by Amy Cross
A few minutes later, he emerged from the front of the building just in time to see one of his deputies helping Thomas Lacy into a waiting police car.
“He's not proper in the head,” the deputy said as he made his way over to join Wright. “I reckon last night left some permanent damage.”
“He'll be fine,” Wright muttered, before turning to look up at the front of Lakehurst's main building. “There's something not right about this place, you know. I feel it every time I have to come out here, it's just...” He looked across the lawn, and for a moment he watched the trees as they rustled in a gentle afternoon breeze. “It's all around,” he added finally. “I can't tell you what causes it, and I'm certainly not into any of that mystical garbage, but... There's something not right about Lakehurst. It's like the place creeps into the minds of sane men and somehow twists them rotten.”
The deputy sniffed. “My wife's sister says it's the old mines. You know this was mining country long before Lakehurst was built, right? She says whenever there was a big cave-in and the bodies were just left down there to -”
“Okay, that's enough,” Wright told him. “I'm not into ghost stories.”
“I'm just saying,” the deputy continued, “if she's right -”
“Your wife's sister?” Wright replied. “You mean Barbara, right? That woman's a loon, you shouldn't listen to her.”
“History's history. The mines were real enough.”
“Doesn't mean you've gotta go talking about all that other garbage. Anyone who's seen the real horrors of the world has no need for ghost stories.”
As Wright and his deputy continued to discuss the case, Lacy sat alone in the car, staring straight ahead. All he could think about was the events on the train, and he was replaying the scene over and over, obsessing over even the slightest details. Each time, he kept coming back to one point in particular, and one thing the attacker had said.
“It won't stop!” the man had shouted. “It's that voice! It keeps telling me to -”
The worst part was that as he sat in the car, in the shadow of Lakehurst, Thomas Clay Lacy was also starting to hear a voice. It was dull at first, right at the back of his mind, but it seemed to be whispering at the edge of his thoughts, getting a little louder with every passing second, whispering with an increasing sense of urgency from the air all around him. Somehow, he could already tell that it was going to get louder still.
***
“I'm going on my break,” Priscilla said with a smile as she leaned into the office at Middleford Cross. “You won't miss me for twenty minutes or so, will you?”
“It's raining!” Carol pointed out.
“I know, but...” She began to blush. “Well, you know how it is.”
“Go on,” Carol replied with a sigh. “He's back in town, is he?”
“I think so. I was expecting to hear from him, but perhaps he didn't have time to call ahead. Either way, he told me a couple of months ago that he'd be back tonight and that nothing would keep him away. He's always here when he says he will be, so...” She laughed. “Oh, I shouldn't be so eager, but I just am. I can't help it! I think he's going to surprise me.”
“Keep your feet on the ground,” Carol muttered.
“I will, I just... I can't help it, he's so dreamy!”
Heading along the corridor, Priscilla started whistling the song, the same one that had been stuck in her head for months now. She kept telling herself that there was a chance Thomas would be a day or two late, but by the time she got to the bottom of the stairs she was already grinning wildly, and by the time she got to the door and headed out into the dark yard, she felt certain he'd be waiting for her, even though the night's light rain had begun to fall more steadily now, threatening a deluge at any moment.
She continued to whistle for a moment as she looked around the cold, dark space and saw no-one waiting.
“Thomas?” she called out, taking a couple of steps forward. “Are you here, my darling? Honeybunch?”
Her smile lingered, although it was weakening a little as she made her way across the yard. She kept to the edge, trying to stay under the awning that provided some relief from the rain.
“Thomas? Say Thomas, are you about?”
Reaching the end of the yard, she peered around the corner and looked toward the garden, but there was still no sign of anyone. Frowning, she felt a chill wind as she made her way along the side of the building, heading to the main gate where she knew Thomas sometimes waited if the weather was bad. When she got there, however, she still saw no sign of him. As a train horn sounded in the distance, she realized that perhaps he wouldn't make it after all. She took a deep breath and told herself that there was no need to worry, that he'd simply arrive the next night instead.
Turning to go back inside, she found him standing right behind her.
“Oh!” she shouted, stepping back. “Thomas, what are you doing sneaking up on me like that?” She stepped forward and hugged him, breathing in his familiar cologne, before looking up at his calm, almost expressionless face. “Thomas, are you okay? I must say, you don't seem overwhelmed to see me!”
He blinked a couple of times, before looking down at her. “Do you hear it?” he asked finally.
“I'm beg your pardon?”
“Just be quiet for a moment and listen,” he continued, turning to look toward the hospital's main building. “It's everywhere. I thought I could leave it behind, I thought being with you would make it go away, but even here...”
His voice trailed off.
“Whatever are you talking about?” she asked, before reaching up and forcing him to look at her. “Honeybunch, it's raining and I think it's going to get worse. Why don't you come inside for a few minutes? It's not really allowed but, well, I don't want you to catch pneumonia. You're already soaking wet.” Taking his hand, she tried to lead him back toward the main building, but after a couple of paces she found that he wouldn't budge. “You're quite worrying me now,” she continued. “Please, let's just go inside. You don't want me to get wet, do you? We'll end up with pneumonia, the pair of us.”
