Lovelady

by Wynne, Marcus

  “You don’t understand anything about me,” I said.

  “Defiant to the end,” she said. “So very heroic. I admire that in you. I wish my father had been like you. We’ll talk about this more, later. Let’s look around.”

  She walked off the stage, her laughter ringing in my ears. We went to a small control room at the back, with a big glass window looking out onto the theater. She turned on the lights in the control room. There were elaborate control panels for cameras, sound, lighting, a projection system, computers. A rack of monitors was mounted on the back wall, away from the main control panels. Each monitor was connected to a camera in the cells down the hallway.

  There were others in the cells.

  A blond young woman in a halter top and cut off jean shorts, bare foot, pacing her cell.

  A little boy, no more than four or five years old, crying and crying.

  A black man with a spectacularly lean and muscled build, bare chested and wearing baggy pants exposing his boxers. He glared up at the camera with undisguised hate.

  Armando yanked me away from the monitors. Miss Emerald stood just out of kicking range.

  “You’re not alone, Frank. Plenty of company. Maybe you’d like to meet them?”

  She edged past me and went to one monitor and tapped the screen. Curled up on the bed was a blond girl. Her belly was swollen with late pregnancy.

  “Look closely, Frank,” Miss Emerald said.

  She zoomed the camera in on the girl’s face.

  It was Luella Pound.

  “So now you have one answer,” she said. “What are you going to do?”

  …what are you hearing, Frank…

  …there she is, and you know, you’re going to marry her…both of them are your brides, one for fucking and one for talking to, which one is which, Frank?…

  …where are you, Frank? Come up to me…”

  “What do you want?” I said.

  “What are you hearing, Frank?” she said. “Hearing voices, that’s a symptom of schizophrenia. Unless you’re the religious sort and hear spirits talking to you. Do you hear spirits of the air talking to you, Frank? What would they say to a man like you? I’m very curious now. You have so many hidden secrets. What I wouldn’t give to be in your head right now…it explains so many things.”

  She paused.

  “Would you like to talk to Luella, Frank? She likes to talk to men, it makes her feel protected. Would you like to protect her?”

  Cacophony in my head.

  “Could you protect her? I don’t think so. Not in your present state. You can’t even protect yourself. Speak to me, Frank. I want to hear what you have to say.”

  “I’m not afraid of any of you,” I said.

  Armando and his cronies laughed.

  “Oh, yeah, you’re not afraid,” Armando said. “Fucking tough guy.”

  “Who are you talking to, Frank?” Miss Emerald said. “Us, or them?”

  She knew.

  “I think you’ll have to go back in your cell, Frank. I’m going to call a very good doctor I know to come and watch you. He’ll know what to do. Since you don’t want to tell me. Are you sure you won’t speak to Luella? It would be nice if you would.”

  She led us out of the control room and across the floor of the theater. “You’ll be back, Frank. I think you’d be most entertaining.”

  We went through the double doors and back down the hallway and stopped outside a cell door. It wasn’t mine. Miss Emerald punched in a key code and opened the door, then stood to one side while Armando thrust me forward like meat on a stick.

  Luella Pound looked at us in fear.

  “Please…” Luealla said.

  “Don’t listen to them,” I said. “They won’t shut up. I’m going to kill all of them.”

  Miss Emerald and her men laughed.

  “You make no sense at all, you stupid maricon,” Armando said.

  “What do you want?” Luella said.

  …what do you want, Frank? Do you want to fuck her, like you want to fuck little Sarah? Pregnant girls are so nice and juicy…”

  “Don’t be afraid, Luella,” I said. “I’m a friend…”

  Miss Emerald burst out in disbelief. “Oh, Frank! So brave, so noble, so incredibly pathetic! I wouldn’t believe it if I didn’t see it with my own eyes. I don’t think so much of you now.”

  “Please, Miss Emerald,” Luella said. “Please, don’t hurt me…”

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” Miss Emerald said. “At least not until we have my baby.”

