Inanimate

by Deryck Jason

  James Graham and Perry Murdoch sat looking at their Sergeant who had never steered them wrong, never lied to them, at least not that they were aware of. Upholding the law was important to them and they were trustworthy, that’s why Jacobs chose to approach them. “Two bright, up-and-coming stars in a sky of dullards” was how Jacobs described them. Murdoch and Graham shared a looked before deciding to accept Jacobs’ proposition.

  With the last of the paperwork finished Doctor Crass signed the last of his forms and picked them up. He banged them gently, lengthwise on the desk so that they were neat, grabbed his things and headed out the office. With his satchel slung over one shoulder he locked his office door, placed the files in a plastic docket on top of the nurse’s desk and headed down the hall. In another office Doctor Frieda still had not gone home yet, having decided to forego the silence of his empty condo for the relative safety of Hallcombes. Smoking a cigarette, his hand was deep in his hair as he rubbed his head. The knock at the door startled him and he quickly threw his cigarette into the dustbin, knowing that if he got caught smoking in the hospital he would be in serious trouble. He was especially worried once he saw who was entering his office.

  “Dr. Crass, what can I do for you?”

  In his haste Frieda forgot to sort his hair so he had an oversized quiff sticking up where it was once styled.

  “Doctor MacNamee and I are going away for a couple of days for a conference. We might need to get information from the boy while we are away so we may contact you and ask you to get it for us.”

  Crass couldn’t help but feel pity on Frieda as he looked around the messy office. The man behind the desk was sweaty, unkempt, but Crass had bigger things to worry about than Frieda’s personal hygiene.

  “Ok, Doctor Crass. That sounds good.”

  Crass stood for a moment, analyzing Frieda’s shifty behavior.

  “Paul, are you alright?”

  “Yes sir, I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

  Frieda’s lie was paper thin. Crass didn’t believe that he was alright. But it was clear Frieda did not want to talk about it. Crass wasn’t all that interested in Frieda’s wellbeing anyways, as long as he performed his duties at the hospital. Crass took a gentle sniff of the air.

  “Paul?”

  “Yes sir?”

  “You haven’t been smoking in here have you?”

  Frieda scoffed.

  “What? No way sir, definitely not, I know better than that. No, I think it’s coming from outside.”

  Crass eyes glanced past the closed windows, with rain streaking wildly down them. Looking at Frieda he decided he would not push the subject.

  “Ok Frieda I believe you, but what are you still doing here? You should had been finished hours ago”

  “Oh yes sir, I just wanted to do a couple of things before I left, I’ll be leaving soon enough.”

  Frieda had no intention of fulfilling this statement, he just wanted rid of Crass.

  “Ok, very well then. I will call you if I need you to speak with Connor.”

  “Sounds good sir.”

  Crass looked him up and down. Frieda’s eyes were locked on Crass’s. After a quick glance downwards Crass headed towards the door. Frieda breathed a sigh of relief as it seemed Crass was finally leaving. The old doctor opened the heavy brown door then turned back to his shaky colleague.

  “Oh, and Paul?” Crass asked as if he forgot to mention something important.

  “Yes sir?”

  “Your trash can’s on fire!”

  As Crass closed the door he could heard Frieda furiously stomping at the garbage can, trying to put the small paper fire out. Most people would find this situation quite amusing, but not Crass, not right now. He headed further down the corridor still and stopped in on MacNamee who was just finishing the last of his paperwork.

  “All finished Greg?”

  “Almost.”

  MacNamee signed the last of his forms and closed a binder, trapping all of his papers inside.

  “Done”

  “Good good. I stopped in on Frieda, damn fool was smoking in his office. I let him know we would be out of town for a couple of days.”

  MacNamee was shaking his head.

  “Oh Frieda! Well good, that’s all the loose ends tied up then. Time to go home and get some sleep.”

  “Will Greta be waiting up for you?”

  “Oh shit, I forgot to call her and tell her I would be home late. Oh that’s alright I’m sure she’ll have figured it out. She’ll probably be in bed by now anyways. We’re both out by ten-thirty these days.”

