CHAPTER TWO
The morning air chilled my skin as I walked to Silent River's main hospital building. The temperature was somewhere between the humid heat of summer and frost of winter. The leaves on the trees were starting to turn, the fall months creeping in. I hadn't experienced fall at Silent River yet. When I first arrived, it had been mid-April, the full throes of spring had encapsulated Silent River in a haze of succulent honeyed blossoms. For such a tragic place, Silent River boasted cheer. Fall was no different now. The Aspen trees towered overhead, the white of their bark almost translucent against the rising sun.
This was my first time walking this path to the main hospital. I'd bunked in one of the three apartment buildings with the rest of the staff, previously – it was where I assumed I would stay, in spite of my promotion. Yet, after work yesterday evening, I'd trudged up to my room, exhausted, to find a maintenance supervisor standing outside the hallway to my tiny apartment, informing me to gather my things – that my new position came with an upgrade in housing.
He led me to my new home, it was some distance off from the main hospital, north of the building - the apartments were on the south side. I'd never done much exploring of the grounds – there was always too much work to be done, I didn't even know there were buildings on the other side of Silent River's looming fortress. I stood corrected.
I'd followed Hank outside the apartments, carrying my one box of meager belongings to a small golf cart, in which he escorted me to my new home. It stood alone in the midst of the woods. A light fog had settled over the dark bricks. It looked more foreboding than any other place at Silent River.
"I'll live here alone?" I'd asked Hank. It turned out the house was at least three times I couldn't imagine all this space for just little old me. I'd never had more than a thousand square feet of space to myself ever in my adult life.
Hank had given me a look that seemed to border somewhere between pity and agitation. "For now," he replied.
I intended to ask what he meant, but he was already on the golf cart driving back the way we came.
The fully stocked kitchen and appliances erased any doubts Hank had given me. I usually had my meals at the cafeteria inside my building, with no active kitchen inside my tiny room. Now I would be able to cook for myself – something I hadn't done in ages.
I'd done just that this morning, burning my eggs and toast.
It's just nerves. First day of a new job. New floor. New patients.
And that dream.
I pushed the thoughts away, my flats crunched on the damp ground as I moved along the well-beaten path, leaving my new home behind. The east side of the hospital, with its sprawling, mossy brick walls, didn't look inviting, even in the morning sun, but I couldn't help the excitement that thrummed under my skin.
"Ah, Dr. Violet, you're early." A middle-age d man waited for me at the end of the path, in front of a set of double doors. Dark green ivy had swallowed up the space around the door, nearly covering the words that read North Entrance. "I'm Gregory Blakelyn, a chairman on the hospital's board. We spoke on the phone."
"Yes." I nodded.
"The board is thrilled you'll be taking on this position. It will be a challenge, but we have no doubt you will do well." He handed me a magnetic card with my name and picture on it. "This will grant you access to the building."
I lifted up the card attached to my lanyard. "I already have one."
"Yes. That is for the main hospital. It does not give you access to Ward Z." He reached out and flipped both cards over. My previous card had a swipeable black strip. The new one didn't. The back of the card was completely blank. "This new card has a special censor encoded and created just for you. You will simply walk up to the door you wish to open and press your palm against the pad." He motioned to the square, off-white slate next to the double doors. "The combination of your hand and your card within the immediate vicinity will allow the door to open. All of the doors inside will work the same way. Does that make sense?"
"It does."
"The doors will only open for you, with your card. If you forget your card at home one day, you will not be able to gain entrance with someone else's card and your handprint. They work only in tandem."
"Simple enough." I nodded.
"Great." He gave me a weary smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Well, it was nice meeting you. Good luck." He moved to walk away, back toward the front of the hospital not toward the double doors.
"Where are you going?" My voice cracked a bit on the end. The first bit of panic flaring up under my skin.
He isn't going in with me?
"Dr. Violet," he paused, only half turning, "my job is simply to give you access to the building."
