Meds
Copyright 2015 Amy Cross
All Rights Reserved
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, events, entities and places are either products of the author's imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual people, businesses, entities or events is entirely coincidental.
Published by Dark Season Books
Kindle edition
First published: August 2015
This edition: June 2017
This book's front cover incorporates elements licensed from the Bigstock photo site.
“Welcome to the Overflow. And remember, all roads lead back to Lakehurst.”
At the edge of a ruined town, a burned-out hospital houses one final, functional ward. There, a small group of doctors and nurses tend to patients who have been consigned to the Overflow. Unloved, forgotten by the people who knew them, these are the patients who will never receive visitors. If something happens to them, no-one will ask questions.
When she starts work at Middleford Cross, Nurse Elly Blackstock thinks she's getting a second chance. She soon discovers, however, that this particular hospital is unlike any other. In one of the beds, an old man grapples with the horrors of his past, while in another there's a woman condemned to a life of darkness and silence. Ghosts stalk the corridors, and more ghosts are on the way. And watching over all of this is the hospital's administrator, Nurse Kirsten Winter, a woman who is desperately searching for someone named Annie Radford...
Set in the same twisted world as Asylum, Meds is a dark horror novel about the lengths one woman will go to as she searches for the truth about the voices in her head.
Table of Contents
Prologue
Part One
Overflow
Part Two
The Yard
Part Three
The Woman at the Bar
Part Four
True Pain
Part Five
The Mistake
Part Six
Sobolton
Part Seven
Crashing Down
Part Eight
Return to Lakehurst
Epilogue
Meds
(The Asylum Trilogy book 2)
Prologue
Six months ago
“Hello?”
“Hello. You're through to Kentodyne Industries. How can I help you today?””
“Hi, is that...” She paused, unable to shake the hint of doubt in the back of her mind. “I don't mean to be rude, but are you a real person?”
“I most certainly am.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
“But are -” Pausing, she realized that the question was absurd. “Great,” she continued, with the phone tucked between her ear and her shoulder as she kept her eyes fixed on the road ahead. It was late, well past midnight, and she hadn't seen another car for several minutes. The satnav system showed nothing but a thin gray line with no features marked on either side of the road for a couple of miles in any direction. “I'm sorry, wait, I need to pull over.”
After stopping the car at the side of the road, she switched the engine off, leaving her in pitch darkness on the quiet road. She fumbled for the light above the mirror, before giving up. Darkness was fine.
“Sorry,” she continued, “I've just been going through different menus on your phone system for, like, half an hour now, and I kept getting put through to recorded messages when I really need to speak to an actual human being. You know what it's like, right?”
“And what seems to be your problem today, Ms. Brown?”
“Well, you see I...” She paused. “How did you know my name?”
“I automatically pulled your records from our system, based on the cellphone number you're calling from. Your name is Rachel Brown, account number 4127783. Is that correct?”
“Oh.” Another pause. “Yes. Yes, it is. Right, I guess that makes sense. Okay, see, now the problem is, I got another letter in the mail about my charges for September.” Reaching over to the passenger seat, she opened her briefcase and pulled out the letter, although she couldn't see it very well in the darkness. She tried again to find the light above the mirror, she knew it was there, but finally she had to accept defeat. “The thing is,” she continued, tilting the letter toward the windscreen in a vain attempt to read by the light of the moon, “I paid those charges in advance, I always pay in advance. I'm very organized, so I don't understand why I'm getting reminders about them. Do you see the problem? It happens every month lately and I'm worried it might start showing up on my credit record.”
“You're worried about your credit record,” the woman on the other end of the line said calmly. “I understand that. Let me pull up some more details on your account. Hold, please.”
“Sure,” Rachel muttered, looking out the window. “I'll hold.” The only light for miles around was a thin line of red and white in the distance, snaking through the darkness as traffic took the main freeway from Redburgh to Sobolton. She hated driving in busy traffic late at night, so she always took the rural road home. This alternative route only added twenty minutes or so to her journey, and she always liked to stop for a moment and listen to the silence. Working all day in the office, spending all evening in her apartment, she so rarely got to enjoy pure, unadulterated silence. Leaning back in her seat, she rolled down the window and tried to relax as she listened to the nothingness all around her. Above, silent stars filled the vast sky.
And then, suddenly, she heard something else.
Somewhere out in the darkness, a baby was crying.
“I'm back, Ms. Brown,” the voice on the phone said suddenly. “I've accessed your account details and -”
“Hold on a minute,” Rachel replied, opening the car door, at which point she could immediately hear the baby more clearly, its voice crying out through the cold night air.
“I'm sorry,” the woman said, “I didn't catch that. Could you say it again?”
