Living the Good Death

by Scott Baron

  Randy pushed the play button on the answering machine, a smile blossoming on his face when he heard his daughter’s voice.

  “Hi, Daddy. What? Oh, Grandma says hi…”

  Even just a few days living on the streets can sometimes lead to interesting and unexpected friendships being forged between people of vastly different worlds. Case in point, the girl who thought she was Death and the woman who once owned twenty cats sat together on a bench and divvied up the food they’d scavenged during the day.

  Dorothy had done well and pulled a shiny, green Granny Smith apple from her pocket, along with a packet of jerky and a small bag of day-old muffins procured from a friendly local baker as he closed shop.

  “Getting the hang of things,” Beth noted approvingly as she produced a small knife from the folds of her garments and began cutting the apple, pausing to break off a tiny piece of a muffin to feed to her small, curly-whiskered pet rat as he poked his head out of her pocket. “A miniature long-tailed dog,” she had described her loyal pet, and the more Dorothy observed the two interact, the more she thought the comparison fit.

  With as happy a look as a rat could muster, (which, let’s be honest, is pretty happy,) the tiny critter took the offering in his tiny hands and merrily chewed, crumbs dropping between his little fingers.

  “So, any luck today?” Beth queried.

  “Five days and still nothing,” Dorothy replied sullenly.

  “Well, you’ll get there, girl, I just know it. Egon thinks so too.” She scratched the little rat’s head as he happily gnawed on his treat.

  “But it’s taking so long, and I’m no closer than when I started,” Dorothy lamented.

  “Yeah, but the thing you have to consider is, it just might be a different road than the one you’re on is all.”

  She considered her new friend’s take on the situation. Beth could be right, for all she knew. After all, her current path seemed to have run her into a dead end.

  If only I had an idea which road might be the right one.

  She was just starting to think that maybe she’d need to take the advice and try a different approach, when, out of nowhere, a pair of large hands grabbed her by the upper arms from behind and roughly dragged her backwards, over the bench, and up onto her feet.

  “Hey, get off of me!”

  Heads whipped around at Dorothy’s cry, but then quickly returned to their previous business.

  The pair of orderlies were accompanied by a transit cop, and the mere threat implied by his presence made the otherwise outspoken and often rowdy throng a bit restrained. Even the fighters in the bunch decided this wasn’t something they wanted to get mixed up in.

  Beth, on the other hand, jumped to her feet, still holding the small knife in her hand.

  “Let her go! You’ve got no right!”

  “Lady, put that thing down before someone gets hurt,” growled the orderly. From the tone of his voice, he knew damn well he wasn’t going to be the one injured.

  The transit cop had his hand on his gun but hadn’t drawn it. Unlike so many of his trigger-happy compatriots, he wanted to deescalate the situation if he could before resorting to lethal force.

  “I understand you’re trying to protect your friend, but you have to understand that she’s an escaped mental patient. She needs care, and I know you don’t want to spend the night in jail. Just stand back and let these men do their job.”

  Beth looked at him with pleading eyes, but he slowly shook his head no. He didn’t want to be forced to act, but he would if pushed too far.

  She had to make a decision. Reluctantly, she put her knife away and sat back down with the others, while one of the orderlies hauled Dorothy out the doors to their waiting van.

  “Call Doctor Vaughan,” he shouted over his shoulder. “Tell him we’ve got her and are on our way in.”

  CHAPTER 14

  Doctor Vaughan’s face looked as if he wore a mask. No emotions betrayed, his visage showing nothing but calm. It remained that way a good long while as he reclined in his chair and observed the girl who thought she was Death. He coolly studied her as she sat just across the large desk from him.

  He hadn’t spoken a single word since she’d been ushered in. He just looked at her.

  What’s his game? she couldn’t help but wonder.

  A red light on his phone had been flashing for over a minute, yet with his tranquil façade of cool and calm, he acted as if he didn’t even notice.

