3
In a place wet with water, a warm wind blew. This wind had a particular smell, and it felt thicker, denser than a regular wind. The wind carried leaves of flesh, making them sway and touch whatever was close with a moist splash. There were noticeable pauses in the wind. It blew, first with force, and then during the span of a few seconds, the force diminished until the wind was no more. When the wind recharged, the process repeated.
Axel’s mouth tasted human: a different human than himself. Upon the discovery of this change, Axel woke. His eyes opened. They had to adjust to the dental light’s sting, as well as something else: the image of Humphrey Windrill blowing air into Axel’s mouth.
Axel recoiled in terror; his back drove into the chair and was now infected with pain. It felt more irritating than painful.
“That was so neat!” Humphrey uttered a laugh and clapped his hands. Axel couldn’t decide which sound was louder than the other. After Humphrey had crawled over his excitement from blowing air on the strips of skin and flesh hanging from Axel’s mouth, he nodded his head like a man who didn’t know what to say.
“Hello,” he said. He wore the same blue outfit as he had worn the day before, along with the same blue surgical mask. Axel could tell that it was the same one, for it looked wrinkled and strained from all the events it had to endure.
It was hard for Axel to talk, but he managed. The occasional bubble of saliva with blood rolled on his lips, as if he was a child who didn’t know any better and drank a bottle of shampoo. “Kill me,” Axel said. The strings of flesh, which hung from the roof of his mouth, were now greeted by struggled breathing. They swung in a manner similar to Humphrey blowing on them, only in the opposite direction now.
“That’s never going to get old!” Humphrey exclaimed. This time, he didn’t laugh or clap. Instead, he carried the smile of a man who had never grown up. Dimples were shown in two dents on each side of the surgical mask. The smile remained as a cruel reminder that Humphrey was having a grand time. “Look,” Humphrey said. “I’m not going to kill you. I’d rather not secure a place in hell. Killing you would be extremely wrong, and I’m not about that.”
The smile retreated, and the mask straightened out, no dimples in sight. Axel didn’t need to see Humphrey’s entire face to know that he was actually being serious. His eyes said it all.
“So you actually have morals?” The words rode on a slippery slope. Axel laughed. It felt wet in his throat, and the laugh reminded him of a man who laughed whilst on a cold, with all the snot in the back of the throat singing along.
“Of course I do! That’s what makes us humans, wouldn’t you say?”
Axel ran his tongue sideways against the strings of flesh, gluing them to the roof of his mouth like someone performing a comb-over.
“YOU REALLY THINK THAT WHAT YOU’RE DOING TO ME IS MORALLY CORRECT!?” Axel’s face turned into an oven. His eyebrows dived in a gesture of rage.
“I do!” No change occurred in Humphrey’s voice. Axel’s anger hadn’t reached him in any noticeable way. This made Axel even angrier. “How is not morally correct? I am gathering golden ideas, which will not only change my life but the life of others. As you may know, ideas can be shared. If they’re too complex for me to express how they work, then they’ll speak for themselves. What if The Valuables turn out to be the cure for cancer? Have you ever thought of that?”
“BUT YOU’RE HURTING ME IN THE PROCESS!” Axel’s voice roared from the pit of his stomach. “I NEVER AGREED TO BE PART OF YOUR SICK FUCKING FANTASY!”
“You also didn’t agree to be born, but here you are. Things happen. You’ve spent enough time on this planet to realize that sometimes things happen in which you have no say in. At least you’re part of the greater good, and you should be thankful for that. All major success comes with pain. I’m sorry that life works that way, but when The Valuables change the course of history, you’ll thank me.”
Axel tried to bellow his frustration and anger. All that came out of his mouth was air with some audible context. He tried to reach actual words, but his mind stuttered. He had no idea how to argue with someone this deluded.
At last, Axel gave up on talking. Tears ran down his face. Humphrey reached for his cup and caught them. Axel took immediate notice of the small amount of liquid at the bottom of the cup and moved his head to resist. Humphrey still managed to catch them.
“What are you doing?” The anger had left his words. They were replaced by the sobs of a broken man.
