‘Sounds like a fever,’ Adrian said.
‘Fevers don’t talk, lad,’ Tom replied. ‘Fevers don’t tell you things about the people you share this place with, and what torments them.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘It told me a little about you today. Told me what wracks you with guilt. How the life that you took eats you up inside.’
Adrian was stunned. How could Tom possibly know about his past?
‘My father? Yes, I regret what I did, but—’
‘Not him, lad. That isn’t what I’m talking about. That isn’t what tortures you, is it?’
Adrian said nothing in response. He couldn’t explain how Tom knew that and, furthermore, he had no desire to continue the conversation. He rose to his feet.
‘I think you should sleep,’ he said, then walked back towards the door.
‘Only more dreams waiting for me there, lad,’ Tom said.
‘Bye, Tom,’ Adrian said. He was about to leave the old man alone when Tom stopped him.
‘It’s coming for you, Adrian,’ he said. ‘It knows you, inside and out, and wants you as well. If you have the strength, maybe do something about it before it’s too late. Lord knows I wish I was strong enough to do what I need to, but to be honest I just don’t have the guts for it.’
Adrian didn’t need to ask for clarification; he knew exactly what Tom was talking about.
Adrian said no more and left Tom alone. He walked to his room next door and dropped down onto his bed. His stomach ached for food, but he had no desire to face anyone else today. He felt drained and utterly confused.
Adrian lay back and rolled on to his side, trying to quiet the frantic, confused voices in his mind.
But they would not be silenced.
Was the thing Tom spoke about now talking to him as well?
18
Director Isaac Templeton sat in the Chapel, enjoying the quiet. It afforded him the chance to think things through in an orderly manner. He was pleased with how things had progressed with Adrian James—an excellent candidate who was starting to show a reaction to the treatment already, indulging in violent tendencies even after only a single dose.
By chance, the man had witnessed more than he should have, but that would not be a problem. The situation concerned Brother Jones, however, as he thought Adrian James’ story would create tension and agitation within the ranks of the afflicted, especially in Ward B. But Templeton was confident that another crazy tale floating about between the patients would not create any complications. Still, better to deal with the issue, just in case.
Ending the life of Adrian James was not an option, of course, not after the treatment had already started. It was a waste, and besides, Mr. James was marked now, and promised to… it. Templeton dared not take away that which was owed.
Dealing with the thing in the basement was a privilege, he knew that, but one that had to be handled carefully. Everyone answered to someone, and his superior in the Church—one Kane Ainsworth—was growing concerned at the speed with which things were moving. Because of that, Templeton had to check in with the man by telephone each and every day. Failure to do so would mean a visit from a clean-up crew, who would put an end to what they were doing at this asylum. For the greater good, of course. It was an annoyance, to be sure, as Mr. Ainsworth was far too cautious, but it was one that Templeton had to bear. And he did not doubt that if, and when, things stepped up, his check-ins would need to be more frequent.
The other issue that played on his mind was that of their new physician: Dr. Reid.
After speaking with Adrian James earlier, Templeton had returned to his office and immediately felt that something was off.
It did not take him long to discover that the position of his chair was ever-so-slightly different than he always left it—rotated to the left by a fraction.
Someone had been in the office in his absence, just as he had expected they might.
Templeton had then moved his chair and pulled back the rug beneath, retrieving the key and opening his desk drawers. He then checked to make sure everything was in place.
It wasn’t.
His diary was gone.
And he knew who was responsible—the good doctor had taken the bait.
Hopefully, it would be enough to push Dr. Reid to follow the trail Templeton left for him. If the man came to discover the truth at his own pace, rather than having it forced upon him, he might come to accept it more easily.
And what had happened poor Dr. Vine could be avoided.
Templeton felt that Dr. Vine had found out too much, too quickly, and his scientific mind could not accept what was in front of him.
It was just too unbelievable.
And so, measures had been taken to protect the facility.
Now Dr. Vine existed in the basement below the asylum, in the dark, surrounded by horrors.
Templeton just hoped Dr. Reid would be different. Having him join them, as a true believer, would be a valuable thing.
However, if that proved not to be possible, Reid would have to be dealt with as well.
And now was the time to take another step. Dr. Reid would again see the medicine in action, only this time he would witness its full effects.
Templeton stood up. He used to make the sign of the cross over his body when leaving a place of worship.
No longer.
In truth, he now just liked the familiarity the Chapel offered him. Places like this always instilled in him a sense of wonder, where he worshipped a being much greater than he.
It still fulfilled the same purpose, only he no longer worshipped a false god. The cause he now devoted himself to was very real.
19
The hour was growing late, and Reid was in his office, engrossed in Director Templeton’s diary.
He had learned a little more about the mysterious Church, and Templeton’s devotion to it. It was not an organisation Reid had heard of before, but it would seem that they somehow had a great deal of reach and resources. And it was also apparent that this facility was only one of many operations the Church had in place, all of which seemed to study what they called the other place.
