Highland Cove

by Dylan J. Morgan

  The large doors to the main operating theatre were closed, and he was almost certain they’d been open when they’d left there earlier.

  Slowing his stride, Codie took a careful step towards the doors, keeping his torch trained on the handles. His heart crashed a heavy rhythm, breath escaping his mouth in clouds of condensation. The hairs prickled on his arms and he was certain it had little to do with the cold.

  “The doors,” Kristen whispered. “They weren’t closed earlier.”

  So it wasn’t just my imagination, then.

  He stopped at the barrier and held his breath, tried to dampen the sound of his frantic heartbeat. The only noise breaking the silence was the wind howling against the building’s eaves, and a dying growl of thunder. He placed his hand on one of the doors. Behind him, Kristen sucked in a nervous breath. If he remembered correctly the doors opened inward. Had Liam escaped into the room beyond and shut the entrance to keep something out? Perhaps he’d not gone in there at all, but something else had, and the doors were closed to lock something within. Lifting the flashlight to the rectangle window in the nearest door he only saw empty darkness within.

  Codie’s light flickered and dimmed, the battery failing inside the torch. He shook it, got some life into the beam, but feared it wouldn’t last much longer. There was still his phone for light if he required it, but the flashlight app didn’t amount to much.

  He knew what would happen even before he applied pressure.

  Codie pushed on the door. It barely opened before connecting against an obstruction. Someone was inside, and they didn’t want company.

  He leaned forward, pressed his ear to the minimal gap. Closing his eyes, holding his breath again, he concentrated. Cold air filtered from within, accompanied by the whisper of wind against the room’s windows.

  And, unmistakable in the darkness, he heard the rustle of shuffled footsteps on the tiled surgery floor.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Obscurity dissipated, replaced by strobing flashes of light. It didn’t last long before blackness returned. The flicker of illumination remained in his vision, replaying across his retina.

  His eyelids flickered yet remained closed. It felt more relaxing to keep them that way. Because in the darkness he sat next to the most beautiful young man he’d ever seen: a being sculpted to perfection on the outside, with the most unspoiled soul he’d ever had the pleasure of knowing. Outside of the main school building, they sat on concrete steps leading to the changing rooms. They leaned against each other, their shoulders touching as they shared a joke, the punchline lost to him in the pure joy of being in this man’s presence. He threw his head back with laughter, the timbre of his humour the only sound worth hearing. When he moved, the aroma of his cologne filled the air, lacing the breeze with the most tantalizing scent in existence. Hooking fingers into the pocket of his denim jacket he pulled out a packet of gum, each movement a flawless synchronization of sinew and muscle. The proffered gum would always be accepted—would always be taken from the packet with an innocent touch of skin eliciting a flash of sexual tension.

  Light flashed once more in the darkness, followed by a violent crack of thunder.

  His eyelids finally snapped open and Liam groaned with despair as the memory evaporated.

  Blinking, he tried to focus on his surroundings but a blanket of night draped almost everything. His gaze pulled towards a place above him where the mass of a pre-dawn storm churned beyond a row of thin slit windows. The aggressive patter of rain on glass invaded the room, a wind howling like the snarl of a predatory beast. He lay on his back, the surface beneath him solid and uncomfortable. Grogginess layered his mind and slowed his thought process, a headache thumping through his wooziness. Liam closed his eyes, hoping to drift away into the dream world on the school steps, but pain held him awake.

  Muscles weary and almost unresponsive, he raised his hand to rub the ache in his skull. His arm caught fast and remained by his side. Liam tried again, got the same result; forced his mind to lift his other arm but found the limb also secured near his body. Anxiety spiralled in an ever-increasing circle through his emotions, pulling at his survival instinct. Moving his shoulders like a man trapped in the depths of sleep, he tried to lift his head and examine his arms. Something heavy, like leather strapping, crossed his brow and held him in place. Debilitating confusion crumbled slowly from his thoughts, replaced by increasing fear. Making a feeble attempt to move his legs he barely shifted his limbs before something snagged tight around his ankles.

