by Amy Cross
"Who are you?" I ask.
"I am who you think I am," he says. "Let us say no more. Names are unnecessary. We must hurry, for there is not much time."
"What can we do?" I say.
"Burn this place," he replies. "We must burn Lakehurst to the ground. We must ensure that every part of it is reduced to cinders. And the people inside, they must die as well. Do you understand?"
"Many of them are innocent," I say.
"None who enter Lakehurst are innocent," the voice continues. "They are all guilty of some crime. That is why I have gathered them all here, so that you will be able to destroy them all at once. Are you a man of faith? Will you do my bidding?"
"Will these poor souls be saved?" I ask, staring at the skulls of the nuns.
"Of course," the voice says. "They are the only ones who deserve to be freed from the influence of Lakehurst. Everyone else must perish."
I take a deep breath. "Okay," I say, feeling a surge of righteousness moving through my body. "You must tell me how to do it."
"Gather the skulls together," the voice says. "The bones can be left, but the skulls must be removed. The skulls must be saved. Everything else at Lakehurst must be incinerated."
I nod. Finally, things are starting to make sense. God truly is working through me, helping me to atone for my sins and giving me a key role in the destruction of this evil place. Nurse Winter, Nurse Perry, all the miserable, horrific patients... They'll all be destroyed, their ungodliness wiped from the face of the planet. My life has long been a series of misfortunes and mistakes, but perhaps everything has been designed to lead me to this point. God wanted me to get to Lakehurst so that he could use me to further his will, to destroy the evil that resides here. My life seemed shapeless for so long, but now I understand what I was sent here to do.
"We will act tonight," the voice tells me. "You can block the gas boilers in the basement. The pressure will build and there will be an explosion. The whole building will be destroyed."
"I'll do it," I say. "It won't be hard."
"Wait until everyone is asleep," he warns me. "I want to make sure that every person at Lakehurst is inside when the explosion takes place. The only person who won't be here is you, because you'll be taking these skulls to the river in order to set them free."
"The river?" I ask.
"The current will carry them far away from here."
"Of course," I say. "And what shall I do once the skulls are free?"
"You will follow them," the voice says, "and I will deliver you to paradise."
"It will be my honor," I say. "I will serve you faithfully. I promise I won't let you down."
"I look forward to seeing Lakehurst finally destroyed," the voice says. "I have suffered for so long, knowing that it remains as a monument to cruelty and inhumanity. Demons have gained a foothold in these corridors, and nothing sacred or pure can survive."
The voice directs me to gather the skulls in a large cloth sack, which I should be able to haul down to the river. I spend the next few hours going about my business as usual, determined to avoid attracting suspicion. I need everyone to think that today is just another normal day at Lakehurst. As the afternoon wears on, I start to become more and more excited about the prospect of carrying out God's wishes. For once, I'll be the hero. I'll be the one who saves the souls of the righteous and condemns the souls of the evil. God will work through me and perhaps, in return, He will grant me some small measure of mercy, such that I might escape the shadow of my past life. Yes, I have done terrible things in the past, but tonight I will redeem myself.
Once the cops let me out, I hurry home. They're onto me, but they don't have enough evidence. I don't know what tipped them off, but I've got to get out of here. I've got to go somewhere else and start again. No more killing, at least not for now. Twenty-six girls I got in the end. That's not bad. Time to retire for a while.
Chapter Seven
By the time night falls, I'm ready to go ahead with my plan. After all these years, after all this time, tonight is the night that my soul will be spared. For too long, I've let my sins hold me back, and I've allowed myself to be consumed by regret. Tonight, God's blessing will wash over me.
I spend a couple of hours down on the ward, fixing broken things and cleaning up spills, and gradually the patients are taken through to bed. It's important to make sure that I appear to be going about my usual business. If people see that I'm nervous, they might start to pay more attention to me, and that would be disastrous. I see Nurse Winter making her final checks for the night before she goes up to bed. She doesn't even look at me as she passes me in the corridor, such is her contempt for me. I watch as she walks away. There's a part of me that still wants to rip her clothes off, to show her what a real man can do to such a woman, but I know that this is my old self talking. I must be stronger and more in control. Earthly desires are to be shrugged off. My actions tonight must remain pure.
