Asylum

by Amy Cross

  "Ready?" Andrew asks.

  Eddie smiles. "Ready."

  I don't say anything.

  Andrew presses the button. The computers make a few beeping noises, and suddenly Rolf opens his eyes wide and stares straight ahead.

  "What are you doing to him?" I ask.

  Andrew reaches out and grabs my arm, as if he's worried that I might rush forward and try to help Rolf. "Nothing yet," he says. "The system's still starting up. It takes about half a minute."

  "The fun part hasn't started yet," says Eddie, grinning.

  "Shut up," Andrew says to him. "This isn't a game."

  I watch as Rolf grips the arms of the chair. He looks incredibly tense, and from somewhere in the room there's the sound of some kind of machine starting to hum louder and louder. My first instinct is to turn and run, because it sounds almost as if there's going to be an explosion.

  "Ten," says Andrew. "We're at ten."

  "What does that mean?" I ask.

  "You'll see," he replies, tightening his grip on my arm.

  Rolf's eyes are staring straight at us, and his mouth is hanging open.

  "Five," Andrew continues. "Approaching commencement."

  "He's in pain," I say.

  "Not yet," Andrew says. "Just wait. Please. I know how it looks, but just wait. You'll see. I'm not a madman. You'll understand in a moment." He looks down at the computer. "Two," he says. "One."

  There's a huge, blinding flash ahead of us, engulfing Eddie and quickly growing to consume the entire room. I turn away, but it's no use and everything around me is pure brilliant white. The air is starting to buzz and hum. It's as if we're standing directly in the blast of some kind of huge engine, with pure energy surrounding us. My arm, which Andrew is still holding tight, is starting to tingle, and the energy seems to be making my entire body vibrate. What's worse is that everything's getting stronger: the bright light is getting brighter, the buzz is getting louder, and it feels as if the entire basement is filled with the most intense, concentrated form of energy. I turn to look back at Rolf, but I can't see a thing except pure bright white all around us. I don't understand what's happening, but I think something might have gone terribly wrong. As the energy seems to build, I put my hands over my ears and close my eyes tight shut, but it doesn't work; it's as if all of us in the room are being consumed by the white light. Finally, somewhere beyond the hum, I realize there's another noise: a kind of rhythmic buzz, like radio static.

  Dr. Lava

  Today

  My room is quiet and still and dark, except for a small pool of light that glares from a bedside lamp. It's close to midnight and I've been sitting here since dinner, reading and biding my time. I should have gone to sleep a couple of hours ago, but I'm determined to stay up and see what I can find out about Nurse Winter's 'special treatment'. Errol claimed that it usually happens during the night, so I figure I just need to keep out of the way for a while and then head down to the basement. Hopefully, I can catch Nurse Winter in the act and find out exactly what's going on. As the new head of this facility, I have a right to know everything that takes place here, and I'm damn well not going to give her the satisfaction of asking for information. I'm going to take what I want.

  Just after midnight, as I'm thinking about getting ready to head back down to the ward, there's a sudden and unexpected knock on my door. For a moment, it occurs to me that perhaps I shouldn't answer, but then I decide that it would be suspicious if someone found that I was out of my room. I go to the door, open it and find a pretty young nurse standing outside.

  "Can I help you?" I ask, a little surprised by this development.

  "Dr. Lava?" she asks, clearly nervous.

  "Yes," I say. "I was going to introduce myself properly to the staff tomorrow."

  "I want to show you something," she says. She glances over her shoulder, as if she's worried that she might be being followed. "Something important," she continues.

  "Can't it wait until the morning?" I ask.

  She shakes her head. "It only happens at night." She stares at me, her eyes wild with fear. "Please, I need you to come and see it now, before it's too late. I've taken a huge risk by coming to you."

  "Okay," I say, grabbing my jacket, checking I have my keys, and pulling the door shut as I head out into the corridor. "I'm sorry," I continue, "I didn't catch your name."

