by Vincent Voss
“Yes, it’s me.” It smells like coffee and reeks of cigarette smoke. Henning is sitting at his computer near an open window. He looks pale and she probably does too. She sits.
“You’re working overtime?” she says, and smiles.
“Hmpf,” he snorts.
“Ready?”
“I don’t know.”
He points to the screen. With a mouse click, he opens a file that fills the entire screen. Black and white. At first, she can’t make out anything. It looks like a sonogram of a pregnant woman, only grainier. Then the puzzle pieces come together. The shaft of the well, bricks, and increasingly heavy darkness. And a … face. Nearly impossible to make out, but Johanna gasps in shock. Henning nods.
“I didn’t get it with the usual programs, but a friend gave me a few tips on fixing the contrast so that you can see it. And now … brace yourself, Jo.” Another mouse click and the face is clearer. A girl. It’s difficult to estimate her age. Long, black hair and the tops of her shoulders can be seen. She is wearing a dress. CLICK. Johanna can’t breathe.
“She’s … climbing up the shaft,” she whispers.
“How do you think I felt when I saw that, Jo. I was paralyzed.” CLICK. In this frame, the girl has almost reached the edge of the well, and Henning visibly flinches at that moment. A white or beige dress, which children used to wear at the turn of the century.
“But her face …”
“It looks like pure evil, doesn’t it?” The girl’s features are twisted into a grimace. Johanna and Henning lean forward to get a closer look. The eyes. Although they’re barely visible, the eyes feel threatening.
“But she wasn’t there, right? Not really?” Johanna’s voice trembles a little.
“No. Otherwise she would have come out somehow.”
“And you set up the thermometer here?” She glances at the thermometer on his desk. Henning sighs, leans back, and folds his arms behind his head.
“I don’t go anywhere without this thermometer now. At night, I wake up and check the temperature, Jo. Really, I think I’m going crazy.” She knows the feeling.
“Is there any more?” she asks.
“No, those were the last photos. Everything I shot afterward was lost.”
“Want to go out for a drink tonight?” He has to think about it briefly before agreeing. Johanna gets up, Henning shuts down the computer. With his last glance at the screen, he almost gets the impression that the girl could come crawling out of the monitor.
*
Monday, September 7, 1:00 p.m., Lubeck
A tall man is waiting under the archway of the Holsten Gate. She had envisioned him in a suit, but he’s wearing jeans and a yellow sweater.
“Ms. Ebeling?” He takes a step toward her and puts out his hand. As usual, when she talks to psychologists, she puts up a facade. She can’t help it.
“Professor Ludemann.” She greets him a little louder, in order to be heard over the noise of the traffic that is flowing around the Holsten Gate.
“Come on. We’ll go along the Trave River a little ways. I always spend my break there. It’s quieter. It’s a better place to talk or think.”
They walk down a cobblestoned street past historic red brick houses along the Trave. Professor Ludemann slows down his steps.
“How do you know the boy, Ms. Ebeling?” He turns to her curiously, his hands clasped behind his back.
“I work at the witch archive. A research project that looks into supernatural phenomena and tries to find scientific answers.” In most cases, the listener reacts with surprise, but Professor Ludemann retains his interested facial expression. He’s probably already heard some pretty unusual things, Johanna thinks.
“Mrs. Falkner called us a little over a month ago and then visited us unannounced. That’s how we came into contact. I only know of Lukas Falkner from what I’ve been told.” They back away to let a cyclist through.
“And what did Mrs. Falkner come to you with?” Exactly what she had been hoping to avoid — being asked this question.
“She was looking for help because she thought that she was evil.”
“Mhm. And? Is she? Evil.” He smiles. Johanna shrugs.
“To be honest, I don’t have an answer to that. She is certainly not evil in the sense that she’s an evil person. Rather, something evil outside of her has her in its grip. Something that follows her.”
“Can you prove it?”
“We’re working on it.”
“We?”
“My colleague and I.”
“Why didn’t you bring your colleague along?”
“He’s trying to find Mrs. Falkner. Since our visit with her ended … very dramatically … we’ve been concerned about her.”
