by Amy Cross
As he's about to go up to his room, he hears a noise outside. He wanders over to the door and finds that it's slightly open, so he heads out and immediately spots a figure standing over by one of the trees. At first, he assumes it's Nurse Winter, but then his eyes adjust to the gloom and he realizes that it's Nurse Perry. Staying in the shadows, Morris watches as she reaches up into the tree. A crow is sitting on a branch, holding what appears to be a human eye in its mouth. Nurse Perry takes the eye and straightens out the optic nerve before slipping it through the slit in her face where her own eye used to be; she then opens the flap of skin so that she can get the whole eyeball into her socket. She blinks a few times, and now the eye is hers. Turning and walking back towards the main building, she smiles at Morris.
"Good night," she says meekly as she passes him and goes back inside.
"Night," Morris says. He watches her walk up the stairs. Turning back to look at the tree, he watches as the crow flies away, up into the darkening blue sky. One thing about Lakehurst is that every day can bring surprises. Even if he can't quit, he can at least console himself with the fact that he gets to see these things. Things that he'd never believe were possible, if he didn't witness them with his own two eyes.
Part 5:
Life of Horror
Prologue 1
"There's someone out there," says Amanda, staring out the window.
It's just before noon on a lazy Sunday morning, and Nurse Perry is tidying the recreation room. Most of the patients are next door with Dr. Sospiri, having a group therapy session, but Amanda has been excused because she had a one-on-one session straight after breakfast. It's rare for Nurse Perry to be in the recreation room with just one patient, and she's enjoying the peace and quiet. Amanda is one of the least troublesome patients in the whole hospital; she just sits and stares out the window all day.
"Where?" Nurse Perry asks, looking up casually. Outside, the garden and forest are covered in a thick blanket of snow. A series of blizzards have hit the area in recent days, closing all the surrounding roads. To all intents and purposes, Lakehurst is cut off from the outside world. Even the phone lines are down. For some people, this is a cause for concern, but Nurse Perry finds it strangely comforting. The doors are locked, the heating is turned up, and the patients seem fascinated by the continuing snowfall.
"Over there," Amanda says.
Nurse Perry walks over to the window and looks out. She can't see anyone. Undisturbed snow spreads out for half a mile in every direction.
"You don't see him, do you?" Amanda asks, looking up at Nurse Perry.
"But you do," Nurse Perry replies, smiling. "Don't worry. As long as you're -" She stops as something catches her attention in the corner of her eye. Suddenly she sees that Amanda is right - there is someone out there in the snow, stumbling toward the hospital.
"Now you see him," Amanda says, grinning.
"Someone must have got stranded on the road," Nurse Perry says, squinting to try and get a better look at the visitor. "We need to -"
"It's not that," Amanda says. "Can't you see? He's angry."
Nurse Perry leans closer to the window, and sees that Amanda is right. Now that the figure is getting closer, it's clear that something's wrong. Wearing a thick black coat, the man has a rage-filled face that seems to be covered in blood. The way he's running is almost animalistic, as if he's some kind of creature that's come straight out of hell.
"What is he?" Amanda asks, her voice betraying excitement.
"I don't know," Nurse Perry says, stepping over to the door and double-checking that it's locked. The hospital's policy is to keep all doors and windows shut at all times, to ensure that patients can't go wandering out alone. The onus has always been on making sure that no-one can get out; little thought has ever been given to the need to perhaps one day keep something from getting in.
"Amanda," Nurse Perry says, "would you please go and fetch Nurse Winter?"
As the angry figure gets closer, it becomes apparent that he's screaming. He runs straight over to the window, stopping in the snow to shout incoherently.
"What's he saying?" Amanda asks.
"Go and fetch Nurse Winter!" Nurse Perry says, as the angry figure starts banging on the window, trying to get in. The hospital's windows are all reinforced, so there's little chance that they'll break, but it's still disconcerting for Nurse Perry to have such a decrepit, angry-looking man screaming outside.
