Living the Good Death

by Scott Baron

  The thought had just run through her mind when Randy rummaged in his coat pocket and pulled out his blue enamel pocket watch. He flicked the lid open and held it to the light, checking the time.

  Dorothy’s eyes widened at the sight of the unusual timepiece. She couldn’t help but recognize it immediately.

  It can’t just be a coincidence.

  “Okay,” she blurted. “You’re on.”

  Randy misread her excitement, taking it as interest in him, rather than Dorothy’s sudden realization that this man with the unique pocket watch might be more important in the scheme of things than she’d originally realized.

  “Great!” he said, reaching for his cell phone. “Let me get your number.”

  Number? Shit, what am I supposed to say, “Just call Camview Psychiatric Hospital and ask for Death?”

  “Hey, let’s just meet here next time. That’s easiest,” she improvised.

  “What, with your coffee experience you still have good memories of this place?”

  “I do now,” she said, smiling at him.

  She noted the sudden hint of red in his cheeks and wondered if he was blushing, or was it just the chilly night air? Either way, Randy was glad for the follow-up date.

  “Okay, here it shall be,” he said. “Let’s say Tuesday at eight?”

  “I don’t think I can get out before Friday. And let’s make it ten. I’m kinda locked into something before then.”

  “Friday at ten it is. I’ll see you then.”

  He paused a moment, his body language awkward as his mind tried to process what had just happened.

  A date with a girl. How long had it been?

  He studied her for a moment, unsure if he should give her a hug, or try for a kiss. Maybe just a handshake.

  God, I’m so out of practice with this stuff, he lamented. With a shrug, he opted for the easiest choice rather than make a fool of himself.

  “All right, see ya Tuesday!” Randy said, then turned and walked down the street, looking back and smiling at her before rounding the corner.

  “Wow, a new boyfriend already. No wonder you wanted to come here,” Curtis laughed as he popped out of the shadows.

  Dorothy smacked him, startled.

  “Don’t do that!”

  He leaned on her playfully as the duo started walking back toward the late bus that would take them home to Camview.

  “Come on, we need to get back.”

  “Where did you go, Curtis? You ditched me.”

  He was about to answer, when they came upon a middle-aged bag lady. She was there alone, wrapped in blankets, her legs sprawled across the sidewalk as she mumbled to herself while sitting in a doorway.

  Curtis, unlike the residents of the neighborhood, stopped in his tracks and looked at the woman. Dorothy could see his permanently jovial mood shift as a flash of pity and concern filled his eyes. That out-of-character, un-Curtis look only lasted a moment, though, and quick as a flash his goofy self was back, grinning happily as he dug through his pockets.

  “Right. Now, let’s see, where is it?” he said as he dug deeper. “Ah, here we go! Risperdal.” He held a small pill bottle up to the streetlight to better read the label. “Now I want you to take this once in the morning and once at night, all right? Better take it with some food too,” he said, handing her some crumpled bills from his pocket. “There, that’ll get you started.”

  For whatever reason, the woman stopped her mumbling and took the offering from him, her eyes seeming to clear from her demented haze, if only just for a moment.

  “Yes, Doctor, thank you.”

  “My pleasure. Now remember, twice a day, and get some food. I’ll see you in three weeks.”

  With that, they continued on their way. Dorothy looked at him, confused and not understanding what had just happened.

  “What? Just doing my good deed for the day. Not like Camview’s going to miss them.”

  They walked in silence for a moment.

  “So, you didn’t answer me,” she said a bit more pointedly. “Where did you run off to?”

  He held up a fistful of cash in one hand, while the other appeared from the depths of his coat pocket holding a watch, an iPhone and a cheap gold plated money clip with a rhinestone dollar sign on it.

  “I had some stuff to take care of,” he replied. “You know, a little three-card Monty, some back alley dice…”

  “And what exactly did you say to Angela? You ditched me, Curtis!”