Nurse Perry at least says "Good night" as she leaves, but she too has no great interest in a lowly janitor. I have always found Nurse Perry to be a little more pleasant, and a little more aware of the needs of others, but that doesn't mean I'm going to show her any mercy. Everyone here has to die. All the staff, all the patients. Everyone. I can't show weakness. If I were to tip Nurse Perry off about my plans, and try to get her to leave, she'd undoubtedly stop me. Some people will have to be sacrificed for the good of the world. Besides, Nurse Perry has long been an ally of Nurse Winter, helping her carry out her work. Even the innocent have sinned at Lakehurst.
Once the night staff team have arrived and are setting up for their work, I tell them that I'm going to bed. They're too busy gossiping and getting ready for their work, and they barely even notice me. Usually, this kind of rudeness would make me angry, but tonight I'm filled with a kind of expectant happiness. Every injustice, every cruelty, is just further proof that my path is correct. The voice was right when he told me that these people have to die. Lakehurst itself has turned their minds sour and bitter, and only flames will be able to clean away the impurities.
I head for the elevator, but I decide at the last moment that it would be safer to take the stairs. After all, the building itself might try to sabotage my plans. Once I'm down in the basement, I manage to avoid Jerry as I head to the boiler room. Jerry is perhaps the one whose death feels most unnecessary but, again, I know that I can't warn him. While he might be more pleasant than the others, Jerry is still complicit in Nurse Winter's regime. He runs the machines that are used for 'special treatment', and he helps keep the wheels of Lakehurst turning. No, the only truly good-hearted person in this whole miserable place is me, and that's why I'm the person the voice has chosen to perform this task.
Finally, it's time to put the plan into action. I remove a section of pipe from one of the boiler outlets and insert some old clothes, with the aim of causing a blockage that will back up the gas and eventually overwhelm the main chamber. By placing a few other blockages in strategic spots, I'm able to ensure that the usual overflow systems won't work, which means the excess gas will return to the central chamber and will start to be pumped around the pipes that spread through the entire building. Eventually, even this won't be sufficient and the gas will start to leak into the chamber where the flame burns. It's at this point that the entire building will be destroyed as a huge explosion rips through every room. It will make for an astonishing sight, and there'll be no chance for anyone to get out. Most of the building will be blown apart right at the start, and the rest will quickly collapse and burn without giving the inhabitants time to get out. The resulting inferno will be a fitting testament to the extent of God's anger, and I can only hope the demons that live at Lakehurst will be consumed at the same time, sending a strong warning to others who would go against reason.
Once the blockages are in place, I stand back and admire my work. For now, the boiler looks perfectly normal, but already the flows are interrupted. Within a few hours, the blow-back will reach unst
able proportions and finally the whole building will be destroyed in a hellish inferno. Turning toward the door, I find to my surprise that my old friend is back. Shimmering in the low light, the nun stares at me with a benevolent, kind smile.
"You understand?" I say. "This place can't be allowed to survive. You saw what happened to your bones. You -" As I speak, I suddenly feel a strange sensation wash over me. For a moment, I experience a flashback to my old apartment back in Chicago. I'm standing in the kitchen, holding a knife, and there's a dead woman on the floor. Blood pours from a wound in her neck. I blink, and I'm back in the boiler room at Lakehurst. Whatever just happened, it felt incredibly real, but it must be some kind of trick. Lakehurst itself is reaching out to pollute my mind and prevent me from carrying out my plan. I must be strong and resist these visions.
"It'll all be over soon," I say to the nun. "All the evil of this place will be cleansed by the heat. Your bones will be set free and you'll be able to rest. I know you understand. You must. It's the only thing that makes sense."