"Are you going to let him in?" Amanda asks.
"Go and fetch Nurse Winter!" Nurse Perry shouts, and Amanda reluctantly hurries out of the room.
"Who are you?" Nurse Perry calls out nervously, but the angry man just keeps on banging on the window. He clearly wants to be let in, but Nurse Perry has no intention of unlocking the door. The man looks furious, with blood pouring down his face. He looks to be almost inhuman, as if he's been overcome by some kind of demonic power.
"What's going on in here?" Nurse Winter asks, hurrying through with Amanda right behind her.
"I don't know," Nurse Perry says. "He just ran towards us across the snow."
Nurse Winter checks that the door is locked. "Check every door and window," she says, turning to Nurse Perry. "Whoever he is, make sure he can't get in."
At that moment, the angry man turns and runs along the side of the building. Nurse Winter and Nurse Perry hurry out of the recreation room and head though the corridor to the kitchen, where they find that the angry man is trying another door.
"Go and check every door in the building!" Nurse Winter shouts at Nurse Perry. "And find Eddie! Tell him to make sure there's no way this lunatic can get inside."
"We should call the police," Nurse Perry says.
"I'll do it!" Nurse Winter shouts. "Go! Check the doors!"
Nurse Perry runs back into the corridor and goes through to the next room. She checks both the doors in the waiting room before racing over to the dispensary, where she finds a door has been left unlocked. Just as she locks it, the angry man appears outside, raging as he tries to get in. Filled with fear, Nurse Perry goes back out and runs along the corridor, reaching the front door just in time to make sure it's locked.
"What's wrong?" asks Morris, the janitor, as he wanders downstairs.
"Check every window!" Nurse Perry shouts. "There's a madman trying to get in!"
Morris stops and stares at her.
"Do it!" Nurse Perry shouts at him.
"What the hell is going on out here?" asks a voice nearby. Nurse Perry turns to find that Dr. Sospiri has emerged from the therapy room, looking annoyed at the disturbance.
"There's a madman," Nurse Perry says breathlessly, "trying to get into the hospital."
"We're snowed in," Dr. Sospiri says. "There's no way -"
At that moment, the angry man runs up to the front door and slams into the glass. Finding that he still can't break his way in, the man starts kicking at the frame.
"Call security!" Dr. Sospiri says, clearly shocked. "Call the police!"
"The phone lines are down," says Nurse Winter, hurrying through. "He can't get in. I've sent for Eddie and the other guards."
"He looks like an absolute maniac," Dr. Sospiri says. "Under no circumstances can that man be allowed into the building. Do we have any guns?"
The angry man runs along the side of the house. Moments later, there's a scream from the therapy room and terrified patients come running out. Soon the patients are huddling in the corridor. Nurse Perry runs into the room and sees the angry man is trying to break through one of the windows. He's screaming as he tries to break the glass using his shoulder.
"Everyone out!" Nurse Winter shouts. "Go upstairs! Everyone go upstairs!"
The patients start to hurry upstairs, but most of them end up loitering just a few steps up from the ground floor.
Giving up on this window, the angry man runs along the side of the building again. Dr. Sospiri and Nurse Winter hurry through to the next room in an attempt to keep up with him, but they can't find whic
h window he's trying now. They check the next room, then the next, and finally they get back to the recreation room. In the distance, there's the sound of the man screaming.
"Where is he?" Dr. Sospiri asks breathlessly. "Where the hell is he?"
"Eddie!" Nurse Winter says, as the security guards arrive. "Did you see him?"
"I got a glimpse," Eddie says. A big, burly man, Eddie isn't the type to ever allow his fear to show. "I'm going out there," he says.
"You can't risk opening a door," Dr. Sospiri says. "If he gets in -"
"He won't get in," Eddie says, pulling a gun from his holster.
"I thought we agreed that you wouldn't carry firearms here," Dr. Sospiri says angrily. A few months ago, there was a very heated discussion regarding Eddie's desire to carry a weapon.
