“How is that even possible?” I’d asked while we took our five-minute break on the maternity ward floor that night.
She shrugged. “It’s sort of a hush hush thing, nestled into the hills and basically forgotten. It was privately started and is apparently still owned by some wealthy family. The rich stow away their horrors there, and everyone just zips up and pretends it doesn’t exist, or so she’s said. She was desperate for an internship, and apparently her mom knew someone who worked there. Said they weren’t picky, which was what she needed. She had terrible grades.”
“Where is this place?” I’d asked out of morbid curiosity, trying to wrap my head around the fact that a place like that even existed in the modern world.
“It’s called Redwood, and it’s about ten miles from the center of a rich little town called Oakwood. The town works hard to make everyone sort of forget about it. My friend, Brittany, said it’s horrifying there. She swore it was haunted. But she did say that basically management is non-existent, and they’ll hire anyone, so she was happy for the opportunity. She told me they even had an ex-convict working there. And she swore some of the nurses weren’t even certified. But that’s just Brittany talking. She’s pretty dramatic, after all. Who knows, though. Seems like a creepy little place if you want to sort of disappear from the real world, I guess.”
I had no idea that a year later, I’d be putting that knowledge to good use.
It had seemed like an insane idea at the time, but I was desperate. And when I was trying to figure out just where to land, Redwood thumped in my head.
Brittany was right in some ways. Redwood basically would hire anyone. Once they saw my license for nursing, they practically begged me to start the next day. Apparently, asylum medicine in the middle of the wilderness was not a sought-after job, and due to the family background of some of the patients, they were discreet. They didn’t advertise openly for positions, which made it hard to find quality people. Word of mouth seemed to be the way people were hired, or family friends. I was an outsider, a rarity, but there was something they liked about me apparently.
I’d been nervous because I’d walked off the job at Mercy without a two-week notice, so I figured the references wouldn’t be positive if they’d called. But there was no need. I was hired on the spot, thrown into the hospital with Anna as my guide, and that was that. Easy, at least as far as the formalities go.
Digging into my rocky road ice cream, I reflected on the day. I thought about 5B and the way he looked at me, those eerie eyes. What must it be like to be one of the forgotten in Redwood, to be left behind by your family? Sure, the place touted treatment options and state-of-the-art mental health experts—none of which I’d seen yet—but even with my limited time there, I could see through the ruse.
You didn’t go to Redwood to get better; you went to Redwood to be stowed away.
I shuddered from the cold of the ice cream on my tongue and from the thought. No wonder Brittany thought the place was haunted. It didn’t take an expert or a paranormal team to understand the anger, the hurt, the suffering that would happen in those walls. Not to mention the horrific treatments that happened and were probably still happening there.
Maybe that’s why I ended up there. Maybe it’s fate, I thought to myself as I flipped through some dating shows on the television. Maybe I could set things right after all by making life a little bit better for the residents at Redwood. I could show compassion and hope. That was it, I decided. I would find a purpose in the unsettling stone walls, bring some light into the creeping feeling of darkness.
But later, when I settled onto my overly firm mattress and covered myself with the threadbare comforter I’d brought, visions of the cells, memories of the screams echoed in my mind. And that night, my dreams were haunted, not just by the sights and horrors of Redwood. I woke up shrieking in agony, realizing that no matter how far I went, the truth would always be just under the surface, waiting to disturb my peace even in the blankness of sleep.
Chapter Three
The following Monday, I was scheduled for my first night shift with Anna. Driving up to Redwood, my headlights barely illuminating the winding path through the dense fog, I shivered at the thought of what might await. I’d grown accustomed to the routine of the day shift, which Anna had trained me on. Now, though, nights would mostly be my realm.
Anna swore the best workers were put on nights because it was, by far, the easiest shift. It was a reward, she’d assured. Most patients mercifully slept, except for the extremely disturbed. Redwood was quieter, more manageable at night.
“Except for the random occurrence,” Anna said, shrugging.
