Asylum Page 31

  "I'd prefer to proceed cautiously," she says. "When the time comes, I'll certainly get in touch with the authorities. For now, I'm continuing to look into the matter, and I hope very much that we can soon find out exactly what caused this loss of life. It's entirely possible that there's an innocent explanation for all of this."

  "There needs to be an investigation," I say firmly, refusing to accept that all of this could be forgotten so easily.

  "There will be," she replies. "But what kind of investigation would you prefer, Morris? One where I work to uncover the truth, or one where the police turn up and start unearthing all the bodies? Would you like to see all these bodies being dug up and taken away to be tested and prodded?"

  I pause for a moment. "No," I say.

  "Exactly," she continues. "Those bodies have been through enough. Let's allow them to rest while we uncover the truth in a gentler and less disruptive manner. Doesn't that sound better?"

  "If they were murdered -" I start to say.

  "Let's not jump to conclusions," she replies, interrupting me. "This is Lakehurst. We do things our own way here. If something bad happened, we'll uncover it and decide what needs to be done to resolve the problem. For now, the ground has been blessed again and at least those poor women can rest in peace." She pauses for a moment. "Do you still see her?"

  I take a deep breath. "Yes," I say.

  "Is she here now?"

  "No." The truth is, the vision of the nun still appears to me every day, and I still feel like she's waiting for me to do something. When I first found the headstones, I thought perhaps that was all she wanted, but now I'm sure that there's something else. She guided me to the garden, and she helped me to uncover the headstones, but that was just the first part of my job. Now she's leading me toward another realization, towards some other role that she needs me to take up. For the first time in many years, I feel as if I'm engaged in important work.

  "You've done a good thing," Nurse Winter says. "You should be proud of yourself."

  "It's not over yet," I mutter.

  "We'll get to the bottom of this, Morris," she says. "Just allow me a little time to handle things in my own way. I'll get answers eventually."

  "I always knew there was something wrong with this place," I reply. "A dark feeling. You must have felt it too. Now I know what it is. It's them. It's their spirits."

  "Don't get carried away," she says. "Obviously there was a terrible tragedy here at Lakehurst, but it would be too easy to allow your imagination to run away with you. Be strong, Morris. Don't lose touch with reality." Reaching the main door, she pauses for a moment. "For the good of the patients, if no-one else, I'd urge you to keep quiet about the more fanciful aspects of what's happened. I don't want people talking about ghostly nuns or other superstitious rubbish. That doesn't mean I doubt what you say, Morris, it just means that I have patients to look after. Do you understand?"

  "I'm not losing touch with reality," I say, angry that she'd make such a suggestion. "If anything, I'm doing the opposite. I'm uncovering the truth."

  "A noble occupation," she replies, a slight smile on her lips.

  "Whatever happened here, I want to find out whose fault it was. Someone killed those women."

  "You're jumping the gun again, Morris."

  "I won't rest until the truth is out!" I say, raising my voice a little. I pause for a moment, recovering my composure. "They deserve justice," I add.

  "This conversation has gone far enough," Nurse Winter says coldly, "and to be honest, Morris, I feel you're becoming a little too familiar. You're the janitor. Get on with your work."

  I nod. "I'll go and clean up," I say, turning and walking back toward the garden. That bitch is right about one thing: our conversation isn't going to help, not in the long-term. Nurse Winter doesn't give a damn about the truth.

  "When you're done," she calls after me, "the toilet in room eighteen needs unblocking."

  I don't reply. Sure, I'll get around to unblocking the toilet in room eighteen, but right now I still feel like there's more work to be done in the garden. Twenty-six women are buried under that grass, and something doesn't feel right about this whole situation. Even though the ground is now blessed, it still doesn't seem proper that they should be just left there, their deaths unexplained. Nurse Winter's stalling me, trying to make sure I don't make too much fuss, but I still feel like I should go to the police and tell them about these bodies. Then again, the headstones suggest that whoever buried them wasn't exactly trying to keep things secret, even if weeds ultimately covered everything up. That's why none of this really makes sense, but I'm going to get to the bottom of it. I'm going to make sure that they can all rest in peace.

