12
I dreamed about a
ghost with bad taste in clothes, a box that was a house, and Dan in
an orange jumpsuit. I think he was an FBI agent.
Oh yeah, and while
it was on a roll, my drug-muddled subconscious tossed in a bit
about a syringe as big as a banana. No surprise there.
The image was burned
into my brain. So was the memory of Doctor Gerard leaning over me,
grinning, as the needle pierced my skin. My head told me none of it
was real, that it was all something I’d experienced hours (or was
it days?) before. That didn’t keep the rest of me from reliving
every terrifying moment. Or from feeling exactly like I had back
there in Doctor Gerard’s office when that syringe penetrated my
skin and the nasty, mind-numbing drug inside it coursed through my
veins.
First, fire spread
up and down my arm. Then it rushed into my chest and made my heart
feel as if it were pumping lava. Every muscle in my body
contracted. My head felt as if it was going to explode. My tongue
swelled. My eyes flew open.
I’m pretty sure
that was the point where I sat up and screamed.
It was also when I
realized there was no one around to hear me.
I was alone in a
nearly pitch-dark place, and with nothing else to go on, I relied
on instinct and instinct alone. My instincts told me I wasn’t in
my hotel room. It wasn’t my apartment, either, or any part of the
Gerard Clinic I’d ever seen. For one confused minute, as I fought
to make sense of my surroundings and couldn’t, panic washed over
me. I hate to admit it, but for that one minute, I let it. Too
tired to fight, too frightened to care, I gave in to the
out-of-control sensations. My heartbeat raced and my breaths came
in gasps and I curled up into a tight little ball on the mushy
mattress where I found myself. I knew giving up and giving in like
that was a sign of weakness, but honestly, I didn’t give a damn.
I only knew that I felt like hell, I didn’t know where I was, and
I was really, really scared.
Maybe I fell asleep.
I can’t say. I only know that by the time I stopped crying and
opened my eyes again, my head wasn’t pounding nearly as hard, and
there were thin slices of gray morning sneaking in through the
mini-blinds. In the anemic light, I saw that I was in a hospital
room. There was a white, standard-issue dresser across from the bed
where I lay in a snarl of sweat-clammy sheets. There was a metal
chair to the left of the dresser. On the other side of it was a
bigger, darker rectangle that I knew must be a doorway. The door
was closed. Another door on the wall to my right was open, and from
where I lay, I could see into a tiny bathroom.
None of it looked
the least bit familiar.
“Not to worry.â€
The comforting words that scraped their way out of my parched
throat didn’t do their job. When I untangled myself from the
blankets, my hands shook, and when I swung my legs over the side of
the bed, I knew I had to take my time. My knees were weak, my legs
were shaking, but that didn’t stop me from standing. Or from
collapsing right back on the bed.
“Not to worry,â€
I said again, because at that point, lying to myself sure beat
facing the truth. “Snap out of it, Pepper. There’s nothing
weird going on. There’s a logical explanation for all of this.
Something went wrong when Doctor Gerard gave you that shot. Yeah,
yeah, that’s what happened. Doctor Gerard called the paramedics.
The way a nice, responsible, professional doctor would. They took
you to a hospital. A nice, responsible, professional Chicago
hospital. Like the one on ER.â€
That made me feel
better, and feeling better, I figured I’d ring for the nurse,
find out what was going on, and hightail it out of there as fast as
I could. I wasn’t made of money, and the health care benefits at
Garden View left a lot to be desired. The sooner someone called a
cab for me and I got back to my hotel, the happier I’d
be.
Too bad I couldn’t
find one of those nurse call buttons.
Or a phone, for that
matter.
And though my purse
was on the chair across from the bed, my cell phone wasn’t in
it.
I grumbled my
displeasure and decided on a more direct approach. I went to the
door and turned the knob.
The door was
locked.
This was not
something I’d ever seen the nice, responsible, professional folks
on ER do, but was I worried? Well, not
too much. Just like there had to be a logical reason for me being
in the hospital, there had to be a just-as-logical one for my door
being locked. Maybe those nice paramedics who brought me there
realized Doctor Gerard was acting weird. Maybe they locked the door
to keep him away from me. Or maybe I had something contagious. I
pushed up the sleeve of my peachy sweater and scratched my arm even
though it didn’t itch. Determined to make sense of the whole
thing, I found a light switch and flicked it on.