“I see.” They walk quietly for a bit, side by side. The air is fresh, but pleasantly warm.
“We have no medical explanation for the patient. During normal waking hours, he is a bright boy and very worried about himself and his family. He is suffering. He knows what he did to his brother, but can’t explain it.”
“And in the not-so-normal hours?” He looks at her for a long time before answering.
“At those other times, he’s a real devil. He spits, bites, scratches, urinates. He develops an almost superhuman strength and is very aggressive towards himself and others. The problem is that continuous medication neither lessens nor inhibits these phases. They take place with the usual ferocity, but the severity of these outbursts increases. We often have to tie him down as a last resort. And we still haven’t even been able to find a trigger for these attacks. Neither endogenous nor exogenous. It comes out of nowhere and stops again the same way. And now I’ve actually already told you too much.” He heads toward a bench with a view of the Trave River. From the distance, the sounds of traffic hang over them like a blanket of white noise, interrupted by the sounds of a pedestrian zone. Cyclists, couples, and walkers are leisurely passing to and fro. The waters of the Trave are rippling. They sit down.
“I think we’re both interested in the family’s welfare,” Johanna says.
“That’s why we’re sitting here. How do you know that the boy speaks Ancient Hebrew and recites biblical verses? Did his mother tell you?” Johanna considers her response.
“I’ve heard the voice he uses,” she answers.
“Without having ever seen him? You’ll have to explain in more detail.” He crosses his legs and leans toward her. Johanna has to smile.
“All right, I’ll tell you because I want something from you. But you have to promise to take the matter seriously.”
“You won’t believe the kinds of things I have to take seriously. Tell me.”
“When Mrs. Falkner came to us at the Institute, we interviewed her and recorded it. When we listened to the recording, we heard a voice speaking Ancient Hebrew. It said: Thou shalt not seethe a young goat in its mother’s milk, whore! And then later: I will descend upon your flesh, cunt. But that was in English.” She looks at Professor Ludemann, who seems serious and composed.
“Did you translate what the young boy says to you when he’s in that state?” she asks. He purses his lips.
“Well, it’s a bit tricky, let’s say. No one on our team knows the language and there’s always a lack of time and money. I put in for a translation, since I think it could be useful to the case. But until a decision about the … .”
“Give me the notes or records, I’ll have them translated!” Johanna interrupts. Professor Ludemann breathes in through his teeth.
“It’s very tricky, Ms. Ebeling. Do I have your word that it will remain confidential?”
“You do.”
“Would you mind if I gave you the files personally? Let’s say we meet again in a week or so?”
“That’s too late, Professor Ludemann. It would be best if I could get them today.”
He leans back in surprise. “Today? That’s completely impossible!”
“As soon as possible, then.”
“Give me your num
ber and I’ll call you as soon as I’ve put everything together for you.”
Johanna hands him her business card and writes her cell number on it. “You can call me at any time, Professor Ludemann.”
*
Tuesday, September 8, 2:12 a.m.
Johanna’s cell phone rings. She is startled awake. Her heart is immediately racing. She reaches for the cell phone and it falls from the nightstand. She only manages to pick up after the fourth ring.
“Ms. Ebeling, it’s Professor Ludemann. You said I could call you at any time. I’m taking advantage of the offer. The boy … .”
“Yes?” She is suddenly wide awake.
“The boy is having a seizure. If you’d like, you can watch it, they’ve been lasting longer lately. Maybe … you have some advice.” Scientific curiosity, fear, and worry for the boy make the answer easy.
“I’m already on my way, Professor.”
“Ask for me at reception. I have to hang up now.”
She calls Henning, who is still awake. He picks her up at her front door ten minutes later and they drive to the psychiatric clinic in Lubeck.
“Do you have everything with you?” she asks Henning.
“Camera, flash, recording device — it’s all in the backpack.”
“And the most important thing?” She grins, asking it as a joke. He reaches into his jacket pocket, pulls out his digital thermometer, and holds it up. His face remains serious.
