3
“They look at him, why do they always look at him? We don’t like them to spy on us.”
“Go away, leave me alone,” Anthony Baker said to the voices in his head. He sat at one of the tables in the St. Joseph Institute’s common room. Several other patients occupied other chairs. Some were playing a game of scrabble, others a game of chess. A small group of men were engaged in a discussion. A few men were reading a book. No one in particular paid attention to Anthony. There were four male nurses all in white uniform present in the room. Two of them were chatting and looked around the room from time to time. The other two nurses both played a game of scrabble with a few patients; they also scanned the room every few minutes. Everything was quiet.
“Stop looking at me, mind your own business,” Anthony said out loud. His speech was slow.
“Al right, alright, Baker, nobody is looking at you,” one of the scrabble playing nurses said.
The teeth of the man grew larger, they changed into enormous fangs. All Anthony heard was growling. For a moment he thought he was smelling sulphur, but that couldn’t be true. Neither could the green yellow vapour fill the room. But why did he see it then? And who was the man in rags? What does he want from me?
“Keep away from me,” Anthony screamed. He got up from his chair and threw it through the recreation room. It nearly hit one of the other patients.
Immediately the two nurses who had been chatting hurried to the trouble maker. One tried to put an arm around Anthony in an attempt to calm him down. “There is no one here who wants to harm you Anthony, let me take you to your room.”
“He’s lying, they are all lying.”
“Yeah he needs no listening to, he’s one of them.”
Anthony pushed his hands against both ears. “NO, I’m not listening to you, you’re not real.”
“That’s right, the voices are in your head,” the man with the fangs moved nearer, he growled even louder. His yellow eyes pierced Anthony’s. Shaking of fear he looked away.
In an attempt to escape the creature Anthony made for the door, it was locked.
“Oh no, what is it now”?
“He is giving up, is he”?
He should, he doesn’t do anything else, he’s a failure.
“Shut up,” Anthony shouted to the voices. “Or I kill myself.” He swayed a broken piece of glass in front of his own eyes. “Do you see this? I’ll kill myself, if you don’t open the door and let me go.”
“Anthony, Anthony,” a voice arose from the mist.
“Keep away from me.”
“I can’t help you if you don’t allow me to come near,” the voice said. “You want me to open the door don’t you?”
“Yes.”
The man approached the patient, step by step he moved closer. “It’s me Doctor Greystone.”
“Open the door,” Anthony demanded. Another part of him had taken over. He was no longer afraid. It seemed weird but underneath his fear he’d known all along he was seeing things which couldn’t be real. To show the staff he was serious he put the piece of glass against his throat.
“Do it, do it now.”
Doctor Greystone did as he was told. Immediately Anthony took advantage of the situation. He ran down the white washed corridor of the institute. Four male nurses chased after him. His fat stomach made running difficult. Every couple of feet he made a desperate lunge at the handrails and held on to them tenaciously, his face flushed from exertion. Repeatedly the men pried his hands from the rails.
Before Anthony became aware of what was happening, the men grabbed hold of him. While the other men held him down, Doctor Greystone stuck a syringe into Anthony’s arm.
Sometime later, Anthony noticed the nurses brought him in the padded cell again. A tray with food stood in one of the corners of the room. A red collared smartie was waiting for him in a small plastic medicine cup.
“How dare they put me in here, what did I do wrong this time”? He thought.
He picked up the tray and smashed it against the wall. The padded wall bounced the mug of tea towards his head. Only because of his swift reaction, the mug missed him by an inch. He picked the smartie up from the floor and put it in one of his pockets.
“They must think I’m crazy to give me Largacil. I‘m not taking it, they’re not going to control my mind”. He couldn’t trust any of them.
He scanned the cell for hidden cameras and bugs as he marched around. Perhaps I should have checked earlier for them.
Hopefully nobody had seen what he’d done. Finished checking the cell, he sat down on the floor with his legs crossed and began to count the buttons in the four walls.
If only he could get rid of those voices in his head. He’d spent three months in this place already and things hadn’t changed for the better at all, medicine or not, although most of the time he didn’t take it. The worse were the visual hallucinations. They’d begun when he had been stuck in that God forsaken traffic jam.
He moved his car a few meters forward. He was surrounded by cars and trucks. He was standing in the traffic jam for more than 40 minutes when a smell of rotten eggs filled the car.
“What is this?” Anthony thought. A green yellow trail of fog appeared from the dashboard. Steadily the mist surrounded him. The rotten eggs turned into a smell of death. Pinching his nose he grabbed his stomach.
