The door to the small room opened again, and this time it was a masked technician in a less bulky head-to-toe uniform. He pulled the second stool over, next to Nellie and sat down to take her arm.
“What now?” she pulled her arm out of his grasp.
“We need blood.” He pulled her arm back toward him with the tolerance of someone who had lived this scenario of resistance a hundred times over.
“Why?”
The hypodermic needle pierced her arm and filled with crimson.
“Protocol.”
The needle withdrew in silence. The gray floor gained color as it met with spatters of Nellie’s blood. The technician pressed on the needle-stick site for a few moments, to stop the blood, and then left with his vials. The lock in the door engaged once more.
Shadows moved behind the opaque plastic window in the iron wall. Ah, this must be an observation window. They can see me but I cannot see them.
“Enjoying the view?” she called toward the faceless observers. She dragged a stool to the opposite wall, to sit in the little patch of sunlight provided by the miniscule window. Plopping down on the stool, she folded her sore arms, leaned against the wall, and closed her eyes. Damned if she would give them a show of any sort.
It was hard to tell how much time had passed. When Nellie opened her eyes again, the patch of sunlight she had moved to was nowhere to be seen. It must have been the sound of the door being opened that woke her. One of the stools had been removed, and Nurse Ball now entered the small room, holding a tray that held a paper cup. She extended the tray to Nellie.
“What is this for?”
“Something to help you sleep. You have a big day tomorrow.”
“What happens tomorrow?” Nellie sat up.
“Dr. Braun starts your treatment. You’ll be well before you know it.”
“Treatment?” Nellie was aghast. “He hasn’t even given me a proper evaluation yet!”
The calm demeanor with which Nurse Ball typically addressed the inmates was shaken only when authority was questioned. She had an uncanny ability to change from commanding to imposing with very little effort.
“You’ll do well not to argue.”
Nellie felt that the “with me” was very much implied as Nurse Ball stared fixedly down at her from her lofty height. Nellie picked up the little, paper cup and tipped its contents quickly back into her mouth.
“See?” she forced a smile and showed Nurse Ball the empty cup. “All gone.”
“Let me see under your tongue.” Nurse Ball put her hand gently under Nellie’s chin and lifted her face up.
Damn.
Nellie quickly slid the pills out from under her tongue and swallowed, and then allowed Nurse Ball to verify that the medication had been ingested. Satisfied, Nurse Ball turned on her heel, snatched up the stool, and moved purposefully to the door.
“Wait ….” Nellie called out and stopped her as she opened the heavy door. “Are patients allowed to have any writing materials? Something? Anything?”
Nurse Ball’s face softened. “I can bring crayons and a piece of paper later. You can use it to do something constructive. Creativity is always encouraged. G’night.”
The heavy door shut with a clank. The lock engaged with what was becoming a familiar “snick”.
As Nurse Ball’s footsteps moved off into the distance, Nellie fell to the floor and stuck her fingers down her throat. She retched up the white pills, now partially dissolved. The liquid mixture of bile and drug trailed toward the drain in the middle of the floor.
Let it take its effect elsewhere.
They had only just begun to dissolve; perhaps she had gotten rid of them in time. She did her best to use her feet to smear the small puddle down the drain and remove the evidence. She was alone again, this time with only a rock-hard cot and a flat pillow. She collapsed onto the cot and pulled her knees up toward her chin.
“I could not sleep, so I lay in bed, picturing to myself the horrors that would ensue should a fire break out in the asylum. Every door is locked separately, and the windows are too small and too high making escape impossible. There are countless patients here. It is impossible to get out unless these doors are unlocked. A fire is not improbable, but one of the most likely occurrences. Should the building burn, the jailers or nurses would never think of releasing their crazy patients. This I can prove later when I come to tell of their cruel treatment of the poor things entrusted to their care. As I say, in case of fire, not a dozen women could escape. All would be left to roast to death. Even if the nurses were kind, which they are not, it would require more presence of mind than women of their class possess to risk the flames, and their own lives, while they unlocked the hundred doors for the insane prisoners. Unless there is a change, there will someday be a tale of horror never equaled.”
She would have to find a way to preserve these words with the paper and crayon that Nurse Ball had promised.
But what value should I place in promises made to the insane?
She glanced up again at the impossibly small window. Only then did the true horror of her situation strike Nellie.
No evaluation. Only medication. No communication. No one to be trusted. How will I ever leave this godforsaken place? My plan for redemption has become my undoing!
“Oh God!” she cried out to the darkness. Her hand flew to her mouth to stifle the hiccupping sounds of the hot tears that flowed into the pathetic excuse for a pillow beneath her.
The black key slipped into the keyhole and, with a quick turn, pushed the tumblers in place. The door opened quietly and Dr. Braun checked over his shoulder. He was alone. With that assurance, he slipped inside the door and locked it again from the inside.
