“I really don’t think that’s necessary,” Rick began, when suddenly Clara took a step back, anger shooting from every pore.
“I am not going into fucking seclusion again! I hate it there!” Clara attempted to dart past the group of adults, but the very large Officer James snatched her by the collar. Despite her struggles, the huge officer only needed one yank to drop her to the floor. His massive hand on her stomach kept Clara’s body pressed against the hard floor. She was trapped like a turtle flipped over on its shell.
“If you’re going to wild-out, you’re best off just going,” Hefner said, but Clara was too busy with futile attempts to get away from the large guard.
“You should not be offering options. This is not a discussion.” Miller chastised her head of security. “Get Doctor Barnes out here, immediately!”
Hefner removed a walkie-talkie from her belt and spoke into it. “Doctor Barnes, we have a Code Four out here. We need an IM injection and a jacket right away!”
“No! You’re not drugging me!” Clara screamed, managing to pound a closed fist into Officer James’s nose. Her skinny body slithered away from him but Hefner quickly grabbed her arm, allowing Officer James to regain control.
The door near the office swung open and the short Asian man with his white lab coat and thick-framed glasses ran toward them. He clutched a large syringe filled with clear liquid in his left hand. In his right, he carried a straightjacket, its myriad straps dragging like party streamers. He looked very serious as he approached the thrashing girl. Just as the doctor bent over her, Clara caught Rick’s eye. The look of sorrow she threw nearly broke his heart.
Hefner stooped and took hold of Clara’s right arm, stretched it out straight, and knelt on it with her knee. The Doctor stabbed the needle in Clara’s flesh, making contact with a vein despite the girl’s squirming. He pressed the plunger with his thumb.
Her struggles slowed. Suddenly, the whole hallway spun in slow motion. Rick felt as though he were on a carousel on a foggy day. Round and round he went. He squeezed his eyes shut and open several times, but the fog remained. Once again, Clara’s eyes met his. Help, they seemed to cry. But he was as helpless as if the sedative flowed into his own arm.
Clara’s struggles ceased. Hefner tied her into the straightjacket. Officer James lifted her by the loops on the jacket and dragged her into the Seclusion room. Rick opened his mouth to dispute the treatment, but he was sorely outnumbered. Now was not the time to protest.
Hefner closed the door and locked it. Hefner and James took off in the opposite directions. Rick confronted Miss Miller. “I had her all calmed down. She was ready to go back to class.”
“That’s a problem child who thinks she can run this facility!” Miller pointed a finger in Rick’s face as she screamed. “I run this institution, not these children!”
“I understand, but she was calm.”
“On top of everything else, I am required to run a school within these walls and I will not have her disrupting my classes. If a child chooses to be disruptive, we take care of it. Do you understand how that works or must I tell you again how to do your job?”
Miller stood in place, waiting for a response. Rick could just about see steam coming out her ears. Even though she was slightly smaller, his posture brought them eye to eye.
“I understand,” he answered, despite his emotions.
“Good!”
Miller spun on a heel and strode toward the office. On the way, she peeked into the seclusion room through the window. Rick could hear no sound from inside. Apparently, everything met with her approval because she nodded and continued her militant march down the hallway.
Chapter Six
Monday morning, Jake Scarberry stepped into the frat house living room. They’d really been at it this time and trashed the place. Clothes, including underwear, decorated the floor and furniture. A purple T-shirt swung from the slowly revolving ceiling fan. Beer cans and bottles littered every surface. Balled-up bottle wrappers had been made into spitballs and shot at the ceiling. It’d take a week to get them all cleaned off. What had he done to deserve this?
He flung open the broom closet. Might as well get to work. Maybe the noise would wake all the still-sleeping frat-boys. On the floor beside the vacuum was a life-sized blow-up doll. She had blonde hair, a pink cupie doll smile, and a blue polka dot bikini. He reached out to move it, bracing a hand on the vacuum handle. What was that? His fingers came away covered in slime. He sniffed it—petroleum jelly. Jake gave his hands an irritated swipe on a rag hanging from a shelf. That’s when he noticed the note gripped between the doll’s hands—had fun last night, thanks for the blow. Sure, it was humorous, but the vacuum was going to require major cleaning before he could use it.
