Darkness has swept over the entire asylum like a huge, dark blanket. Abominable cries were heard all over the bolted windows of the forsaken home of the insane. While inside his office, Dr. James Matthews took a sip of his already cold coffee whilst staring blankly at the wall clock directly in front of him.
Isn't there anything exciting in this forsaken place?
Everyday, it was always like this. He would have nothing to do but to stay in his own little prison-like office, and sit on his hard, leather chair doing absolutely nothing. He was growing old, and still, he hadn't encountered serious incidents that would make his life a little more exciting. But things were about to change...
Infinite silence.
The miserable cries that permanently occupied this dungeon of filth suddenly stopped-mysteriously.
"Huh-"
Slowly, raindrops started to fall. The sound of water pouring down to the deluded sanitarium pavements trickled like the suddenly forbidden voices of the deranged. The raindrops suddenly replaced the cries. Doctor Matthews lifted his phone receiver to ask what the hell happened, but also, silently lurking in the air vent , a figure was waiting...
CRASH!!!
A man leapt from the broken air vent and surprised the bewildered doctor with a rope strangling him. The man, with a familiar mustache, Jonathan Garrett, who was claiming to be the reincarnation of Adolf Hitler demanded faith from the choking doctor. It was one of his ill-reputed, more violent patients.
Dr. Matthews raised his right hand and started yelling, looking as insane as the maniac who was slowly taking away his life.
"HEIL HITLER, HEIL HITLER!!!"
Matthews cried as if the Holocaust was happening again. Garrett gradually released his hold on the terrified doctor, allowing him to breathe. James coughed hard, trying to spit away the mucous trapped in his throat. He looked at the grinning maniac, slowly raising his right hand, revealing a shiny, black .45 pistol, towards Matthew's temple, as he looked straight into the maniac's threatening blue eyes. Matthews closed his eyes and tried to hold on to his few, remaining sanity, when...
*THUD*
He had fallen off of his couch, slightly inflicting pain on his disgraceful ass.
"Ungghhhh..."
His consciousness was slowly coming back to him, revealing to him that he had slept the entire afternoon.
He gawked at the wall clock and its hands showed that it was almost 7:00 in the evening. Again, he had missed to go home on time.
"NAAAWWWW.... Fuck!"
He hurriedly got up from the floor and went to his desk to pick up his personal belongings. Quickly, he packed all his things into his leather briefcase. He headed straight for the door, not bothering to turn off the lights.
The halls seem strangely quiet tonight... I wonder...
He barely finished his sentence when...
"Ahhh!"
One of the nurses, Andrew Pierce, had popped out of nowhere.
"Goddammit! What in the world are you up to, Pierce?" Matthews could not help notice the strange expression on Andrew's face, as sweat kept rolling down his fat head. Andrew could barely catch up with his breath, and words just came out of his mouth suddenly. Matthews could hardly understand what Andrew was saying until he paused, gasping for air.
"They're after us," Andrew slowed down, and the words seemed a lot more audible at this pace. "They know we escaped, and they're after us." Andrew rotated his head left and right, as if looking for something.
"What are you talking about-who, who's after you?" Matthews felt silly, that he could not hold his silly grin.
"No, no, they're after US!"
"What? Who? Why?" Matthews was puzzled, and he appeared really confused and fed up with this foolish setup.
"I have no time to explain-now, quick, follow me," Andrews quickly gestured towards the hall to the right, which led to the patients quarters, I mean, prisons.
Matthews hesitated, but he couldn't just stay there like that. Andrews looked serious, perhaps too serious, that he regrettably agreed to the scared nurses' proposition.
"Hey," Matthews called to the hurrying nurse in a lowered voice. "Wait for me!"
They were in the wards, but mysteriously, nobody was around. Andrew kept crawling down, as if hiding from something. He reached for the door knob, but Matthews prevented him.
"What in the world are you doing? Are you going to let some maniac escape by opening that God-forsaken door?"
Andrew slapped his own sweating forehead, as his eyes rolled up. "Don't you know anything?"
Without hesitation, Andrew rotated the door knob and slowly opened the door. The room was very bright, as the fluorescent light above lit up the place. The walls were padded, as to prevent the psychotics from banging their heads against the wall during some much depressed periods. Matthews eyes rolled left and right, exploring the ward.
So this is how it looks like.
Andrew looked around the hall, making sure that nobody followed them. Then he quickly entered the room and went to a corner. He pushed the padded wall slightly and the pad rolled to the inside, revealing an opening. Matthews was still outside, lacking knowledge about this silly escapade. Andrew gestured for him to enter.
