Delirious

by Daniel Palmer

  Charlie began to think about what would happen if he was truly sick. With his mother in a coma and his brother incapable of help, what would he do? Who would take care of Monte? Randal, Charlie thought. If needed, he could call Randal.

  Gomes’s dead corpse came to him. Would I be putting Randal’s life in danger? Could I hurt him as well? Charlie couldn’t fathom the idea. It churned his stomach. If Charlie had a Dr. Jekyll living inside him, he remained elusive. That was the most frustrating thing of all. As much as he tried, Charlie could not recall any memory from the night Gomes was killed. Not a single one.

  More time passed. Dr. John had yet to return. Despite the sounds and commotion taking place behind the thin white sheet, Charlie assumed that no major traumas had delayed her. He began to wonder what was keeping her and was growing increasingly anxious at the prospect of waiting longer than she’d estimated. He looked down at his watch and checked the time. Nearly two hours had passed since he first set foot in the hospital.

  He thought about checking in with reception to see if Rachel had called. If she had, he might opt to leave. They could phone him with the lab results if necessary. Nothing about how he felt physically—no headaches, nausea, or other symptoms—made him concerned he might drop dead if he left.

  He was just about to rise from his stool when he saw a woman’s legs through a gap in the curtain. It wasn’t Dr. John, for this woman’s legs were white, not brown like the skin of an Indian woman. Charlie sat back down on his stool and waited for the woman to pull the curtain open. Her feet did not move. She just stood outside his examination area, her shoes pointing in toward him, as though she were about to step inside at any moment. Perhaps she’s just reviewing the results, Charlie thought.

  After what felt like an eternity, the woman turned away, her feet disappearing from sight. Charlie rose and pulled the curtain aside. He peered out into the busy foyer. From the PA system he heard Dr. Asha John’s name being paged.

  From the bustle of patients and staffers milling about, he could not identify who had been standing behind the curtain. A movement to his right caught his eye. He turned his head just in time to see a figure disappearing down the corridor that led out of the ER. The figure paused, as if choreographed. She turned and looked directly at him.

  He recognized her. She was real enough for his heart to beat madly in his chest.

  Anne Pedersen waved her fingers in the air, as if taunting him, and then, baring her teeth in a grin, she laughed. With a tilt of her head, a silent call for him to pursue her, she slipped behind the wall and disappeared around the corner. Charlie shouted her name and took off running.

  Chapter 25

  Rachel Evans had lost track of the hour. Three emergencies had come up between the time she’d hung up on Charlie and the twenty minutes she had allotted herself before phoning Mount Auburn for the promised follow-up. Three hours had passed by the time Rachel finally picked up the phone to call Mount Auburn. It was a forgivable lapse given that Mackenzie was far from harm’s way.

  Admissions patched Rachel through to the ER. An RN named Jessica answered the call. Rachel listened to the garbled sound of Dr. Asha John’s name being called out over the hospital PA.

  “Yes? This is Dr. Asha John. How may I help you?”

  “Dr. John, my name is Rachel Evans. I’m following up on a patient referral I sent to your hospital earlier this afternoon. Charlie Giles.”

  “Ah. You must be the friend who happens to be a mental health professional.”

  Their unofficial relationship meant added ambiguity when it came to discussing patient status. It might have complicated Rachel’s ability to assess Charlie’s threat level, were she not practiced at dealing with patients who gave only half-truths and misleading information. Dr. John needed to say very little for Rachel to know a lot.

  “I realize I have no official relationship with the patient. His brother is a patient of mine. I offered to refer Charlie to a psychiatrist from our office. But I wanted to first get a sense of his state of mind and your initial perceptions if possible.”

  “There are no outward signs of infection or any other ailment that would suggest the need for anything other than psychiatric care, if that’s what you’re looking for.”

  “Yes. It’s certainly a start. Did he seem agitated to you?”

