Virus in us All
-The Mad Chemist-
(Outro)
By
Robby Richardson
Dr. Khydd’s eyes were wide as he stared at me advancing towards him. His hands rose, “Robby, please you don’t have to do this”!
“I don’t know what I am, but I want my life back. I’m taking it back and the only way is to take your life.” I cornered Dr. Khydd as he raised his hands higher. “Please Robby don’t do this . . . I’ll tell you whatever you want”? I could plainly see the fear in his face, “I didn’t expect you to escape”. “Yeah you didn’t expect a lot of things did you? Now tell me . . .” “I know, I know,” he stood up straightening himself up. “You wanna know about Muerte,” “Muerte . . . me . . . I want everything,” raising his hand slightly, “please Robby you have got to give me a minute. It takes awhile to know where to begin”.
“Spill it,” I yelled gripping my fists tighter in my hand. “What is it that you know about Muerte,” I shrugged, “I guess I don’t really understand it myself ”. “Well, tell me what you do know and we can go from there”. “It’s kind of like a rebirth, the death of your old self and embracing who you are truly meant to be . . . whatever it may be”. I watched him nod his head, “it’s a start,” “Well what is it”? “Exactly,” he smiled his pearly white teeth which seemed to twinkle like a corrupt politician. “It’s a virus,” “well there is another secret ingredient and only you know what that is. I’ve been trying to figure that one out for years.” I knew I was confused. “You mean I never,” I watched him shake his head. His perfectly combed hair didn’t fall out of place. Perfection in the simplest form, “you were a hard egg to crack, but you did finally crack but never fully breaking”. I felt myself stumble slightly in my spot. “I . . . I don’t understand,” “Muerte was born from these sessions from our sessions,” “I . . . don’t remember . . . . why can’t I remember,” I grabbed my head almost feeling a migraine coming on to me.
“It’s alright if you can’t, the mind forgets those times darkest to us. The mind is a complex matter. Matters happen with the mind and the complexity could make the mind snap”. “Wait, wait, slow down there Dr. Khydd, what exactly are you telling me”? “Inanity is your reality . . . look,” he exclaimed raising his hand and pointing towards the classroom. I turned to see the rest of the class staring at me. Their eyes were motionless. I felt the utter confusion flowing over me. “I . . . I don’t understand, I mean really don’t”. I waved my hand in front of one of the girl’s faces. Her blond hair hug without the slightest motion as her eyes lay dead without even the slightest flutter. I ran my hands through her hair it was crunchy and stale like the hair of a cheap plastic doll. “Their . . . not, their not real,” my words seemed to lag behind my thoughts as my eyes traveled over every student. “Let me pose you this question Robby. What is real? What is reality? Are we all real? In this case . . . no,” I turned to him still holding the hand of a particular overweight student with hands like hooves.
“Are you telling me that everything . . . everything, you, me, the hospital, my escape isn’t real? Muerte is not real?” “My dear Robby you of all people should know that just because it’s a dream doesn’t mean it isn’t real”. “So that means that you . . . you were never real?” His blue eyes twinkled as he stared at me almost in a pitying expression. “My dear Robby if only you knew the truth behind your dreams. The truth behind this Muerte, oh how simple things could be”. I ran my fingers over my forehead, “so that means that you were never real. All of you are a figment of my imagination”. Raising his finger Dr. Khydd corrected me, “Your dreams . . . and even you don’t know the depths of darkness that lie within them”. For the first time I smiled, “well aren’t you that darkness”? And my face fell when I saw Dr. Khydd begin to laugh. It was low and cold as he gripped his stomach before wiping a tear from his eye. “Just call me Oz and the darkness is like the wizard, a man behind the curtain,” “so he controls you?” Smiling he pointed to me, “and he has a hold over you too”.
It was my turn to laugh, “QUIET,” he shouted looking at me with ice in his eyes. “Your life . . . your purpose . . . your very existence has been for him. Your too shallow minded to even comprehend the hold that he has on you”. Crack! My fist landed in the middle of the desk. “Nobody has a hold of me . . . I control me”. Shaking his head, “you have no idea . . .” “ENOUGH”! My shout rattled the walls as I grabbed a pair f scissors off the desk and advanced towards him. “I want to see him,” shaking his head violently, “that is not possible. I’m afraid he is too busy to meet with you”. I froze slightly before continuing on “well I want to see him”. “And it is like I told you he is . . .” I raised the scissors, “then you serve me no purpose. I’m ending this now”. Raising his hands in protest, “fine, fine, just don’t do anything crazy”! “Crazy, crazy, you made me this way,” his face fell, “oh my dear Robby. I just helped you become who you really are. I helped assist you in finding your Muerte but he brought it out of you”. “Yeah, that’s what I want to know, who he is”? Straightening himself, “well through that door I believe you will find your way”.
I returned the scissors to the desk and headed to the door. I stopped when my hand reached the knob. “Since this is all a dream, I won’t be seeing you again. I’m burying Muerte and with it . . . burying you”. He smiled “if you say so Robby, if you say so”. I gave him one final look as he stood in front of the green chalkboard. I opened the door and walked out into a dark hallway. The door slammed behind me and the light over the glass went out with a pop! I stared down a hallway that I had seen a million times. Doors lined the walls as small windows lined the tops. The hallway was dark and walking past me were people that I had never seen before. All of them were different sizes and shapes. Their eyes were cloudy as they walked like zombies through the entire hallway. Their white robes hung loosely as their feet seemed to drag on the floor with every step.