He snatched the sign and stormed across the room, anger swelling like mumps before he reached the Fraternity President’s door. It was the only bedroom on this floor. He banged on the door. No sound. He pounded again…and again…until an annoyed grunt came from inside.
“Open the door!” Jake shouted in a voice that echoed throughout the frat house.
Several moments later, the knob turned. The door opened a crack.
“Glen, we gotta talk.”
“Yo, man, I was…”
Jake jammed a toe in the crack of the door. “Now!”
Glen opened the door. He wore just boxers, in a colorful psychedelic pattern that hurt Jake’s eyes. Glen raked his fingers through his tousled hair, then brushed a forearm across bloodshot eyes. “Charlie, what’s the matter, dude?” Glen asked around a yawn. “It’s early. We had a huge beer bash last night. It was so awes—”
Jake shoved the sign into Glen’s chest. “Is that when you guys fucked with my cleaning supplies?”
Glen squinted at the paper, realized it was upside down, and flipped it so he could read it. Then he frowned, pushed around Jake, and padded barefoot to the broom closet. “Hmm,” was his only response as he examined the doll and vacuum.
“I have three houses to clean today, but now I have to spend hours cleaning off that goop before I can use the damned thing!”
Glen straightened up and shrugged. “What do you want me to tell you, Charlie? We’re in college. We like to have fun. Can’t you just laugh it off?”
“Look.” Jake wondered why he was rationalizing with a kid more than half his age and hung over. “I laughed it off when you guys plastic-wrapped the toilet seats during Homecoming and I had to clean piss and shit off the floor for a week.”
Glen wasn’t able to suppress a smile.
“I laughed it off when you guys replaced all the glass cleaner with paint. It cost hundreds of dollars to replace the window—out of my paycheck, by the way!” Jake truly hated dealing with these kids. He sucked in a breath and got hold of his emotions. “I even let it go when you used my maintenance cart as a chariot for Greek week and I came in on Monday to find three wheels missing.”
“Yeah, it was a hell of a year.” Glen’s grin widened.
Jake wanted to shake the kid. “Point is…how much crap are you and your buddies going to put me through? I work my ass off for the few lousy dollars your school pays to keep you from living in even more of a pig-sty than this place already is.” Jake waved his arm in a wide arc that encompassed the rest of the house. He realized his voice sounded like pleading and took another breath.
Glen folded his hands, outstretching two fingers, and leaned his chin against them. Did he think he looked presidential? Jake wished he could slap away the attitude. Goddamn rich kids.
“We definitely appreciate what you do here, dude,” Glen said, “but hey, we’re just having fun, and we’re not really hurting no one, right?”
Lightening the mood with levity was a tactic Jake had seen him use whenever his fraternity brothers had conflicts. With kids Glen’s age, the tactic almost always worked. It wouldn’t work on Jake.
“It sounds like your answer to this whole problem is I need to lighten up. Is that what I’m getting h
ere?”
“Well, yeah. Or at least, can you spaz out about it, like, around noon?”
This wasn’t getting anywhere. Jake gave a quick glance around. The rest of the brothers remained in their bedrooms, all doors closed. They were alone.
“Can’t we just see this as ‘boys will be boys’?” Glen offered. He turned back toward his room.
Jake slammed his right shoulder and elbow into the young man, pinning him to the wall.
“Wha…”
Jake was more than six inches taller and much wider, a fact he used to his advantage as he pushed against the Fraternity President’s chest. “Yeah, boys will be boys. But it’s better to be a man. Or at least live to see manhood, you know what I mean?”
Glen’s eyes widened. Jake pressed harder. Glen gasped for air. Jake glared down on him with squinted eyes. It was the same look he gave his victims a lifetime ago—before he squeezed the trigger.
