Hearing Voices

by E. C. Bell

  Hmm. Now that was a bit of a puzzler, because I still wasn’t exactly sure why I was here, past being able to talk to ghosts.

  “I don’t know why I’m here,” I said.

  The doctor tched and shook his head as though what I’d just said had made him more than sad.

  “I don’t think that’s quite the truth, is it, Marie? I’ve seen your chart, and—”

  “Well, you’re doing better than me,” I said curtly. “I haven’t, and I don’t know why I’m here. All I know is, I’ve been drugged to the eyeballs and I can’t leave this place even though all I want to do is go home.”

  Then, dammit, I felt my throat tighten and knew if I said one more word, I was going to burst into tears. Of course, Otto caught it, and pointed at me, laughing.

  “She’s gonna cry,” he said.

  “That’s it, Otto,” the doctor said, his good will evidently spent. He raised his hand, and a big burly orderly walked into the room and grabbed Otto by the arm. “Take him to the quiet room,” the doctor said. “Now.”

  “I’ll be good!” Otto cried. He tried to pull his arm from the orderly’s, then froze. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to resist. I’ll come quietly.”

  “Good man,” the orderly said, and hustled Otto, who looked like he was going to cry, out of the room. The door boomed shut, and the room fell completely silent.

  “Shall we get back on track?” Dr. Erickson asked, his smile forced. “Now Marie, tell us why you are here.”

  He didn’t say, “Or I’ll give you some quiet time, too,” but he might as well have. By the look on his face, he was eager to tune me in. I didn’t need that, so I did what he told me. To a point.

  I told them about being attacked, and how my accuser had managed to turn the media against me, just because he was hurt worse than I was. But I made certain I didn’t mention ghosts once. The doctors might have believed they knew my deal, but there was no way I was giving them confirmation.

  When I finally finished talking, I looked over to Dr. Erickson like I was looking for approval. I wasn’t, of course. He’d pissed me off with the whole unspoken “quiet time” thing. “Is that enough?” I asked.

  “It will have to do,” the doctor said. He turned to Wilbur, who sat to his left. “Wilbur?” he said. “It’s time for you to share.”

  Wilbur nodded and then began telling us all a hugely detailed story of his life for the past twenty-four hours.

  I watched Dr. Erickson’s smile slowly came back as Wilbur related how many times he thought about suicide, how many times he’d woken up in the night, and what he’d eaten for breakfast. The good doctor liked hearing everything. All of us telling him everything meant that there were no surprises. I guessed that Dr. Erickson hated surprises more than anything else in the world.

  Great.

  FINALLY, THE TORTURE was over.

  “See you all tomorrow,” Dr. Erickson said as we all stood and shuffled to the door. “And, Marie?”

  I turned and faced him. “Yes?”

  “I hope you will be more forthcoming.” He smiled, a tight angry affair that was actually pretty amazing to see. “It will help.”

  “I’ll think about it,” I said.

  Then the nasty nurse was there to escort me back to my room.

  She didn’t ask me how things went or anything. Just pointed at the door to the cafeteria, which was across from the rec area. “Time for lunch,” she said.

  I blinked and faltered to a stop. “With the others?”

  “Yes,” she replied. “With the others.”

  For a second I was afraid that I’d be expected to eat with my therapy group, but as I shuffled through the door with everyone else, I could see that the group had scattered to the four winds. I turned to the surly nurse.

  “Where do I sit?” I asked.

  “Anywhere you want,” she said. Then she pointed. “In that section.”

  I looked over to the section she’d indicated. There were three tables crowded in one corner, and most of the inhabitants were in wheelchairs and bibs. It looked like something out of the seventh circle of hell.

  “Over there?” I asked, just to be sure.

  “Yes,” she said. “Those with dietary requirements sit at those tables.” She grabbed me by the arm, hard. “Want me to help you find a seat?”

  “No, it’s fine,” I said, resisting the urge to yank my arm from her iron grip. “I can find my way.”