I didn’t know what that meant, but it seemed ominous. Of course, Redwood was already harrowing by daylight. How much worse could it get?
Anna had given me more freedom Monday. I apparently had put in enough time to learn the ins and outs of the place. In truth, my medical background made the job fairly easy to pick up. The standards at Redwood were much lower than my last hospital job, the routines much less perfect. Rules were bent, and record keeping wasn’t up to par with what I was used to. I found myself with more time to think, to breathe, to talk to the other staff. I even found myself growing used to the groanings and churnings of Redwood, from the screechy doors to the screaming patients. It was odd what you could get used to, even in a short amount of time. I made my way through a few patient check-ins on the fourth floor, filling in for a nurse who had called in sick. Then, I ambled up to the top floor, where Anna sat at the front desk.
“There you are, newbie. How goes it?” she asked, chewing some gum loudly as she swiveled in the desk chair. “Ready for rounds up here?”
In the A and B wing on the top floor, two were required for most rooms as a safety precaution. Of course, as Anna had told me, this rule was also frequently bent because of staff shortages. I was glad that night, there were two of us. She chatted on about her weekend with Brad, her husband, and the trip to the lake. I nodded, peeking in windows as Anna took notes. Overall, the floor was dull. Quiet. No one really stirred, which was fine by me. Most were sleeping, either naturally or I suspected thanks to some medication strategically dispensed late at night. We got to 5B, though, and Anna audibly inhaled. Tension marked her features, which made me shrivel up a bit, too.
“Let’s see what he’s up to tonight,” she murmured, actually performing the sign of the cross as a joke—maybe. “Tina does weekend shifts, and she said last night was wild.”
“How so?” I asked, transferring my weight to my other foot. I needed to know what to expect.
“Said he was having one of his spells. He gets violent sometimes. Smashing his fists, screaming about blue and red. Imaginary friends or something, who knows.”
“What’s his story?” I asked, wrapping my arms around myself.
Anna sighed. “Same as many of them. Traumatic past. PTSD from Iraq, from what we’ve diagnosed. No one close to really take care of him, no family. A mind just falls into a trench sometimes. When you’re all alone like that and something awful happens.”
I squeezed my fingers tight and bit my lip, listening intently as she continued on.
“Apparently, a year or so after he got back from Iraq, they found him in his front lawn, a gun in his hands. Neighbors called the police on him. He was crying, marching around the lawn in front of his place arguing with several people. Except there was no one there, of course. He was shouting that little blue and little red needed to go away, and all sorts of nonsensical things. He actually started shooting at the air. Long story short, he never got set straight. After someone who served with him in Iraq footed the bill, he ended up here where he could be treated. You see how well that’s worked. We’ve tried various therapies, but none of it has worked. It’s a shame, too. He’s one of the younger ones.”
I walked up to the door now, saddened by the story. Sometimes it just takes one trauma to set your life on a completely different path. I pressed my face slowly to the w
indow in the door, feeling odd peeking in on him during his sleep. But when I put my face up to the window, I jumped backward, a sinking feeling of terror grappling with my heart.
“Jesus,” I screamed, my heart pounding. For when I put my head to the window, he was there, one wild gray eye pointed at me. I hadn’t been expecting him to be awake. It was as if he were waiting.
A pounding on the door started slowly, rhythmically.
“Come in. They’re waiting. They need you. They need you.” His voice was breathy and labored as if he were breathing through a straw.
“Oh, shit. He’s awake. Let’s hope there isn’t a replay of last night. I don’t want to have to subdue him. He’s stronger than he looks, trust me.”
“What do we do?” I asked, afraid to peek back in the window.
Anna shrugged. “For now, we walk away. Let him tire himself out. It’s not like he can really do too much damage. Last night, apparently he made some lovely paintings with excrement on the walls, though. Let’s hope that doesn’t replay. It’s mostly just frustrating because if his yelling wakes up 4B, then we’re doomed.”
A shriek like a wild hyena echoed in 5B and cut straight through me. The pounding and yelling continued.