  When I get to the garden, she's there. Standing by one of the headstones, she doesn't look up when I arrive. There's a kind of sadness about her now that wasn't there before, as if she's overcome by the fact that all these deaths are now out in the open. I still don't know which of the twenty-six women was her, and she seems to pay no particular attention to any of the headstones. Whatever she wants, I'm certain that she's still waiting. I just have to figure it out. If only she could tell me. I'm not a smart man. If I have to figure it out myself, it could take a while.

  "I did my best," I say, even though the words sound hopelessly hollow. "I'm working on it. I'll get there eventually. You just need to give me more time."

  She doesn't even look over at me.

  "I promise," I say. "If it's the last thing that I do, I'll help you. I'll make it my life's work. You can trust me."

  Still, she doesn't look at me. Why can't she just give me some indication that she recognizes the good work that I've done so far? I stare at her, marveling at her beauty, and inevitably my eyes drift down to her chest. If she were alive, I'd have those clothes off her and I'd suckle on her nipples. Perhaps these are impure thoughts, but I figure I've earned a moment of fantasy. I've always been like this: weak to the pleasures of the flesh, easily led by thoughts and desires. The fact that I even thought of this gorgeous creature in sexual terms is yet another sign that my soul is rotten.

  "I'll give you whatever you want," I say quietly, almost begging for direction. "I'll be your servant."

  Suddenly she turns to look at me. I try to read the expression in her face. Is she amused by me? Is she thankful for everything I've done so far? It's useless: how can a lowly, stupid janitor hope to know what such a wonderful creature is really thinking? The mere fact that she has deigned to look at me is, in itself, a blessing, and I should be careful not to start demanding too much. I'm a sinner, and sinner's don't get to ask angels for anything.

  "The ground's blessed now," I continue, stumbling a little with my words. "That's the important thing. I don't know what you want, but we're getting there now, aren't we?" My words sound so weak, even to me, but right now I don't know what else I can do. I'm just the janitor, after all. I shouldn't even cast my gaze upon such a perfect creature. She must view me with utter contempt, and I deserve nothing more than her pity. "I'll leave you in peace," I say, turning and heading back to the main building. My bones ache and I'm more tired than I've ever been before. I can't carry on like this for much longer. Something has to change.

  Once I'm inside, I head through to the main ward and there are immediately plenty of jobs for me to do. Within a minute, I've been given orders by Nurse Perry, Dr. Sospiri and Dr. Inoue. This whole damn place would fall down without me; I'm the most important person here, yet I'm also the one who's ignored and forgotten. The staff here spend their days dealing with the patients, but do any of them care about more important things? Do any of them care about the sanctity of the cemetery? No. They just get on with their jobs and assume that the rest of the hospital will carry on working as normal. If I just stopped doing my job, if I walked out or vanished, Lakehurst would grind to a halt within hours. There'd be chaos.

  As I start cleaning up the first of several minor accidents, I can't stop thinking about how none of the patients he
re know what's been going on. They just live their lives in complete ignorance, shuffling from one room to another, heavily medicated and with no apparent hope of getting out of this place. In all the time I've been at Lakehurst, I've never once seen a patient declared ready to go back to the real world. They just stay here until they die. No-one even pretends that they're here to get better. When they finally pass on, they're dumped in the cemetery. I can't imagine what God thinks about this place, but he must despair when he sees his children being left to rot in unhallowed ground.

  As the day wears on, the jobs pile up and I find myself getting busier and busier. My aching bones slow me down, and by early evening I'm starting to get so tired, I feel as if I could drop dead at any moment. I can't stop, though, because there's still so much to do and I know that it's important to keep pushing on. Occasionally I find myself thinking about the ghost, wondering if she's still out there in the garden, and by the time night falls I realize I haven't seen her for hours. Perhaps the blessing of the ground was what she wanted after all? Suddenly I realize that maybe I won't be seeing her again; maybe I did what she wanted, and now she'll leave me alone. The thought causes a great sadness to enter my heart, but at the same time it pleases me to think that perhaps she can be at peace now. After all, she's waited long enough, and we all deserve to get what we want in the end. No-one should have to die without first tasting glory.

