She turned her face to his shoulder to hide the smile she could not contain. Yes, she thought happily, it was the answer—let them think her insane!
Chapter Twelve
Julie sat huddled in a corner of the small room. It was quite cold there on the hard clay floor, but she had no wish to share the wooden benches with those sad, disheveled women.
This was the hospital Captain Guthrie had had her taken to. On the outskirts of the Federal capital in Washington, it was drab and dreary, the patients herded about like mindless sheep. Julie had protested in outrage, but the attendants had shoved her along, believing that she was truly demented.
When she refused to remove her dress to put on the gray sacklike garment that was handed to her, a big, heavy-set matron stepped forward to rip her clothes from her. “Now you can walk around naked or put this on,” she said tonelessly. “It don’t make no difference to me.”
So Julie dressed in the loose-fitting garment. It fell to her ankles, had long sleeves, and tied with a short string at the back of her neck. For shoes, she was given cloth booties.
All her combs and pins were taken from her, and she had no idea what had become of her wardrobe trunks.
“I’m not crazy,” she told the matron who watched her carefully as she dressed. “I only pretended to be to get away from those men. If you’ll take me to a doctor, he’ll listen to me and I’ll be discharged.”
The woman gave her a rough shove as she barked, “Get along with you. You sound like every other loony that’s been brought here. I know the story by heart. You ain’t crazy. I’m crazy. Me and everybody else in the world, right?” She threw back her head and laughed.
“You don’t understand,” Julie pleaded desperately, trying to keep her voice even so the woman would see that she was in complete control of herself. “I thought they were going to take me to a regular hospital, and that’s why I went along with them. I had no idea they were bringing me to a place for insane people. I’m not insane. You have to believe me. Take me to a doctor, please…”
She was shoved down a narrow, dimly lit corridor. When they reached a heavy door with a small window at the top, the matron pulled a ring of jingling keys from the pocket of her apron. Searching through them, she found the one she wanted, then inserted it in the hole below the doorknob. She gave it a tug, and the door squeaked open.
Julie gasped at the sight before her: dozens of women, all dressed in the same dress she wore, only theirs were soiled and filthy. Some sat in silence, heads bowed, while others shuffled around and around in a circle, babbling to themselves. Not a one had hair that was not stringy and matted.
“Oh, no!” She tried to back away. “You’re not putting me in there. I refuse—”
The matron placed a beefy hand on her back, and with one quick shove, Julie was sent sprawling to the dirt floor.
The door clanged shut behind her.
Julie crawled to the corner, terrified. But the other women didn’t seem to notice her. They were lost in their own private worlds, oblivious to everything around them.
I could become just like them, she thought wildly. If I don’t get out of here, I’m going to be just like they are.
She realized she was not much better off than when she’d been in the hands of Captain Guthrie.
Locked in a small cabin on the Federal cruiser, food had been brought to her on a tray; she was left alone. She had not seen Captain Guthrie again, and she was glad, for she hated him—not only for what he had done to Derek, but for what he had done to the Ariane as well. She had only to close her eyes to conjure up the terrible sight of the ship as it was blown to bits by the dynamite. One second it was there, proud and regal with sails unfurled, as bands of lavender and purple blended and streaked the sky at dawn.
And then came the ear-shattering explosion, the blast of white smoke that quickly turned red, then black, as pieces of the ship were hurled to the heavens, then fell to the sea like a rain of death. Flames shot upward from what was left of the Ariane—then it all sank slowly from view, gone forever.
Julie turned away from the porthole, sick at heart. Her one consolation was in knowing Derek had probably survived. Also, she believed she was on her way to a real hospital, where she would soon be released and could return to Savannah.
Suddenly a woman screamed and fell to the floor, kicking and screaming. Julie watched in horror as two of the others leaped upon her and began clawing and beating at her. Then several more joined in, and those who did not began to shriek and moan.
Julie pressed her hands against her ears to shut out the horrible sounds. It would not take long for her to go mad if she was forced to endure such an existence.
Suddenly she could stand it no longer. Running to the barred window in the door, she pressed her face against the cold steel and began yelling for someone to please come and help. “They’re going to kill her! Please—someone—anyone—help us!”
A man was at the end of the corridor, carrying a mop and pail. He set them down and began walking toward her quite unhurriedly. She saw him and yelled louder. “Hurry. Please, please hurry.”
As he came closer, fumbling in his pocket for a ring of keys, he looked at her with interest. “You’re new here, aren’t you?” he asked above the din.
“Yes, yes,” she responded. “Hurry, please. They’re going to kill that woman. They’re all attacking her.”
He opened the door and stepped inside. Julie jumped back out of his way as he moved forward and began kicking at the scrapping women. Immediately, as soon as they saw him, they began to shriek with terror, crawling on their hands and knees to get away from him.
The woman who had first screamed and fallen to the floor was crying brokenly, her face claw-marked and streaked with blood. Julie knelt down and tried to touch her, but the woman scrambled away from her, shrieking in terror. “She needs medical attention,” Julie said as she got up. She turned to the man, who was watching, a bored expression on his craggy face. “Aren’t you going to take her to a doctor?”
