The Savior Rises
Page 13
Stefani had to think fast. She couldn’t stay tied up in bed all day. She had to figure out what was happening, and the only way to do that was to swallow some pills. She was so confused, she had no idea what was going on or how to react to this. What do you do when you wake up one day in an asylum?
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I seem to be a little disoriented this morning. Drop them in my mouth, and I’ll swallow them. No worries, I promise.”
“Ok, but if you try and bite me again, like you did yesterday, you’ll stay in here tied up for the entire week. Do you understand me?” Staci asked.
“Sure.”
Stefani opened her mouth, and Staci dropped in a couple little pink pills and one blue one. She thought about not swallowing, but Staci held her mouth closed, and Lori did something to her throat until everything went down. Whatever they’d given her was in her system now.
“Now, that was a good girl. We’ll come back in 30 minutes or so and see how you feel. K?”
With the statement trailing off, Staci and Lori both walked out the door and headed down the hall to their next victim.
What was that? Stefani thought. She felt like every morning she woke up in the Twilight Zone, in some new world or foreign land. Nothing was ever the same twice. Was she supposed to pretend she was crazy, locked up in a Cracker Jack Box? She wasn’t crazy. She knew full well what was happening.
As she lay there contemplating her latest dilemma, the room started spinning. Her entire body felt limp, almost numb. Finally, Staci came back through the door with a wheelchair. But, by then, Stefani would’ve sworn she’d already wet the bed. She just didn’t seem to have any feeling anymore. She almost didn’t even care what happened.
Staci lifted her into the chair after releasing her arms and legs. She had to practically roll Stefani off the bed before linking her arms under Stefani’s shoulders and propping her in the wheelchair. Thankfully, Staci threw a robe over Stefani’s naked body before they left the room.
WOW, there are a lot of people in here, Stefani thought to herself as they made their way to the main room. Most of the people were women, but there were a few men, as well. It looked like there were guards stationed at every door. Staci wheeled her up to the TV, and, sure enough, The Price is Right was in full swing.
Jesus, she thought to herself, The Price is Right. She wondered whatever happened to Bob Barker and how old he must now be. The man hosted the show for a billion years it seemed. Still, why did Staci think she had any interest in The Price is Right? Come to mention it, why was she sitting in a wheel chair with drool flowing down her chin in a house for the loco vegetables? What were these people trying to do to her?
“Hey, what are you in for?” the lady next to her tapped her on her shoulder as she asked. “They got me for pissing in public. Said I was a nuisance, so they locked me up. I still think it was because I saw those two policemen flying. They really could fly you know – wings and all.”
Stefani sat there and wondered if maybe she was crazy. Gargoyles, wings, people getting their heads chopped off, sword fights, car chases? None of it added up. She was a stripper who had a waitressing job. Did she think she’d somehow turned into a super hero? What did it matter anyway, she had probably lost both jobs by now. She hadn’t checked in for work in days.
She wondered if anyone even missed her. She’d never really been nice to anyone at either job. She had no friends. Her roommates seemed to all be nurses in her psychiatric ward. What chance did she have of convincing anyone she was anything other than a mixed bag of nuts?
“I’m here for killing a few gargoyles and Roguls. Roguls are gargoyles’ human slaves. They pledge their support in the hopes of being a gargoyle themselves someday. But, most of the time, they just turn into these Hell hounds with really bad breath. We killed a couple of them. These dogs are as big as a pure-bred racing horse. They smell, as well, almost as bad as you do, you freak of nature.”
“You really might want to try being a little more polite,” said the guy sitting next to her. “I have been here for nine years now, and trust me, all we have is each other. They’re after you, though, for something special, aren’t they? Don’t give in, keep fighting. You’re the key, you know. You’re the prophecy that’s been passed down for centuries, I can feel it. You are…”
Whack.
“I’m pretty sure I told you to shut up, Ralph. If I hear you speak another word, I’ll personally cut out your tongue and shove it up your nostril. Do you understand me?”
The burly guard screamed at Ralph, who was now completely silent. His head was bowed, and his entire body became submissive.
“You didn’t have to hit me so hard,” Ralph whispered as he flinched and ducked his head again. By his reactions, he seemed accustomed to a lot of abuse. Stefani wondered if the guards hit everyone there.
She diverted her attention from the confrontation with her new best friend and shifted her gaze to the surroundings that encompassed the recreation area. She looked at the cracked, monochromatic walls, and her eye caught site of the same two posters that had been in her bedroom. The pair hung together every few feet. There must’ve been 30 of them, pair after pair, one right after the other.
As she looked at the posters of Bath and Ladispoli, she cried. Was she really losing her mind? How was it possible? Did a person know when they were crazy, or did every wacky loon think they were sane? Both of her hands were shaking, and she couldn’t keep her left eye from twitching spasmodically.
The orderly pulled Stefani’s wheelchair back and said, “Let’s take you to breakfast, Miss Hernandez. You must be starving, and they have your pancakes.”
Why did people keep calling them her pancakes? Her lips were so numb; she didn’t know if she could even eat any pancakes. As the orderly rolled her to the breakfast table, an older lady sitting all alone held up a sign as she passed by.
