Asylum

by Amy Cross

  "The procedure was a success," Dr. Sospiri says.

  I take a deep breath. There's a part of me that wants to go over and punch the life out of him, but I know that would be a mistake. All I can do is hope that, in the moment before she died, Julia understood what I told her about her son's name.

  "He'll be pleased," Dr. Campbell says quietly.

  I look up at him, and see that he's staring over at the observation window. I glance across the room. The window is dark, as if there's no-one in the observation room. Slowly, however, I realize that there's someone in there after all. Sitting without a light on, there's the faint outline of a figure. It can only be one person: Dr. Rudolf Langheim. He must have been there all this time, watching us. I feel a shiver run through my body as I look back over at Julia. What the hell are we doing, carrying out experiments on behalf of a monster?

  Detective Thompson

  Today

  "How many?" Nurse Winter asks, staring out the window of her office as rain pours down from the stormy sky. Her voice sounds strangely blank and calm; outside, the rain is getting louder.

  "Six," I say. "All in the one room, propped against the wall. So with the one that was found earlier, that makes seven."

  There's silence for a moment. "Do you think there might be more?" she asks eventually.

  "It's possible," I reply. "Given the size of the basement, there's definitely a chance. I'm going to have to order a complete search of the building. Basement, attic, everything. Every corner of every room. Whatever's been going on here, I have to get to the bottom of it."

  "I see," she says. She turns to me. "Were all the bodies in the same condition as the first one?"

  I nod. "I can't even begin to guess what the hell's been happening in your basement," I say. "When it was just one body, I was leaning toward the theory that it was some kind of freak accident. But now that there are seven of them, it's clearly something else. This has to be considered a murder inquiry from now on."

  "Of course," she agrees. "I'm just shocked that there could be so many of these... things... down in our basement that we knew nothing about."

  "Each of those 'things' was a person," I remind her, "with a name, a life, a history. They all came from somewhere."

  "And they all ended up dead in our basement," Nurse Winter replies. "Somehow."

  "Exactly," I say, eying her carefully. There's something about Nurse Winter that's starting to worry me. Before, I thought she was just calm and unflappable, but now I'm starting to look closer and see that there's something else behind her eyes. She just seems to accept that the bodies were there, and her expressions of shock and surprise seem calculated and fake. "Whatever happened," I continue, "I need to get to the bottom of it, and I'm afraid the entire basement is off-limits until further notice. I'm gonna have a team scrape the place forensically. If there's so much as a fucking shred of DNA down there to match these bodies to someone else, I'm gonna find it."

  She walks over to her desk. "I assume you've called for back-up?" I ask. "There'll be other police officers arriving shortly?"

  "Some of the roads are down because of the storm," I say, "so they might not get here until tomorrow. Lakehurst is pretty isolated right now. I've locked the basement and I'm going to need your help to make sure that no-one gets down there and causes a disturbance. The integrity of the scene must be preserved at all costs. Also, no-one leaves the building and no-one enters, not without permission. I guess that's unlikely anyway, given the weather."

  "Of course," Nurse Winter says. "Please, just let me know what I can do to help. I want you to know that you have my full and unequivocal support in getting to the bottom of this matter."

  "I guess I'll need a room," I say. "Just somewhere to sleep for the night. Doesn't have to be fancy."

  "That won't be a problem," she replies. "I..." She pauses. "I'm sorry, Detective Thompson, you must think this hospital is the most awful place. You must wonder what kind of people we are, that we could have something like this happen right under our noses without even realizing."

  I shift in my seat. "I'd like to reassure you that at the moment, I'm treating this very much as a cold case," I say. "Those bodies have been there for some time, almost certainly since before any of the current staff arrived at Lakehurst. It's the previous regimes that I'm more interested in speaking to. I'll need for you to find contact details for all former staff. Whatever happened in that basement, the condition of the bodies makes it absolutely clear that it happened a long, long time ago."

  "Still," Nurse Winter says, "we should have found them before now. I should have ordered a full search of the basement. It's intolerable that such an order wasn't given before."

