Tormented

by Lee Mountford

  Reid saw more twisted visions—a thing with multiple legs that was more spider than man, a creature with no skin and pulsating innards that opened into separate mouths—in each and every cell he looked into. Templeton and his congregation waited for him at the end of the passage before a tall, imposing double door made of sturdy metal. It was rusted and aged, but Reid had no doubt that it would hold firm.

  When Reid reached them, Templeton spoke. ‘Are you ready, Dr. Reid?’

  ‘What’s in here?’ Reid replied.

  ‘An old friend.’

  The door was unlocked and then heaved open, each of the two leaves scraping against the dirt floor as they were pulled apart.

  Reid looked inside.

  ‘What is this?’ he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

  ‘This,’ Templeton said, ‘is Robert Wilson. At least, it used to be.’

  The room inside was a large one, of similar construction as the passageway outside—stone walls and ceiling—but the flooring within was cast with uneven concrete.

  In the centre was a bed, and on it was the form of a man.

  His skin was pale and sunken, revealing the outline of bones beneath, and he had long, thin hair with a scraggly beard to match—both the colour of ash. His eyes were shut, and Reid could detect no signs of breathing.

  ‘You brought me down here to see a corpse?’ Reid asked.

  ‘Not quite,’ Templeton said. ‘Robert has been lying here, like this, for a long time. However, you will notice that there is no pooling of the blood in lower portions of the body, no purple patches on the skin, and rigor mortis has not set in. Please, examine him and see for yourself.’

  ‘I’ll take your word for it.’

  Templeton chuckled. ‘Very well. What I’m telling you is that the body you see before you is alive, technically. And blood pumps through its veins.’

  ‘So he’s in a coma?’

  ‘Robert? Truth be told, I don’t know where my old friend is anymore. If he exists anywhere at all, that is. But this body is still a host to life, that much I can promise you.’

  ‘What kind of life?’

  ‘The kind beyond our understanding,’ Templeton answered with a wide smile. ‘There is something using this body as a vessel. Using it to reside, at least in part, in our world. In our reality.’

  ‘That is ridiculous,’ Reid said, raising his voice. ‘For sanity's sake, Isaac, will you please just give me a straight and honest answer?’

  ‘This is your answer,’ Templeton said, gesturing towards the man on the table before them. As Reid focused more on the details of the room, he noticed that fine growths lined the body—thin tendrils of a pinkish-purple colour that were almost as fine as hair. These tendrils fell from the body to the floor, some wrapping around the legs of the bed as they pushed farther out into the room.

  The director went on. ‘This being is something that exists in a place beyond our own.’

  ‘What kind of place?’

  ‘We do not know, exactly. A realm of purity. The beings that dwell there know secrets to the cosmos that we can scarcely comprehend. They are many orders of magnitude above us. And this is one such being.’

  ‘A god?’

  Templeton chuckled. ‘For so long I had an erroneous comprehension of what that word meant. But now I know.’

  ‘I hate to derail your speech, Director, but this doesn’t look like a god to me. It’s a bag of meat, like the rest of us.’

  ‘The body is exactly that, you are correct. But the body is only a puppet, one the Great Ailing One uses to form a connection to this world, allowing it to exert its will here.’

  ‘Great Ailing One?’ Reid asked, now even more confused.

  ‘This is what we have come to call it.’

  ‘Ailing? As in it’s ill? Dying?’

  ‘In a sense. Its time of existence in its own realm is eroding.’

  ‘A dying god? Am I supposed to believe this? Isaac, if something can die, then it is very much mortal, like you and I.’

  ‘No,’ Templeton said. ‘Nothing like you and I. We do not know much, only that something happened in its own existence, and now it is decaying.’

  ‘And you know all of this how? You talk to it?’

  The director nodded. ‘That’s right.’

  ‘This is ridiculous,’ Reid snapped. ‘I cannot believe what I’m hearing. You people and whatever cult you are part of have lost touch with reality.’