  “Oh, I just told her I was your doctor, and getting you out and about was part of your therapy. Your treatment is coming along quite nicely, I must say. I must be pretty good.”

  She fixed him with a cold stare.

  “What?” he said with a laugh. “I didn’t ditch you, I had things to do. Besides, you seemed to be in good hands. Good, strong, manly hands.”

  Dorothy felt her face growing flushed and warm.

  “Aah, learning her way around a strange new world, meeting exciting new people. Our little Dorothy’s not in Kansas anymore!”

  “Why do people keep saying that?” she asked, exasperated.

  “Movie night tomorrow,” he said with a wink. “You’ll see.”

  CHAPTER 18

  There was a buzz in the air as movie night wrapped up. Even the more sedated of the group seemed energized by the entertainment, though in their case that often meant they just drooled with more enthusiasm. Regardless, the crowd, as a whole, seemed to be in a particularly cheerful mindset as the credits scrolled.

  Beckman had stopped talking about tax codes for once, and even Stein, the germaphobe, seemed to not mind being in close proximity to so many potential Patient Zeroes.

  As they filed out of the room, Nurse Myra took the plain, silver DVD out of the player and placed it back in its case.

  “Thanks, Myra!” Curtis called out to her from across the room. “Great film, as always!”

  The tired and overworked woman just nodded to him and shuffled back to her nurse’s station.

  A bit of tension crackled through the front of the line as the crowd bottlenecked on the way out. As if the universe could sense that little bit of stress as it worked its way back into an otherwise Zen evening, Stein found himself stuck in the exit line, the unfortunate target of a good-natured, but nevertheless annoying bombardment.

  “Knock-knock.”

  “Oh, come on, not now, Warren,” Stein sighed. “No knock knock jokes tonight, okay?” He really should have learned by now.

  “Who’s there?” Warren replied, his enthusiasm growing.

  “No, I didn’t—Oh, shut up, it’s time for bed.”

  “Shut up it’s time for bed who?”

  “Seriously?” lamented Stein. “Can’t someone please medicate him? Just for a day? Please?”

  Fortunately for him, the crowd surged, and he was pushed across the threshold, out into the freedom of the nice, wide hallway, where he could make his escape.

  Dorothy and Curtis were in no rush, and took their time, leaving at the tail end of the pack. She didn’t seem amused, per se, but she did appear a bit more enlightened, at least about the constant references to her name.

  “Okay, Curtis. I get it now.”

  “See?”

  “Yeah. But flying monkeys? Really?”

  Curtis was still riding the high of the film he adored. “Yeah, right?” he said with glee. “I told you it was awesome!”

  The line thinned, and they finally made it to the hallway. Curtis turned to the left to head back to his room, but Dorothy turned the other direction, heading straight toward the isolation area.

  “Hey, this way.”

  “I’ll catch up,” she said. “I’ve got something I need to do.”

  He threw her a concerned look but thought better of trying to talk her out of it.

  “Okay, just be careful.”

  “Yes, Dad,” she replied with a smirk.

  Walking the facility end-to-end down the dimly lit corridors, Big Stan rattled each and
every door securing the path between wings. He made a point to give an extra tug on any and all doors leading to the outside, just to be sure.

  They may have been checked by the security staff and hooked to alarms to boot, but Doctor Vaughan had made his wishes clear, and Stan sure as hell wasn’t going to have any patients going MIA on his watch.

  “East hall three, secure,” he said into his walkie-talkie. “West, how are we looking?”

  “Finishing up now,” was the reply.

  “Copy that. Movie over?”

  “Copy, it’s done and they’re heading back to their rooms.”

  “Copy, out.”

  Stan pulled the keys from his hip and opened the door to the next wing, slamming it shut behind him with a bang, yanking it hard to ensure it was firmly locked before continuing his rounds.