"Hey, come on, stop wasting time, man..."Andrew's eyes was glaring with maybe either anger, or sympathy for the doctor. Matthews could simply not take the silliness anymore, as it was making both of them look like patients themselves.
Matthews hesitated and instead, stood up from his ridiculous position. He spoke to Andrew loudly, almost shouting.
"I'm not taking anymore of this nonsense, young man. Whatever made you like this, it's incurable...so-"
Andrew reached for the back of his trousers, and when the hands came back to sight, a pistol was with it. Andrew pointed to the puzzled Matthews.
"Listen, motherfucker, you can either come with me, or let me take you with me," Andrew made his suggestion as steadfast as the gun in his hand.
creak...
creak...
"Oh shit," Andrews shook his head in discouragement.
"Oh good, sane people," Matthews was overjoyed to hear footsteps.
The footsteps were becoming louder; they were getting closer.
"Hey, in he-" Matthews shouted to whoever was coming after them, but Andrew stopped him by smacking the butt of the pistol towards Matthews' pathetic temple. It knocked him out cold.
*BANG*
They were shooting! Andrews quickly shut the door and pulled the slumbering doctor towards the opening in the wall. He quickly slid in after him.
The secret hatch led Andrew and Matthews down towards the dark basement. They landed on the soft laundry. Matthews suddenly woke up, glaring red with anger.
"You hit me..."
Andrew disregarded the remark and pulled himself up towards the exit. But the door was locked by a combination.
"You hit me!"
Andrew was looking for other possible ways to exit, but the pathetic voice seemed to block his thinking.
"YOU HIT ME!" Matthews yelled at Andrew.
"Yeah, well I'd do it again..."
*THUD*
"Aaaawwww!" Matthews felt Andrew's cold, hard fist hit him directly in the eye, as he rolled back to take the blow.
"Now SHUT the FUCK UP!" Andrew yelled back. "I'm tryin to think..." Andrew caught a glimpse a small hammer behind Matthews' sorry ass. Matthews shielded his face with his arms, but Andrew didn't hit him.
Andrew took the hammer and looked at it.
"This will do..." With that, he started hitting the lock. On the other side of the room, Matthews was scuffling to get up, dusting the dirt slowly accumulating on his suit.
"Why are you doing this?" Matthews asked.
"Huh?" Andrew was busy pounding the lock.
"I said, why are you doing this? What the hell happened? Who are those people whom you're running away from?"
Andrew stopped his beating, and for a moment, stared at Matthews' blank face. He realized that Matthews hadn't had a clue of the incident.
"You mean you don't know?"
"Would I be this amazed if I knew what in the world is going on here?"
Andrew continued his work and started pounding the lock again.
"When were you brought in?" Andrew asked, his back facing Matthews.
"Huh?" Matthews was even more puzzled by the question.
"When were you filed, when where you brought in, you know..." Andrews paused the beating for a moment to wipe off the sweat accumulating on his forehead.
Matthews realized that Andrew was asking him when he had started working in the Asylum. Come to think of it, he was working here since the day it has been opened.
"Why do you ask that question?" His bewilderment still haunted him.
Andrew stared back at him.
"WHEN?"
"OK, OK," Matthews continued. "I've been working here ever since this Sanitarium was established-- since 1956."
Andrew felt a nerve twitch that made him realize something. He dropped the hammer from his hand, as if realizing something extremely violent.
"Oh my God..." Andrew stared at Matthews. His stare became as blank as Matthews'. "You're from the other side..."
"Other what?" Matthews was beginning to look puzzled again.
"Nevermind," Andrew quickly picked up the hammer, and pounded the lock even more harder, as if time was being taken away fast. "We really have to get you out..."
With all of his might, Andrew managed to break the lock. He opened the door, on the other side, they could see trees already. They were clear to escape.
"GET OUT, FAST!" Andrew signaled for Matthews to leave.
Outside, there were searchlights, and Matthews was a poor runner. He ran as fast as he could, but there was a fence, that from afar, it was invisible. He realized that he was trapped. Andrew gestured to Matthews to climb the tall fence, as if there was a possibility that he could make it. But Matthews stared blankly at Andrew.
"SHIT!"
Andrews ran towards Matthews toward the fence. But he stumbled down. He was pinned to the ground.
"unnnhhhh..."
Andrews fought to get back on his feet, when...
***WEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOWEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOWWWOOOO***
The searchlight had caught him and the alarm had sounded. From the huge speakers came a menacing voice.
"HOLD IT RIGHT THERE!!!"