Movement from beyond his door caught his attention, and Reid looked up to see the director outside, raising his hand to knock on the glass.
In a panic, Reid dropped the diary and buried it beneath some loose papers that cluttered his desk.
Reid waved Templeton in, trying not to appear as flustered as he felt.
Templeton was smiling as he entered and wore an expression that simply said caught you. Reid felt a tightening in his chest and knew precisely what the director was here for—he’d realised the diary was missing, and Reid was his suspect.
Caught red-handed.
‘I hope I haven’t disturbed you?’ Templeton asked.
‘Not at all,’ Reid replied, exerting every ounce of composure he could summon. ‘How can I help you?’
‘I need to ask you something,’ Templeton went on. He then took the small chair that rested against the far wall and placed it opposite Reid. He sat down, uninvited.
‘Go ahead,’ Reid said.
Here it comes.
‘I want you to accompany me later, if you would be so kind?’
That was not what Reid was expecting.
‘Accompany you where?’ he asked.
‘We are administering more of the medicine to a patient tonight in Ward B. One that has been receiving the treatment for a while.’
‘Of course,’ Reid said. ‘I’d be happy to.’
‘Excellent,’ Templeton said, clapping his hands together. ‘I know the medicine we are testing here is something that interests you, and I think it only fair that you get to see the full effects.’
Again, Reid was taken aback, as Templeton had previously withheld all information about the medicine.
‘I’d like that very much,’ Reid said. ‘But can I ask, what has changed?’
‘What do you mean?’
&
nbsp; ‘When I asked you about it did previously, you always avoided giving me an answer.’
‘True,’ Templeton said, ‘but you’ve seen it administered to Adrian James, and also you were present when he came around.’
‘That didn’t exactly give me a lot of answers, though.’
‘No, but it gave you information. A taste. Tonight, I think you will learn a lot more.’
Reid nodded. ‘Okay. When should I be ready?’
Templeton shrugged. ‘No time like the present. Are you busy now?’
‘I guess not,’ Reid said, hoping Templeton had not seen him hide the diary and, more importantly, could not see it now. Reid had hastily thrown papers and a file over it, but couldn’t be sure it was completely hidden to Templeton from his vantage point.
‘Excellent. Then let us make haste. We will be going to see a patient named Tom Cunningham. He has been taking the medicine for a while now, but I think tonight's dosage will be his last.’
‘Will he be cured of his ailments, then?’ Reid asked.
Templeton smiled. ‘Oh yes. After tonight, I guarantee he will be a different person completely.’
The older man rose to his feet, his knees popping as he did.
‘That sounded painful,’ Reid said, but Templeton just shook his head.
‘Just a symptom of my age,’ he said. ‘Creaking old bones. If one lives long enough, it is unavoidable, I’m afraid. Something you have to look forward to.’
Templeton then opened the door and turned back to Reid. ‘Let’s go. You can finish my diary when we are done.’
With that, he disappeared from view, leaving Reid standing alone, open-mouthed.
So Templeton had known he had taken the diary, and perhaps even seen him reading it.
And what’s more, he didn’t seem to care.
‘Whenever you’re ready,’ Templeton called back from down the corridor. Reid slowly got to his feet, suddenly feeling very apprehensive.
20
Adrian had killed again—re-lived the moment when he had taken a life.
And not just any life.
He felt the same sense of horror, shame, and crippling guilt. And he knew that his own life was now forfeit, no longer worth living.
He did not deserve to exist anymore.
He had just proven that he was exactly like his father.
Adrian raised the pillow and looked at the lifeless husk on the bed below him. A frozen expression of panic was etched on the face of the corpse. That look would stay with Adrian forever.
Then, everything changed.
The room he was in—one that he recognised from his past—disintegrated. It pulled itself apart like torn-up paper and blew away on a breeze that Adrian could not feel.
And the landscape he was now left standing in could be summed up in a single word—Hell.
That word perfectly captured the nightmarish surroundings.
And this hell was familiar to him.
Behind him was the same boiling expanse of water that he had seen before. The landscape was as he expected—vast plains of black rock with towers and mountains in the distance. Large ravines sunk down in places, and there were pockets of moving, vein-like trees, some denser than others, scattered about.
And up above was an alien sky.
And that eye.
It both amazed him and filled him with wonder, but also instilled in him a profound sense of dread that shook him to his core. Never had he felt as insignificant as he did under the gaze of that unknowable thing.
Then he heard the voice.
Not from the cosmic entity above, but from somewhere else.
From the boiling sea.
‘Adriaaaaan.’
Adrian awoke with the sound of that terrifying, inhuman voice still playing in his mind.
As inexplicable as it was, it sounded both evil and ancient at the same time. Even though he knew it was something that had only been conjured up by his sub-conscious, it still scared him.
He looked around and realised he was still in his room, but his door was now closed. It was dark outside and, again, his stomach cried out in hungry protest. But it was too late to feed now.
