Inanimate

by Deryck Jason

  “I need to go to the bathroom.”

  Frieda cleared his throat.

  “Go ahead” he said, knowing full well that it was against policy to let a patient go alone but now he was the primary boy’s doctor and was the one who made the decisions. Besides, he didn’t really like the idea of being in an enclosed space with Connor and the bathroom was an extension of the interview room so it wasn’t like he would be going far. The boy put his book down, he got up and strolled to the bathroom, once he was out of sight Frieda released his breath.

  Connor stood at the trough. The bathroom was immaculately kept: gleaming white porcelain was surrounded by pristine tile and one jet-black bathroom stall. Although hospitals of any kind were required by law to be up to code when it came to cleanliness, Doctor Crass always took it to the extreme. He believed bathrooms were the first port of call for infection so he made sure all of his were spotless. After finishing his business, Connor moved to the sink to wash his hands, something his father taught him was very important. A light behind him started to waver, slowly pulsing on and off for a few seconds before the bulb popped, instantly turning a whole corner of the windowless bathroom black. In the mirror Connor watched a figure materialize, outline first in the darkness. Stepping into the light slightly “The Eye” looked directly at him.

  “Hello Connor.”

  “Hello.”

  “The Eye” smiled warmly. “Our little friends are doing well, taking the town apart one person at time.”

  “Yes. But they know now. I think they’ll try and stop them.”

  “The Eye” chuckled. “Let them try. The only thing more terrifying than not knowing what’s in the shadows is knowing exactly what’s there, watching you. Oh and Bear? Where did he get jaws like that? Was that your idea?”

  Connor blushed and looked at the floor smiling.

  “Yes, I thought it would be a nice touch. It’s kind of a shame though because I liked Doctor MacNamee. I’ll almost feel bad when he’s gone.”

  Outside, Frieda thought Connor was just talking to himself, but now he could hear a distinct two-way conversation going on. He crept up to the door and stood outside, listening.

  “The Eye,” looking dapper in his pinstripe suit smiled.

  “And what about Frieda? That guy is terrified of you. And rightly so.”

  “I haven’t decided yet, it’s clear the other doctors didn’t think enough of him to involve him in their lie, he’s fun to play with though. I actually feel bad for him, he’s such a loser, maybe I’ll kill him and put him out his own misery.”

  “The Eye” noticed Connor started using “I” instead of “we” which is exactly what he wanted. The boy had taken all responsibility, working completely independent of outside help.

  “It’s your call Connor; if you don’t want to use your minions I have another tool at your disposal. Dixie is always hungry.”

  Connor smiled as Frieda sat up against the door with tears streaming down his face. He had heard just about all he could take of this.

  “I’ll leave you now Connor, I’ll be back soon.”

  “The Eye” raised his hand dramatically like the illusionist he was and then swept it over his body and face, erasing his earthly image from sight. Frieda sucked up some courage and boldly pushed open the bathroom door to find Connor standing alone.

  “Um, who are you talking to Connor?”

  “No-one” Connor shrugged.

  “But...I heard someone say my name.”

  “No you didn’t.”

  Connor smiled and walked past him. Frieda looked around the bathroom but there was nobody there.

  CHAPTER 34

  “Ok Doc, wait here a minute”

  Oates said to MacNamee, aware he had probably never operated a firearm in his life. Oates took point once more as he tried the handle on the front door, finding it locked. Stepping back a little he landed a hard size ten just beside the handle, then another, and another.

  Matthews Bizet’s house was small, the lawn unkempt. It was a wonder he managed to convince any woman to come here at all.