“Jessica. He needs you. Please. Make him stop.”
“What’s he mean?” I asked, Anna already walking away, accustomed to it all.
“Who knows. Listen, you can’t read into it. He’s crazy. The mind plays evil tricks. Come on. It’ll be okay.”
I bit my lip again, feeling an odd pull to him. Maybe it was just fascination, morbid attachment. I wanted to stay and watch, but a piece of me also wanted to run far, far away.
We continued our rounds on the wing, not really doing too much. There’s not a lot a person can do in an empty cell, after all. Other than a few screamers and a few wandering in their rooms, all were pretty quiet. When we got back to the B wing, I noticed that the man inside was still chanting random things, but it was quieter now. Weepier even. I sat down on the desk chair, wheeling about, thinking about what it must be like. What had he seen that had driven him mad? What potential had been taken from him?
“Chin up, sunshine. It gets easier, it really does. Give it another week, you won’t give him a second thought. Now 1A, that’s a different story. That one’s a biter. I’m telling you, her teeth are wicked. She chewed through that guy’s. . . well, you’ve heard the story, I’m sure. Oh, look at that. Break time. Our relief will be coming. Mind if I cut out a minute early and just meet you in the break room in a few? I’ve got to go make a call, tell Brad to make sure the stove is turned off. I do worry about that thing.”
I nodded as I waited at the chair for our relief, wheeling back and forth to the rhythm of 5B’s chant. Anna headed down the stairwell, pulling her phone out to call Brad. I was alone except for the ten souls on the top floor, some of whom didn’t feel so alone in their cells. I shuddered at the thought.
I turned and filed a few papers, keeping my hands busy to keep my mind still. I glanced to the right, down the hallway of wing A. Something caught my eye, and I did a doubletake. A shadow at the end of the long hallway. I was certain of it. As I stared, it jumped along the wall, accompanied by a wild giggle.
My heart pounded. Had one of the cell’s doors remained open? I squinted down the dimly lit corridor. My hand hovered over the panic button as I wondered just how quickly the security guard who often lingered on floor one could be up there. But just as my fingers prepared to push it, the giggle got closer and the shadow moved down the hallway toward me. I blinked, making sure I wasn’t imagining it, the night shift already getting to me. Closer and closer the giggle came until suddenly, the files I’d just finished flew off the desk, violently crashing to the ground. And then, as quickly as they appeared, the shadow and the giggle were gone. All was silent again, the only noise my haggard breathing as I tried to assess what the hell just happened. Suddenly, something brushed against my shoulder. I screamed, turning to face the figure.
“Whoa, easy newbie. Just coming to give you a break. Butter fingers or what?” the cool and collected nurse from floor three said, brushing aside his Justin Bieber haircut. His voice sounded like that of a surfer or someone highly under the influence of some relaxants. He gestured at the files on the floor. I shook my head, scrambling to pick them up.
“I . . . no . . . I just. . . “
“Dude, chill. I get it. Josephine’s at it again.” He shook his head, grinning.
“What?”
“Josephine. She frequents this floor. Died in the early 1900s or some shit. She was young when her parents put her here, said she was too spirited. Some of the nurses liked her, though, and let her skip through the halls on quiet evenings. They used to keep the young ones up here back in the day, apparently. She died of Tuberculosis, but they say she still lives here, if you know what I mean. Harmless, really. She likes to dick around with files and stuff. But she’s not one to fear.”
I stared at him disbelieving. This must be part of their hazing of the new staff, I thought to myself. I shook my head and scurried around the desk, heading toward the stairs.
“Please don’t quit. We’re not supposed to tell the newbies about the hauntings until a few weeks in. We can’t afford to lose another nurse. I can’t work those doubles again, you know? Honestly, it’s fine. They’re mostly harmless.”
I turned around to see if he was smiling, but his face was surprisingly stoic. What the hell? This place was getting weirder and weirder. It was like in Beauty and the Beast where everyone had forgotten about the castle. Except here, it was like everyone was forgotten by choice, like I was living in some alternate universe where asylums still existed—and haunted ones at that. I headed down to the break room to grab my yogurt and tea from the fridge.
