The Rasner Effect

by Mark Rosendorf

  Clara’s grip tightened, she stretched her arms out straight. The gun remained pointed in the direction of Katherine Miller. Her eyes narrowed.

  “I already know,” Clara sobbed in a low whisper, “she was gonna…”

  Clara’s hands began to shake and Jen’s disappointment grew. For a moment there, she thought she’d see another murder.

  “She was gonna,” Clara repeated, “turn me into one ‘a them kids…”

  “That’s right,” Rick said. “You were going to be another of those poor kids stuck in this hellhole, all drugged up, her walking examples to keep fear in the rest of her patients. The zombies who sit in the back of their classes without any idea they’re even alive.”

  Miller’s eyes darted frantically around. Jen smirked. All this time she’d cowered her employees. Did she think they’d come to her rescue now? Jen wouldn’t be surprised if when Clara failed to kill the bitch, one of the others stepped into her place. Miller shot Jen a pleading look. Jen shrugged.

  “She’s not an uncommon personality, this bitch.” Rick paced around the perimeter of the group. “There are a lot of people out there who make it their life’s goal to make others as miserable as they are. Most of these people never make a damn difference in the world because everyone stays away from them. Usually, they’re left to be miserable on their own.”

  Rick completed his circle around Clara, stopping behind her.

  “Unfortunately, this one gained a position where she does have—excuse me, did have—the power. She does it to kids like you, Clara, kids who can’t leave because she holds the keys to the goddamn cell.”

  Rick placed his arm across Clara’s shoulders and shot a confident look in Miller’s direction.

  “Clara, you don’t have to be a part of this,” Miller yelled, stretching her neck out to look up at the girl. “Think about this, young lady.”

  “She planned to keep you around like a trophy until you were eighteen. You know she was going to make you spend the rest of your life in an adult nuthouse. After that, she’ll pick another kid just like you and inflict the same sort of torture. It’ll go on long after you’re gone. She’ll remember you just as a footnote, another of the lost causes. The reason they ‘need’ her in this place.”

  Rick stepped away from Clara leaving the ball in the girl’s court.

  Clara stared fiercely at Miller. Her breathing had turned erratic. She wasn’t going to do it. Couldn’t do it. Killing took a special sort of person, and she wasn’t it. Jen could tell that the moment she came in the room.

  Rick reached over her shoulder and lowered her hands to make sure the gun was aimed perfectly at Miller’s head. “I know you, Clara. I know what you are capable of. You told me so yourself.”

  “Clara, don’t be stupid,” Miller warned. “Make the right…”

  “I’m not stupid,” Clara growled. “Don’t call me stupid.”

  “Clara, you don’t want to do this. She’s not worth it,” Janet finally spoke up. “I know you’re not happy here, but if you shoot her, you will only end up somewhere worse. She’s certainly not worth that.”

  “Yes, think of the consequences of your actions,” Miller barked.

  Rick chuckled. “Yes, they’ll make you the scapegoat over this situation, if you remain here. But you’re not staying here with them. You’re coming home with us.”

  “I am?” Clara turned and looked up at Rick. From that angle, Jen could see tears in her eyes.

  “She is?” Derrick blurted. Jen shot out her left elbow and jabbed him in the ribs.

  “You are,” Rick said.

  “I can leave this place? Today?” Clara sobbed.

  “I would like to take you, Clara, but we know Katherine Miller wouldn’t ever allow that. Not as long as she’s still alive, she wouldn’t.”

  “It’s not like I could stop you from taking her,” Miller said. “You don’t have to kill me to take her.”

  “Remember all the hell she put you through. Remember the torture, the humiliation. Don’t question your instincts, Clara. Squeeze that trigger! Do what you’ve wanted to do for the last few years of your life!”

  “I-I…” Clara’s hands shook, her eyes remained wide.

  “Use your head,” Miller added. “What would your grandmother say to this, Clara? Would she approve of these actions? Would she approve of these people?”

  “N-no, she wouldn’t.” Clara lowered the gun.

  “Her grandmother,” Rick roared.