  "Hazel Perry," she says. "I'm a nurse here. I know it's unusual to come and knock on your door like this, but I have to show you what's going on. If I just try to tell you about it, you'll never believe me."

  "That's fine," I say as we walk along the corridor, heading for the stairs. "If there's something on your mind, Ms. Perry, I very much want to know what it is."

  "There are bad things happening at Lakehurst," she continues, "and they need to be stopped. Dr. Campbell didn't care, but you have to do something. It's wrong. People are suffering."

  We head down to the ground floor and make our way along to the ward. As we're walking, the lights momentarily flicker off and on again, as if something is draining power from the building.

  "This wouldn't have anything to do with Nurse Winter, would it?" I ask.

  Nurse Perry stops and turns to me. "You know about the special treatment?" she whispers.

  "No," I say, keeping my voice down. "I've heard about it, but I don't know what it is. I was hoping to find out for myself."

  "It's horrible," she continues. "You have to stop it. I would have done something, but I know my limitations. There's no way I can stand up to her. Nurse Winter would destroy me, but you might have a chance."

  "I need to see it for myself," I say. "You have to take me there."

  She leads me through to the main ward. It's mostly deserted now, with the patients all in bed through in the next wing. There are a few nurses and guards on duty overnight, but they're at the individual nurses' stations, so the main part of the building is left empty. The arrangement probably suits Nurse Winter and her accomplices, since it allows them to get on with their work without anyone noticing, although the occasional flickering of the lights is a clue that something strange is happening somewhere in the building.

  "Here," Ms. Perry says, leading me to a door at the end of one of the corridors. "The steps down to the basement are through here. You can't take the elevator, or they'd hear you. It's vital that you get down there without them knowing."

  "You have to come with me," I say.

  "No," she replies. "I can't."

  "For God's sake," I hiss back at her, "what are you so scared of? What do you think this woman's going to do to you if she finds you've been talking to me? She's not going to kill you!" There's a pause as Ms. Perry stares at me. "You think she'd kill you?" I say, finding it hard to believe that anyone could take such an idea seriously.

  "You don't know what she's like," Nurse Perry says, almost shaking with fear.

  "She's not a monster!" I reply. "She's just a woman!"

  "Nobody crosses her!" she says. "There are stories about things that have happened. People who get in her way tend to have accidents. She's smart. She gets you on her side, or she decides you're against her and... Things happen around here. Doctors. Other nurses. Patients. Everyone knows. They're all scared of her."

  "Fine," I say. "I'll go alone." Although Ms. Perry's warnings are convincing, I feel that I must find out what's really happening. I must see it with my own eyes. Nurse Winter has obviously ruled this place for quite some time, controlling everyone through fear, but her days are numbered. Now that I'm in charge, Nurse Winter's reign of terror is going to come to an end. This place isn't big enough for both of us, and that can only mean one thing.

  "Be careful," Ms. Perry says as I open the door and step into the dark stairwell. I pull the door shut and stand in the darkness for a moment. There's no sound coming from below, but the basement of a place like this must be huge. Carefully, I reach out and find the handrail, and slowly I start walking down the steps, being extra careful not to misjudge whe
re I step. Even the slightest mistake could send me tumbling to the bottom, and not only would I risk injury, but there'd also be a danger of my arrival being heard. If I'm to succeed here, I need to be discreet. It might even be the case that I'll have to observe quietly and then withdraw without interfering. After all, Nurse Winter is clearly a formidable adversary, and I might have to take a little time to decide how to deal with her.

  When I reach the bottom of the stairs, it's not immediately obvious which way I should go. It's still pitch black, and I can't afford to use any kind of illumination because I have to be stealthy. I feel my way along a wall and into what seems to be a separate room. Squinting, I try to make out some kind of shape ahead of me, but there's nothing. This place really is the darkest place imaginable, and there's not a hint of light or sound anywhere to guide me.

