Method of Madness

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Method of Madness Page 17

by Brad Kelln


  Wa let that sink in be­fo­re he spo­ke aga­in. "So what hap­pe­ned to this Nick Stan­gos guy?"

  "Oh, Nick," Gary sa­id. "I re­al­ly don't know. I was le­aving on a trip to Qum­ran in the Juda­e­an de­sert for a grad scho­ol ex­pe­di­ti­on, and abo­ut a we­ek be­fo­re I left, Nick was kic­ked out of se­mi­nary."

  "Wa­it a mi­nu­te, did you say Qum­ran?"

  The pas­tor lo­oked start­led. "Yes."

  Wa's vo­ice sho­ok. "What's Qum­ran?"

  "Qum­ran?" The pas­tor was still con­fu­sed by the sud­den shift. "Not­hing. Don't worry abo­ut it. Just so­me stuffy bib­li­cal thing."

  "I've he­ard that word be­fo­re. A co­up­le of ti­mes when I tho­ught I was hal- lu­ci­na­ting or so­met­hing. It's so bi­zar­re to he­ar you say it. What is it?"

  "You hal­lu­ci­na­ted and he­ard'Qum­ran'?"

  "Ye­ah, I gu­ess. What is it?"

  Gary didn't res­pond right away. He was ob­vi­o­usly we­ig­hing this all out in his mind. Fi­nal­ly he spo­ke in a ca­re­ful, al­most re­he­ar­sed way. "I gu­ess it co­uldn't hurt to gi­ve you the aca­de­mic thirty-se­cond talk." He smi­led awk­wardly. "The Qum­ran ru­ins are a se­ri­es of struc­tu­res ne­ar the si­te whe­re the De­ad Sea Scrolls we­re dis­co­ve­red."

  "The De­ad Sea Scrolls. I've he­ard of them. That's whe­re the Bib­le co­mes from?"

  Gary sho­ok his he­ad. "Not re­al­ly. The Scrolls we­ren't dis­co­ve­red un­til 1947 and only then by ac­ci­dent. A yo­ung Be­do­u­in shep­herd, se­arc­hing for a stray in the Juda­e­an de­sert, en­te­red a ca­ve and fo­und jars fil­led with scrolls. At that ti­me the­re we­re only se­ven scrolls, but over the co­ur­se of al­most a de­ca­de of ex­ca­va­ti­on, tho­usands of scroll frag­ments we­re fo­und from ele­ven dif­fe­rent ca­ves in the area."

  "So the Scrolls we­re co­pi­es of the Bib­le?"

  "Well, yes and no. So­me of the jars de­fi­ni­tely con­ta­ined early ver­si­ons of the Bib­le-very early ver­si­ons. The Qum­ran si­te and the Scroll Jars ha­ve be­en da­ted to al­most the exact ti­me of Jesus Christ. The­se are the ear­li­est bib­li­cal wri­tings ever dis­co­ve­red. So­me sug­gest that the wri­tings may ha­ve be­en by Jesus and the twel­ve dis­cip­les them­sel­ves that we­re ins­pi­red di­rectly by God.

  The un­for­tu­na­te part is that only bits and pi­eces of the Scrolls co­uld be re­co­ve­red. The cen­tu­ri­es that pas­sed to­ok a he­avy toll."

  Wa grun­ted. "That do­esn't exp­la­in why I he­ard the word 'Qum­ran.' What's that got to do with anyt­hing?"

  "I don't think I'm the per­son to help you with that."

  Wa sho­ok his he­ad. "Let's get back to what you we­re sa­ying be­fo­re. You sa­id this Nick cha­rac­ter was kic­ked out of se­mi­nary?"

  The pas­tor nod­ded. "Right. I gu­ess the ad­mi­nist­ra­ti­on got wind of his sec­ret ex­pe­ri­ments with the ext­re­me low fre­qu­ency be­ams and shut him down. It was con­si­de­red a ma­j­or bre­ach of et­hics."

  "So he ac­tu­al­ly had so­me kind of we­apon to test?"

  "Well, sort of. I think I'm the only per­son he ever ac­tu­al­ly used it on. He was ca­ught trying to get ot­her vo­lun­te­ers."

  "He tri­ed the thing on you?"

  Gary smi­led. "Yes."

  Wa shrug­ged. "Did it do anyt­hing?"

  "I'm still he­re, aren't I?"

  Wa nod­ded. "That's qu­ite the story, pas­tor. Qu­ite the story."

