PALINDROME

by Lawrence Kelter

  All that grass in the air made me sneeze, and I became bored with the evening breeze. I turned and walked to the front door. As I put my key in the lock, the lamp alongside the door sputtered on and off. I twisted the bulb, and it stayed on. It was just loose.

  “I’m home.” A light was on in the back of the condo where the bedrooms were located. “Ax, I’m home.” I was surprised when he didn’t answer. Ax was not known for robust greetings, but a simple acknowledgment was well within my brother’s repertoire. “Yo, are you home?” I put my bag and keys down on the table and walked toward the bedrooms. I had just passed through the kitchen when I was attacked. Someone grabbed me from behind and crushed me in their grip. A hand covered my mouth. I struggled to get free, but my attacker was very strong. My efforts yielded no results. I felt my heart pound nervously in my chest as panic shot through me.

  “Just settle down,” my attacker said. It was a man’s voice. That was all I knew.

  I was getting frantic. I searched for a solution. I tried to visualize Ax. I tried to envision his muscular frame. I needed his strength to fight free, but I was in too much of a panic to concentrate. Calm down, I told myself. Calm down. Focus. I was not Ax. I was not a martial artist, but I tried to remember some of the things he had taught me. I jammed my elbow into my attacker’s gut with all the force I could muster. I heard a muffled gasp, and then I stepped back, bringing all of my weight down on his foot.

  “Bitch!” he howled.

  I broke free, but it was only for an instant. He quickly recovered and pounced on me. The two of us landed in a heap on the floor.

  “Hey, douchebag, how about a little help?” he called.

  Christ, who was he calling out to? He was on top of me, pinning me to the floor. I could see his face clearly. He had pale skin, but his face was flush from exertion. I didn’t recognize him. He didn’t seem even remotely familiar. “Get off me! Who the hell are you?” I screamed, and he smacked me across the face.

  “Shut up or I’ll knock your teeth out,” he said. “Hey, asshole,” he called out again. “Get your ass in here.”

  I was struggling as best I could, squirming and rocking back and forth on the floor, but he had his weight on me, preventing me from breaking free. He straddled me and pinned my arms to the floor.

  I heard footsteps approaching. I saw a pair of sneaker-clad feet. I looked up and saw that it was Keith Cooper. I panicked. My breathing became rapid and shallow. Oh, dear God, I thought, he’s here to get even.

  “Is this her?” the man holding me asked. “Is this the one on the video?”

  On the video? What is he talking about? What video?

  Cooper stood over me. He was eating an apple. I was surprised. He was staring at me blankly. There seemed to be no connection. It certainly wasn’t the look I’d expect from someone who had come to take his revenge.

  “Yeah,” Cooper said, “Looks like her.” He crunched down on the apple again, tearing out a huge chunk. I could hear him pulverizing the crisp fruit with his back teeth. “She looks like the girl from the bar. Tie her up.”

  The girl from the bar? He was not here for Allie. He was here for Lexa, the girl whose drink he had drugged at the Suds Shack. But what about the video that was mentioned? What was that about?

  “Can you put the apple down for two minutes and help me. I’ve only got two hands,” the man holding me said.

  “All right, chill out, Shawn. I’m on it,” Cooper said with irritation in his voice.

  “Great, use my name,” Shawn said. “Are you some kind of retard?” Shawn was sweating like a pig. I noticed that he had a nervous twitch. His pupils were dilated. I knew exactly what that meant. He was a doper.

  Keith Cooper walked back to the kitchen and returned with a roll of duct tape. “Roll her over, and I’ll tape her wrists,” he said.

  I heard the sound of the tape being yanked from the roll. “What do you want from me?” I pleaded. “What did I do?”

  “On second thought . . .” Cooper said. He tore off a small piece of tape and pasted it over my mouth. “Who wants to hear all that squawking? Roll her over. Pin her wrists, and I’ll tape them.”

  I tried to kick Shawn but couldn’t get enough leverage to do any damage. I was face down in the next instant. I fought to keep them from binding my wrists but couldn’t. They pulled my feet together and taped my ankles. I felt Shawn let go of me as soon as they had finished binding me.

  “How’s that?” Shawn asked.

  “Perfect!” The response did not come from Keith Cooper. There was a new voice in the room, the voice of another man. I rolled over to see a gun with a long silencer pressed against Keith Cooper’s head. I screamed, but it was muted and barely audible past my taped mouth. My eyes widened, and then I heard a muffled discharge as the side of Keith’s skull exploded. His body collapsed as if he was a puppet whose strings had been severed.

  Shawn was not quick. He was covered with the discharge of Keith Cooper’s blood. He rose slowly and clumsily. The shooter moved quickly. He stepped over Cooper’s body to get to Shawn. “What the—” Shawn said. His mouth was still wide open with surprise when the shooter forced the silenced muzzle of his gun into Shawn’s mouth and pulled the trigger. Shawn fell backward. His hollowed-out skull collided with my end table before his lifeless body settled on the old carpet.

  The shooter turned toward me. I was panicked, panting, and struggling for breath. The man who had just murdered two men in my living room had a menacing glint in his eyes as he reached into his suit pocket and removed a loaded hypodermic syringe. He uncapped it, purged the air, and stepped toward me.