  As I keep making my way carefully through the basement, it occurs to me that perhaps Nurse Winter isn't down here tonight. Perhaps 'special treatment' doesn't take place every night, in which case the best I can hope for is to find some equipment that might give me a clue. Eventually, though, I start to see a hint of light up ahead, and I come to a room that is partly illuminated by a single bulb hanging from the ceiling. There's nothing in here, but it would seem that I'm starting to find my way to a part of the basement that's in use.

  Stepping into the next room, it takes me a moment to realize that there's something sitting on the floor by the door. I pause, instantly fearing that I've given myself away, but then I notice that the man looks utterly despondent. Wearing a white lab coat, he's sitting with his head in his hands. After a moment, he looks up at me, and there's a haunting quality to his tired eyes, as well as what seems to be a small but deep cut on his forehead. A trickle of blood is running slowly down his face.

  "She's ruined everything," he says quietly.

  "Who are you?" I ask, keeping my voice down.

  He stares at me for a moment. "I should never have shown her," he continues. "It's all my fault. I created something beautiful, and then I let it fall into the hands of a monster."

  "You're talking about Kirsten Winter?" I ask.

  "I never meant for any of this to happen," he says, with tears in his eyes.

  "Any of what to happen?" I ask. "What's going on down here?"

  "Go and see for yourself," he says. "I can't put it into words. You have to see it for yourself." He points toward the other side of the room, to where there's a door that leads out into an adjoining part of the basement that seems to be better lit.

  "Stay here," I say. "I'll need to talk to you after I've taken a look, okay?"

  He doesn't reply. He just puts his head back down, as if he's given up entirely.

  "What's your name?" I ask, but there's no reply. He seems to have withdrawn into his own private agony. I lean closer and see the name tag on his lapel: Dr. Andrew Wylde. "I'll be back soon," I say, turning and heading over to the door. When I look back one more time, the man has gone. I glance around, wondering how he managed to leave without making a sound, and for the first time since I arrived at Lakehurst, I start to feel a little spooked. Obviously I know that ghosts aren't real, but a place like this has the capacity to play upon primitive fears. I need to keep that kind of reaction to a minimum.

  "It's getting late," says a voice off in the distance. A male voice, which I recognize as belonging to one of the guards.

  I freeze, realizing that I'm getting close to the room where the 'special treatment' takes place. I need to be particularly careful now, because the last thing I want is for them to know that I'm down here. It's vital that I observe from a safe distance, so that I can decide how to proceed once I'm armed with the necessary knowledge. Nurse Winter is an interesting woman and the biggest mistake right now would be to under-estimate her. So long as I'm careful, though, I have no doubt that I can get the better of her. I just need to remember that this is a marathon, rather than a sprint. I've got plenty of time left to deal with this particular problem.

  I step forward carefully, making sure that I don't make a sound. I can hear a strange humming sound coming from the next room, as if some kind of machine is running. I can also hear hushed voices as people talk, but from here it's hard to make out what they're saying. Stepping through the next room, I finally come to the doorway that overlooks Nurse Winter's work. I can hear her voice now, speaking calmly about the night's work. Carefully peering around the door-frame, I see that she's sitting at a row of computers, while one of the guards is adjusting wires on some kind of chair in the middle of the room. There's no-one else around, so I guess that either they've finished for the night or they haven't got started yet.

  Suddenly Nurse Winter looks up. I dart back, but I'm certain she looked directly into my eyes. I've no idea how she knew I was here, but she knew. There's something about that woman's eyes that unsettles me a great deal: she has a stare of pure evil.

  Nurse Winter

  1999.

  I fumble around in the dark, trying to find the light switch.

  "Here," says Andrew, reaching past me and turning on the light.

  It's 3am and we're standing in the hallway of my little apartment in the eastern wing of the hospital. I've only been here for a day, and already I feel as if Lakehurst is my entire life. I miss my family and friends, but I know that I can't admit that to anyone. I simply have to get on with things.

  "You're not saying much," Andrew says, standing in the doorway while I drop my bag on the bed. The apartment only has two rooms: a sitting room with a bed in the corner, and a small bathroom. Even with the light on, the room feels small and dark. There's no sound anywhere: this far out in the eastern wing, we're far away from the ward, and the only other people in this part of the building are other doctors and nurses sleeping in their own rooms.

