniest wave and followed it backwards, where instead of getting larger, it slowly erased. And, I no longer heard the splashing sounds.

  Agitated, I blinked. I rubbed my eyes until the blurriness went away. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. No longer jumping, instead, keeping perfectly still, Dozer appeared to be standing in a vacant lot or on some sort of cement slab. He was clearly not in the duck pond as he had been only seconds ago. I rubbed my eyes again.

  “Do you see it now?” asked Ruth Ann. “Do you see what I’m talking about?” I did see it. But I didn’t want to. I nodded. “See, there’s no pond or ducks,” she said.

  I watched Dozer return from the concrete slab.

  It was all false, all of it, this entire time. There was no pond. There were no ducks. But what did I bury earlier this morning? Now, I wasn’t sure. More make-believe moments from a time which I had thought had been real. But Ruth Ann Montgomery convinced me otherwise. Was it a pile of leaves? Trash? I became frightened by this detachment from reality. I’d rather I hadn’t been told.

  “Come on,” said Ruth Ann. “It’s over. Let’s go back inside.”

  I walked away from what once was a pond that had not only reflected the beautiful sky on its placid water, but had also released a culminating brilliance of love and life upon my battered being and relieved a little unspoken heartache and misery each day that I had to spend at Ryker’s Ridge Institution.

  The three of us went back inside the building, which I had always tried to escape, and I attempted to enjoy the rest of my birthday. Going straight to my room, however, I laid down to rest. I wanted to forget about this exhausting day.

  When I awoke the next morning, I felt invigorated. I had slept wonderfully and had all but forgotten the happenings of the previous day. Today, I felt alive and very well.

  I dressed myself and walked out to the living room where Clarence and Daryl watched television, intently, unblinking, and never moving. I smelled the air and again I knew Pat had already made her rounds of cleaning the ward. I walked over to the service counter to pour myself a glass of orange juice and grabbed a bagel from the tray.

  Walking outside, I noticed a bright sun hovering above the eastern horizon, and the morning dew glinted off the green grass. The day was beautiful already.

  I made my way to the weathered bench and sat my orange juice beside me. Looking out, the pond was more magical than ever. I saw the beauty in it as I always had. I didn’t care what Ruth Ann Montgomery had to say. I loved this pond, and I was going to keep it.

  I tore my bagel in half, and from that, I ripped tiny pieces, throwing them out and into the water. Not long after, from around the bushes, over in the farthest corner of the pond, swam Mr. and Mrs. Duck, followed by a trail of little ducklings.

  “Well,” I said to the family of ducks, “I see congratulations are in order.”

  The family of ducks swam to the floating pieces of bagel and helped themselves. When the first half of bagel was consumed, I tore the other into tiny, bite-sized morsels and tossed them out to my feathered friends.

  I enjoyed the ducks’ company and they enjoyed mine. And that’s all that mattered to me.

  ~~~

  About the author

  Jeremy Perry is an American author who writes across many genres. In 2011, he started the BROTHERS OF THE MOUNTAIN series and penned the short story FAITH, LOVE AND MOONSHINE: An Appalachian Tale. In 2013, he released his first short story collection entitled UNDER THE WILLOW TREE and Other Stories. His short novel MOONSHINER'S JUSTICE was released in 2016. Jeremy has noted Raymond Carver, Neil Gaiman, Louis L'Amour, and Elmore Leonard as some of his writing influences.

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  Copyright © 2015 Jeremy Perry

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without prior written consent of the copyright owner. This story herein is a work of fiction. All of the characters, places, and events portrayed in this book either are products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.