Bedlam Stories

by Christine Converse

  Henry tugged at her hand to pull her into the living area and in front of the fireplace. A set of various pipes lined the mantel, cleaned and ready, and next to them was a leather pouch. Stools and soft cushions surrounded the fireplace — this must be where the cottage’s inhabitants gather after dinner to warm themselves before the fire. Henry flopped down on one of the large cushions and fell backward to grin at the candle-lined chandelier that hung above them. His mother sat down next to him and pulled a small basket toward her. It was filled with shiny red apples.

  “What is that, mama?”

  “There’s a note. Perhaps they left it for us?” She picked up a piece of paper from inside the basket and read its contents aloud, “A gift for the fairest of them all.” She plucked an apple from the top of the pile and polished it on her skirt.

  “Who’s it from, mama?” Henry picked up the piece of paper and puzzled at the sweeping, black calligraphy.

  “I would think it was left here for you and me!” She smiled and touched her fingertip to his nose. She bit into the apple’s crisp red skin.

  “But mama, what if it —“ the boy began.

  His mother’s face suddenly drained of all color; her eyes widened. The apple rolled out of her hand onto the floor before him and Henry could see that, where the apple’s interior should have been a creamy white, instead it was black. When he reached out to touch it, the apple bubbled, hissed, and melted away before his eyes.

  “Mama!” he cried out, scrambling to her.

  She gaped at him, shaking her head and grasping at her throat, unable to draw breath. He put his fingers against her face and his fingertips into her mouth, trying to find the piece of apple.

  She pulled him close, held him still in her arms, and closed her eyes.

  “MAMA! MAMA!” he cried, tears spilling, trying to pull away to help her somehow. Her body went limp and she fell to the cushions. He put his small hands on her shoulders and shook her, trying to sit her up again. Her face looked strangely peaceful through his blurry, tear-filled eyes. He knelt next to her and wiped his vision clear with his sleeve.

  She was still alive. Henry’s mouth fell open and he reached out, with shaking fingertips, to touch her face. It was warm. Her cheeks and lips were still red.

  In a bright, white flash, Henry was, once again, home in his mother’s arms in the rocking chair.

  “Mama!” he sat up and grasped her shoulders. The small, gold hand mirror clunked to the rug.

  Her head rested against the rocking chair back as she dozed, her chest rising and falling with the shallow breaths of deep sleep.

  No matter how hard he shook her, pled with her, or touched her face, she would not open her eyes.

  “Mama …” Dr. Braun murmured into his arm on the white blanket. The sound of his own voice startled him awake. He lifted his head and rubbed at his bleary eyes. His surroundings came into focus. The darkness in the white room meant it was still the middle of the night. He slid open the drawer of the nightstand and pulled out the small, gold hand mirror. Taking his mother’s hand again, he looked into the mirror.

  There was the glass coffin on the dais in the middle of the forest, just as it had been for decades. Inside of it lay his mother — her raven hair, her red-rose cheeks — asleep for all eternity. Standing solemnly next to the glass coffin was the same small, gray-haired man who had built it. His small hat hung from his hands as he stood near the head of the dais, his head hung in reverence.

  Dr. Braun murmured the same words of frustration he had repeated time and time again to the mirror, for years on end. “If only I could just communicate with you, I know you could help her … .”

  He let go of his mother’s hand, and the image in the mirror vanished. He slid it back into the drawer.

  “There’s hope, Mama,” he whispered. “I’m going to go and try again now.”

  Before he would step outside to lock the door to which only he and Nurse Ball had keys, he kissed the sleeping woman’s forehead, his lips grazing the small round dime-sized scar in the middle.

  Nellie fell back into the chair behind Dr. Braun’s desk, stunned. Alice had caused the burnt, peeling paint in the Fantasyland wing. Alice had gone insane because Dr. Braun wanted to find a way to see into Wonderland, perhaps even to control it or to enter it somehow. And Alice had been locked in the vault for … how long?

  The date on the final entry of the chart was 1912.