I tucked a loose piece of my blond hair behind my ear. "You aren't coming in? Don't I need to be briefed on the specifics of the job? You were very vague on phone with the job offer the other day."
Gregory frowned and I could have sworn I saw uneasiness in the lines of his face. "Dr. Violet, it is not my job to tell you how to do your job. The board and I thought you could handle your own, which is why you were offered the job in the first place."
I tried not to let his condescending tone drag me down into a pool of anger and irritation. Instead I clung onto the last part of his words. I was chosen for this. Me. No one else. Brian's face flashed in my head and doubt attempted to creep in.
No. I pushed it back. I can do this. I'd never been one to shy away from a challenge – not in the second grade when Richie Yates called me fat and slow and told me I couldn't beat him in a race around the playground, not when Tim McDonald, my advisor, said I would never make it through medical school, and not now.
"I'm quite capable, Mr. Blakelyn. I just assumed there would be briefing on the patients, my staff members, and—"
"You'll figure it out." He turned, calling over his shoulder, "Good luck." I wasn't certain, but I could have sworn I heard him mutter under his breath, "You'll need it."
The door worked just as Gregory said, swinging forward with the press of my palm against the pad. To my surprise a stairwell stood just in front of me. Nothing else. Just a path downward.
Uneasiness crept over me. A cracking sound behind me, caused me to jump. I glanced around, hoping to see Gregory again, perhaps he had changed his mind and was going to show me around after all. But I was alone. I moved forward quickly, taking the non-descript white stairs downward into Ward Z, the most top-secret ward in all of Silent River, where I was head of Psychiatry. Me! Those thoughts emboldened me as I moved, taking me down to the bottom step.
My confidence didn't last long. An unattractive gasp left my lips when I barreled into a warm body, standing at the bottom of the steps. I toppled backward onto the last step.
Three people stood there waiting for me. They all wore scrubs of different colors with name tags similar to the one Gregory had just given me.
"Holy shit!" I gasped, running a hand through my hair. "You guys scared me."
"Works every time," The tallest of the three spoke.
They chuckled.
"Welcome," an elderly man stepped forward. He smiled revealing a smattering of very crooked teeth, with several missing. "I'm Christopher. I'm the day nurse for Ward Z." He extended his hand, helping me up off the floor.
I shook his hand, letting out a deep breath. "Oh, well it's nice to meet you. I'm Dr. Adeline Violet."
The other two men extended their hands and I learned their names were Lewis and Ryan, orderlies for the ward.
"I'll show you your office, Dr. Violet." I followed Christopher down a sterile white hallway, while the other two dispersed. It appeared exactly identical to Ward N upstairs.
A relief.
"This is it." He opened the last door at the far end of the hall. A flick of the switch revealed a large office with a simple metal desk surrounded by at least six filing cabinets. Simple. Plain. No windows down here in the basement. It was much larger than the office I'd had upstairs.
I sat my purse on the empty desk and ran my fingers across the glass top. The sweat on the tips caused them to slide freely instead of skidding along the surface like they should have. The air in the office was stale, old, empty as if no one had occupied it in a long time. There were no personalized items, like Dr. Tawney hadn't just worked from here a little over a week ago. Like he, and the doctors before him had never existed.
"Do you like it?"
I glanced back at Christopher. He stood in the doorway.
"Ah, yes." I smoothed my hands down the front of my coat.
"Not what you expected is it?"
"Well—"
"You expected cobwebs and weeping walls, stained with the souls of the most volatile psychotic criminals in the United States."
It wasn't a question. "I suppose so." I chuckled, images from my dream resurfacing.
"Those from upstairs come up with some pretty wild stories for us down here." He crossed his arms over his chest. His scrubs were dark blue and he had a sparse smattering of gray hair across his head, with a bald spot in the middle.