  "Don't blame yourself," I say.

  She smiles, but it's a false, sad smile. "Thank you," she says.

  "What about the attic?" I ask. "Are there any more spaces like the basement that haven't been checked recently?"

  She shakes her head. "Fortunately, no. The attic is converted into short-stay residential spaces."

  "Well, at least that's something," I say. "No more nasty surprises, hopefully."

  "Hopefully," she says. "Do you mind if I ask, have you heard back from your specialists about the first body that was found? Have they determined how long that poor woman had been down there?"

  "Not yet," I say, just as a flash of lightning lights up the gray evening sky. "The last I heard, they were having trouble with the autopsy. Maybe these new bodies'll help." There's a distant rumble of thunder. "Nurse Winter, would you be willing to come down to the basement to see the bodies?"

  "Me?" she says, looking alarmed. "Why?"

  "It might jog your memory," I reply. "You might remember something about what's been going on down there. Perhaps you saw something one time, a person who shouldn't have been there. I'll be honest, I'm finding it difficult to believe that so many people could have died in the basement of this building without someone realizing something was happening. At the very least, I think we're talking about a long-term cover-up. Either your predecessors were involved, or they were complacent and negligent in maintaining proper control over the hospital and its environs."

  Nurse Winter nods. "It's getting late," she says. "Perhaps I should show you to your room, and we can go to the basement in the morning?"

  She leads me out of her office and through to another part of the building. It's quite clear that Nurse Winter is lost in her own thoughts. She seems to be deeply affected by the discovery of these additional bodies, though the exact nature of her response is a little more difficult to determine. As we walk away from the wards and through to a more isolated wing of the building, I feel as if I should ask her some more questions, but at the same time it seems she doesn't want to talk. I don't want to pressure her too much, not right now. Eventually we step into an elevator and go up to the top level of the hospital, where Nurse Winter shows me to a small door at the far end of a dusty corridor.

  "Do you think I could ever be involved in something like this?" she asks suddenly.

  I pause, surprised by the way she phrased the question. "You're not currently a suspect," I say, choosing my words carefully, "although obviously we're only at the beginning of our investigation."

  "I know," she replies, her voice filled with urgency, "but based on your intuition, and your gut feelings, do you think that I could be involved?"

  I stare at her for a moment, trying to work out what, exactly, she's asking. It's like she wants me to assess her character and personality in general, rather than comment specifically on this case. "No," I say eventually. "Like I said, you're not currently a suspect, and I'd be very surprised if that were to change." I pause, realizing that perhaps this conversation is a little inappropriate. "I'm sure this will all be resolved soon," I say, trying to comfort her a little. "Your main job will be to put in place the changes that ensure nothing like this can ever happen again."

  "Thank you," she says, smiling, and it seems as if she's genuinely happy with
my reply. "I'll arrange for someone to bring some food up from the kitchen." She opens the door, which creaks loudly. "I'm sorry to have to put you in here," she continues, "but I'm afraid we don't have many spare rooms."

  "That's fine," I say, glancing into the room. "I'll just -" I pause, suddenly realizing why she's apologizing. The room appears to be some kind of old nursery. I take a step inside and see that while there's a clean-looking bed by the window, there are half a dozen empty cribs around the room.

  "We haven't used this room for years," she explains. "I hope it's okay for you?"

  "Of course," I say, not wanting to let her realize that I'm slightly creeped out by the cribs. "If you don't mind me asking," I continue, turning to face her, "why does a psychiatric hospital need a nursery?"

  "It doesn't," she says, stepping past me and into the room. "Not now, anyway." She walks over to the bed, leans down and dusts it off with her hand. "I'd open a window," she says, "but with the weather... As I said, this is the only room we have available, but it's warm and dry." She smiles as the walls creak under the pressure of the storm that rages outside.

  "It's fine," I say. "Really, it's..." I glance at one of the cribs. "It's fine."