  Luella screamed. “It’s my baby! It’s my baby!”

  Miss Emerald’s mouth twisted with distaste. “They’re my babies. All of them.” She looked at me. “Nice blond babies, Frank. They fetch the best price. Whether it’s to desperate couples or people with other interests. No one cares if it’s the child of a whore. Could you care for the child of a whore, Frank?”

  Luella threw her head back and howled like a wounded animal. Armando yanked me out of the chamber and they swung shut the door on the girl’s frenzied screams.

  “It’s my baby! It’s my baby!”

  …it’s your baby, Frank, and they’re going to kill it, what are you going to do about it now, Frank, can you hear me Frank, tell me where you are…

  They shoved me back into my cell and forced me to my knees. Leroy held his pistol to my head while they took off the cuffs, and then Armando loosened the noose and lifted it from my neck.

  “Take a nap, maricon,” Armando said. He slammed the cell door shut.

  I was alone with the voices in my head.

  The compartment in my brain where the special operator lived worked on sorting out what I’d seen. This was big. There was money behind it. You didn’t just buy off the shelf the kind of equipment I’d seen here, in the cells, in the auditorium. They acted with impunity, snatching me, the people in the other cells. There was no easy escape out of here. I stood and pressed my hands against the wall to work the rage out of my muscles.

  I so wanted to kill someone.

  …Frank, where are you, talk to me…talk to us, Frank, tell us about your baby, Frank, and your little white girl…

  I could beat this. I’d been down this road before and I knew where I was going. There was still time and I still had some control. I could do this. I breathed, deeply and thoroughly, then stood and faced the camera.

  “Let me go, with the girl, and I’ll let you live,” I said.

  The laughter inside my head was deafening.

  iii.

  I don’t know how much time passed before the door opened again. Armando and his team entered cautiously. Someone new followed them in. He was tall, with the build of an athlete gone to seed with a big belly hanging over his khakis and stretching tight a rumpled light denim shirt. He wore thick glasses and his longish hair was disarrayed. He looked like some kind of doctor. Miss Emerald stood beside him.

  “I’ve brought someone to see you, Frank,” she said. “A friend.”

  “Whose friend?” I said.

  Petey hit me with the cattle prod and I went down.

  “Don’t do that,” the doctor said. “I need to talk to him.”

  “Sorry, Doc,” Armando said. “Hey, maricon. You get silly, you’ll get fucked.”

  I lay on the floor until the numbness in my legs went away.

  “He’s going to go for it,” Petey warned.

  They arrayed themselves for a fight. I curled my feet beneath me and got up slowly, then backed away and sat on the bed shelf. “You don’t mind if I sit, do you, Doctor?”

  …good one, Frank…get him closer, where you can get your finger into his eyes…he knows about you, he won’t do it…Frank, we’re coming to find you, come up to me…

  The doctor seemed nervous. Maybe he wasn’t as much a pet as Miss Emerald thought. But then, he was here, with human beings held captive, and it didn’t seem to bother him much.

  “So much for the Hypocrite Code, huh, doc?” I said.


  “Are you hearing voices?” he said. His voice was unpleasant, nasal and strained.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said. “The only voices I hear are those of people keeping me here against my will. You’re a doctor. What are you going to do about that?”

  “I’ve looked at the tapes,” the doctor said. “You appear to be having auditory or visual hallucinations.”

  “Are you a hallucination?” I said. “Come over here and we’ll see if you’re a hallucination or not.”

  “Watch your mouth,” Armando said.

  “Do you take medications?” the doctor said.

  “What do you get out of this?” I said.

  Armando and his men laughed nastily. I got the picture.

  “It’s the girls, huh?” I said. “Can’t score on your own, got to have these assholes score for you, is that it?”

  “Hold him down on the bed,” the doctor said.

  It’s hard to subdue a healthy man, even if you have three men to do it. The cattle prod helped them, rendering my muscles useless long enough for the doctor to slip a needle into my arm. I felt warmth at the injection site. They released me and sprang backwards, giving me room. The doctor gave me a dispassionate appraisal.

