His words made me feel like a billiards shot had just caromed off the insides of my brain.
So that’s where my boots are. I wonder what happened to my drawing pad and knapsack.
After a psychiatric counselor had hinted that I might be allowed to visit my parents’ house for Thanksgiving, I wondered how Brenda had escaped from the same hallways I was locked up in. So when, as if in answer, I overheard some orderlies commenting about the pleasures various female patients promised, I knew the Tweety monster had fucked her way to freedom.
Thanksgiving was almost a month away. I had to get out sooner.
I followed Nurse Pumpkin’s massive bulk into her office.
“What are you doing in here, Mister Parker?”
“I thought I’d like to use the phone again.”
“You still don’t have privileges.”
The cruelty of my plan buried itself beneath my need to escape. “Well, y’know, maybe you could try to stop me again, like before.”
Her head twitched slightly. Her eyes met mine with a glare. “The phone’s right there.”
I had to survive. I had to place my needs above hers, without hesitation or guilt. In the jungle, it had been no different—plan, act, maneuver, run.
“I thought maybe there was a more private phone I could use.”
She heard patients talk lunacy all day long. Pursing her lips, she considered if my request was a subtle sexual proposition, a dare to tangle with her again for the telephone, or some delusional nonsense to be ignored.
I put my hand on the phone. “You’re not stupid, and I’m not crazy.”
She tapped her pencil on the top of my hand. “I could take you easy. You’re scrawny.”
“I wrestled wild animals. Haven’t you heard?”
“Ha.”
“I’m sure I’d win.” I started shuffling my feet and jabbing my hands like a boxer. “I’d poke you until you yelled for surrender.”
“I think you need an increase in the dosage of your medications.”
“How about it? Crazy Kid Parker versus the Pumpkin Nurse Queen?”
“I’ve got work to do.” She smiled sourly and flipped open a folder on her desk.
As I left the room, I looked back at her. She appeared to be studying the page in front of her, but the hand that held the paper was twitching erratically.
Three days later, Nurse Pumpkin called me out of the day room.
“Mister Parker, if you could accompany me, please.”
“Okay, what for?”
“Just come along.”
My eye flicked to the key ring on her belt.
We went through a series of locked doors. The hallways were empty. Down a back stairwell, we paused as she veered from her composed role of being on official business and peeked around a corner on the ground floor. I heard voices and typewriters as we slipped past offices and through a utility room, then ducked by a sign that was stamped in block letters, Authorized Personnel. I almost burst out laughing at the sight of the mean giantess tip-toeing. She selected a key, unlocked a metal door to reveal dimly lit stairs, then quickly ushered me through before turning and relocking it.
She had planned the route and time well.
We descended, knowing a line had been crossed. There was no reason for her to be here with me. She would be fired. I’d be pumped up with higher doses of antipsychotic drugs.
Furnace pipes whistled and moaned above us. The floor was dusty, the air musty. I looked around for windows, hiding places, and doors while trying to understand the general layout. Boxes, old bed frames, broken chairs, and cushions were piled along corridors. Dim yellow bulbs glowed, separated by long stretches of gloomy shadows.
We passed through an old rusty gate of iron bars stretching from floor to ceiling and marched quickly through a series of twists and turns, past stacks of filing cabinets, a large furnace, and low ductwork. In an area partially blocked by piles of sheet metal and wooden pallets, four doors met. A faint light shown through a badly-stained basement window just above the level of my head. I could make out brown, uncut grass on the other side of it.
“In here,” she commanded, opening one of the doors and flicking on a light. A number of mattresses had been shoved together to cover most of the floor space of a small room.
A long black chord snaked from one wall to a phone in the middle of the room.
She shut the door and scowled. “Try to make your private phone call. We don’t have much time, but that’s all right. I’ll pin you in thirty seconds.”
She crouched slightly into a wrestling stance. Even with her knees bent, my head level didn’t even reach her shoulders.
