Kill the Next One

by Federico Axat

  “From what you’ve told me, these cycles are altered versions of real events that took place before he was admitted.”

  “Exactly. Each event has a basis in reality. Including his visit to Blaine’s house, as we now know.”

  “What if Ted really meant to kill Blaine, like an avenger? What if he waited at his house, hiding just like he told you, and in the end couldn’t kill him?”

  Laura thought it over. They drank the last drops of coffee.

  “That doesn’t make much sense. It would change everything.” Laura scratched the tip of her nose. “I thought I had it all more or less figured out, until now.”

  “Maybe we’re blowing this sticker all out of proportion. Ted saw it at some point, maybe a long time ago, and the detail was etched in his memory. Do we know anything about the former owners of the house?”

  “If I had only thought of asking the real estate agent,” Laura said with regret. “I could call and ask, but I doubt he’d feel much like cooperating after our little scene. But I have the feeling the answer is right in front of our noses.”

  Marcus remained silent. Laura stared at the ceiling.

  “I’m compiling a document with every detail Ted has told me in all our sessions. I guided my questions in different directions each time, so it all forms a sort of jigsaw puzzle. I just finished the first cycle. Would you be interested in reading it?”

  “Of course. A fresh set of eyes might be just what you need.”

  Laura looked at him with a curious intensity.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  She continued gazing at him in the same enigmatic way.

  “What?” he repeated. “Do I have a piece of doughnut on my lips?”

  He put the back of his hand to his mouth.

  “No, silly.” Laura softly pushed his hand away. “It really helps me to talk this over with you. That’s all.”

  “I’m glad.”

  He moved a little closer. He didn’t find the situation uncomfortable. He lowered his voice a little.

  “Let’s let it rest till tomorrow. Maybe we’ll see things a little more clearly then. It might be simpler than it appears: Ted found out his wife was having an affair with the guy and he lost control. How is the guy doing?”

  “Lynch is still in a coma. His prognosis isn’t all that encouraging.”

  “Does Ted know?”

  “No. He still believes Wendell did it.”

  “Wendell.” Marcus smiled. “Funny, in its own way.”

  “Don’t laugh,” she scolded him with feigned anger. “I’m really worried about how he’ll react when he finds out. That’s the last door we still have to open. And the most dangerous one.”

  “Do you plan to transfer him back to your wing?”

  “Not for now. As long as he keeps improving I don’t want to go backwards. Besides, he seems to fit in well with some of the patients, including Dawson.”

  Marcus took a sharp breath and frowned.

  “What a roommate.”

  “Marcus?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m glad you came. Really.”

  Laura’s hand rested on his. Marcus looked at it, unsure what to do next.

  If there was a moment when he might have leaned forward and kissed her, it was lost when the phone rang. Laura ran to answer it, and when she returned she had a completely different look on her face. Talking to her ex-husband instantly put her in a bad mood, as Marcus well knew. She didn’t even have to tell him who had called.

  “Walter will be here in a few minutes,” she said in annoyance, shaking her head.

  Marcus stood up. He assumed the comment was a request for him to leave. Laura was talking more to herself than to him.

  “He’s supposed to be the father, and I can’t get him to spend one whole fucking day with his son. I almost have to beg him. Today he was supposed to take him to play, then they were going to spend the rest of the afternoon in the park with his cousins. Now he calls to tell me something came up at work. On a Sunday!”

  “Take it easy, Laura.”

  “I just don’t get it. I really don’t. It’s one day. What could be more important than seeing your own son?”

  Marcus was about to suggest that he stay and organize something to do with little Walter, but he told himself that would be moving too fast. He tried to calm Laura down, to take her mind off things with silly comments, even tried to get back to Ted’s case, but nothing worked.

  “Sometimes I think he does it on purpose. He knows it drives me crazy when he shows no interest in Walter. He knows that perfectly well. He seems to enjoy calling me to tell me that something came up unexpectedly. The bastard.”

  41

  Walter was an intelligent, sensitive, rather shy boy. On weekends Laura would prepare a bubble bath for him, give him some of his favorite bath toys, and sit by the side of the tub to talk with him. The rubber duckies of a few years ago had given way to battleships, spaceships, and Transformers, and several months ago Walter had told her, very seriously, that he could no longer be naked when he was around her, but had to wear his bathing suit. Laura replied, just as solemnly, that she agreed.

  While she massaged the shampoo into his hair, careful not to let the foam get in his eyes, Walter enthusiastically told her about everything he had done with his father that day. In his telling, all of Scott’s contributions were the deeds of a mighty hero. It was too bad, he said, that Daddy always had those unexpected things that made him have to leave for work. Laura clamped her mouth shut as she listened. Walter’s admiring tone in talking about his father was moving yet sad; he didn’t care how often his father let him down, canceled plans, skipped the school play, or went back on his promises. Walter always understood. Laura had confronted Scott more than once over these issues, and the fact that Walter was always so understanding served as his trump card whenever a conflict arose between them: “Hey, I talked it over with Walt and he understood completely.” Laura told him that the fact that a seven-year-old boy idolized his father and accepted all his stupid excuses gave him no right to go on acting like an irresponsible idiot. But this was a path they’d been down many times, and nothing ever changed. Scott would spread his arms, look up at the sky, and say something like “Don’t start pulling all that psychology crap on me. The kid’s smart. He understands how things are.” At the end of these conversations, Laura always had the same thought: Fuck it: you’re the one who married him. Next time, don’t fall for the rebel on the motorcycle.