  Nausea slathered up his gullet and if he vomited now he feared he’d choke to death. Liam hauled in a deep breath to control his anxiety, searched his mind for some sliver of a memory. Nothing came to him immediately, only the beautiful image of a shared joke with the man he loved. And he wasn’t even certain if that was a memory or just an ardent wish. At least he remembered Codie, and he focused on the man; his smiling face and mannerisms, the way he doted on Kristen with as much dedication as Liam wished he’d dote on him. Kristen—the memory of her face jolted him with a surge of jealousy. Her image stayed with him longer than usual, a recollection of her standing in an expansive room; a lobby, filled with shards of broken stone and crumbled masonry.

  The asylum!

  They’d been together, all of them, in the abandoned mental asylum on a remote island. The fog of whatever sleep he’d been under melted, dripping in lethargic coils from his mind. He pictured an empty wheelchair in a corridor, turning in small circles in the dirt, while the spectral outlines of children played innocent games in the darkness. He remembered footsteps in the night, a cold wrapping him tight, and a violent force ripping him backwards.

  Liam moved his arms and nothing happened. He kicked both legs, yet they barely moved. Wriggling, shaking all his limbs, Liam tried to find some give in the bonds that held him, but his struggles only sapped his strength.

  A noise split the darkness, somewhere beneath the windows. He ceased his struggles and listened, hearing only the hammer of a relentless rainstorm and his exhausted breath. As he looked in the sound’s direction, the dull light of the heavens in turmoil didn’t illuminate much, save for the dim outline of the windows. This place had to be the asylum; perhaps the noise had been nothing more than a rodent scratching through the debris in search of sustenance. Dragging in a deep breath, Liam lay motionless and willed the confusion and daze to disperse. It left him slowly and he evaluated his position. He lay in a dark, spacious room; a hard elevated surface beneath his back. With his stupor fading, he saw a metal table in the centre of a large room with hefty overhead lights that he suspected hadn’t been used in over sixty years.

  The operating room!

  A sharp click exploded light throughout the room. Wishing he could raise a hand to shield the glare, Liam squinted into the burning light. A second click, and another light burst to life, bathing the room with greater luminescence. As his pupils dilated, adjusting to the glare, he glanced towards the windows, the storm beyond now lost behind a vibrant glow. A headache pulsed through his grogginess, the intense light only feeding the pain. Liam gasped as a third light came to life.

  A sound again: feet shuffling and the clatter of metal against metal. He saw no movement, yet something lingered beyond the glare. More clanging of metal and this time he heard soft spoken words against the raging clamour of the storm. When a fourth lamp sprang to life, he wondered how the lights functioned when the building no longer received an electrical supply. A horrifying image filtered into his mind of a mad scientist using the storm’s electrical energy to power the lamps while conducting macabre experiments.

  The voice came once more, mumbled, as though whoever spoke were uttering commands to themselves, the words foreign.

  Someone moved in the lamp’s peripheral glow, a figure shuffling in the darkness. Liam called out, his voice cracking over his arid tongue, and he wasn’t sure he’d even made a sound. The shape in the shadows stepped closer to the light’s edge, strong words vocalized
with authority.

  Fear spiralled into the pit of Liam’s gut, twisting through his bowels. He tugged against his bonds yet they didn’t move, kept him secured to the operating table. Its steel legs rattled under his struggles, yet the table remained unmoving, adding to his terror. Never before had Liam encountered a spirit revealing itself in human form, he’d only seen spots of dim light, or the darkened outline of a shadow captured in infrared night vision. Yet when the figure spoke with anger, foreign words mocking him through the darkness, Liam knew this was a manifestation unlike any other.

  The ghost of the demented professor shuffled into the ring of light and leaned forward to inspect his new patient.

  When shadow dispersed from the face’s sunken contours and Liam saw what the figure held in one hand, a storm of terror exploded inside him.