"They do." I nodded and glanced around, feeling better about being down here than I had since the moment I'd accepted the job. The last week had been a mantra of me repeating over and over in my head that I could do this. That I could work down here in Ward Z, the downstairs. I'd tried to block out the voices of my coworkers – and not just Brian's voice. Others were there too, basically everyone from Ward N and the surrounding floors had come down to try to convince me to stay, or just to stare. That's right, some had come down on their break and stood outside my office peering in. Some were fascinated, interested, curious. Others looked at me as if it was the last time they would ever see me. Never once did anyone look at me with jealousy or resentment amongst those of my psychiatry peers.
Blocking out those looks, those words from people I didn't hate like I did Brian, was much harder than I expected. But this wasn't so bad. The office was plain, simple. The walls in the hallway were white, regular white, like any other ward, and everyone I'd met so far seemed nice, funny even, maybe.
"I'd like to meet the rest of my staff down here. If possible, I'd like to organize a meeting with everyone today, so I can get a feel for everyone, and be briefed on any special type of protocol that may be different than I'm used to upstairs."
"The rest of the staff?" Christopher quirked a surprisingly thick eyebrow.
I kept my gaze on his. "Yes. The rest of the staff."
He smiled, revealing his significant gaps. "You just met them."
"Wh-what?" I shoved the limp piece of hair that had come out of my low ponytail, behind my ear. "I only met you, Ryan, and – and—"
"Lewis," he supplied. "We're it for the day staff. Then there's Henry, he's the night staff nurse."
"But I'm head of psychiatry for Ward Z, there should be two other psychiatrists at least, a medical doctor, more nurses and orderlies. How—"
"Not down here. We don't work the same as upstairs." Christopher seemed irritated.
"There should be a medical doctor, though. The federal government requires at least one doctor per ward, maybe more." And just like that my panic returned. I wasn't qualified to handle medical problems for patients. "Not to mention surgeons, if—"
"We had a medical doctor. He quit. The board still hasn't replaced him."
"Oh," I blew out a sigh of relief, "how long ago did he quit?"
"Over a year ago. We aren't holding our breath."
"A year? Well – that just – I…" I couldn't form the words to try and understand.
"Things are different down here. Let me show you, Dr. Violet, before you have an aneurism and we have to replace you too."
I followed Christopher out of my new office, with my mouth gaping.
"Ward Z is not like upstairs. It isn't confined by the same rules the federal government imposes on the rest of the hospital." He gestured to the doors lining the hallway. "Our residents down here are permanently in solitary confinement. They never leave their rooms, therefore, they don't need as many babysitters." He approached a door and wrapped gnarled-looking knuckles against it. They barely made any noise at all. "The walls, the doors, the rooms - they are all made with a special type of reinforced steel." He continued to drum his knuckles. "No other ward in the building has this kind of steel technology. Not even volcano lava could destroy it. If the rest of the hospital burned, these rooms would stay intact, regardless. Not even the sun smashing into the earth could melt these walls down."
"The government is trying to protect these patients more than the rest of the hospital?"
Christopher chuckled. "The walls are for our protection, not theirs. I'm sure you've seen some pretty fucked up things upstairs Dr. Violet, but this is as bad as it gets."
I swallowed, but the persistent lump in my throat wouldn't go down. "So we have strong walls, but surely we need more staff." I glanced through the window into the room. I didn't see anyone inside outside of a plain bed, but that didn't mean anything. "If all these rooms are full—"
"There are only four patients in Ward Z."
"Wait, four? Just four?"
He nodded. "The most ever kept down here at once was ten, that was before my time here, though. When I started there were seven."
"What happened to them?"
He stepped away from the door, sending a whoosh of air toward me. He smelled stale, dusty, like my new office. "No patient ever leaves Ward Z, not alive."
I followed Christopher around, listening as he told me about the special ways the rooms were utilized, how my key card worked, and how things typically functioned down here. It turned out, I was to be the only person to have direct, regular contact with the four patients. Just me. No one else, not the orderlies, nor the nurse were to be in contact with them without my presence – not even in the case of an emergency in the middle of the night.