  “So much for the quiet approach” Graham said to Murdoch quietly. On the fourth kick the door swung open wide, slamming off the interior wall. Oates moved in cautiously, it felt unusual to have his gun aimed so low as standard but it was necessary for the situation. The two detectives followed him in as well with Graham going first as per the norm in their partnership. MacNamee watched from the stoop as the three men communicated non-verbally, fanning out to cover as much ground as possible while still watching each other’s back. He thought it quite impressive that despite the fact these three men had never worked together, they were able to co-ordinate their movements with nothing but simple gestures. Graham and Murdoch together were a very successful partnership. It was accepted between the two that while Graham was quicker to react to scenarios Murdoch was the most observant. By standing back behind his partner Murdoch would watch for potential dangers and communicate them to his partner by momentarily taking his thumb off of his poised weapon to click his fingers. This immediately told Graham to halt as a potential danger was near. In fact, by developing this system over time, these two were not only very skilled at securing large areas but they were (right now) incredibly adept at covering Sheriff Oates. Oates rounded the corner into the hall, noticing the floor here was dark with blood seeping from the closed bathroom door. With a light whistle he signaled the other two cops, as if any perpetrator in the house wouldn’t find a birdcall strange. Graham moved towards Oates. Murdoch moved with his back to the wall, covering the rears of his counterparts. Moving softly through the blood, Oates pushed open the bathroom door and saw the terrible sight beneath his eyes; the once beautiful hacked up remains lay taped to the floor. With his gun-free hand he covered his mouth; his gag reflex had long since retired but the smell of blood always unsettle him. With his head he gestured to Graham to move past him while Murdoch moved towards Oates to cover. MacNamee stood alone outside; the heat drizzled around him, mixed with windy wisps in the southern air. It was then that he heard it. That same voice he heard in Connor’s room, calling out for him.

  “MacNamee” it hissed.

  He turned around to see Dummy, in broad daylight, watching him from beside a tree on the other side of the lawn. Raising a hand, Dummy slowly waved, grinning at him.

  “Sh...Sheriff!” he stammered.

  His first call for help was so quiet so he forced himself to be louder.

  “Sheriff!”

  Dummy disappeared behind a hedge just as Oates ran out.

  “What is it doc?”

  “The dummy, I saw him over there!”

  MacNamee pointed towards the tree. With only a slight hesitation Oates bounded across the lawn only to find nothing.

  “It’s gone doc!” Oates said as he headed back towards him.

  MacNamee jumped with fright as the two detectives came out the door.

  “House is empty Sheriff,” said Murdoch. “Did you see anything?”

  Oates shook his head.

  “No, it’s gone. I’ll call the boys to come clean this mess up. I’ll need to wait here to talk to them, you two go down on Earl’s bar, it’s on the main street, easy to find.”

  “Who are we looking for?” asked Graham.

  “Billy the bartender and Brian Bichel; they should be the easiest to find right now. If Brian isn’t at the bar I’ll get in touch with Matthew, he’ll know where to find him.”

  “Ok Sheriff” acknowledged Murdoch, and the two men headed to the car in search of names from the list.

  Across town Jacobs and Matthew pulled into the morgue parking lot.

  “I think I’ll just wait in the car” said Matthew nervously.

  “Why?” Jacobs asked.

  “I just don’t like morgues that’s all.”

  “Son, no-one liked morgues, there’s nothing to like about them.”

  Matthew couldn’t understand why Jacobs kept calling him son, there could only
have been ten years of an age difference between them.

  “Even so, I’m gonna wait here.”

  “No. Sorry, but I can’t let you do that, not with these things on the loose. Come on, man up.”

  Reluctantly Matthew agreed. Entering the small building first Jacobs stopped in front of a homely young receptionist.

  “Good afternoon. I’m Sergeant Jacobs; I’m here to see Ralph Murray.”

  The girl sighed and looked up. Right away Jacob’s could tell she was not a pleasant girl. Thanks to her drooping, uninterested stare, he did not even have to call upon his fabled cop-gut instinct for this judgment either. The fact was pretty apparent to anyone who met her.

  “He’ll be in the examination room, just down the hall there.”