  “Nervous is more like it. We are running blood work on him. Just to double-check for infection.”

  “Sure, that makes sense.”

  “I can give you a call when we have those results if you’d like.”

  “That would be helpful. In the meantime, I’ll put the word out to our staff to find some names for doctors he might be interested in working with. But again, he doesn’t seem overly agitated or potentially hostile to you?”

  “Not at all,” Dr. John said.

  Over the phone Rachel heard a scream. It followed the loud crash of a bunch of items hitting the floor.

  “Anne Pedersen! Anne Pedersen!”

  The cry was loud enough for Rachel to hear it clearly through the phone receiver. She knew the voice. Rachel listened as best she could as the commotion and chaos escalated. She heard somebody shout, “Charlie Giles in three. He’s running down the hall, yelling after somebody. He just knocked Jessica over! You have to get security on this right away.”

  Rachel started to say something, but just as she had done to Charlie hours earlier, Dr. Asha John hung up the phone without saying good-bye.

  Chapter 26

  Charlie Giles sprinted after Anne Pedersen. She was no more than fifteen to twenty feet ahead of him.

  Charlie turned the corner, but instead of gaining ground on Anne, he crashed into a nurse who carried a tray of supplies, sending them both falling to the floor. In the low-ceilinged corridor, the din from the clattering of instruments and her metal tray crashing onto the tiled floor echoed with the intensity of a car accident.

  Charlie stumbled to his feet. He scanned the long corridor that connected the ER to other parts of the hospital. The nurse he knocked over stayed on the floor and made no attempt to rise. She looked up at Charlie, expecting an apology and a hand up.

  “Anne Pedersen! Anne!” Charlie called. Charlie could see a fire door a third of the way down the corridor and ran toward it full sprint. He didn’t open it at first. Signs posted on the door warned of alarms sounding if it was opened. He looked out the window, cocking his head to both sides, and saw nothing.

  “He just knocked me over,” the nurse said as an orderly helped her to her feet.

  “You! You! Stop right there!” yelled the orderly.

  The orderly was easily six foot five, at least 220 pounds. He wore light green hospital scrubs and carried a Nextel mobile phone.

  “Did you see that woman?” Charlie screamed to the nurse, who was picking herself up off the floor. “Did you see her?”

  She didn’t say a word. Her knees were shaking as she got to her feet.

  “You stay right there,” the orderly said. He put the Nextel to his mouth. “Security! Security! Send a team to the ER right away.”

  “You don’t understand,” Charlie began. “That woman who was just here, she’s the key to everything.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, mister, but you better not try anything funny,” warned the orderly. “Just stay right there until security comes.”

  Charlie saw Dr. Asha John appear from around the corner. She entered the corridor through the ER, her eyes wide with concern. Charlie figured he had thirty feet between him and the orderly. It would be enough of a head start.

  “There was a woman. Please tell her that you saw a woman!” Charlie pointed toward the nurse he had knocked over, but she was gone. She must have slipped away when Dr. John entered the scene.

  “Just stay where you are,” the orderly said. “Security is on its way.”

  He pointed his Nextel mobile phone as though it were some sort of weapon. Past the orderly, down at the end of the corridor nearest the hospital ent
rance, Charlie saw two security guards approaching. They were armed. Both had hands on their belts, presumably readying to draw a real weapon. This time Charlie didn’t hesitate at all. He took off running.

  “Freeze!” one of the security guards shouted. “Get down on the floor with your hands behind your head!”

  Charlie turned but kept running. He was stunned at the ground they had already gained.

  Panic gripped him. Sprinting through a set of double doors, Charlie stumbled into a large industrial laundry facility. Large rolling bins piled high with towels and sheets were everywhere. Bags of laundry hung from heavy chains, attached to a matrix of ceiling-mounted guide tracks. Sounds from the loud washers and dryers bounced off the concrete walls and floors.

