Ed put the phone back on the nightstand and began to reread what he’d written so far. He finished the article an hour later, but the enthusiasm he’d felt before never returned. He hoped he hadn’t lost it for good.
Just get to Edge Key. See Uncle Kane. Clear your mind and put your conscience at ease. It’ll come back. You’ll be back here in a day or two at most. The story isn’t going anywhere.
Thinking it was easier than believing it though. Ed emailed his article off to the Chief. Then, as an afterthought, he emailed another message: The article is good enough to go to print as is, but hold off for a few days before pasting it into next week’s paper. There’s a bigger story here than I’ve been able to uncover in one day. I’ll keep in touch. Ed
Of course, Ed didn’t realize at the time that his story wasn’t confined to the city limits of Gibsonton when he was packing his things to get on the road to Edge Key.
CHAPTER 5
“To suffering there is a limit; to fearing, none.”
—Sir Francis Bacon
“Question: What could cause a man’s hair to spontaneously turn white?” Ed said into his miniature tape recorder as he drove down the highway to Edge Key. He decided to get some work done on the hour and a half drive south. Besides, working was better than letting his mind wander to thoughts about his miserable life. “Consult with a medical doctor and/or a psychologist for a possible explanation. Are there other cases of this happening in the medical journals?
“Question: Why did Steven Richards try to claw his own eyes out? Drugs, maybe? That had to hurt like heck. What could push a man over the edge like that?”
Ed was actually feeling like a real journalist again. It didn’t really matter whether or not he got satisfactory answers to any of the questions he posed to himself. He wrote for Manifesto Veritas, not The New York Times. He could always make up his own answers—and his paper would print them as facts. Just the same, it was good to pretend to be a real journalist for awhile.
“Question: Can a human actually die of fright?”
A memory briefly flashed through Ed’s mind of someone—or something—asking a similar question: “What scares you?”
Ed quickly suppressed the memory. The nightmare was not something he needed to be thinking of right now. Work is what he needed to concentrate on.
“Consult medical sources for confirmation,” Ed dictated into the tape recorder.
But Eddie, WHAT SCARES YOU?!
Ed almost swerved off the road as the thought flashed through his mind.
It’s because you’re going home again. That’s why you’re thinking about the nightmare, Ed tried to reassure himself.
It didn’t work too well. Ed tossed the tape recorder on the seat next to him. Work was out for now. He couldn’t concentrate on anything except Edge Key. All sorts of memories—some good, some bad—flickered through Ed’s mind. One in particular.
* * *
“Hi, Eddie,” Torrie said to seven year old Eddie.
Victoria Wilson—Torrie, for short. She was one of Eddie best friends—one of his only friends—when he was growing up. She was also the prettiest girl Eddie—or Ed—had ever known. One of the nicest as well.
“Hi, Torrie!” Eddie answered. He was always ecstatic when she was around. Her presence could brighten up a funeral. He’d had a crush on her for years. Well, at least since the first grade anyway.
“Did you hear the big news?” Torrie said as she ran up to Eddie.
“No. What news?”
“The cops found a dead body over in Vagrant-ville.”
Eddie cringed. Torrie noticed and instantly regretted saying it. The Edge Key locals referred to the area where the transients lived as, “Vagrant-ville.” Since Eddie’s Uncle Kane lived there, Eddie had a rather low opinion of the name. Eddie considered the name mean and insulting. It was like hearing a confirmation of Eddie’s parents’ opinion of Uncle Kane—He’s just a crazy bum!
“I’m sorry, Eddie,” Torrie said. “I didn’t mean it.”
“It’s a stupid, old name, made up by stupid, old people,” Eddie said with a scowl on his face as he kicked a rock off the ground.
“Stupid old poopy-heads,” Torrie said and then giggled.
Her giggling was infectious and Eddie started giggling too. Plus, a smile from Torrie could cure the bubonic plague as far as Eddie was concerned. He could never stay mad at her for long.
“Did you hear how the guy died?” Eddie asked.