  "Unfortunately, they're bolted to the floor," she says, "otherwise I'd have had them removed a long time ago." She walks over to the window and looks out. "The weather's really getting worse by the second. I hope it clears up overnight."

  "I'm sure it will," I say.

  "Oh look," she says, "you can see my window from here."

  I walk over and join her at the window. There's another wing of the building visible, but to be honest the stormy weather makes it hard to see very much at all. It's almost night now, and there's rain pouring down the window.

  "I hope you'll be able to sleep," Nurse Winter says. "If you have any problems at all, please don't hesitate to contact me."

  "I'm sure I'll be absolutely fine," I reply.

  Without saying another word, she turns and leaves. Since I hadn't expected to be stranded at Lakehurst overnight, I didn't bring any spare clothes or even anything to read, but on the way to the room we passed a bookcase in the corridor so I head back that way and, sure enough, I find some dusty old books. Unfortunately, they all seem to be war novels, so I grab one and head back to my room. A little while later, there's a knock at the door and Nurse Perry brings me a tray of food. We talk for a few minutes before she leaves, and I eat what turns out to be a surprisingly good meal. Finally checking my watch, I see that it's close to 10pm. The storm is showing no sign of stopping, and the book's not really my kind of thing so I find myself with nothing to do except go to bed.

  Once I'm undressed, I walk over to switch off the light. I turn and glance at the empty cribs, and it occurs to me for a moment that I could sleep with the light on tonight. Dismissing that idea as superstition, I flick the switch and make my way in darkness over to the bed. As I settle for the night, the storm continues to blow rain against the window, and there's the occasional rumble of thunder. It's hard to sleep, especially given the rather scratchy bed-sheet, and I find myself staring up at the ceiling, thinking about Nurse Winter and her reaction to everything that's been happening. Eventually I get up from the bed and head over to the window, looking out and seeing a light on in one of the windows of the adjacent wing of the hospital.

  After a moment, Nurse Winter appears in the window. She's looking down at something, and she hasn't noticed me; even if she did look this way, I doubt she'd see me, since my room is dark. Wearing a dressing gown, she looks preoccupied and completely, utterly beautiful. It's hard to take my eyes off her. As I stand and stare, she suddenly slips the gown off to reveal her bare breasts. They're larger than I'd guessed from the shape of her uniform. It's hard not to imagine what it'd be like to hold her in my arms. It's not love, of course; it's pure lust, but there's nothing wrong with a little lust now and then. I reach down and touch my penis, which is getting harder by the second. I -

  Suddenly something touches my shoulder. I spin around to find a dark shape standing right next to me. For a moment, I'm filled with a sense of panic, but then the figure steps even closer and I realize, with shock, that it's Nurse Winter. She's wearing nothing but a pair of white briefs, and she smiles as she puts her arms around my shoulders. I glance back over at her window, but there's no sign of her now. How the hell did she get over to my room so fast? I turn back to her as she pushes her bare breasts against my chest, presses her crotch against my erect penis, and starts to kiss me. It's a passionate but desperate kiss.

  "How did you get over here?" I ask, breaking from the kiss for a moment.

  She smiles. "Is that really your most pressing question right now?" she says, reaching down and brushing the fingers of her left hand against my erection. "Come to bed," she says, holding my penis in her hand and leading me towards the bed. "I think we have some business to attend to."

  "Listen -" I start to say.

  "Call me Kirsten," she replies as I touch the side of her left breast.

  I reach out to pull down her briefs, but she pushes my hand away. "What's the hurry?" she asks, smiling. Dropping onto her knees, she takes my penis in her mouth. I take a deep breath as I feel her tongue running along the shaft, but finally I can't hold back any longer and I haul her up and throw her down onto the bed, climbing on top of her and slipping her briefs off to reveal her fully nude body. I reach down to touch between her legs and I find that she's already wet, so I slide myself inside her and start to kiss her neck.

  "You wanted me as soon as you saw me," she whispers as we start making love. "I could feel it. It was in your eyes." She reaches down and puts her hands on my ass, encouraging me to thrust harder and harder into her as she wraps her legs tightly around my body.

