by John Oakes
“Except we lied,” Winton said. “If I testified about what I saw in that clinic and who I saw, we could link Kerala and Jansen to the attacks by the zombies. Maybe Weischel and Plimpton could get warrants to turn that clinic inside out. Maybe they’d find the link to the pills.”
“But…”
“But the defense would turn my ass inside out looking to dispute my credibility. Might not be that hard with the things in my past. Also might unearth some skeletons that need to stay buried.”
“Well, we can’t have that.”
When their beers were finished, Julius offered to run inside for the next round, since he needed to use the bathroom anyhow.
Through the steady crashing of the waves, gentle creaks sounded on the stairs. Heather was gone. Julius was inside. Who could it be?
Winton wondered if it was some trick of the wind on the old structure.
Motion caught Winton’s eye at the top of the stairs, sandy hair flopping about in the wind, the head of Doctor Jansen appearing, then the rest of him stepping up onto the deck. He took a step toward the door, then froze, finally sighting Winton in the large deck chair.
Winton was already frozen and remained so, unflinching, staring at Doctor Jansen, waiting for him to make a move.
“Winton,” Doctor Jansen said.
Winton didn’t respond.
Doctor Jansen had his hands in his coat pockets, which didn’t seem out of place in the windy air, but did make Winton tense up, ready to pounce or dart away.
Doctor Jansen took a few steps forward and stood by the door. “It’s quite a breeze.”
“I like it,” Winton said, wishing he had some weapon to reach for.
The screen door opened behind Jansen, and Julius stepped out with a golf club. Without hesitating, he swung low across the back of Jansen’s thighs. It was enough of a stinging blow to send the doctor to his knees, arching his back and twisting in pain. It also brought his hands out of his pockets, which Julius patted down looking for a weapon.
“What was that for?” Jansen yelped after flopping onto his back.
“Who says I need a reason?” Julius stood over him with the club. Winton got up and walked over to them.
“I suppose you two have a reason to be suspicious,” Jansen said.
“Not just of anybody,” Winton said. “Suspicious of you and your partner.”
“He’s not my partner.” Jansen winced in pain. “But I see what you mean.”
“I know why you killed the dealer. Why did you try to kill me?”
“That’s the thing,” Jansen said. “I didn’t. That’s why I’m here.”
Julius nodded at Winton by way of asking his opinion.
“What do you have to say, then?” Julius asked Jansen.
Jansen sat up on his elbows. “I just heard what happened at the police station. It made me sick inside.”
“Then you know where the murderer came from?”
“Yes, of course. But I had no idea Doctor Kerala could or would release his patients to do harm.”
“He’s brainwashing them, isn’t he?”
Doctor Jansen composed his answer as he struggled to his knees. “He’s experimenting, yes.”
“Is he fucking with their brains or not?” Julius raised the 9-iron.
Jansen put his hands up defensively. “Yes. But it’s not so simple. He’s not fucking around if that’s what you mean. His work is no game. It’s no party trick.”
“You don’t have to tell us that.” Winton stepped closer. “What we’ve seen was all business. Serious business. And it’s gotten three people killed. Me too, almost.”
“I didn’t know about that,” Jansen said. “I didn’t realize what he’d done until the murder at the police station. I noticed one of the others was missing too, then I found the police statement about a man found dead here.” Jansen looked at the boarded-up front window. “I take it there was quite a mess.”
“Whatever Doctor Kerala brainwashed them to do, he was very good at it,” Winton said. “Why did he send one of his creatures to kill me?”
“I’m not sure. After the police came the other day, Kerala asked about you, my newest client. I guess he found the timing odd, looked into you and found you to be a threat for some reason.”
Winton didn’t answer. Too many thoughts competed for his attention. “I’m not sure why that would be.”
“Don’t play stupid,” Doctor Jansen said.
Julius raised the club.
“You know what I mean,” he yelped. “You came to see me after Beatrice’s death. Beatrice was friends with your cousin, Heather. Her death was personal to you.”