In truth, I had no idea where I was heading. The hallway ended at a black doorway. My room at the institution had always ended in the middle, a room numbered 616. I stopped, a particular round fellow with a sunken face approached me, “Hey do you know where . . .” He turned to me and immediately placed his finger to his lips, “shh”! I watched him point to the black door and shuffle away without a backwards glance towards me. I turned and noticed the hallway beginning to empty out leaving me alone in it. I shook slightly as I saw the door almost glow in a mournful and ominous way. I reached up and opened it. It was awe inspiring how insanity forms such a complex reality.
I felt like I had walked into a science lab as a large black table sat in the middle. The table was crammed with boiling beakers and large clear tubes transferring a variable rainbow of colored liquid through them. Shelves lined the room their colors and even substances varied as well. In addition to their variety their contents were out of a cheesy 50’s style sci-fi movie. A human hand floated in a jar of green liquid. It’s skin slowly beginning to peel off. My eyes landed on a figure that I had not seen upon my initial inspection. He blended into the background and stood hidden behind the large apparatus of chemicals. He seemed to have not even noticed me as he stared down through a large black and white microscope. For the first time I was unsure of what to say. The trickle of fear that played across Dr. Khydd’s face at the very mention of this man was only noticeable to the sharpest of eyes. Courage fills a man’s body, but fear cancers the heart.
“Well are you just going to stand there or are you going to speak,” his Eastern European accent was rough and forceful. A voice that seemed to demand answers and sting anyone who dare squander his precious time, “You . . . you can see me”? The man raised his eye from his microscope and under the single blue luminescent light his appearance became clear. Lowering a pair of tiny gold spectacles, brown hair slightly askew probably from years of pulling at it, “really Robby . . . every time”? Pushing his spectacles he picked up a pencil and pointed to a shelf in the corner, “I believe what you are looking for is over there.” Returning to his microscope he added “get it and go”.
I furrowed by brow as I moved closer to him. His white coat had turned a faint blue in the light. I tried to study him a crooked nose with a small brown mustache. After getting a full view of him, I realized that I was nothing more than air to him. If I came any closer, I would become like a fly, an annoyance. I turned and headed towards the corner he pointed to. Muerte, it plagued me for a long time, its discovery, its meaning. The label stuck out at me like a red stain in a white rug. “I didn’t bother to look at the other products I found my way to a black pouch. It was soft as velvet and a gray string tied the top together. I felt a fair amount of what felt like a powder inside the bag.
“This, this is Muerte,” I turned and saw the man’s head fall, “really, every single time Robby? I don’t have time for this idiocy”. I walked over, “this is Muerte, this stupid little powder”? “Technically it’s a virus you simple minded . . .” “Alright that’s enough . . .” raising his head towards the dark ceiling, “not this again”. I came forward the bag clenching in my hand. I wanted the scissors. I wanted to cut his head open. He should fear me and fear what I had become. “What the hell is your problem your lucky I don’t,” head still raised, “I can’t deal with this again, I really can’t”! “Can’t deal with what,” he lowered his head, “every time you come in here to get another sack it’s the same thing, the same routine,” I took a step back. “You mean, I . . . I have been here before”? Rolling his eyes, “yes and if you don’t mind can we just cut to the chase, I’m too busy to listen to your threats and complaints . . . can you just leave this time”? “Can you just tell me what you mean when you say Muerte is a virus,” “it infects your entire body and mind . . . changes you, now go”. Returning to his microscope, “so is this a dream,” “no I assure you I am quite real here in the back of your mind. The problem is your mere forgetfulness. It is becoming quite annoying”. I turned grabbing the pouch, “I guess I will see you around then,” the man chuckled, “you have no idea”. “So how do I get back to . . . ?” “Just GET OUT”! His yell rattled the walls and even set a glass beaker to crumble to the ground smashing its contents over the dirty cement floor. I never looked back as the door slammed shut behind me.
I felt my body shoot up from my bed as the rain pattered against my small window. I looked to realize a dark figure coming into my room. I clenched the blankets but relaxed when I heard a voice, “Robby I’m glad to see you’re up”. “Yeah well, I don’t get much sleep these days. So what can I do for you Derek”? “Well I am glad you are up I have been wanting to talk to you . . .” he stopped and leaned in closer, “I wanted to get some more of that stuff . . . what’d you call it, Muerte”? Shaking my head, “one time is enough”. “No you miss understand me. I want to get it for somebody else”. I looked at him skeptically his golf ball like head with over sized ears, “seriously”? Skeptically, “Alright, but listen it’s dangerous if you do it again”. He nodded, “yeah, I know you told me that the first time . . . same price”? I nodded, “come get it in an hour, I’ll put it in my top drawer there”. “Can’t I just get it now,” I shook my head, “no later alright”? Disgruntled he snarled, “You’re lucky I don’t bust you on smuggling in narcotics into an institution like this”. I shrugged, “it’s not a narcotic and do me a favor can you keep it down when you come in next time”? He nodded, “tell me where do you get this stuff from”? I smiled, “you know Derek for the life of me I couldn’t tell you. It just kind of shows up every now and then, I can’t help it”. Looking confused he walked out of the room no smile on his face, I waited until the door was closed. Derek’s footsteps faded and then died.
I walked over and pushed my bed to the side. Deep claw marks stretched over the hidden section of wall that my bed covered. Unclenching the bag from my hand, “Jesus Dr. Khydd you’ve got great timing. The night I need a little Muerte and he shows up”? Opening the black bag of Muerte, I begin to add chunks of dry wall from my own room. I let it mix in with the dust from my dream. Tying up the bag and tossing it in my top drawer, “the only real question” I said to myself. “Where does the chemist get the stuff to give to me”? I let the thought play through my mind as I returned to my bed. I’ll make sure to ask him next time I see him. Maybe he can finally tell me the secret behind Muerte?
The End?