  He suddenly looked at Miller with raised eyebrows. Jen saw in Rick’s face that Miller’s comment meant something to him. Something he could use in this battle of wills over the kid.

  “That was the wrong card to play, Katherine.” There was venom in Rick’s voice as he spoke her first name. “I read the personal files on all these kids here and I remember all the important tidbits you wrote in them. I know what you refuse to tell these kids, all your little red notes.”

  “Clara, put the gun down now!” Miller shouted.

  Clara turned to Rick. Her bottom jaw was quivering. “What do you…what are you talking about?”

  “Your grandmother, I’m sorry to tell you, died over a year ago. It was Miller’s decision this information be withheld from you.”

  Clara’s eyes widened. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.

  “It’s true, Clara. That’s why you haven’t heard from her. This bitch decided you didn’t need to know.”

  Clara’s shaking hands raised the gun back up. She shook her head while mouthing the word “No.”

  “Clara, don’t listen to him, listen to me,” Miller demanded. “You’re a child so I know you won’t understand my decision in this matter. You must remember…you are in an institution that is responsible for your therapeutic development.”

  As she spoke, Rick whispered in Clara’s ear, “You couldn’t attend your own grandmother’s funeral.”

  “Outside stresses must be withheld so as not to interfere with your progress. And you’ve really been doing well, Clara, I am very proud of you.”

  “She wouldn’t even let you know the woman died. You know I’m telling you the truth and I know how it must make you feel. I know how I would feel right now if I were you.”

  “Clara, please don’t do this.” Janet screamed. “For god sake, don’t let him make you do this.”

  Jorge stepped in front of Janet and threatened her with the rifle.

  “Clara!” Miller screamed.

  Jen was tired of waiting. “Is she going to do this or what? Rick, just shoot her yourself, already.”

  “She’ll do it,” Rick snapped.

  “Clara, don’t,” Janet pleaded.

  “Clara, listen to me...” Miller said.

  Even Hefner was shaking her head at Clara, trying to offer her silent advice.

  Clara began hyperventilating. She squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them. “Everybody just—shut—up,” she sobbed.

  Her hands tightened again around the gun. Jen nearly cheered. She was really going to do it, finally. Clara’s finger pressed against the trigger, pulling it back ever so slightly.

  “With everything you done,” Clara growled toward Miller, “How could you keep that from me?”

  “Clara, put down the gun and listen…”

  “This is your chance, Clara, to put an end to your torturer,” Rick said. “You want to do this. You owe her this. Pull the trigger now.”

  Rick slapped Clara’s back. Her entire body jerked in a spastic motion. Every muscle tensed…

  …the gun fired.

  The bullet entered Miller’s forehead, directly above her left eye. A splatter of blood shot in the air. Some squirted out the back of her head as well. Her body crashed face down on the floor. Blood poured down the side of her face and pooled on the cement floor.

  Clara sucked in a horrified breath and dropped the gun. Janet gasped and fell to her knees, putting her hands together in order to pray. Behind her, Hefner and Barnes remained frozen in place. The
only sound in the room was the loud moaning coming from Katherine Miller.

  Rick walked around Clara, slowly clapping his hands. Jen wanted to clap too—eureka, finally! Rick looked at Jen and she gave him a proud smirk. Derrick checked his watch.

  Rick turned to his young charge. “Don’t be upset. You have no guilt in your actions today.” He squatted and picked up the gun. “You just executed your torturer. You have just ended your own suffering—and that of others as well. You did the absolute right thing.”

  Rick pointed the gun and squeezed the trigger, firing a second bullet into the back of Miller’s head.

  The moaning stopped.

  Jen watched as Rick straddled Miller’s outstretched legs and stared intently down at her. He was truly proud of himself, she could tell. He looked at Clara, the expression of a proud parent. No, not a parent because she couldn’t picture Rick as a father. More like a teacher who’d just seen his student master the most difficult trigonometry problem. Clara’s eyes were wide. Tears flowed as freely as Miller’s blood.

  “Hey, Ricky,” Derrick said. “If you’re done, can we maybe speed things up and get the hell out of here?”