“So maybe I needed to check into you.”
“Why me? Why not doctor Kerala?”
“You talked to me first.”
“Well, Kerala took an interest. That’s all I can figure.”
“Why are you here?” Julius asked. “We ain’t in the mood for this.”
Doctor Jansen took a calming breath and spoke slower. “Because I think he’s going to kill me next.”
TWENTY-ONE
They sat at the dining room table, each one with a fresh beer. Winton wasn’t feeling too hospitable, but in vino veritas. And veritas had been in such short supply.
Winton puzzled over which questions to ask and why. He could ask Jansen to admit he’d been peddling party drugs, or that he’d done off-book and unethical medical testing at Maryvale. But why? For confirmation of what they already knew? Winton decided to keep the conversation as close to the current situation as possible.
“Why should we care if Doctor Kerala kills you?” Winton said.
“Your phrasing is uncharitable, but very well.” Jansen set his beer down. “If I go to the police, obviously, that’s not a road I wish to venture down.”
Julius gave a knowing “Mmm, hmm.”
“Let me start by saying that, at first, I doubted Doctor Kerala’s assertion that you were a threatening character.”
“Explain,” Winton said.
“Well, it didn’t take much work to find out your real name, Chevalier. And that your family has a particular profession.”
“Who’s the detective now?” Winton asked.
“Quite. But it was something else. You are an uncommon specimen, if you don’t mind the science jargon.”
“I’m a very special snowflake, yes.”
“But you are.” Jansen adjusted in his chair. “When I assumed you were seeing me for genuine care — I had my doubts too but nothing as sharp as Doctor Kerala — I found you remarkably intelligent and self-aware. Even-handed, open, not threatened by conflicting ideas.”
“Quit jerking him off,” Julius said. “Get to your point.”
“Patience, please.” Doctor Jansen’s earnestness seemed to suck the latent anger out of the room. “I’ve worked with patients suffering from all manner of disability and disorder and dependency. You bear the hallmarks of someone who has hit rock bottom harder than the Titanic, more than once, and has overcome it.”
Winton lifted his chin, waving his beer. “And I never even learned the Serenity Prayer.”
“That’s surprising.” Jansen sniffed. “And it’s not. Hmm. Yes. It does fit, now that I think about it.”
“What fits?” Julius said.
Jansen adjusted his posture again and took a drink. “I’ll sum it up by saying that the few humans who overcome what Winton has become pathologically empathetic. No matter how world-weary your friend appears, he cannot help but intervene when he sees injustice. This is why sponsors are so eager to help the drunks get sober. They are, by the transitive property, saving themselves all over again.”
“Who did I save?” Winton asked.
“I’m sure you’re telling yourself right now that you saved all of Galveston from their party fun.” Jansen examined his nails. “But the opposite may be true. Those who would have fun must go back to Molly and Ex. And those who would have abused our product will just find something else to abuse
.” Jansen eyed Winton curiously. “You of all people know that — unless we are talking about serious opioids — one is not addicted to a certain substance so much as one is fundamentally broken or starved and simply looking to survive, looking for a temporary fix.”
It rang true enough. It was rationalizing Jansen’s bad behavior, but at that moment it was clear that selling party drugs was not the most important issue of the day. Winton folded his hands in his lap. “So he tried to take me out because he thought I was a threat?”
“He said as much when I confronted him just now. I told him I wasn’t at all pleased with his actions.” Jansen shook his head. “I shouldn’t posture. No. To be frank, I yelled at him. I couldn’t believe how inhuman he’d become and how reckless.” Jansen took a drink. “But instead of showing remorse, he turned angry. Turned on me.”
“So he’s in charge now,” Julius said. “And he likes what he’s doing.”
“I cannot go to the police,” Jansen said, shifting his gaze to Winton. “And I don’t want to run, leaving my practice in a shambles. So I made a calculation about you, risking your ire which is still burning across the back of my legs.”