  Twenty-six: Where Am I?

  I heard muted voices in the distance but I was unable to open my eyes. It felt like an eternity while I struggled to wake up, but I was hopelessly groggy and could not come to. I felt as if I were lost in a dream. Emilio was there. So was Ax. The three of us were naked. We were swimming in tropical waters and trying to make our way to the surface. I could see the sun in the sky, its rays reaching down to us and bending as they hit the water’s surface. A school of fluorescent, colored fish swam around us as we continued to swim in place unable to make progress. I turned from Ax to Emilio. Neither of them seemed concerned about being unable to reach the surface. They both looked content. Small bubbles of air escaped from their lips and noses and rose toward the surface.

  “You understand what I want?” Voices seemed to move in and out. I would catch a few words and lose the rest. “Follow my instructions.” I began to regain a sense of self. I was lying flat on what was presumably a bed. It seemed as if I was indoors. Memories began to flood back. I remembered being attacked in my home and being wrestled to the floor. I remembered the murders. I could see the flash of the gun as it ripped off Keith’s head and then Shawn’s. I could feel myself fighting to wake up. I was trembling in my sleep. I could feel beads of sweat break out across my forehead. “She’s coming to. Remember what I said.” I perceived the sound of footsteps, leather soles slapping against a hard floor that sent a harsh echo with each step. I heard the closing of a heavy door. I wondered if the murderer was standing over me and if he was still holding his gun. What was going on? How did it involve me? I bravely opened my eyes and squinted to blot out the glare from an overhead lighting fixture. The fixture was covered by a metal security housing to protect the glass. I found it puzzling, but then, there was a lot that I had yet to understand. It took a long moment until I recognized the clinical setting: cinderblock walls were painted a tranquil shade of pale green. The door that I had heard close was a metal security door with a square observation panel. “Hey,” I called out in a woozy voice. I couldn’t lift my head but was aware of someone’s presence in the room. “Hey, where am I?” A woman walked over to where I was in bed. Her hair was back in a ponytail, and she was wearing scrubs. “How did I get here?” I asked.

  “You just remain calm,” The woman instructed. There was not a shred of warmth or compassion in her voice.


  “Is this a hospital?”

  “Yes. You’re at East Pines. Your doctor’s name is Rosen.”

  “Why am I here?”

  “You can discuss that with Dr. Rosen. He’ll be back after dinner.”

  “After dinner? What time is it now?” Everything seemed out of whack. I had no sense of what had transpired since being attacked in my home.

  She checked her watch. I noticed that her nametag read: Evelyn. “About 10:00 a.m. Are you in any pain?”

  “I have a headache.”

  “Do you want medication for that?”

  “Medication? No, it’s just a headache.”

  Evelyn made a note on her clipboard. “Do you have to go to the bathroom?”

  “No.”

  “Good. I’ll be back to bring you lunch. Squeeze the buzzer if you need the restroom.”

  “Squeeze the buzzer?”

  “Yup, squeeze the buzzer.” Evelyn cracked her gum. She turned and left the room.

  I knew that I should have been in a full-blown panic, but I felt as if my emotions were suppressed. Whatever I had been injected with must have still been in my system. My head began to hurt even worse. I wanted to touch my head, but my arms felt so heavy. I just couldn’t move them. I realized why my arms felt so heavy: my wrists were in restraints.

  Twenty-seven: Questions

  “When am I getting out of here?”

  “You’re getting agitated,” Evelyn said. “If you don’t calm down you’ll have to be sedated. Do you understand?”

  “I don’t belong here. What the hell is going on?” Whatever I had been injected with had worn off, and I was beginning to feel like myself. I was nervous, angry, and stressed out of my mind.

  “Listen, the law says you have to be examined within forty-eight hours of being admitted. I already told you; Dr. Rosen will be here after dinner. So just calm yourself, you’re not the only patient in the hospital.”

  “What kind of hospital has steel doors and restrains their patients?”

  “I already told you, you’re in East Pines, a private psychiatric hospital in Kings Park.”

  “Psychiatric hospital? I don’t belong here.”

  “Good, I hope Dr. Rosen agrees. I’d love to see you on your way so that you can break someone else’s stones. Now, do you have to pee?”

  “Yes, I have to pee.”

  “I’ll get you a bedpan.”

  I wanted to cry. I wanted to bury my face in my hands and cry. “Can’t you just let me go to the bathroom?”

  “Strict orders. The doctor said you’re to remain restrained until he examines you.”

  “I won’t use a bedpan.”

  “Great! I can’t wait until you wet the bed. I love changing pissy sheets.”

  “This is wrong.”

  “Yes, it’s wrong,” she said indifferently, “Now, can I get the bedpan?”

  “No, I’ll hold it.”

  “Another six hours? God bless, honey, good luck.” Evelyn wasn’t big on pleasantries. She went to the sink and washed her hands. She dried them and picked up a lunch tray. “Cream of turkey soup and a tuna fish sandwich. Isn’t this yummy? And I get to feed you every last morsel. Lucky me. Hungry?”