“You look pale, chica. Are you okay?” a younger woman sitting at the table asked.
“Fine, thanks,” I replied, sitting down in one of the sad metal chairs. Anna was in the corner of the room chatting to Brad. She animatedly walked back and forth, talking with her hands.
“I’m Roxy. And you are?” The woman asked, her long black hair cascading down her shoulders. She was beautiful and young, worthy of magazines and flashing lights instead of the garish Redwood lighting.
“Jessica. I’m new here,” I answered shyly.
“No kidding, girlfriend. Everyone’s been talking about the new meat.” She winked at me and gave a sassy wiggle of her shoulders.
I eyed her suspiciously as I popped open my yogurt.
She laughed. “Ease up, honey. Just kidding. Sort of. Look, we don’t always get newbies around here, and when we do, well, they rarely last a day. So you’re kind of a big deal.”
“Why not?” I asked, aiming my spoon over the yogurt, staring at her as she fixed her long, black ponytail.
“You’ve been here long enough. You must understand at this point.”
I smiled. “It’s definitely an interesting place.”
“Well, it does pay the bills, though. And it’s pretty laid back. Honestly, some of the patients are good. Your floor is a toughie, though. But you’ve got a good mentor with you.”
“How long have you been here?” I asked, easing into the conversation. Roxy had kind, almond-shaped eyes. I liked her, I could tell.
“Five years. They say once you settle in, it’s hard to escape. I get that now. Something about this place just kind of sticks to you. If you don’t leave right away, you just don’t leave.”
“Sounds ominous,” I replied truthfully.
“You’ll get used to it. Anyway, tell me more about you. Why’d you come here?”
I stared at the label on my yogurt, swirling my spoon. I knew this question would come up. I should’ve planned for it, but honestly, I’d been avoiding it even in my own mind. I shrugged. It was better to stick to a truth, after all.
“Needed a new start. I wanted to go somewhere I could sort of blend in, you know? And I’ve always been interested in mental heal
th.”
“Fair enough. Listen, we’re glad you’re here. We don’t always get the cream of the crop, but Anna’s been raving about you and your medical knowledge. I heard about how you got that shot in Mrs. Gilman’s arm so quickly when you got pulled down there. Not an easy feat.”
I smiled bashfully, swallowing a spoonful of the yogurt before speaking up, realizing something. “Mrs. Gilman?”
“Yeah. She’s Floor 4, room 2A. I know we use the numbers, but, well, I don’t know. Kind of makes me sad, you know? Like they’ve lost so much already of their identity. Can’t we at least keep their names?”
I liked that., pausing to smile and hoping maybe I could follow her lead. Maybe Redwood wasn’t all bad.
“So you worked on my floor?” I asked.
“Yeah, for a little while. Floor 5 isn’t so bad except for Robert. You probably know him as 5B. Honestly, he was too much.”
An overpowering feeling brewed in the pit of my stomach.
“Anna said the same thing. I mean, is he really that bad?”
“You wait. You’ll see. It’s not so much in his actions. It’s just, I don’t know. There’s something in his eyes. Something different than just madness. Something darker. It wasn’t just him that made me move floors, but it was one of the reasons.”
“Did Josephine have something to do with it?”
“Josephine? Oh, Jesus. Did Brett tell you about her? That kid’s so annoying.” She rolled her eyes, opening a chocolate bar and leaning back in her chair. Anna had hung up and came to join us at our table.
“Did I hear you say Josephine? Oh, Lord. Is Brett at it again?” Anna asked.
“So he was just teasing?” I asked, studying the two women. I didn’t want to own up to what I’d seen that made me know Brett wasn’t joking, but I didn’t want to give too much away. I was new. I needed to walk that precarious tight beam of being vulnerable and maintaining an air of professionalism.
The Redwood Asylum: A Paranormal Horror Page 2