They are after you.
That was all it said.
What was that supposed to mean? How did all of these sick people know who she was and what was happening in her life? It didn’t make any sense.
They pushed her up to the table and set a plate of silver dollar pancakes in front of her. Her place setting also had one container of syrup and a plastic fork. She thought it was logical to be given a plastic fork – she just couldn’t figure out how to cut her pancakes with it. Her hands still felt numb, and her coordination was completely lost. Eating wouldn’t be the easiest thing for her to do. Maybe they would try starving her by robbing her of all her physical maneuverability.
There was a young lady, probably 15 or 16, sitting at the table next to her. Within seconds of taking her first bite, the girl leaned over and said,
“You have to figure out a way to run. They won’t rest until they consume you. You’re the key.”
“HOLY SHIT, PEOPLE. WILL YOU LEAVE ME ALONE!” she screamed, while picking up her plate and launching it against the far wall. Her four pancakes flew in different directions, and the syrup sprayed the old guy sitting across from her. He smiled an almost toothless grin. He had only three remaining, two on top and one on the bottom in the front. All three were solid black.
Stefani cried again. She couldn’t control herself anymore. Why was she here? Can people really do this to somebody with nobody noticing? Didn’t she have any rights?
“WHO ARE YOU PEOPLE!” she screamed at nobody in particular.
“Stefani, what’s with the tears?” Staci said as she grabbed her chair and wheeled her backward. She pushed Stefani toward another door as she continued talking. “Dr. Bob is waiting to see you. Do you remember Dr. Bob? You seemed to like him the last time you two chatted. He really does think highly of you.”
Staci rolled her into a small room that held only a desk and a small plastic chair on rollers. Dr. Bob stared at her from across the desolate surface until Staci closed the door firmly behind her. Apparently she was on her way to harass other patients, leaving Stefani alone with this freaky little man.
> He looked familiar to Stefani, but she just couldn’t…wait a minute, this was the doctor from the hospital. He was the doctor who took her blood samples. The same doctor who she’d cut off when Dennis arrived. That was the night she met Matt. But both Matt and Dennis were now dead. Everyone seemed to die around her except Dr. Bob. He was alive and ticking.
“How are you feeling today, Stefani?” he asked in a freaky cracking voice. He wheeled his chair closer to her, the legs screeching in protest. He placed his hand inside her robe, and suddenly Stefani was again fully aware she had no clothes on.
“Do you like that, Stefani?” Dr. Bob asked. “Does that feel nice? You know, if you’re nice to me, I can be nice to you, as well. We can make a deal, you and me. Your stay here could be….ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”
Stefani felt well enough to grab Dr. Bob’s right finger and break it clean off his hand. He sat there for a second grabbing at his missing appendage, screaming almost silently, until Stefani picked up the clipboard and smacked him across the head. When he fell off his stool, she heard a loud pop as Dr. Bob’s head hit the tile floor.
“You’d better think twice before ever touching my breasts again, you perverted freak. I don’t care how much medication I’m on, I will rip out your heart.”
She stood as she continued her speech. Her legs were wobbly, but strong enough to keep her upright as she began repeatedly kicking Dr. Bob in the stomach and crotch.
She pulled off his white coat, grabbed his glasses, badge, and car keys and walked out the door. After taking a couple of wrong turns she found herself in the parking lot and hit the alarm button on the key pad. The car screeched its sounds of warning, drawing her over like a beacon. Damn, a BMW. She’d always wanted to drive a BMW.
The medicine had been short lived. She didn’t have much trouble walking and quickly started to feel like her old self again. She still couldn’t figure out who her old self really was, though.
Her plan was simple. She had to figure out where she was, head home, pack, and get lost for a very long time. Whoever these freaks were, their games were getting sicker.
Greg sat in the observation room smiling. This damn girl just kept going, didn’t she?
“Get Staci back to the apartment, now,” he said into the intercom. Just in case Stefani headed back there, it might help to keep her confused as long as possible. She had no idea what was happening to her, the poor girl.
Stefani walked through the front door of what she thought was her home, and there was Staci, sitting on the couch watching TV.
“Hey, Stefani!” Staci yelled, as Stefani walked by. Stefani didn’t even acknowledge her. She walked into her room and slammed the door. She grabbed her suitcase from the upper shelf of her closet and threw in some clothes. God only knew what was happening, but she didn’t care. It seemed like she was just packing a few days ago. She didn’t even remember what happened to her bag from the trip to Europe.
She grabbed her makeup and walked over to the Raggedy Ann doll, ripping its head off as she threw the body to the floor. She was done with sentimentality. Did these people really think they could break her? She’d die first. She might even prefer death at this stage.
She looked around her room for what she knew would be the last time, grabbed her wallet, and walked down the hall.
“Is everything ok?” Staci asked from the kitchen doorway. “You seem a little stressed, sweetie?”
Stefani looked at Staci. Her roommate wore her tight little jeans and her preppy tank top, but Staci’s shoes caught her eye. Staci had on crocs. The kind of shoes nurses wear. The little conniving, manipulative…
Stefani walked up to her, balled up her fist, and punched her in the face. Staci fell backwards. Two teeth fell to the ground by her feet as her arms flew back to break her landing. She wailed before she ever even hit the ground.