“Wait,” Rachel continued, climbing out of her car and looking around, before realizing that the sound was coming from somewhere beyond the other side of the road, off in the darkness. Although the night air was cold and breezy, and although she was still wearing the thin blouse and short skirt from work, she made her way around the car and across the dark road, and then she stopped at the edge, listening to the baby's continued cries. A vast expanse of dark, flat land spread out in all directions, with the only movement being the red and white lights of cars on the distant highway, which was too far away to be heard. And yet still the baby was crying. “There's something out here,” she muttered.
“I'm sorry,” the woman said, “I didn't catch that. Could you say it again?”
“Do you hear it?” she asked, holding the phone up so that the woman would be able to hear the sound of the baby crying. “I'm not imagining this, am I? There really is a baby crying.”
“I'm sorry,” the woman said after a moment, as the crying continued, “I didn't catch that. Could you say it again?”
Glancing at the phone, Rachel felt a sense of unease in the pit of her stomach. She put the phone back against the side of her face and listened for a moment to the gentle hiss on the other end of the line.
“Are...” She paused. “Are you sure you're a real person?”
“I most certainly am,” came the reply.
“But are you absolutely positive?”
“I most certainly am. How can I help you today? Please state your customer account number clearly.” There was a brief, almost inaudible click. “You're through to Kentodyne Industries. How can I help you today?”
Sighing, Rachel realized what was happening. “You're not a real person. You're just a more sophisticated menu system. You're analyzing what I'm sayin
g with algorithms and whatever, and parroting things back to me.”
“I'm sorry,” the voice replied, “I didn't catch that. Could you -”
“Forget it,” Rachel muttered, cutting the call.
Stopping for a moment, she stood all alone in the darkness and listened to the plaintive, lonesome sound of the baby crying somewhere nearby. There were no lights for a couple of miles, and no hint of movement either, but the sound was too loud and too clear for there to be any mistake. She spent a couple of minutes just standing and listening, her eyes scanning the impenetrable darkness as the crying continued. She told herself it was none of her business, that she should get back in the car and drive home so she could microwave some dinner, watch some more of her new box-set, and then go to bed, but she couldn't quite bring herself to leave. She'd driven the same route hundreds of times before, and she was fairly certain there were no houses near the road. Besides, there were definitely no lights. Usually, when she left work for the day, she flicked an internal switch in her mind that meant she'd no longer have to worry about dealing with other people. This time, however, she knew she couldn't just leave when a child might be in danger.
“Hello?” she called out. “Is anyone there?”
She waited.
The crying continued.
Reaching down, she slipped out of her high heels and then stepped forward. She instantly felt cold mud soaking through the sole of her tights, but she figured there was no turning back now so she cautiously made her way forward, while using the flashlight on her phone to at least somewhat light the way, although it only picked out the next few meters. The baby was still crying in the distance as Rachel reached the edge of what appeared to be barren, abandoned land, with just a few parched bushes and gnarled tree roots to be seen. She felt hopelessly out of place, as if there was no way she could ever hope to find anything, and she realized she couldn't remember the last time she'd felt soil rather than concrete beneath her feet. Still, with the cellphone still held out, she made her way forward and realized, after a few paces, that she was getting closer to the source of the crying sound.
She could still hear the silence, though. The silence was a separate thing, beyond the baby's cries.
“Hello?” she called out again. “Is anyone here? Is there...”
She paused, feeling a little foolish.
“Hello? Are you okay?”
More and more, she was starting to think that maybe she'd stumbled upon the scene of an accident, or maybe someone had abandoned a child and left it to die. Tilting the phone to spread its light a little further, she half expected to find some wrecked car with everyone dead and mangled save for the crying child. Either that, or a baby carriage dumped in the middle of nowhere. She didn't want to believe that such things were possible, but she also knew that there were people in the world who'd think nothing of abandoning an unwanted kid, and she'd seen much worse things on the news every night. A moment later, she realized that maybe she wasn't alone, that maybe the sound of the baby was being used to lure her into the darkness. She slowed her pace briefly wondering if she should turn back, before realizing that she had to keep going. Despite the growing hint of fear in her belly, she knew she couldn't leave a baby crying.
It had to be a -
She stopped suddenly as she saw the silhouette of a small building set against the starry night sky. She didn't really know how she'd missed the building before, but she couldn't deny it was in front of her now. Tilting her phone, she was able to cast some more light on what turned out to be little more than a two or three roomed shack. Whoever owned the place, they appeared to have abandoned it a long time ago, and the doors and windows were broken and in some cases even hanging loose. Stepping closer, she realized that the sound of a crying baby was definitely coming from inside, but she didn't go to the door, not yet. Instead, feeling increasingly wary, she made her way to the nearest window, which had been broken at some point and was now just a frame with a wooden cross section and a couple of broken shards still wedged in place. The light from the phone lit the shack's outer wall, but the window remained a dark rectangle, with no hint of what was inside other than the sound of the baby crying.