  There won’t be a next time.

  “Mommy, the water’s getting cold.”

  “Time to get out, then.”

  Walter pulled the plug and the two of them watched the foamy water circle down the drain. Laura turned on the shower to let her boy rinse off. When he was done, she wrapped him in a towel, dried his hair, and hugged him.

  “I’m very proud of you,” she said.

  “What for?”

  For not complaining about that father of yours.

  “For everything.”

  One hour later, Walter was asleep. She had just gotten drawn into a Robin Cook novel when her cell phone began to ring. She instinctively looked at her watch; she knew it was after ten. She ran to the kitchen table and picked up immediately. The call was from the hospital. The nurse on duty in C wing told her wearily that one of her patients wanted to talk to her, and it said in his file that…

  “Yes, yes, put him on, please.”

  “Laura,” Ted muttered. “They’re dead, aren’t they? Holly, Cindy, Nadine—they’re all dead.”

  “Ted, what happened?”

  “I figured it out. I was in my room and the truth just hit me. I understood everything like that. They’re dead.”

  “Your wife and daughters are not dead,” Laura reassured him. “Are you listening to me, Ted? Would I lie about something like this?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I’d never lie about this.”

  “But then—”

  �
�They’re fine.”

  Silence for several seconds.

  “Ted?”

  “I need to see them.”

  “Can we talk about this tomorrow?”

  “No. I need to see them.”

  “Ted, I’ll promise you this: Tomorrow, first thing, I’ll talk to Holly. I’ll tell her you’re better, that you want to see her and the girls, and I’ll see what she says.”

  More silence.

  “Why wouldn’t they want to see me?”

  Laura was sorry she’d had that glass of wine. Between the alcohol and her exhaustion, she wasn’t handling the situation as well as she would have liked.

  “She wants you to be completely better before you see the girls,” Laura said. “All this time—you remember the videos I showed you, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re making progress. You need to be strong. I’ll explain things to Holly and see what she says. I’ll try to convince her it would be good for you to see the girls. I’m sure they’re itching to see you. But you understand how important it is to them for you to get better?”

  When no answer came, Laura insisted, “You do understand, don’t you, Ted?”

  “Sorry I called you at home. But I was convinced that…”

  “Don’t mention it. And don’t worry. I’ll talk with Holly tomorrow and then you and I will see what she says. Sound good?”

  “Thanks, Laura.”

  They hung up. Laura stayed in the kitchen for a while, thinking. She had known this moment would come sooner or later.

  42

  The patio door was back; the pink castle hadn’t taken its place this time. Other than the vast expanse of water, which Ted had now almost grown used to, everything looked normal. The chess box wasn’t even lying by the grill. Ted recalled how, in his last dream, he had watched Holly emerge from the water with Roger, pick up the box, and give him a look of resentment before returning to the depths of the sea. Now he stood facing the glass door, as he had the last time, and reached out to unlatch it. He did so without conviction, knowing that due to some caprice of his dreams he wouldn’t be able to go beyond the ridiculous limit of his own living room. But the door easily slid open. The motion sensor switched on the back porch light, and Ted stopped to look around. The sea was calm, no waves, no salt in the breeze. On the contrary, the only odor he could detect was that of damp woodlands.

  “Still don’t get it?”

  The voice made him jump. He turned to his right. The porch went out pretty far in that direction. Sitting on a folding beach chair was Roger, with his white lab coat and his incandescent smile.

  “Get what?”

  The nurse turned away to look at the sea, his face a dark mask that blended with the night. He didn’t answer.

  “Get what?” Ted repeated.

  The only reply was a slow, sweeping gesture that took in all the boundless ocean.

  Still don’t get it?

  The porch light clicked off. Ted was about to wave his arm to reactivate it when a thin gray patch on the ocean attracted his attention. At first he thought it was an enormous ship, but as his eyes got used to the dark he understood. What he saw wasn’t a boat, wasn’t anything floating on the water. It was the other shore.

  Still don’t get it?

  That’s why there were no waves this time, no sea breeze. This wasn’t the ocean: it was a lake. As he mulled this over, he noticed that the long porch was actually a jetty. A jetty that he’d seen before, of course. He was at Wendell’s house. He walked to the end of the jetty and looked down. Tied up there was the boat he had seen the fellow sitting in the first time.

  Previously, he had seen the waves crashing onto the lawn—he was sure.

  “Last time, I…” He turned to Roger.

  But Roger wasn’t there—only his empty chair. Ted approached it slowly, turning for the first time to look at Wendell’s ultramodern home. He looked at the patio door, responsible for transporting him from his own living room to the home of this man he knew so little about. When he reached the beach chair he saw something lying on it. At first he thought it was the nurse’s white coat, left behind when Roger had been teletransported off somewhere. But that wasn’t it: it was Holly’s red bikini. Ted knelt to pick it up, and he found the cloth damp, as if his ex-wife had just taken it off and left it there.