  “He’ll be relaxed, now,” he said. “The Ativan will calm him down, but to deal with the hallucinations we need to give him ten milligrams of Zyprexa, once a day. You’ll have to throw the pill down his throat and wash it down. I don’t have any liquid Zyprexa.”

  He handed a pill bottle to Miss Emerald. She weighed it in her hand.

  “What do you think, Frank?” she said. “Do you want to be rid of your voices? I wonder what they say to you. You’re no use to me while you tilt with hidden voices. I want you sane and capable of making decisions. At least until you decide…”

  “Decide what?” I slurred.

  She tossed the pill bottle to Armando.

  “Hold him,” the doctor said. “Let me do it, you might get it in his windpipe.”

  They pinned me again, an easier job now that the powerful tranquilizer had kicked in. I felt weak and flaccid. They held my mouth open and I quit fighting and swallowed the pill.

  “It may take several days,” the doctor said. “Zyprexa doesn’t take affect right away. It takes time to build up in the blood stream. You should see some relief in a few days, no more than five. But he’ll be symptomatic till then.”

  Miss Emerald touched him on the chest. “Thank you, Glen.”

  …Frank, we’re not going to go away, you know how this works, we won’t be held at bay…Frank, come up to me, lead us to you…we’re coming…

  “You too, Glen,” I said. “I’m going to kill you, too.”

  His face twisted as though he’d just stepped in dog shit. “I’ll be watching you beg for your life, fool.”

  He left the room behind Miss Emerald. The last one out was Armando, who pursed his lips and blew a kiss at me. “Later, my little bitch. Maybe when you’re sleeping I’ll slip my dick up your ass.”

  I was alone with my voices.

  Again.

  The doctor was right. It would take time for the Zyprexa to kick in. Ten milligrams was twice my normal dose, so that would cut the time some. I knew it was only my imagination, but it seemed that the din in my head had lessened. Maybe it was the Ativan.

  I had to wait.

  And plan.

  …plan what, Frank? You’re going to die here, a lonely voice in the dark, just like us, haunting where we can…you’re not going to save anyone, you can’t, what do they do with those babies, why, they fuck them, Frank, and sometimes they burn them with cigarettes, can you hear them cry, and it happens over and over and over again, from right here, just down the hall, and there’s nothing you can do about it, Frank, come up to me, Frank, I can’t find you unless you help me, something is blocking me, Frank, who do you think you are, you’re not a father, you can’t save your children, none of them, you’re just flesh wrapped around a twisted spirit and soon that’s all you’ll be, just like us, Frank…just like us…

  They’d shut up soon enough.

  The video camera’s red light gleamed like an infernal eye. Then it melted like a Salvador Dali painting, and reshaped itself.

  What was I going to do?

  I didn’t know.

  Yes, I did.

  I was going to kill every last one of them. And I was going to bring the people in the cells out. That’s what I was going to do. The how of it would come to me when it could. All my scenarios circled around me overpowering my guards, but they were well prepared for that. My best chance was to play along, see how much slack I could create, see if I could position myself for an escape. To get help and come back.

  But first I had to get out.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  i.

  I passed the days in dreamless sleep.

  Twice a day Glen the doctor came and gave me a shot. There was no fighting them. Not right now. Even Armando left me alone. They brought sandwiches for meals. I drank tap water. I forced myself to exercise, to fight off the lethargy of drugs with pushups and crunches. The unblinking red eye of the camera was my constant companion.

  Frank, where are you? Come up to me…what about the children, Frank? What about the girls?…

  The voices were beginning to fade.

  I lay back on the bed, my hands folded behind my head, and willed myself to relax.

  …we’re still here, we’re not going away, you can’t keep us at bay…

  But there was one voice that seemed strangely clear.

  Frank, where are you?

  Rake?

  Come up to me, Frank, you know how, come up so I can follow the signal line back to you…

  I willed myself still as adrenaline raced through me.