  “He’s right,” Jen agreed, leaping off the desk and striding across the room. She placed her gun in the belt holster and palmed her hands on Rick’s chest. She looked up into his eyes with confidence and determination, glad the old Rick was back. God, she’d missed him. It had been tough getting used to not seeing his face.

  “We need to go. Now.”

  Rick continued staring at Miller’s dead body. The hatred refused to leave his face. This freaked Jen out. Killing someone always satisfied him, at least back then, no matter how much he despised the victim.

  “Fine,” Rick said finally, “let’s get the hell out of this place.”

  Rick turned. Janet looked up from her praying—damnation and pain in her eyes. These two, Jen thought, had been friends. He wouldn’t have slept with her, though, he never could abide the big ones. Rick smiled at Janet. “I guess we know for sure, now don’t we?”

  He stared down toward the Bible that had tipped onto the floor. It was open to Hebrews 12:1. “Since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders…and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.”

  Jen let out a large smirk. Janet grabbed the book and clutched it to her chest.

  “We’re done here, let’s go!” Jen shouted. She stepped away from Rick and skipped to the door, waving her people to join her. Before drawing open the door, she listened for sirens. Nothing. She stepped into the hall, empty except for several kids, who’d obviously escaped from one of the classrooms. They leaped and hopped like gazelles around the body of the dead guard. She waited for Derrick and the others to follow.

  “All right, everyone,” Derrick announced to the three captives. “Thank you for your patience; you may now return to your business. Have a pleasant afternoon.”

  He stepped into the corridor, Jorge right on his heels, as though he couldn’t escape that place fast enough. He nodded to Rick while slipping the rifle in a holster strapped to his back.

  Already there was activity in the therapy suite. Doctor Barnes and Janet were making their way to Miller. Jen held the door open. Rick moved past Clara and ducked under Jen’s arm.

  “Are you coming?” he called out.

  Clara turned and, with slumped shoulders and trepidation on her face, followed. Jen couldn’t believe Rick was actually serious. He really wanted to take this kid with them? She wasn’t even sure if the girl could walk, her hands shook like a person with Parkinson’s. Her eyes spread wide as serving platters. Clara stopped in her tracks and looked back at Miller. She then glanced at Hefner who issued the glower of the century. Clara swiped the back of a hand across her face, as though erasing the past hour and walked to the door as well.

  As soon as Clara approached the door, Rick pushed it shut. She stared at him and brought her trembling arms up in a defensive stance. What did she think he was up to? Jen knew the girl had a million questions and hoped she’d hold them in until later, until all their emotions calmed down. As a matter of fact, Jen had a few of her own.

  “I promised you a taste of power, didn’t I?” Rick asked.

  A raspy sound came from her throat. She was confused and unsure, but in the light of day, Jen began to see what Rick saw in the girl—bravery, sensibility with a healthy dose of desperation. It was a desperation that made her want out of this place. The same desperation Jen had felt all those years ago. An emotion that made you do anything to escape. Still though, it was just an annoying kid. And a poor ghetto kid at that. Jen knew the type when she saw it.

  The second guard, the fat woman, remained against the wall in the back of the therapy suite. Rick hefted the gun and pointed it at her. Jen tilted her head. What was he up to now?

  “Oh God, please don’t shoot me!” Hefner pleaded.

  “Rick, don’t,” Janet screamed, clutching at her chest. “Please, just go.”

  “Sharon Hefner,” Rick said to Clara. “Does she deserve to live or does she deserve to die? Her fate is up to you.”

  “B-but I have a family, I can’t…you can’t… Mister Ras…Mister…Clara, please!”

  Clara’s eyes focused on Hefner. They filled with fear, then rage, and, after several tense moments, softened. “Live,” she muttered, just barely over a whisper.

  “Fine. Live,” he responded. Jen could tell he was disappointed, but oh well, at least they were on their way. “Go catch up with the others,” he told her. “Tell them we’re coming.”

  Jen opened the door, but she waited to walk through. It had taken seven years to be reunited with him, and she wasn’t leaving him alone for a minute.

