Chapter 2

 Chapter 2: Escape 

 

I looked around at the other patients who all seemed to be sleeping soundly.  When I was confident no one saw me, I slipped the large ruby under my cot.  It made for a very conspicuous lump.  There wasn't really a good place to hide anything here.  I grimaced and did my best to rest on the now lumpy bed before the wakeup call.  I didn't have to wait long.  The orderlies assigned to the unit did their daily wakeup call and I was off to the bathroom to do the usual hygiene ritual.  I couldn't stop thinking about the treasure that was under my cot.  It consumed me. 

It was during breakfast that I started to feel better.  I felt lighter than usual.  Like I had a reason to live, or a purpose.  I ate the disgusting flavorless oatmeal with a smile on my face.  One of the other patients, Clarence, seemed to have noticed my improved demeanor.  After a brief moment Clarence noted, “You're looking a bit brighter eyed than usual.”  I nodded happily as I pushed the vile oatmeal down my throat.  After swallowing a mouthful, I turned to him and replied, “medications must be working out.”  He shot me back a puzzled expression and queried, “Oh yeah? What do they have you on?” My face that told him I didn't want to discuss it, and he got the message. 

There was a small window of time after breakfast, where I intended to go back to my bed and check on the ruby.  What I discovered there took the wind out of my sails.  It was two orderlies arguing in tones that they intended to be hushed.  The cot was overturned, yet the ruby remained where I had placed it.  “I don't get it!” one of the orderlies cried in a suppressed yell.  The other orderly stood over the ruby and with the look of a guy in a strong man competition who strained his muscles before heavy lifting.  He tried to lift the ruby, unsuccessfully.  I almost choked with laughter.  These two muscle men couldn't lift the damn thing.  The tale of The Sword in the Stone was quickly turning into the tale of The Ruby on the Cot. 

“Alright Zeke, we try lifting this thing together on three,” said the one on the left, and Zeke nodded in approval.  “One, two, three!” The two orderlies in desperate futility, tried hoisting the ruby in unison, while the veins on their rippling muscles throbbed and pulsed.  I could see the beads of sweat starting to form on their strained brows.  Inconceivable!  After several moments of more whispering, they threw the mattress back on the cot and started toward the door.  I made a quick B line down the hallway into one of the rec rooms.  I calmly zipped over to a vacant chair next to Clarence. A mixture of relief and amusement washed over me.  Clarence, who became a bit more interested in my mood since the day started, glanced hard at me but said nothing.     

We were let outside for our usual, “amble around the grounds like aimless zombies” festival.  I found myself humming the tune of the tunnel creatures unconsciously.  Clarence, clearly fed up with the mystery, approached me again.  “My man, you don't have to tell me what you're going through, but I still want to say something.”  I did not have the faintest idea what he wanted to tell me, but I felt compelled to listen.  He licked his lips before announcing his findings.  “God told me that you got a way outta this dump.  He told me that you got something, some, way out of here.” I was mystified that he knew about the ruby.  He then began explaining his story. 

“Listen, I wasn't supposed to be put here.  I was going fishing off a bridge a few blocks from my spot and I tripped and fell off a bridge.  I went right through the wooden railing on the bridge and fell about thirty feet down.  I hit my head on the way down or something.  The cops found me half-conscious on the riverbank.  They took me to the station and told some judge it was a suicide attempt.”  Listening to Clarence's story brought back notions of the unfair nature of criminal justice in our nation.  I ran my hands through my hair in frustration.  It was obvious from his story and the manner in which he spoke, that the system just wanted to throw away another young black man. 

I wasn't sure how I would do it, or what the game plan was, but I assured Clarence that when the time was right, he could follow me to freedom.  While chatting with Clarence, I noticed that Laurie was watching us with more than a passing interest.  “If we move, Clarence, it might need to be sooner than later.” I concluded with grim determination.  “That is the time frame I prefer,” Clarence added with an approving nod.  We were corralled inside for arts and crafts time.  That was where I drew my line in the sand. 

I darted to the room that held all of the bunks in a large semi-circle and went right for the mattress.  I turned over the mattress, grabbed my treasure and held the warm ruby in my hand. The ruby responded by flickering and glowing pleasantly.  Almost on cue, Zeke and the other orderly (Troglodyte Grumpkin?) appeared in the room, blocking the exit.  “Well, well, what do we have here?” Zeke asked in a smug tone.  “That looks like contraband to me, Zeke,” Troglodyte chimed in with a condescending smile.  “Sounds right Gus.”  Oh, I guess his name was Gus.   