  “Good,” she said, and then she was gone, and I was on my own.

  It took me only a minute to sit down, and I waited for someone at the table to say hi or even notice me. It didn’t happen, though. No one responded to my presence at all. In fact, no one moved until the food arrived. Then, their eyes lightened, and they all dug in, as well as they were able.

  The smell of the food was nauseating, and watching most of my tablemates try to get their spoons to their mouths was even worse. I looked down at my bowl—more porridge, or something like it—and wished that I was anywhere but at that table, in that place.

  “You gonna eat that?” the woman beside me asked. She was the only other person not in a wheelchair, and I saw that she’d already scraped her plate clean.

  “I don’t think so,” I said. “Want it?”

  She looked around furtively, and then nodded. I handed her my bowl and watched her as she quickly mashed the gooey mass into her mouth. The instant she was done—and it hadn’t taken her much more than a minute—she pushed the bowl back at me.

  “Put it in front of you,” she said. “And don’t tell them I ate it. We’ll both get in a boatload of shit if they find out.”

  I assumed she was talking about the orderlies scattered around the room and nodded as I pulled the bowl in front of me.

  “Make sure you sit beside me again,” she said. “They’re trying to starve me to death.”

  I silently wondered what would happen if I wanted to eat my own meal, but I’d work that out later.

  “My name’s Marie,” I said. “Nice to meet you.”

  The woman turned her head and stared at me as though I’d casually mentioned that I like to decapitate small puppies in my spare time. “I don’t want to know your name,” she finally said. “And I don’t want to know you. Just sit here tonight, for supper.” She slapped the back of my chair making it, and me, jump. “Got it?”

  I nodded, but she didn’t notice because she was searching the room for the orderlies again. I almost felt relief when I saw my nasty nurse walking toward my table. Then I heard my table mate suck in a horrified breath.

  “Why is she coming over here?” she whispered.

  “She’s coming for me,” I said.

  She stared at me, and I could see the sympathy in her eyes. “Wow. You really got the short straw,” she said. “Nurse Willoughby.”

  “Is that her name?” I asked. “She never told me.”

  She shuddered. “I’ve heard things about her. Things that would curl your toes.” Then she stopped talking and stared down at her empty plate. Nurse Willoughby was standing by my chair.

  “Natalie,” she said to the woman beside me. “Enjoying your diet?”

  “Yes, Nurse Willoughby,” Natalie said. She smiled with terrified eyes. She looked like a puppy trying to appease her master. “It’s just fine.”

  “Good,” Nurse Willoughby said. “You have to lose at least ten kilos, you know. For your heart.”

  “I know,” Natalie said. The horrible, terrified smile wandered about on her face, and for a second, I thought she was going to burst into tears. Nurse Willoughby didn’t seem to notice, though. Just turned to me and tapped me on the arm.

  “Time to go back to your room,” she said.

  Without a word, I stood and walked away from the table. I glanced back at Natalie once, and saw that she’d nearly collapsed on her licked clean bowl. She was really afraid of Nurse Willoughby, and I wondered if I should be, too.

  MY ROOM WAS quiet, and I was almost relieved to
be back there. The nurse nodded at my bed, her lips pursed.

  “Time for a nap,” she said. “You’ve had a busy morning.”

  I was going to say that I didn’t need a nap, but then I stumbled to my bed, suddenly exhausted. What is she doing to me? I thought as I scrabbled onto the perfectly made bed. Was this some sort of mind control thing?

  “It’s the medication you’re on,” the nurse said, as though she actually was reading my mind. “But don’t worry, it’ll get better."

  “So I’ve heard,” I mumbled. I groped my pillow in an effort to get a bit more comfortable, but quickly gave it up as a useless endeavour. Flat as it was, it would have to do.

  As my eyes slid shut, Nurse Willoughby bent over me, so close I could feel her breath on my cheek. “I saw what you did,” she said. “Do not give Natalie your meals. She can be persuasive, but her calorie intake must be kept in check. Understand?”