  “Pure folly, Dorothy,” he finally said, opening a folder on his desk and casually glancing at its pages. “Bringing you back was hardly an effort at all. We’d have gotten around to you much sooner, were you not such a low priority on our list. But at last, you are now back where you belong. This is your home, and if you shape up and get with the program, things will go smoothly for you. If, however, you insist on being disruptive…”

  His mask of tranquility slipped, and the glare that peeked out spoke volumes about just how unpleasant he could make her stay if he so wished.

  “Behave,” he said ominously. “Or else. Clear? Now get out.” He didn’t even wait for a response as he turned his attention to the papers on his desk, acting as if she wasn’t even there and he hadn’t a care in the world.

  The flashing light on his phone still didn’t warrant even a glance.

  That’s it? She wondered if it was a trick, but when, after several moments Doctor Vaughan continued to pay her no heed, Dorothy rose and exited, quietly closing the door behind her.

  As soon as she was gone a slight shudder passed over Doctor Vaughan’s body and his posture deflated just a bit. He looked at the phone, his shoulders slouching even more as his calm expression slowly cracked, until his true distress shone through.

  With obvious dread, he reluctantly reached for his phone and held it to his ear. He paused for a moment, his finger hovering over the flashing light, then finally took the call off hold.

  “I’m so sorry for the delay, I had to take care of a little—No, sir, I assure you there’s been no disruption here. We—No, they must be mistaken. Of course, sir, I’ll have the logs sent right over. I can assure you, there has been no—Yes, of course. I can bring them personally. Would sometime next week work? Oh, I see—”

  Again he had been hung up on, though he wasn’t sure which emotion was stronger in him at that moment. Anger at his boss’s actions, or gratitude that he was finally off the uncomfortable phone call.

  “Susan,” he called over the intercom, “I’m going to be visiting our board this evening. Would you please pull together our incident logs for the past two weeks? And bring me a few blank pages, if you’d be so kind.”

  It was more cover-your-ass time, something he had become quite familiar with during his tenure as chief of staff. Unfortunately, he sensed this new girl was going to be far more trouble than he’d originally bargained for. He just hoped the additional revenue from her state-funded care would make the trade-off worthwhile.

  He wished he didn’t have to wait until the following quarter for the board to next review the financials. Incidents could be swept under the rug if the numbers looked good. Cold, hard cash was all that really mattered to the board and the shareholders they answered to. He had to formulate a plan, and quickly.

  Wrapped in a light robe, Dorothy sat quietly, sipping a mug of steaming tea in one of the over-stuffed chairs in the hospital recreation area, lost deep in thought. From the corner of her eye, she registered someone approaching.

  Curtis plopped down next to her, a bit over-dramatically, with a pair of pudding cups in hand.

  “Hey, she’s back!” he said, offering her one of his sugar-laden treats. “Pudding?”

  She shot him a sour look. After all I’ve gone through, this guy wants to feed me pudding?

  “No? Okay, your loss. More for me.” He chuckled, then dug in to his treat with obvious relish.

  What’s with this guy and his ridiculous sweet tooth, anyway? I mean, okay, despite his oddness, he did actually he
lp me, and he doesn’t seem to be a bad person. Of course, the escape was a wash. Now I have to find another way out of here. Some way to get back. I wonder if—

  The lights flickered as she heard a guttural bellow echo down the sterile hallways.

  “Did you see that?” she asked, staring at the lights.

  “See what?” Curtis replied, as he licked his spoon clean.

  The sounds of a fierce struggle reverberated off the walls, getting louder. Closer. The source of the ruckus became visible as the yelling man passed the doorway, while several large orderlies, wearing gloves and goggles, struggled to lead the exceptionally combative fellow to his room.

  As the fracas drew near, the reason for the protective gear became clear.

  The man was a mess, covered in weeping boils, though they seemed to be healing, and layers of sloughing scabs, which had apparently taken the place of oozing sores on much of his body. The man looked far from healthy.