  ‘Then explain what you have seen with your own eyes, Dr. Reid. Explain to me how those things out there came to be?’ He pointed back to the area behind them where the abominations were imprisoned.

  ‘I can’t,’ Reid conceded. ‘But it is not attributed to a god. Just think about what you are saying. I won’t fall victim to the same hysteria that has gripped the rest of you weak-minded fools,’ Reid said, raising his voice even higher now, letting the anger that was building run free. ‘Enough is enough.’

  Templeton shook his head. ‘I’m disappointed, Doctor. I expected more from you.’

  ‘Then I’m glad to have let you down,’ Reid said defiantly. He knew that by rebuking what they were saying, he was putting himself in danger, but it was all too much.

  ‘Bring him… to me.’

  Reid spun his head around at hearing those words. No one present had uttered them, yet he had heard the voice clear as day. Then he saw that the body on the table had its eyes wide open, revealing black orbs.

  ‘What was that?’ Reid asked, unable to hide the fear in his voice.

  ‘It seems someone, or something, would like to speak with you,’ Templeton said, with a sinister smile.

  Then Jones and the other orderlies made their way over to the doctor.

  Everything else was a blur to Reid—flashes of them taking hold of him, moving him over to the body of Robert Wilson, and seeing the mouth open to reveal the blackness within. An inhuman tongue slithered out and forced its way into his own mouth.

  He tasted the foul, slimy thing as it spit something inside of him.

  Then he dreamed.

  Oh, how he dreamed.

  22

  ‘Out of isolation already?’ Seymour asked, his lip curled into a cruel smile. ‘Thought they would have kept you in there all week.’

  Adrian took a seat, ignoring Seymour completely. Regardless of what had happened yesterday, and what he had suffered, he still couldn’t say he regretted attacking the obnoxious man.

  He had considered staying in his room all morning, just so that Seymour would not see the bruises and wounds now displayed on his face, but his hunger was just too great.

  ‘Give you a beating, did they?’ Seymour went on, pressing the issue and looking for a rise. Adrian did not give him the satisfaction. Instead, he turned to Jack and greeted the giant with a friendly smile. Jack smiled back and patted Adrian on the shoulder with a large paw.

  ‘How are you today, Jack?’ Adrian asked. He didn’t expect a verbal answer, but Jack instead gave him a thumbs up. Adrian looked to the others in the group, Sean and Trevor. Poor Trevor looked as beaten as Adrian was, with a large lump on his forehead and dark, purple bruises to the left side of his face.

  ‘They let you out, too?’ Adrian asked. Trevor nodded, seemingly his usual self at the moment.

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘This morning.’

  ‘Seems like you had a rough night.’

  Again, Trevor nodded. ‘I guess.’

  ‘Makes two of us.’

  ‘Well,’ Seymour cut in, ‘can’t say you both didn’t deserve it.’

  ‘Not today, Seymour,’ Adrian said. ‘Just drop it.’

  Seymour just laughed. ‘Don’t tell me what to do, boy.’ He was still trying to exert his authority over Adrian, who gritted his teeth together but kept himself in check.

  ‘Anyone hear that last night?’ Sean asked, thankfully changing the subject, though not to one Adrian necessarily wanted to discuss.

  ‘Hear what?’ Trevor asked, seemingly not awar
e of the disturbance.

  ‘Same as the night before,’ Seymour said. ‘More trouble. Think someone else got free.’

  ‘It wasn’t someone getting free,’ Adrian said, then stopped himself.

  ‘What would you know?’ Seymour asked, challenging him. Adrian still didn’t want to divulge anything, fearing he would just upset Jack and Trevor. Seymour and Sean he was less concerned about.

  ‘Whatever it was,’ Sean said, ‘something’s going on. It isn’t safe here anymore.’

  ‘When was it ever safe?’ Seymour asked. ‘In here there is no such thing as safe.’

  ‘Well, there’s nothing we can do about it,’ Adrian said, looking past the group he sat with, impatiently waiting for breakfast to arrive. It would be more slop, but right now that sounded downright appealing.