I stood paralyzed in fear, with the ruby gripped tightly in my hand, as the dynamic duo burst into action armed with the deadliest weapon of all – a drug filled syringe.  I winced in fear as they closed in on me.  My eyes involuntarily shut in anticipation.  I waited a second to feel the familiar prick but felt nothing at all.  I opened my eyes back to see the pair of orderlies white as ghosts and a syringe comically bent into an accordion shape which dropped to the floor.   Zeke seemed to regain his composure and did what he thought he was best at.  He cocked his fist back and unleashed what would have been a dominating right hook to my face.  This time I didn't feel compelled to turn away or shut my eyes. 

I could feel the blow connect with my right cheek, but it didn't hurt at all.  It felt almost as if a declawed kitten had batted my face.  I giggled slightly, but Zeke's reaction brought me to tears with laughter.  His hand was smashed with knuckle bones shattered and blood flowing freely down it.  He howled in pain screaming for help.  Gus, being a compassionate friend, did what compassionate friends do: casually turned his back and walked away.  Mumbling something that sounded like “screw this.”  When the last of the laughter emptied from my belly, I stepped over the doubled over body of Zeke, who was crying in agony.  I noticed that the ruby was vibrating.  It was somehow contented by the pain it had caused.  That stole my mirth pretty quickly. 

I had a promise to keep, and I was pretty damn sick of this place.  I confidently strode over to the arts and crafts room and signaled to Clarence through the window.  He walked up to the door, while I heard him tell the instructor that he had to use the bathroom.  She glared out the window and saw my face.  I expect that we would encounter a platoon of enforcers on the way out.  With the ruby in my hand, I knew they couldn't stop me. 

Clarence exited the room and gave me a hopeful look.  We both knew it was time.  We started to head down the long corridor toward the metal door leading to the emergency exit stairwell.  On the way there, three large orderlies stepped between us and our destination.  For the first time in my life, I felt powerful, and in control of a situation.  I looked at the largest one in the center and calmly uttered, “Me and my associate here are leaving this God-forsaken hole.  If any of you try to stop me-” I was rudely cut off by one of the orderlies.  “Just calm down Johnny, we don't want to have to hurt you.” 

I waved my hand holding the ruby dismissively at him and was astounded by the reaction.  The trio of orderlies were flung across the hallway at breakneck speed.  I could hear the sickening sound of bone crunching as they were flung into walls with a tremendous force.  Clarence and I both winced at the sound in unison but wasted no time in making our escape.  We darted down the hallway seeking to avoid further confrontation.  The gem hummed and purred with excitement in my hand.   

The sounds of the orderlies’ groans of agony were drowned out by a harried voice yelling from behind us.  “Hey, guys, wait for me!”  It was Laurie, who looked absolutely starved for excitement, and hit the jackpot with us.  I let out a disappointed groan and Clarence gave a brief but memorable facepalm.  “Hey, uh, Laurie.”  I tried to find the right words.  “This might not be the safest adventure for you, and I don't want to damage your treatment plan.”  She glared at me and hissed.  “Can it! I am coming with you.”  I shrugged in a helpless manner, then the three of use made our way to the exit door.   

Without much of a better plan, I gave the door what I thought would be a modest kick.  KA-RASH!  The solid metal door burst off its hinges and embedded itself several inches into the cement wall of the stairwell.  “I guess that worked,” I pointed out as modestly as possible, while holding back a chuckle.  The sound of more orderlies shouting and running toward us was the response I got.  Not to mention a screeching alarm that was now blaring all over the hospital.  Our newly formed triad made all haste running down the stairs. 

We got to the ground floor and were met by another heavy security door.  I tried my best to do what looked like a well-prepared Kung Fu style kick.  I admit, I looked stupid as hell.  That made little difference, when the effect was the same, the door flew off its hinges and crashed right through the other set of doors waiting for us.  We could hear the orderlies descending down the stairs with cries of “Stop them!”  We exited the facility into the light of day. 

All that was left was the fence.  I simply trampled over it while my companions followed me.  I could hear the alarms were blaring outside.  Outside the facility there was an open field which emptied into woodlands in all directions save for the main entrance.  I decided the best course of action was to lead us into the woods, where we could shake them.  Part of me wanted to go back and smash every last person chasing us for a cleaner get away.  Part of me wanted to leave the dead weight (Laurie and Clarence) behind me.  Damn the humanitarian in me.  Damn him to hell. 