“Naw, I can’t waste my time taking every loony that gets scratched up a little bit to a doctor.” His eyes roamed over her, and a smile played on his lips. “You sure don’t act crazy.”
“I’m not crazy!” she replied in a firm, sure voice. Then she poured out her story to him, ending with the plea: “Can you help me? I’m going to be crazy if I don’t get out of this place.”
“I ain’t got the authority to let you out.” He licked his lips and ran long, bony fingers through his thick mat of dark hair. “I can make things easier for you, though. I can slip you decent food, see that you get a bath once in a while. Stuff like that.”
“But why would you—” she started to inquire, but then she saw the look in his eyes and backed away quickly. “Oh, no. You can get that notion out of your head right now. I’m not about to bargain with my body for any favors from you or anyone else.”
“So be it,” he snickered. “It’s up to you. I can get what I want from any of these daffies, any time I want. Besides, you’ll come around sooner or later. I just thought it’d be nice to have you while you’re still pretty—and clean. I hate it when they start stinkin’ and get all covered with lice.”
He slapped irritably at his arm. “I’m getting out of here. Every time I walk in this place, things start crawling on me.”
He turned toward the door, and Julie cried, “Don’t we ever get out of here? Even for a breath of fresh air, for God’s sake?”
“Oh, once in awhile when the good ladies from some church drop by, we’ll let you out in the fenced courtyard for a walk.” He stepped outside and slammed the door. Peeking at her through the bars, he said, “You get fed three times a day. Once a month you get a clean gown. That’s about it. I gotta go now.”
“No, wait—” she screamed at his retreating back, but he did not turn. Her fingers clutched the bars, but rattled them only a little, for they were very secure. Then she moved around slowly, surveying the sight before her o
nce again. They were all watching her now, and needles of fear began to stab into her spine. This wasn’t safe, she knew. They might attack her if she did not quiet down.
Moving very cautiously, she picked her way back to the corner and slid down till she touched the hard, cold floor. Wrapping her arms about her knees, she dropped her head forward as though she were sleeping. After a time, the others forgot her and returned to the havens of their own demented worlds.
There was no way Julie could keep up with the passage of time. She lost track of the days as they blended together. With no windows to the outside, she never knew when it was light or dark, and could tell it was daytime only because the trays came then.
At first she’d refused the food, which consisted mainly of gruel and cold water. Finally she was forced to give in to the hungry rumblings of her stomach.
Her hair became matted and dirty like the others, and her gown was soon soiled. There were four buckets in the room for the twenty women to use for their personal needs, and the odor was nauseating. In hopelessness and despair, Julie wondered how much longer she could endure this bleak existence.
Then one day a very young girl of perhaps thirteen or fourteen years of age was brought in by the matron. She was still wearing her street clothes, and the matron yelled at her to start undressing, that she would bring her a gown.
The girl stared around the room with wide, frightened eyes. Her lips trembled but no sound came, and she backed against the wall and stood there, hands at her side, face white and frozen with terror.
Julie’s heart went out to the girl, and she got to her feet and walked over to her. None of the others bothered even to look up. Holding out her hand, she whispered, “Hello. My name is Julie Marshal, and you’ve no need to be afraid of me. You may not believe me, but I’m not insane. I was brought here by mistake.”
The girl reached out to her with the desperation of one who is drowning. “Oh, thank God,” she cried, tears streaming down her pale cheeks. “I don’t know whether to believe you or not, but at least you talk normal. I shouldn’t be here. My stepmother did this to me, to punish me because…” she shook her head in shame, “…I’m in the family way.”
“But why would she have you sent here?” Julie asked, horrified. “Especially if you’re going to have a baby.”
The girl’s eyes were the color of a robin’s egg, and her hair as red as the lights of dawn. She was a pretty creature, Julie thought, her heart aching at the thought of what lay before her.
The girl told Julie that the young man responsible for her “condition” was a Union soldier, and she’d not had time to get word of her plight to him before her stepmother had her committed as insane. “My father’s away fighting too, and she knows he’d never let her do this to me. She’s going to tell him I ran away, and by putting me here, she says she won’t have to bear the shame of my giving birth out of wedlock.” She glanced about wildly. “Oh, God, I can’t have my baby here. I—I’d rather be dead!”
Suddenly she clutched Julie’s shoulders. “They’re going to take my clothes. They already took my combs and jewelry out there. But they didn’t get this.” She reached inside the bodice of her dress and brought out a diamond brooch. “It was given to me by my father. It belonged to my real mother, who died having me. My stepmother will be wild with anger when she discovers I managed to sneak it out with me. She’ll come here looking for it. Hide it for me, please.”
Julie took the brooch and stared at it as she wondered where she could put it. They were allowed no undergarments, and she certainly couldn’t pin it to her gown. Finally she stooped and slid it inside her bootie just as the matron’s footsteps were heard outside the door.
“My name is Pauline Brummett,” the girl told Julie once she’d been stripped, put on her gown, and the matron had departed. “I just don’t know what I’m going to do. I just don’t know…”
She succumbed to tears, and Julie tried to comfort her, but the girl kept on sobbing. Soon, Julie hoped, Pauline would get some control of herself, but as time passed, she realized this was not going to happen.