  Rake.

  I took deep slow controlled breaths and became even more relaxed, calming my mind, ignoring the dull buzz of distant voices in my head, and saw myself rising up as I had in my dreams, up out of my body and through the building up into the night sky…

  Rake?

  Frank? Just relax, let me come to you…

  I felt his presence and looked back along his signal line, and then we were there, connected, two spirits sharing one line of intention, riding the same signal line, and I could see all he’d done and he saw into me and back down the signal line to the recent past and we were both there…

  Frank, we’re coming, I have the line now, can you get out of the cell?

  They only take me out, no way out o f the cell…

  We’ll come for you, we’ll find a way, who are the others you’re thinking of?…I see the image in your mind. We’re coming…we’re coming…

  The door swung open abruptly, snatching me back to the here and now.

  …Frank?…

  “You jacking off, maricon?” Armando said. “Get out of bed, dirty man.”

  They were all there. Petey with his cattle prod, Leroy and Armando with pistols. Leroy had a set of handcuffs dangling from his finger. Miss Emerald was dressed for a cocktail party in a little black dress that cost six months salary, a simple string of pearls, Italian heels. Her hair was swept back and pulled up.

  I stood up. My mind was still fogged with drugs and my sudden withdrawal from the connection to Rake.

  “Don’t fight, Frank,” Miss Emerald said. “We have no time and less patience.”

  Petey came forward with his cattle prod.

  “Take it easy,” I said. “I’m not going to fight you.”

  “That’s smart,” Miss Emerald said. “I’m proud of you.”

  Armando puckered his lips and blew me a kiss. Petey and Leroy laughed.

  “Too bad,” Leroy said. “Turn around, motherfucker.”

  He cinched the handcuffs on too tight.

  “Loosen them up,” I said. “You’re cutting off my circulation.”

  Leroy started to say something, but Miss Emerald cut him off. “Loosen them.”

  He grumbled, bu
t he unlocked the cuffs and eased them open slightly. Miss Emerald turned and walked out and we followed her down the hallway and to the double doors. A big man I’d never seen before, muscled like a body builder and dressed in a dark business suit over a snug fitting turtle neck, opened the door for us.

  The theater was full. Each chair occupied. I was appalled by what I saw. Men and women in evening dress, as though they were attending a concert or the ballet, their middle aged faces well tended; a smattering of younger faces marked with anticipation, nervousness, and hunger. A single bright stark light lit the stage.

  Miss Emerald strode like a queen among supplicants through the small crowd, acknowledging their greetings with a simple nod. All eyes were on me. I felt it. They stared, excited and frightened, as they’d stare at a tiger on a leash. They murmured among themselves and that fed the buzz in my head, the constant whisper just below my conscious attention.

  …who is he, is he going to die, is he one of the entertainers, Frank, we’re coming, no one is coming, there’s only us and we’ll always be with you…

  They paraded me around the stage, past the control room where black clad technicians looked up, startled, as we passed. There was a private box close to the stage with three rows of three seats each. Manfred Wollheim sat there beside a girl whose expensive dress couldn’t hide her age: sixteen, maybe seventeen at the oldest.

  “You look very butch, Frank,” Wollheim said.

  “Nice to see you, Man. Maybe we’ll talk later on,” I said.

  “I’m not the one you have to convince. She is.”

  “Convince of what?” I said.

  He laughed and draped his arm around the girl’s shoulders. “Why, whether to kill you or to keep you, Frank.”

  Miss Emerald entered the box and her boys herded me into place in the front row. Petey and Leroy sat on either side of me. Armando sat right behind me and kept his revolver pressed against the back of my head. Miss Emerald and Wollheim and his underage date sat in the top row. I relaxed as best I could. No chance right now for a break. It was time to sit, take stock, and seize opportunity when and if it came my way.

  “Do you enjoy the theater, Frank?” Miss Emerald asked from behind me. “You seem like a cultured man. Have you ever been to the theater?”