Robert Bloch's Psycho

by Chet Williamson

  The pair had run away together, but Ronald Miller had been waiting for them and killed them both, then stolen Gunn’s car …

  The ghosts of the old sanitarium had claimed them when they went into the cellar to have sex, and their bodies would never be found, their souls captured and tortured forever …

  Even the staff discussed the possibility of these disparate scenarios, though the consensus was that Myron and Eleanor had run off and then continued running, and wouldn’t be heard from again. This, however, was not the opinion of Judy Pearson, receptionist and Dr. Goldberg’s secretary, who was certain that Ronald Miller had never left the hospital and was still hiding in the facility, skulking between various rooms and closets, stealing food to survive, and biding his time. Myron and Eleanor had come across him, and he had killed them to shut them up and hidden their bodies somewhere. Now he was still on the premises with blood on his hands, prowling for his next victim, which Judy was afraid was going to be her.

  So when, just before she was due to leave for the day at six o’clock, Dr. Goldberg asked her to retrieve one of the older patient files from the cellar storage room, she felt more than slight trepidation. It was already dark, and odds were that no one would be in the cellar at this time of day.

  What made things worse was that the file room, one of the few rooms in the cellar that was humidity controlled, was down a short hall off of the main one. Once she went down that hall, she’d be trapped, if anyone (and by anyone, she thought of Ronald Miller) followed her.

  She stopped by the break room first to see if any of the attendants would go with her, but the only one there was Cappy Reilly, who grinned when he saw her. “Hey, Judy!” he said. “How ya doin’? Heading over to Delsey’s—join me for a beer?”

  Cappy had asked Judy that a dozen times since he started working at the hospital, and she had always declined, each time a bit chillier than the time before. She had thought he’d finally gotten the message, but apparently not. “I can’t,” she said. “I have to get some files from the cellar. Um … I was wondering if maybe you’d come with me?”

  “Well, now that’s an invitation I’ve been waiting for.” His grin grew broader and toothier. “I knew you’d come around eventually.”

  Her anger conquered her fear, and she gave her head a hard shake. “Never mind,” she said, turning to walk away. “I’ll be fine on my own.” At the door she turned back. “You’re disgusting,” she said, and walked out.

  “Your funeral, honey,” Judy heard him say as she stalked down the hall.

  Your funeral. Oh, damn it, she thought, then gritted her teeth and headed for the stairway. Going down there and finding the files would take ten minutes, tops. And it wasn’t like she was going down there by candlelight, like one of the heroines in those Gothic romances she always read. The lights in the hallway were plenty bright. She’d be fine. Ronald Miller was probably long gone. Probably.

  She hit the switch at the bottom of the stairs, and the cellar hallway was illuminated all the way down its length. She almost started to call out hello, but wasn’t sure if she wanted to make her presence known any more than it already was. Maybe whoever might be there would think she was a big, burly attendant and stay hidden.

  The short hallway that led to the office was halfway down the hall, and she walked carefully, trying to make no sound, her heart pounding. Some of the doors on either side of the corridor were closed. Others opened into darkness, and she walked against the opposite wall when she came to those. Not planning to go without a fight, she clutched her key ring so that the points of the keys stuck out from between her fingers like claws.

  When she got to the short hall, she slowly put her head around the corner, almost expecting something to jump out at her, but it was empty. She walked the few yards to the door, unlocked it, pushed it open, and immediately turned on the light.

  Fortunately the room wasn’t very big, and the filing cabinets were all against the far wall, so that there was nothing for anyone to hide behind. Judy kept the door open, not wanting to have to open it again to whatever might be in the hall when she left. She went directly to the T–Z file and removed the folder Dr. Goldberg wanted. It was when she was checking the contents to be sure the file had been correctly labeled that she heard the sound.

  It was a quick scuffling noise from the doorway, and she whipped around just in time to see a movement of something passing in the main corridor, from right to left as she viewed it, going in the direction from which she had come. In the fear that swept through her and wrapped ice around her throat, she couldn’t see the face or make out what the person was wearing, but they had shot by as if not wanting to be seen.