She continues to stare at me. How I wish she'd speak. If only her beautiful, full red lips would part and she could tell me she understands. Closing my eyes for a moment, I experience another flashback. This time it's the nun, but she's tied up in my old apartment, screaming at me. I open my eyes and feel a cold chill pass through my body. It's as if something is testing my resolve, pushing these terrifying images into my mind in a bid to weaken me. I don't know the true nature of the evil that hides at Lakehurst, but it clearly wants to stop me.
"Did I -" I start to say. "Have we met before?" I pause for a moment. "Long ago, did we -" Memories are starting to flood back. I remember walking with her through the streets of Chicago, leading her to my apartment. "No," I say quietly, forcing the memories to the back of my mind. Lakehurst itself must be planting these false memories in my mind, tricking me, trying to make me believe that there's no hope.
"You'll see," I say, pushing past her and hurrying back toward the elevator. I just have to get out of here and carry out the plan, and make sure that I'm not distracted. She'll understand. They'll all understand. When they see Lakehurst burning, they'll realize that I was right all along. I'm a good man. I could never hurt a beautiful woman. I could never hurt a woman of God. I could never -
"Yo, Morris," says a voice nearby as I approach the elevator. I turn to find Jerry smiling at me. He's got a pile of old computer parts in his arms. "What are you doing down here?"
"I -" I start to say, but then I pause for a moment. "I'm checking things," I continue eventually, which is a rather poor lie but one that perhaps will suffice. "I was checking the system."
"Me too," he replies. "Checking the computer system."
"I was checking the boiler," I say, trying not to panic. I know Jerry would never start poking around with the boiler, but it still feels wrong that he's down here at all. Why can't he just leave the basement for once? I can't afford any slip-ups, not now. Everything has to be perfect.
"Cool," he replies, but I can tell from the way he's looking at me that he thinks something's wrong. Can he read my mind? With all these machines down here, has this bastard found a way to get into the thoughts of other people? Worse, perhaps the building itself has given him this ability. He might ruin everything.
"What are you doing tonight?" I ask cautiously.
"Working," he says. "As usual. But it's a private project this time, you know? Stuff for myself."
I pause for a moment. "You going to be up late?" I ask. Having Jerry wandering around in the basement while the boiler's flooding with gas would be a problem. He's just about smart enough to figure something's wrong. Even if he can't fix it, he might be able to get people out before the explosion.
He shrugs. "Not sure, man. Not sure." With that, he turns and carries his equipment through to the main part of the basement. "Night, Morris," he calls back to me.
I take a deep breath, trying to work out what to do. For a moment, it occurs to me that I could just get out of here and trust in God that everything will be fine, but I know in my heart that I can't leave anything to chance. Realizing what I have to do, I follow Jerry through to the lab. I take the hammer from my tool-belt and I quickly catch up to Jerry. He's just starting to turn around as I smash the hammer down on his head, crushing a hole in the back of his skull. He drops to his knees, forcing me to let go of the hammer as part of the top is embedded in his bone. As blood pours from the wound, I rip the hammer out and smash it down again, this time shattering the top of his head. Blood flows freely and I can see his brain. I raise the hammer above my head. This is necessary. I have to do this in order to ensure that my plan to destroy Lakehurst isn't interrupted. As Jerry slowly turns to look at me, the pupils of his eyes distended, I smash the hammer down one more time, embedding it deep in his brain and spattering blood across the floor. His body falls to the ground, and finally he's dead.
In the distance, I hear the boiler start to rumble. Not long now. I have to get out of here. Turning and running to the elevator door, I start to panic as I realize my calculations might have been a little off. The boiler could explode at any moment. Once I'm up on the ward, I hurry through to the back yard and grab the bag of skulls. Dragging them out through the back entrance, I start the long journey toward the river.