  Ten years. Alice had been locked away in the vault for ten years. None of this made sense; Nellie glanced up to the chalkboard and scanned the formulas and scribbles for something that might. Her hand jumped to her mouth.

  The faint chalk remnants left the ghost of the word “Alice” on the blackboard. Over it in white chalk, two words had been written in a strong hand:

  PROJECT: DOROTHY

  The door to the Saturation Chamber swung open, and Dr. Braun, propelled by new energy and determination, ushered Dorothy over the threshold. A nearby orderly flipped the power switches, readying the machine.

  “Is it going to hurt?” The sleepy girl rubbed at her eyes and flumped onto the chamber’s seat.

  “This is the last part of the treatment, Dorothy.” Dr. Braun smiled, patted her shoulder, and shut the chamber door. Dorothy sat straight up and peered out at him through the small porthole. Now that a door was involved in locking her into something, alarm was setting in.

  “It won’t hurt at all,” he replied, through the glass. “It’s like the pictures on the screen. You just have to concentrate on them.”

  “What kind of pictures?”

  “All the good memories of your Aunt Em and Uncle Henry.”

  Dorothy nodded and retreated warily back into the machine.

  With a hum, the apparatus came to life, and Dr. Braun slipped a pair of goggles over his eyes.

  Nellie had long since left behind any notion of covering her tracks. Drawers hung open, files were everywhere, and papers lay strewn about as if a hurricane had blown through Dr. Braun’s office.

  “Come on … where is it?” She rifled frantically through his desk drawers. Upon tearing open the bottom drawer of his desk, she found it — the file marked “BLY” in bold, red lettering.

  She ripped the file open and looked to the stacked medical notes on the left. Her eyes filled with tears. Stamped in bold, green lettering on the most recent note was the confirmation she needed, yet still could not comprehend: pregnant. Her trembling hand went reflexively to her abdomen and she closed her eyes, listening and feeling for any sign of the tiny being named Rose.

  The door to the office was swung open by the hand of an orderly who, in patrolling the halls, had noticed that the door hung ajar.

  “HEY!” he yelled, pulling out his whistle.

  Within moments, the sounds of whistles repeated up and down the halls of Bedlam, triggering the alarm. Nellie had nowhere to run.

  CHAPTER 22

  The walls of the Saturation Chamber had only just begun to spin around Dorothy when the sound of the alarm issued through the halls, causing cries of distress from worried inmates in their cells.

  Nervous from the sudden alarm, the orderly asked, “What’s going on, Dr. Braun?”

  He pulled the goggles off his eyes and stuck his head out into the hall. “I’m not sure. Wait here.”

  He took a step through the threshold, but the orderly grabbed his arm. “But what should I do?”

  “Nothing. It’ll be another ten minutes before the machine needs to be powered down.”

  A team of nurses and orderlies ran past the door, and Dr. Braun quickly followed.

  The way out of the doctor’s office was already being guarded by an orderly by the time that Dr. Braun and Nurse Ball came racing down the hall, from opposite directions. The doctor pushed his way through and into the office to find a wild-eyed Nellie scanning the room for an escape route.

  “What are you doing in here?!” he shouted, red-faced. He spied the files in her hand and pointed a shaking finger,
“Give those back RIGHT NOW!”

  Nellie’s eyes narrowed. She dropped the files and grabbed the edge of the rolling chalkboard that contained Dr. Braun’s scribbled research.

  “Don’t you dare …” he spoke through gritted teeth, glaring at her from beneath furrowed eyebrows.

  With all her strength, Nellie shoved the chalkboard, hurling it across the room. The orderly and the doctor braced for impact and, in that split second of distraction, Nellie darted around the outskirts of their reach and through the door. Nurse Ball flattened against the wall to avoid collision with Nellie, who turned the corner of the threshold and sprinted down the hall.

  “Why didn’t you stop her?” Dr. Braun shouted.

  “But doctor, “she began, hands outstretched.