Man, she might really want to fight. What’s my plan, anyway? I’ve got to get her naked, grab those keys and her clothes, find a side door or break out that window, and run. Jesus, reminds me of the con the girls in the stream tried to pull on Johnny and me.
She flexed her mammoth arms, stretched her fingers, and rolled her wide shoulders.
“There’s a guy I want you to meet. Name’s Nando.”
“C’mon Mister Parker, you want to wrestle. C’mon, we’ve got twenty minutes, maybe thirty, tops.”
“If we don’t have much time—skip the wrestling—lets get naked.”
“What? I’m not getting undressed. You sick pervert.”
Her hand flicked out, grabbing at my arm. Before I could break free, she had twisted it behind my back. I spun to one side, but she caught the back of my leg with a kick, knocking me to my hands and knees. Damn, she was serious. It didn’t look like any sexual con would work to help me out of this getting-crazier-by-the-minute madhouse.
She pounced full force onto my back. Her knees crushed into my calves, and my arms were knocked out from under me. I tried to squirm free on my stomach but couldn’t budge beneath her weight. She slapped my jaw upwards with an open palm. Before the buzz of pain had time to register, she had wrapped a choke hold around my neck, and I was gulping for whatever air was allowed past the inner bend of her elbow. Damn. The memories of Tweety trying to kill me as we fucked surfaced full force when the wack-job nurse pushed her tits hard against me, thrusting them with undisguised aggressiveness.
I grasped her forearm with both my hands and pulled it away from my neck. “Pumpkin—” Her arm snapped back against my throat.
I couldn’t match her strength, but my hands were free. I reached backwards, dug my fingers deep into her nest of hair, and pulled, twisting away with two orange clumps in my grip.
“Aiee, you crazy twerp.”
We rolled away from each other.
Her nurse cap was tilted over one ear as she crawled towards me. Her eyes looked more deranged than any of the patients on her floor.
“Enough, Pumpkin.” I sat up and inched backwards until my back was against a wall.
“Shut up, Parker. You know what it’s like to be laughed at because of your size? Or your hair color? Or your name? It’s always the little smart-asses like you making fun, thinking you’re better than others.”
“I never laughed at you.”
“Nobody cares that I have feelings. All I am is something to ridicule.”
“Look, I, uh, I’m sorry. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”
“You didn’t want to use the phone. What did you want?”
She lunged quickly, grabbed at one of my legs, but I kicked out away from her. I leaped to my feet. She responded, flying upwards to tackle me, her shoulder slamming into my chest. The impact knocked me backwards, leaving me woozy and staggering erratically to keep my balance. Her arm swooped to the floor, yanking the phone cord from its outlet. I caught a hazy glimpse of the phone banging across the mattress. Just as I gathered myself into a steady stance, she slammed me, face-first, against the wall. My body sagged back against her, the back of my head between her tits.
She swiftly wrapped the black telephone cord around my neck. With near-paralytic horror, I realized she was trying to kill me.
Then a series of events—by whatever god-like being had chalked up a cue stick and took careful aim—saved me.
The door of the room opened. Nurse Pumpkin turned from her murderous intentions to see Barry the orderly and a thin mousey woman in a red dress drop their mouths in surprise. But Barry was used to unpredictable situations. He jumped forward and grabbed at my attacker. At the same time, groping desperately, I somehow managed to rip the full keyring from Pumpkin’s belt. A large Yale key ended up jammed between two of my fingers. Instinctively, I swung my arm up and above my shoulder, plunging my weapon into the nurse’s face.
Her head didn’t move from the impact, and she made no sound. I twisted in her grip and looked upwards into a stricken bloody face. The key had torn along the length of her nose and ripped her left eyelid. A flap of skin jittered crazily over her eye, which spasmed as it sought shelter.
Barry let go of her, his hands snapping away as if shocked by the current of violence just thrust into Nurse Pumpkin. She stepped backwards slowly, one hand still clutching the phone cord, dragging me like her macabre dance partner. Her other hand covered her lacerations, blood oozing between her knuckles. She sat down hard, and I fell across her chest. She stared at me with her good eye, disbelief taking me in.