  She listened, but didn’t hear anything else. No footsteps, no breathing except her own. Then she heard what sounded like a door thudding shut.

  What was happening? Was he hiding in one of the rooms now? She put the keys back into her hand the way she had before, ready to claw out the eyes of any attacker. Then, holding the file under her arm, she quietly closed the drawer with her free hand and walked toward the door. Before she locked it behind her, she would peek out into the hall to make certain no one was still there.

  Just as she reached the doorway, a large figure suddenly appeared, shadowed against the light from the hall.

  Judy gave a quick yelp, leapt back into the room, and slammed the door closed behind her, turning the catch so that it was locked. She stood leaning against the door, panting in panic, feeling sweat coat her face, hoping that her ratcheting heart wouldn’t burst. What could she do? There was no escape from this room. She looked around wildly for air vents, thinking that she could suffocate if she had to stay there too long. But she couldn’t open the door, not now, not ever, even if the air ran out—

  She jumped at a soft knock on the door. “Judy?” a voice said.

  It was familiar to her.

  “Hey, it’s me, Cappy. Sorry I scared you. I came down to apologize. I really acted like an idiot up there. I know you were a little scared to come down here alone, so I figured I’d just keep you company; that’s it, really.”

  Cappy. God damn him. But at the same time, God bless him. “Okay,” she said, but her throat was so tight the word didn’t come out. “Okay,” she said again, and wiped the sweat from her face before she opened the door.

  Cappy stood there, smiling sheepishly. “I really am sorry.” Then he noticed how white her face was. “Are you okay?”

  “Not really.” The words raced out of her, and she moved past him to look down the hall. “Somebody was down here. I heard them, like they were trying to move fast and not have me see them. Did you see anyone when you came down?”

  “No, not a soul. When did this all happen?”

  “Just now!”

  Cappy shrugged. “I know I would’ve seen anybody there, but there wasn’t—or on the stairs.”

  Judy thought for a second. “He must have gone into one of the rooms. I heard a door close!”

  “Which way did he go?” Cappy asked.

  “That way,” she said, pointing down the hall to her left.

  “That’s how I came down,” he said, “but I didn’t see him. We gotta check these rooms.”

  “What do you mean, we?”

  He chuckled. “I mean we as in some of the guys. Look, let’s walk to the end of the hall, then you run up the stairs and get two, maybe three attendants to come down here. Tell ’em possible escape. I’ll stay here and keep an eye on the hall to make sure nobody slips out of a room, okay?”

  Judy nodded, pushed open the door to the stairs, and ran up them. She quickly gathered several of the men from their evening posts and led them back down, all the time clutching Dr. Goldberg’s requested report under her arm. Then she waited while the attendants went from one room to the next, using master keys to open the locked doors.

  When they reached the short hall that led to the records room, Cappy said, “You’re sure he didn’t go to your right, Judy?”

  “No
, he’d be in one of these rooms,” she said, indicating the portion of the hall they’d already searched.

  “Well, he’s not in any of them. And I was coming down the stairs, so he either disappeared or we missed him.”

  “We didn’t miss him,” growled one of the men.

  “Or,” Cappy went on, “it was maybe your imagination?”

  “I know what I saw, Cappy,” she said. “And what I heard.” She tried to keep the anger out of her voice. “Thanks for checking anyway.” She walked down the short hall to the records room, turned off the light, locked the door, and walked past the men to the stairs.

  When she took the file folder from under her arm, she saw that it was damp with sweat. She waved it in the air to try and dry it as she walked to Dr. Goldberg’s office, feeling embarrassed, slightly relieved, but still frightened.

  * * *

  Robert hadn’t visited Norman for a long time, and Norman missed him. He wasn’t exactly sure how long it had been, as he lost track of days, since each one was the same and seemed to blend into the other. Norman really had no religion, so Sunday didn’t have the significance for him that it did for others, and he never attended the morning services on that day.