  “Don’t you test me, Ms. Ball!” He jabbed a finger in the air toward her. He spun around to the orderly and added, “Activate the lockdown, now!” He strode back into the room and swept a clanking black mass of keys from the floor. Holding the key ring out before him, he jingled the keys at the head nurse, his eyebrows aloft.

  “I … must have dropped them.” Nurse Ball cast her eyes down to the floor, her cheeks flushing.

  “Is that why you let Nellie escape, too?”

  She did not return his gaze, but stood with her hands folded.

  “After today, you’re fired!” he yelled, rage coursing through him. He hurled her key ring at the wall with such force that it dented the wall next to her head before clanging to the floor.

  Inside the chamber, the walls spun round and round Dorothy, flooding her senses with a series of blinking images. Photographs of her uncle and aunt flashed before her: the two of them holding hands in front of the farmhouse, Aunt Em standing on the steps with a flower in her hair, Uncle Henry throwing a mound of hay to the top of a haystack with his pitchfork. The images spun faster and faster, beginning to blur together until Aunt Em stood in front of Uncle Henry with a flower in her hair, holding his hand, and a pitchfork lying at their feet.

  Dorothy watched, slack-jawed, as the images moved. Aunt Em was no longer a still photograph; she let Uncle Henry’s hand drop from hers and turned to face Dorothy. Uncle Henry in turn stooped to pick up the pitchfork and hold it, upright, next to him. Their eyes shone with white light.

  “Welcome home, Dorothy,” said Uncle Henry.

  “Now we can finally be happy.” Aunt Em smiled and looked to her husband.

  Dorothy remained absolutely still, hypnotized by the images that filled her imagination.

  The orderly fidgeted, glancing toward the door — still no sign of Dr. Braun. He leaned over to peek through the window of the chamber door. He gasped.

  The girl’s face was now bathed in an unnatural blue light whose source was not any of the doctor’s machinery. It seemed to be emanating from the girl herself — from her eyes.

  The alarm’s incessant, shrill wail rent the night air in, and all around, Bedlam Island, as Nellie continued at breakneck speed through the halls to the entrance. She could see the tall doors just ahead, and the probability of escape propelled her aching limbs forward.

  But, as she came skidding to a halt and reached for the doorknob, a massive iron plate dropped down over the door.

  BAM!

  Nellie’s head swam and her stomach turned as she watched iron plates drop, one by one, over every window, door and portal in the asylum.

  BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!

  Every possible escape route had just been sealed off.

  “No …”

  BAM!

  The sound of the last iron plate landing in place echoed through the halls and left, in its wake, an eerie and resounding silence.

  She turned back around, dumbstruck. But a movement in the looking glass caught her attention, instantly replacing her despair with a cold rush of dread.

  In the mirror’s reflection stood Alice, her singular, terrifying form only partially visible within the shadows that gave her strength. She raised a mottled arm and pointed in the direction of the basement door.

  Nellie shook her head and stumbled backward.

  Alice’s yellow eyes gleamed in the shadows. “Yes, Nellie. Release me, and I will return Rose.”

  “Nellie!”

  The sound of Dr. Braun’s voice coming toward her pulled her attention from the mirror to the hall from which she had just come minutes before. The doctor ran toward her, his lab coat flying out behind him, just steps ahead of several orderlies.

  “Stay away from me,” she said, with an edge in her voice, her body tensed for attack.

  “It’s no use, Nellie. This whole place is on lockdown.” Even as the words were spoken, the doctor cautiously put one foot in front of the other to close the distance between them.

  She glanced into the mirror. Everything seemed to be back to normal.

  She looked back to the doctor and the orderlies edging closer. They froze.

  Nellie shook her head and waved her finger admonishingly, back and forth.

  “There’s nowhere to go.” He took another step toward her.

  She returned his gaze and tilted her head with a disapproving sigh. “That’s what you think.”

  In an instant, she turned and bolted for the basement door.