  It doesn't take long for me to finish. As soon as I'm done, she smiles and kisses the side of my neck.

  "Was that good for you?" she asks.

  "I'm not normally quite so quick," I reply. "We didn't use any protection."

  "Don't worry about that," she says, smiling.

  Climbing off her, I look across the room, hoping that there might be a towel I can use to wipe myself clean.

  "I'm sorry," I say as I turn to face her, "you didn't get a chance to -" Suddenly I realize she's not there. I look around the room and find that I'm completely alone. I definitely would have heard the door if she'd left the room, so it seems as if she slipped out as quickly and as silently as she arrived. I race over to the window and look out just in time to see the light going off in her room. There's a -

  Behind me, a baby starts to cry.

  I turn and the crying stops. I can see that there's nothing there, just the empty cribs. My heart pounding, I grab my handgun from the table and hold it up as I double-check that there's no-one else in the room. Each of the cribs is dark and empty, and the corners of the room contain nothing but shadows. Finally satisfied that I'm alone, I turn toward the door but, in doing so, I bump into a crib, jolting it across the room.

  "Bolted to the floor, huh?" I say, checking and finding that all the cribs are loose. I guess I've caught Nurse Winter out in a little white lie.

  I head to the other side of the room, open the door and look out into the corridor. There's no-one there, but I'm still not comfortable. There's no way I completely imagined making love to that woman, but I don't get how she managed to slip in and out of the room so quickly and so quietly. The only thing that makes sense is that somehow I blacked out for a moment, but that seems too convenient and unlikely.

  "Scott!" calls out a voice. I turn and see Nurse Winter standing at the other end of the corridor, completely naked. She smiles. "This way," she says, before turning and disappearing around a corner.

  "Hey!" I call out, but it's clear that she's not going to wait for me. I hurry along the corridor, naked and hoping that no-one happens to come across me. Fortunately, I get the feeling that this part of the building is more or less abandoned.

  "This way!" Nurse Wi
nter calls out, beckoning me toward some stairs. I run after her and find that at the top of the stairs there's a small door. I knock cautiously. "Kirsten?" I ask. "You in there?"

  Silence.

  I try the handle and find that the door's unlocked. Pushing it open, I take a step into the room before stopping as I realize what I'm seeing. Sitting on the other side of the room, there's an old man in a wheelchair. The room is lined with bookcases, filled with old books, and on the wall there's a small metal swastika.

  "Welcome to Lakehurst," says Nurse Winter, stepping up behind me and shutting the door. "This is Dr. Rudolf Langheim. I think he has some answers for you."

  Nurse Winter

  1999

  Just before lunchtime, I slip away from the ward and hurry across the hospital grounds until I reach the small garden where we bury patients who have no family. As expected, there's a workman just finishing with the digging of a grave. Nearby, Julia's body is on the ground, wrapped in a white sheet. There's no-one else here. No-one has come to observe this moment, to mark Julia's passing. Dr. Campbell, Dr. Sospiri, Rudolf Langheim... they're all somewhere else, getting on with the planning of their next experiment rather than pausing to remember the poor woman whose death was the result of their first attempt. I understand why they've made that choice: after all, no-one wants to be reminded about the way Julia died. But not coming to her funeral would be inexcusable. I feel I owe her that much, especially since no-one else is going to bother.

  Not that it's really a funeral, of course. There's no service, no mentioned of her name. There isn't even a headstone. This isn't holy ground, and there's no priest. The hospital was formerly assigned to the role of Julia's legal guardian some time ago, and the directors have chosen to have her body disposed of in this way. There's no family to invite, no friends. It's just a matter of getting rid of her body. I can't imagine how many other patients have been buried here over the years. There are no headstones at all; each body is given a brief entry in a log book, but other than that, there's no other memorial. There are raspberry bushes growing at the edge of the garden, though, and their fruit is always particularly large and juicy. The patients eat the berries happily, never suspecting why the bushes grow so well.