As we ran, I noticed in my periphery that the orderlies were loading into a golf cart for a game of roundup.  We were running at full sprint.  I half expected to be running a hundred miles an hour with the gem in my hand but, alas, no.  We maintained a brisk pace, but the hum of the electric powered golf cart told me that escape alone wouldn't get us far.  Instinctively, I turned in the direction of the golf cart quickly gaining on us, and I punched the ground toward the direction it was approaching.  Laurie and Clarence both stopped in stunned silence by what they saw. 

The sod, dirt, and rocks underneath the ground were all ripped apart by the rippling shock wave of my punch, which generated such a force that it pushed its way into the oncoming cart.  The cart was thrown several feet in the air and dumped its passengers out at high speed.  Rock, dirt, debris, and chunks of broken golf cart rained down on the already injured and bewildered security forces.  Almost a minute of more sprinting brought us to the edge of the forest.  

“I have no idea where the hell we are folks, but let's stick together so no one gets lost.”  I felt this surge of empowerment as I took on a leadership role.  The others agreed, but I immediately felt small again when I realized that I was just stating the obvious.  We crept through the woods for nearly an hour, trying to zig-zag around and hide our direction from any pursuers.  The sounds of the commotion and alarm at the institution were now completely out of ear shot. Only the serene sounds of wildlife filled our ears.   

We sat on an old collapsed tree before anyone spoke.  “You didn't happen to grab any food, did you?” Clarence asked. “Uh, well, I thought leaving with the element of surprise would be best, and I didn't have any time to-?”  I stammered feeling smaller than before.  “Actually, think this plan through,” Laurie scolded, sensing a moment of weakness since the escape.  Clarence didn't share her irritation, but the concern was equally disconcerting.  I could feel the ruby in my hand eager to dispense more comic book style justice, yet I managed to sequester it.  Maybe it wasn't the gem itself trying to coax me, but my own feelings, that it was feeding off. 

I did my best to explain the phenomenon of the ruby.  How I acquired it in a dream.  How the orderlies had discovered it but couldn't pick it up.  How it was only a matter of time before the hospital staff put 3 floors between me and it.  To be fair, I hadn’t thought of this at the time we left, but it seemed like a good way to take Laurie down a peg.  We put The Ruby on the Cot theory to the test.  Like the previous attempts of the orderlies, neither Clarence nor Laurie could cause it to budge in the slightest.  That was the first time I put the ruby down since I removed it from my bed.  I felt naked without it. Scooping it up alleviated that sensation immediately. 

After our brief conversation concluded, we set out to put more ground between us and our captors.  The journey was long, tiring, and filled with countless insect bites.  Did I mention that the hospital staff didn’t bother bringing us out real shoes?  We were walking around in hospital slippers, and it sucks virtually every step of the way.  At least it wasn’t painful.   In fact, with the ruby in hand, I could hear the snap and pop of pebbles bursting under my slippers.  It was perversely gratifying. 

We did spot some interesting wildlife on our adventure.  We saw some deer, a badger, numerous squirrels, frogs, snakes, and a few other assorted oddities.  While the others were foraging for berries, I saw what looked like a crow with a bleeding anus for a face.  When I told the others about it, they didn’t believe me.  It didn’t seem like a good omen before making camp for the night.   

Clarence must have been a survival expert or something, because he knew exactly how to build shelter and start a fire without matches.  Laurie and I were on firewood detail.  While hunting for kindling Laurie asked me with genuine interest, “Do you think Clarence likes me?”  I wasn’t sure how to respond as I had virtually no skill at determining such things.  “Well, do you like him?”  I responded innocently.  She must have found this riotously funny, as she burst out laughing, and finally replied, “Don’t answer a question with a question.”   

I gave a resigned shrug and offered the best thing I could muster. “Probably.”  That was about all we could say to one another before we got back to camp.  Clarence built a reasonably impressive lean-to given the circumstances and time frame.  He also dug out a small fire pit and an impressive display of lighting a fire I would have only believed happened in the movie Castaway. 

Clarence offered us some of the dew that had collected from the various plants in the woods to go with the berries.  He squeezed about an ounce and a half of water into each of our mouths from his ripped off sleeve. I was suddenly very impressed with Clarence.  If it was me alone, I would be dead from dehydration.  Maybe falling into a ravine, afflicted with ruby induced hubris.  I suddenly admonished myself for thinking of Clarence as dead weight, even for a second.  The jury was still out on Laurie.   

