Whispers of Bedlam Asylum (Sigmund Shaw Book 2)

by Mark C. King

  The needle hung inches from her face, shaking as the two of them struggled in opposite directions. While both her hands were occupied with his one, Thursby’s free hand closed around Charlotte’s throat. She still focused on the syringe, but the lack of oxygen was becoming a greater concern by the second. Something had to change, and soon. With desperation, she swung her entire body to the side, breaking the grip on her neck, but weakening her grip on the arm with the syringe. With terror, she felt a pinch in her side as the needle pierced her.

  Letting go of the wrist she looked up as Thursby backed away from her. “What have you done?” she asked desperately.

  “I have overcome another obstacle, Miss Charlotte.”

  She felt strange. Whether or not the injection could work that fast, she had no idea. Nothing about this situation would make her feel anything but strange. The unknown of her immediate future made her stomach ill, her vision swam, and she had to sit before she passed out. She managed to find the edge of the patient bed and sat down hard. Just the thought of this chemical flowing through her system, perhaps changing her brain was horrifying.

  She looked over at Sigmund and Xavier, slumped on the floor, and struggled not to vomit. Somewhere, deep in the back of her mind, a thought struggled forward – your article will not be written, these people will not be helped, Jena and Anne will not be released.

  She didn’t notice anything that Thursby was doing in those instants and did not even react when she finally realized that he was standing in front of her with rag in hand. The rag approached her face and she welcomed the black release it gave to the light of fear.

  39.

  Three Years Prior, Late Spring…

  At the hospital, Silvester Thursby was examined and found to have no broken bones. The pain seemed to be related to strained back muscles so they injected him with opium to allow him to rest.

  When he awoke, he was in a dark room. It wasn’t his own and it felt…large. As sleep gave way to consciousness, he remembered the day. Turning his head left and right, he verified that he was still in the hospital, in a room with many beds. To his delight, he could make out in the bed next to his that Amberlyn was there. She looked to be asleep, calm, and beautiful.

  Cautiously, Silvester tried to roll to his side to face her bed. The pain that was there earlier could almost not be felt. There were twinges, but not nearly what they were and not enough to prevent him from lying on his shoulder.

  “Amberlyn,” he whispered. She didn’t stir.

  A louder whisper, “Amberlyn.” Her face twitched.

  “Amberlyn,” even louder this time. Her eyes opened, blinked, and turned towards his voice.

  “I was so worried. How do you feel?” he asked with some emotion leaking into his voice.

  She continued to look at him, or at least in his direction. Her eyes seemed unfocused in the low light of the recovery room. Silvester waited for her response and was surprised when she turned her head away.

  “Amberlyn, what is wrong?”

  She didn’t turn her head back this time, just looked at the ceiling.

  “Are you mad at me? I’m so sorry, sweetheart. Please forgive me,” he pleaded.

  She didn’t move, just lay there with eyes open, staring into space.

  His pleas grew louder and more desperate but her reaction remained the same – emotionless. A nurse came in and told Silvester that he needed to be quiet, that he, and the other patients, needed rest.

  He ignored her and kept pleading with Amberlyn to look at him, to talk with him. When Silvester felt a pinch in his arm, he looked over and found the nurse injecting him with something.

  “What are you doing?” he yelled at her.

  “Just a little something to help you to sleep.”

  “No!” he yelled, but already felt the effects of the drug.

  “No,” much weaker this time.

  “Amberlyn…”

  Opening his eyes into brightness caused him to blink several times before his vision could adjust. Silvester’s mind adjusted quicker and he turned to face Amberlyn’s bed. There was some stiffness in his back, but he didn’t care. Before he could even focus his eyes on her, he called out, “Amberlyn, please talk to me.”

  There was no response despite the fact that he could start to see that she was in her bed, just like the night before. Her eyes were open and randomly looking at things in the room.

  “Why won’t you talk to me?” Silvester pleaded.

  A female voice from behind said, “Mr. Thursby?” He rolled to his other side and saw a nurse standing there – a different one than the night nurse, thankfully. Her face was kind, a motherly type with a constant ‘I’m sorry’ expression on her face. “Mr. Thursby, you seem quite agitated. Can I help you with something?”

  Pointing behind him towards Amberlyn, he said, “I’m just trying to talk with her. We are courting.”

  The face of the nurse took on a sad expression and, Silvester didn’t know why, but it scared him deeply. “Mr. Thursby, I’m afraid she is in no condition to talk right now. She has a very severe head injury and was without oxygen for some period of time. Her mind, it… it needs to heal.”

  “How long?”

  “It is not my place to say. The doctor will be along soon and he will have much better information than I can give you.” The nurse put a hand on his shoulder and said, “I am right outside the door, so please let me know if I can get anything for you.” She walked away and Silvester rolled back over to look at his almost-fiancé.