  Matthew walked in just after the girl spoke and he immediately dropped his head to the floor. He had slept with her only a couple of weeks back and had quite abruptly asked her to leave the next morning. She did so but she wasn’t very happy about it at all. Matthew had ran into girls he had slept with before, after all, the town was not that big but he had never been forced to be in such close proximity to one that left him on bad terms until now. Luckily for him she didn’t notice him standing behind Jacobs.

  “It’s funny” Jacobs said before he headed down the hall, “The Sheriff’s office called earlier and no one answered.”

  “That’s no surprise, it’s usually only me who answers the phone around here and I’ve got to took a break sometime…even against Mr. Murray’s better advice.”

  The young lady’s voice was tinged with bitterness. Jacobs ignored her griping; knowing that had he been the girl’s employer he would have already fired her.

  “Oh ok, just down the hall you said?”

  “Yes, straight to the end there.”

  She pointed down the corridor.

  “Thanks,” Jacobs said forcing a smile.

  Matthew pretended he was rubbing his face as he walked past her in an effort to remain incognito. Matthew walked with Jacobs; the truth of why he didn’t want to come in started to flicker into his mind.

  He was thirteen when he first came here right after his father was killed in a car accident. His mother had to come in to identify the body while he waited in the hallway. He remembered thinking how lifeless the place seemed; not only in reference to the corpses it housed but the color scheme of everything was just so depressing to him. The walls, the floor, the doors, even the lightshades were painted in one single unimaginative color. He vividly recalled, “mental redecorating” as he called it. He would focus his gaze on a particularly drab part of the hall, really staring at it. Gradually he would start to add some color to it, even some plants and pictures. This was his way of taking the focus off the fact his dad may have been lying dead in the room next to him. The reason he started doing this was, ironically enough because of the windows. Windows that were normally designed to add brightness or color to an area were being used on the doors that separated sections of the hallway. All you saw when you looked through the windows was another hallway, painted equally as drab as the last. The room that Jacobs was about to go in to was the one that housed his father’s body and, although he found it strange, he actually liked this room. Filled with surgical apparatus, the floor was a spotless white and almost everything else was shiny stainless steel. Just like how bright yellow stood out on pitch black, this room shone, sticking a finger up to the rest of the drab dingy building. Jacobs opened the door to this room (the examination room) and, although the lights were off, the small light that filtered in from the corridor seemed to reflect off every shiny surface in the room, giving the illusion it was brighter than it actually was. Jacobs stepped in with Matthew following more cautiously behind. He knew the only way he could feel remotely comfortable in her was with more light. Matthew groped around in the dimness trying to find a switch. When he did, the soft hum let them both know the lights were coming on.

  “Hello? Doctor Murray?”

  Jacobs called out even though he knew it was stupid. The doctor was unlikely to be standing in the dark, but calling out was standard practice.

  “Wait here.”

  Jacobs said much to Matthew’s shock. Matthew did not want to tell Jacobs why he didn’t want to be in the room; instead he tried to appear tough.

  “No problem.”

  Jacobs turned and walked down the corridor; leaving Matthew alone. In the quiet, only a leaking faucet could be heard. The timing of the dripping was not uniformed however, suggesting that the faucet was not broken. It was more likely someone had turned the tap off recently but there were still a few drips left to fall. Matthew did not think of this however, in fact he did not even hear the dripping; he was lost in the room. The sterile atmosphere had triggered images in his head. Flashing like little lightning bolts, memories shot into him. He recalled, as a boy peering through these glass doors, watching Ralph Murray introduce his mother to the freezer where his father was being stored. Although her body blocked his vision, he was able to watch her shake and then weep uncontrollably as his father was unveiled to her. No stranger to misery, Murray consoled her a little before rolling the body back into the freezer in the wall, and closing the steel door behind it. Matthew loathed the fact people were cut up and put in the cooler like leftovers once they were dead.

  “You did that with leftover turkey on Thanksgiving” he thought “Not with people.”