  His energy seemed to finally be fading, his struggling lessening, when his gaze panned across the room. As soon as he caught sight of Dorothy, his eyes widened.

  With a burst of unexpected energy, he broke free and ran straight for her.

  “It’s YOU! You can’t be here—what if the apocalypse comes? The horsemen can’t ride without YOU!”

  The rabble in the rec room abruptly went totally silent, and as a result the television became audible, the news anchor’s voice clear over the suddenly still room as everyone stared at the wild man.

  “Though the car slid all the way down the ravine, no fatalities were reported. In other news…” the anchor reported.

  “You see! You’re not doing your job! The others can only do so much to cover for you, but some people are slipping through the cracks. The system wasn’t intended for others to do it. It was designed for you! Those people were supposed to die! It’s only going to get worse. The rest of us can’t pick up your slack forever!”

  He was about to continue his rant when two pairs of very large gloved hands yanked him back on his heels, dragging him toward the door. Thrashing and twisting in the men’s grasp, the ill fellow somehow managed to once more break free, though only for a second, but it was long enough for him to run up to Stein and give him a bear hug before being torn away and hauled off, kicking and screaming, but also laughing.

  Molly, who had always been one of the more off-kilter residents, watched with twisted amusement as she saw the imminent germ-induced freak-out building steam.

  “Oh man, this’ll be good,” she laughed. And indeed it would.

  Poor Stein. The germaphobe had just been hugged by his worst nightmare.

  “Oh. My. God.”

  He looked shell-shocked. Horrified. Disgusted to levels he would have never thought possible. Then he started shaking from head to toe.

  “Ohmygod-ohmygod-ohmygod!” he yelled, running towards the restrooms. “Get it off me! Get it off! Oh my God, I need a shower! Get out of my way!” His cries of panic and disgust echoed off the linoleum floors and industrial-painted walls as he frantically raced for a disinfectant soap and scalding hot water salvation, shedding clothes in the hallway as he ran, not caring that he was about to be naked for all to see.

  The ill-looking madman laughed maliciously as he watched the scene unfold as he was escorted from the room, the duty nurse scolding him as he was unceremoniously hauled away.

  “Now you know if you don’t take your medicine we’ll never get the rest of that rash cleared up. You have to listen to Doctor Vaughan and do what he says.” Her tirade was cut short as the doors closed behind them, only muffled chastising audible, and rapidly growing fainter.

  Curtis turned to a rather surprised Dorothy.

  “Oh yeah, should have told you. We’ve got one of the Horsemen of the Apocalypse now. Came in while you were away. Thinks he’s Pestilence. I guess that’s kind of obvious.”

  “More like just a pest, if you ask me,” Molly chimed in. “That guy’s a total dick. And he smells.”

  Dorothy just sat there, stunned, for several moments with an astonished look on her face as the muffled yells of the supposed Horseman of the Apocalypse faded to silence in the halls.

  Fortunately for Dorothy, she had learned the ropes from Curtis quickly and had mastered the art of pretending to take her pills as the nurse made her morning rounds. Clear-headed and with her wits fully about her, she was worried things might be spiraling out of control.

  What could the appearance of a Horseman of the Apocalypse in the same realm, and same mental hospital as her, possibly signify? And if the others were helping reap souls while she was away, just how much time did she have before things got really bad?

  Is he some sort of sign? Maybe a possible way out? she pondered. I should get Curtis’s take on this.

  Though Dorothy had only been there a short time, much to her surprise, she and Curtis had developed an easy sort of friendship, locked away behind the walls at Camview. She felt he was trustworthy, and once that had been established, found herself appreciating his unusual, but often accurate, take on things.

  Afternoon came, and Dorothy had once more taken up a comfy spot in the rec room, her legs curled under her as she sat on the old couch, discussing her situation with her insane friend while he downed his fourth pudding cup. At least she wasn’t worried whether he thought she was crazy.

  This is a mental hospital, she thought. Crazy fits right in.

  “So,” Curtis said, “about your new best buddy.”