The building is in the middle of the city, but is surrounded by enough greenery to be protected from prying eyes. The night is cool, the milky-pale light of the facility’s sign is being attacked by countless moths. Johanna and Henning hurry up the few steps, a sliding door opens, and they enter. A woman with glasses looks up and considers them.
“Ebeling. Professor Ludemann is expecting us.” The receptionist nods and reaches for the phone. A scream can be heard from the hallway on the right that leads behind the reception area. It is answered by a high-pitched screech.
“He’ll be here shortly, Ms. Ebeling. There’s a bit of a commotion around here tonight.” She rolls her eyes in the direction of the patient wing.
“Thanks.” Johanna and Henning look at each other. Discomfort is spreading. Henning looks at the thermometer inconspicuously. They hear hurried footsteps coming down the hall. Professor Ludemann. He’s wearing a white doctor’s coat and shakes their hands.
“I’m glad you could both come. Follow me, I will show you why I’ve invited you here.” More screams in the hallway. Someone laughs.
“Is that Lukas?” Johanna asks.
“No. We relocated Lukas Falkner to an observation room yesterday. It’s soundproofed — we can’t hear him here at all. But the last two nights were generally very hectic. Sometimes there are these collective episodes.”
“Soundproofed?” Henning asks.
“Exactly. When patients are unruly and loud, we separate them from the others. The rooms are also monitored with cameras because many of the patients are autoaggressive and we want to keep them from hurting themselves.”
Henning nods. The thought doesn’t sit well with him. On the right side of the corridor is a long row of windows with a view of the park. They can see the moon over a few treetops. On the left, they pass the patient rooms. The pale emergency lighting bathes the hall in a diffuse twilight. At the end of the hall, light emerges from an open door. They hear giggling, screaming, and sobbing, as they follow Professor Ludemann past a few doors. He leads them through the open door of an office, where two nurses and a doctor are waiting. Professor Ludemann introduces them and then they fall silent. To Johanna, it feels as if they’ve become part of a conspiratorial plot.
“Come on, we’ll go straight to Lukas Falkner, but first I want to start recording. You are also allowed to make photo and sound recordings, but I would request that you only use the recordings to help the boy, and not publish them.
“I assure you … .”
“Yes, yes, it’s nothing. I just wanted to have said it. I trust you.”
He leads them through the office to a door that opens into a narrow room with several monitors and measuring instruments. A cot and two office chairs make up the rest of the furniture.
“The control room. I’ll record our visit with Lukas Falkner and give you a copy to take with you at the end. Here.” He hands Johanna a stack of DVDs the width of her finger.
“These are not all the records, but, chronologically, they are the newest. Take them now before I forget.” Professor Ludemann turns on the monitors and starts recording.
“We have two observation rooms. The other is not being used at the moment. Here’s Lukas.” He points to a monitor with his index finger. They see a sinewy boy lying on a bed. There’s a nurse in the corner of the room with a hand on the door handle. The boy rears up and convulses.
“It seems to be starting. Come with me!”
They hurry back into the office.
“What I want to show you is about to start. Soon, we’ll give Lukas a strong sedative. It will be a dosage high enough to should calm him down within a minute and put him to sleep a minute later. It would even knock out a 175-pound adult. Dr. Miller?” The doctor hands Professor Ludemann a syringe. Henning gets his camera out of his backpack and gives Johanna the digital recorder.
“Ready?”
“Ready,” Johanna answers. They leave the office, go all the way down to the end of the corridor. Professor Ludemann knocks on the last door, and enters.
“I think it’s starting,” the nurse waiting in the observation room says, and steps to the side. To Henning and Johanna, the nurse seems relieved. Professor Ludemann nods to the two nurses on either side of the bed.
“Lukas, can you hear me?” Professor Ludemann’s voice has increased in volume. The boy’s trembling decreases, his body goes limp.
“Yes, Professor Ludemann.” Lukas answers. He seems calm.
“Lukas, you’re about to get one of your attacks.”
“Yes, I know.” He is motionless, lying stiff in his bed.
“I don’t know if he really still hears me or if it’s already his … other I,” Professor Ludemann whispers to them.