“What calculation?”
“That you would be compelled to help me, not because of who I am, but because of who you are.”
Winton held his beer in both hands against his chest, cast deep in thought. Jansen’s words rang true. Again. Of course, the man was buttering him up, using his way with words. But he spoke the truth about Winton, something deep and real there was no reason to deny. It was refreshing. It felt like a piece of firm ground he’d been searching for since Lucas’ kidnapping.
“I take it you see some mutually beneficial action,” Winton said. If there was a way to help split Jansen and Kerala, it could give Winton access to the hard evidence he sought.
“Removing Doctor Kerala from the picture,” Jansen said.
“Killing him?”
“I hope not,” Jansen said. “He’s high on power, but like many in power, he’s ultimately a coward, hiding behind these patients of his. I wish I’d seen it sooner, how big and strong they all were. Seems so obvious now what he was after, but we can be so blind to that which is closest to us.”
“So if we take out his zombies, he’s no threat.” Julius leaned an elbow on the table.
“What’s to stop him from doing it again somewhere else?” Winton asked. “Seems like he’s perfected it.”
“It’s troubling to think of, but how else can he be stopped?” Doctor Jansen asked. “I need help in confronting him. Maybe a false show of force, like a gun or something. Act like it’s a forced intervention, giving him the opportunity to turn himself in.”
“And then what. What if he doesn’t want to go?” Julius asked.
“By then, you two can have his patients in the back of a van, heading to a facility where they can be made comfortable. I have discreet colleagues who can accommodate them.”
“Can they get better?”
“Apologies if I’m not hugely sympathetic to the rabid dogs that might be coming for me any minute, but… Who’s to say?” Jansen motioned with his thumbs. “I doubt he pulled them off the street in the best of mental health to begin with.”
For Winton that left the question of if and how Doctor Jansen ought to pay for his abuses and crimes. He wanted to tell Jansen everything they knew about Maryvale, to put him on his heels, threaten him into good behavior and giving back to society. But something about that approach seemed inelegant, complicating a bridge that could be crossed later. He focused instead on the opportunity to get inside the clinic.
Winton turned to Julius. “Wanna get into a little trouble?”
Julius closed his eyes and bunched up his lips. “This is the part where you tell me I can go home, and you can do it alone.”
“Yeah,” Winton said.
Julius looked at Jansen.
“Do we need to discuss this in private?” Winton asked.
“Nah,” Julius said, staring at the doctor. “I reckon we should get those poor folks outta there.”
Doctor Jansen led the way into the clinic and down the long, quiet corridor that Winton had snuck into before. Winton heard voices coming from the recovery wing, muffled and far away, growing quieter as they made their way into the other wing. Jansen unlocked the door the janitor had left ajar, and they slipped through it into an unlit hall.
“I made a copy of Kerala’s key. This should work.” Jansen unlocked the door to the room where Winton had run into the man with the droopy eye. The entryway was dark, and some of the lights were off except for the ones at the other end of the room where a TV played. Winton could just make out the limbs or heads of three patients watching that TV seated on a sofa or a recliner.
Jansen flipped on the lights, illuminating the thirty by forty foot room, and removed a big syringe. “This is the antidote to grip, as it were.”
“Antidote?” Winton’s mind raced. “Wait…” He pointed to the catatonic patients.
“In small doses, the drug gives feelings of wellbeing related to assurance and safety.”
“The illusion of control.”
“Indeed. However, after prolonged periods of high dosage, the sense of total control causes disquiet. At first, this makes them highly subject to persuasion. After further exposure, subjects seek out opportunities for obedience, even to be controlled.”
Jansen uncapped the syringe and injected each patient with some of the antidote. He capped the needle, put it in his pocket and waited. After a minute or two, the three grew agitated, muttering and groaning.
“It’s all right, beloved. I am here. I am in control now.”
Jansen leaned in and whispered, “That’s how Kerala talks to them, like pets.” He raised his hands. “Beloved, stand up please, when you’re ready.”