Humphrey said nothing. His face made somewhat humorous expressions, which Humphrey had no awareness or control of. He was too caught up in concentration. As Axel’s head kept moving in protest, the beetle came to life and sprinted beneath his gums. He had forgotten about his tiny black friend. The shock of this combined with the broken sadness made him seem like a man on the brink of death.
“GET IT OUT! GET THIS THING OUT! PLEASE—“
“Stay still,” Humphrey replied. “When you move around—“
“GET IT OUT!”
“—move around so much, it’ll make it worse; just relax.” Humphrey put his hands on each of Axel’s shoulders. They caught onto Axel’s movement and danced along until Humphrey applied pressure, eventually steadying him. “That’s it,” Humphrey whispered. “Hey, look at me.”
Unbelievably, Axel did.
“You need to relax. Take deep breaths, like this.” Humphrey demonstrated. His nostrils waved. Willing to do anything to stop the feeling of a live creature inside of his face, Axel complied.
Once he had gotten the hang of it, the beetle stopped moving. Axel straightened his head, remaining still with the caution of someone pretending to be a statue. His lips trembled, and he feared that the beetle would start moving again, any second. He looked at Humphrey with glittering eyes. “Please, get this thing out of me.”
“I can’t do that, crabby. The golden ideas cannot be rushed. If you rush them, then they become tainted with the intelligence and biased opinions of a human. Then they just become regular ideas. As long as you remain calm, and make no sudden movements, the beetle will play along, okay?”
“You have to get it—“
“In time, it will crawl out, and everything will be okay. It won’t be too long, I assure you.”
“If you don’t get it out, then I’ll kill it.”
The naked part of Humphrey’s face turned porcelain-white. “You wouldn’t dare.” His tone shifted. Humphrey Windrill seemed terrified.
Axel smirked. He had finally gotten some kind of emotional reaction from Humphrey. He had found a weak spot.
And maybe when I kill the beetle, Humphrey will finally go ballistic and kill me. Then I’ll finally be free of this nightmare.
In the meanwhile, Axel would entertain Humphrey with conversation. He would agree to Humphrey’s line of thinking, act friendly, and spark joy inside of him. He would make Humphrey so cheerful, and so giddy, that when the time came to squash a bug, Humphrey’s anger would be combined with confusion and disappointment; reaching another depth that would send him over the edge.
Humphrey experienced deep fear; Axel experienced joy. In this moment, Axel felt like how depression must feel when it witnesses the pain of others—power. Behind his eyes, Axel structured a plan, and he decided to act on it.
Axel smiled. “I’m just joking! Have you forgotten that I’m a comedian?”
Some color returned to Humphrey’s face. “I hate jokes!”
“I’m sorry, Humphrey. We got off on the wrong foot. Why don’t we start over? Go ahead, ask me something.”
Humphrey stared into the wall. “You mentioned that you have a mother. How come you only mentioned your mother, but not your father?”
Axel’s skin and expression molded into pieces of a puzzle. What an odd thing to ask under these circumstances. But, what wasn’t odd about Humphrey?
Axel tried to meet Humphrey’s eyes. When Humphrey continued to look away, Axel talked with the side of his eyeball. “I don
’t know where my father is. He left us at a young age.”
“Who are us? Do you mean you and your mother?”
Afraid that Humphrey would catch a lie, and the whole plan would be squandered, Axel decided that honesty was his best shot. “I also have a brother and a sister. We didn’t take it too hard. I mean, we never even remembered the guy. Growing up without a male parental figure in our lives went great, at least for us. My mother took it pretty hard, though.”
“I grew up without any kind of parental figure,” Humphrey said with a sigh. “Sure, I have a mother and a father, and both of them were present. However, they didn’t have any type of understanding. They loved me, and they treated me well, but they loved their own image of me—a false one. They knew that I had changed as I got older, but they never accepted me. Sometimes I would struggle to fit in my closet, close the door, and just sit in the dark. I’d feel the clothes brush the back of my neck. Their touch carried more love for me than my parents ever did. And I’d just sit there. I liked that.”
