Ruled By Fear

by C. Cervi

  “What if I told you there is no way out?” Grant asked.

  “I’d say you were lying,” Aaron answered quickly. “When my brother and I were in town, he met someone that said a prisoner had escaped from here.”

  Grant nodded, rubbing the back of his hand over his forehead. “That was over five years ago,” he said.

  “Five years?” Aaron could feel the despair starting to creep in.

  “And the man wasn’t a prisoner . . . he was a patient.”

  “A patient?” Aaron repeated.

  His mind was whirling, trying to pull all the fractured pieces of information together. He looked up in confusion, his eyes circling the room filled with cots and medical equipment and, suddenly, things started making sense.

  “This is a mental institution?”

  “It was,” Grant answered. “Now . . . now it’s a prison.”

  “What happened?” Aaron asked.

  Grant sighed heavily and dropped onto one of the cots. “Too many people thought that they could play God, and ended up unleashing the devil.”

  Aaron lowered himself onto the cot opposite Grant, and waited quietly for him to continue.

  “Seven years ago, I got a job working at an asylum. I’m sure you can guess by my size what my job was.”

  Aaron had no doubt that the man’s size and strength would have been a considerable asset in such a place, but he had also seen another side of Grant—one that was firm but patient—Strong yet capable of gentle compassion.

  “There were two men in charge of that facility,” Grant continued. “One of them—his name was Gordon Cullman—he had all kinds of ideas about the patients. He seemed to think that with the right treatments and care, a lot of the patients could learn to function outside of the asylum. He was given permission to take a group of patients to a new facility, which he had funded, to try out his treatments.”

  “That sounds admirable,” Aaron said.

  Grant snorted. “It wasn’t for them,” he nearly spat. “The patients I mean. He considered himself a genius, and he wanted the credit.” Taking a deep breath, Grant continued. “We took thirty patients and trekked them out here to the middle of nowhere. Things went all right, at first. The problem was Gordon didn’t take just any patients. He took the ones that were smart, the ones he thought would be most able to learn. That’s what made them so dangerous. Yes, they were smart, too smart and we found out later, impossible to control.”

  Aaron watched as the huge man’s shoulders sagged. After a moment, he looked up at Aaron and, in his eyes, Aaron could see all the years of torment this man had endured.

  “When we came out here there were twenty of us—doctors, nurses, orderlies. Now . . . there are three.”

  “Three?” Aaron screwed up his face in puzzlement.

  Grant nodded. “Cody and Doyle,” he said. “There were five of us, but you know what happened to the other two.”

  Aaron thought back to the cave in that had killed Grant’s two comrades and Tom.

  “What happened to all the others?”

  “Like I said, things started out well enough. Gordon had two excellent doctors and, at first, the medicines they were trying seemed to be working. We kept the patients busy by giving them jobs to do. When Gordon bought this land and had men start building, they noticed an old abandoned mine. Of course, there was never anything in it. We used it to give the patients something to do and to teach them some mining techniques. We also taught them gardening, and had them doing chores around the place—like laundry and cooking. Everything was going great and then, one day, it all changed. Several of the patients woke up screaming. They were having hallucinations, and were in terrible pain; by the end of that first night, two of them had died and the rest were starting to show the same symptoms. The doctors were frantic, figuring it must have been caused by the medicines as they built up in their systems. We immediately stopped giving the medicines to them, but things got worse. The patients were addicted, and ended up dying faster from withdrawals than they were from taking the medicine. Eventually, we found that by lowering the doses it kept the patients alive, but we couldn’t get rid of the hallucinations.”

  Aaron, listening quietly, could hear the agony in Grant’s voice as he continued.

  “You can’t imagine what it was like,” he said. “Hearing their tortured screams as every demon they’d ever feared came out to haunt them. In their fear they grew out of control and we had to start locking them in their rooms. Gordon had passageways built leading to just about every room in the facility. He said they were so that we would always have access to the patients, but I think . . . well, he had his own personal set of fears—turns out they were well-founded. The patients knew about the passages and it didn’t take them long to figure out how to access them. They kept escaping. The first group that managed to get out the front gate . . .”