Andrews tried not to mind the sounds. He tried to run as fast as he could, towards Matthews. On the far fence, Matthews looked as helpless as ever, with his face looking as white as ever.
"Climb the fuckin wall, Matthews, climb it..."
Matthews, in response to all the panic, run up the fence with fright. He realized that when he was scared to death, anything was possible...
"FASTER, MATTHEWS, FAST-"
**BANG**
**BANG**
Several gunshots were heard throughout. Matthews wouldn't dare to look back, as it would only frighten him.
**BANG**
A bullet went pass him and hit the fence. The guards were aiming for him now.
"Dammit!"
Matthews made it towards solid ground. He continued to run for his life, forgetting about Andrews. He realized that Andrews was dead, as he was not shouting to him anymore. Tall bushes surrounded the forest.
"Huh-" Matthews realized that this was not the Asylum in which he was in charge. He should have realized that when the guards on the towers were aiming for him.
Still, Matthews shut back the thoughts, keeping only his desire for freedom from the deadly bullets. Thorns caught his skin, bleeding them. Matthews had no time to feel the excruciating pain, but instead, kept on running for freedom. He was so busy with his running that he failed to notice a tree branch caught in the dirt.
"Aawwwww!"
**THUD**
The branch led him flying towards the nearby tree, and it knocked him cold, again.
******
Dr. James Matthews slowly opened his eyes, but the pain that the hard trunk made against his skull still was fresh. When his vision was getting more vivid, he could make out a very bright light on top.
"Ohhhhhh..."
He saw people clothed in white approach the bed on which he lay.
"Am I dead?" He asked the people who surrounded him. He thought that they were angels.
"No, you are very much alive, fortunately." The voice was of a male, it was deep and musical at the same time.
"Where am I?"
"You are in an institution..." the female voice trailed off.
The other man whispered to the woman who was speaking.
"He must not know where he is, you know what the Doctor had ordered..."
"Yes, sir..." The female reached out to the roller tray beside her, and fetched some tablets. It looked a lot like those medicines Matthews gave to his patients when they were anxious and stressed.
"Here, take this." She handed over the medicine to Matthews. But Matthews realized that he couldn't move his hands, as they were cuffed to the iron bed.
"What the-" Matthews struggled to get his hands free, but it was no use. "What is this! Why am I cuffed to the bed? I demand you release me at once!"
"I'm sorry, but the Doctor ordered you to stay in bed-permanently." The man led out a horrible laughter, and it echoed throughout the vast halls of this "institution". He shoved the medicines inside Matthews' mouth, and he hesitantly swallowed them. Matthews felt extremely light, that he almost felt that he was floating on air, and then...
Everything went black. But voices kept swirling in his mind, all ceasing to fade away. The words slowly came out, but Dr. James Matthews hesitated to hear them...
Matthews woke up to the piercing wail that almost shattered the walls of his room, or wherever he is. His ears were sore, so is his sight, and every goddamned muscle in his body. Everything in his body hurt. Even the tiniest movement he made felt like it could kill him. Kill. Yes. Matthews thought about death. What could be more painful than whatever he is going through now? Yeah. That would be the easiest way out. And it just occurred to him...
Where the hell am I?
Matthews looked around his room, but he barely could figure things out. His eyes were really sore. He didn't know why, but also, he couldn't remember a thing. All he could see from now was that all the walls and the ceiling were painted white. He couldn't tell whether he is still alive, or maybe he's reached heaven. But how could he be in heaven, when there aren't any beautiful angels flying subtly with their cute little white-feathered wings? And another thing, he was a sinful man.
Was?
Is.
And there were the cries that he was familiar with. Those irritating screams all seem so familiar. They seem to be coming out from everywhere, only he couldn't figure out from what direction. In a moment, they would all be silenced, but after a short pause, they would all come back. Why did the screams stop? Better yet, why did they scream, whoever they are? Where the hell is he?
Matthews tried to move his wrist, but something was holding it. He swerved his fists back and forth, but they wouldn't come together. Something cold and metally prevented his arms to move. He tried to look at what were holding his hands in place by moving his head.
"Unnghhh..."
He felt as though a surge of a 200 volt electric current had been triggered on him. But he was curious enough to handle the pain. When his eyes could finally make out a quite finer detail, he saw what held his hands in place. Those were metal bolts that had been fastened to his wrists tightly...painfully tight. When he could see them, he even felt more pain. His eyes had showed him that it looked painful, so his vocal cords followed in whining.
"Unngghhhh..."