  “I’m not surprised” said Crass as they left the office, heading down towards the exit, with MacNamee dropping off his files on route.

  “We’ve had a tiring few days” Crass continued.

  “Yeah, Greta has been really good throughout it all too.”

  “She’s a good woman.” Crass said just before they exited the main door into the rainy parking lot.

  “Yeah, she is.” MacNamee smiled fondly.

  “Ok Ben, I’ll pick you up tomorrow, at seven thirty, we’ll go meet Jacobs from there.”

  “Ok Greg, get some sleep.”

  “You too.”

  The two split up into the car park, moving quickly to their cars they tried to avoid as much of the storm as they could.

  He never cared that his feet were getting wetter. He just wanted to get inside the house. If that meant that the quickest route was through more puddles then so be it he thought. With a quick turn he checked the doorknob to see if the door was unlocked and it was. He never liked the fact that Greta never locked the door but tonight he made an exception. He stepped into the hall. Shaking his head he tried to get of some of the water in his hair. Slamming the door shut was his own personal protest to the weather. Now the heat inside had hit him he could feel how wet he really was. Individual droplets streaked down his back, mixing with sweat, creating a greasy skin feeling. Dropping off all his stuff by the door he put his hands in his hair and shook some more of the water out. His hands also felt greasy now; as the product he used to style his hair had now mixed with the water and coated his hands. With a quick wipe on his pants he kicked off his shoes, then, with a slight struggle he peeled off his soaking wet socks, almost losing balance as he stood on alternating feet while pulling them off. He started a slight jog towards the stairs; eager to get into bed as soon as possible when something stopped him. Looking down he could see prints on the hardwood floor, paw prints. Unlike the prints he saw on the hospital floor these were more defined, clear toes were visible and they were smaller. Suddenly his heart sank deeper into his chest; something was in here with his wife. He took his time moving up the stairs, trying to be as silent as possible while his mind raced, urging him to move faster to find out if his wife was safe. The footprints started to fade as they headed off in the direction of the bedroom. MacNamee followed them carefully down the hall, he tried to remain quiet but the floorboards in the old vintage house which he prized so dearly would give him away any chance they got. After a few squeaks he decided the stealthy approach was over now so he moved quickly down the hall. He wanted to call out for his wife, but that would be announcing his presence too much so instead he bit his tongue. Bursting open the bedroom door he saw her, lying on her back on the bedroom floor, her face mostly dissolved. The smell hit him right away, throwing his hand to his face he would know that scent from a mile away. It was vomit or, more accurately, the stomach acid within it. Over his time at Hallcombes he had been around after they had vomited, and the one thing he noticed was that that horrible smell was always the same. Unable to speak, he moved towards her Streaming tears clouded his vision. Blinking himself clear he stood over her. He hadn’t even noticed how shallow and rapid his breathing had become, his lungs shook as they blow out air. His wife, his love, lay before him mutilated and he had no idea what to do. The smell was not strong enough to overwhelm his feelings. He dropped to his knees beside her; taking hold of her he buried h
is face in her shoulder. As he started to weep a thought broke in to his mind, this was the first time he had ever been this emotional around his wife. His hands found the last of the hair still attached to her scalp, how did she ever get involved in this? Greta provided the voice of console, of levity, of love, and now, in front of him she laid, an innocent in the situation rapidly unfolding before him. Through tears he pulled the soft white linen off the bed, dabbed his eyes and kissed it softly. Carefully he lay her down and covered her in the sheet. Stains started to form around the horrible face he hoped he would never have to see again. His memory, his thoughts would forever be of the woman he cherished and her features, which he would never forget. Allowing her burned face into his memory would mean her killer would win and MacNamee was not about to let that happen. Now that she was covered he slowly got to his feet. At this point he could had been attacked by whatever attacked his wife but he didn’t care, he’d already lost her and if he had to die he would rather it was by her side than anywhere else on earth. Looking around the room he realized he was alone and since he wasn’t about to die he would make a promise to her.