  Grant stopped again, and Aaron noticed him clenching and unclenching his fists. This story was hard on him, and Aaron sensed that it went deeper than just feeling bad for his patients. For some reason, this was also personal.

  “They . . .” Grant continued. “They came across a family, travelling through the canyon. You have to understand—they weren’t seeing things clearly—by the time we caught up with them . . . the family was dead—the patients were still there, ripping things apart—they had literally become like animals. They came at us, and we had no choice but to shoot them. When we got back, with the bodies slung over our horses, it started a panic among the other patients . . . six of the people working with me were killed that night. The patients, through the nightmares they were living, turned us into the enemy. Most of them escaped into the mine. We didn’t know what to do. Gordon came up with the plan to . . . to blow up the mine.

  Grant looked up at Aaron’s gasp.

  “I was against it,” Grant said, looking down again. “So were Cody and Doyle, and the two other men that were always with me. We didn’t know that one of the patients had been listening—he went back to the others and told them what he’d heard. That night, they came in through the passageways and killed everyone, except the five of us that had spoken up for them. They kept us alive, but turned us into the prisoners they imagined themselves being. The one that heard us talking that night, he sort of rose up and took control of all the others. You’ve met him—his name is Daniel.”

  Aaron felt his gut twist inside him at the mention of the name, and he struggled to push his own emotions aside so that he could continue to listen.

  “A few of the patients managed to wean themselves off the medicine and Daniel sent me into town with them. With their hallucinations under control, they were able to stay there.” Aaron thought back to the people he and Keith had met in the town; he had a pretty good idea which of them were patients. The man from the livery being one.

  Grant continued. “There was a man that used to deliver the supplies. I’ve been paying him from the stash of money Gordon left, but . . .”

  Aaron nodded, remembering the night the driver had been killed.

  “Daniel distributes the medicine to the other patients—he uses it to control them. If they don’t do what he tells them, he holds it back and, eventually, their hallucinations become too much for them to bear.”

  “What about the cougar?” Aaron asked. “Where did it come from?”

  Grant sighed and looked down at his hands. Aaron’s own gaze fell to where the man’s missing fingers should have been.

  “That was another mistake of mine,” Grant said after a moment. “I’d ducked into the mine one day, to get out of the pouring rain, and heard this pitiful mewing. Turned out to be a half-drowned little thing that was trying to stay dry, just like I was. I kept it hidden in the mine, and brought it food. I always planned to let it go when it was old enough to take care of itself, but Daniel came across us one day when I was feeding it and took it. The next time I saw it was the night this happened.”

  Grant rubbed at his hand, and Aaron flinched in s
ympathy. Suddenly, Grant jumped up, grabbing Aaron’s candle and blowing it out.

  “Don’t move,” Grant whispered.

  Aaron’s eyes darted around the room, looking for what could have caused Grant’s reaction. That’s when he saw a faint light shining in from under the passageway door. His heart began to thud. He’d thought Grant had said they would be safe in here. His body froze as someone turned the handle of the door and it creaked open. Someone held a lantern up high, moving it slowly across the room. Aaron and Grant both dropped soundlessly to the ground, rolling underneath the cots.

  Don’t come in. Don’t come in.

  Aaron’s breath froze in his chest as the man took a step inside.

  “Don’t go in there,” another voice called out from behind him.

  “I thought I heard something,” the one with the lantern hissed.

  “Ghosts more than likely,” the other one answered. “Come on. Daniel won’t like it if you go in there.”

  The man with the lantern moved it over the room one last time before leaving. This time, when the door was shut, Aaron thought he could hear the sound of a lock clicking.

  Aaron decided to wait for Grant to make the first move and it was a good ten minutes before the larger man slid out from under the cot. Aaron joined him, although somewhat more stiffly.

