“I know it’s early. But are you ready for recess?” Blinking,
I looked up to see Dr. Shavers beaming. He was opening the blinds in my room. A
faint trickle of early morning light broke free from the alley and spilled
across the floor, painting it in a brilliant orange.
“What time is it exactly?”
“Early, but I’ve got a surprise.” I
detected an odd playfulness in his eyes. Dr. Shavers stepped out into the
hallway, when he returned he was pushing a wheelchair.
“Aww Doc, first the Milky Way, now wheels?
You shouldn’t have.” I sat up lightning fast, as I was eager to move around and
see something besides the drab four walls that had surrounded me for so long.
“Where we goin’?”
“I have been monitoring your
condition, and I believe that you are well enough to visit with some of the
other patients.”
Feeling like child readying for his
first field trip, I couldn’t help but beam.
I was still not 100% however, and
Dr. Shavers knew this. Carefully, he assisted me into the chair from the side
of my bed.
Though I was giddy, to get out of
that room, and see something-anything- I held back asking where we were headed.
Dr. Shavers escorted me down a
short slanted hallway. The history of this building as a school hadn’t been too
far in the past. Rows of stacked grey lockers lined the hall at intervals on
both sides. There were classrooms we strolled past, some converted into
hospital rooms, some not. Others still were closed off, hidden behind tall
doors that I couldn’t see beyond my seated point of view.
Like a member of a drum line, he
turned sharply and pushed me through an open double door. I thought I might go
into shock from what I saw.
I was outside, and the sunlight was
shining down on me. It was as if my skin was thirsty, drinking in the light. My
eyes did the same with the clear blue sky. It had felt like a lifetime since I
had been outdoors, and I relished the feeling. After a moment, my eyes adjusted
and I saw Dr. Shavers had brought me into a courtyard of some kind. While I was
definitely outdoors, I was still within the confines of the building.
There was only one thing missing:
The other patients that Dr. Shavers had mentioned. My eyes darted from place to
place, past neatly clipped shrubs, ornate white benches, an empty but well
maintained veranda. I quickly deflated,
“This is nice Doc. But where are all the people like me?”
Dr. Shavers came around from
piloting the wheelchair. He too looked around and frowned out of puzzlement.
“Good question. He stalked off into the distance of the courtyard, and then
briefly disappeared behind a small utility shed. Though I couldn’t see him, I
soon began to hear his voice.
“Where did you get this Mr.
Hanson?”
Whoever he was talking to didn’t
answer.
“I told you before; this action
sets your recovery back. Whoever gave this to you is only hurting you in the
long run!” Still I heard no other voice. “Fine, by me. Be tight lipped. No one
likes a snitch right?” After a moment, an exasperated huff came from the
doctor. “Very well. I don’t need your confession. I know who’s responsible for
this anyway!”
I hadn’t ever heard the man’s voice
so loud, angry.
Dr. Shavers reappeared in a huff,
holding a burning cigarette in the tips of his fingers. As he neared me, I thought he might stop to
converse with me once more. Instead, he strolled right past me, and began
yelling once more. “You! How dare you? You know this could jeopardize that man’s
health!” Shavers punctuated his sentence by pointing towards the shed.
Struggling, I turned the chair 180
degrees. Dr. Shavers was standing across from another staff member I had never
seen. He too looked to be a doctor, as he was dressed in mostly the same attire
as Shavers, though this man had taken the time to press his clothing. The
stranger appeared calm, and carefree, perhaps taking comfort in his size, as he
was nearly a foot taller than Dr. Shavers. The man had a neatly quaffed helmet
of blonde hair. His body was thick, square, and looked like God Himself
wouldn’t have been able to wrestle this man from his feet. Nonetheless, Dr. Shavers stood toe-to-toe with
him.
When the unnamed doctor balked at a
response, Shavers pushed the index finger of his free hand into the man’s
barrel chest. “Just what do you have to say for yourself?” Was I about to see Dr. Shavers get trounced by a colleague?