The warmth of the fire was comforting, and the orange glow gave Clarence the appearance of a shaman when he spoke.  “I am not sure how far we are off from the nearest town.  The most important commodity we can carry is water.  When the dew settles tomorrow morning, we will need to collect more of it.  As for tonight, we need to huddle together for warmth.  These hospital scrubs aren’t exactly meant for the outdoors.  Though it is July, we could still die from exposure out here.”  That last statement seemed exceedingly true considering we were all already shivering.  We crept into a human pile without another word following Clarence’s pep talk.   

The next morning, we gathered dew from our removed sleeves with our silence continuing.  I couldn’t figure out what the hell I would do if we did get into town.  I considered using the ruby to break into a bank vault and load up old cartoon style sacks with dollar signs on them.  The thought that our faces would be plastered on the nightly news as escaped (and dangerous) mental patients also consumed my thoughts. One thing was for certain; the quiet simple life was far from out of my view. Now it only seemed filled with oppressive woodlands.

We collected the dew on the removed sleeves of our hospital scrubs.  We traveled ahead with me in the lead, Clarence in the rear, and Laurie in the middle.  I could tell the strain of walking around the woods without any clear path was murder on their feet.  I would hear the occasional “ouch” or “dammit!” as the hours rolled by with nothing in sight but more woodlands.  We noticed a large rocky outcropping that looked to be at the base of a small mountain.  Before trying to make any ascent, we decided it was best to try to get a better look around us. 

Clarence recommended that he wanted me to climb a tree to get a better vantage point, but with our terrible lack of equipment, such an action put us at risk.  He conceded that I should try after we discussed the topic.  I thrust myself on a tree with the ruby firmly gripped in hand.  Climbing one handed would be difficult.  Not to mention that when my weight hit the tree, the damn thing uprooted.  There was a resounding crash of a large tree falling and I let out an embarrassed cringe.  Laurie and Clarence darted for cover until they were sure I didn’t start a chain reaction that would destroy the entire forest. 

With the tree climbing plan a spectacular failure, we began our ascent up the rocky hill. It went upwards as far as we could see but without an overtly steep gradient.  We hiked for a grueling couple of hours upward.  Well, it felt like hours.  It is kind of alarming how dependent we have become on cell phones for time.  Clarence seemed to have a good handle on the sun's position and its relationship to time of day.  Show off.   

We finally arrived at a large jutting boulder overlooking the tree line.  We collectively sighed in dismay.  There was almost nothing but more trees and mountains in view.  Clarence and Laurie informed me that we were likely in the woodlands of Connecticut. They had the luxury of being told where they were sent.  I arrived as an unconscious lump instead.   They never gave me specifics about where I was held when asked, it annoyed the hell out of me.

The descent from the small mountain was a somber and soul crushing journey.  Laurie attempted to break the creeping sense of doom with conversation about famous historically based films that were rife with anachronisms.  Clarence hushed her after a minute and told her to save her energy for the journey. And maybe my sanity as well. And Clarence's too.

We traveled for 3 more days following Clarence’s survival advice.  Despite our dew collection and berry hunting, we were getting weak and a bit delirious.  We didn’t have any luck trapping anything during those three days.  It was the worst three days of my entire existence combined.  We were looking gaunt, exhausted, and pissed off. Once and a while I used the power of the mighty ruby to smash a large boulder we passed or rip a good-sized tree from the ground.  Take that nature. 

It was on the morning of the third day that we happened upon a miracle.  Laurie was scouting ahead and ran back to use yelping with excitement.  “You guys have to see what I found,” she squealed with exuberance.  Clarence and I exchanged puzzled looks but remained hopeful, nonetheless.  We were greeted by the sight of the most wonderful thing imaginable.  A semi-dilapidated cabin standing alone in the middle of the wilderness. 

Clarence grunted in delight.  My eyes began to water with joy.  In the haze of my misty vision, I could see Laurie doing a bit of celebratory twerking.  “Shake that ass, girl!” Clarence commended emphatically.  I laughed.  The first genuinely good-heated laugh that I had in a good long while.  We shared a brief group hug before making a steady approach to the painted red wooden door.   