“Ouch! What’s that”? He pushed the door of the car open. Vomit heaved from his stomach onto the side of the road. Afraid to look back he left the door open.
“I have to get out of here, this isn’t normal.”
Running along the line of cars Anthony didn’t hear the people honk their car horns. Instead he heard a howling noise, the howling of a green ghost which smelled of decay. His legs didn’t want to do what he told them, they became paralyzed, he could barely move. The sound and smell came nearer.
A hand touched his shoulder.
“Woooah!” Anthony jumped out of fright. He turned around. Behind hind stood two figures in rags, their breath stank of decay, death. Where their eyes should have been were dark holes. To his disgust Anthony saw worms crawling from the eye sockets. Anthony’s heart was pounding in his chest.
“Go away from me, leave me alone,” he cried. “No, no, go away you’re not real. Help me, help me, please.”
But no one came to his rescue instead the zombies threw him to the ground. Powerless Anthony lay there unable to move or scream, while the creatures clawed the flesh of his bones.
An hour after Anthony Baker was confined into the padded room, the door of the isolation cell opened. By that time, he’d counted the buttons on the walls twice. He wasn’t sure yet whether he’d counted them correctly, though. He found it hard to focus. Ever since he lost his mother, his concentration was diminishing. Soon after she died, Anthony began to hear voices. In the beginning they were friendly, and most of the time he heard his own mother’s voice. However, following his father’s death, he experienced violent and hostile voices. One of those voices in particular brought him nothing but misery.
“There is someone who wants to talk to you, Baker.” The nurse sounded bored.
“Who is it?”
“It’s an American chap. He is in the director’s office.”
It took several moments before Anthony got up from the floor. He stretched his legs; They’d become stiff from sitting in the same position. Even though St. Joseph’s was not a real prison, it sure felt like one to Anthony.
Anthony and the nurse passed the cell units as they walked through the corridors, each one was equipped with its own dining and social areas. The dining area was deserted. None of the patients ever ate in the dining room. The patients still ate in the solitude of their own rooms. There wasn’t enough staff to keep an eye on all of them.
The nurse’s knock on the director’s office was answered swiftly. A 36 year old man occupied a black leather chair. His blue suit looked brand new. He did not get up; neither did he offer his hand to greet Anthony.
“Isn’t he a lovely guy, with his dark curls? He looks a little bit like him when he used to be a lad.
“Please sit down, Baker.” The director pointed at a plain chair.
“Mr. Tyler here is looking for suitable candidates for his project,” the director introduced the visitor. The director’s eyes were liquid blue and with receding grey hair.
Anthony sat down and stared at Tyler’s curls.
“Mr. Baker, we are delighted to inform you we have chosen you to be part of our special program. Let me explain myself, because I do realize this might sound a little bit strange. I am representing a pharmaceutical company called Betox in the USA. About a year ago, our research team made a very important discovery that will change many people’s lives. I know you haven’t been yourself the last couple of years. I also know it is very unlikely you will ever leave this institution. Therefore, referring to your history and the results of your recent assessment with your psychiatrists, we have decided to give you the chance of your life. If you decide to participate in our program, the authorities here in Ireland are willing to give you amnesty.”
“Amnesty? Anthony thought. I haven’t done anything wrong!
“You won’t have to hide the tablets any more, Anthony,” the director said with a grin.
There we go, they have been watching me. That strange man seems genuine though. It is clear I can’t trust the director. However, considering the offer he just got, this might have been the best news Anthony received in a long time. I don’t belong here. This place is for criminals, not for people like me. Had he not protected society from a great disaster? Instead of praising him, they locked him up as if he was the bad guy.
He clearly remembered the day when he opened an interesting looking email message. The attachment contained an image of a man. The man dressed in 19th century clothing, called himself Andrew Crosse.
“Mr. Baker, I know you have been diagnosed with Paranoid Schizophrenia and it is a fact that this is an illness where unfortunately not many people recover from.” Tyler said.
“Are you listening Anthony”? The director asked. He looked directly at Anthony.
“Yes I am listening, not that it is true what you are saying.”
“Well we will let the doctors be the judge of that,” The director claimed
“Like I said we have an offer for you, Mr. Baker. There is a new medicine, which can cure faults in the brain,” Tyler said.
“Is it something similar as the SSRI medicines?” The director asked.
“Something like that, yes, but this new drug has a special ingredient. You only have to take it once.”