  “If that really is Pestilence, well, he shouldn’t look like that. I mean from what I understand, he should be all boils and pus from head to toe.”

  “Charming.”

  “I mean it. Something isn’t right.”

  “Well, they did put him on some pretty serious antibiotics, from what I hear. Maybe that’s why he looks like he does,” Curtis hypothesized. “Still, he really doesn’t seem much like a supernatural being. That, and Molly’s right. The guy is kind of a dick.”

  “But what if that really is him? I can’t risk passing up the opportunity to learn what he knows. I’ve got to see him, to find out why he is here. He may even know how I can get back.”

  Dorothy clearly wanted to find a way out of her dilemma, and badly at that, but for the immediate future he knew that simply wouldn’t be an option.

  “Look,” he said, “they’ve got him locked up in isolation for the time being, so I’m afraid that if you really want to talk to him, you’re going to have to be patient and wait.”

  “I don’t like waiting.”

  “Who does?” Curtis looked around, making sure no one could overhear them. “Listen, I get it that you feel you have to stick around for this guy, but in the meantime, why not have a little fun? Life’s short, after all. So what do you think? You wanna go out tonight?”

  She looked at him like he was nuts. Then she remembered.

  Oh yeah, he is nuts.

  “Out?” she asked. “I have a feeling they’ve tightened security quite a bit since I’ve been gone,” she said with a grim laugh.

  “Oh, yeah, the exits are all locked down tight these days, but I have a little backup option no one knows about. It’s super-secret, so you have to double-special-pinkie-swear-promise me you won’t tell anyone.”

  She looked at him with a doubting stare.

  “I’m serious. Promise.”

  “Fine, I promise.”

  “Pinkie swear?” He extended his little finger.

  “Pinkie what?”

  “Just do it.”

  She held out her pinkie, which Curtis promptly locked with his in a conspiratorial shake.

  “Excellent! Okay, so here’s the thing: If Big Stan is on duty you can forget it. That guy’s a serious pain and damn near impossible to get past, but it’s Friday, and he never works Fridays. The others really aren’t so hard to get around.”

  “But you just said the exits are all locked down.”

  “Yeah, well, the thing is, yes, they’re paranoid ab
out the exits, but they never lock the doors to the rooms at night.”

  “That doesn’t make sense.”

  “Word is, the people who own this place are cracking down on Vaughan to boost revenues, so even though he’s reducing people’s hours to save a few bucks, the doors still have to stay unlocked in case of fire or emergency, since they’re understaffed. Anyway, all of that doesn’t matter. What does is that if you come with me, I know a way out.”

  She looked at him dubiously. “Then why are you still here?”

  “Hey, out there I have to find an apartment, pay bills, get a job. I mean have you tried finding one lately? At least in here I get three square meals, a warm bed, and free movies three nights a week. Sure, it’s the same movies over and over, but still.”

  Gears were turning behind her eyes, but Curtis found he couldn’t read the expression on her face as she studied him.

  Can I really trust this guy? she thought. So far, he’s been the one person to look out for me in here…

  “So whaddya say?” he chided. “Let’s hit the town. Besides, if you really are Death, then maybe it’d do you some good to live a little.”

  She snickered at his attempt at humor but still seemed hesitant.

  “Oh, come on, that guy will still be locked up when we get back, and you can’t talk to him until they let him out of isolation, anyway. What else have you got to do? Have some pressing game of Candy Land or Monopoly you’d rather get back to?”

  Well, I guess he does have a point.

  “Hey, you know what? You may even find a different way back to wherever you need to go while we’re out. Then you wouldn’t even need to talk to that nutter. You think of that?”

  What can it hurt?

  Convinced, but only just, Dorothy nodded her head as she quietly agreed.

  “All right,” she said. “But I can’t go out like this.” She motioned to her pajama-like hospital outfit.

  “Don’t worry,” Curtis replied. “I’ll take care of everything. I’m sure I can find you something that will fit.”