Some of the windows were smashed but most of them were intact.  The roof also seemed to steady despite a few minor holes in it.  I could see the calculating mind of Clarence already planning a fixer-up job.  I held my breath as Clarence pushed the front door open. Damn, locked.  I gave a mischievous look as I prepared to open the door ruby-style.  Clarence and Laurie both looked at me and cried, “DON’T,” in unison.   

Clarence reached through one of the smashed-out windows on the ride side of the house and unlocked it.  He slid the lock open and climbed through.  Several moments later, he appeared at the door with a can of beans and a bottle of water in hand.  “Lunch anyone?” He asked with a triumphant smile on his face.  Laurie and I both offered him gracious smiles.  “Why that would be just, lovely.” She replied imitating the voice and mannerisms of a southern belle. 

The inside of the cabin wasn’t much to look at.  It was dusty as hell and wreaked of mold.  Still, it was furnished.  The living room held one of those itchy plaid sofas.  There was a large elk head mounted on the wall, a lever-action rifle suspended by nails on the wall, a bookcase full of dusty old tomes, and a quaint oak coffee table that looked like one of the legs was replaced recently.  We all took some time to soak in our surroundings. 

The kitchen had seen better days.  There was a refrigerator that was plugged in but receiving no power.  The sink coughed and sputtered brown colored goop before failing.  The cabinets were well stocked with various dry and canned goods.  Not to mention numerous bottles of water.  The oven looked completely ruined.  Looked like we would have to do our cooking in the living room fireplace.  Clarence noted, “there was a stream back, about less than half a mile, which we could grab some water that we could boil, should we run out.” 

There were two other rooms and a hatch to a crawl space below.  The room in the anterior left of the cabin was a bedroom, where unfortunately the worst of the roof damage was below.  The other room, on the anterior right side of the cabin, appeared to be an office or study of some kind.  Clarence was delighted to find a ham radio.  I found another bookshelf and a file cabinet.  At least I wouldn’t go mad with boredom, and I might learn something about our absent host. 

Clarence excused himself to go outside and look around the cabin further.  I was met with a locked file cabinet.  I made an earnest attempt to yank the drawers of the cabinet out without knocking the whole cabin over.  I partially succeeded.  The drawer flew off its tracks and showered the room in papers, folders, and photographs.  It dawned on me that I could have put the ruby down, but it just felt like the wrong thing to do. 

I did my best to stifle the quiet shame, before I began trying to sort the documents off the floor.  Glancing at one of the nearest photos brought new shivers up my spine.  It appeared to be a photograph of some kind of ancient Mesoamerican ritual of a man’s heart being scooped out of his chest by several outstretched arms.  The look on the photographed man’s face told me that he very much was alive and feeling it.  I did my best to brush the files on the ground, and brush the image of his face, transfixed in pain and horror from my mind.   

Clarence’s return provided the much-needed distraction.  “Well, I found a generator in the back,” he said hopefully.  “However, it is empty and no sign of gas.  Laurie mentioned some kerosene lamps in the supply closet, but we need actual gasoline.”  He scratched his chin thoughtfully.  The only place that remains to search is the crawlspace.” After he said that the hairs on the back of my neck pricked up in a newfound sense of dread.  He seemed to immediately share my sentiment.  Our sense of cheerfulness went right back out the window he climbed through.  Laurie did a phenomenal job of organizing and categorizing the supplies in the cabin.  We distracted ourselves from our brief terror by telling stories about ourselves while we prepared the meal.  After a dinner of canned beans and fireplace boiled rice, Laurie and Clarence were softly conversing on the sofa.  I excused myself to the office to try to organize and read some of the files from the cabinet.   

The files were disorganized by both my clumsy attempt to open the cabinet and because our host was no professional archivist. I categorized the documents into several piles.  One pile were documents that were legible and in English, one pile of documents were peculiar charcoal rubbings of petroglyphs of some kind, and the other were photographs that I didn’t have the emotional fortitude to look at directly.  The photos went face down as quick as I could tell they were photographs.  Even in those brief moments of flipping through the photos I saw images that will be forever burned into my skull.  The kind of shit you just can’t unsee.  There were photographs of shadowy creatures that were thankfully obscured by their surroundings.  There were photos of a man wearing a white suit and shaking hands with natives of some kind.  The photos weren’t scary based on such a description but if you gave even a passing glance at the man in white, you would know what I am talking about.  This guy emanated an aura of fear, even in the most innocent of photographs. 