She seemed a thousand miles away as she pronounced without emotion, “I’ll get you.”
Barry pulled me off her, knelt down by the giant wounded nurse. “Elsa, what’s happening here? We’ve got to get you upstairs to a doctor. Immediately.”
“She tried to kill me.” I rubbed at my throat. Man, I must hold some kind of record of women trying to do me in.
The woman in the red dress pushed at strands of hair that covered her face, and then ran a finger along the collar of my shirt. “You’ve got red circles around your neck.”
Barry looked at me in horror, then turned to Pumpkin and sputtered in confusion, “What you gone and done, Elsa?”
Pumpkin’s face came alive with a furious twist. “You, nigger, what have you done? You brought another one of your little white girls down to your secret cellar. How many blow jobs from her before you let her escape? Did you think I never heard of the fuck and run room?”
“Let’s get you to a doctor. That eye needs attention.”
“It’s my word against a nigger and two lunatics. You say one word, and I’ll have your black ass fried, along with Parker’s, for attempted rape of not only me but poor Audrey there too.” She turned her harsh one-eyed glare onto the young woman in the red dress. “Audrey, he was going to force you to fuck him. He promised you drugs if you sucked him.”
Audrey nodded nervously, looking lost to whatever pathetic cravings had driven her to this den of hell.
Barry stood up. “You tried to kill Parker. I’m not going to let you get away with that.”
Pumpkin withdrew her hand from her eye and wiped her bloody fingers on her uniform. She gritted her teeth. “Christ, this hurts.”
I pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to her.
“How polite.” She dabbed at the ruptured mess where her lid and nose bled. “You hear me, Barry? Even if some believe your side of the story, you’ll be through here. Your cake job with its side benefits like Audrey will be gone. I’ll make sure your little mama at home hears you just happened to be in the basement with a young, sweet-lipped white girl. How old are you, Audrey?”
She answered vacantly, not following what was happening around her. “Eighteen.”
Elsa Pumpkin smiled wickedly up at Barry. “Well, aren’t you a lucky employee. Such benefits.”
Barry’s eyes met mine. In that moment I knew Pumpkin’s blackmail had outstripped his desire to see justice done. He’d lose everything.
I flung the telephone cord at Elsa’s feet.
Barry hustled Audrey and me out the door.
“Audrey was going to run later today. She knows the way. Follow her. It’s the best chance for all of us.” He paused, trying to piece together his ad-lib of a plan. “She’s been in and out so many times nobody’ll know she’s even gone in the chaos that’s about to erupt. I’m going to have to tell everyone you jabbed the Pumpkin’s face while escaping.”
“I was trying to.”
“What?”
“Escape, that’s how this screwup happened.”
“Okay, okay. Nurse Pumpkin and I go way back. Know the sins of each other. But, man, I never saw this behavior. I’ll keep my eyes on her. Someday I’ll get you justice, you hear? Justice will lock her away. She that crazy, I’ll see to it before she hurts someone else.”
“Good luck explaining your way out of this.”
“No luck. Oh no. I’ve just made a deal with that orange-haired demon. I’ll watch my back, but I’ll survive. Lord forgive me.”
I could hear Pumpkin muttering and cursing, vowing to ruin me and Barry.
Barry grabbed my arm. “Don’t go thinking you can just waltz around out there. This escape involved a crime of violence. And something else you should know. You’re high profile. That newspaper article and the Feds bringing you in here got you in the spotlight. You watch yourself. Somebody’s been poking around, asking questions about you.”
“What? Who do you mean?”
“Has to be a Federal boy. They’re still sniffing. Rumors say you’re a pure communist threat.”
“Total bullshit.”
“Just tell me one thing. I already have enough sin hanging over my head. Just tell me I’m not letting a man run who supported the killing of my brother in Vietnam.”
It took me a moment to understand what he was saying. “I’m against the damn war. Some fed’s got a bug up his ass about me. It’s all just more insanity.”
