by Mark C. King
“I think he has everything that is needed,” Sutton commented.
“The pencil and paper are already in there?”
Sutton double checked and answered, “Yes.”
“Alright then,” Holmes said and opened the carriage door.
Sutton set Zachary on the floor near the door and gave him a little push. Zachary looked back at him as if to say, ‘Excuse me?’
“Sigmund,” Sutton urged and gave the monkey another little push. This time Zachary hopped out of the carriage and ran across the road towards the asylum.
The two men stared out the window to see if the little animal would do what they wanted. However, despite their best efforts, it wasn’t long before Zachary disappeared into the darkness. He looked to be going the right way before the night overtook him, but now they would have to wait to see if he would accomplish his mission. Hopefully the monkey would return with a note from their friend.
20.
Sigmund needed to stay awake. He figured that after his first night’s experience – with the cold and uncomfortableness – staying awake wouldn’t be an issue. He was wrong. The lack of sleep mixed with the stress of the day made his eyes very heavy.
Meeting Basil was a blessing. The man was friendly, informative, and, well, normal. Not in a million years would Sigmund have thought he would be able to form any kind of bond with a patient. His few preconceptions of the insane were changing quickly. Such a broad brush is used to paint the idea of a patient, but the truth is far more diverse.
Standing up, Sigmund paced his small confines in order to fight fatigue. Above the sound of the gusty wind, grunts and the clinking of chains could be made out from his neighbor’s room. Occasional wails and cries could be heard from other patients trying to get through another night in Bedlam. Even with all this, fatigue fought hard against him.
A high pitched hmm-hmm grabbed his attention and immediately removed his fatigue. The sound was familiar and a most welcomed one. It was his monkey, Zachary! Sigmund stepped to the window of his door and could just make a little black silhouette in the darkness of the hallway. There was no mistaking his little friend. “Psst. Zachary, I’m here.”
A more excited ohh-ohh sounded and Sigmund backed away from the window as Zachary jumped up. From there, he leapt into Sigmund’s arms. “It’s good to see you too,” Sigmund said with a big smile.
A very unexpected wave of emotion hit Sigmund. He was only going on his second night in the asylum, but the loneliness, the sadness of his surroundings, and the unfounded fear – which, as with most fears, increased at night – that somehow he would be abandoned to this place welled up in him. He fought back tears as he held his friend. Stroking Zachary’s back, Sigmund took several deep breaths to calm himself. The fact that Zachary was here was proof that he was not forgotten. It was proof that Holmes and Sutton were just outside doing what they could to help.
With these comforting thoughts, he started going through the small pack that Zachary was wearing. “So, what have your brought me?”
Inside he found four items. A lock pick set, a blackjack – which was unexpected, but welcomed – a piece of paper, and a pencil. Placing the items on the bed, he sat down next to them. He placed Zachary on the floor who immediately started to examine the room. The monkey was particularly interested in the bucket.
“I would stay out of there if I were you,” Sigmund advised.
Taking up the pencil and paper, he wrote a note:
Found my first clue today. More research needed.
Thank you for the items, I’ll make use of at least one of them tonight.
When I get out of here, please have a nice meal prepared.
-Sigmund
With the message finished, he placed it carefully in Zachary’s pack. “Alright, boy, it is time for you to go.”
The monkey jumped up to Sigmund’s arms. “You did good, Zachary. I will get you a nice treat once I’m out of here.”
Zachary made a happy eek sound in recognition of the word ‘treat’.
Taking him to the window of his door, he instructed, “Go back to Richard now. Go.”
The monkey gave a look at Sigmund and then turned and jumped out the window back to the dark hallway. Sigmund watched as best he could as the dark shape of his friend headed towards the far wall and up to a ledge. From there, he disappeared through one of the missing panes of glass.
Sigmund was alone again, but his spirits were boosted by the visit of his friend. With renewed energy, he placed the blackjack in his pocket and grabbed the lock pick set to start on his door. He wanted to break into the records room and examine the release papers. If Basil was correct, there should not be many records for the last several months, not enough to account for the number of patients that they had been told were released.
His room was dark which made the lock picking process extra difficult. While making his attempt, he stopped when he thought he heard something. Was Zachary coming back?
Squeak
Of all the sounds in the asylum, this new one stood out. How quickly one becomes accustomed to their surroundings. He wasn’t sure what it was yet, but he knew that it definitely was not Zachary.
Squeak
It was louder this time. Did someone hear him trying to open his door? Putting the lock picks in his pocket, he quickly went over to his bed and pretended to sleep. His heart beat fast, but he was at least able to keep his breathing calm.
Squeak
It was close. Sigmund strained to hear anything else, but nothing could be heard beyond the regular nighttime sounds.
Squeak
It was right outside his door and now he could hear accompanying footsteps. His body was alive with nervous energy, but he fought to stay still. The sound of a key in a lock could be heard, but it was more distant than expected. It was not his lock that was being opened. It was…The Beast of Bedlam’s?