Light on, light off,
it didn’t make a whole bunch of difference. The door was still
locked, there still wasn’t a phone in sight, and damn, I still
didn’t know where I was.
I grumbled my
displeasure, considered my options, and chose the first one that
came to mind. I cranked open the blinds.
I found myself
looking over a sloping roofline and gingerbread woodwork where snow
swirled and icicles hung from the gutters like dragon’s teeth. A
couple stories down was a wide expanse of windswept land. The grass
was frosty and the landscape was dotted with trees, their branches
bare at this time of year and their limbs waving madly in the wind.
Beyond that, the waters of what must have been Lake Michigan
churned into white-caps and sent sprays of ice crystals into the
air. There wasn’t another building in sight. Or another person,
for that matter.
If this was Chicago,
it was a rustic, desolate part of town that wasn’t on any tourist
map.
“Yeah, a part of
Chicago that doesn’t exist.â€
My words were no
more enthusiastic than my mood, and my mood went from merely
terrible to truly awful, because the second I looked out the window
I realized something else. I mean, something other than the fact
that I wasn’t in Chicago anymore.
There were bars on
the windows.
This, I told myself,
could not be a good thing.
Â
Â
The next time I woke
up, it was morning, though I couldn’t say if it was the same
morning or the next. The sun (at least what I could see of it from
behind the bank of heavy clouds that hung close to the roiling lake
outside my window) was higher in the sky than it had been last I
looked. And I was as hungry as if I hadn’t eaten in
days.
“Hey!†I went to
the door and pounded on it. “Anybody out there? I could use some
breakfast in here.â€
I didn’t get an
answer. Not right away, anyway. I was all set to start pounding
again when a buzzer sounded somewhere in the distance and my door
popped open.
“Well, it’s
about time.†I stepped into a long, bare hallway with a green
tile floor, one of those fake panel ceilings, and walls that were
painted institutional beige. I am no decorator (I mean, that’s
what those of us who can afford it—or at least those of us who
used to be able to afford it—pay professionals for, right?), but
even I knew that with the added pizzazz of some paintings, maybe a
wall hanging or two, and the right upholstery on the furniture, the
color combination might have worked. The way it was, there were no
pictures on the walls at all. There was no furniture around,
either. In fact, there was nothing to relieve the starkness of the
hallway except a utilitarian metal desk all the way at the far end.
Behind the desk was a burly guy with short-cropped hair and a neck
as big as a linebacker’s. He was wearing white scrubs and a
solemn expression that clearly said he had better things to do than
be bothered by me.
Like I was going to
let that stop me?
My legs were still
wobbly, but step by careful step, I closed in on him.
“What’s the
deal?†I asked. “Where am I? And what’s going on? And while
you’re explaining all that, you can tell me where breakfast is,
too. And the day spa. There is a day spa, isn’t there?†I
didn’t think there was, but a girl can hope, right? Besides, I
thought maybe the request would get a rise out of him.
I was wrong. His
name tag said he was Henry. Which is more than Henry himself had to
say. He hardly spared me a glance before he went back to looking
over the medical chart in his hands.
“Hey! Earth to
Henry!†I rapped on the desk to get his attention. “I asked
what was going on here. And where’s Doctor Gerard, anyway? The
last time I saw him—â€
“Thaddeus will
take you down to breakfast.†Henry delivered this news just as
the doors to the elevator to the right of the desk swished open.
Another white-clad guy stepped out. Aside from the fact that his
name tag was different, Thaddeus could have been Henry’s twin. He
was just as big, just as burly, and he was wearing scrubs, too. He
didn’t greet me; he just stepped back into the elevator and stood
aside. I knew an invitation when I saw one. I also knew that
refusing was not an option.
Soon the elevator
bumped to a stop and the doors slid open. Thaddeus motioned me to
get out, but he didn’t follow. I found myself in another hallway
with another metal desk at the end of it. The guy behind it was
named Adam, and he didn’t smile when he stepped up at my
side.