  "What sho­uld I do then?" Wa fi­nal­ly as­ked. "I me­an if so­met­hing re­al­ly is scre­wed up in my he­ad."

  The pas­tor pul­led in a de­ep bre­ath. "You ne­ed to talk to a pro­fes­si­onal."

  Wa nod­ded. It was last thing he wan­ted to do and yet it was what he ex­pec­ted right from the start. He ne­eded to talk to so­me­one and he knew exactly who that was go­ing to be. The­re was only one cho­ice. The­re was only one per­son com­mon to all of the pa­in and suf­fe­ring. He sto­od to le­ave.

  "Oh, can I get yo­ur num­ber? Just in ca­se I think of so­met­hing el­se," Gary as­ked.

  Wa qu­ickly ga­ve him his cell pho­ne num­ber. He was eager to le­ave. Wa than­ked the pas­tor for the help and he­aded back to his car.

  Sit­ting in­si­de his Sa­turn, Wa pul­led his pho­ne out and di­aled a num­ber. The pho­ne had just star­ted to ring as he dro­ve out of the church par­king lot.

  Pas­tor Wright­land sto­od in the do­or­way of the church and watc­hed Wa go. He was fo­cu­sed so in­tently that his eyes didn't even blink. He kept watc­hing un­til long af­ter the­re was not­hing to see.

  THIRTY-ONE

  "I'm sorry, Nor­ma," Wen­ton sa­id as he re­tur­ned to a cha­ir next to her. He ho­ped that Ma­ri­on hadn't se­en Nor­ma in his of­fi­ce.

  "Did you ans­wer my pho­ne?" he as­ked.

  Nor­ma lo­oked to the pho­ne on the desk and nod­ded.

  Wen­ton was not happy abo­ut that. "Who cal­led?"

  She lic­ked her lips be­fo­re res­pon­ding, so­met­hing Wen­ton fo­und qu­ite dist­rac­ting. "So­me cop na­med Wa. He wants to talk to you to­night at the Fi­re­si­de Ro­om."

  "Is that all he sa­id?"

  Nor­ma sta­red at him blankly.

  "What's the mat­ter?"

  She sho­ok her he­ad. "Not­hing."

  She's ac­ting so fuc­kin' we­ird, Wen­ton tho­ught. Fuck. He'd cal­led her the­re to see if he co­uld per­su­ade her to drop the aca­de­mic mis­con­duct char­ges aga­inst him. It didn't lo­ok pro­mi­sing. He de­ci­ded to try a new tact.

  "Nor­ma," Wen­ton ur­ged, "I'm so sorry abo­ut the ot­her night. I'm un­der so much stress with everyt­hing. I li­te­ral­ly had so­me kind of bre­ak­down. It won't hap­pen aga­in."

  "Oh," she sa­id so­lemnly and lo­oked away from him. She ob­vi­o­usly had no in­ten­ti­on of ma­king anyt­hing easy for him.

  "Can't we try aga­in?" Wen­ton ur­ged.

  She didn't ans­wer.

  Wen­ton le­aned clo­ser. "Nor­ma?" Ans­wer me you bitch.

  Sud­denly her eyes flo­oded with te­ars. "Back away. Ple­ase." She sto­od and step­ped away from him.

  What's up with her? "Don't be li­ke that. We ne­ed to be pro­fes­si­onal. I re­al­ly want to work with you."

  "Ple­ase," she sa­id, co­ve­ring her eyes. "I'm dirty." She didn't want to lo­ok at him aga­in. "I sho­uld go."

  "Nor­ma," Wen­ton bar­ked. "What's the mat­ter with you?"

  "I don't know," she sa­id, ge­nu­inely con­fu­sed.

  "Lo­ok, you're not dirty. You're the first gra­du­ate stu­dent I've wor­ked with be­ca­use I see mo­re ta­lent in you than any ot­her stu­dent that's co­me thro­ugh he­re. I want to help you re­ach yo­ur po­ten­ti­al." He smi­led har­der re­ali­zing that this prac­ti­ced exp­res­si­on was the sa­me one he used when he told an of­fen­der that he'd ne­ver bet­ray the­ir trust. Idi­ots.

  "You don't me­an that," she sa­id qu­i­etly.

  "I do," he sa­id, gi­ving her a pat on the sho­ul­der. "So let's stop this fo­olish­ness and start tal­king abo­ut what mind-blo­wing re­se­arch we're go­ing to do to­get­her. You can just drop all the silly comp­la­ints."