“Make no mistake about it.” He spoke slowly and clearly, but low. “If I have to clean any more shit I shouldn’t have to clean, I’m going to clean it with that pretty boy haircut of yours.” Jake maintained the pressure a few seconds longer, then added, “I assume you understand me, dude?”
Glen gave a quick nod of the head.
“Good.”
Jake stepped away and around the broom closet door, whistling as if nothing had happened. Through the crack near the hinge, he saw Glen, still leaning against the wall looking shell-shocked. Both hands clutched his chest. Jake was unable to suppress a smile. As much as he hated to admit it, he’d enjoyed that.
Chapter Seven
The town of Brookhill was known for its many small one-story houses. One large manor sat on the hill, which the town was named after. It was to this house that Rick had hiked at least two evenings a week since arriving here. He always enjoyed the warm greeting he received.
Dr. Obenchain shook Rick’s hand. “How are you, Rick?” The doctor smoothed his red tie over a gray sweater.
“I’m all right,” Rick answered. “But I do need to talk. I have some things to go over.”
“Then you’ve come to the right place. Let’s go to my office.”
Rick followed Obenchain through the garage that led to his basement office. The office contained an easy chair in front of a couch and an office desk. On the desk sat a photograph framed in gold. The photo depicted the doctor, beside him stood a high-class woman and a young blond-haired boy. Rick picked up the picture. “How’s Arnold?”
“He’s doing very well. He’s making the Dean’s list at his school. Sure, it’s only third grade but I still see it as following in his father’s footsteps.”
Rick smiled, showing his joy for the man who was both his therapist and friend. In fact, Obenchain was perhaps the only friend he had since his life re-started seven years ago. Pride glowed on Harold Obenchain’s face over his son’s accomplishments. As he peered over Rick’s shoulder, his smiled evaporated.
“I’m sure you still miss her,” Rick said.
“Of course. Arnold does, too, even if he is too young to remember her. He was only an infant when she died.”
Obenchain gave what seemed like a bitter glance. As Rick wondered what caused such a reaction, the doctor caught himself and returned to his joyful smile. “Let’s begin.”
Rick set the picture on the corner of the desk and took a seat on the couch. Dr. Obenchain picked up a clipboard and pen from the desk, then sat in the easy chair.
“I often wonder about my life before the accident. Recently, I’ve been doing that a lot more than usual.”
“Why do you think that is?” Obenchain asked, ready to take notes.
“I’m not sure.” Rick sat back, folding his hands together and tipping his head back in thought. “I’ve just been doing a lot of wondering. Who were my friends? Was I married? Was I going to get married? I know the records didn’t show I was married, and I know we haven’t come across anything to suggest it during hypnosis. Still, there’s so much that’s a blank.”
“I’m sure, in time, those memories will return. You were only twenty-six years old when we found you in the debris on the bridge. You had no personal residence. The only family we could find were your parents and sibling. Chances are you weren’t married, Rick.”
“Sometimes I feel like I remember someone.” He felt a frown creasing his brow. “It’s like I can see her out of the corner of my eye, but not directly.”
“We have discussed this in the past. Despite our attempts to find out who she was through your hypnosis sessions, we’ve drawn a blank. She may not be real at all. Then again, she may be a relative or someone you remember seeing somewhere, and the image stuck with you. She could be just a residual memory and not a particularly important one.”
“But how do we know? For that matter, how do we even know any of these memories are real?”
Obenchain tapped his clipboard with the nib of the pen. Rick felt the doctor’s eyes observing him, but didn’t look up to confirm.
“Why would you think otherwise?” the doctor asked.
“I don’t know. The memories are coming back, but I don’t truly remember living them. It’s like I can see them, but I don’t feel them.” He lifted his head from the cushion and looked at the Doctor, feeling embarrassed. “Does that make sense? I’m not sure it does.”