Sigmund still did not move, careful to not draw attention to himself in any way. He knew that all punishment in this place would be severe. The sound of his neighbor’s door opening could be clearly heard and this was followed quickly by a reaction from The Beast. The grunts turned to louder growls and the sound of the chains amplified. What could they be doing at this hour?
Straining to hear, Sigmund could pick up a whispered voice, but could not make out any of the words. Then, the most unexpected thing happened, The Beast’s noises stopped. Becoming less concerned for himself and more concerned for his fellow patient, Sigmund warred against staying put or trying to see what was happening. Knowing that there was little he could do with his door still locked, he remained in bed, his senses trying to soak in any information they could glean.
Continued sounds of movements could be heard from the neighboring room, but nothing to give away what was actually going on. Another minute went by in anxious ignorance. Then there was the sound of the door closing, locking, and…
Squeak
It started again. A few moments later, Sigmund heard it once more, this time farther down the hall. Whoever it was, was heading away. Jumping out of bed, Sigmund pushed his face up to his door window to try and see something. The angle was sharp and it limited his view, but he could make out part of a dark form pushing something – a wheeled-chair. A moment later they were out of view and Sigmund couldn’t see anything. His heart continued to race with excitement, while his mind raced with confusion. What was going on?
Letting a little time go by, he went back to trying to unlock the door. His excitement and the darkness conspired to make it a tedious and long process. When it finally gave in to his efforts, he had to fight not to give out a celebratory yelp. Pushing the door open, he quickly exited and went straight to The Beast’s window. Nothing could be seen in the cell due to the darkness, so in a voice that was barely above a whisper, Sigmund said into the door window, “Hey. Hey! Anybody home?”
No response. He turned to look down the hall and could see very little. No lights, other than what could seep in from t
he windows, illuminated the corridor. Cautiously, Sigmund started moving, heading towards the double doors at the far end. He kept his steps as quiet as he could, not knowing where the unknown person or The Beast were. Meeting either one alone in the dark was not a pleasant thought. A few sounds could be heard from the doors he passed – cries, laughs, and whimpers – and he found them even more haunting at this closer distance. The pain, the madness, the whatever it was that caused these poor souls to cry out in the night.
Sigmund reached the double doors and tested the handle – locked. This had to be the way that they went, he thought, although he still struggled to find a reason. Perhaps some kind of therapy? What would be done at night that couldn’t be done during the day? He soon gave up trying to come up with an answer, he simply needed more information, so he focused on unlocking the doors.
Once again it took him longer than he thought it should. He had been in many situations during his thieving career that put him under pressure, but nothing like this. It wasn’t just the unknown, it was the unpredictable – normal people act in normal, predictable ways. There were not many of those here. The chance of the unexpected was high and impossible to prepare for.
The lock finally gave and Sigmund opened one of the two doors slowly. The other side, the second floor landing, was just as dark as the hallway. Sigmund kneeled in the opened door and listened for any sounds.
Squeak
There it was! It was faint and came from the first floor, but the sound was unmistakable. He moved towards the stairs but stopped all of a sudden when he heard another noise coming from behind one of the rooms nearest to where he was skulking. He looked at the two doors on the second floor landing to determine where the sound came from. He saw a faint glow leaking under the non-dining room entrance and heard more noises, some sort of grunting and excited whispers. He knew from Basil that the room behind that door was a kind of community area.
Now what? The unknown person and The Beast were downstairs, but there was also something happening right near him.
As curious as Sigmund was about what was happening below, he decided to investigate the second floor room. Perhaps, if it was nothing, he could still catch up with the pair below.
He quietly approached the door and the sounds grew a little louder. The whispering remained excited, but not loud enough to understand what was being said. The grunts were unintelligible but now Sigmund could determine that they were being made by a woman.
At the door, he placed his ear against it and could make out a few of the whispered words.
“Quiet...” “Stop…” “Don’t worry…”
Sigmund turned the door handle slowly until the latch was free of the frame. He prayed that the hinges wouldn’t squeak as he slowly pushed it open. There was a hint of sound made, but not enough to alert the room’s occupants. After one step inside, the whispered voice could be heard much more clearly.
“Stop struggling. It’s not like we haven’t done this before.”
There was a candle on a small table that let out a weak light. It was just enough for Sigmund to see a man pushing against a woman along the wall. The man’s hands were on her wrists pinning them by her head. The woman would turn her head to the left and then the right, grunting at the assault. Her eyes glistened in the light and Sigmund could see them shifting focus constantly. This woman was a patient! The man’s form, although his back was mostly towards Sigmund, was recognizable. It was Mr. Baker, one of the orderlies.
Many thoughts went through Sigmund’s mind in that moment. How could anyone take advantage of a patient like this? How could they live with themselves? What if someone tried to take advantage of his niece because of her disability? All these thoughts led to one clear feeling – anger.