  ‘Speak for yourself,’ Seymour said. ‘You may be happy enough staying here like a good little puppet for your masters, but I’m not.’

  ‘This again,’ Adrian said, shaking his head.

  ‘Yes, this again,’ Seymour answered. ‘And you might want to listen, boy. If you had any sense about you, you’d be begging me to come along when I get out.’

  ‘Have a plan of action, do you?’

  ‘Not yet,’ Seymour conceded. ‘But that doesn’t mean I won’t make it happen. I’ll get out of this prison, I promise you that.’

  ‘Of course you will,’ Adrian said, then got to his feet.

  ‘Where are you going?’

  Adrian nodded to the food that was now being wheeled into the room in large, silver vats. ‘Breakfast,’ he replied, tired of listening to the fat man. ‘Anyone else coming?’

  Jack smiled and got up with him. Seymour remained seated, and Sean seemed in two minds, clearly wanting food, but looking to Seymour for approval.

  ‘What about you, Trevor?’ Adrian asked. ‘I’m guessing you’re as hungry as I am.’

  Trevor did not answer.

  Someone else did.

  ‘Oh, I’m hungry all right,’ an effeminate voice said.

  Trevor then turned and flashed Adrian a sinister smile.

  Shit.

  It appeared Mother was back.

  23

  ‘Thomas, help us!’

  The flames in the room were absolute and the heat unbearable.

  Thomas Reid stood in the doorway to the bedroom while the fire spread through the house—but this room was worst of all.

  It was an inferno.

  And inside were his wife and his young son.

  The blonde boy hugged his mother tightly, tears streaking his blackened face. The smoke was suffocating, and Reid struggled not to vomit as he coughed and heaved.

  The flames crept closer to his family.

  ‘Please,’ his wife begged.

  He knew he should be helping them. As the husband, wasn’t it his job to burst in there, face down any danger, and carry them to safety?

  But the fire and heat grew stronger.

  And Thomas Reid stepped away.

  He fled from the house, listening to the screams of terror from his wife and child.

  He made it safely from the house as they were burnt alive.

  In an instant, time seemed to have passed, hours gone by, and he was standing close to the scorched, blackened shell that used to be his home. The authorities, having successfully put out the fire, were wading through the fragile structure. Grief and shame overcame Reid. He broke away from the officer he was speaking with and bolted into the house and up to the bedroom.

  There, he saw what was left of his family. Woman and child, black and charred, fused together from the ungodly heat.

  He fell to his knees and screamed.

  And when he looked up, Thomas Reid was not in his house anymore. He was somewhere else.

  A terrible hellscape that defied belief.

  And a voice came to him, from a raging, bubbling sea.

  ‘Good morning.’

  Reid opened his eyes. His heart was racing, his breathing quick, and he could feel perspiration line his body. He saw a familiar, smiling face looking down at him.

  Templeton.

  Reid scanned the room he was in, one that was alien to him at first, but his mind soon started to catch up and calm his panicking body.

  He was in his sleeping quarters. A small room, like the others in this wing, containing just enough space for a single bed, a writing desk, and two wardrobes. There was a window above his head that let in daylight, and the entire room was decorated in light colours—from the white plaster on the walls, to the cream carpet, and even the white bedsheets.

  Reid let himself take a deep, soothing breath.

  The springs beneath the mattress squeaked as Director Templeton shifted his weight from the seated position he had taken on the foot of the bed.

  ‘How are we feeling?’ he asked in a kind, gentle manner.

  ‘Fine,’ Reid said, still confused. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. ‘What are you doing here?’ he asked, then he remembered what had happened the previous night.

  Tom Cunningham’s mutation. The ward-from-hell beneath the asylum. The creatures that lurked down there in the shadows.

  And the room beyond that housed Robert Wilson.

  Reid gagged as he remembered that sickening tongue worming its way into his mouth and throat.

  ‘You,’ Reid snapped and jabbed a finger at Templeton. ‘You let that thing at me. Forced me to it. What the hell did it do to me?’