He pressed the light switch and the white room was instantly bathed in dim yellowish light, revealing the older female patient on the gurney at the far end of the room. He strode to the bed and carefully inspected the IV drip.
Her silver hair pooled beneath her head. Her once white gown had yellowed with age. He lifted the arm where the needle had been inserted into a vein and was taped down firmly to her paper-thin skin. The skin itself was purple and mottled around the needle. Dr. Braun frowned.
“No signs of infection at least,” he said through gritted teeth.
He dropped her hand to the bed where it lay limp and unresponsive. He lifted her eyelids and checked each eye carefully.
“No dilation yet.” He scribbled his findings and stats on a clipboard which lay on the night table. “And still no change!” He threw the clipboard roughly to its resting place beside the bed.
Dr. Braun pulled a syringe from his coat pocket, uncapped it, and tapped the glass vial. With a small squeeze, he ejected a spurt of medication through the needle to remove any air bubbles and promptly injected it into the IV line.
“That should do the trick.”
He stood over the patient, frowning. Her treatment might need to become more aggressive soon. On that thought, he turned on his heel, shut out the light, unlocked the door, and checked the hallway.
Still no one there. He slipped silently back out, as he always did, locked the door, and patted the keys in his pocket as he went about his business.
CHAPTER 10
Rusted metal pipes creaked and groaned.
Nellie spun around. She must be dreaming again. The long corridor that lead off into darkness, the walls that dripped with orange and red rust…this had all happened before.
There on the floor were the scattered pages. Would the masked-rabbit appear again?
She picked up a few pages and examined them. These were different than before but were definitely drawn by the same hand.
Shadows In The Basement
This illustration was of a machine of some sort. In the corner of the page a machine sat, enveloped in vaporous clouds that extended outward to become veins and arteries. The veins and arteries, in turn, twisted outward and over a square of light in which figures were illuminated: a deformed, demonic creature wit
h catlike features; a terrified rabbit. Most curiously, the rabbit appeared to have a slightly transparent reflection in the square of light. Terrifying and demented faces appeared in each segment of the picture, causing Nellie to look more intently into each sweep of charcoal and every detailed smudge.
It wasn’t until she realized her head was aching that she blinked and looked down the corridor again. Further down the corridor she heard something creak.
Nellie took a step toward the sound, toward the darkness. Her movement was not without difficulty. She knew that she would not be able to leave this place until she ventured forth. Yet she also knew, with great certainty, that whatever awaited her at the end of the corridor would not be something she wanted to meet face to face. With each step she took, the darkness grew thicker. The walls dripped more. The air became thinner. With every step, her heart beat faster and her breathing became shallower. This was surely what it must be like to be in a tomb.
Something appeared in the darkness — a dim light at the end of the corridor. Seeing the light ahead, Nellie’s step lengthened and her pace increased. Finally, she reached the end of the corridor, and found herself standing before a large, steel, vaulted door. She hoped this would be the way out.
The silence was overwhelming. Nellie spun suddenly and looked into the stretching corridor behind her, but there was nothing.
She turned back to the ominous door and leaned forward. It was covered in layers of dirt and grime. This place had long been forgotten. Something caught her attention. She carefully wiped at what looked to be a stenciled letter. There was an “E.” She wiped harder, feeling for lines in the grit on the door. Now there was an “I.” Her fingertip turned black as she scrubbed harder and harder. A “C” appeared next to the “I.”
I C E
The bulb above her flickered. Nellie froze, her heart pounding in her chest. She slowly turned to look over her shoulder, and gasped. Darkness moved down the hall toward her, swallowing everything in its path. There was nowhere to run.
Nellie panicked, flattened against the dirty, cold metal door behind her. The darkness was approaching so quickly that she was sure it would swallow her in a few moments.
The dry, rasping voice screeched from somewhere just in front of her: “Did you really think you’d find truth here? You’ve been left behind to DIE! LIKE THE REST OF US!”
The shrill voice reached a fever pitch that rattled Nellie’s ears and sent ice pouring through her veins and electricity down her spine. From out of the darkness, a figure reached for Nellie and tore at the front of her dress, yanking her forward into the darkness. Nellie’s terror tore the scream from her throat; she couldn’t breathe … couldn’t breathe as the darkness enveloped her and she was swallowed by blackness, pulled downward by a supernatural force that she couldn’t escape.
Nellie sat bolt upright in bed, gasping for breath. She looked around — at the walls, the cot, the heavy door. The hint of orange in the tiny band of dark sky that was visible through the window told her it was almost sunrise. She was ineffably relieved to find herself in her room in the asylum.
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and hung her head. The terror slowly faded with each deep breath in and out. Nellie let her head hang limply and allowed her shoulders to droop. There. Calm. She opened her eyes.
Nellie cried out. Her hand shaking uncontrollably, she pulled her dress out before her. A dirty handprint stained the front of her dress. It was roughly the size of a child’s. She looked down to the floor to make sure she really had thrown up the medication. There was the faint streak of chalky matter leading to the drain. Yet there was a child’s handprint on her dress. Her own trembling palms were clean. She stared at them.