All he could do now was moan and moan and moan. He looked at his feet, ,but saw them disappear into the blanket. If he didn't knew well, he'd swear that his feet were both gone, as with his remaining sanity. The pain was slowly eating away his body. It was passionately consuming his physical body, as well as his mind. It feels like his sanity was slowly leaving him behind. This scared him so much, and the only thing he would do was scream.
"AAAAAGGGGGHHHHHH!!!"
He screamed as he had never screamed before. Of course, he had never screamed before, or never even dared. Or else he would be considered as one of the insane. He screamed for minutes, but no one would hear him. Or no one would dare come to him.
Finally, he realized how his patients had felt once. He had become one of them. The physical evidences around him were reason enough to believe that he was committed to an asylum. But why?
Matthews swerved his entire body violently, almost flipping his bed over. He felt the excruciating agony, but he needed to get free. But it was no use. He was fastened to the despicable iron bed like a helpless paper. But still, he didn't hesitate to try. Harder.
He felt his strength returning back to him. The pain in his muscles all started to fade away. His vision was becoming a lot clearer. He looked at the walls and saw that they were padded, just like the walls of a typical sanitarium. He tried to squeeze out of his iron bed that held him for the last time. With all his strength, he did it.
CRUNCH...
As the bolts that were attached to his hands were slowly bending, he felt the bones in his fist slowly break as the bolts did. His thumb had been dislocated as to show it was where his index finger should be. He felt the ligament holding his thumb muscles tear, and the reeking sight that showed his bare bones made him nearly choke to death. But the dislocation made his hand passable through the bolts.
*KLUNK*
The bolted chain made a tinkling sound against the iron headboard of the bed, and finally, his left arm is free...at least. He pulled his arm across to the right, towards his other hand and unfastened the bolt, easily, without a strain. Except for the excruciating pain to see his own bones show. Blood dripped down on the white covers and stained it permanently. His other hand was now free.
Matthews sat up the bed to "find" his feet. Fortunately, they were there, just hiding beneath the covers. It was only the numbing sensation that he never moved his feet from that position which made it felt like it was gone. He moved his feet and reached for the ground. He stood up, but he forgot that his thumb was just hanging on his hand. It was barely an inch away to goodbye. With the slightest hesitation, he pulled his thumb away, and his hands spewed out even more blood.
*THWIPP*
"Mmmphhh!!!"
Matthews tried to prevent himself from screaming, but his eyes could not help to shed tears. The anguish that he had inflicted on himself almost made him faint. With his right thumb and index finger, he held the bloody thumb that resembled a chicken's bloody kidney dripped in applesauce. Matthews felt a twitch and dropped the bloody finger to the floor.
*THUCK*
The thumb made a disgusting sound as it hit the floor. It left a spot of blood on the white concrete floor. So much for sanitary.
With his mind now intact, he walked towards the door, leaving his bloodstain on the bed and on the floor. The room looked so small, but it wasn't cramped. There were no objects around, except for the bed in the middle of the south wall. On the north, directly facing the bed was the door. But when lying in the bed, it wasn't visible. It was like an illusion. Maybe to take away the patients' hope for possible escape.
Matthews reached for the door knob, and to his surprise, it rotated freely. It was unlocked. He slowly opened the door, and peeked if anyone was outside. He couldn't see much, so he pushed the door a little further. Matthews could see that the hallway was no different than his room. The walls were still unusually white and padded... and nobody was there. Although there were other doors labeled with little strange-looking symbols, but that's just about it. Matthews instantly threw the door open and lunged down toward the floor, just in case. Fortunately, there was nobody else around on the other side of the hall.
As he was exploring the hallway, strange, vivid images bothered his head. His memory was starting to refresh and he could make out that he had already been to this place. But he had a companion, and where is he, who was he?
He had no idea on where he was going, but he had quite a good instinct about where he was and where he was heading. He saw the doors and the walls surrounding him, and the dark memories slowly came back. His companion was the nurse, Andrew Pierce. His mind's ear could hear gunshots. And his memory tried to tell him that Andrew Pierce was gone. Cold fucking dead.
No...
Matthews realized that he was alone. He was a fugitive who was captured, and now, he's become a fugitive again. And the question came to his mind again.
Why?
He was approaching the end of the hall, and it was curving to the right. As Matthews was approaching it, he could make out shadows. And then talk... gibberish talk. It sounded like the people, or whatever they were, were hushing and buzzing. It was far from human speech, although it resembled the sound when people were whispering to themselves.
Curiously, Matthews hunched forward to take a peep on the other side of the hallway.
"Huh?"