Together, we walked
down a corridor as long and as bare as the one outside my room,
crossed what would have looked like a lobby if the windows
weren’t covered and the door wasn’t barred, and headed down
another corridor identical to the one we’d just come out of. The
only difference was that in this one, I could smell the heavenly
scent of bacon.
Oh, it should have,
but not even the thought of those covered windows and that barred
door was enough to ruin my appetite. That’s how hungry I
was.
I stepped up the
pace and followed my nose to a room on my left. The place was as
big as a gymnasium, and like a gymnasium, there were no windows in
it. There was one long wooden table set up in the middle of the
room and ten chairs placed around it.
I did a quick count.
There were only four people seated there, an empty chair between
each. Without a word to any of them, Adam showed me to my place and
disappeared into an open doorway across the room. I hoped it was to
get me breakfast. Wherever he went, I had a funny feeling he
wouldn’t be gone long. I had to get down to business. And
fast.
“Hi. I’m
Pepper.†I slid into the empty chair to my left, next to a
stick-thin woman with stringy blond hair and dark, dark roots, and
when nobody bothered to greet me—or even look at me for that
matter—I knew this wasn’t going to be easy. I beat my brain for
some idea to get their attention and was surprised (not to mention
grateful) when a memory bubbled up from beneath the ocean of drugs
that had been pumped into my veins.
“Oscar Zmeskis,â€
I said, and waited for one of the people at the table to show some
kind of reaction. “Are any of you Oscar Zmeskis?â€
When no one
responded, I struggled to remember the rest of the names Sister
Maggie had given me. “Becka Chance?â€
Hopeful, I looked at
the woman next to me, who was wearing a hospital gown that hung
from her scrawny shoulders. She, however, was busy staring into a
bowl of oatmeal that looked as if it had gone cold long ago. “Are
you Becka Chance? Or maybe Athalea Misborough? I can’t tell you
how happy I am to finally see somebody. What’s the deal here? How
long have you been here? What day is it? Where’s the
phone?â€
The woman continued
to stare into her oatmeal.
I checked to make
sure Adam was still busy before I changed seats again. This time, I
found myself next to a middle-aged guy with open sores on his arms.
He was drooling. I made it quick. “Alan Grankowski? Leon Harris?
Lony Billberger?†I tried the names out on him, and when he
didn’t flinch, I moved to the other side of the
table.
My third candidate
was sound asleep, so I opted for breakfast guest number four, who
was a thirtyish African American guy with bad teeth and a maroon
cardigan over his hospital gown. He just so happened to be talking
to his pancakes when I showed up. In my book, that was a good sign.
At least he was talking.
“So, what’s
going on here?†I asked him. I looked over my shoulder. Still no
sign of Adam, though I could hear the rumble of his voice and the
clank of dishes as he loaded a tray that I prayed was mine. “Why
are we here? And where is here, anyway? Who are all these people?
What do they want from us?â€
He looked up from
his pancakes. “I’m one of the lucky ones. I see people who
aren’t there.â€
“Yeah, me too.â€
I heard Adam thank someone for helping him. His voice sounded
closer. I didn’t have much time. “When did you get here?
What’s your name? And how do we get out? I mean, all the doors
are locked, and the windows are barred and—â€
Adam appeared in the
doorway, but lucky for me, he was in the process of saying
something to someone back in the kitchen, and he was looking over
his shoulder. By the time he finished up and arrived with my
breakfast, I was waiting in my original seat.
Adam, it seemed, was
not as dumb as his WrestleMania physique made him look. He eyed my
breakfast companions carefully, and it wasn’t until he’d
satisfied himself that they looked just as spaced out now as they
had when he went into the kitchen that he set a plate of food down
in front of me.
The bacon was too
greasy, and I am always careful about how many fat grams I
consume.
The eggs were too
runny, and I got the willies just looking at them.
The toast was rye,
and I much prefer wheat.
I dug in practically
before the plate was on the table.
“Doctor Gerard
wants to see you after breakfast,†Adam said.
“Great.†I
wasn’t sure if I was talking about the bacon I wolfed down or
about finally having the chance to confront the doctor. “’Cause
I want to talk to him, too.†I swallowed down a plastic forkful
of scrambled eggs and talked with my mouth full. “And another
thing—â€
Another fork filled
with eggs was halfway to my mouth when something just outside the
door of the dining hall caught my eye.