The documents that were legible and in English provided me with scattered insights.  Many of the documents were rambling journal entries.  Many were poetic nonsense riddled with needless sophistries.  Some were itineraries, travel logs, and descriptions of various practices of native tribes scattered across the United States and Mexico.  In more than a few documents I noted that the narrator was looking for something to complete something called “Project Balthazar.”  It was after several hours and several breaks to rest my eyes that I discovered a document that gave the whole picture some meaning.  It was in a green sealed folder. I opened it and read: 

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Project Balthazar: 

Dr. H. Felter.  Physics Researcher at [Censored] 

14 September 1979.  Southwestern New Mexico - Near [Censored] Area. 

Mitigating the Negative Impacts of Gate Travel. 

Day 271: 

We approached our contact in an effort to discern what forces were interrupting the company's experimentation with Gates.  We have been unable to track the source of the interference by virtue of our testing devices alone.  The research group was forced to undertake unorthodox measures to ensure that the experimentations could proceed without any further complications.  (See document file 301.2a - Project Damocles) 

Our efforts to influence the high priest of the tribe with gifts or bribes was unsuccessful.  He informed us that blood sacrifice would be required.  I shudder to think what he meant by this.  I politely offered up Dr. Higgins to him, but according to his traditions, our blood was unclean.  I would normally chalk this up to tribal nonsense but given his tribe’s victory over “Azmodariel” (see attached images), it seemed unwise to argue the point.   

My efforts to translate the ancient language in the caverns in northern Mexico have been in vain.  I am certain with time, patience, and a bit of solitude, I could succeed.  The others in the research team are always asking questions, trying my patience, and interfering with my attempts to find the answers I seek.  They want a quick technological solution that looks good at the research lab in Mass.  They need to see.  They need to understand.  The secrets of Gate Travel are both a novel and ancient process simultaneously.   

I am running out of time with the board.  They want results, and my findings hardly gratify them.  Perhaps the elder was right, and our blood is unclean.  This would mean apocalyptic results if Project Balthazar was given the green light too early.  I need to retreat to my sanctuary in Connecticut.  I need more time.  Only myself, and my closest associates, can be trusted with the more nuanced portions of the experiment.    

 

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I found the notes degenerated into petty insulting of various doctors and board members.  And the narrator became increasingly fascinated by morbid rituals.  I had the most important information I needed from this whole nightmare.  Project Balthazar.  I got a sickening sense that it was somehow connected to my surreal adventure.  Maybe I was a test subject.  Maybe my experiences were part of some grand design.  Or maybe...and with that half of a thought, I passed out face first on the desk. 

I woke up to find myself in a dream.  Or at least I thought it was a dream.  I was incorporeal, like some kind of ghost or specter.  I was standing just outside my home.  I saw a pair of black Humvees pulling up to the curb.  Several armed men dressed in black were storming into my home.  I tried to protest and wail about the violation of my Fourth Amendment rights.  No sound could exit my mouth.  My spirit was gagged. 

I watched as the men stormed into my house.  I tried to follow them but couldn’t move either.  A strange man exited one of the Humvees.  He was an emaciated balding man who looked middle aged.  I recalled his appearance after a moment.  It was the man who was feasting on human flesh during the brief video interruption at the self-checkout machine at Walmart.   

He was wearing a silk bathrobe that he didn’t tie up, and his testicles were freely flapping in the breeze.  Despite his stringy limbs and chest, he sported a revolting pot belly that stretched his loose skin over it.  If my spirit had a stomach, it would be emptied right there.  He was sipping brandy from a glace chalice.  He watched the house as if scanning for something unseen.  After a moment, he sniffed the air around him and looked right at my ghost form.  I could see the insane hunger in his eyes.  I swore he noticed me but did nothing else to show it.  His gaze pierced through me, and it caused a deep and unsettling discomfort. 

The unorthodox paramilitary soldiers exited my front door.  One of the soldiers reported to him, “We found nothing inside sir.  It’s clean.”  The balding man took another sip from his brandy and paused.  He looked thoughtfully at my house and said in an even tone, “Burn this piece of shit to the ground.  It is an eyesore anyway.”  The soldiers entered the home to begin the task of burning everything I cherished away.  I wanted to wail on this asshole so badly. 

After a few moments, the balding man set down his brandy on the ground and scribbled something down in a notepad he kept in the monogrammed pocket of his robe.  The soldiers exited the house again, and the house began to start burning immediately.  The soldiers scrambled back into the military vehicles, but the balding man waited outside for another moment.  He ripped out, and dropped, a page from his notepad on the lawn before finally picking his drink back up and crawling into a Humvee.   