It takes me a few minutes to get down into the forest, and a little while longer to get closer to the water's edge. As I start to feel my body getting tired, there's a massive boom in the distance, shaking the ground almost like an earthquake. I turn in time to see a huge fireball rise into the night sky a few hundred meters away. That's it. Job done. Lakehurst Psychiatric Hospital is gone. The boiler has exploded and the whole building has been torn apart, hopefully killing as many of its occupants as possible. I've done exactly what was asked of me. I squint, trying to make out some kind of shape in the flames, and for a moment I imagine I can see part of the front of the building starting to collapse. Inside, the patients will all be screaming as they die; the ones who didn't die instantly will be locked in their rooms for the night, unable to escape as they're overwhelmed by smoke and flames. Nurse Winter herself will be burning up, the skin melting from her bones as she desperately tries to escape. All in vain. It's over, all of it.
Epilogue
"Morris Dencourt," says Alex, walking into my office and slapping a file down onto my desk. "Name ring any bells?"
I stare at the file. It looks old and faded, so it's probably from before my time. Hell, the fact that it's printed on paper rather than filed on the computer means it must be from at least pre-1990. I shrug, wondering why Alex has bothered to interrupt me right now. He must realize I'm swamped with paperwork. The last thing I need is to start going over old cases.
"I can see by the gormless look on your face that it doesn't," Alex says, "so I'll fill you in. Morris Dencourt's body was found recently in the Attomax River. He'd been there for some time. Cause of death was drowning, most likely, though we're still waiting for the final autopsy results."
I take the file and open it. "And who exactly was Morris Dencourt?" I ask as I scan the pages.
"He was the janitor at Lakehurst Psychiatric Hospital."
I pause for a moment, looking up at him. "Is that right?" I ask. Okay, suddenly I'm interested. Lakehurst burned down a few weeks ago, killing nearly a hundred people. The whole place is just a pile of charred timber now, awaiting final demolition. The explosion has been put down to a failure in the gas system, although there are those who believe there might be more to what happened. For as long as I can remember, there have been stories about Lakehurst. Some people even believed that the place was cursed, and that strange things happened up there. Obviously that's rubbish, but the place still seems to have exercised the imaginations of a lot of people. Despite the many deaths, some people were actually relieved when Lakehurst went up in flames.
"Don't you think it's odd," Alex continues, "that the janitor, the one guy who'd know more about the boiler at that pla
ce, would suddenly turn up dead in a river?"
"Sure," I reply, "but odd things happen all the time. Doesn't mean there's anything suspicious going on. Maybe he stumbled out of the building with terrible burns and tried to cool himself off in the river?"
"Maybe, but so far it doesn't look like he was burned at all, and preliminary results suggest there was no smoke in his lungs."
"Still doesn't mean he was responsible," I reply. "You need solid evidence if you're gonna start throwing accusations around."
"Couldn't agree more," Alex says, "but there is more, actually. It turns out that Morris Dencourt was a very interesting man. You ever heard of the Denverdale murders?"
"Vaguely," I reply.
"Twenty-six women, abducted and murdered over a forty year period," he says. "All from the Chicago area. Their bodies were never found, but Morris Dencourt was known to have large supplies of all the chemicals required to make some pretty strong acids. Local PD eventually fingered Morris for the deaths. They had a motive, they had opportunity, but they couldn't pin it on him. The guy was slippery and there was never enough evidence to take it to trial. Still, every cop involved in that case was convinced that this Dencourt guy was the killer. Best I can see, it looks like the bastard was fucked up on some kind of anti-woman thing. Seriously, take a look at the report. Read about what the bastard did to his victims, and then tell me you don't feel sick."
"Morris Dencourt killed those women?" I ask.
"It's highly likely," Alex replies. "Like I said, they couldn't get enough evidence to go for a prosecution, but everyone involved with the case believed Morris was guilty. By the time they'd persuaded their superiors to order a fuller investigation into Morris's background, the guy had done a runner. He vanished off the face of the planet. That was twenty years ago. God knows what happened in-between, but at some point he rocked up at Lakehurst and became their janitor."