His senses had fooled him. The ending wasn't a connected hallway. Instead, it was a huge "assembly room" for the people who were in charge of this institution. The place was dimly lit, but he could see figures moving.
The people inside seemed to have some sort of costume ball or something. But there wasn't any music. There weren't even any decorations. The only thing that made it looked like a costume party was that people were wearing colorful costumes, each person wearing a different one. This was odd... really odd.
There weren't any group discussions or any of the sorts. The people were separated from each other. They all seemed to be standing alone, not even aware that other people are around. The person on the far east corner of the hall was wearing a huge cape that resembled that of the classical Moses. He was carrying two heavy-looking stone tablets which asserted that this guy was impersonating the white-bearded man who lead the Israelites out of Egypt almost 4000 years ago. Also, not far from Moses, a man half-naked with only a goatskin to clothe him seemed to be talking to himself. He looked like he was the biblical Adam. Obviously, this was the Bible Section.
On the other end of the hall, people looked like they have been to the crusades or something. There was a young woman, with golden blond hair, in a silver armor. She looks like the legendary Joan of Arc.
Matthew could see that no two people were conversing. Each person seemed, or was talking to himself.
This people are NUTS! Why did this sanitarium leave them out here?
Thoughts swirled his head like a whirlwind. But it was suddenly put to a halt by the sound of the trumpets, accompanied with a marching band, and a loud, booming horn. The combination seemed all so annoying. The music seemed more like hideous screeches that could shatter your eardrums, and make them bleed to death. There was no order in that sort of 'music'. The "music" wasn't sane music. It only made a lot of howls and despicable noises. Matthews felt his ear hurt.
"Ahhhgghh..."
The sound seemed to keep going for hours, but only, it went on for only a few minutes. After the band got the crowd's attention, all of it, all those caterwauling noises suddenly disappeared.
All the lights then went out. The people had stopped speaking. As crazy as it may sound, all the persons in the hall stopped speaking to themselves. But the stage show wasn't over yet.
Coming from the top of the ceiling was a huge flag. The flag had familiar colors of white, red and black. It was so familiar to Matthews that it brought back ugly memories. It was the black crosses embedded in a white circle painted on a frightening red cloth.
It was the Swastika.
All these were dreadfully frightening to Matthews, for he was a Jew. The flag had reminded him of the painful childhood memories of his from the forties, in the Second World War... most especially the Holocaust.
As the flag was completely raised down, the crowd cheered as if Hitler himself had risen from the dead. It was like the German Nazi Revolution back in the thirties. When the flag reached the stage floor, a light was beamed from the backstage and short, frail shadow was cast upon the flag. The crowds were screaming for joy, when...
*BOOOOMMMM*
A loud thunderous explosion filled the entire hall like the explosion of an atomic bomb. Still, the crowds filled the halls with their accompanying cheers. The flag was set on fire by the explosion of a bomb at the foot of the stage. As it was slowly being consumed by the flames, the lights slowly revealed the person who was in the shadows. It was Adolf Hitler.
No...
It was Jonathan Garrett.
Matthew realized that it was his crazy patient. He almost forgot that this maniac almost choked him to death moments ago. Moments ago? More like weeks ago. It could be months ago, but he wasn't really sure. He didn't care anyway, because all he wanted to do was get out of this mad institution, and perhaps get help. But from whom?
Hitler, or Garrett, raised his right hand of what looked like the traditional Nazi salute. As he did this, the immense crowd followed him.
But the salute was only *temporary*. It was actually not a salute. Garrett was raising his hand towards his face. On his forehead, Garrett made a cut with his bare fingernail. The skin on his forehead in between his eyes had been cut, but there was no blood that was coming out. It seemed that Garrett's face was only a mask. And indeed, it was.
As his nails had almost cut the entire skin in his face, Garrett raised his other hand and tore the skin off. Matthews was too busy gawking at the horror that was unfolding, that he had failed to notice that the crowd, the entire goddamn crowd was doing the same.
It was not only that skin that came off. As Garrett had already finished unmasking his face, his entire body also followed. It all peeled off. Matthews' early assumptions were true... this is indeed a costume party.
But the oddest thing was that behind the mask, Garrett was not Garrett anymore. He wasn't Hitler anymore. Nothing was more bizarre than seeing the person behind Garrett's mask. It was hard to tell while being so far away from the stage, but Matthews knew who the person behind Garrett's mask was. He looked like a doctor. A psychiatrist.
It was him.
Dr. James Matthews.
to be continued...
Copyright 2001 by Dominic Sanchez.
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