Living the Good Death

by Scott Baron

  “Right. I should clean up my mess and get organized.”

  Dorothy rose and walked to the bedroom closet. Within a few minutes, she had re-arranged her new clothes in a more logical manner. There. All in order. Oh yeah, I have stuff in the dryer.

  She went and retrieved her formerly soaked clothing from the machine and laid them out on the bed to fold. Her shirt went in the drawer Randy had cleared for her, while her pants had a similar space ready for them in the closet.

  Dorothy froze when her fingers brushed a crumpled wad in the back pocket of the pants she was folding. Her heart pounding, Dorothy carefully took the crinkled paper out and smoothed it on the dresser.

  “There’s still a chance,” she gasped, a surge of adrenaline flooding through her veins. She put the note down and quickly got dressed.

  Dorothy was going out.

  The paper had just one thing written on it: Westmoreland Psychiatric, 1223 Bates Drive.

  Finding the address was relatively easy. A simple bus ride and short transfer had taken her to a bus stop a mere block from the imposing glass and concrete facility. Westmoreland Psychiatric was the polar opposite of Camview: a beacon of modern medicine, housed in a state-of-the-art facility.

  Bright, warm lights shone invitingly from the lobby, and the staff milling about were all clothed in starched and ironed uniforms.

  Dorothy steeled her nerves and walked through the front door. There was a pause as the double-door system cycled her into the building, the door behind her locking before the one in front of her opened.

  “Hello, may I help you?” a smiling woman asked from behind the reception desk.

  “Yes, I believe my friend may have been transferred to your facility. I’d like to see him, if that’s possible,” Dorothy replied in the most calm voice she could manage.

  The woman turned to her computer. “All right, let me check our system. What’s your friend’s name?”

  “He goes by Pestilence.”

  “Pestilence?” the woman flashed a perplexed look.

  “Yes, um…”

  Shit! What did Stan call him? Jerry something?

  “What I mean is, he suffers a delusion that he is a Horseman of the Apocalypse. Pestilence, to be exact.”

  “Well, I need a name to look him up. You do know his name, don’t you?” the woman asked, a hint of probing curiosity in her eyes.

  “I knew him from outreach we did… um… at the bus depot,” Dorothy quickly covered. “Food for the homeless, that kind of thing. He never did tell me his full name. I believe it was Jerry something.”

  “Hang on, let me see if I can find him in here,” the woman answered, turning back to her screen.

  Dorothy glanced around nervously. This was not going as smoothly as she’d hoped. High on the wall, she noticed the surveillance cameras monitoring the area. Several, actually.

  No way to dodge that. Just stay calm. Everything is normal here. No one will ever even review the videos, there’s nothing out of the ordinary going on here.

  Then she noticed it.

  A bulletin board behind the desk.

  Most of it was covered with flyers about the importance of hand washing, emergency protocols, and a few department-specific notices. Also on the board, were several sheets with missing patient information and mug shots.

  One of them bore the name Dorothy Maitland.

  Shit! Dorothy forced herself to breathe slowly. She hasn’t noticed, just act normal.

  The woman turned from her computer. Something was familiar about the woman at her desk, but she couldn’t quite place it.

  “Okay, I see one patient transfer that looks like your friend, but I can’t let you in without prior written approval since he’s in a high-security wing. What you need to do is fill this out, then bring it back to me with two forms of photo identification. My supervisor will review it and log you into the system. After that, you’ll be cleared for a visitor’s pass.”

  Dorothy took the form from her and put it in her pocket.

  “Excellent, I’ll get right on that. Thank you so much for all your help.” She turned and walked to the door.

  The handle wouldn’t budge.

  What? She began to turn, ready for the inevitable sight of orderlies rushing to take her away.

  “Hang on, I need to buzz you out,” the woman called out to her.

  Dorothy breathed a sigh of relief. There wasn’t an orderly in sight. The door buzzed, and a few moments after that she was safe on the street outside. Safe, but also unlikely to ever see Pestilence again.