With the air of a man who saw no
threat before him, the man smirked, which accentuated the clef in his chin.
“Kyle, you know they encourage pharmaceutical experimentation.”
Dr. Shavers grabbed the other man
by the arm, and began to lead him inside. The larger man shrugged and sighed,
seemingly agreeing to let the smaller man escort him away. As they traveled I
heard Shaver’s voice trail off. “Quiet you moron! I have a patient out there!!
And god dammit don’t call me Kyle!!! We are not on a first name b-” They
returned indoors, out of earshot, and my eye line.
Sensing a presence behind me I was
not surprised when I whirled in my chair to see an astonishingly ugly fat man
in a Rainbow Brite t-shirt.
“Name’s Hanson- fuck are you
anyway?”
It was obvious he had been chewing
his lip; it was cracked and bleeding even as he spoke.
“I’m Burke,” I reached out my hand.
Not only was this action was not reciprocated, it was completely ignored.
Instead, Hanson circled me with a
curious eye. His tongue protruded from his mouth, as he began to squint and wag
his finger. After completing a full 360 degrees, he spoke again, “New?”
“Umm, ya .” I shrugged, but
supposed it was a mostly true statement.
Nervously and slowly, Hanson ran
his hands through his own tendril-like follicles. The funk emanating from them
made me guess Hanson hadn’t showered in some time.
Then he pounced, Hanson grabbed my
head as well, and pawed at it, stroking, digging, and in some cases tugging at
my hair. “Get off me, what the hell.” I was centered in my wheelchair, so after
a few moments I was able to push his hands away.
“Sorry, sorry. Had to be sure.”
“Sure of what? I use shampoo unlike
you?” I straightened out my hair as best I could.
“No, I already figured that. Just
needed to see if they planted you in here, and then planted a bug on you.”
Naturally I asked, “And why would
they do that?”
“Keep tabs on me.” Hanson eyeballed
the doors that Dr. Shavers and his colleague had used when they exited. He
began to whisper, “They don’t like me. But you, you, you, you,” he seemed to
stick on the word like an old record player, “you seem safe. And ignorant.”
“Is that a fact?” I sat there
watching him fidget. He had pulled his hands close together and continued to
roll them over one another furiously, palms overlapped knuckles in a circular
fashion.
“I don’t know if its fact, but it’s
a hunch. That’s all I got right now.”
“What were you smoking, a joint?”
Matter of factly, “No, that’s horseshit. It’s peyote.”
“Hmm, they give that out do they?”
“Give what out?” Hanson looked up,
met my eyes, but his were vacuums. In addition to the tiny rivulet of blood on
his lips, a long strand of slobber had now appeared. It swayed back and forth
with the rhythm of his melon-sized head.
“The peyote?”
A churning laugh escaped from him.
It was the kind of laugh you give when you are lost in a conversation, and have
nothing else to say. More than that, it was the laugh of a feeb. Before I could
say anything else, he was already talking.
“I have a secret.” Hanson didn’t seem paranoid
anymore, he seemed giddy. I likened his sudden mood change to a child, eager to
share something they felt was innocuous, but important at least in their mind.
I was now drawn into whatever this
man might have to say, I quickly looked over my shoulder to make sure Dr.
Shavers was not marching through the doors.
“Really, what is it?”
“Aww, that’s not how it works. You
have to trade.”
“I don’t think I have any-”
Hanson cut me off; his glazed eyes
suggested he might not even be talking to me, maybe at me. “You have to trade me a secret for my secret.”
I thought through some examples
that I might be able to give him. I arrived at a stale memory from 5th
grade. “After gym class Roger Kirkland tried to kiss me on the mouth at recess.
I punched him square in the nose, busted it open really. Lots o’ blood. When
everyone asked why I hit him, I lied and told him he had called my Mom a
whore.”