"I gave him permission," Nurse Winter says. "He's a careful and responsible man. He's a security professional. I'm absolutely certain that he'll perform his role properly, and he'll take care to only discharge his gun when it's absolutely necessary."
"What she said," Eddie adds, smiling at Dr. Sospiri. "Keep away from the windows."
"Let the record show, I don't approve," Dr. Sospiri says.
Eddie and the other two guards hurry along the corridor toward the front door. After a moment, they unlock the door and head outside. Nurse Perry locks the door behind them, and everyone waits. There's silence throughout the building as everyone stands still, listening out for any sign that the angry man has found a way inside. It's a terrifying moment for all of them. They wait for what seems like an eternity, until finally Eddie and the guards return and Nurse Perry lets them in.
"Did you find him?" Dr. Sospiri asks.
Eddie shakes his head, but he looks ashen, as if he's seen a ghost.
"He's gone?" Nurse Perry says. "Are you sure?"
"He's not out there any more," Eddie says. "Every door and every window is locked. There's no way in."
"Then he's gone," Dr. Sospiri says. "Wherever he came from, he's gone back there."
"What's wrong?" Nurse Winter asks, recognizing the look of concern in Eddie's eyes.
Eddie takes a deep breath. "We checked and double-checked," he says. "There are no footprints in the snow leading away. He didn't leave. It's like he just vanished into thin air." He pauses for a moment. "He has to be still here somewhere. Until we find him, I'm putting Lakehurst on lock-down."
Prologue 2
"Daddy's home soon," says the girl's mother. "Get all this stuff tidied away."
The little girl freezes for a moment. Every day, the same thing happens: she plays happily until it's time for him to get back, and then it's time to be scared. She's managed to compartmentalize her emotions, playing freely during the day without worrying about her father. Now, though, it's time to become invisible, unnoticeable. She needs to make sure she doesn't do anything that attracts her father's attention. Hopefully he'll be drunk. It's best when he's drunk. When he's drunk, he just shouts and falls asleep.
When she hears the front door slam shut, the little girl shoves the last of her toys into the cupboard and goes to sit at the dining table. She can hear the sound of pork chops frying in the kitchen. Her father stumbles through, and it's good news: he's been drinking. Barely able to stand, barely even able to focus, he sits on a chair at the other end of the table and just stares at the little girl. The smell of old liquor fills the house.
Dinner is tense. The little girl keeps her eyes on her food, eating slowly. She occasionally glances up at her mother, hoping for some kind of sign that everything is going to be okay; all she sees, however, is the look of taut fear on her mother's face. Finally, once she's finished all her food, the little girl glances up. She sees, with relief, that her father has fallen asleep, his plate still half-full.
"Why don't you go outside and play?" her mother whispers. "Play quietly."
The little girl carries her plate through to the kitchen, followed by her mother. Heading back through to the front room, the little girl pauses next to her sleeping father. She looks at the steak knife on the table next to him. She knows that she could end all of this, just by plunging the knife into the back of her father's head. She also knows that, as a child, she wouldn't be held responsible for her actions. The truth about her father would come out. Everyone would be better off. It would be the right thing to do. But instead of doing it, she just stares at the knife. It's a fantasy. She can't actually go through with it, but it makes her feel good to know that if things get really bad, it's an option.
She goes outside. She knows she has to be quiet, so she goes to the bottom of the garden, as far away from the house as possible. Sitting in the bushes, she doesn't dare to actually play, so she just busies herself by examining the leaves and the grass around her. She tries to imagine what it would be like to have a friend, someone who knows what it's like to be her. Sometimes, not often but sometimes, she's able to pretend that there's a voice in her head, talking to her and telling her that everything's going to be okay some day.
Jerry
Lakehurst. Today.