Now that his anger was gone, his curiosity was aroused. People were found dead over in that part of town every so often, usually from cirrhosis, malnutrition or some other common malady associated with living on the streets. Regardless, a dead body is a dead body; it’s a big deal to a couple of seven year olds.
“Naw. Nobody tells us kids nothin’. Bet we could find out though.”
“How?”
“We could go visit your uncle. I’m sure he could give us the scoop.”
“I dunno,” Eddie said—always the worrier. “If my folks found out I’d been over there, they’d tan my hide for sure.”
“Would ya do it if I gave you a kiss?” Torrie asked while batting her eyes.
A kiss?!! That wasn’t playing fair. Eddie had never told Torrie about his crush on her. He’d never told anyone. Did she somehow know how he felt? Or did she like him too? Holy cow! Eddie wanted to scream out that he’d do anything for a kiss from her, but for some reason his voice didn’t seem to be working right now. Instead, he just stared back at her, dumbfounded . . . while his face turned several shades of red.
“You’re sweet,” Torrie finally said to him while she smiled at his obvious embarrassment. Then she shocked him again. Right before she ran off, she did kiss him.
* * *
Ed smiled as he remembered his first kiss. As he continued driving towards Edge Key, he tried to remember what happened after that kiss, but his mind was a blank. Seven year old Eddie’s mind had probably gone blank after that kiss too.
Ed hadn’t seen Torrie since he’d left Edge Key to go off to college. She’d stayed home to take care of her mom, who was dying of cancer. Her dad had died when she was a baby, so it had always been just the two of them. As a result, they were extremely close. Ed’s parents moved away from Edge Key shortly after his graduation. Sold the house he’d grown up in for a fortune, according to them. When they were both killed in a car accident a year later, Ed found out the truth.
Ed’s parents had been duped into an elaborate land scheme. A developer paid them peanuts for the property as a down payment, but they were supposed to receive fifty percent of the profits after the developer built several houses on the land. They would make “millions;” they’d be “set for life.” Of course, by the time the new houses were sold by the developers, all the profits had been eaten up by “cost-overruns, interest charges and unforeseen administrative costs.” Ed barely had enough money from his parents’ estate to pay his way through college. And with the death of his parents, Ed was left with only one living relative—Uncle Kane. Ed had been on his own for a long time. He’d also never returned to Edge Key. He never wanted to be confronted with the evidence of how bad his parents had been swindled.
Uncle Kane called from time to time—always collect—to keep in touch with his “successful nephew.” Sometimes, Uncle Kane was off on some strange adventure, traveling around the country—or so he said—but most of the time he called from Edge Key. Ed always asked about Torrie, but Uncle Kane didn’t seem to know much if anything. Ed had promised Torrie that he would “call or write all the time” when he left for school, but as with the rest of their relationship, the fairy tale ending was never realized.
That one kiss when they were both seven years old was their only kiss. Real one anyway. Ed and Torrie remained inseparable even throughout high school, but they never dated. Ed would claim that he didn’t want to risk messing up a perfect friendship. Truth was, Ed was simply too shy to reveal his feelings towards her. In college, he
got caught up in experiencing his new life—away from Edge Key for the first time in his life, living on his own, meeting new people, encountering new adventures. Oh yeah, and studying. Torrie was never forgotten, but Ed was overwhelmed by his new life and his promises to call or write Torrie were overlooked. Torrie was too involved with her own new life of playing nurse to a dying mother. When her mother died, Torrie innocently neglected to inform Ed of her new address. They lost touch with each other.
Ed’s mind had been drifting through memories of a forgotten life for longer than he realized. He’d already reached the exit for Edge Key. Ed picked up his cell phone and dialed the number of the hospital Morley had given him.
“Ivory Rock Clinic,” the receptionist answered.
There was no Ivory Rock Clinic when Ed lived in Edge Key. He assumed it must be a new facility.
“Uh, hi. Um, where exactly are you located?” Ed asked the receptionist on the other end of the line.
“We’re on the corner of Goldust Avenue and Jazz Street. Our exact address is-”
“Oh yeah, I know where you’re at, thanks,” Ed said and pushed the off button on the phone.