  ~~

  Fear: pure and uninhibited, unforgiving in its touch; the most beautiful of emotions. It came in many guises, from a subtle shake to intense palpitations that made one think their heart would rupture. Of all man’s emotions it was the most raw, and the one he loved the most. His patient shook with it, dread oozing from him like a veil of cloying perfume. Locked in the urge to flee, his subject fought against bonds that wouldn’t relent and it escalated the fear further. Breathing deeply, he savoured the aroma, and a satisfied smile grew across his lips.

  “Hello, Liam, I bet you didn’t expect to see me, did you?”

  “Alex?”

  Liam’s voice came as a cracked whisper, a delightful combination of the Rohypnol in his system and overwhelming panic. His drug-addled mind obviously tried to work things out, attempting to make sense of this crazy situation. But recognition had passed over his eyes and that was a good thing. Alex wanted his patient to know his surgeon, because it was vital to have a level of trust between the two of them if things were to go according to plan. The drug was wearing off slowly, and he needed his patient to remain reasonably sedated. He’d be going through a very harrowing ordeal in a short space of time, so his movements needed to be restricted, both by the bonds securing his body and the Rohypnol in his blood.

  Lightning flared outside, scattering darkness and providing extra light to the room. It dispersed the shadows from Liam’s face and highlighted his fear in all its glorious beauty. If only the artificial lighting would amplify his terror so well.

  The battery driven halogen lamps that he’d hidden in his personal bag weren’t ideal, but they gave him enough light for what he needed to do. The only trouble with them was that they drained their supply quickly and might flicker out before he’d completed the procedure. Still, the surgery was relatively straightforward, so he doubted he’d be plunged into darkness before achieving his goal. He’d set the lights on counters at angles so that he could work and always have illumination from at least one of them. Dense shadows crowded into the room’s furthest corners, like nocturnal beasts sensitive to the light.

  Anticipation almost overcame him; he’d been looking forward to this moment all night. He’d studied the notes from the safe, knew what he needed to do, but as this was his first surgery the test subject could succumb. Still, he’d take the chance in order to forward his family’s research.

  “What are you doing?” Liam mumbled.

  Ah, here comes the question. He’d been expecting this one.

  “I thought that was blatantly obvious, Liam. I’m going to give you a lobotomy.”

  A new level of horror shifted Liam’s expression, and Alex imagined how acute the fear ripping through him would be. To feel such terror, such unbridled distress, must really make someone feel truly alive. He couldn’t help but smile.

  “I’m sure you’ve seen these before,” Alex said, holding up the instruments in his hands. Liam’s gaze lowered quickly to the tools, his breath coming in wheezing gasps. Alex raised his left hand. “But just in case you haven’t—this is an orbitoclast, kind of like an ice pick of sorts, and this pointed end is what will enter your brain and cut your nerve endings.” He lifted his other hand. “Obviously, this is the mallet; a hammer, and I’ll use this to drive the orbitoclast through your eye socket.”

  Liam wrestled against his bonds, his movements more energetic than only a short moment ago. He was regaining his strength, the drug diluting, and a sense of urgency swelled inside Alex. The procedure would be awkward to perform if his patient wouldn’t lie still. Behind him, in the darkness, the door scraped over dirt on the floor. It connected with the debris-laden cupboards he’d stacked haphazardly in front of the doors. A disused vial clattered upon a shelf inside a cupboard.

  So, they’re here.

  It’d taken them longer to make their way to the third floor than he’d thought, but that didn’t matter. They’d followed the clues and he’d gotten them here regardless. He only hoped the barricade would hold them long enough to complete this test procedure.

  With weight applied to the door, it opened once more and crashed into the cupboards. Liam’s eyes flickered, searching the darkness beyond the lights for the source of the noise. Alex stepped into his line of sight.

  “I’m quite excited about this. Are you excited, Liam?”