  "Okay," she sa­id softly. She didn't want to gi­ve in, but it was so easy. She co­uldn't think cle­arly, and Wen­ton se­emed re­aso­nab­le now. He tho­ught she was smart, and she wan­ted to be­li­eve him so badly.

  THIRTY-TWO

  "SO WHY'D YOU CALL ME HE­RE ac­ross from Mitc­hell Wa at the Fi­re­si­de Ro­om just off Spring Gar­den Ro­ad ne­ar the co­urt­ho­use. The bar ge­ne­ral­ly at­trac­ted a qu­i­eter, ol­der crowd, which al­lo­wed the pat­rons mo­re of a chan­ce to talk. It was a com­for­tab­le, dark pla­ce full of le­at­her bo­oths and wo­oden bar sto­ols. The nar­row pub stretc­hed back in­to a swirl of smo­ke whe­re
Wa had se­lec­ted a tab­le as far away from the busy bar as pos­sib­le.

  "I wan­ted to ask you so­met­hing," Wa be­gan.

  Wen­ton nod­ded, "Abo­ut Bri­an Cla­ric?"

  "No. Why?"

  "Ne­ver mind." Wen­ton dis­mis­sed the qu­es­ti­on with a wa­ve of his hand.

  A wa­it­ress ap­pe­ared next to the­ir bo­oth, and they each or­de­red a Clancy's on tap.

  "So what do you want?" Wen­ton as­ked.

  Wa to­ok a bre­ath be­fo­re he be­gan. "When I saw you a few days ago you we­re as­king so­me stran­ge qu­es­ti­ons. You wan­ted to know if Ed­ward Car­ter had chan­ged me, if things we­re dif­fe­rent now. You sa­id you had a new the­ory on how Car­ter co­uld get in­si­de pe­op­le, that the­re was still so­met­hing go­ing on even tho­ugh Ed­ward was de­ad. Why'd you say that? Did it ha­ve so­met­hing to do with this Cla­ric guy?"

  Wen­ton shrug­ged. "I don't know. For­get abo­ut it."

  "I can't do that."

  "What's yo­ur prob­lem? You told me you we­re sus­pen­ded or so­met­hing," sa­id Wen­ton.

  "Ye­ah, I be­at up a sus­pect. A pe­dop­hi­le. I was chec­king him out for an of­fen­se aga­inst a yo­ung boy in Dart­mo­uth."

  "Who was the sus­pect? I've wor­ked the sex of­fen­der prog­rams. I know most of sex of­fen­ders in the area."

  Wa knew it was a bre­ach of po­li­ce pro­to­col to na­me a sus­pect in an in­ves­ti­ga­ti­on. "Terry Mes­si­er." It didn't se­em to mat­ter any­mo­re, not­hing did.

  Wen­ton la­ug­hed, a lit­tle snort. "He's an as­sho­le."

  "Ye­ah."

  "So what'd he do? Why'd you be­at him up?"

  Wa pa­used. He didn't know if he was re­ady to tell Wen­ton everyt­hing.

  "I was in­ter­vi­ewing Mes­si­er, trying to get so­me in­for­ma­ti­on on the re­cent of­fen­se. He wasn't be­ing co­ope­ra­ti­ve, which didn't surp­ri­se an­yo­ne. Well, part way thro­ugh I lo­ok up and who do I see ac­ross the tab­le? Ed­ward Car­ter. I swe­ar I lo­oked up and sud­denly Ed­ward was sit­ting the­re, grin­ning at me. He star­ted tal­king all sorts of shit abo­ut my fa­mily and I just lost it. When the ot­her cops fi­nal­ly pul­led me off the guy it wasn't Ed­ward any- mo­re. It was Mes­si­er."

  Wen­ton threw his he­ad back, "Oh man. Un-fuc­king-be­li­evab­le!"

  This wa­it­ress ar­ri­ved back at the­ir bo­oth hol­ding the­ir fros­ted mugs. As she set the mugs down, Wen­ton to­ok a long lo­ok down her lo­ose blo­use.

  "Wen­ton. This isn't a joke. I've felt dif­fe­rent sin­ce all the Ed­ward Car­ter shit hap­pe­ned. I went and tal­ked to a pas­tor to­day and-"

  "You went whe­re? This is get­ting re­li­gi­o­us now?"