Goldust and Jazz. That’s the same place Uncle Kane went to pick up his “crazy pills” years ago. It was called something different back then though. Its former name escaped Ed. He’d probably repressed the name, along with all sorts of other memories of growing up on Edge Key.
Ed crossed the bridge onto Edge Key. The water was as black as the night on either side of the bridge although he could make out the shoreline of the island in places where it was illuminated from a house. He got an odd vibe as the car went clackity-clack over the old bridge. Everything was familiar, yet foreign at the same time.
Ed went directly to Goldust Avenue. He had no desire to sightsee or find out if the town had changed in the twenty-plus years since the last time he’d crossed over the bridge. As he drove down Goldust Avenue, he noticed that everything seemed nicer. Newer. Some of the same names occupied the store-fronts, but the entire street had gotten a makeover, at least on the surface. Before he knew it, he had come to the Ivory Rock Clinic. Same place he remembered, just with a different name . . . and a fresh coat of paint.
Ed pulled his Saturn into the parking area designated, “VISITORS ONLY.” There were no other cars there. In fact, there were only two or three cars parked in the employee lot. It was late. They probably wouldn’t let him see Uncle Kane, but he decided to try on the off chance that this whole ordeal was something minor and he could turn around and head back to Gibsonton tonight. Back to his story.
“Hello, can I help you?” said a young brunette sitting behind a counter as Ed walked through the automatic doors of the clinic.
Ed had disturbed her from the romance novel she’d been reading, but she seemed pleasant. Ed’s experience from being a reporter was that those who worked the night shift usually were starved for human contact. It usually made them chatty and easier to ply information from.
“Hi, Dawn Marie,” Ed said as he glanced at her ID badge.
“Please, it’s just, Dawn,” she said as she rolled her eyes. “The hospital uses middle names instead of last names on our badges. It’s some kinda security thing. We get a lot of homeless types in here and I guess they don’t want anyone to be able to look up our home addresses or phone numbers. I always hated my middle name though. Tried to get them to use my last name, but they wouldn’t budge. Only doctors get to use their last names. Figure that one out, huh? You don’t look like you’ve been livin’ on the street though, so what’re you doin’ in this place at this time of night?”
Ed smiled. She was definitely chatty. It’s nice to know that people are pretty much the same wherever you go. “I’m here to see a patient.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, mister,” she said, sounding as though she’d just told him his cat died, “but visiting hours ended ages ago, way before my shift even started.”
“I kinda figured, but I’ve been on the road for hours,” Ed exaggerated. Another trick of the trade, evoke sympathy and more often than not, you’ll get what you want despite the rule against it. “I got on the road the second I heard my uncle was in the hospital. I don’t even know what’s wrong with him. Can’t you help me out somehow?” he finished, looking as pathetic as possible.
“You seem like a nice guy, so I’ll tell you what. I’m not supposed to do this, but if you give me your uncle’s name, I’ll look him up in the computer and I’ll tell you what he was admitted for.”
“That’s really nice of you. His name is Kane Nanreit. N-A-N-R-E-I-T.”
Dawn punched his name into the computer. Ed could see the light from the computer screen illuminating Dawn’s face change as the screen switched to another screen. Dawn frowned as she read the information on her computer.
“What is it?” Ed asked, suddenly nervous about what she was about to tell him.
“It says here under, reason for admittance, unknown. I can’t tell why he’s here from this,” she said as she kept reading the screen.
“Maybe if-”
“Oh, this is good! It says here that the attending physician is Dr. Austin. I saw him wandering around less than a half-hour ago. I think he’s still here. I’ll page him to the front and you can talk to him personally. Just between you and me, he’s a strange one. Good doctor, but kinda weird. Heard he was pretty famous back in the sixties. He still travels all over the country for doctor-stuff. Maybe he can fill in the blanks for you.”
Doctor-stuff? What’s doctor-stuff? Ed wondered. Apparently, Chatty-Cathy had no idea what the doctor did on his travels around the country.