  He looked up, eyes ablaze with terror. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Why?” Alex said. “Because you have some very impure thoughts in your head. It’s disgusting, unnatural, and I need to neutralize the way your filthy mind works.”

  “What?”

  “I know what you think, who you think about. It’s not right, and things like that need to be addressed.”

  Liam had no reply. He lay there, secured by the straps, chest heaving under laboured breaths. Alex assumed his most comforting smile before stepping away from the table. He moved swiftly to a bench in the darkness and grabbed a handful of the documents he’d been reading while lying awake on the bench earlier in the lobby.

  He held them up to the light for Liam to see, but his gaze was focused elsewhere: on the hammer and pick in Alex’s hand.

  “Don’t worry, Liam. I’ve got notes here: a step-by-step guide written in the hand of my grandfather.”

  “Grandfather?”

  The lights draped Alex’s shadow around the room, making him appear large, a man of importance—which he would be, eventually, just like his grandfather should have been. Professor Bukoski’s death prevented him from reaching the heights that his experiments would have allowed him, but Alex would do his memory proud. Alex assumed that the information was sinking into Liam’s mind too slowly, but he forgave him for that. The drug exhausted the mind and some confusion was to be expected. He placed the documents back onto the counter, and retrieved a roll of surgical tape.

  The door rattled against the cupboards again, and muffled voices echoed from the hall. Liam glanced into the darkness, his head stationary, eyes moving towards the sound. Opening his mouth he tried to call out, but the plea for assistance emerged as a fatigued whimper.

  Alex placed himself in Liam’s vision once more. He laid the orbitoclast and its mallet carefully on Liam’s chest, making sure his patient could see the instruments clearly. With calm assuredness, Alex peeled a narrow strip of surgical tape from the roll.

  “Keep still,” he said to Liam. “I don’t want you blinking during the procedure.”

  He pulled down on Liam’s bottom eyelid and taped it to his cheek. Removing a second strip of tape, he fastened Liam’s upper eyelid to his brow. Accompanied by yet another bang of the door, he taped the other eye open.

  Standing back and grabbing the lobotomy tools from Liam’s body, he admired his handiwork.

  “Don’t do this, Alex,” Liam whispered.

  He barely heard the words, ignored them as if he hadn’t.

  “Sorry,” Alex said, “no anaesthesia, unfortunately, I don’t have all the tools. I could knock you out, I guess, but then,” he shrugged, “where’s the fun in that?”

  Ignoring the futile attempts from Liam to turn his head away, Alex lowered the orbitoclast and placed it onto his patient
’s exposed eyeball. Liam flinched, gasping, and almost in response, the surgery door rattled on its hinges once more. How’s a guy supposed to work with all this distraction? With a shake of his head, Alex leaned closer and gripped the pick securely. He didn’t want his hold to slip at this delicate stage, it might cause him to enter at the wrong angle and botch the surgery. Liam was expendable, of course, but he didn’t have many other subjects to try this procedure on.

  Poised and ready, Alex looked up with a smile. “You might want to relax and lie still; because this may hurt a tad.”

  With one swift blow he brought the mallet down onto the orbitoclast’s head, and the tool’s point cracked into Liam’s eye socket.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  A cry of agony split the darkness, shrieking through the gap in the double doors to send a shiver of terror coursing over Codie’s flesh. He hesitated, struck numb for a moment by the scream’s ferocity. Recognition swamped him almost immediately; he’d never heard Liam scream before, but couldn’t mistake the voice of his lifelong friend.

  Looking up, he pressed his eye to the slender gap, gazing through a pit of darkness. The furthest reaches of the operating room were bathed in a bright luminescence; although from this position he couldn’t see where the light came from. Shadows danced over the far wall, swirling around a hunched silhouette appearing grotesquely disfigured under the angle of thrown light. The figure raised its hand, the outline of a hammer in its grasp. The arm came down swiftly. A metallic crack echoed in the confined room, and Liam screamed again.