Pauline would not eat, and after what must have been several days, she stopped talking altogether. Julie tried to coax her to take nourishment, if only for the sake of her baby, but she refused. She sat in the corner, face to the wall, the look in her eyes becoming more blank and empty with each day.
The squeaking of the door awoke Julie one morning, and she stretched as the breakfast trays of gruel were brought in. Reaching beside her to touch Pauline’s shoulder, she told her to wake up. “Maybe you can eat today,” she said hopefully.
The young girl did not stir. Julie rolled her over on her back, then screamed at the sight of the unseeing eyes, the feel of her cold, marblelike skin. Pauline was dead.
The two matrons who’d brought the trays looked up sharply at the sound of Julie’s cries, and, realizing there had been a death, they dropped the food with a clatter. The other women crawled forward on hands and knees to eat it from the floor, cackling with eagerness.
The scene was bedlam. “How’d she die?” one of the matrons demanded of Julie, then, not waiting for an answer, ordered the other one to go fetch an attendant. “We must get her out of here at once. Today’s the day some of the church ladies are coming, and we’ve got to clean everyone up and get them out in the yard.”
Julie was so saddened by the death of her only friend that several moments passed before she realized that here was her opportunity to escape. The door to the cell was standing open. The other patients were fighting with each other over the mess of food spilled on the floor. One matron had left hurriedly, and the other was still bent over Pauline, her back to Julie.
Quickly, quietly, Julie made her move, inching her way across the floor to the open door. Breathing a sigh of relief to find the corridor empty, she saw a passageway leading to the left. There was no telling where it led, but she could not risk going straight down the hall, for the main entrance was that way. The attendant would probably come from that direction.
There was a door at the other end of the corridor, but it was bolted. Behind her, Julie could hear excited voices. The other matron had brought help to remove poor Pauline’s body. Desperately Julie tugged at the bolt, but it would not budge. She slipped down to the floor, lest she be seen standing, and wondered frantically how long it would be till she was missed.
She watched with agony as they carried out Pauline’s body wrapped in a dirty blanket. Then, when the cell door clanged shut and the footsteps stopped echoing down the hall, she moved from where she had silently been crouched.
Inch by inch she made her way toward the front of the building. Finally she could see the door. But just as she was about to spring forward and make a run for it, the sound of high-pitched female voices reached her ears. Trembling, she pressed herself against the wall and hid in the shadows as she watched the church ladies filing into the entrance foyer.
“Oh, we’re so glad you could make it,” she heard someone speak, then leaned her head forward just a bit and recognized the matron she’d first encountered—the one who’d stripped off her dress that memorable day. “Suppose we take a tour this way to begin with. Our patients haven’t been up long. We let them sleep a bit late today. Had a little party for some of them last night, we did.”
Julie made a face, wishing she could just leap forward and expose the old battle-ax for what she really was—a cruel and vicious liar. But there was no time, and who would believe her, anyway? They’d think she was insane. No, she had to take advantage of the situation. The staff was running behind schedule because of Pauline’s death. They hadn’t had time to clean up the patients and get them to the courtyard.
“We have coffee and crumpets waiting,” the matron was saying. “Just follow me.”
Once more Julie found herself alone. Taking a deep breath, she made ready to lunge for her freedom—only to be forced once again to press herself back against the wall as closely as possible, for the hallway se
emed to be filled with matrons and attendants, all moving quickly toward the cells.
“…have to hurry…” she heard one of them whisper nervously. “Miz Brandon said she couldn’t keep them sipping coffee and nibbling crumpets for very long.”
“We’ll change their gowns and get them outside,” another voice said quietly. “No time for a bath. We’ll just make sure none of them ladies gets close to ’em…”
As soon as they passed, Julie made her move. Hurrying to the foyer, she looked outside and felt a wave of panic at the sight of several carriages tied to the gate posts. They had obviously brought the visitors, but were there drivers waiting with the carriages? Of course, she reasoned, there would have to be. And they would see her in her soiled hospital gown and sound an alert! She’d be taken back to her cell and might never have another chance to escape!
Her heart was pounding so loudly she was afraid every one in the building would hear. She had to do something and do it quickly—but what? Then she spotted several of the drivers congregated around a water fountain. There was no way she could escape out the front door.
Glancing about wildly, she saw three other doorways. The visitors had gone through one of them. She hurried to another, opened it, and saw that it led to an office of some sort. It was not a good place to hide, she reasoned, because someone would surely be returning to it shortly.
That left the remaining door. When she opened it, a small shaft of light revealed steps leading downward. There was no other choice but to go down and hide until it was safe to go out the front door.
Carefully, cautiously, she took one step at a time, groping her way along by clinging to the damp walls on each side. Finally she reached the bottom, wrinkling her nose at the foul odors about her. It was so dark that the blackness seemed to reach out and gather her into it, and she quickly sank to the floor to wait, not daring to move about further.
Souls Aflame Page 19