“Dr. Austin, please come to the front desk, stat,” Dawn said into the intercom. “Only supposed to use “stat” for real emergencies, but you’ve driven such a long way,” she said to Ed with a wink. “So, where exactly did you drive here from?”
The question went unanswered when Dr. Austin appeared through the double doors to the right of the receptionist’s counter. “Yes, Dawn, what is it?” Dr. Austin asked her, ignoring Ed.
Dr. Austin wasn’t what Ed was expecting. He looked over sixty, so the age was right, but he was a little man who didn’t have that aura around him commanding respect like most doctors did. And Dawn was right. Ed couldn’t put his finger on it right away, but there was definitely something odd about him.
“Hi, Doctor, this gentleman’s uncle is Kane, um . . .”
“Nanreit,” Ed finished for her. “My name’s, Ed,” he said while sticking out his hand to Dr. Austin.
Dr. Austin returned the handshake and smiled. “Nice to meet you finally. I’ve heard a lot about you . . . from Kane, that is, but, unfortunately, visiting hours have been over since-”
“I don’t need to see him right now, Dr. Austin. It’s just . . . I wanted to know what his status is. I haven’t seen my uncle in awhile, since I moved away from Edge Key, but we’ve always kept in touch. He’s my only living relative, and I drove a long way. Could you tell me what his diagnosis is, please?”
“Would if I could, but at this point, we just don’t know. We’re running a series of tests, but the results haven’t come back yet. To tell the truth, it could be nothing, just something in his mind. That’s why I’m listed as the attending physician. I’m Kane’s psychiatrist. Have been for years.”
“You think he’s nuts?”
“First, we don’t use that term. Second, we simply don’t know anything at this point.”
Ed was starting to figure out why he’d sensed something odd about Dr. Austin before. The man didn’t have an aura of respect around him, but he did have an unusual vibe coming from him that jumped out, especially when he spoke. Dr. Austin had a distinct manner of speaking. It was calming. Soothing. Much different from a normal bedside manner.
“Can you at least tell me why he came in? What are his complaints?” Ed asked.
“Actually, he didn’t come in himself. He was brought here by the police. He was wandering around down on Goldust mumb
ling incoherently to himself. Something about him just getting back to town . . . or being scared back to town. We couldn’t really figure out what he was trying to tell us when he came in. His vitals are all normal and his initial drug test came back negative, so we decided to keep him here for observation while we ran some more tests. He’s pretty heavily sedated right now, getting rest. Who knows, that may be all he needs.”
“Hmm,” Ed mumbled while squeezing the bridge of his nose between his eyes, trying to squeeze out the proper questions to ask. He suddenly felt tired. “If I come by tomorrow, can I see him?”
“Absolutely. In fact, that may be good for him. I’ll make a note in his chart so you won’t have any problems getting in if I’m not here. I’ll be here at some point during the day and I’ll be glad to give you any more answers . . . if I’ve got any more answers. Go get some rest, you look tired.”
“Just stressed.”
“There’s nothing to be scared of here; no need to be afraid. You don’t have to be afraid of an-y-thing . . . ever . . .”
The next thing Ed knew, he was in a hotel room in Edge Key. It was like he’d been in a trance or something. He didn’t remember leaving the clinic, driving to the hotel or checking in. The last thing he remembered was Dr. Austin telling him there was nothing to be scared of.
WHAT SCARES YOU?!
“Holy-moley,” Ed said to the empty room as he shook his head, trying to clear that last thought away.
Work. That would clear his head. Think about your story, Ed, he told himself. At least he’d brought up his overnight bag and computer when he was in his fog. Ed took out his laptop, plugged-in the modem and got comfortable in his bed.
Bzzt, beep, bip-bip, beeeeep, the computer sounded as it connected to the internet. Ed typed in the following search terms: body and grisly and (discover or discovery) and white hair. He might need to narrow the search, but who knows what would pop up. He scanned through several websites devoted to hair products that were “guaranteed to erase your gray.” Ed typed in an additional search term: police. The number of related articles shrunk dramatically.
The Fringe Dwellers Page 4