  She quickly strode away from the building and caught the first bus heading remotely the direction she wanted. The most important thing at that moment was to get as far from Westmoreland Psychiatric Hospital as possible.

  The bus ride was an uncomfortable one, and not due to the sweaty crowd. Dorothy’s nerves were in a jumble, and a feeling of dread hung over her like a cloud. She disembarked, having traveled a bit off-course from her original destination, and found herself walking a familiar-looking street as she followed the bus driver’s directions toward her transfer stop.

  Her heart began to pound when she saw the store right there in front of her. She’d never seen it in daylight. For that matter, she’d only seen it once before.

  This can’t be coincidence, she told herself as she stepped into the old book shop.

  It looked the same as it had the night she’d visited it with her friends, but in daylight it seemed to lack something. A feeling she’d had that night. The young man at the counter looked up from his cell phone.

  “You need something?”

  Dorothy approached him. Indeed she did.

  “I bought a book here a few months ago and was hoping you might have another copy. An occult book the older gentleman who works the night shift found for me.”

  “Night shift?” the man said, confused. “We close at eight.”

  “But I was here. He got it from those shelves, right over there.”

  “I’m kinda new here, but no one ever told me the place had been open nights, and I don’t know any old guy on staff. You remember his name?”

  She thought a moment.

  “I never asked it.”

  “Huh, well, I guess it’s possible maybe he left just before I started. Anyway, let’s see if we’ve got what you’re looking for.

  It took some searching, but less than ten minutes later, Dorothy exited the shop with a brand-new, crisp-spined copy of her missing book in her hands. She rushed to the bus stop, anxious to get home and begin the lengthy process again.

  Fortune smiled on her once again as she walked the final blocks home. A trio of young girls were playing hopscotch on a chalk-drawn sidewalk, right in her path.

  This is too convenient to be coincidence.

  “Hey,” she said as she approached the girls. “Can I buy that chalk from you?”

  The girls looked at her like she was nuts.

  “You can just go to the store and get some, you know,” the one closest replied.

  “I know, but I’m kind of in a rush. Tell you what, I’ll give you a dollar for it.”

  “Well…”

  “Okay, how about five?”

  “Five?” the girl asked, shocked.

  Moments later, Dorothy was on her way, chalk in pocket and book in hand. Less than five minutes later, she was back in the apartment, anxiously pacing the living room.

  Okay, it’s still early. I have time to start, but where?

  She scanned every room, looking for an inconspicuous nook to begin her runes again. There wasn’t one. Distracted, she nearly tripped over the edge of Randy’s area rug that had bunched up ever-so slightly.

  A light bulb went on in her head.

  Carefully, she moved the chair and coffee table to the side and rolled the rug back. Plenty of space for what she had in mind, and entirely out of sight.

  A feeling of calm embraced her as she sat on the floor and opened the book. It was going to be all right. All sh
e had to do was recreate what she’d already done before.

  Only, there was a problem.

  Wait a minute, this isn’t right. This chapter is all different, and half of the runes from this section aren’t even listed.

  She quickly flipped to the imprint page and scanned the tiny text.

  There it was, printed plain as day in black-and-white. While the book title was technically the same, the edition was new. New and revised.

  It’s not all there, she lamented. I’ll have to fill in the blanks from memory. If I even can. Frustrated, she sat staring at the space she’d cleared on the wood floor until, finally, she made a decision. If the watch doesn’t pan out, this is the only option I’ve got. I have to at least try.

  Slowly, she began the lengthy task of re-drawing her rune circle.

  When Randy walked in the door later that evening, bags of Chinese takeout in his arms, Dorothy greeted him with a kiss. His rug, and everything on it, were all back in place, nothing amiss.

  “Sorry! We ran late,” he said apologetically. “I figured you’d probably be pretty hungry by now, so I went ahead and picked us up a few things.”

  “Mmm. It smells good. I’ll get us some plates,” Dorothy offered.