  “Are you sure Doctor Murray is in there? He didn’t leave while you were on break or anything?”

  Jacobs talked down to the receptionist.

  “No, he wouldn’t do that, he always tells me before he leaves. He’s very big on protocol.”

  “Well it looks like he just broke protocol because that room is empty.”

  The receptionist shrugged.

  “I don’t know what to tell you.”

  “I’m shocked,” Jacobs said sarcastically before turning back down the hall into the examination room. “Let’s go, he’s not here.”

  Matthew simply stared at the examination table.

  “What are you staring at?” Jacobs asked, trying to follow his gaze.

  “Ralph Murray has been the town’s coroner for as long as I can remember.”

  “So?”

  “Which means he had to have been reasonably good at his job.”

  “I’m sure he was terrific. What’s your point?”

  “What kind of a coroner would leave behind all that blood?”

  Jacobs looked over at the table, finally understanding what Matthew was getting at. He had been in morgues many times and was so used to seeing blood that he had not thought this strange until Matthew’s amateur eye pointed it out.

  “Wait here again.”

  The cop sighed and walked back down the corridor to reception.

  “Who was the last person your boss was working on today?”

  The receptionist sat with her celebrity magazine in hand. She had no interest in the whereabouts of her boss, the coroner and it showed in her responses.

  “No idea.”

  “Well what time does he usually go for lunch?”

  “Um…I think around two” she said, not looking up.

  Jacobs reached over the desk and snatched the magazine away from her, tossing it over his shoulder to the floor.

  “Look, I get it! You’re young, and you want to be out with friends instead of working right? I understand that I really do. You probably hate your boss am I right? Am I hitting the nail on the little empty head here? The truth is…I don’t give a shit! Find a way to make yourself more helpful or I’m going to lock you up for obstructing a police investigation.”

  The receptionist sighed, completely unfazed by Jacobs’ threat.

  “I think I have his cell number somewhere.”

  “That’s better,” said Jacobs through a rigid smile.

  After a couple of moments of moving away some paperwork the receptionist produced a Rolodex. Jacobs quietly watched her flick through the names whil
e wondering to himself why they still used such an outdated filing system. She stopped at Murray’s number and punched it into the phone beside her. A version of the song “Hallelujah” started coming from the examination room where Matthew was still standing. The ringtone was only a faint buzz at the reception desk. Jacobs looked around trying to figure out where it was coming from.

  “Psst!”

  The receptionist was trying to get Jacobs’ attention. When he turned round to her, thinking she was going to tell him where the sound was coming from she simply whispered the words “It’s ringing.” She animated her face dramatically while doing this, sarcastically giving the impression that she was extremely eager to help. Pissed off by her insolence Jacobs’ tried his best not to lose his temper. Instead he simply mouthed back in an equally overly enthusiastic fashion “I know!” Spotting the glow of the cell phone Matthew walked across the floor to beside the exam table.

  “Jacobs!”

  Matthew yelled at the sergeant, prompting him give the receptionist one last contemptuous look before jogging down to join him. The phone glowed ominously on the floor as it vibrated.

  “I got it!”

  Matthew picked it up off the floor, still wondering where all the blood came from. Jacobs came into the room.

  “Ok” stated the cop “So we’ve found the coroner’s phone, but where’s the coroner?”

  His eyes floated around the room for a moment before he felt Matthew tapping at him.

  “What?”

  With his chin, Matthew gestured towards one of the six steel doors on the wall; he noticed that the handle was askew, not horizontal like the rest of them. Slowly, Jacobs drew his gun and gestured for Matthew to move towards the drawer, but he couldn’t. He remembered that door all too well. That was the door his father was in. Jacobs gestured more forcefully, jerking his head towards it with absolute urgency. Matthew slowly moved in, Jacobs assumed his apprehension was out of fear, unaware of the traumatic events in his past.

  “Open it!” Jacobs whispered harshly.