  Ex-wife.

  His heart pounding, he looked for her in the lake. He pictured her swimming naked.

  But Holly wasn’t there. Only her bikini. He collapsed onto the chair and squeezed the cloth into a ball between his hands. He held it in front of his face and buried his nose in it, seeking the familiar scent of his wife.

  Ex-wife.

  Still don’t get it?

  He sat like this for a long time, enjoying the howling of the wind through the trees, the chirping of the crickets. There was something familiar and reassuring about these woods. After a while he stood up, went to the end of the wooden esplanade, and walked down the gently sloping yard to the lakeshore. He walked around the property. Around front he found the black Lamborghini, as silent as a large, sleeping beast.

  Then he thought he noticed movement in a window of the house. Just a swift-moving hint of shadow, caught by the corner of his eye. Maybe Roger was still around…

  He went to the front door, not completely convinced he wanted to run into the nurse, and when he tested the handle the heavy door swung open.

  And then he saw himself. The Ted waiting for him inside the house was standing in the middle of the Indian rug, aiming the Browning at his head. For a brief instant they stared into each other’s eyes. One of them let out a gasp of surprise when the gun went off and the bullet pegged Ted in the middle of his forehead. He fell heavily onto the rug. Curiously, though the impact of the bullet had knocked him down, he had only felt a slight sting on his forehead. When he tried to touch it, he realized that his arms were two lax tentacles beside his body. The flowing blood blinded his right eye, but even so, he could see the other Ted pacing from side to side.

  His chest vibrated. The other Ted noticed, bent over him, and looked inside his jacket until he found his cell. When he pulled it out, for a fraction of a second the screen remained in view and he could make out Holly’s face.

  The other Ted suddenly looked at him.

  “Who’s Holly? Could this mess up my plans, Wendell?”

  He felt the damp roll of Holly’s bikini in his hand. He tried to squeeze it, as if that might help him keep his grasp on reality, on his memories. But his fingers didn’t respond. All they could do was feel…

  The other Ted was in a frenzy, visibly worried. He was reading the text messages coming in on the phone, and his face was transformed.

  We’re almost there. Time to quit your fishing for the day.

  Outside, a familiar engine sound announced the arrival of the minivan. The other Ted went to the window and looked out.

  “Shit!”

  Seconds later the vehicle stopped. Ted, lying sprawled on the rug, opened his eyes as wide as he could, but he couldn’t quite see the door through which he had entered. He did see the other Ted race across the room to the kitchen and slip out a side door. By now he could hear Cindy’s and Nadine’s unmistakable voices on the other side of the door. He didn’t want them to enter, didn’t want them to find him lying here with a bullet in his forehead. There was a moment of suspense.

  “What’s that piece of paper on the door?” Cindy asked.

  “It’s a note,” her sister answered. “It has Mommy’s name on it.”

  Ted followed their conversation clearly through the door, sprawled on the floor with a bullet in his brain.

  “What does it say, Mommy? We want to know, too.”

  A pause.

  “Why are you crying, Mommy?”

  43

  Ted was sitting on the usual bench. He’d finished his breakfast quickly and was alone now. Mike was one of the first patients to come outside and join him. He saw that Ted was in a bad moo
d.

  “Looks like I’ll have to start sharing my favorite bench.” Mike carried his book with him.

  Ted didn’t answer. He focused his gaze on the basketball court.

  “You aren’t going to tell me life is like a box of chocolates, are you?” Mike said as he sat down next to Ted. “Don’t feel like talking?” He opened his book and began to read.

  After a while he felt a tap on his knee. Mike followed the direction of Ted’s gaze to the Lavender garden door, where Roger stood waving for him to come.

  “What is it?” Mike couldn’t understand his roommate’s reaction.

  “Can’t you see him?”

  “See who? There’s nobody there, Ted,” Mike joked. But when he saw Ted’s expression darken, he decided it wasn’t the best time to make fun of him. “Of course I can see him! It’s that male nurse from B wing who’s always hanging out with your doctor. Roger something.”

  Ted pulled himself together.

  “You feeling okay, buddy?”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Ted stood up. “See you later.”

  He walked over to Roger. Last night’s dream had profoundly disturbed him.

  Still don’t get it?

  Laura was waiting for them in the assessment room. Ted entered with his head down, almost dragging his feet. She had been expecting a man anxious for news from his family, but today Ted wasn’t that man.

  Roger gestured to attract her attention.

  “You’re sure you don’t want…” He held up the restraints.

  Laura shook her head. She had decided it was time to start doing without them.

  “Want me to stick around?” Roger offered.

  “It won’t be necessary.”

  The nurse seemed unconvinced, but at last he withdrew. Ted sat on his usual chair.

  “Ted, look at me. Should we talk later?”

  “No, no. I need to talk to you today more than ever. I’m trying to put my thoughts in order.”

  “Did you take your medicine today?”