  The doctor did come later that morning and told Thursby that it would be at least several hours before they would know anything as to the state of Amberlyn’s mind.

  Hours of no change turned into days. Days turned to weeks. Weeks became months. Amberlyn’s mind was gone.

  Both Silvester’s family and Amberlyn’s exhausted their savings trying to care for her but it came to a point that they couldn’t continue. They had her admitted to Bedlam Asylum under the care of Doctor Madfyre.

  The love and guilt of Silvester couldn’t keep him away from her, so he became an orderly at the asylum. His excellent care and treatment of the patients, one of whom was his Amberlyn, made his rise to Head Orderly a quick one.

  One evening, Madfyre and him shared a drink and their conversation turned towards the healing of the patients. Thursby would not relent to a hopeless answer and it was that night that Dr. Madfyre talked about his experiment with Priscilla, a gifted piano player. He talked about how his serum made a difference but that the unforeseen effects were too horrible to repeat.

  It was the first, and only, glimmer of hope for Amberlyn that Silvester had found. He grasped it with all his force and became determined to take up where Madfyre had left off. He didn’t care how long it would take, he would find a way.

  40.

  Thursby stood in his lab and looked at the three unconscious individuals. He thought about how fortunate he was to detect them as he was bringing Xavier down the stairs. A sharp intake of breath followed by the sound of a quick movement was his first clue. Once he was through the lobby and on the other side of the entrance to the corridor, he again heard movement. At that point there was no telling who it was, or why, but it was out of place and of concern.

  At the basement stair doorway, he placed a crossbar of wood that would be very difficult to breakthrough. He hoped it would be enough to deter whomever was about. Once in his lab, after closing and locking the door, he would stop what he was doing every minute or so and listen for sounds of pursuers. Just as he was starting to feel confident, he heard what he hoped he wouldn’t – someone was definitely following him.

  The more he listened the more it sounded like multiple people, stumbling down the hallway. How did they get through the blocked basement door?

  Regardless of how many or who, the question then was what he should do. It was evident that people knew, or were about to know, of his lab. The serum flowed through his veins as he directed his mind to create a way o
ut of the situation. When the idea came, he delighted in its simplicity.

  Silvester looked down at the drugged patient in the chair, Xavier Dalby and lifted him to his feet. In the drugged, dreamlike state, the man stood but weaved as if about to fall over. Using the lack of balance to his advantage, Thursby pushed Xavier so that he would topple. As the man fell, Thursby guided and added force to the man’s head directly into the table edge. When the man was down, Thursby wasn’t sure if he was dead or not, but figured it didn’t matter. The injury was severe enough to explain away whatever he needed to.

  Taking one of the bottles from the lab table, he poured liquid on the floor near Xavier’s feet, hoping that it would look like he slipped.

  With that taken care of, there was one last thing. Lying down on the patient bed, he strapped himself in. He had difficulties with his last wrist, but was able to get it on, if not tight. With all that would be discovered, would anyone really notice that one strap was not done well? Unlikely.

  Now on the bed, he waited. His story would be that he was drugged and he would have to allow sufficient time to pass in order to make that believable.

  After what seemed like an appropriate amount of time, he started yelling for help.

  The surprise of who came to his rescue and, more importantly, who they represented – Scotland yard and The Strand Magazine – caused him to rethink his original plan. Xavier was indeed dead and would not be missed. But these other two would be. He couldn’t let them stop him but he couldn’t just kill them, could he? Be logical, his mind screamed at him. What are the pros and cons?

  If he chose to kill them, it would be inevitable that a full investigation of their death or disappearance would ensue. He would not be able to hide his lab or what he had done. His research for a cure would be stopped. If he let them live, they would expose him and his research would stop. Neither option was what he wanted.

  Thursby thought about the near triumph with The Beast and wondered if he actually had a working serum, a serum that would heal Amberlyn. If only he had one more night!

  Exposure of his work should be lauded; praised for the accomplishment, but he knew it wouldn’t happen. He knew that only a few would understand the greatness of what he had done and that most would chastise him for murder.

  He thought about jail and the likelihood of his own death at the gallows and cared little. What truly worried him would be to leave Amberlyn alone in this place. His own presence had kept her safe and protected, but to think of her in the unbridled hands of Mr. Pegg, Mr. Baker, or anyone else like them was too terrible to even consider. It was not an option.

  It was with this thought that he gathered up the remaining serum, all his pertinent notes, and proceeded with his final desperate plan.

  41.

  When Sigmund awoke, his head hurt and his body wasn’t responding properly. It took only another moment to realize that he was lying on his side, tied up. His hands and ankles were bound behind his back and attached to each other.