"They could be dying, Dr. Violet, and we cannot enter that room without you. It is only your key, your hand, that will allow us access."
"But, what about food?"
He gestured toward a metal type flap at the bottom. "All food goes in and out that way. If they won't return the plate, then they starve until it is returned."
When I tried to point out how unethical something of the sort was, he walked me to the door farthest from my office, closest to the stairs. Z01.
"This is Raymond Smithers. He's been in here the longest, since the sixties, close to when we first opened. Look inside."
I peered through the window. A man sat inside on the edge of his twin bed, from what I could see, he appeared to be older, but his face was obscured with a muzzle.
"Raymond, since arriving at Silent River, has killed more than ten hospital employees and four other patients."
"How did he get weapons? There must have been really poor security at the time."
"The most recent staff member he killed had your job, some five or six years ago. It was in the transition into these new fancy doors and walls they installed." Christopher leaned in close, so close I could feel the briefest tickle of his breath against my ear. "He didn't need a weapon. He uses his teeth."
I stared at the man in the room, through the clear window. One of the orderlies must have cleaned it recently. He rubbed one hand over his wrist, a shiny metal bracelet adorning each. The muzzle on his face was black, clamped tight around his head, spurts of gray hair poked out of the holes at the back. I couldn't see his eyes as he stared forward at something I couldn't see.
"He uses his teeth to kill, and then to eat."
Goose bumps spread across my skin. I could see it in my mind. The tufts of gray hair sticking out of his head, the muzzle gone, replaced with blood. My blood.
"You don't believe me?"
I blinked and looked at Christopher, letting the image of the blood fade away. "I didn't say…"
Christopher lifted his sleeve, revealing a teeth-mark shaped scar on the inside of his bicep – it was in that soft, fleshy place on his aged arm, that always stayed a lighter shade.
"Got me good, too."
"When did this happen?" Part of me wanted to reach out and feel the raised flesh of the scars. I'd had a fascination since I was a little kid, with touching things to understand them. I kept my hand in my pocket.
"Five or six years ago. It's hard to keep count." He dropped his sleeve.
"You mean, when the psychiatrist was killed?"
"Yes. One in the same." He met my gaze. "It was a chaotic time. The new system had just been installed. Raymond was the first to be put in one of those rooms." He glanced at the window shaking his head slowly. "Dr. Edwards was excited to try it out. But there was a malfunction with the new electronic restraints, since we weren't using the chains anymore." He paused.
"So what happened?"
Hi gaze met mine again, and I couldn't help but notice the blackheads in his nose. "Like you, only he had access. It was…days before we managed to get into the room."
"Days?" I gasped.
He nodded, his face flat of emotion. "There wasn't much left of him. Some parts of him were just bones. And Dr. Edwards' eyes," Christopher made a popping sound with his mouth. "Gone."
"Gone," I repeated.
Christopher smiled. "Raymond ate them."
"Oh," I covered my mouth.
"Once we got in there, it took a horde of us to get Dr. Edwards out, well," he paused, "what was left of him. That's where I got this." He pulled back his sleeve revealing his scar again. "You see this?" He motioned to a little scar above where the teeth marks were, no more than an inch above it. He tapped the raised flesh. "You know what this is?"
I considered it for a moment. "A different scar?"
"No," he chuckled. "That motherfucker needs braces. Fucking snaggle-toothed asshole."
I blinked, giving my eyes their solace, and stepped back from the window and from Christopher, refusing to flinch.
I had expected there to be terrible people down here, but I wasn't going to let Christopher see that he was getting to me. He continued to chuckle at me.
I took a deep breath. He was a part of my staff, of which apparently I was the only head. If I let him see that I could be easily scared, my staff wouldn't take me seriously and this would be over before it began.
"I'll need to see files on all my patients."
A smug sneer covered Christopher's face. "Top drawer in the first filing cabinet in your office, Dr. Violet."
I left him there in the hallway, in front of Raymond's room – the cannibal – my patient – and headed to learn about my four new patients.