Sigmund scanned the room for a weapon and found many possibilities. A chair seemed a good choice but at that moment he remembered the blackjack in his pocket. He removed the small leather bar and felt the heft of the weighted end. With weapon in hand, he moved quickly and silently towards Mr. Baker. It took a mere two seconds to cross the distance between them, and in that time Sigmund had to talk himself out of killing the man multiple times.
Barely slowing down as he neared, he raised the blackjack and brought it down hard on the back of the orderly’s head. The man immediately fell to the ground, unconscious. Sigmund stared at the fallen monster and took deep breaths to calm the fury that pumped in his veins.
The woman stayed where she was against the wall and looked around the room absently. Whether she knew what had just happened or not, Sigmund wasn’t sure. He was certain, though, that she was not happy with what was about to happen if he hadn’t interrupted. Then Sigmund remembered the orderly alluding to the fact that this had happened before. A new wave of grief – and anger – flooded his system. This poor girl. She is here for help and instead receives unspeakable abuse and torment.
Bedlam Asylum was a government funded facility and the government would become well aware of the atrocities going on here once he got out, Sigmund thought darkly.
He wanted to hug this girl, to comfort her from this dreadful experience, but he didn’t. Instead, Sigmund took the girl’s hand with a careful touch. He didn’t want to alarm her or give her reason to think that he would hurt her. Speaking softly and kindly, he said, “Please, come with me. Let’s find where you belong.”
The woman didn’t look at Sigmund, but also didn’t pull her hand away. Despite his gentle urging she stayed still, eyes roaming the room. When her gaze fell on the unconscious orderly, the man that was just attacking her and had evidently attacked her before, her eyes stopped moving. There was a brief moment of focus and then she fell to her knees next to Mr. Baker and started slamming her fists into his body. She made grunting sounds with each hit, teeth bared in pure fury.
Sigmund wasn’t sure what to do. He didn’t blame the anger and retribution she was dealing to this man, but he wondered if she would ever stop. Her arms raised and fell repeatedly, hitting the orderly all over, his chest, his stomach, his face. After a particularly vicious hit to the groin, Sigmund pulled her off of him.
She struggled for a minute, her thin nightgown and hair damp from perspiration, but eventually calmed down. Sigmund brushed the hair from her face and saw that the fury was gone. She was back to a state of seeming ignorance. Again taking her hand, he was now able to guide her towards the door. Exiting the room, he led her to the women’s wing and wondered if he would need to pick the lock. He was happy to find that the double doors were open.
The other side was a hallway that was nearly identical to the men’s wing – at least, it looked similar in the darkness. At this point, Sigmund wasn’t sure where to take her. Looking at her, he said, “It’s time for sleep. Do you know where your bed is?”
The woman still didn’t look at him, but started walking down the hallway. He followed, curious if she knew where she was going, and about half way down, she turned to a door, opened it and walked inside. Sigmund stayed at the doorway and watched as her dark figure walked to an empty bed and laid down.
Back on the landing, Sigmund closed the women’s wing doors and then leaned his back against them. Adrenaline was starting to ebb from his system and the fatigue he had earlier came back with a vengeance. There was at least one more task he needed to perform. What would he do with Mr. Baker?
Back in the community room, the orderly was right where Sigmund had left him – unconscious on the floor. He regarded the man, no, not a man, this creature, this monster that preys on the helpless, and felt an increasing hatred for him. Blood now trickled out of Mr. Baker’s nose and bruises grew on his face from the pummeling he had received. Despite the pitiful appearance, part of Sigmund still wanted to hurt the man further, maybe even kill him. It was a sobering thought, one that made Sigmund question his own morality. Taking a life is no small matter. However, this man had been caught trying to rape a woman and had said he’d done it before. Surely any punishment would be deserved.
Afte
r a mighty internal struggle, Sigmund decided to let the orderly live and let the police handle him. In the shape Mr. Baker was in, he would be unable to attack anyone for a while and by then, Sigmund would be out of this place and would have him arrested. Somehow it didn’t feel like enough punishment, but it was a start.
Sigmund now needed to decide what to do with the unconscious body. Leaving him where he was would raise many alarms and might make his future nightly investigations more difficult. How could such a beating be explained? Then it hit him; there was a way.
Taking one of the ankles of the orderly, Sigmund dragged him towards the door. He wasn’t at all careful to dodge tables and chairs and enjoyed the bumps that the orderly took as he knocked into obstacles. Outside of the room, on the second floor landing, Sigmund dragged the body to the edge of the stairs. Pausing to listen, he was satisfied that no one was around. A quick search of the orderly’s pockets turned up exactly what Sigmund was looking for, a flask. Opening it, he took a whiff and scrunched his face in disgust. Sigmund was not a refined drinker, but this drink smelled like it was made in a bedpan. Cheaper than cheap. Before putting the cap back on, he poured a bit on the orderlies clothes, and then replaced the receptacle.