“You’re crazy,” Axel said, realizing that he was thinking out loud and feeling as if he started to shrink.
“I am not!” Humphrey started to circle around Axel. To Axel’s surprise, Humphrey didn’t look down at the floor but walked with his head leaning against his shoulders, eyes at the ceiling. “And by the way, crazy is a derogatory term. It’s like calling an African-American the N-word. The correct term is mentally ill.”
Axel opened his mouth to try and change the subject. He wanted to work on becoming friendly with Humphrey, but Humphrey continued to talk as he picked up the haste. “I try and better the world, and people call me mentally ill. Well, aren’t they mentally ill for having that opinion of someone who just wants to better lives? The ones who read the news every day, somehow finding joy in reading about death and destruction are the mentally ill; the ones who can enjoy eggs and toast while reading about death and destruction, sipping on their coffee, not feeling a damn thing. Those people, crabby, are the mentally ill.
“The doctors, who think that they have the power to judge a person’s fate, are mentally ill. Anyone who thinks they are subject to that kind of power must have something loose in their head. Those kinds of people follow orders from other people without asking questions. They don’t question the orders because that would get them in trouble, or worse, fired. Letting someone have that kind of control over you means that you are mentally ill. But not me, oh no, I don’t follow people; I follow the Verse-of-U.
“All of the answers lay upon the blue sky. Do you ever wonder how many people are brought to peace by staring at it? The number is too large for my head. I don’t know why, but people look beyond the blue sky for their prayers, way beyond. They’re staring right at the answers. The blue sky is right there. The blue blanket of safety is right there, crabby! I don’t understand why they don’t understand. They complicate things when the answer is right in front of their eyes. It’s so simple, but they just don’t see it.”
Humphrey stopped walking. He still looked upward, with arms dangling. Axel, now a giant question mark, painted with the colors of apprehension, laced his fingers together behind his back. He felt as if he might collapse if he didn’t add a physical remedy to all of the thoughts placed in his mind. Perhaps the scariest thing was that Axel understood Humphrey to a certain degree. He didn’t see the same logic, and he certainly didn’t fully agree, but Humphrey still had a point.
I understood a thought from Humphrey…
It was almost funny. Yet, thunder still crashed down in the dark, depressing place of Axel’s mind, adding a layer of fear. To be able to understand Humphrey’s thought patterns meant what? Had the traumatization of his recent timeline stomped him down onto another level of reality? One where he could understand people like to an extent? And, if that was the case, would he eventually lose his concept of sanity?
Axel thought about this with great depth. In the silence, which had now risen in the room, another idea came to him. The fact that he had been able to peek into Humphrey’s mind and seen some dots of logic could mean something else.
It could mean that Humphrey is neither sane nor insane, but dancing on the edge of both; leaning more toward insane, however, still keeping his toes on the side of sanity. If there are crumbs of logic in his insanity, then he’s not yet fully insane. Can he switch between the two? Is that how he has managed to survive? By playing into the hands of society, acting sane?
Along with this idea came a horrifying image, rubbing ice cubes up and down Axel’s bones: how Humphrey would act if he became fully insane.
The amount of thinking took Axel out of reality for a moment. When Humphrey started talking again, his voice acted like an alarm clock.
“Well, I think it’s time to experience some blue anesthesia. I’m taking you somewhere.”
4
Humphrey pushed a hospital bed through the door. The pillow and sheets were stained and infected with huge fluffs of dust. Chains laid in a mess in the middle of the bed, reminding Axel of the snake mating season. On the last stretch toward Axel, Humphrey jumped onto the metal bar that supported the wheels of the bed, riding the bed like a playful kid toward his destination. Humphrey’s tongue, full of life, moved inside of the surgical mask. Axel saw how it danced with excitement as the speed picked up.
The bed now stood next to Axel. Humphrey gathered the chains. He slung most of them over his neck and carried the rest in his hands.
“Okay then, crabby, here’s the deal: I’m going to unlock your chains. I want you to hop onto the bed, and lay as straight as an arrow so I can chain you to the bed with minimum effort. I want you to promise me that you won’t try anything, okay?”