“I will give you a shot now. It should calm you, Lukas.”
“All right. Thank you.” Professor Ludemann nods to the two nurses. One of them takes Lukas’s arm and pushes up his pajama sleeve. The other stays near his head and waits. Professor Ludemann steps up to the bed and administers the injection to Lukas. Lukas lies still, his breathing is shallow. Professor Ludemann strokes Lukas’s head, and looks over at Johanna and Henning, as if to say “Soon.” Lukas turns his head, opens his eyes. Johanna and Henning gasp. Those eyes! Just like in the photo from the well. His expression is one of hatred, if not something worse.
“Well, little doctor man, have you brought visitors?” A voice that could never belong to a boy asks. Lukas looks over at Johanna and Henning with a twisted grin. His body shoots up, arching with great force, bending itself into an inverted U.
“YOU’D HAVE BEEN BETTER OFF STAYING WITH YOUR GAY FRIEND, LITTLE DOCTOR MAN. YOU COULD HAVE HAD YOUR ASS WOUND FUCKED!” He laughs. Drool runs from his mouth. Professor Ludemann backs away. He’s been cut to the quick. There’s helplessness in his eyes. He looks at his watch.
“One minute. You see, the sedative doesn’t work.” He shakes his head, can’t even believe it himself. Lukas shouts, his body crashing on the bed and then springing back up, crashing back down, repeating it harder and faster.
“Secure him right now!” Professor Ludemann orders the nurses.
“Johanna!” Henning shows her the thermometer while he films. “Four degrees colder!” The nurses take two steps to the bed and first go to secure Lukas’s arms.
“NO!” Lukas bellows, hits a nurse in the chest, throwing him all the way back to the wall.
“FAGGOT,” he screams at Professor Ludemann. “YOU’RE INTO BOYS, LITTLE DOCTOR MAN!” Lukas laughs, spitting at Professor Ludemann. The nurse gets bac
k on his feet and the three of them are now surrounding the boy.
“YOU LIKE IT WHEN YOU BLEED.” Lukas hits himself on the nose, once, twice. Blood sprays on the bed, his head is hurled back.
“For God’s sake, secure him!” Professor Ludemann cries out and, suddenly, Lukas is still. The nurses immediately begin to secure him. Lukas pants, his breath condensing in the air.
“Forty-five degrees,” Henning whispers, keeping his camera pointed at the bed. Lukas lifts his head. Slowly. He laughs and stares at Professor Ludemann, who is clearly affected by what just took place. Lukas speaks to him in a different language and then laughs.
“That’s what you mean, right?” Professor Ludemann checks with Johanna and Henning. He struggles to maintain his composure.
“Yes,” Johanna whispers, barely audibly because Lukas is talking to himself in a monotone voice. Meanwhile, the nurses have bound his arms, legs, torso, and head to the door.
“What else has happened during these attacks?” Henning asks.
“Nothing else. He throws out insults and speaks in that language. Sometimes he ridicules the people present, provoking them. Eventually, he falls asleep.
“Does it always get so cold?” Johanna asks. Professor Ludemann considers the clouds that come out with every sentence Lukas utters.
“No. No, not in a way that caught our attention, right, Dr. Miller?”
The doctor shakes her head. She is clearly freezing now.
“And … the flies?” Henning nods toward the bed.
“Flies?” Professor Ludemann asks, confused. Johanna, Professor Ludemann, and Dr. Miller look over. Around Lukas’s head, there are a number of fly carcasses that look as if they crawled right out of him and died.
“The room is climate controlled and the windows are closed. That’s impossible!” Professor Ludemann hisses. Lukas lets out a throaty laugh, then speaks again, and later falls into a restless sleep. As they leave, Professor Ludemann looks as if he’s aged years.
Johanna and Henning reach Hamburg in the wee hours of the morning. There’s a light drizzle, but the sun is coming though. Henning double-parks in front of Johanna’s apartment, but she doesn’t get out. With blank stares, they watch a garbage truck and the garbage men collecting and emptying trashcans from the side of the road.