  “Are we locked in?” he whispered.

  Grant looked toward the door and ran a hand through his hair. “We’re going to have to go through the regular door,” he said.

  Aaron didn’t have to have Grant tell him how dangerous that was going to be. The twisting in his stomach was doing all the telling he needed.

  “We should go now,” Grant said, starting toward the main door.

  Aaron had so many more questions he wanted—needed to ask, but he followed Grant quietly. Answers wouldn’t matter if he wasn’t around to use the information. As they reached the door, Grant reached out for the handle, but hesitated and then turned to Aaron.

  “You should know,” he said slowly. “If we get caught, I won’t be able to help you . . . I . . .”

  “It’s all right,” Aaron said softly.

  He knew if they were caught the chances of Grant turning against him were great. If Grant was going to be of any help to the others, he had to maintain appearances. A part of him resented the fact, but another part was thankful that if anything happened to him, Grant would be around to keep an eye out for his brother. Aaron quickly shook any thoughts of defeat from his mind as he and Grant entered quietly into the hallway. To all appearances it was empty, and they made their way quickly to the stairs. Aaron cringed as he set his foot on the first step. All the creaks and groans could easily give them away, and he prayed as they ascended that no one was around to hear them. Aaron was ready to breathe a sigh of relief when they reached the third floor, but the sound of a hinge squeaking stopped him short. He looked to Grant who had turned to face him. Grant nodded and Aaron’s heart sank. They’d been caught. He was puzzled when Grant didn’t seem concerned and watched as the man lifted his eyes toward the ceiling. Aaron followed his line of vision, and in the darkness, was just barely able to make out a small opening in the ceiling. From what he could tell, there were at least two people watching them. He turned to Grant in concern, and watched as the man lifted a finger to his lips, gesturing to the onlookers to be quiet. Aaron’s head shot back to the opening when he heard a soft scraping sound, and he watched in wonder as the opening was shut tight.

  “What was that?” he whispered.

  “Not everyone here is an enemy,” Grant said quickly, then motioned for him to hurry back to his room.

  A few minutes later, Aaron was back safely in his bed. He’d been given answers today—answers that he’d been waiting a long time for, but he’d also been given more questions, and it was some time before his mind grew quiet enough to allow him to get any sleep.

  Aaron woke before the sun rose the next morning. His mind, having gotten some rest, was actively analyzing the information he’d received and, now that he had some information to work with, he was already starting to formulate a plan. It was a desperate plan with a lot of contingencies in it, but at least it was something. By the time the sun started creeping in between the cracks, he was up and ready to head down to breakfast. Keith was sleeping so peacefully that he hated to have to wake him up. He decided to take a look at just how much gunpowder Tom had managed to collect before making his brother start a new day, but as he reached for the boards, he got a sense that something was wrong. One of the floorboards was partially open, and his mind flashed back to the night when he’d stubbed his toe. Tossing the boards to the side, his shoulders sagged as he took in the empty hole in front of him.

  “What’s going on?” Keith questioned sleepily.

  “It’s gone,” Aaron said, trying hard to keep the despair out of his voice.

  “All of it?” Keith asked, as he got up and joined his brother.

  Aaron knelt on the floor, letting his head fall into his hands. For every inch he took forward, it seemed there was an unseen force ready to push him back a dozen yards. He looked up as Keith laid a hand on his shoulder.

  “Maybe Philip knows where we can find some more,” Keith said softly.

  Aaron stood up slowly and glanced toward Philip. The clatter of the boards had apparently woken him up as well, and he was sitting upright watching the two brothers.

  “Do you know where this came from?” Aaron asked him, being careful not to mention Tom.

  Philip adamantly shook his head no, but he kept his eyes down, and Aaron noticed the way he was nervously twisting the blanket.

  “Philip,” he spoke the boy’s name in a tone that his younger brother had come to respect long ago. “Do you know what happened to the powder that was here?”