  He pushed one of the bins aside and jumped another with a hurdler’s stride. He reached the back of the room, flipped himself over another bin, this time tipping it over and spilling stained, filthy sheets and towels onto himself as he crashed hard into the floor. Charlie stayed buried under a mountain of fetid laundry. He began to gag and bit down hard on his tongue to keep the bile rising up his throat from spilling out.

  He was at least fifty feet from the entrance now. He was shielded from the security guards’ line of sight, low to the floor, with the pile of laundry on top and the felled bin in front. Unfortunately, that meant he couldn’t see them, either. His only cue that they were in the room was the shadow cast on the ceiling from the swinging double doors as they swayed open and shut.

  A minute passed before he heard them.

  “Do not move!” one of the security guards ordered. “Do you understand? We know you are in here. There is no exit from this room. Stay where you are!”

  They fell silent. Charlie’s heart raced in his chest with a rhythmic pounding that mirrored the tumbling sound of the dryers. Charlie stayed pressed low to the floor. He kept the laundry piled on top of him. There wasn’t much distance between him and the security guards now, he figured. If he stood to run while they were in front of him, he’d be an easy target. His only hope was to wait for them to pass and then try to slip out the door he’d come through.

  “We won’t hurt you. Stand and reveal yourself,” said one of the security guards.

  By the sound of their footsteps he knew they were flanking him and closing in fast. The guards kept shouting for him to stand up. Their voices echoed off the walls, making it difficult to discern just how close they were. Charlie’s eyes caught the reflection of movement in the glass on one of the washers. He could see at least one of them! As long as he stayed on that trajectory, he could watch his progress in the reflection of the washing-machine glass. He watched the distorted reflection come and go between washing machines. They kept calling his name.

  “Mr. Giles. We’re not going to hurt you. We are here to help you,” said one of the guards.

  Keep on coming, he thought. The guard in his line of sight was closing in fast, no more than ten feet from him now. His distorted image disappeared from the bubbled washing-machine glass. The next time Charlie saw it, the guard would be standing right on top of him. Charlie took in a breath, held it. Then he sprang.

  Grasping the underside of the laundry bin, Charlie leapt forward, using his momentum to force the empty bin knee level into the surprised security guard. The guard let out a cry as he went down, and Charlie thought he heard the electric buzz of a Taser gun.

  “I see him! I see him!” the other guard shouted. Charlie had the edge he needed to scamper out of the room. He’d make a quick exit through the fire door. After that, he didn’t have much of a plan. From his peripheral vision Charlie could see the guard he’d knocked over pushing the bin aside and getting back on his feet. The other guard kept shouting at him to freeze.

  “I’ve got him in my sight, Dave!” his partner called out. “I’m taking the shot.”

  Charlie sprinted down the corridor. He didn’t know the range of a Taser gun. He prayed it was less than thirty feet, because that was about the distance he had on the security guards. Racing down the hall, Charlie saw Dr. Asha John emerge from the ER and stand in the corridor, right between him and the fire exit door that was his escape. He looked past Dr. John and saw Anne Pedersen standing behind her, waving to him.

  “Turn around! Turn around!” Charlie screamed. “She’s right behind you! Turn around now!”

  Anne Pedersen kept waving to Charlie from the end of the corridor. Dr. John kept her eyes fixed on Charlie. Charlie took one glance behind him. The guards had closed in. They were no more than twenty feet behind. When he looked past Dr. John again, Anne Ped-ersen was gone.

  Charlie held up his hands. Dr. John did the same. But her intention was to stop the security guards from shooting Charlie in the back with a Taser.

  “She’s here! She’s here!” Charlie said, panting to catch his breath.

  “Yes, I’m sure she is.” Dr. Asha John took a step toward Charlie.

  “I can explain everything. Everything,” Charlie said. He was surprised at how hard it was to catch his breath. The adrenaline from the chase and seeing Anne Pedersen again made it nearly impossible to slow his heart rate down.