  It wasn’t until he mentioned to Dr. Reed that he missed his brother that he knew how long it had really been. “Over two weeks,” Dr. Reed said. “Robert called me just today, in fact, and asked me to apologize to you for not having come in. He said he’s been very busy with both work and family. Apparently his children have been ill with the flu, and he’s had to handle his diner alone while his wife takes care of them.”

  “Are they all right?” Norman asked, alarmed by this news of his niece and nephew.

  “They’re fine,” Dr. Reed said. “They’re going back to school tomorrow, in fact, and Robert said he’d come visit you tonight, if that’s all right with you.”

  “Sure!” Norman said, delighted by the prospect.

  When Norman saw Robert walk into his room that evening several hours after dinner, Robert seemed as anxious to see Norman as Norman had been to see him. Robert hugged him and sat down, keeping his hand on Norman’s shoulder. He apologized for having taken so long between visits, and promised that he would see Norman more frequently, now that the kids were no longer ill.

  “I, uh, understand that you’ve had a burden lifted from your shoulders,” Robert said with a soft smile.

  “You … you mean that man? Myron Gunn?”

  “And an exceptionally annoying head nurse as well, I believe.”

  “How did you…? Did Dr. Reed tell you about it?”

  “He did. He knew how concerned I was with the way you’ve been treated by some of the staff here.”

  Norman nodded. “People are saying they ran away together,” he said, suddenly unable to meet Robert’s gaze.

  “And do you believe that?” Robert asked. His voice had gone flat. Norman didn’t answer. He looked down at the floor between his feet. “Did you have a dream, Norman?” Robert asked. “The night they disappeared? Did you … see anything?”

  Norman didn’t answer right away. Then, softly, he spoke. “I didn’t … see anything. I had a dream, that was all.”

  “And what did you dream?”

  “I dreamt about him. Myron Gunn. And Nurse Lindstrom. I dreamt about them. I saw their faces, that was all.”

  “And how did their faces look?” Robert asked.

  “They looked … scared.”

  Norman looked up at Robert, who nodded, that same soft smile on his face. “I told you not to worry, didn’t I? That I wouldn’t let anyone hurt you. I meant that, Norman. No one here is going to hurt you.”

  “Do you think … will they come back?”

  “They’re not coming back, Norman. They ran away together, and they’re staying away. They won’t bother you again. Not ever. So don’t worry, little brother.”

  “Robert,” Norman said, “did you … did you make them go away?”

  “Norman,” Robert said, shaking his head. “Norman, Norman, Norman. How could I make people fall in love and run off together? I run a diner. I could make them a great plate of ham and eggs, though.” He laughed and slapped Norman on the shoulder. “Gone is gone, right? No matter how it gets done. Look, Myron Gunn and his friend are probably sunning themselves on a beach in Jamaica right now. What’s important is that they aren’t here. So enjoy their absence and stop worrying. Now. Let me tell you about this crazy thing that Susie said when she was sick the other day. She threw up, okay? And Mindy comes in to clean it up, and…”

  Norman started smiling as Robert continued the story, and when it was finished, he laughed. He loved his brother, and he hoped that someday, somehow, he might be able to meet Robert’s family.

  Once the initial talk of Myron Gunn and Nurse Lindstrom was finished, they had a wonderful visit, but it was over surprisingly fast. It seemed as though Dr. Reed knocked on the door only minutes after Robert had entered. His brother promised to come back in a few days, and, for the first time, kissed Norman on the cheek when he left. Norman was happy, and read himself to sleep. He had no dreams.

  Several days later, Norman was surprised to find Dr. Reed visiting his room in the morning after breakfast. Usually Norman used those few hours to read privately. He sat up quickly, since Dr. Reed looked concerned. Still, the doctor smiled and nodded to the book Norman was holding. “What are you reading today?” he asked.

  “Silvertip’s Chase by Max Brand,” Norman replied. “There’s a whole series of books about this Silvertip … they call him that because he’s got these gray hairs at his…” Something was wrong, and Norman looked pointedly at Dr. Reed. “What is it?”