  "The pas­tor told me abo­ut a fri­end he had at the se­mi­nary who be­li­eved that re­li­gi­o­us ex­pe­ri­en­ces co­uld be en­han­ced with so­me kind of we­apon. He was de­ve­lo­ping one of the­se we­apons.

  "Co­me on," Wen­ton in­ter­rup­ted. "This is get­ting ri­di­cu­lo­us. You so­und li­ke Bri­an Cla­ric."

  "Why? What's he sa­ying?"

  "Bri­an's go­ne in­sa­ne. He got ca­ught up in the sto­ri­es of the men­tal pa­ti­ents and now he be­li­eves ECOR Phar­ma­ce­uti­cal is tar­ge­ting him with elect­ro­mag­ne­tic we­apons that ma­ke pe­op­le in­sa­ne. He thinks the­re's a who­le cons­pi­racy of il­le­gal ex­pe­ri­men­ta­ti­on aga­inst the un­sus­pec­ting ci­ti­zens of Ha­li­fax."

  "Why is that any mo­re crazy than Ed­ward Car­ter cre­ating in­sa­nity?" Wa as­ked, al­most in­no­cently. "You're the one who sa­id that I was in too de­ep, that the evil was go­ing to get me."

  "I'm pretty su­re I wo­uldn't say 'the evil is gon­na get you.'"

  "Wha­te­ver. You know so­met­hing stran­ge hap­pe­ned with the Car­ter ca­se. So­met­hing hap­pe­ned in the ho­use when you and Dal­lons fo­und him. Ed­ward was dif­fe­rent-an ano­maly or so­met­hing. He nic­ked pe­op­le up, per- ma­nently. He did so­met­hing to me and I think he did so­met­hing to you. The­re was so­met­hing abo­ut Ed­ward Car­ter that had the po­wer to chan­ge pe­op­le-even chan­ge you.

  Wen­ton knew Wa was right. He re­mem­be­red sit­ting ac­ross the tab­le from Car­ter in the MSPC and fe­eling the stran­ge po­wer at work. Wen­ton had watc­hed Ed­ward's fe­atu­res shift and chan­ge, as he tri­ed the ugly lo­ok that wo­uld af­fect Wen­ton the most.

  Wen­ton cho­se to ig­no­re the ar­gu­ment. "What do you want from me?"

  "I don't know. I fi­gu­red you'd be the only one who'd un­ders­tand what was go­ing on. You're the only one who can re­al­ly ap­pre­ci­ate what I'm talk- ing abo­ut."

  "What are you tal­king abo­ut?"

  "I think Ed­ward Car­ter was evil. I think that he was pu­re evil and that he so­me­how in­fec­ted me. I don't know if I let him in­fect me, or if I didn't ha­ve a cho­ice, but I know that I was chan­ged by my in­vol­ve­ment in that ca­se. I think you pro­bably we­re too. I know it kil­led Dal­lons."

  Wen­ton snor­ted. "Dal­lons was on his way out any­way."

  "Dal­lons," he snap­ped back, "was a go­od and de­cent man. He didn't de­ser­ve what hap­pe­ned to him."

  "And you don't de­ser­ve this eit­her, I sup­po­se."

  "As a mat­ter of fact, I don't."

  "What abo­ut me?"

  "I don't know shit abo­ut you."

  Wen­ton smi­led. "Don't know? Or don't ca­re?"

  "I'm not he­re to play ga­mes with you. Car­ter left a mark on pe­op­le that ma­de them act dif­fe­rently, wor­se. I want that mark off me. I want to re­ver­se the in­fec­ti­on that Ed­ward left in me."

  "Left a mark?" Wen­ton sa­id, smir­king. He co­uldn't help him­self.

  "Fuck you," Wa shot back and sto­od. "I'm le­aving."

  "Hold on the­re," Wen­ton sa­id qu­ickly, ra­ising both hands. "Ha­ve a se­at."

  Wa stop­ped, half-stan­ding. "What?"

  "You ha­ve to ad­mit it so­unds crazy."

  Wa drop­ped back in­to his se­at. "This who­le thing has so­un­ded crazy sin­ce it all be­gan."

  Wen­ton nod­ded. "So what's the ex­pe­ri­ment that yo­ur pri­est was tal­king abo­ut?"

  "It was a pas­tor. Lut­he­ran. Gary Wright­land."

  Wen­ton shrug­ged.