  Dr. John approached him. She kept her hands up, indicating to Charlie that she was unarmed. “You need to calm down, Charlie. It’s important that you calm down.”

  “I’m calm. I’m calm. I need to get that woman. I need to find Anne,” Charlie said.

  “Yes,” Dr. John said. “We’ll find her together. I just need to make sure you’re okay. May I do that?”

  Charlie felt his heart continue pounding in his chest. Anne Peder-sen was still in the hospital. He could wait a moment. Calm himself, then find her with the doctor’s help.

  “Yes,” Charlie said. “I’ll catch my breath. Then we’ll find her.”

  “Yes, catch your breath, Charlie. Then we’ll find her together.”

  The security guards stayed back as instructed. Crowds were now in the corridor, watching everything unfold. Dr. Asha John moved in next to Charlie. She kept her eyes fixed on his.

  “We have to go find her. She is the key to all of this,” Charlie said.

  “Of course she is.”

  Dr. Asha John moved with the speed of a mongoose making a kill. Charlie felt a sharp jab in his left leg.

  “What have you done to me?” Charlie shouted.

  “I’ve injected you with a sedative to help calm you down. If you try to run, they will shoot.”

  “You have to listen to me. There is a woman. She is here in the hospital. I have to find her.”

  The security guards moved closer. They held their weapons pointed at Charlie’s back. From the end of the corridor Charlie saw a woman’s figure emerge again. She was silhouetted by shadows from the light streaming into the corridor from two large bay windows nearest the emergency entrance.

  The drug hadn’t taken hold. He felt completely in control of his faculties. As she approached, he compared her figure to Anne Peder-sen’s—same long hair, willowy frame, familiar gait.

  “Behind you,” Charlie said to Dr. John in a near whisper. “Doctor, please turn around and look behind you. I’m trapped. There is no place for me to go. Look. That’s all I ask.”

  Dr. Asha John turned her head to look behind her. “Do you know who that is?” she asked.

  “It’s Anne Pedersen,” Charlie said, his voice shallow, his breathing still erratic. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

  The woman from the end of the corridor continued her approach. Her features came into focus.

  “It’s … it’s …” Charlie’s eyes widened as the realization set in.

  “It’s going to be all right, Charlie,” Rachel Evans said.

  Those were the last words Charlie heard before the corridor went dark.

  Chapter 27

  “Do you know where you are?”

  Charlie blinked his eyes, trying to focus on the person seated across from him. His vision stayed blurred; the only way Charlie knew she was a woman w
as by the tenor of her voice.

  “Do you know where you are?” the woman asked again.

  For the first time in what felt like days, but was probably no more than hours, Charlie tried to speak. His mouth was parched and his throat dry. His jaw felt tight, as though it had been wired shut. Charlie wanted to scream, to beg her for something to drink, but his thoughts were too cloudy and confused. All he could manage was to stare at her. Any signals his brain was sending to the rest of his body—speech, movement—were either cut off or delayed. Panic started to take hold. Could this condition be permanent? He shook his head from side to side but couldn’t clear the fog.

  “Are you okay?” she asked. “You may be feeling groggy from the drugs we gave you. It’s normal. There is nothing to worry about.”

  Charlie’s vision began to return. A filmy cloud shrouded the scattering of familiar objects in the room: a chair, a desk, and a lamp. To his left were three small hopper windows. Through them he could make out the top of an adjacent building. Wherever he was, he wasn’t on the ground floor. The warming colors of the setting sun contrasted with the starkness of the room’s fluorescent lights and their unforgiving glow cast off a white tile floor.

  Charlie tried to speak again. He could move his jaw this time but struggled with speech. At least he could move his mouth. That small victory was enough for him to let out a sigh of relief. The lethargy was beginning to subside. He hoped that his vision would soon return to normal.

  “Water. I need water.” Charlie croaked out the words.

  “Of course. Here you go. Drink slow,” said the woman.