  “No.”

  “Well, the law says we have to feed you so let’s give it a try, shall we?”

  “I told you, I don’t want anything.”

  “Okay, I’ll leave it here, and you can squeeze the buzzer when you get hungry or have to pee, whichever comes first. The soup will get nice and cold, and the tuna will turn brown and smelly. Sure you don’t want to eat it now before it stinks up the room?”

  “I want to talk to my brother.”

  “I’ll tell the hospital administrator. She’ll make the call for you.”

  I didn’t know what else to do. I considered asking for the police but thought better of the idea. I didn’t know if Vincent’s body had been found. Patience, girl, I told myself, it will be all right. Ax will come for me. He always does.

  Twenty-eight: It Gets Worse

  Sam Rosen emerged from Bruce’s Bakery, got into his 6.3 liter AMG Mercedes Benz, and headed south on Middle Neck Road to the Long Island Expressway. The car was equipped with Bluetooth, and he could have talked “hands free” but didn’t. He never did. He took a bite of his grilled chicken wrap and then dialed Sparks while he chewed his food. The phone rang on the other end, but Sparks didn’t pick up. It was not unusual, Sparks rarely answered when called. Rosen had made it all the way to the Sunken Meadow Parkway and was headed north to Kings Park when Sparks called back. Rosen swallowed the last of his coffee and then answered the phone. “Sparks, I’m on my way to East Pines, but I have to tell you, I don’t like this.”

  “This isn’t the complaint department, Dr. Rosen. We have an agreement, and we expect you to carry out your end of the deal.”

  “For Christ’s sake, I’m not even a psychiatrist.”

  “I told you, the law doesn’t care that you’re not a psychiatrist. You’re a physician, and that’s all the law requires. You signed the PEC, so everything’s good and legal.”

  “I’m not trained to treat a mentally ill patient. I can do her more harm than good.”

  “She’s not going to get hurt. Keep her sedated, and we’ll release her in a couple of days. Surely you can do that competently.”

  “Do we even know what’s wrong with this girl? This goes against every oath I’ve ever taken.”

  “Of course it does, but you’ve got a sick child in a very expensive private rehabilitation facility, a cranky wife who has Bloomingdale’s on speed dial, and the IRS is breathing down your neck. You need money, don’t you? You want to stay out of jail, don’t you? You’ve been indicted for running a pill mill by the federal government. How would you like your family to live with that shame? I had you released from custody without even spending a night in jail. I think you should get down on your knees and thank me.”

  “Okay, I got it, I got it.”

  “No, Dr. Rosen, I don’t think you understand. You could lose your license and do serious jail time. Despite the big house and fancy car, you and I know both know that you don’t have two nickels to rub together. You’ve been dispensing illegal controlled substances—”

  “Which you supplied me with.”

  “We did what?” Sparks spat in a threatening tone. “Go ahead, tell the authorities. We’ll see how quickly you end up dead. Screw you, Dr. Rosen, you’re ass is up against the wall.” The phone went dead.

  Rosen saw his exit coming up. He pulled the Mercedes off onto the shoulder, got out, and walked into the brush that bordered the highway. He felt a wave of nausea rise up from his stomach. He leaned over and retched. “Shit! This is bad,” he said. “What the hell have I gotten myself into?” He stared at his car and the passing traffic for several minutes hoping the nausea would subside. Ten minutes passed before he finally got back into the car. He was still nauseous when he started the car and pulled back onto the road.

  Twenty-nine: And Worse

  I was miserable. My back ached and my hands were numb from the wrist restraints. It took every last ounce of self-control to keep from wetting the bed. I was now completely lucid and had spent the afternoon thinking about the events that had transpired the evening before. I reviewed the assault in my home, the attack by Keith Cooper and Shawn, and their murders. What was going on? I wanted to find the answer, but the pieces didn’t fit together. All I could think of was that Vincent’s body had been found and that I was the last one to be seen with him. Vincent and Keith were linked by the dose of GHB Keith had dropped into my margarita. I could only assume that Shawn was another of Vincent’s friends, someone close enough to him to come after me for answers. But who had murdered them? I was turning the pieces over in my mind when the door opened. A physician walked in followed by Evelyn. “Oh thank God,” I bellowed. “Please, doctor, I’m about to burst. I have to go to the bathroom.”

  The doctor turned to Evelyn; his expression showed tha
t he was looking for an explanation. He didn’t speak.

  “She refused the bedpan,” she said.

  His face contorted in disgust. “So you let her lie there?”

  Evelyn shrugged. “She has a buzzer.” Her expression read, I could care less.

  “Get me 2 ml of Valium.” He seemed bewildered. He continued to stare at Evelyn in disbelief as she walked out of the room. He shook his head and then turned to me.

  His demeanor didn’t convey much information, but I found hope in it all the same. At that moment, the only thing on my mind was getting to the bathroom before I wet myself. “Please, I have to go.”

  “I’ll have you up in two seconds,” he said. “I’m Dr. Rosen.”

  The door opened, and Evelyn returned with a syringe. She handed it to Rosen, who took it without making eye contact with her. “You can go,” he said.