  Dorothy moved quietly down the hallway, tip-toeing silently in her slippered feet, sticking to the walls and ducking under the windows of the break room and nurse’s station as she passed by.

  With great caution, she quietly made her way down the hall, scanning the locked doors as she passed, finally stopping near the end of the hall.

  I think this is the one.

  “Hey,” she whispered to the thick metal door. “Can you hear me? Are you there?”

  The silence stretched on.

  Could they have moved him? What if he’s in a different wing?

  From behind the thick door she heard a phlegmy cough, followed by a familiar rumbling voice asking a question with an obvious answer.

  “So, you’re still here? Now, why is that? Thought you’d be long gone by now.”

  “I need to speak with you about getting back… but also about something else,” she said, hesitating, unsure what her course of action should be. “You seem to know what’s going on here. Could a human somehow be connected with me being trapped in this realm? Maybe if they possessed a relic of some sort? A timepiece, maybe?”

  A throaty chuckle found its way to her ears from behind the door.

  “I thought you would have figured this all out by now. They always made you out to be so smart.”

  “Look, jackass, I just need you to tell me this one thing,” she shot back. She was quickly getting pissed at the uncooperative man inconveniently locked out of reach. “That, and how I can cross back.”

  “Oh, well, the second part is simple,” he replied, but she heard no more as a calloused hand closed on her shoulder and yanked her to her feet.

  “Just what do you think you’re doing?”

  She didn’t recognize the orderly.

  He must only work this wing. He doesn’t know who I am.

  “Um, I got turned around. Merry go round, round and round. Where’s my… I can’t find my room.”

  Man, that was a horrible crazy person impersonation.

  “See your nutjob friends down there?” He gestured to the open door down the hall. “Go follow them and don’t wander off. This is an isolation area. You aren’t supposed to be here.”

  He actually bought it? Maybe I’m better at this than I thought. Curtis must be rubbing off on me. I wonder if that’s a good thing.

  “Thank you, yes, thank you… walking, walking… down the hall,” she muttered as she made her way to rejoin the others while the orderly just watched her go, a potential bullet dodged.

  Dorothy may have pulled one over on the night orderly, but any feeling of relief she may have had evaporated the following afternoon when she was summoned to Doctor Vaughan’s office.

  Sitting on the uncomfortable bench outside his door, she was forced to wait. There was nowhere for her to go, no chance of escape, but he had decided to make a statement. So it was she found herself flanked by two of his more intimidating minions as she sat outside his closed door.

  Inside his office, Doctor Vaughan was unusually relaxed as he chatted on the phone, fiddling with his magic hanky absentmindedly, not a care in the world, at least not for the moment, as he ignored the flashing intercom light on his desk.

  “Of course, it was my pleasure. I’m glad you like it,” he cooed into the phone. His voice was calmer than likely anyone on staff had ever heard directed their way. “Yes,” he said soothingly, “I’ll be happy to show you how to use it when I see you this weekend. No, it’s no bother, I don’t mind at all. It just plugs in to the USB port—No, not that one, it’s the one on the side—”

  A knock on his door interrupted him, then his secretary poked her head inside.

  “I’m sorry to disturb you Doctor Vaughan. The patient you asked to see—”

  He held up a single finger and fixed her with his gaze.

  One. Moment.

  Wisely, the secretary didn’t utter another syllable as she waited for him to finish.

  “Okay, I have to go. Yes, I know. Yes, but I really do have to go now. All right, see you this weekend. I love you too, Mom.”

  He hung up the phone, and as he glanced at his aide, the familiar hardness slid across his visage.

  “Send her in.”

  The two burly men roughly ushered Dorothy through his door, closing it behind her with an ominous click.

  Taking more detailed notice of his office this time, she realized it was designed not so much as a workspace than as a way for him to impress and intimidate.

  The books were arranged so visitors could see the multitude of heavy titles in difficult subjects, the animal heads were carefully mounted, a slight downward tilt to them, their gaze aimed at the space in front of his desk. Even his degrees and awards were hung with an audience in mind.