  Philip’s eyes snapped up and met Aaron’s for just a moment, and he could see fear in them. Softening his tone a little he tried again.

  “I’m not angry,” he said, approaching the bed. “But it’s very important that I find out what happened to it.”

  The boy’s shoulders were trembling now, but he still refused to look up.

  “I got rid of it,” he said.

  “You what?” Keith snapped, but Aaron held up a hand to stop him.

  “Why did you do that?” Aaron asked.

  Philip did look up then and, this time, any fear that had been in his eyes was replaced with anger. “Because that’s what killed my brother,” he answered, his voice shaking with emotion. “Did you know that’s why they beat him? Because he was caught trying to get more. He wouldn’t have died in that cave in if he hadn’t been so weak from that beating.”

  Aaron sat down next to the boy whose tears were now flowing freely. He reached out a hand, but Philip flinched away. This time, Aaron didn’t let that stop him, and he pulled the boy close. Philip struggled at first, but finally he gave in and, burying his face against Aaron’s chest, he cried. It seemed to Aaron as if all the torment that had ever been suffered inside this place was released in Philip’s sobs.

  “Let it out, boy,” Aaron said as he held him tighter. “Then let it go.”

  Aaron glanced to Keith, but his back was turned away from the painful scene. Finally, Philip quieted down and Aaron sat back, took him gently by the shoulders, and looked him in the eye.

  “Your brother died trying to come up with a way to get you out of this place. Isn’t that what he was collecting the gunpowder for?” Aaron asked.

  Philip sniffed and, after wiping his sleeve across his nose, nodded.

  “Then wouldn’t you say it was his final wish for you to be free?” Aaron continued.

  Philip studied Aaron’s face for a moment, then nodded again more slowly.

  “Then help me to make that wish come true,” he said. “I need you to tell me what you did with that gunpowder, and if you know where I can get anymore.”

  C

  hapter 19

  Aaron scanned the area around the pit carefully. Phil
ip had said that he’d thrown the bags over the edge, and he leaned out and stretched the candle as far below as his arm would allow. The boy had assured him that there was a ledge on this side, but the small light from the candle didn’t allow him to see more than a couple of feet below him. He had arranged for Keith to come get him if anyone asked about him being gone too long since Cody and Doyle were working with them again. Aaron had been watching them carefully, wondering if Grant had told them about their secret meeting, but the two older men didn’t act any differently toward him. Aaron’s stomach growled and he rubbed it absently. When his hand ran over his makeshift belt, an idea came to him. Taking it off, he opened it up and took out some candle stubs. After lighting two, he took the first one and, keeping it as steady as he could, dropped it over the edge. Sure enough it hit a ledge, but unfortunately, it bounced and rolled in the dirt, causing the light to snuff out. He took the next stub and lowered it as far over the edge as he could before dropping it—this one stayed upright. After lighting one more, he dropped it a few feet over from the first one—this gave him just enough light to know where to land. It didn’t look too far down, but he worried about his ankle. Taking a deep breath he lowered himself over the edge and then dropped. He managed to land with most of the weight on his good foot, but the other took just enough to cause him to grit his teeth in pain. After the throbbing subsided, he picked up the candle stubs and began checking the ground. Sure enough, it was littered with the small bags of gunpowder. He gathered them up into one pile then, carefully sitting down, he pulled out the journal.

  Journal entry – 25 June

  The prisoners are dying. I’ve known the doctors were performing experiments, but I had no idea to what lengths they would go. Two of the men on my shift died tonight. Their screams were deafening. Jesse was wild with fear. He was just sure that he would be next. I went to him and he quieted down almost immediately. He trusts me now, more then he used to. It’s taken some time, but I’ve proven to him that I can keep him safe. I’m afraid that I’m going to have to do something drastic if there is to be any hope of getting him out of here. I’m not sure what to do about the others. None of them deserve to die that kind of death.