“Hello?” she whispered. “Is anyone there?”
No response.
The crying continued.
The shack was barely big enough for more than a couple of rooms, so she headed to the door and knocked cautiously. After a moment, she nudged it a little further open until she could peer inside. The light from her phone picked out wooden walls lined on one side by a set of bare shelves, next to which there were some small metal hooks. Stepping inside, she felt the floorboards bend slightly, accompanied by a low, spreading creaking sound. The air was colder now and a little damp, and she shone the flashlight around to reveal a small entrance hallway with a couple of open doorways leading further into the shack. Heading over to the nearest doorway, with the floorboards still creaking and bending slightly beneath each step, she looked through and tilted her phone again, which allowed her to just about make out a bare room with no furniture. The whole place seemed abandoned, stripped clean by whoever had left. She took another step forward, but it was clear that the crying baby had to be in the next room along, so she headed over to the door on the far side.
“Hello?” she said cautiously. “I just -”
She reached the next door.
Instantly, the crying stopped.
Pausing, Rachel realized that the only thing she could hear now was the sound of her own breath.
She swallowed nervously.
“Hello?”
Silence.
Stepping forward, she heard the floorboards creaking again. She held her phone up, bringing a little light to the next room. The place was still bare, with no furniture at all, and as she turned toward the window she began to realize that she'd found some kind of old, abandoned home that should probably have been -
She froze as soon as she saw the silhouette.
Over on the far side of the room, sitting by the window and framed against the night beyond, there was an adult figure in a chair, looking down at something in its arms. The figure wasn't moving at all and the entire scene was perfectly still, as if it might even be a dummy. Rachel inadvertently held her breath for a moment, waiting for the figure to move, but nothing came.
In the distance, beyond the window, the lights of the faraway road snaked through the darkness.
“I...” Rachel swallowed hard. All she wanted now was to leave, but she felt she had to say something and, besides, she wanted to be sure the baby was fine. “I'm sorry,” she said finally, “I didn't mean to disturb you, I just... I heard your baby crying and I wanted to make sure it was okay.”
Her voice trailed off as she realized that the figure hadn't reacted at all. The air in the room seemed completely still, as if nothing had disturbed it, not even human breath.
“Are you okay?” Rachel asked, taking another step forward. “My... My name is Rachel Brown, I was just driving past and I happened to stop and I heard the sound of your baby and, well...” She paused, feeling increasingly as if no-one was listening to her. “I heard your baby,” she said again, not really sure what to say, “and... Well, I just thought I'd come and see if everything's okay, that's all. I'm really sorry for coming into your home like this, I did knock but no-one answered and the door was open so...”
Her voice trailed off as she realized no-one was listening.
Silence.
Frozen in place, Rachel felt she should leave, but at the same time she still wanted to make sure that there wasn't a child in danger.
“So is everything okay?” she asked finally.
No response.
She hesitated to hold the phone up, worried about what she might see when she cast light onto the figure in the chair. Her hand was trembling now, but she figured she couldn't just turn and leave, so she slowly raised the phone until the light caught the edge of an old wooden chair. A moment later, she saw the sh
oulder of the person in the chair, and she realized it was a woman wearing an old beige dress with a faded pattern of pink flowers. Somehow, from the pattern of the dress alone, she could already tell that the woman was dead. There was no hint of movement, and the room seemed deathly silent now that there was no longer the sound of a crying baby. Tilting her phone a little more, Rachel saw that specks of dust were drifting through the air.
“Hello?” she said again, desperately hoping against hope that she was wrong, and that the woman would respond. “Are you okay?”
She waited.
No reply.
Slowly, despite the growing sense of concern in her chest, she took another step forward. Just a few feet from the woman now, she tilted her phone toward the chair, and gradually her worst fears were confirmed.
It was the first dead body Rachel had ever seen in real life.
There was almost no skin left on the woman's face, at least not on the side that Rachel could see, although there was just enough to cling to her skull in several dry patches. A towel was wrapped around the top of her head, as if she'd been in the process of drying her hair when she died, and the woman's eyes were now just dark, hollow sockets with patches of wrinkled skin having dried at the edges, while all the flesh of her nose had rotted away to leave a pair of pinched cavities. Too shocked to move, too shocked to run or even breathe, Rachel thought at first that the woman's mouth was open, before realizing instead that her lips were gone and her lower jaw had dropped down and wedged against her collarbone, while most of her teeth had fallen out.
Tilting the phone down a little, Rachel saw that the missing teeth had dropped onto the dried and withered corpse of a dead baby in the woman's arms. One of the teeth had landed just on the edge of the baby's shriveled right eye.
And that was the second dead body Rachel had ever seen in real life.