  Of course, what most didn’t know was that only the certificates closest to the door, and thus within reading range, were real. The half dozen impressive-looking certificates and awards mounted behind his desk were nothing more than Latin gibberish with large foil-embossed stamps.

  Her eyesight was better than most, as was her grasp of Latin, and Dorothy wondered if any of his visitors ever called him out on his fraudulent papers, or if she was the only one to notice.

  Judging by the look in his eye, she decided today wouldn’t be a good day to ask.

  Doctor Vaughan eyeballed her disdainfully from behind his immaculately polished desk, the dark wood’s deep luster nearly glowing from the many hours it had been polished over the years. He silently, and deliberately, tucked his magic hanky into his coat pocket, staring her down as he did so.

  Ah, so he’s still upset about that, she thought.

  She had realized, as she observed him in his personal environment within the hospital, that his magic tricks were just a tactic used to demonstrate his superior skills and knowledge. To show he was more clever. That he was the boss. A reinforcement of his power that allowed him to keep control of the facility, both patients and staff.

  He was all about being one move ahead of everyone else, and she’d rocked that boat.

  More than once.

  Doctor Vaughan’s gaze shifted briefly to the old picture of his wife on his desk. Uncanny, he thought as he looked at the troublesome young woman standing before him.

  “Please, sit,” he finally said. The ‘please’ sounded more like a statement of habit than an invitation born of politeness.

  Pulling out one of the chairs facing his desk, Dorothy slowly sat down, unsure what he had in store for her. For several moments he just stared at her. Obviously this was meant to make her uncomfortable, but as the good doctor was already learning, his manipulative tricks didn’t seem to work on this one.

  Hey, she thought as she looked up at him, why up? These chairs are much lower than his, she realized with silent amusement. It figures. This guy just loves playing intimidation games.

  Seeing her sitting comfortably, and not at all intimidated by his routine, he finally broke the silence.

  “So, Dorothy. My nurses tell me that you persist in this fantasy that you are a supernatural being. That you are in fact Death.”

  “I’m telling the truth.”

  A hint of deep annoyance flashed
briefly across his face. “And have you ever noticed that it’s always the sane people who say they’re crazy, while the crazy ones keep insisting they are perfectly sane? So, would you care to try again?”

  “I am Death. I can’t help being what I was created as,” she replied without hesitation.

  He was not amused.

  “I get it,” he sneered. “‘I’m not bad, I’m just drawn that way,’ is that it?” She looked at him, confused but not intimidated.

  To him, it was inconceivable she wouldn’t react at all to his machinations. He realized, to his consternation, that he simply didn’t know how to handle this difficult patient, and she had already very nearly cost him his job. His kingdom. The frustration as that settled in was finally too much to contain, and his displeasure began boiling to the surface.

  In an instant, Doctor Vaughan’s anger jumped from a three to a nine, threatening to go all the way to eleven.

  “You listen to me, you will stop this charade at once!” he fumed. “You are a disruptive presence in my facility, and I will not have you upsetting the other patients with your nonsense.”

  “I’m not doing anything to your patients.”

  “You are an instigator! Your actions cost this facility money and resources we cannot afford to spend. My job is hard enough without you bringing me under even more scrutiny.” He paused, catching himself. He was giving away too much information in his anger.

  Doctor Vaughan forced himself to take a deep breath, after which his tone calmed somewhat, though the message was just as fierce.

  “Either you shape up and get with the program here, or I swear you won’t see the outside of these walls again until you’re so old that the death you always talk about will be the one thing you pray for. Do I make my self clear?”

  She nodded affirmatively and wisely kept her mouth shut.

  “Good. Now get out!”

  The patients who had been lingering in the hallway nearby couldn’t help but overhear his outburst, despite the soundproofing of his door. When Dorothy exited his office, they quickly looked away.