I was out of my
chair practically before Adam could say, “Hey, you’re not
allowed to get up,†and out the door long before Mr. Muscle-Bound
had a chance to stop me.
The way I figured
it, that gave me a couple seconds to talk to Ernie before Adam
caught up.
I ignored the big
bruiser escorting him and plucked Ernie’s sleeve. When he stopped
and turned to me, his eyes were glassy and his expression was
blank. Just like the expressions on the faces of the people back in
the dining hall.
My stomach went
cold.
“Ernie, it’s me,
Pepper. You remember, from the alley next to the clinic.†The big
guy accompanying Ernie put a hand on his left arm. I held on
tighter to his right. “I came to find you. Are you all right? How
long have you been here? You didn’t tell Doctor Gerard you can
see ghosts, did you, Ernie? I’m sorry I ever mentioned that to
you. I should have known you’d use it to get into the study.
Please, tell me this isn’t my fault, that you
didn’t—â€
“Gettin’ three
squares a day. And a nice, warm bed.†Ernie grinned, and for just
a second, his eyes brightened with recognition. “Did you bring
Alberta?â€
I remembered the
photograph I’d left in the box in the alley. “She’s back at
home, Ernie. She’s waiting for you. She says you need to get back
to her and—â€
Turns out that for a
big guy, Adam was pretty quick on his feet. He lumbered out into
the hallway and latched onto my arm.
Like that was enough
to make me let go.
“You’re going to
see her again,†I told Ernie even as his attendant tugged him
away. “I promise you that, Ernie. You’re going to see Alberta
again.â€
“There’s no
fraternizing.†Adam’s grip tightened enough to make me wince.
He yanked me away from Ernie, and helpless, I watched the other guy
lead Ernie away.
“Doctor Gerard is
not going to be happy when he hears about this,†Adam
said.
“Great. Fine.â€
It wasn’t easy shaking off his grip, but somehow, I managed.
Maybe that’s because Adam wasn’t used to the folks around there
fighting back. At the same time I backed out of his reach, I glared
at him. “Let’s go see Doctor Gerard, why don’t we? Because
I’ll tell you what, I’m plenty anxious to talk to him. I’ll
bet my attorney will be, too. You know, the guy who’s going to
file the couple dozen lawsuits that are going to put this place out
of business.â€
Did Adam take me
seriously? Darned if I know. But my comment did make him snap to.
He motioned me to get moving, and maybe he did believe the line of
attorney bullshit, because he was really careful to keep his
distance. Side by side, we walked back the way we’d come, through
the locked-down lobby and back into the wing of the building where
I’d woken up that morning.
A few minutes later,
I found myself outside a closed office door.
“Doctor Gerard?â€
Adam tapped on the door politely. “Patient JK6345 is
here.â€
The door snapped
open, and once again, I found myself face-to-face with Hilton
Gerard. I had planned on playing it cool, tossing around that
attorney threat again in that
oh-so-unconcerned-because-I-know-I’ve-got-you-by-the-balls tone
of voice I’d learned at my parents’ knees. I might have
succeeded, too, if my arm didn’t ache from where Adam grabbed me.
And if I didn’t remember that spacey, stripped-of-all-humanity
look on Ernie’s face.
I popped off like a
science fair rocket.
“You son of a
bitch!†I pushed past the doctor and into his office so I had
more room to stare him down. “What are you doing to the people
here? Why are they so out of it? And while we’re on the subject,
what happens to them after you’re done with them, huh? You
can’t just scoop people up and think that nobody’s ever going
to miss them, and—â€
My own words sunk in
and cut me off short.
“Of course you can
scoop them up and nobody misses them.†Astounded and appalled, I
grappled with the idea. “They’re homeless. Nobody’s going to
look for them. That’s why you started that clinic of yours in the
first place. You aren’t a great humanitarian, you’re a son of
a—â€
“Yes, yes. You
said that before.†Hilton Gerard’s smile was as gracious as if
we were trading quips over canapés. “And may I remind you, you
also were kind enough to share with me that you’re not from this
area, that your father is currently and unfortunately incarcerated,
and that your dear mother is somewhere in Florida. My, my, but to
me, it sounds like—â€
“Nobody’s going
to be looking for me anytime soon, either.†My insides froze. The
next second, the ice melted under a healthy dose of anger.