Axel said: “I promise.”
Axel thought: Fuck you.
Humphrey bent down with the keys and started to dig through the chains behind Axel. Axel felt Humphrey’s hair poke against his lower back, like a crooked forest full of twigs. The lock popped. Chains were pulled off in a downward spiral. Humphrey started grunting with each pull until he reached the last of the chains. When he walked back around, markings of his mouth ajar in a constant tired breath were seen through the surgical mask. Exhausted, Humphrey sat down on his rump next to the chair. Axel looked toward the door. It stood wide open.
If I try to escape, he’ll realize that I can’t be trusted, and then he’ll kill me. And if I do succeed in escaping, I can try to reach a phone, and call Susanne or mom.
Axel knew their numbers from memory.
Either way, it’s a win-win.
He ran for it, lunging from the chair. Blood hadn’t yet returned to his legs, and Axel fell forward with a crash. He felt how his legs started to tickle as they struggled to awake. He went up again, hopping two steps before he fell once more. Axel screamed. He supported his weight with his arms, crawling forward. The floor felt cold against him. He felt the cold rush from his forearms to his shoulders, eventually reaching his neck, where it broke apart in shivers. The beetle panicked beneath his gums.
Axel, now halfway across the room, observed how the feeling of his legs tickling was oddly similar to the feeling of having a beetle sprint beneath his flesh. The buttons of his shirt scraped against the floor and were pushed back into his chest and stomach. His thoughts were arguing about whether or not he should look behind him, to become aware of Humphrey’s current location. Axel decided to glance backward; he didn’t know if he did it to stop the argument in his head, or because of his own morbid curiosity.
Humphrey sat in the chair where Axel himself had been, seconds ago. He clapped his hands, cheering. Axel gave one last push to stand up. All of his muscles tightened. His legs returned some physical awareness. As he stumbled forward, preparing to sprint for the door, he looked like a man with a bad limp. His feet dragged along the floor. On occasion, they would twist, and face the floor sideways. Axel tripped, almost fell, but caught his balance on the last second.
His weight slammed into the metal door, and the m
etal door greeted him back in a loud echo. Axel reached a dark, narrow corridor. A small amount of light came from single lightbulbs, as if the darkness had a case of gleaming chickenpox. The first lightbulb was a full-on bright grin, but the others were mere smirks in the dark. Axel ran forward, trying to sprint in a straight line.
“Straight as an arrow…”
In the midst of his sprint, he noticed how far the corridor reached. Other corridors intersected on each side, but they contained no light. They resembled black holes. Wheelchairs and other hospital beds were stacked against the walls in a neat fashion. When Axel reached the third lightbulb, his legs turned fully functional. His arms rode the wind. He was already out of the light, back into the dark, approaching the next lightbulb, far away. Some parts of the floor were shiny, despite all the dust and dirt. Echoes of his running feet against the floor were in sync with the rapid beating of his heart. He was close to the fourth lightbulb now and began to see dust the size of bats float in the darkness, like stars across a night sky.
Behind him, distant footsteps sent soundwaves down the narrow corridor. Axel felt their vibrations. The walls carried their sound. Water inside of his body turned into gasoline and was set on fire, burning his insides. Still, he picked up his speed, now racing past the fifth lightbulb, heading toward the sixth—the last one. Everything turned into a blur; even the darkness turned into a low resolution in his haste. The strings of flesh in his mouth were thrown backward. His tiny black friend sprinted along with him, burrowing in and out of his gums.
With his right shoulder, Axel crashed into a large door. Pain began to pulsate on the right side of his body. The door had an eerie resemblance to the one in Axel’s room, only larger, and with a sign above it. Axel brought the handle of the door down, pushing it first from him, and then against him. Nothing; it had been chained shut. He paid attention to his surroundings. That’s when he saw it. The sign above the door spelled out three numbers.
363.
Axel began running toward his room, thinking that he could run down one of the darker corridors on the side.
Blue Anesthesia Page 12