The door to the room swung open and a flash of light blinded her. “Nellie? Are you alright?” Nurse Ball swung her flashlight’s beam out of Nellie’s eyes and swept the room with it. Nellie squinted, unable to speak for a few moments.
“Just --— just a bad dream, I think.” She saw some crayons and a piece of paper on the floor next to the cot. “Thank you,” she added.
“Come on, Nellie. How very late it’s getting!” urged the nurse.
Nellie blinked. “I’m late?”
“Yes, you shall be late if we don’t leave now. It’s time to make introductions. Let’s go.”
CHAPTER 11
Dr. Braun’s blackboard did not have even a small square free of clutter. Every inch of its surface contained written notes, maps, charts or newspaper clippings. The most recent newspaper headlines screamed “COGNOME THEORY” and “SATURATION CHAMBERS, A CURE FOR THE MIND.”
Dr. Braun pulled the rolling blackboard forward and flipped it over to its other side. Here were his personal studies, the research he pursued in the wee hours of the night or behind a locked office door. This side of the blackboard featured a giant, detailed diagram of a brain. Next to this diagram hung the side and front identification photographs the court had taken of Nellie for her admittance paperwork. Dr. Braun returned to his desk and to the metal tray that held the carcass of his test subject, a white rabbit, splayed on its back. Forceps and hooks held the rabbit’s flesh open. The incision was an angry red slash defiling the otherwise pristine white coat of the small animal. He used a scalpel to probe into its flesh and expose an organ.
“Most interesting,” he murmured.
Nellie followed the inmates before her in a daze, a line of blank faces shuffling single file, step by step, out into the common room. Orderlies poked and prodded at the particularly sluggish patients to keep the line moving at an even pace.
“Get moving.” Nurse Ball nudged a meandering inmate along in the proper direction. Nellie realized, with a start, that she was passing in front of the ornate, gold mirror. She quickly averted her eyes. Whether it was the fact that the mirror was a key factor in her nightmares, or perhaps something more, did not matter. She just knew that she did not want to test those dark waters right now.
“Nellie!” Dorothy shimmied out of her own single file line, which was approaching from another hallway, and flitted over to slip into line just behind Nellie.
Dr. Braun tapped lightly on Nurse Ball’s arm. “Come with me.”
Nurse Ball followed Dr. Braun outside to a path that led around the edge of the grounds safely out of earshot of the patients and staff.
“Nurse, have you found anything on Miss Bly yet?”
Checking first to make sure no one was near them, Nurse Ball nodded, “Yes. It looks like she was just fired from her job as a reporter for The New York Tribune. It would seem that her investigations upset some people with influence and they demanded that she be removed from her position.”
“Investigations?” Dr. Braun looked up at her and adjusted his spectacles.
“She went in disguise to expose slave owners, sweat shops, child labor — you name it, she has done it. I would even venture a guess that we might be the target of her current investigation,” Nurse Ball sniffed.
Trying to get her job back then, is it?” The doctor stiffened. After a moment’s pause, he added, “I tested her urine sample on the rabbit. Dissection revealed changes to the rabbit’s reproductive system.”
Nurse Ball came to an alarmed halt. “She’s pregnant?”
He shushed her and glanced about.
“So there has to be a father. A man in her life.” Nurse Ball shook her head. “I found no records of her being married.”
“You and I know that there are plenty of children born outside the institution of marriage. But it is important to know if there is … well, who the father is.”
They began to walk again and, having nearly completed the circuit of the courtyard path, approached the entryway where staff and patients alike might overhear their private conversation.
“Follow normal hospital procedures with her until we find out more. Good day, nurse.” Dr. Braun nodded to a white-clad passerby. He pulled the staff door open and held it for Nurse Ball. “We have to be careful with this one,
” he said under his breath.
Nurse Ball nodded and stepped inside with Dr. Braun following. She stopped in front of the large, antique mirror. “I hate that mirror. Brings back bad memories,” she scowled.
“On the contrary, I would say that mirror saved us, don’t you think?” countered the doctor. They each took a moment to reflect on the mirror itself, lost in the ornate scrollwork, the nearly perfect glass surface. The nurse’s face softened, revealing signs of a neglected and buried pain, as the disturbing memories flooded back. Dr. Braun watched her extend her index finger toward the center of the glass, and followed her gaze to the mirror’s center. Only her troubled and lost expression, and his curious gaze, reflected back at them.
“Nurse Ball?” a female nurse called out. Nurse Ball visibly twitched, and quickly retracted her hand.
“Yes, Nurse Murphy?” she turned and disappeared down the hallway to find the staff member in need of assistance.
“David! Hello there!” Dr. Braun suddenly called out to a passing orderly, who stopped to greet the doctor. “You know what I could really use assistance with….” Dr. Braun’s voice trailed away as the two proceeded together down the opposite corridor.
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