  Wa ig­no­red the ges­tu­re and fil­led him in on so­me of what he and Pas­tor Wright­land had dis­cus­sed ear­li­er. He told Wen­ton abo­ut epi­lep­tic se­izu­res and re­li­gi­o­us ex­pe­ri­en­ce and abo­ut the re­se­arch in­to ext­re­mely low fre­qu­ency be­ams.

  Wen­ton smi­led. "So so­me pas­tor tells you this crap and sud­denly you think you've be­en zap­ped? This is the stuff of de­lu­si­ons, a men­tal pa­ti­ent's fan­tasy. You and yo­ur pri­est ought to get to­get­her with Cla­ric, you guys wo­uld lo­ve each ot­her. You sho­uld all go down to ECOR Phar­ma­ce­uti­cals."

  "Why do­es this Bri­an Cla­ric guy think it's ECOR?" Wa as­ked.

  "A co­up­le of cli­ents at the MSPC told sto­ri­es abo­ut be­ing zap­ped by elect­ro­nic we­apons and one of them sa­id it was ECOR be­hind the cons­pi­racy. Mind you, this in­for­ma­ti­on ca­me from a disg­runt­led ex-emplo­yee of ECOR."

  "And you think that's all bul­lshit?" Wa as­ked, mo­re of a rhe­to­ri­cal qu­es­ti­on.

  Wen­ton shrug­ged. "Cla­ric sa­id the­re we­re a lot of Web si­tes de­vo­ted to the to­pic. I chec­ked it out. He's right. It se­ems li­ke so­me of it is le­git. The­re might be we­apons aro­und. Pro­bably the mi­li­tary is pla­ying with them. I gu­ess I just fo­und it hard to be­li­eve that a ma­j­or com­pany wo­uld run a sec­ret ex­pe­ri­ment just to ma­ke a bunch of ran­dom pe­op­le crazy. How much mo­ney can that ma­ke?"

  "But it's pla­usib­le. Is that what you're sa­ying?" Wa as­ked, the con­cern evi­de
nt on his fa­ce.

  "Anything's pos­sib­le," Wen­ton ans­we­red wit­ho­ut con­vic­ti­on.

  Wa lo­oked away from him, de­ep in tho­ught. "I'm go­ing to ECOR Phar­ma­ce­uti­cals," he fi­nal­ly an­no­un­ced.

  "Oh fuck," Wen­ton mo­aned. "He­re we go aga­in."

  Wa's exp­res­si­on was ste­el. "And you're go­ing with me. It's ti­me for so­me fuc­kin' ans­wers."

  THIRTY-THREE

  "Bet­ter ke­ep an eye on that one," Eric sa­id as he to­ok a se­at next to his fel­low cor­rec­ti­onal wor­ker, Bob.

  "Who, the shrink?" Bob sa­id, not lo­oking away from his news­pa­per. The two men we­re in­si­de an oc­ta­go­nal of­fi­ce in the cor­rec­ti­onal cent­re. From this cont­rol sta­ti­on they co­uld see down fo­ur dif­fe­rent cor­ri­dors to the rows of cells. The bor­der of the small ro­om was lit­te­red with switc­hes, mo­ni­tors and in­ter­coms.

  "Ye­ah, he's pa­cing the cell back the­re, mumb­ling shit. He's not lo­oking re­al go­od."

  Bob la­ug­hed. "Got­ta be so­me pa­ra­dox he­re so­mew­he­re. A shrink go­ing crazy."

  "Irony," Eric cor­rec­ted.

  "What?"

  "The shrink go­ing crazy. That's irony. Not a pa­ra­dox."

  Bob frow­ned and wa­ved Eric away with the back of his hand. "Fuck you."

  ***

  No. No. No. No. I can't be he­re. I can't be he­re. This isn't re­al. This isn't me. I ne­ed to get out of he­re. I can't be he­re.

  Cla­ric step­ped qu­ickly to one si­de of his cell. He was temp­ted to scre­am out thro­ugh the bars, get the at­ten­ti­on of the gu­ard who just wal­ked past. He wan­ted to exp­la­in that he wasn't crazy, that the­re re­al­ly was so­met­hing go­ing on, but he didn't know how he co­uld exp­la­in that wit­ho­ut lo­oking crazy. He mo­ved away from the bars and pa­ced back to the small sink.

  What do I do? What do I do? They must know I'm he­re now. I'm a sit­ting duck. I can't stay he­re. If they want to fi­nish the job up, zap me aga­in, I can't pro­tect myself. I can't pro­tect myself in he­re. The­re's now­he­re to go.

 

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