  “Yes,” I whispered, too freaked out to open my eyes and face my accuser. My God, did she see everything?

  “Good.” Then her breath on my cheek was gone, and I heard her shoes squeak as she turned toward the door. “Just follow the rules, and everything will go swimmingly,” she said. And then, she was gone.

  I was freaked out, and wanted to get up and think through everything that had happened to me that morning, but I couldn’t move. I just slid further and further into darkness, and then . . .

  I AM AT the ball diamond, eating peanuts.

  Jasper:

  Talking to Franklin, Finally

  I CAUGHT UP with Franklin the next day. “Can I ask you a favour?” I said.

  He stared at me as he read my lips, his rheumy eyes creeping me out. He was in his seventies, and had been in a war. He’d lost his hearing, and suffered from something he called shell shock, which meant that he spent a lot of his time crying or fighting things not even us ghosts could see. Being him was exhausting, as far as I could tell. But when he wasn’t fighting his own demons, he was a decent enough guy, in spite of his creepy eyes and the never-ending war stories.

  “What would you like?” he finally asked.

  “I’d like to learn sign language,” I said. “Will you teach me?”

  He stared at me a moment more. “Why?” he finally asked.

  “Because,” I said, then couldn’t think of a good enough excuse that did not involve mentioning Marie. “Just because,” I finally said. “Will you?”

  “It’s for the girl, isn’t it?” he said. If I’d been alive, I would have blushed. He laughed.

  “Is she deaf?” he asked.

  “No,” I said. “But her meds make it hard for us to communicate.”

  He stared, and I honestly thought I saw sympathy there. Then he shook his head.

  “Sorry, kid, but I’m not going to do anything to piss off Phillipa,” he said. “It has to be no.”

  I walked away from him and out to the pasture before I screamed in frustration and despair. I was going to lose her and Phillipa was going to win. I just knew it.

  Marie:

  The Good Sergeant Comes for a Visit

  I RIPPED MYSELF out of my nightmare when I felt someone grab my arm. My throat felt raw again, and I realized I’d been screaming. Again.

  Man, I had to figure out a way to stop that.

  Nurse Willoughby stared down at me, and I glared back.

  “What do you want?” I asked, doing my best to act like I was completely in control of my emotions and everything else. By the look on her face, I’d failed, miserably. “I was sleeping. Aren’t I supposed to be catching up?”

  “The police are here,” Nurse Willoughby said, her voice tight. “They’ve requested an interview with you. Get up and brush your hair.”

  Sergeant Worth, I hoped, to get me out of here. I scrambled out of the bed and stood. Felt my head whirl, but kept upright until the feeling passed, then walked to the little dresser and scooped up my brush.

  “I’m surprised Dr. Parkerson agreed to this,” I said as I ran the brush through my unruly hair. “She told me I couldn’t have any visitors.”

  “Of course, Dr. Parkerson would allow you to speak to the police,” she said. “You are involved in a criminal investigation.”

  That bit of truth dashed my hopes for a quick escape, but I plastered a smile on my face as I put down the brush and pulled on my housecoat.

  “I’m ready,” I said.

  “Follow me,” she said, and opened the door.

  I was expecting to have her take me to the rec area where I’d spoken to James, but she turned right instead of left and led me to a hallway with a series of doors on either side. The hallway was lit with fluorescents and one of them flickered and buzzed, making me feel slightly sick.

  A door was open half way down the hallway. The nurse led me to it, then pointed. “In there,” she said. “I’ll be waiting to take you back to your room as soon as you’re finished.”

  I walked through the door and Sylvia Worth was sitting at a small table, looking massively uncomfortable. “Close the door,” she said. “I imagine you wouldn’t mind a little privacy.”

  “That would be nice,” I said, loud enough for the nurse who was skulking outside the door to hear me. I slapped it shut, then walked to the chair sitting opposite Sylvia. “When the hell am I getting out of here?”

  Sylvia shrugged apologetically. “I can’t say, Marie. I’m sorry.”