  Rick relaxed his forearm, pointing the gun in the air. Hefner’s body slid down the wall with a hand pressed to her nonexistent breasts.

  “The girl saved your life, I hope you realize that. If we ever see each other again, I’m sure you won’t be so lucky.”

  Hefner only stared at Rick. Jen waited for her to thank him. When none came, she expected him to fire on her anyway. But he didn’t. He’d finished his reign of terror—for now.

  Chapter Thirty

  The large white van sped away from the Brookhill Children’s Psychiatric Residence at approximately ninety miles an hour. With Derrick driving and Jorge in the passenger’s seat, Rick paced back and forth in the back of the van, using the walls as support on the bumpy and winding road. On every lap, he stepped over the outstretched legs of Jen, Sanaga and Arnold—still trussed like a holiday turkey and leaning against the back wall. Sanaga set down the knife he held on Arnold, got up on his knees, and shook hands with Rick.

  “It’s good to see you again,” Rick said. “It’s good to see all of you again.”

  Rick paced again, rubbing the knobby scar on his forehead. Jen, finally having enough, stood up and stepped in his way. “Relax. The nightmare is over and you are back where you belong.”

  Rick’s anger didn’t abate, not even when she threw her arms around his neck and placed her lips on his. The kiss was long overdue. Not a hundred percent sure why, he didn’t kiss her back. After a moment, Jen pulled her head away from his.

  She slapped her hands down on his shoulders and gave him a puzzled look. The van lurched around a corner. Rick instinctively grabbed hold of her, getting one of her breasts. The unplanned move only seemed to annoy Jen.

  “I expected you’d show a little more elation,” she said. “It has been seven years, after all.”

  He let out a huge sigh that embodied all the emotion of the entire morning. He hadn’t meant to hurt her. “I’m sorry, it’s just…I remember who I am. I can recall almost everything about me. I can even remember all of you…” He chuckled. “Somewhat. But the details…I just remember bits and pieces…”

  “Maybe that chip is still active?”

  “No, it’s shorted out. It couldn’t have survived the voltage we shot
it up with,” Derrick called back to them. “It’s all that other brainwashing shit Obenchain was talking about last night. It’s gotta still be screwing with your head.”

  “He’s right,” Jen said, “It’ll just take time for things to sort themselves out.”

  “It’s weird. It’s like all this time I was someone else. I knew it didn’t feel right, like nothing was ever real.”

  “It wasn’t real.” Jen placed the palm of her right hand against his cheek. “They were screwing with your mind all this time.”

  “Not that I’m complaining,” Rick added, “but how did you find me?”

  “That was my genius,” Derrick boasted while examining the rearview mirror, making sure no one was following. “Plenty of research and plenty of my intuition, that’s what found you. You can thank me anytime.”

  “What took so goddamn long? It’s been seven years!”

  “Hey, give me a break, we thought you were dead,” Derrick shouted back.

  “There was certainly enough proof confirming that,” Jen added. “We searched for a long time before accepting it.” She sighed. “What matters is that you’re back now.

  “Right.” Rick used his left thumb to probe his scar. Then he stopped and jammed his hand in his pocket, shoving his fist almost through the fabric—a habit he’d tried to break. This made him angry all over again. A build-up of pressure started in his mid-section and fanned out all the way to his fingers. He clenched his hands and feet tight, willing the fury to remain inside.

  He dropped to one knee and took deep breaths, a method of calming himself that Obenchain taught him early on. It didn’t work then and it wasn’t working now. The lightheadedness returned. This dizziness was different from what he now knew the chip in his head had caused in the past. Jen stepped up behind him and knelt, placing her right hand against the back of his neck and kneading the muscles there.

  “You’re so tight.”

  “They played me for a fucking fool.” He pressed the palm of his hand against his forehead, trying to relieve the pain that grew like a dandelion weed.

  “I can barely remember…we were on that bridge…but I wasn’t in a car.” Perhaps if he said the words he’d been holding inside for so long, the pressure inside his head would help the pain go away.