  After the quick self-assessment, he remembered that he wasn’t alone. Maneuvering his body to be able to see around him, he found that he was on the floor of the basement lab, Xavier’s body next to him, and he could spot Charlotte on the patient bed. No sign of Mr. Thursby.

  There was no way for him to know how long he had been unconscious, but decided to worry about that later. “Charlotte!” he said firmly. “Charlotte, wake up! Are you alright?”

  When she stirred, Sigmund let out a sigh of relief. Yes, she had insisted on joining him, but he would feel no less guilt if she was to be injured, or worse. “Charlotte, wake up.”

  “I cannot move,” she said with some fear in her voice. “I’m strapped down or something.”

  “I’m tied up as well. Look, I don’t know where Thursby is and that concerns me. We need to try and get free.”

  “How? I can barely move.”

  “Just keep trying. I am too.”

  After several minutes of struggling, neither were able to make much progress. Sigmund knew that given enough time, he would be able to get free, but the question was: how much time did they have? Where did Thursby go? His absence was starting to feel more disturbing than his presence.

  Sigmund thought of crying out for help, but realized that even if they could be heard, it would be just another wail in a place full of them. Their options were limited.

  “There you are!” said a small voice from the door. It was Pocket.

  “Pocket!” Sigmund and Charlotte said in unison.

  “What are you doing? You’ve been gone so long.” he said.

  “I’ll explain later,” answered Sigmund. “Can you untie knots?”

  “Oh, sure. Sometimes my mom will tie knots in strings for me to undo. It helps to pass the time. I think…”

  “Pocket!” Sigmund said quickly. “I would love to hear about that later, but it is very important that you come and untie me as fast as you can.”

  “Okay, I’ll be quick as spit.”

  Within a couple minutes, Sigmund was free. Another minute and Charlotte was free as well.

  “Good job, Pocket!” Sigmund said with true sincerity. “I am not sure where we would be without you tonight.”

  The boy beamed at the compliment. “Told you I could help.”

  Charlotte looked at Sigmund and asked, “Do you think Thursby ran off?”

  Sigmund nodded and was about to answer when Pocket spoke up, “Mr. Thursby? Oh I saw him a little while ago. He said he was going to visit Miss Amberlyn. She’s a non-talker and mum says that I shouldn’t bother her.”

  “Another subject for his experiment?” Sigmund wondered out loud.

  42.

  Closing and locking the door behind him, Silvester Thursby lifted his candle and saw Amberlyn asleep in her bed. There was a wooden chair in her room that he picked up and placed next to her. How many nights had he sat here, just to be in her presence. It was both a joy and a torture. She never spoke and never acknowledged that she recognized him. His most precious friend in the world, at arm’s reach, and yet completely lost.

  It was time for her to be found, even if only temporarily.

  After gently lifting the blanket from off her neck, he then removed the syringe from his pocket. The candle flickered and danced as he gazed at her pale skin. He whispered lovingly, “My sweet. The time has finally come for us to be reunited.”

  As carefully as possible, he injected the serum into an artery in her neck. She awoke at the feel of the needle. Her face showed alarm and she pulled her knees to her chest as she backed into the corner.

  “There, there my love. No more pain.” he soothed.

  She looked back at him with distrust that faded to disinterest. It was this face of disinterest that he had talked to for so many of these asylum nights. How he longed to see her smile, to see her recognize him as someone she loved, or at least someone she knew.

  Silvester continued to talk to her, expressing his love and desire for them to be together, to run away and never look back.

  Not knowing how long he had until Sigmund and Charlotte could get free, until he was discovered, made every passing second feel like a lost opportunity. Please, work! he pleaded in his mind. Please heal this person, not for me, I am not deserving, but for her.

  When Amberlyn’s eyes looked at him, not in an unfocused way, but with what had to be conscious thought, his heart skipped a beat. The serum was taking effect. “That’s right, my love, it’s me, Silvester.”

  She continued to look at him while puzzling through the effects of the serum. “Yes, Amberlyn, let the memories come back. Let your reasoning return. Awake from the living nightmare.”

  Without moving her lips, a breathy sound escaped from her. Silvester wasn’t sure, but he thought that she was trying to say his name. “That’s right, sweetheart, it’s Silvester.”

  She swallowed and blinked repeatedly. The transformation was continuing. When another sound was made, this time there was no mistaking it. She sa
id, “Silvester?”

  “Yes, my love. I’m right here.” He reached out his hand to her and watched as she slowly pulled her arm from under the blanket and placed it on his. Tears erupted from his eyes as the dream of interacting with his true love was happening. How he had wished for this moment night after night, day after day, wondering if it could possibly be a reality.

  “Where am I?” she asked slowly.

  “There is much I need to talk with you about, but for now, just relax. Tell me, what do you remember?”