then I had a chance to see them one last time. See
them, hold them, talk to them, tell both of them how
much I loved them and how I was sorry I made Jackie
drag our family out on a stormy night like this j u s t be¬
cause I was too drunk to drive home myself. N o n e of
my words could change the past or make anything bet¬
ter, but I had to at least try.
"It's not far from here," the policeman said. "Get in
the cruiser, I'll take you there."
Arlene got out of the car and walked over toward us.
I held the police cruiser door open for her, thinking
and h o p i n g she was coming with m e , but she walked off
into the dark stormy night without another glance in
my direction.
She's walking out of my life, forever, I thought. At least
I had that part right.
Shaking my head to clear the rain and tears from my
eyes, I j u m p e d in the cruiser and waved for the cop to
get moving. On the ride over, I was praying I wouldn't
wake up. I wouldn't even speak to the police officer, think¬
ing that any change of thought or focus and my dream
might veer off in some other unwanted direction. This
was the closest I'd come to seeing my wife and son in
nearly four years and I knew it was too good to be true.
It wouldn't last, couldn't last, but if I could j u s t stay
asleep for five more minutes, to kiss Jackie one more
time, to hold little Daniel in my arms for just one m i n
ute, that was all I wanted. Was that asking too much?
My panic alarm started to go off as we left the city
limits, the police cruiser taking a left onto a paved road
that wound its way t h r o u g h a forest of tall sturdy trees.
There wasn't a hospital outside of the city. Was there?
Why hadn't they taken Jackie and Daniel to Buffalo
General. Surely it was closer to the accident scene than
this.
"Where are we?" I asked, looking at the policeman
for the first time since getting into his cruiser.
"We're at the medical center," he said. "Don't you
recognize the place?"
I looked back out the front window j u s t as the car
exited the woods and saw that we had entered the park¬
ing lot of N a t h a n Marshall's ugly red-bricked medical
center. There was an ambulance parked near the front
entrance, lights still flashing.
God, no! Not here!
"Why did they bring my family here? They need to
go to a real hospital. This place is evil."
"Evil? Listen, man, I don't know what to tell you, but
if you want to see y o u r wife and kid, this Is where they
are. If you'd rather I take you back into town—"
"No!" I screamed, a bit louder than intended. "Just
hurry u p , okay?" By the time we'd pulled to a stop be¬
side the ambulance, the policeman looked relieved to
see me get out of his car.
"Good luck, my friend."
I didn't bother answering or thanking him for the
ride. I took off r u n n i n g again. I couldn't bear the
thought of Dr. Marshall getting his hands on my fam¬
ily and every second might count. No one was inside
the ambulance so I headed for the front doors, only to
find both securely locked. I glanced back at the police
cruiser, ready to scream for help, but the words died in
my throat when I saw that it was Drake standing beside
the car, dressed in policeman blue and grinning at me
from under the brim of his rain-soaked hat. He pointed
at the door, then held up his big meaty fist and made a
knocking gesture in the air beside his head.
I didn't want to turn my back on Drake, but I was
more concerned for my family at the moment, so I
started pounding on the front door of the castle,
screaming for someone to let me in. The heavy door
swung open and Dr. Marshall's bitchy old secretary
ushered me in out of the rain.
"Where are they?" I asked, my fear barometer
steadily climbing, my patience gone.
"Relax, Mr. Fox. You'll find your family is quite well.
Dr. Marshall has taken care of them and they're both
resting comfortably up on the fourth floor. You can see
them anytime you'd like. I think you know the way."
With that, the secretary spun on her heels and walked
away into the high-domed atrium without a glance back
to see what I intended to do. N o t that I had any options.
The fourth floor—
Why would they have been taken to the fourth floor?
N o n e of the patient rooms were up there. The only
thing on that floor w a s —
No. Please, no!
I headed for the stairs, bolting up them two at a time,
moving as fast as I could. No matter how fast I moved,
though, I had a sinking feeling where this dream was
heading and there was no o u t r u n n i n g the shadow of
dread that followed, nipping at my heels. I burst into
the fourth-floor hallway and made a beeline for the
Bleeders' room halfway down the hall. It was the only
place up here my wife and son could possibly be.
At the door, I forced myself to walk inside. If I stopped
to catch my breath I might never work up the nerve to
go through with this. Jackie and Daniel were in the
first two beds on the right-hand side of the room, and
with one glance my worst fears were confirmed. Dr.
Marshall had cut their arms and legs off and turned
them both into Bleeders.
I ran to the foot of their beds, crying my eyes out
and wanting so desperately to tell them how sorry I
was this had happened, but I never got the chance.