  "I..." I start to say, but then I realize that I still haven't quite processed my thoughts yet. Everything still feels so strange. "Are you sure he's going to be okay?" I ask eventually.

  "Rolf? Yeah, he'll be fine. That was his third round of special treatment. He's used to it. I increased the exposure time, but it's still within safe limits." He pauses, watching as I open a window to let some air into the stuffy little room. "You worry about the patients, don't you?"

  "Of course," I say, finding it a little creepy that he's still just standing there. I don't like being watched. "Don't you?"

  "I don't know," he says. "When I'm with a patient, I worry about him or her. But other times, they're just an abstract group. It's like ants. You might like ants, but you don't form an emotional attachment with specific individual ants, and you'd be willing to sacrifice a few of them in order to save the nest."

  "This isn't a nest," I say, "it's a hospital." I check my watch. "It's late. I have to get undressed for bed now."

  "Do you want me to leave?" he asks.

  "It's the usual thing to do," I say. Is this really happening? After all the scandals that surrounded me at college, and I really being seduced by a senior doctor on my first day at Lakehurst? This is exactly the kind of thing I wanted to get away from when I came here, the kind of thing that made me glad to be at such a remote place. Now I can't help but wonder if Andrew phoned up my old college and found out what really happened back there. Perhaps that's why he seems to think he'll be able to get me into bed so easily.

  "Is this how you live your life?" he asks. "Do you only do -"

  "What have they told you?" I snap at him. For the first time since I arrived at Lakehurst, I feel the old anger return to my body. I've spent six months changing my personality, forcing myself to become more clinical and more professional, and now this bastard is tempting me to revert to my old ways.

  "They?" he asks. He seems surprised by my outburst, and also a little amused. "No-one's told me anything about you. I just thought that perhaps we had a little connection."

  I stare at him for a moment. "I want to be alone," I say.

  "I understand," he replies. He reaches out and flicks the light switch
, plunging the room back into complete darkness, and moments later I hear the door shut.

  Standing in silence, I finally relax. This place is far more complicated than I'd expected. I hoped to come here, spend a few years keeping my head down, practice my new personality, and then maybe go back out into the world. That's all I wanted. No drama. No fuss. What is it about me that seems to attract chaos? Why is it that other people seem to be able to float through life with nothing interesting happening to them, yet all around me there's strangeness and intrigue? My mother, God bless her soul, lived an extremely boring and uneventful life until her final years. Why can't I be the same? I've changed, so why can't I just -

  There's a noise close by in the room.

  I pause, listening out, and suddenly I realize I'm not alone.

  "Andrew?" I say.

  Silence.

  I turn. It's still too dark to see anything, but I can tell that someone's here. I can't explain it, but I can feel the closeness of another body.

  "Andrew?" I say again.

  "Sorry," he replies, making me step back. "I should have left."

  "You have to go," I say. "Now."

  "I need to know something first. Are you going to come back and help me with the special treatment again some time?"

  "No," I say. "I want no part of it."

  "You haven't let me explain it properly. You've seen it, but you need to know how it works."

  "No," I say again. "You promised that if I came down once, and if I told you I wanted no further part of it, that you'd respect my decision. Well... that's my decision, so please just leave me alone."

  There's a pause. "Okay," he says, sounding disappointed.

  "I think we should stick to a professional relationship," I continue. "I won't mention what happened tonight to Dr. Campbell, but I'd appreciate it if you'd just treat me as a normal colleague."

  "Okay," he says, and how his voice sounds rather blank.

  "You can be assured of my discretion," I add, "and I don't want to get in the way of your work. I just feel that my work should be with the patients in a more conventional manner. I hope you understand." I wait for him to reply, but he doesn't say anything. Instead, I feel his breath on the side of my neck. "If you don't mind," I say eventually, "I really need to get some sleep. I have to be on duty again in five hours."