  Dr. Reed sighed and sat next to Norman. “Oh, Norman, you’re so full of conversation with me and with your brother. And even sometimes with Nurse Marie. But in all your time here, have you ever spoken—really spoken—to anyone other than the three of us? And Ronald Miller, when you had to?”

  Norman, reverting in the face of what he considered Dr. Reed’s criticism, didn’t speak, only shook his head no.

  “I know. I know you haven’t. But you’re going to have to start, and soon. You remember Dr. Goldberg?” Norman nodded again. “He thinks your socialization skills should be improving. Of course, I agree with him. But I had hoped that through therapy we might be able to improve that aspect of your personality. And you’ve been … reticent, Norman. While you’ve shown enough improvement for me to continue as we’ve been doing in the past, Dr. Goldberg would like to see faster progress.”

  “But … but why? I mean, what does it matter if I like to stay by myself? And just talk to you and Robert? I’m not hurting anybody.”

  Dr. Reed sighed. “I hate to say it, Norman, but it’s a question of efficiency. At least where Dr. Goldberg is concerned. The doctor likes to see results. His goal isn’t to see that you walk out of here, but it is to return you to as close to normalcy as you can get. That way you can become a part of the general population here instead of the special designation that you now have. For example, we still don’t think that you can take your meals in the dining hall, since that’s a prime socialization environment. With people sitting on either side of you and across from you, you have to relate in some way to them, which you don’t have to do in the less structured area of the social hall. There you can just sit and read a magazine or watch television without interacting, you understand?”

  Norman nodded.

  “You can answer me aloud. I’d prefer that you did.”

  “Yes … I understand.”

  “You see, the way Dr. Goldberg looks at it, if you can comfortably join the other patients in the dining hall, then three times a day that frees up Nurse Marie or other nurses and attendants to work with patients who need their help more than you might.”

  “I see,” Norman said.

  “But as your doctor, those concerns are secondary to me. What’s most important is moving you forward, and I don’t care how fast or slow as long a
s you’re making progress, which you’ve been doing steadily. Unfortunately, Dr. Goldberg doesn’t feel the same way.” Dr. Reed took a deep breath.

  “The doctor is going to visit you again, Norman. Just him and me. No Dr. Steiner or Dr. Berkowitz. But like the last time, he’s going to want to engage in conversation, just the way I do with you. There’s nothing to be scared of. And you don’t have to say much, just enough so that he knows you’re responding verbally to him. Just pretend that he’s me, if that helps. Or Robert. Though I wouldn’t mention your brother to him, since he doesn’t yet know about the visits, and I wouldn’t want him to prohibit them. I think your meetings with Robert have had a good effect on you.” Dr. Reed put a hand on Norman’s shoulder and looked intently into his eyes. “He’s going to come here, Norman, to your room. He wanted me to bring you to his office, but I thought you’d be more comfortable here. Is that true?”

  “Yes.”

  “Please try, Norman. Talk to Dr. Goldberg. That’s all he wants, to see some progress. Will you try?”

  “Yes,” Norman said. “I will. I really will.”

  * * *

  Dr. Goldberg visited Norman that afternoon. He and Dr. Reed came into Norman’s room together. This time, Norman set down his book, stood up, and smiled, trying to see only Dr. Reed and not the big man with the steel-gray hair and beard, who hulked in front of him like a bear. In fact, after a first brief glance at Dr. Goldberg, Norman kept his gaze fixed on Dr. Reed.

  “Norman, you remember Dr. Goldberg?” Dr. Reed asked. Norman looked quickly at Dr. Goldberg, then away again. The smile felt fixed and rigid on Norman’s face. He knew what he needed to do. He needed to look directly at Goldberg, smile even more, extend his hand for the man to shake, say, Why, of course. Hello, Dr. Goldberg, and how are you today?

  But when he looked at Goldberg, he remembered the man’s first visit with the other doctors, and how crowded his little room had seemed, to the point of Norman’s not being able to breathe. He remembered being terrified to speak, remembered the way the man had loomed over him, as if daring him to talk. Oh yes, he remembered Dr. Goldberg, all right.