  Reid pushed himself up to a sitting position, fists clenched. Templeton just chuckled. ‘Please stay calm, Dr. Reid,’ he said. ‘There is no need for anger or overreaction.’

  ‘Overreaction? I ingested the same filth that mutated the patient last night.’

  ‘And you will be fine for it,’ Templeton said. ‘I promise you that.’

  ‘You call turning into one of those abominations fine?’

  ‘You will not turn, as you didn’t take enough.’

  ‘Then why do it? Is this just the start? Do you plan on keeping me prisoner here and turning me gradually, like you did with those patients? Is that what you did to my predecessor?’

  ‘What happens to you will be your decision, Dr. Reid. Now, indulge me. Did you dream?’

  ‘What difference does that make?’

  ‘Please, just answer me.’

  ‘Yes,’ Reid snapped. ‘I dreamt. What of it?’

  ‘Of something from your past, am I correct? A painful memory or regret. And then you saw a place, didn’t you? Somewhere not of this world?’

  Templeton was indeed correct, of course, but even so, Reid had heard this before—from the patient Adrian James. He guessed Templeton had heard it countless times from other patients on this so-called treatment as well. ‘That’s right. I sense that is a common occurrence after taking that… fluid.’

  ‘Indeed. Amazing, is it not?’

  ‘Not really,’ Reid answered. ‘A hallucinogenic property?’

  ‘Oh no, that was no hallucination.’

  ‘You should try for yourself and see.’

  ‘I have,’ Templeton said, still smiling.

  Reid paused. ‘You have?’

  ‘Of course. And the experience was exhilarating. I know I called it a dream, but since you have experienced it you can appreciate that it is so much more.’

  ‘And what would you call it?’ Reid asked.

  ‘A vision,’ Templeton replied. ‘The place that you saw really exists. Our world, our reality, is not the only one—far from it. What is inside of you now, swimming through your veins, is the blood of a Great Being.’

  ‘A god?’

  ‘Yes, but not as we understand the term. You see, with its blood in our veins, even a small amount, we are imparted with some of its wisdom. However, it seems the more we administer, the less we can take it. And, well, you have seen what happens when it goes too far. But I am certain that we can somehow overcome this temporary barrier and learn more secrets from the Ancient Ones. You see, I have discovered that wh
en we die, we do not simply rot in the ground. The soul is a very real thing, though maybe not as we had envisioned it. And if that is true, it is perfectly possible that the dead actually exist out there in the ether somewhere.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ Reid said, letting his anger show. From gods to spirits and now to the afterlife—what rubbish would the director throw at him next?

  Templeton laughed. ‘Even after all you have seen, you still don’t believe?’

  ‘I believe there is something strange going on here, and this substance is somehow responsible for patients mutating in ways I never thought possible, but I do not believe that some great being in the sky is responsible.’

  Templeton stood to his feet and shook his head. ‘Well, I hope you come around soon, Dr. Reid. For your sake.’

  ‘Is that a threat?’

  ‘A warning. At least consider that what I’m saying could be true. Also, consider the possibilities of what could come from that, and what kind of rewards would be presented to you, being at the forefront of this discovery.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, I know about your family. And as I say, I firmly believe that there is a chance you could one day meet with them again. Is the possibility of that truth not worth having an open mind?’

  Reid looked away and shook his head. Fairytales and magic stories—he was growing tired of it all. Moreover, if that were true, he did not think he could ever face his wife or son again. ‘I’ll not hear it,’ Reid said.

  ‘Then hear this,’ Templeton went on. ‘What we discover here will one day soon be made known to the world. Our beliefs will be the one true way, because no one will be able to refute it. And then, imagine where we will be. Those of us that want to could become rulers of this reality. And if you were among our ranks, there would be a seat at the table for you. Imagine that—all the renown and respect you’ve ever wanted would be yours. No one would ever look at you as a failure again. Does that not sound appealing?’

  Reid clenched his teeth, but did not reply, because, as much as it shamed him to admit it, the notion was indeed appealing.

  Fairytales and magic stories or not.