“This is nuts,” Julius whispered to Winton.
Jansen stepped to an intercom by the door. “Dr. Kerala, could you report to the back wing, please. We have an issue.”
“Why are you bringing him in here?” Winton asked.
“Trust me,” Jansen said. “You need to see this.”
The first patient to stand was a black man who looked like he could have been a linebacker before his sedentary lifestyle. The other two stood, not as tall, but broad-shouldered with thick arms. Their bearded faces set with dead eyes were menacing.
“What are they going to do?” Winton asked.
“Whatever I tell them to,” Jansen said.
Doctor Kerala arrived in a rush, his white lab coat flowing behind him. He pushed open the door. “What is happening?” Kerala looked at Julius. “Who are these people? What are you doing in here?” He stepped closer to his patients, looking up at their faces and their growing animation. “What have you done?” Kerala turned on Jansen. “This meddling could undo—”
Bang.
The unmistakable report of a pistol shot echoed painfully around the room. Doctor Kerala staggered as a red stain spread across his chest. When he slumped to the floor, Winton saw Doctor Jansen clutching a gun in gloved hands.
Bang. Bang.
Doctor Kerala’s body jerked as two more bullets hit him in the torso.
“What did you do?” Julius put his hands to his head.
A wicked smile spread across Jansen’s face, as he backed to the door. “My beloved!” he cried to the advancing patients. “These two men killed Doctor Kerala. You must kill them in return. Kill them!”
Jansen tossed the pistol across the tile floor where it spun to a stop between Winton and Julius. “You’ll need that.” Jansen smiled again, then closed the door and locked it from the outside.
TWENTY-TWO
Winton stared at the pistol as it came to rest near his feet. It was short and small caliber, maybe .30 or less, but still had enough punch to put Doctor Kerala down on the first shot. “He killed Kerala,” Winton mumbled to himself.
“We don’t wanna kill these guys.” Julius looked down at the pistol.
“Do we?”
The looming presence of three manipulated mental patients drew Winton’s attention. “I’m not sure we have the choice,” Winton said. “That’s why he left us the gun.”
“So we’d have to kill them?”
“Yes, but no. Wait.” Winton shook his head. “He left it so our prints would be on the gun that killed him.” Winton pointed at the dead doctor on the ground.
The three big men were getting closer, shuffling in their sweatpants, robes and worn t-shirts.
The rectangular room had the TV at one end, activity spaces to either side and two two-way mirrors on the long wall. “Do you think Jansen is watching us right now?” Winton pointed at the mirrors.
“No idea.” Julius kicked the pistol toward a corner kitchenette, away from their soon to be assailants.
“I don’t wanna hurt these guys,” Winton said, talking fast. “But we barely took out one of them last time. How are we gonna fight three?”
“I guess we better take two out quick.”
Winton ran to the kitchenette. He wasn’t expecting to find a weapon, quite the opposite, but he had to know what he had to work with. There was an electric kettle, instant coffee, tea bags, sugar packets, salt and pepper packets, paper towels and some plastic spoons. Winton filled the kettle and set it to boiling then started tearing apart pepper packets, salt, and sugar dumping it all into a pile.
“They’re almost on us.”
“Pick one you can tangle with,” Winton said. “I’ll take the other two to start.”
“Fine,” Julius said. Then to the oncoming patients now only feet away, “I ain’t gonna be nice about this, fellas.”
Julius stepped away from Winton toward the door, putting his dukes up and drawing one man away. Julius lunged and popped a straight jab into his mouth. Once the big man regained his balance, he shoved Julius in the chest almost launching him in the air. Julius bounced off the wall, then picked up a small metal trash can and hurled it at the man’s face. It clanged off his head, stunning him. Julius scurried along the far wall looking for anything else he could hurl. He threw books at first, then a plastic chair, not doing much damage, but pulling the man away from the other two, toward the end of the room with the seating and the TV.