“If you ever talk to me again, I’ll rip out your heart and feed it to the closest dog I can find. Do we understand each other?”
With that, Stefani turned around, headed out the door, and walked down the stairs. She had left the BMW double parked outside, directly in front of the apartment. She jumped in the driver’s seat, tossing her bag in the back as she hopped in. After a quick trip to the ATM to drain her account, she’d be off to Mexico. She was sure getting lost in Mexico couldn’t be that difficult.
Three days remained until her birthday. If she were lucky, she could stay hidden for that long, and hopefully all of this would go away. She was exhausted, she wasn’t getting any sleep, and she just wanted it to all to end.
Greg smiled from the sidewalk. He’d chosen well this time. He only hoped he hadn’t chosen too well. Stefani was proving difficult, which was good. The final stage was still under preparation.
Mexico would be a fine setting. It was as good a place as any. If that didn’t work, then he still had one final arrow left in his quiver. If nothing else, this was proving to be a good time.
Margaritas, Anyone?
Stefani had no trouble staying awake. The drive to Mexico was more refreshing than anything had been in the last few days. It was long, but every minute was exhilarating. She pulled off the 805 and headed down the first street she saw. She made a couple of turns and spotted the nightlife. She was a stripper by trade. Finding a good bar to hang out in should come naturally.
The government-issued travel warning for Tijuana meant very little to Stefani. During the last few days, she’d seen more things killed than most people see in a lifetime. At some point, she did think it might be prudent for her to wear a warning sign. “Guys, beware. Hanging out with me could possibly find you dead, very quickly.”
It was well past nightfall when she arrived, and her main goal was to grab some tequila and get roaring drunk. Maybe alcoholics did have the right answer. Maybe drowning your sorrow in a bottle and forgetting your troubles was a viable solution. She’d never been much of a drinker, but she was all about finding out what the draw was.
She sauntered into the first bar she found located off the main drag, grabbed a stool, and realized it was a strip club. Not on the level of The Gold Club where she spent most of her nights before this nightmare began, but a seedy, lowlife strip club where most of the guys needed a bath, and the women were all probably carrying some surprises a decent man wouldn’t want to bring home to the wife.
“Give me a shot of Patrón, please,” she said to the bartender as she slapped a $100 bill on the countertop. The light-brown skinned, mid-sized Mexican guy stared at her for a minute, then grabbed a bottle and a shot glass and set them down in front of her. He palmed the money in his right hand as he mouthed, “Thanks.” She noticed the ends of his brown flannel shirt were black from the grime permanently caked on the bar’s surface.
“Thanks, buddy,” she said as she filled up the shot glass and threw her head back, chugging her first real Mexican beverage. Damn, that really burns, she thought as the liquid slowly eased its way down her throat to her waiting stomach. She shot one more and looked at her surroundings.
Her eyes acclimated to the darkened interior, and other than the strippers, she was the only female in the establishment. There were some American boys, kids really, in one corner, and the rest of the place was filled with overweight, middle-aged locals. Most of them stared at her in a way that quickly made her feel more than a little uncomfortable.
Maybe coming to a bar off the main drag wasn’t as smart of a decision as she’d thought. She decided not to pay anyone any attention, turned around, and focused on the bartender. He was a little guy and seemed harmless enough. As she threw down another shot, one of her admirers made the first attempt at getting to know her.
She rejected him easily enough, but other would-be suitors quickly followed. She felt that everyone in the bar was taking a shot. Judging from the talent on the stage, she had no problem understanding why. She didn’t consider it vain to assess she was the best looking woman who would enter the bar that evening or any other evening, for that matter.
“You’re not a nice person, miss,” he responded. “You might be better served finding out who you’re speaking to before you talk to me in this manner.”
With that he jammed his balled-up fist into her side, grabbed her by her hair, and slammed her head down, smashing it into the bar. Everything blacked out after that.
Stefani woke up wondering why her head was pounding. The pain was physically debilitating. The throbbing echoed off the walls as she found herself tied to a chair with her hands behind her back. Her shirt was torn and one of her breasts hung out, exposed for all her Mexican friends to see.
“Ahhh, our little gringa wakes up, then. How do you feel, beautiful lady? Are you ready for your surprise?”
The man talking was the same guy she’d rejected right before she blacked out. She could still hear the music blaring in the background. It was the same music at the strip club, so she guessed she was in a back room somewhere. As she looked around, she counted five men. They had this perverted, almost animalistic, hunger in their eyes.
“You will have to trust me when I tell you, that you really don’t want to do this. If you were concerned about me not knowing who you were, trust me when I tell you that you have no idea who I am. You’re about to venture down a road you’ll find ends very painfully.”
She broke off her words as a lightly brown-skinned man with a thick, black mustache started laughing.
He pulled back his hand and smacked her across the face, causing the already gut-busting pain in her head to increase two-fold. Stefani was growing tired of the game, so she pulled with all her strength on the rope securing her hands, expecting it to bust apart and free her. Nothing happened.