“That’s not true. Plenty of people know I’m here. There’s
Doris and Grant from the conference. And my boss, Ella. She’s the
one who sent me here in the first place. And Quinn, he knew I was
coming to Chicago, too, and just for the record, he’s one tough
cop. He’ll be plenty interested in hearing about those folks in
the dining hall. You’ve got them drugged, don’t you? Every
single one of them.â€
“Of course
they’re drugged.†Doctor Gerard sneered. “They are mentally
ill, after all. They need their medications.â€
“And you need them
to be compliant. Why?â€
“Pepper, Pepper,
Pepper...†The doctor signaled Adam to leave and close the door
behind him, and after it clicked shut, he got down to business.
“You know what I’m looking for, don’t you?â€
There didn’t seem
to be much point in denying it. “Ghosts. You’re looking for
someone who can contact the Other Side. Why?â€
His shrug said it
all. “Why not? Let’s face it, if I can prove there is life
after death, well, it would be the most incredible scientific
breakthrough of this century. Or any century for that
matter.â€
“You want to go
down in history?â€
He laughed. “You
are a shallow thing, aren’t you? I’m not looking to see my name
in lights, not for finally being the one who can put the living in
touch with the dead. But think about it, Pepper. If I did that,
think about all the great things I could
accomplish.â€
I tried. And
couldn’t think of one. “In my experience, the only thing
dealing with the dead gets you is trouble.â€
“Maybe because you
haven’t been dealing with the right dead. Or not in the right
way. What if . . .†He tipped his head back, thinking. “What if
we could make contact with the spirit that was William Shakespeare?
If he could give us the words of his next drama?â€
“Not a good
idea.†I knew this for certain because I’d already dealt with a
sorcerer who was channeling a rock star’s songs. I remembered all
too clearly that the last time I saw him, he had a knife sticking
out of his chest. “Things like that never end
pretty.â€
“All right, what
about the ghost of Albert Einstein, then? Think of what he could
tell us. Or the spirit of some unsung hero of a doctor who died
just before he had a chance to complete a study that would have
cured cancer? Don’t we owe it to the world to be open to the
possibilities?â€
“And you think I
can help you?â€
“Dan
does.â€
“Dan
doesn’t—†It was hard to get the words past the sudden sour
taste in my mouth. Something told me it had nothing to do with the
scrambled eggs. “Dan would never be all right with what you’re
doing to those people in the dining hall.â€
“You think so?â€
Doctor Gerard looked at me hard, but he didn’t wait for me to
answer. He got up and went across the room, and when he rummaged
around in a file cabinet over there, he turned his back on
me.
I saw my chance and
made a move toward the phone on his desk.
“I really
wouldn’t do that if I were you.†When he turned back around,
the doctor was holding another big, honkin’ syringe. “You have
to have the PIN code to get an outside line,†he
said.
“I’ll bet.†I
backed up toward the door and watched him close in on me with that
syringe in his hands. “Look . . .†I ran my parched tongue over
my dry lips. “If you’re looking to contact the dead and do all
those great things you talked about doing, I really might be able
to help you.â€
“I know
that.â€
“Then you really
wouldn’t want to—†My butt slammed against the door knob.
“You wouldn’t want anything to happen to me. I mean, if I’m
your best bet, you want me to cooperate, right?â€
“Oh, you’ll
cooperate.†Doctor Gerard closed in on me.
“But I can tell
you stuff.†I watched both the doctor and the syringe get closer.
“I can tell you about Gus, the first ghost I met. And Didi. I
helped her get recognition for a book she wrote fifty years ago.
And—†He was right in front of me now, close enough for me to
see the flare of his nostrils. “I can’t do that if I’m
drugged.â€
“You’re
absolutely right.†Doctor Gerard backed off, and I breathed a
sigh of relief. Right before I yelped when he lunged at me and
stuck that needle in my arm.
“But you see,
Pepper . . .†When my knees gave out, he was there to catch me.
“It’s not the stories of how you work with the dead that I’m
interested in. It’s duplicating your Gift. And I can’t do that
. . .†He dropped me into the closest chair. “Not until I get
inside your brain.â€