“If that is how you feel, then it makes sense. But let’s go with this. What do you think those memories could be if they’re not your memories?”
“I’m not sure.” Rick turned so he could lie across the couch, placing his head against the armrest. “Fantasies, perhaps? Memories I wish were real?”
“Or perhaps you did live in that big house with the picket fence you remember. But, what do I always tell you?”
“To focus on the moment which I can control as opposed to the past, which I can’t.”
“Exactly.” Obenchain grinned. “So let’s shift to current events. How was your first day on the job?”
“Interesting,” was the only word he could think of to describe his new work environment.
“I figured you would do well there. Katherine Miller is a long-time acquaintance of mine. She lives in Brookhill as well.”
Rick did not answer but Obenchain saw his silence as a direct response. “She’s not leaving you with a favorable impression?” the doctor joshed.
“I was told I’d know I was accepted once Miss Miller started yelling at me. Well, she did, almost immediately. So I guess I’m part of the team.”
“I didn’t know she was a yeller.” Obenchain laughed then realized his reaction had only made Rick uncomfortable. “You have to understand, I see her in a different environment. I see her mostly during community functions and in an official capacity. I serve as a member of the Board of Directors for the facility, you know.”
“I guess maybe she’s a nicer person away from the job,” Rick suggested, although he didn’t believe it for a second.
“She runs a good facility. They help children who need it.”
“But do any of them really get help? Do any of them ever get out?” Rick wanted an answer other than the one Hefner had given him.
“Some do.” Obenchain’s response sounded more like a guess. “Of course, some don’t. Some are there for inadequacies that leave them with difficulty functioning in society. Without the intense treatment they receive, they will forever be a danger to themselves and others.”
“That would be a shame.” Rick sat up. He shook his head.
“It’s not an easy place to work, I know that.” Obenchain placed the clipboard on his desk. “I’m sure you’ll do good work there. In the time I’ve known you, I’ve seen you become a caring individual who will make rational and caring decisions. I am now confident you will see these children’s best interests are met.”
Although he found the wording strange, the compliment brought a smile to Rick’s face. Knowing he was pleasing his mentor gave him a great sense of satisfaction.
Dr. Obenc
hain knew this as well. “Is there anything else, Rick?”
Rick opened his mouth, but then stopped himself. “No,” he finally answered.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Very well, then.”
Both men stood up. “I hate to cut your visit short, Rick, but today is Arnold’s birthday. I promised him a dinner of his choice and a cake. I’m sure that means I’ll have to eat pizza again.”
“Wish your son Happy Birthday for me.” Rick shook the doctor’s hand and began his long hike home.
Chapter Eight
Derrick sat in his kitchen typing on his computer. He thought he typed fast for someone with no training. He reached to the side and clicked the mouse to save his document. He’d just touched his fingers back on the keyboard when a hot draft fluttered across his face and bare legs. There was a flash of color off to his right and he turned his head. Down the hallway, the front door stood wide open. Bright blue sky made his eyes water. A hand touched his shoulder. He spun in the chair. A thin blonde lady, about his age, with pale arms folded across her chest, stood over him. Her violet-colored eyes were slightly slanted, her arms, while not muscular, were decently toned. She wore khaki-color shorts and a white tank top, cut low in front. She didn’t have big breasts but they were up high. The rounded mounds pushed from the top of the shirt.
He wrenched his gaze from her chest. “You don’t believe in knocking?” he asked his sudden guest. This was as much of a greeting as he was willing to offer.
“My father made sure I would never need to knock on a door in order to enter a room,” Jen replied with a sarcastic smirk with which Derrick was all too familiar.
“The Colonel taught us well. Especially you, his namesake.” Derrick referred to the man with fondness. “Hey, remember the time when we were hired to kill that diplomat and you…”
“I’m sure you didn’t make me drive through half a state just to reminisce about the old days.” Jen maintained her stance, arms folded across her chest. “You said it was important. What do you want?”‘
The Rasner Effect Page 6