“Go. Follow Audrey.”
We weaved our way down dark corridors, through a series of doors, and sloshed across a room with an inch of standing water. Audrey flopped herself on an old couch, sighed heavily, and stared hazily at the pile of chairs and tables surrounding us.
“You got a joint?”
“No, lets get out of here, Audrey. We’ll find some weed when we’re out.”
“I don’t have any underwear on.” She looked down at her lap, brushed with the back of her hand at a fold in her dress, and then met my eyes with a ruined sadness.
You’d think I’d have had more sense. I was escaping to be with Teresa. I had just flubbed a con using sex and had almost wound up being killed by that giant psycho, Pumpkin. But there I was, fifteen minutes later, standing in front of a confused-looking mental patient and considering a quick fuck in the dungeons of Bellevue while we fled. Damn, she looked wafer-thin and the spaced-out wreck of her eyes pervaded her entire being, but I could make out hidden curves and pretty features and had latched my eyes onto her ass as we ducked under boards and climbed around piles of boxes.
“Uh, well, sounds like something I’d really like to investigate, but how do we get out of the building, Audrey?”
“There’s a hidden window.” She lay back and hiked her dress up. “Don’t you want to ball me? Everybody else always does.”
I swallowed back my fear of being caught, watched her spread her legs. She closed her eyes and positioned herself to receive me.
“It would make us feel so much better than we do now.”
She slipped her hand through her pubic hair and dipped one finger inside herself. Then two.
I stepped towards her and reached for my zipper. She became vigorous in fingering herself.
It had always been difficult for me to think reasonably whenever I got hard, but as I watched her masturbate, the creaks and squeaks of the cellar, the buzz of traffic on the street outside, the shuffling and cries on the floors above me seemed to provide the rhythm of her strokes. I stopped myself, droppe
d my hand from the front of my pants. She was mind-fucking some chaotic thing inside her. It wouldn’t have been me. Or for fun. Or love.
I turned away. And there in the gloom of a dead-end musty room that smelled like rat urine, I sought a way out of the trap I found myself in, listening to Audrey moan and whimper enigmatically, “I’ll cry if you stop.” I moved old furniture and climbed on top of stacked tables, looking for the route out of the cluttered room. Frustrated with my efforts to escape, I approached her. Her eyes were slammed shut.
“Audrey, we have to move. Show me the way.”
She withdrew her fingers from herself, stifled a helpless sounding sigh. A moment later, she curled into a fetus position, draping one arm over her eyes, scrunching the other between her legs.
If she had looked worn-out before, when she removed her arm from her face—maybe it was the poor light, or maybe I caught a glimpse of her soul—she looked to be a desiccated mummy. My hand reached out, beyond the illness that pervaded that hospital basement, and touched her cheek.
“We’ve got to go. There’s better places for you to be than this cellar.”
She roused herself, climbed over the couch, reached behind a box, and pulled on a latch. I heard the grating sound of metal as she rolled a handle around and around. Then a whiff of cold air entered the stuffy room.
“You have to crawl along a construction ditch until you reach a bunch of trees. Stay hidden by walking under them. You’ll see a loose section of fence you have to flip up. Then we’ll cross the highway and head for the piles of cement by the river if it looks safe. You go first. There’s a trick way to shut this window from the outside.”
Around midnight we entered into the abandoned warehouse that Lola and I had partied at a year before. The walls were painted with bright flower patterns and peace signs. There were more homemade alcoves and tents scattered in the open areas than the last time I had been there. I immediately sensed the gravitational pull of different stoned-out tribes. There were happy light-filled faces, serious musicians, jokesters, lone artists, wild hallucinating partiers blowing on harmonicas, seekers who spoke philosophically, naked trippers, whispering lovers, shy circles of men, dark somber souls, people who freaked and shrieked, addicts that lay in their pool of stillness, others that buzzed and twitched, strangers who didn’t belong, visitors who smoked and laughed and then left.
Miracles (The Remarkable Adventures of Deets Parker Book 3) Page 3