  I sat down and scowled. “You can’t say because you don’t know?” I snapped. “Or is it because you do know, and don’t want to have to give me bad news?”

  “I really don’t know,” she said. “Testing on the murder victim is ongoing. But it will still take some time.”

  “Why?” I asked. I could hear the whine in my voice and tried to tone it down. I could tell that Worth was doing her best, as far as she was able. Even a cop had to walk gently when the person who had given her the tip about where the body was buried also mentioned that she’d found out about the body from the ghost of the girl buried there. That sort of information could derail a promising career, no doubt about it.

  My anger built. All right, so people would think she was nuts for believing someone like me, but she’d found the body, hadn’t she? Right where I’d said it was buried. And, I’d helped her get rid of her pesky ghost problem too. Her old boyfriend Rory was now officially moved on to the next planeof existence by yours truly, so she knew that I was the real deal. She had to throw her weight around more, so I could get out of here. She just had to.

  “First, we have to determine how long she’s been buried,” Sylvia said. “Just to make sure that you weren’t the one who killed her.” She smiled at me, but I couldn’t smile back. I never would have thought for a second that they would be trying to pin Karen’s death on me.

  “She was buried fifteen years before I was born,” I said. “And that ball diamond where she was buried hasn’t been disturbed since the diamond was completed. Should be easy to prove, shouldn’t it?”

  “We gotta let the science geeks do their tests,” she said. “That takes a little while.”

  “A little while?”

  “A week,” she said. “Maybe more. And then, there’s the DNA they found under her fingernails.” She looked uncomfortable. “Sometimes it takes weeks to get the results.”

  “Weeks?” I cried.

  “Weeks,” she said gently. “And I need the DNA to prove that Andrew—the guy who accused you of assault—killed her. That will throw suspicion on him and his allegations. You know?”

  “I get it,” I said. “But man, are you really telling me I might be stuck in here for weeks?”

  “No,” she said. “It could take weeks for some of the proof we need for our investigation. But James told me he’s got a lawyer for you. He’s going to try to get you out that way.”

  I folded my arms over my chest, feeling so miserable I could barely speak. “But who knows how long will it take for him to even get in front of a judge.” I felt my throat tighten. “I ha
te it in here,” I whispered.

  “I don’t blame you,” Sylvia said. “But believe me, we are all working as hard as we can to get you out.”

  “All right,” I said.

  “How about if I come back in a day or two?” she said. “I’ll say I have more questions for you. Just so you have somebody from the outside to talk to.”

  “That would be nice,” I said. Then I laughed. “And it would be really nice if you could sneak me in a burger. I’m frigging starving in here.”

  She smiled. “I’ll do my best,” she said.

  She stood, and I followed her to the closed door.

  “Thanks for coming in,” I whispered. “Tell James I’m doing everything I can to deal. All right?”

  “I will,” she said.

  “Oh, could you ask him if he got any information for me?”

  “About what?” Sylvia asked.

  “About possible murders,” I said.

  “Murders?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” I said. “In here.” Then I whispered, “A ghost told me.”

  Sylvia shook her head. “They sure can find you, can’t they?”

  “Yes,” I said. “They really can.”

  “Anything I can help you with?” she asked. “After all, I am the police.”

  I smiled. “Not right now, because I’m not even sure that there’s anything to the ghost’s claim. But James is checking some stuff for me, and it’s going to be hard for him to get back in here. If he finds out anything, can he give you the information to give to me?”

  “No problem,” she said, then reached past me and pulled the door open. “We’ll talk more in a couple of days,” she said loudly enough for the nurse outside the door to hear. “I’ll have more questions for you.”

  “I’ll help any way I can,” I said, and then mouthed “thank you” at her.

  She nodded, then brusquely moved me out of the way and pushed through the door. Soon, she was gone, and I was alone with the nurse.

  “Did that go well?” she asked.

  “It was all right,” I said. “I’ve dealt with her before.”