Jackie took one look at me and turned her head away in
shame and disgust. Daniel, my pride and joy, didn't
turn away. N o , he looked right into my eyes and said,
"Look what you've done to us, Dad. I'll hate you for¬
ever for this."
I woke up screaming, my sheets soaked with so much
sweat it was as if I'd really been in the rainstorm of my
dream. I cried for hours, huge racking sobs, but no one
came to comfort me or see if I was okay. No one did
anything; not even the other Bleeders in the room with
me. Maybe they were used to hearing people scream,
or maybe they were lost within their own nightmares
tonight, and had no time to console me for mine. Ei¬
ther that, or perhaps there was j u s t no one left on earth
that gave a damn about me. ~
I closed my eyes and waited to die.
W h a t else could I do?
C H A P T E R T W E N T Y - F O U R
Lucas was right—this terrible place destroyed a man
after a while.
Wears him until he snaps.
I hadn't really understood the truth in what he'd said
at the time, and I hadn't been here even close to as long
as him, but as the days slowly turned to weeks, I had no
more doubts. As strong-willed and stubborn as I'd al¬
ways prided myself in being, I knew this place was go¬
ing to get the better of me. It was j u s t a matter of ti
me.
The days when they drained our blood were a total
write-off—nothing but pain and suffering and, eventu¬
ally, the welcome embrace of unconsciousness. On the
off days, when they left us alone, all we did was sleep
and hope the world would come to an end. As nighttime
approached, the tension in the air would crank up a
notch or two, everyone's thoughts—mine included—
t u r n i n g to what awaited with the rising of the sun. Ex¬
haustion, anxiety, then full-blown fear were familiar
emotions, a never-ending cycle interrupted only by
sleep and the inevitable arrival of the nurses with their
new batch of needles.
I wanted to die. So did all of the rest of the Bleeders—
the ones still coherent enough to know what was being
done to them, anyway. Kill us quickly, and get it over
with. This slow torturous death we'd been condemned
to was inhuman and unbearable. There was no end in
sight, though, and nothing we could do about it.
At least things couldn't possibly get any worse.
Wrong.
"Why haven't they come yet?" I asked Lucas. "Have
they ever forgotten before?"
It was a bad day today, but the nurses and orderlies
hadn't shown up to hook us up to the machines. The
clock on the wall indicated that it was almost noon, and
so far, at least, not a soul had entered our room.
"Never," Lucas replied, fear evident in his hushed
voice. "Very strange. Something must be up."
The words were barely out of his mouth, when the
door burst open and in walked Dr. Marshall and Alex¬
ander Drake. An audible gasp was heard around the
room, but then you could have heard a syringe needle
drop on the floor, everyone deathly silent wondering
what was about to happen.
Uh-oh. This can't be good.
Dr. Marshall and Drake never came up to the fourth
floor to see us. Never. I highly doubted this was a
friendly social call.
Lucas was right. Somethings going on. But what?
They walked from one end of the room to the other,
creepily pausing to check each of us out closely, before
moving on to the next bed. Dr. Marshall had appar¬
ently discarded his wheelchair, and was now using a
sturdy cane to help him maneuver around. He limped,
but it was hardly noticeable. Quite a remarkable recov¬
ery, especially considering those weren't even his legs.
Made me wonder whose legs they were, and what they
had done to the poor bastard they took them off. Was
he lying here beside m e , somewhere in this room, or
had his usefulness wore out, and he'd already made the
trip down the W A S T E D I S P O S A L chute to the incinerator
down in the basement?
Dr. Marshall and Drake whispered over by the win¬
dow, t u r n i n g to point to one bed or another, then slowly
started making their way back to the door. My heart
began to pound when they stopped at the foot of my
bed and turned to look straight at me.
"You sure?" Dr. Marshall asked his sidekick.
Drake looked at me with eyes as cold, black, and un¬
feeling as those of a great white shark staring down his
prey. Then he took a step closer, a feral grin on his face
that made the resemblance to the shark even more
chilling.
"Oh absolutely. He's the one," Drake said.
The one what?
Ashamed of myself, I was uncontrollably shaking
with fear in the presence of these two madmen. A few
m o n t h s ago, I would have shot back a smart-ass com¬
ment, or at least told them to go fuck themselves, but
most of my courage must have been cut away with my
arms and legs, because I stayed silent, not daring to
speak.
"Fair enough," Dr. Marshall said. "Bring him down
as quickly as possible, Drake. We've wasted too much
time already. I'll go and see that things are ready."
"Yes, sir. Right away."