Hanson’s gaze trailed.
Is
he staring at the breeze, I wondered.
“No, that’s pretty old. Mine’s more
closer. Newer…”
My secret had been deemed too
dated. I thought for a few more seconds, it didn’t take long. “Okay, Dr.
Shavers snuck me a Milky Way as an evening snack the other day.”
“Oh, I like Milky Ways. That’s a
good one.” The man sat down in the middle of the courtyard, and folded his legs
underneath him. His eyes again drifted.
Smiling, I asked Hanson the most
obvious question: “Great, now what’s your secret Hanson?”
Immediately his eyes were back on
me, “Who told you my name?” They were intense, focused, and I could’ve sworn
his voice had deepened to a slight growl with the question.
As I looked at him it was like I
was seeing a different person. The countenance of a confused and perhaps lame
child was gone. The face of a hideous and chubby vagrant had returned. “You did
Hanson. What’s your secret?”
The word must’ve been some kind of
trigger for the man. Secret. Eyes
softened, his voice became chipper. “Oh that.” He motioned for me to come closer,
and began his cupping his hand. Fleetingly, I questioned whether it was safe to
let this man get close to me, to drop my guard. Despite the hair tussling, he
seemed pretty harmless, albeit eccentric.
I leaned into Hanson, and he rose
slightly, still kneeling on the pavement. Furtively, he checked his
surroundings. With a deep breath, he spoke clearly and confidently into my
right ear. "It can't be like Mad Max, no one would live in that shit.
Everyone needed comfort, stability, craft beer, a Maytag, and a fucking flat
screen. But some people still reject that too, and end up here. You ended up here."
My mind tried to process the ramblings
of this simpleton. But Hanson was still talking; lucidity didn’t seem to be a
problem at this moment.
“The rest of the world didn’t want
to destroy us, merely take us down enough pegs so they could assume control.
That’s what all this is about, assuming
control….Because when you assume control; you make an ass out of ‘u’ and ‘me’…”
“Where did you hear that?” I asked.
My instinct was to hide my skepticism, but I wasn’t sure if I had it any
skepticism to begin with. What sort of
credentials could this man have that would persuade me that he was telling the
truth? “I said, ‘where did you hear that!?’”
Hanson was very much gone. Though
make no mistake, physically, he still stood before me. However, his eyes were
now glazed over, the saliva that had a moment ago been dangling from his lips,
had finally fled and landed without elegance on Rainbow Brite’s face.
I snapped my fingers rapidly in
front of his face, “Hanson!” Nothing, the blank stare of a catatonic mongoloid.
All I knew so far, was he was an
odd looking, peyote using unknown. Was that enough? The more paranoid
recesses of my subconscious seemed to cry out. I thought back through my stay
at this facility. The circumstances, the staff, the whereabouts, the lack of
contact with the outside world. My mind went to my phone…I wanted it. Dr.
Shavers said it was here in the hospital…school…wherever the hell we were. I needed my phone!
I felt my heart, it had become an angry drum. At the same time, I began
sweating; I also realized one key thing: Since I woke here I had not been able
to recall any memories just prior to- as Dr. Shavers put it- this ‘plague’.
Why
was my breath suddenly so ragged, my body so cold?
My heartbeat had begun thundering
to a crescendo with this realization. I wheeled around to get away, though I
had no idea where I’d go, who I’d turn to…Shavers? He seemed to be my best (if
not only) option.
Gosh,
I was sweating so very much.
When I turned, leaving Hanson to
his melancholy stupor, I saw the blonde doctor that Shavers had escorted away.
“My, my Patient Burke isn’t it?”He
approached, with what may have been a menacing snarl, or a caring grin. My
vision had become too dappled and blurry to tell the difference. “You don’t
look so well,” he reached for me, though I never felt his hands. Instead of the
blonde doctor’s touch, darkness cradled me. I toppled from the wheelchair weak,
sick and wet.