  “I promise. I will put an end to this.”

  He took one last looked at the white shape on the floor and headed out down the hall. He didn’t call 911, knowing an ambulance was pointless and the police would ask too many questions, probably assuming he was the killer or presuming he was crazy for telling the truth. As he headed downstairs, the thought of stepping out in the rain didn’t seem so bad anymore. Taking his keys from his pocket he paused before leaving, he knew that when he left the house, everything was going to change again. He had had enough already but he couldn’t bring himself to do nothing. He had to put an end to this, like he promised he would, for Greta. Finally, he was able to take a deep breath and control his emotions, but not for long. In one sudden rush; everything he felt came straight to the surface once more and he broke down right there in the hall.

  In the car he played with his cell phone, thinking of calling Crass when his mind wandered. Blame followed tragedy and MacNamee’s sadness was starting to mold into anger and resentment. He called up Crass, the urge to hear a friendly voice becoming overpowering. Unable to sleep, the old man sat alone in his living room with a cup of tea. The storm raged outside, but the classical music coming from his speakers didn’t miss a note. A harmonious interpretation of a spring day was Crass’s tipple this evening alongside a cup of green tea infused with orange. A well-tuned ear was easily able to distinguish the difference between strings and a cell phone ringing so he got up, put down his tea and headed into the hall. Rummaging through his coat pocket which was still soaking wet he found the ringing phone, spotted Greg’s name and answered it right away.

  “Yes Greg?” asked the old doctor, comfortable in his red dressing gown.

  “Greta’s dead.”

  The response was a more than unexpected one, not least because it sidestepped detail or small talk. Crass took a moment to digest the information given to him before answering.

  “Jesus Greg. What happened?”

  “One of those things.”

  “Have you called anyone?”

  “Just you.”

  “What about the police?”

  “What could they do? Besides lock me up?”

  Crass was nervous at just how calm MacNamee seemed.

  “Greg, wait outside the house. I’m coming to get you.”

  “No, I’m not coming over, and you shouldn’t leave the house. You need to stay in, protect Wilma; the same thing could happen to her if you don’t. You stay in and you lock everything up tight.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’m going to Staunton with Jacobs, but first I’ve got to pay a visit to a friend of ours.”

  The bitterness in MacNamee’s voice frightened the old doctor, especially as he knew exactly who he was referring to.

  “Don’t go see him Greg, you won’t find answers, you’ll just get yourself into trouble.”

  “I’m already in trouble Ben, and that little bastard is responsible for Greta.”

  MacNamee broke down over the phone. Crass felt deeply sorry for him but he knew the course of action he wanted to take was a bad one. Still, he could not do much about it. MacNamee was right, Crass needed to stay indoors now and protect his wife.

  “Greg, promise me you won’t go see him.”

  Crass tried his best but MacNamee was beyond convincing.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow”

  MacNamee’s dead tone sent a chill down the old man’s spine, he knew that right now only one person could prevent him from making a terrible mistake.

  Tim Jackson sat in his security office, he wished he didn’t have to be here, but he needed the money and there were not many jobs going right now. He did have bills to pay and kids to support after all. He jumped as the phone rang, he found himself jumping a lot more often these days.

  “Hallcombes security office”

  “Tim! This is Doctor Crass, I need you to give me your full attention and do exactly as I say with no questions asked.”

  Tim sat up straight, he had never heard this tone from the old man before so he knew it was serious.

  “Yes, Doctor Crass.”

  “Doctor MacNamee is coming to the hospital; he is going to be very upset and angry. Whatever you do, do not give him the key to ‘Room 101’ no matter what he says or does. He may try and take it by force, he may even try and break in when he doesn’t get it, but whatever happens, he must not be allowed in to Connor Williams’ room.”

  “Sir, what’s going on?”

  “Tim, I asked you not to ask questions didn’t I?”

  Tim immediately reprimanded himself.

  “Yes sir, sorry sir”

  “Tim, this is extremely important, besides the key I have in my possession, you have the only other one in the office, it is imperative Doctor MacNamee does not get it.”