“You mean once a day, week, month”?
“No, you only take it once and then you’re done for the rest of your life,” Tyler said proudly.
“Yes that’s because you’re dead then,” Anthony laughed out loud. All of a sudden he found the whole idea so funny he couldn’t stop laughing.
The two other men in the room gazed at each other in amazement. It took a full quarter of an hour before Anthony calmed down. The director ordered three cups of tea in the meantime.
“Mr. Baker, if I may continue to explain the joke, the reason why a patient only has to take the medication once is because he or she is going to be injected with bacteria. And before you interrupt me again, this is in fact a combination of two bacteria. As you might know the human body is full with good bacteria, otherwise we couldn’t survive here on earth.”
“Is it like a virus?” Anthony asked. “Like the one I sent to the Government?”
“Yes, it is. But this one is a healing virus; do you understand what I am saying?” Tyler answered.
“Oh! Yes I do.”
Back in his room, Anthony didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary at first, everything appeared normal. Suddenly he was home in Newbridge. The only window in the room was covered with heavy curtains. In spite of the dark room, Anthony could see the colour of the carpet. It had the exact same colour as in his bedroom when he was a boy.
Then his mother spoke. She stood in the doorframe. He could vaguely make out the lines of her features. He could not understand how he returned home to his parent’s house.
“What’s going on?” Anthony asked in bewilderment. “Where am I, what is going on”?
There was no reply.
He staggered towards the door where his mother stood. He wanted to know whether she was truly there.
“Open the curtains,” A voice demanded.
This isn’t mother speaking, it’s someone else. Someone I can’t see.
“Things will all be over if you do.”
The next second Anthony found himself in his bed. He tried to open his eyes to see what was going on. He now realized he was dreaming.
He felt an extreme force pushing down on his chest. Gasping for air, Anthony was overcome with an intense fear. A paralyzing anxiety made his limbs weak and useless. The force on top of him was formless like a ghost. Anthony was convinced a demon was determined to kill him. He was fighting for his life. The formless creature was completely overpowering him. Why couldn’t he wake up?
He tried to call for help but the words became stuck half way down his throat. He couldn’t speak. He was all alone with the spirit. His mother had left without saying a word.
By now, the spirit moved away from his chest, instead, it wrapped itself around Anthony’s neck, trying to suffocate its victim. Fighting with all his power, Anthony knew he was fighting a losing battle.
“Wake up, sleepy head. It is time to go.”
Anthony felt dizzy. Black spots were dancing in front of his eyes. Somebody had changed his pillow for a stone. Sitting up in his bed the dizziness disappeared. Soon Anthony attention was drawn to the radiators. He listened to the water running through the heated pipes, he was convinced he could hear a soft whisper.
“Hurry up, Baker we don’t have all day. Your plane leaves in less than four hours.”
Relieved the nurse had woken him up, Anthony looked around the room. There stood his desk with his laptop on it, his chair, and his portable TV, which his wife had taken from the attic to accompanying him in his room. Heaving a deep sigh, Anthony was thankful for the first time since he had been incarcerated, thankful to be here. The athletic body of the nurse made him feel safe.
He remembered he was going to LA today. He’d decided to take part in “the project”. Today was going to be the first day of his new life. Finally, somebody was going to help him get rid of the voices.
The sun shone when the front door of the institution opened. A soft breeze blew. Tightly holding on to his belongings, he entered a waiting taxi. Mr. Tyler sat already in the car. He smiled at Anthony and at the same time he fastened his seat belt.
They passed a billboard while driving through the streets of Dublin. Huge eyes stared at him. They looked straight through his mind and soul. The eyes knew what he thought. The eyes were everywhere, on the billboard, on paintings, photos, on TV, and even in newspapers.
The only way he could avoid the eyes was by looking away, or closing his own eyes. Retreating into himself was his sole defence.
Distracted by the eyes, Anthony didn’t notice the ghost of his father entering the taxi. When the ghost spoke, Anthony‘s heart skipped a beat.
The illness and dead of his mother had enlarged the distance between Anthony and his father even more. He often asked himself if he was adopted. His parents had no other children, which was odd for a catholic family in Ireland in the 1970’s. It was normal to have six or eight children in one family unit. His parents were already in their thirties when his conceived him. He wondered whether he was adopted or not, they’d never told him. Thus it surprised him Mr. Baker senior entered the car. Did he want to keep an eye on his son? No matter how far father and son had drifted away from each other, his father had always kept some kind of tag on him.