“I saw a man die,” Lacy replied.
“You -” She paused. “I'm sorry?”
“Something happened,” he explained, taking a step toward her. “Something bad.”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“I...” He paused. “Never mind. It doesn't matter, I just...” He turned suddenly, as if he'd heard something. “It really is everywhere.”
“What is?” she asked. “Darling, the only sound is this infernal rain. Let's go inside.”
“He could hear it too,” he replied. “The man who attacked us in the train, I think it drove him to...” He paused again. “Now I hear it. It's like, most people don't hear it at all, even though it's all around, but... If something forces you to hear it, then you can never stop. It's there all the time.”
“Like Old Man River,” she suggested.
He frowned.
“It's from that movie I saw a few months ago. It's a song, but it got stuck in my head like a little ear worm and I just can't get it out. It goes around and around, over and over. I suppose it's just too darned catchy!”
He paused for a moment, before slowly nodding. “I guess it's something like that,” he muttered, “except in this case, it's not a song.”
“What is it, then?”
“It's... It's like a thought, or an idea. A feeling. I could hear it so clearly when I was at that Lakehurst place, and now even though I'm all the way back here, I can't make it stop.”
“Well...” Pausing, she stared at him for a moment, unable to shake the feeling that he seemed so very different. “Come on,” she said finally, trying once again to get him over to the door. “Let's get inside and you can tell me all about it. You've obviously had a rather difficult time, so maybe it would help you to talk.”
This time, he allowed himself to be led, although he said nothing. As they got closer to the door, however, he stopped and pulled hi
s hand free, placing it instead in his pocket.
“Honeybunch, please,” Priscilla said with a sigh, turning to him. “I'm trying to help, but you have to let me get you out of this rain! You're soaked through!”
“I can't stop it,” he whispered.
“The rain? Of course you can't, but you can get out of it!”
“I can't make it stop telling me these things,” he continued. “It's shouting them in my mind, over and over!”
“Darling -”
“It's getting louder,” he told her, his voice trembling with fear. “It wants me to... It...”
“Honeybunch -”
“I'm sorry,” he added. “Please, I'm sorry, but I don't know any other way to make it stop! You'll understand one day...”
“Thomas!”
Pulling a knife from his pocket, he sliced the blade into her throat while placing a hand over her mouth. Before she could react, he pulled the knife out and stabbed her again, then again and again, building up to a furious and frenzied attack that lasted several minutes. She let out a faint, muffled cry, but after a moment she fell silent. He knew quickly that she was dead, but still he held her lifeless body up in the rain and continued, while letting out a faint groan as he tried to drown the voice from his mind. The only thing that helped was to keep ramming the knife into her body, so he kept going until he realized that the wounds had begun to overlap one another. Instead of slicing through skin, the knife was now mostly just slopping into already opened sections on her belly and chest, and a wave of exhaustion passed over him until finally he stopped.
“I did it,” he whispered, as if the voice was still talking to him in his head. “I did it, okay? I did it, what more do you want from me?”
He pulled the knife out for the last time and stepped back.
Priscilla's body slumped down to the concrete floor. Hitting the ground hard, her head cracked open in the rain.
For the next few minutes, more rain fell on her body and began to wash some of the blood away. Her dead eyes were open, staring unblinkingly at the nearby wall. Eventually the door opened and a nurse peered out, calling her name. It took a few seconds before she spotted the body, and a few seconds more as she edged closer and then reached down to check on her. A moment later, a scream filled the air.
By that point, Thomas Clay Lacy was already running far off into the night.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Today
“Are you in a slightly better mood tonight?” Sharon asked as she knocked on the door and then carried a tray of food into the room. “Come on, Mr. Lacy, I don't like it when we fight. Can't we be friends?”
Stopping next to the bed, she realized that he hadn't heard a word she'd said. He had his case open, revealing the huge array of photos inside, and he was holding one of the photos in his trembling hand. Tears were rolling down his cheeks as he stared at the image of a smiling nurse, and he still gave no indication that he knew anyone else was in the room.
“Mr. Lacy?” Sharon said after a moment, setting the tray down. “Are you okay there?”
She paused, before reaching out and touching his arm.
“Mr. Lacy -”
“What?” Turning to her, he seemed startled for a moment, before looking down at her hand on his arm. Angrily, he brushed her away before closing the lid of his case. “What the hell do you want? Haven't you heard of knocking?”
“I did knock, Mr. Lacy, but -”
“Get out of here!” he shouted. “Go on! Out!”
“Mr. Lacy -”
Reaching over to the bedside table, he pushed the tray off the edge, sending the food and water crashing down onto the floor.
“Get away from me!” he sneered, before looking over at the other side of the bed. “They're coming! They're all coming!”
***
“Okay,” Nurse Olona said with a smile as he helped Elly hobble along the corridor, “that's really good. You're making great progress!”