  The two hundred and thirty pound Tim was aware that physically MacNamee was no match for him, but he couldn’t help but wonder why Crass would ask him to do this.

  “He’s on his way now Tim. Can I count on you?”

  Tim swallowed hard. “Yes sir.”

  “Hello doctor” said the nurse at the reception desk but the greeting fell on deaf ears, MacNamee simply stormed past her. Steaming through the halls at that time of night, there were very few people there to see his moment of weakness. MacNamee was in no mood to care either way though, even if the halls were packed full of staff he still would not have halted his charge.

  “Where are the keys for room 101?”

  MacNamee burst into the security office. Tim had been busy, rehearsing in his head what we would say and do when MacNamee came in but now the moment was upon him and he was clueless. Taking too long to answer, MacNamee checked the steel cabinet himself but found an empty hook where the key should be. Menacingly he turned towards Tim.

  “Where is it Tim?”

  “Doctor Crass said I wasn’t to give it to you.”

  Tim spoke shakily despite the fact he was much larger than MacNamee.

  “Did he? Well Doctor Crass isn’t here, I am and I am your boss, and I am telling you to give me the key Tim!”

  MacNamee spoke slowly but his voice was strong.

  “I’m sorry doctor, I can’t”

  MacNamee, out of frustration slammed his hand down and swept everything off Tim’s desk sending paper everywhere. MacNamee’s breathing was heavy, he looked at Tim standing nervously firm in his place. The doctor’s eyes welled up uncontrollably.

  “Dammit Tim Greta’s dead! The boy in that room is to blame. I just want to know why. I tried to help him, I wanted to help him! She had nothing to do with this!”

  MacNamee put his hand on the desk, holding himself up as his emotions took hold. Tears started to form in Tim’s eyes, he felt for MacNamee, slumped broken before him.

  “Doctor MacNamee, I’m so sorry but I can’t give you the key.”

 
Tim was terribly apologetic; his empathy for MacNamee knew no bounds, except giving him what he was asking for.

  “You can’t? Ok fine!”

  Even in his fragile yet volatile state MacNamee was not stupid enough to try and take it by force, logically the only place Tim would have it was on his person and MacNamee had never been in one fight in his life. He turned and stormed out the room, gliding up the corridor with only moonlight to guide his way. He was a man possessed by wrought. Stopping at room 101 he peered in through the window and saw Connor asleep on the bed. Suddenly his wrought turned right back to rage.

  “You little fuck! You’re sleeping? You’re fucking sleeping?!”

  Screaming, he banged on the door!

  “Get up you little shit! You killed my wife! How can you lie there sleeping?!”

  Suddenly, all around him the lights flicked on, illuminating the darkness. Patients started to stir as MacNamee beat on the door with both hands screaming at the top of his lungs. Tim, having turned on the lights was now moving down the corridor rapidly on an intercept course with MacNamee. Sound effects created by psychotic patients echoed in the halls, some imitated MacNamee’s cries, others make odd shrieking noises. Like waking up in a familiar jungle Connor sat up in bed unfazed. MacNamee stopped banging as the boy met eyes with him. The two locked gazes but Connor slowly smiled a proud smile, happy with his work. This was MacNamee’s last straw. Tim had not interrupted him until now, until MacNamee took a step back and put all his weight into a strong boot to the door itself, trying to force entry. Thuds bounced off the walls, all the way down the corridor, shaking the very hospital to its core.

  “Doctor MacNamee you need to calm down”

  Tim called out to no avail. Kicking the door over and over Connor simply sat, smiling back at him through the glass, encouraging more kicks to the ageing metal lock. Patients grew louder in more numbers and the noise quickly woke up one of Hallcombes temporary squatters. Frieda was awakened quickly from the sleep at his desk. Quietly he poked his head out his office door like a rabbit from its hole to see what the commotion was. He stepped out into the hallway unnoticed as Tim, positioned like a football player ready to tackle a runner aimed his body towards MacNamee.