"Something's wrong," I mutter to myself, carefully lifting the CPU out of the computer casing. Still attached by various wires, the damn thing looks okay, but I know there's something wrong with it. I have a sixth sense for things like this. Every time I turn the computer on, the OS refuses to boot up. I've checked every connection, and I've double-checked the software installation, and finally I've come to the only logical conclusion: something's wrong with the CPU, the brain of the computer. Figuring out the problem, however, won't be the work of a moment, nor should it be. I need to tease this lady open, to work hard, if I'm to discover her secrets. Fortunately, I've got all the time in the world. No-one really ever knows what I get up to down here in the basement. It's like my own private world.
Troubleshooting is the best part of my job. Lakehurst Psychiatric Hospital has all sorts of computers, ranging from old 1970s machines to the latest tablet devices. Somehow, all these machines have to interact and co-exist, but sometimes it feels like the place is just going to explode. How, for example, are you supposed to get an old Dragon computer to do anything at all when you plug it into the network? It sounds crazy, right? I know! It is crazy. But it's part of the challenge, and the challenge is sublime. I can easily lose myself down here in the basement for days, barely eating or drinking or sleeping, and I always manage to come up with an answer in the end. No computer has ever defeated me.
The CPU is the brain. It's the part that processes the stimuli that come in from all the other parts of the machine. I guess that's why I always remember to respect the CPU. Holding it up right now, I treat it as if it's an actual living brain of an actual living person. The computer's soul is in this part of the machine, and I've worked with computers all my life, so trust me, I know the soul of one of these things when I see it. It's beautiful. Frankly, I think the work I perform is just as important as the work of the finest brain surgeons. I deserve way more respect than I get around here.
"What are you doing, Jeremiah?" asks a familiar voice behind me.
Still holding the CPU aloft, I turn to see Nurse Winter standing over by the door. I was so focused on the machine, I didn't hear her come in. That's bad. It's dangerous. One should always know if Nurse Winter is nearby, even if - like a fly trapped on a web and feeling the vibrations of an approaching spider - one is filled with fear when she comes.
"I asked you a question," she says. "What are you doing?"
"Working," I say. I know that won't be enough to satisfy her, but I want to make her work for my answers. I'm not gonna just spew it all out for her. If she wants to know, she has to engage me in conversation.
She walks over to me and stares at the CPU. "I know what you're thinking," she says.
"Yeah?" I reply. "What am I thinking?"
"You're thinking that it's like a brain, held above a body."
I pause for a moment. "Wrong," I say, even though she's right. There's no way I want to give her t
he satisfaction of thinking she was able to get into my head.
"If you say so," she continues. "Have you ever seen a real brain being held like that?"
"This is a real brain," I say obstinately.
"I mean a human brain," she says. "Have you ever seen someone hold up a human brain, with all the nerves and bits and pieces still attached to the main body?"
"No," I say, taking a deep breath.
"Not even in your dreams?" she asks. "Nightmares, that sort of thing?"
"No," I say again. The truth is, I don't dream. I never have. I've heard about dreams, and they sound strange and wonderful, but I've never had one. When I go to sleep, everything just goes dark and then, eventually, I wake up again. It's not very poetic, but it's how things work for me. I guess it's like the way a CPU just goes off when you flick the switch: it doesn't dream, it doesn't carry out random actions. It's either on, or it's off.
"Then I must go back to my original question," Nurse Winter says. "What are you doing, Jeremiah?"
"Working," I say again, "and it's Jerry, not Jeremiah."
"Whoops," she replies, though it sounds like the mistake was calculated from the beginning. "I'm interested in your work, Jerry. I've been thinking lately that I don't spend enough time with you. I've started to realize that you get up to some very unusual activities down here in the basement, and I think I'd like to become more involved. How would that suit you?"
"I work best alone," I say.
"Of course you do," she says. "We all do. But sometimes, we have to strike strategic partnerships if we can't achieve our goals alone."
I grab a magnifying glass and look more closely at part of the CPU. Something's definitely wrong: there are small scratch marks all over the damn thing, though I can't imagine what might have caused the problem. This is going to take some time to work out.