  CHAPTER 23

  Nellie had no time to turn and gauge the distance to the men who were following fast on her heels. She leapt down the stairs, plunging pell-mell into the darkness of the corridor below. If there was a bright side to her predicament, it would be that her familiarity with this corridor was well beyond that of her pursuers, who she could hear tripping and clattering after her in the shadows.

  Ahead, the light bulb at the end of the passage flickered. Contrary to each time she had previously witnessed it, this time its flickering filled her with hope.

  “STOP!” Dr. Braun roared. The orderlies skidded to a halt around him, forming a wall that Nellie would not be able to pass. “It’s over, Nellie. Come with us.”

  She grabbed the handle of the large wrench that kept the vault door sealed. “I’ll open it!” she threatened.

  Dr. Braun shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. Alice died years ago.”

  “You really think death is enough to stop something like Alice?”

  Dr. Braun felt the brunt of her disapproving expression and his face flushed with anger. He took a step toward her, fists curled at his sides.

  Nellie jerked the wrench. Bolts inside the door clacked with movement. Dr. Braun’s hand shot up, like a red flag, to signal that they cease their approach immediately.

  She prepared to put her full weight on the wrench handle, but waited for a moment. She locked eyes with the doctor.

  “You knew.”

  “Knew?” he repeated, the tone of his voice bordering on mocking.

  “You knew I was pregnant. All along, you knew.”

  “Nellie! Listen to me,” he blustered. “It’s not what you think!”

  “What is it then?”

  “We just want you to get better. You’re over reacting … that’s all.”

  “Then explain the baby! How is this possible?”

  “We will find answers, Nellie. Things are not always what they seem. But if you would trust me …” he held his hands out to her, imploring.

  Nellie’s grip on the wrench loosened. “Rose. The baby’s name is Rose.”

  He smiled. “That’s a beautiful name, Nellie. You need to get well for yourself, and for little Rose.”

  For just a moment, Dr. Braun and Nellie regarded one another with mutual understanding. Rose.

  “Mommy?”

  The sound of Rose’s timid voice coming from somewhere inside Alice’s room pulled Nellie instantly toward the vault door.

  “Where are you, Mommy? It’s dark in here. I can’t see you …”

  “I’m coming, baby,” she whispered, and pulled the wrench handle the rest of the way down. Dirt pattered down from the ceiling as the great vault door disengaged from its seal.

  “Stop!” Dr
. Braun cried out in horror. “What are you — ”

  The walls and floor began to tremble. The orderlies looked to one another for explanation, and then glanced all around the foreign basement. They did not know whether to assist in subduing the runaway inmate or to run from the corridor posthaste.

  The vault door swung open with a groan, and the tunnel filled with a blast of blinding white light that sent shock waves flowing through the corridor. The doctor, the orderlies, and Nellie cried out in pain as they were thrown to the ground.

  And then … darkness.

  CHAPTER 24

  The door to the Saturation Chamber hung open on a single hinge. The orderly lay on the floor, dazed, while the hazy smoke that filled the room lingered in the air above him.

  The Saturation Chamber was empty and silent as a tomb. Dorothy was gone.

  The dark corridor was deathly quiet, the vault door now wide open. Dr. Braun, Nellie, and the orderlies lay scattered and stunned on the musty dirt floor.

  One by one, the orderlies began to stir.

  “What happened?” An orderly pulled himself up into sitting position and held his aching head. Dr. Braun followed suit first getting onto his hands and knees.

  Nellie’s fingers twitched. She moaned and let her head fall to the side, pain surging from the spot that had so recently impacted the tiled floor. Her eyelids fluttered as she struggled to open them. Her surroundings, albeit blurrily, started to reveal themselves.

  Small, dirty bare feet stepped swiftly past her head.

  Nellie forced herself upright as the orderlies’ cries of terror filled the corridor. Dr. Braun ran, just ahead of them, toward the stairs at the end of the hall.

  Her vision swam into focus in time to see the terror that staggered after them. Years of confinement had transformed the girl. Gray skin stretched over Alice’s skeletal frame; bones bulged and jutted with each halting step.