Gasping, Elly managed to take another step. Her right ankle was excruciatingly painful, but she was determined not to let that show.
“Do you want to go back to your room now?” the nurse asked. “You really shouldn't strain yourself too much.”
“I want to do the full loop,” she said firmly, her voice tense with frustration. “I want to go the long way around to my room.”
“But -”
“I can manage by myself,” she continued, pulling away from him, “I just -”
Feeling her ankle buckle, she tried to steady herself against the wall but instead she fell, slamming down hard against the floor and letting out a cry of pain in the process.
“Easy, there,” the nurse said, crouching and checking her ankle for damage, before starting to help her up. “Okay, now you're definitely going back to your room, and that's an order. We can do more of this tomorrow.”
“I want to keep going,” she replied, close to tears. “Please, I have to get out of here!”
“Thank you, Nurse Olona,” a familiar voice said suddenly. “I can take over.”
Turning, Elly saw to her horror that Kirsten Winter was smiling at her. As Nurse Olona headed away, Elly leaned against the wall, determined not to show any weakness.
“Shall I help you back to your room?” Kirsten asked.
“I'm fine.”
“I'll walk with you, then.”
Figuring that she had no choice, Elly steadied herself and then took a faltering, limping step along the corridor. The pain was worse than before and she almost fell, but she managed to take another slow step, then another, as Kirsten walked alongside her.
“It's all so ironic, isn't it?” Kirsten said after a moment. “I must admit, I had no idea you were hating your time here at Middleford Cross so much. I understand Rachel caused you quite a fright last week, I hope that didn't cause you to want to leave us.”
“I got a...” Elly had to hold her breath as she took another step. “I got an offer from another hospital.”
“So you decided to ditch Middleford Cross?”
“It wasn't like that,” Elly replied. “They were offering a proper contract instead of rolling one-month deals. I was going to...” She felt a sharp pain in her ankle, but she held her breath again instead of crying out.
“Are you sure you don't want help?”
“I'm sure,” she said firmly, limping forward. “I was going to give you my notice if I was leaving.”
“It would have been such a shame to have lost you so soon.”
“At least I -”
Suddenly her ankle buckled again. She tried to steady herself, but Kirsten caught her and held her up, before slipping an arm around her to keep her steady.
“I'm fine!” Elly hissed.
“Sure?”
“I'm fine!”
“Okay.” Kirsten began to let go, but she grabbed her again as she felt Elly slipping. “Unless you want to crawl to your room, I think you might have to let me help you. Don't be proud, Elly.” She smiled as she helped her along the corridor. “It's true what they say, doctors and nurses really make the worst patients. It must be very strange for you, being back here at Middleford Cross but on the other side of everything. I want you to know that your job is still open, though, so as soon as you're ready to come back to work, we look forward to welcoming you with open arms.”
Instead of replying, Elly focused on making her way toward her room.
“Where's Doctor Carmichael?” she asked finally.
“Oh, I believe he's -”
“Don't tell me he's busy,” she added, “or that he's away for a while. I want to see him.”
“Doctor Lucas has been filling in -”
“I don't care about Doctor Lucas! Where's Doctor Carmichael?”
“Well...” Sighing, Kirsten helped Elly through the doorway. “I didn't want to break this to you right now, but the truth is, I don't think Jonathan Carmichael will be back on duty any time soon. I can't really say much more than that due to confidentia
lity and privacy rules, but I think you should just forget all about him. I know you spent some time with him, perhaps you felt you were becoming close, so I understand if this news comes as a personal disappointment.”
“He wouldn't leave without saying goodbye.”
“One would have hoped not, but -”
“I want to talk to him,” she continued, reaching the bed and sitting down. Letting out a gasp of relief, she felt the pain starting to ease in her ankle. “I want to make sure he's okay. You must have another number for him, I want to call him.”
“It's very sad whenever someone comes to the Overflow,” Kirsten replied.
Elly turned to her.
“I know about your mother,” Kirsten continued. “I know she's been dead for years, and that you pretend to talk to her on the phone. Are you really that lonely, Elisa? I find it hard to believe that a smart, good-looking young woman such as yourself has no friends, no other family... Is there no-one in your life at all? Is that why you're so desperate to get in touch with Jonathan Carmichael? Are you clinging to the hope that he might be your friend?”
“I'm just worried about him.”
“And I'm worried about you. This isn't healthy. Patients who come here are usually old, or destitute, there's usually some obvious factor that explains why they're alone in the world. But you? No, you seem like a particularly sad case.”
“Thanks,” she muttered.
“I'm trying to help.”
“I don't need your help,” Elly said firmly. “I don't need anyone's help, I just need...” Sighing, she looked around the room for a moment. “I need to get out of here.”
“You can barely walk. Is there really no-one who might want to come and visit you? An ex-lover, perhaps? A distant family member?”
Elly paused, before shaking her head.
“I suppose,” Kirsten continued, “that some people just don't collect friends the way others do. It's not your fault, Elly, you're just different. I sensed something of that when you first arrived.”