I awoke on the chair of the desk with a searing pain in my left hand that was accompanied by a strange warmth.  I lifted my left hand and cried out in terror.  The gem that I had been obsessively clutching to in my left hand was now embedded in my palm.  I couldn’t believe it.  The pain immediately began to subside when I took a frightened inventory of my gem encrusted hand.  It dawned on me.  The entire three-day hike before we got to the cabin, that gem never left my left hand (well not including the time I set it down.)  I wanted to chalk it up to the fact that the filthy scrubs I wore, had no pockets.  I wanted a lot of things that weren’t true to be true. 

Clarence and Laurie must have heard my cry, and I heard them rushing over to the doorway in the room I passed out in.  I did my best to hide my left hand.  There was a blessing in all this. My fingers could slowly unlock from the three day long fist they were curled into.  Laurie looked at me with deep concern.  “Johnny, are you alright?  We just heard you scream randomly.”  Her question revealed a deep empathy I hadn’t bothered to notice until then.  I think Clarence was more concerned I would go on a murder rampage. 

“Bad dream is all,” I said in a slightly panicked yet slightly groggy voice.  Clarence, sensing that the situation was contained, informed us that he was going to use the outhouse that was built nearby.  It wasn’t indoor plumbing, but it was good to know such a thing existed.  Laurie leaned against the wall tilting her head upward while she talked.  “I know you must be going through a lot.  It is not every day that we happen on superpowers.”  She tilted her head back down to meet my gaze. 

“We are here for you.  Clarence and me.  If there is something that you know, we should know it as well.  I never told you how I ended up at the crazy house, but I think we should talk about it.  It might help you understand your own situation.”  She sat down with her legs folded on the floor.  I immediately mimicked her movements and did the same.  I wouldn’t say I was attracted to her at this moment, but I felt connected.  It was a rare feeling for one such as me. 

“A few years back, I was living in a trailer park with my uncle and brother.  It was a shit hole, but it was home nevertheless.”  I got an awful creeping feeling this story was going to turn into a tale of sexual abuse.  I guessed that excusing myself to buy a pack of smokes wouldn’t work in this scenario.  She patiently waited for my attention to drift back toward her.  “Stay with me Johnny, this is important.” I nodded for her to continue. 

“My brother and I were playing cards before my uncle got home.  It was a hell of a thunderstorm that day.”  She looked away thoughtfully, like it was the best part of the memory.  She gulped hard before speaking again.  “He came home drunk as hell.  Our uncle was a happy drunk though.  He never hit us or did anything shady.  There was something different about him though.  My brother said something I will never forget, ‘That’s not our uncle.’”  She was fighting back the tears. I couldn’t tell if I should have given her a hug, but I waited patiently for her to regain her resolve. 

She did.  “He looked at us and I could see this weird evil yellow glow in his eyes.” The memory of Mr. Stinkopede's eyes sent a shiver down my spine.  “He started laughing.  It was this, almost, demonic cackle that caused the whole trailer to shake.  Blood began to pour from his nose and mouth.  A ton of blood, like I couldn’t even believe there was that much blood in a person’s body.”  I could have sworn I heard Clarence reenter the cabin, but he remained in the living room.  I think he knew this conversation was coming. 

“After my uncle started erupting blood, my brother and I tried to run past him and get out of there.  I managed to get away.  B-b-but the last thing I saw before I ran out of the door was my uncle’s mouth opening wide, with sharp pointy teeth, was him…”  She started to sob and shake as she spoke.  I moved toward her unconsciously.  “...Biting my brother’s head off!”  Her shrieks trailed off into an explosion of horrified tears.  I found my that my arms instinctively wrapped around her.  We cried together.  We sobbed and wailed for what seemed like an eternity.  We sat on the dirty floor with our arms wrapped around one another, sharing a shared supernatural trauma. I will never forget the feeling of her tears on my chest.   

After we calmed down a bit, she explained how she ran to one of her neighbors screaming and crying.  Not even 24 hours later, she was institutionalized.  Details of what happened to her brother and uncle remained undisclosed.  No big surprise there.  Clarence arrived with two mugs of tea that he boiled during our conversation.  With the worst of emotions in recession, I asked Laurie, “What year was this? What month?”  She blew on her hot tea ritualistically, before looking at me and answering, “July of 2017.”