  The two sat down for a relaxing dinner, and Randy happily proceeded to fill her in on the events of his day.

  “How about you?” he asked between bites of chow mein. “You do anything fun?”

  “Nope,” she answered without hesitation, her eyes darting briefly to the area rug. “It was a pretty uneventful day.”

  CHAPTER 28

  “Hey, sleepyhead,” Randy called through the bedroom door. “Come on, get up. We’re going on an adventure today!”

  Dorothy stirred and stretched out on the cozy bed. The clock said 8:30 a.m.

  She could smell a pot of coffee brewing in the other room. Not the diner’s rocket fuel blend, but something smoother, with a rich aroma. Randy didn’t make coffee at home often, but when he did, he preferred the good stuff.

  Mmm, that smells wonderful, she thought as she wrapped herself in his robe and walked to the kitchen. But what’s this about an adventure?

  “Hey, you,” she said, flashing a sexy grin.

  He turned from his food prep and took in the sight of her with a hungry smile.

  “There she is,” he said with a smile. “You want some coffee?”

  “Sure,” she replied.

  “Cream?”

  “You know how I like my coffee,” she said with a smile.

  “Of course, what was I thinking? You like your coffee like you like your magic. No cream for you, then,” he laughed. Dating a girl who thought she was Death certainly had its moments.

  “Ha-ha, very funny,” she said with a chuckle while Randy added a liberal amount of cream and sugar to her coffee. “So, what’s this adventure of which you speak?” Dorothy asked as he handed her the steaming mug. Like a welcome, floating spirit, the divine aroma of caffeinated happiness wafted to her nose, gently elevating her consciousness.

  “Urban picnic,” he said cheerfully. “I’m packing a basket, and then we’re going to go wherever you wish. Just pick a bus line and off we go.” He dumped a handful of bus tokens on the counter. “Fate is our guide, adventure our goal.”

  “You’re a madman,” she chuckled. “Has anyone ever told you that?”

  “Maybe once or twice, but coming from you, I’ll take it as a compliment.”

  She laughed, a bright and cheerful sound Randy was quite fond of.

  “Baby, you’re the peanut butter to my jelly,” he said, leaning in and kissing her neck.

  “Um, thanks?” was her confused reply, not exactly sure how she should react.

  He raised an amused eyebrow.

  “Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches,” he explained. “You take one part or the other and you’ve got nothing special, but put them together and it’s magic!”

  “When I was a boy,” he continued, “my mom wasn’t always around. Both of my folks had to work. It was tough making ends meet, so they really didn’t have a choice. Anyway, I was on my own a lot, but every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, my mom would pack me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with the crusts cut off. Man, I loved PB&J as a kid.” He smiled at the memory, almost getting misty-eyed. “That’s how I knew she cared, even if she wasn’t always there. And cutting off the crusts? Now that’s love.”

  Dorothy leaned in and kissed him sweetly.

  “That’s a beautiful story,” she said, letting a little laugh slip out. “But I’m wondering, do I have to be the peanut butter, or can I be the jelly?”

  “Baby, you can be whatever you want,” he replied, then drew her into his arms for a warm kiss. “Okay, now get dressed. I’m gonna grab a quick shower, and then we’ve got an adventure to get underway!”

  He stripped as he walked, excited for their outing. Moments later, Dorothy heard the water running.

  Now’s a good time, she decided.

  Quickly and quietly, Dorothy padded across the bedroom and picked up Randy’s old pocket watch. The fine metal lines inlaid in the blue enamel seemed familiar, but random at the same time. She opened it and examined the glass face.

  Nothing.

  She then held it to her forehead, pressing the cool enamel into her skin, trying to sense something, anything that might explain her situation.

  Again, nothing.

  There has to be something to this watch.

  She had an idea. Very quietly, she whispered the incantation she’d learned from her book. The old book, not the new one.

  “Eeanay Sudominey Vorghalisi Nictu,” she intoned.