He must have dozed off after lying on his bed, though for how long he had no idea. All he knew was that it was now the dead of night.
And people were approaching outside.
He heard muffled voices, but could not make out what was being said. He did recognise some of them, however—Director Templeton and Dr. Reid.
‘I just think I owe you an explanation,’ Reid said, as they approached the door to Tom Cunningham’s room. ‘About the diary.’
Templeton gave a dismissive wave of his hand. ‘Not necessary. We’ve more important matters at hand.’
The two of them were accompanied by Jones and three other orderlies, one of whom had with him an intravenous drip connected to a plastic bag. He was carrying it very carefully, and a black substance swam within the bag.
The medicine.
Another orderly had some heavy-looking leather restraints with him, while Duckworth was wheeling another bed down the corridor. Its rusty wheels squeaked with every turn.
Lastly, Jones was carrying with him the same weapon Reid had seen him use only the night before. When Reid had first laid eyes on the weapon strapped on Jones’ back, Reid had raised an inquisitive eyebrow at Templeton. The director had merely shrugged.
‘All will become clear,’ he’d said. ‘But I hope it won’t be needed.’
Templeton unlocked the door, and they entered to see the patient curled up in bed on top of his covers, his thin clothing soaking with sweat. A potent, sour odour permeated the air.
‘Good evening, Tom,’ Templeton said to the man, who seemed to be rousing from sleep.
‘Huh?’ the disoriented patient croaked in reply, squinting through reddened eyes that narrowed further when Jones flicked on the single light above.
‘What’s happening?’ Tom asked, still groggy.
‘I think you know,’ Templeton said. ‘Time for more of your medication.’
Tom curled his top lip, and Reid was a little taken aback at how ill the man looked. No medication in the world would save him.
‘Don’t want it,’ the patient said, but Templeton only chuckled.
‘We will decide what is best for you.’ He then turned to the orderlies. ‘Prepare him.’
‘No!’ Tom managed to yell out, but it sounded weak and feeble.
Jones and the others descended on him.
Adrian could hear something happening in the room next door.
Tom’s room.
He could hear the old man yelling out in protest. Adrian knew what was taking place and, after last night, had an idea of what would become of Tom.
He considered screaming for them to stop, to try to prevent what was happening, though he knew it wouldn’t do much good.
So why waste the energy?
Every single soul in this asylum was doomed.
He knew that.
Might as well accept what was deserved.
Reid was never one for showing much in the way of emotion, certainly not towards his patients, but seeing the old man—desperate and weak—so easily overpowered and strapped down to the mobile bed they’d brought with them, made Reid feel sorry for Tom.
‘Please,’ Tom begged, and Reid could see tears roll from the sides of his eyes, following the wrinkles and contours of the man’s cracked skin. ‘I can’t bear any more.’
Templeton bent down and brought his face close to Tom’s ear. In a gentle voice, he whispered to the old man, ‘Try not to resist. I promise you, Mr. Cunningham, this will be the last time you will ever have to take this medicine. And afterward you will be relieved of all your misery, torture, and torment.’ He raised a finger and placed it to the centre of Tom’s forehead. ‘You will be free.’
‘I’ll die,’ Tom argued, his voice cracking as he started to sob.
Templeton did not confirm or deny the statement. �
��Be brave,’ was all he said. Then he turned to the orderlies again. ‘Insert the drip. Let’s begin.’
Tom could only cry, helplessly, as the men got to work. A sharp needle penetrated the skin to the inside of his arm and found a vein. A cannula was then inserted, connected to a drip bag that was held on a thin metal stand.
Reid watched on as the black liquid oozed down the length of the transparent pipe and into Tom’s veins.
‘Please,’ Tom begged again, but his voice was not one of importance or consequence. He simply did not matter.
Adrian continued to try and ignore what was taking place next door. After being put into isolation and beaten by Jones, he did not want to give them a reason to punish him any further. And he certainly didn’t want to give them cause to up his treatment.
But Tom’s pitiful moans and pleading were getting to be too much. The poor old man had suffered far too much, and now he just needed some care and compassion.
Adrian sprung to his feet and thumped the wall with the meaty side of his fist. However, the wall was so thick that the strikes only gave off a pitiful, muffled thud, one he doubted would be heard by anyone but himself.
‘Leave him alone,’ Adrian yelled. ‘For the love of God, just leave us all alone!’
Reid could hear shouting coming from the cell next door, but, like everyone else in the room, he paid it no mind.
Instead, he was transfixed on Tom Cunningham, as the black ooze continued to enter his bloodstream.
‘How much are you putting in?’ Reid asked. ‘The last one I saw was only a few milligrams. Won’t this kill him?’
‘Just show patience, Dr. Reid,’ Templeton said. ‘As you can see for yourself, Tom is not in the best of health, so I want to be sure that we are on top of what is happening.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Remember what you told me, about what you witnessed last night?’
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