Dr. Marshall left without another glance back, the
other men strapped in their beds totally insignificant to
him, now that his decision was made. No sooner was he
out the door when a tall lanky orderly pushed a padded
leather-covered gurney into the room and made his
way over to stand beside Drake.
"Let's go for a ride, Mike," Drake said, loving every
second of this. Then to the orderly, he whispered, "Get
him out of here."
"Where you taking m e ? " I asked the orderly, as he
unstrapped me from my bed and roughly heaved me
over onto the bedside gurney.
He ignored my question, not even making eye con¬
tact with m e , so I snouted at Drake, "What's going on,
Drake? Leave me alone, damn it!"
He just grinned and turned away, motioning with his
hand for the orderly to follow. Within seconds, I was re¬
strained on the gurney and being pushed toward the door.
I managed to get a quick look at Lucas and Red Beard.
Both of them were trembling as badly as I was, their faces
paler than Arctic ghosts. I might never see them again,
and I wanted to say something to calm their fears and tell
them not to worry about me, but I never got the chance. I
was out the door and heading down the hallway before
I could think of a single thing to say.
C H A P T E R - T W E N T Y - F I V E
It was a terrifying and disorienting ride on the gurney,
having no idea where I was headed and being strapped
flat on my back, seeing n o t h i n g but fluorescent lights
flashing by on the ceiling as we hurried to catch up
with Drake. He was waiting in the elevator, holding the
door as we entered, still g r i n n i n g at me like an evil
clown with a dirty secret. I knew better than to ask him
anything, so when the doors closed, the three of us
rode down a couple of floors in silence.
Another mad dash down the hallway, once again rac¬
ing to follow the chief of security (Was this the second
floor, or the first?) until Drake finally stopped at a double
set of solid wooden doors, putting his hand on a
wall-mounted scanner and waiting for clearance.
"I'll take him from here, Steve," Drake said to the
orderly, shooing him away and guiding the gurney him¬
self through the open doorway.
Once inside, with the door securely locked, Drake
wheeled me to the center of the room and flicked a
switch on my gurney that enabled him to stand me al¬
most upright, so I could see t h i n g s easier. N o t that
there was much to see. It was quiet inside the room; the
temperature cool and the air heavy with moisture,
reminding me of the saltwater aquariums my father
had taken me to at Marineland in Niagara Falls when I
was a kid. W h e n I craned my head around, I couldn't
see any water, nothing but a big empty room with
Drake and I as the only occupants.
"That you, Drake?" a familiar voice asked.
It was Dr. Marshall's voice, but I still couldn't see
him, or tell where it was coming from.
"Yes, sir," Drake responded. "Ready when you are."
Dr. Marshall appeared out of nowhere, seemingly
walking through a brick wall, until I noticed the heavy
dark curtain flopping back into place and realized there
was more to this room than I was seeing. He walked
over to us and stopped right in front of m e .
"Morning, Mr. Fox," Dr. Marshall started, his tone
light and jovial, which immediately made my skin
crawl. "Consider yourself lucky, my friend. You've been
chosen to take part in something incredible. Some¬
thing, dare I say, miraculous^
I actually started to laugh. I didn't mean t o , but I
couldn't help it. Perhaps my brain was a bit fried and I
was getting close to losing it, but the thought of me be¬
ing considered "lucky" was so far beyond ludicrous, I
couldn't help but chuckle.
"What's so amusing?" Dr. Marshall asked, the friendly
smile sliding off his face.
I knew better than to piss this psycho off further, but
I j u s t didn't care anymore. Screw him!
"You are," I shot back. "What's wrong with you?
You've cut me to shreds and turned me into something
that's not even h u m a n anymore, and I'm supposed to
feel lucky? Oh, for sure! T h a n k s so much, sir. God you're
pathetic. You're so freakin' out of your mind it's comi¬
cal, man. Just kill me and get it the fuck over with."
The room was quiet after my little tirade-—really
quiet—nobody m a k i n g a sound. Dr. Marshall stared at
m e , his body shaking with tension, hatred clearly shin¬
ing in his eyes, but he took a fall minute to compose
himself before speaking.
"Show him, Drake. Open the curtain."
Drake hurried over to the area where the surgeon
had appeared from a few minutes earlier, and found the
split in the center of the cloth. He opened the right-hand
half of the curtains, dragging the heavy drapes over
and securing them to the wall with a matching cloth
tieback bolted in place.
Beyond the curtain, the rest of the room was in dark¬
ness. I could make out a large glass container of some
sort, but with the way the meager light from this side of
the room was casting shadows, I couldn't make out what
I was supposed to be seeing.
Then Drake turned on the lights, and the breath was
literally sucked from my lungs as I stared in disbelief at
what was inside the glass tank.
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