  Wait, was that something? She scanned the air around her.

  “Eeanay Sudominey Vorghalisi Nictu,” she said again, focusing her mind on the watch in her hands. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought, for just a second, that maybe there was something. A tug beneath the skin of reality, but she couldn’t be sure. Dorothy concentrated harder and said the words once more.

  “Hey, babe. You say something?” Randy called from the bathroom. The water had stopped running.

  Quickly, Dorothy put the watch back in its place.

  “No, I didn’t say anything,” she called back. “Just getting ready.”

  The couple enjoyed the nice weather as they leisurely walked a few blocks to a bus stop. Randy’s picnic basket, Dorothy learned, wasn’t actually a basket, but rather, a well-organized backpack with Tupperware containers neatly stacked. There were also bottles of water and a pair of single-serving wine cups. He slung the bag over his shoulder as they boarded the random bus Dorothy had selected, setting off on their impromptu adventure.

  “I wonder where we’ll wind up,” she pondered as they took their seats.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Randy chimed in. “I’m sure we’ll have a ball.”

  The doors closed, and they rolled on their way.

  When they stepped off the bus a little while later, Dorothy felt the area looked somewhat familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it.

  Why do I know this place? she thought as she scanned the building façades, not recognizing anything.

  Randy took her hand in his, snapping her out of her daydream. They headed off down the street, taking in the sights as they discovered more of the nooks and crannies of the city in which they lived.

  A few blocks later, Dorothy and Randy found themselves at a busy intersection.

  I swear, this looks familiar.

  “Come on, we can totally make it!” Randy said, taking her hand and bolting across on a flashing Don’t Walk signal.

  He was right, but only just.

  They barely made it before the light changed, laughing as they laced their fingers together and continued on their way, oblivious to the one spectator watching their progress with rapt fascination.

  Madame Bavmorda had just arrived at her storefront when something caught her attention. She stopped and turned, doing a double take at a young woman running across the st
reet toward her.

  “No, it can’t be,” she muttered to herself as she squinted her eyes, trying to get a better look at the familiar-looking girl. She watched Dorothy and Randy grow closer as they strolled and was suddenly sure she wasn’t mistaken.

  The crazy girl she’d kicked out of her shop a few months earlier seemed to have gotten her shit together.

  As they passed, Dorothy noticed the woman staring right at her and glanced at the store’s façade. A light bulb of recognition illuminated in her head.

  Dorothy flashed her an amused little grin and a wink as she and Randy passed.

  “Well, good for her,” Madame Bavmorda said with a little laugh and an approving nod, then stepped into her shop, the neon “Open” sign flickering to life moments later.

  It was in their fourth week together that the inevitable finally occurred. The loving couple had their first fight.

  Exhausted and a bit irritable after dealing with a particularly difficult client, Randy came home early from work to find Dorothy sitting on his living room floor, rug pulled back, covering the old oak boards with chalk designs.

  “Jesus! What the fuck are you doing to my floor?” he yelled.

  Dorothy nearly jumped out of her skin.

  “Shit! Randy, you’re home early.”

  “Ya think?” he growled as he surveyed the sprawling design. “What the fuck, Dorothy? I’m out busting my ass working and you’re sitting at home messing up my floors? My kid doesn’t even do that anymore.”

  She quickly tried to put his mind at ease.

  “It’s only chalk, Randy. It’ll clean up. I just needed a big enough space to work on. It’s not permanent, I promise. See? It’ll wipe up when I’m done.”

  He was pacing. Angry. Trying to keep his temper, but only just managing.

  “It’s not about the mess,” he began. “Well, it’s that, but also, you don’t have any aspiration. You stay home all the time. You haven’t even once talked about looking for work. I mean, I’m glad you’re here, but this…” He struggled to find the right words. “Look, you know this has to be a home my folks are comfortable with if they’re going to let Sam move back in, and I don’t know how they’ll take it if I suddenly have a live-in girlfriend who doesn’t even have a job.”