  Disposing of a body is easy. I don't know why so many people have problems. All you need is acid. I've got rid of twenty-three so far, all the same way. Fucking simple. Those people who get caught? They must want to get caught. There's no other explanation. Or maybe I just have a natural gift for this kind of thing?

  Chapter Five

  One month ago.

  God knows what's going on downstairs, but it sounds like mayhem. I've been up on the second floor all morning, fixing a small hole in one of the walls, when I hear shouts followed by the sound of people running around. At first I ignore it: this place is a madhouse, literally, at the best of times, and there's always some kind of fuss going on. I prefer to keep out of the way. When something happens, I wait until it's over before I go and investigate. I've cleaned up countless blood-stains, for example, but I've never actually seen anyone get hurt. But this commotion sounds different; it sounds as if something serious is happening down there.

  Sighing as I put my tools away, I wander down the stairs and find that a group of nurses and guards have gathered in the main hallway, close to the front door. Since it started snowing a couple of days ago, Lakehurst has become increasingly chaotic. I've been busier than ever, fixing various problems, and now it looks like there's a full-scale rebellion going on downstairs. Whatever's happening, I'm sure it'll be messy and I'm sure I'll have to work late into the night to fix it.

  "What's wrong?" I ask.

  "Check every window!" Nurse Perry shouts at me. "There's a madman trying to get in!"

  I stare at her.

  "Do it!" she shouts.

  As Dr. Sospiri hurries out of one of the rooms, I head over to the front door and give it a good tug, to make sure it's locked. I check all the windows in the hallway, and then I start checking the rooms one by one. Lakehurst is an old building that needs a lot of work, but one of the few big projects of recent years was a program that saw all the windows reinforced. This means that anyone outside will be unable to smash their way in. The place is like a fortress, mainly because of a need to ensure that patients can't get out, but on this occasion I guess the reinforced windows will stop the intruder from getting in.

  "What are you doing?" asks a voice behind me.

  I turn to find Nurse Winter standing in the doorway. "Checking the windows," I say.

  "The windows are kept permanently locked," she replies calmly.

  "Maybe one's been overlooked," I say. "Can't be too careful." I turn back to the window and double-check that it's locked.

  "Your hands are shaking," she says.

  I pause, and I see that she's right. Lately my hands have been shaking a lot while I work. I've come to ignore it, and it's not really a problem, but it's slowly getting worse. Even from the other side of the room, Nurse Winter can see that I'm starting to deteriorate. "Yes," I say slowly.

  "Why?" she asks.

  I turn to her. "I'm not getting any younger," I say.

  She frowns. "Are you too infirm to work?"

  "No," I say.

  "If you start having problems," she replies, "let me know. I'll hire someone else."

  "What about me?" I ask. "I have nowhere to go."

  "I'm sure you'll find somewhere," she says. "You must inform me if you realize you're unable to work."

  "Of course," I say.

  She pauses for a moment, and I can see that she's suspicious. She's probably already working out how best to find someone to take my place, which means my time here at Lakehurst is running out. "When you've done this," she says eventually, "I need you to go down to the basement and make sure Jerry's up to speed on what's happening, okay?"

  I nod, getting back to my work with the windows. As Nurse Winter walks away, I find myself staring out for a moment at the thick blanket of snow that covers everything. I've never seen such bad weather, and the idea of some madman running around out there is hard to believe. It's not my place to question things about here, but I can't help wondering whether this whole fuss is the result of some patient's wild imagination. I know how easily Chinese whispers can spread. I wouldn't mind betting that this excitement is a complete waste of time. Still, I don't mind checking the windows. There are worse jobs.

  This one's different. She's beautiful, beyond all belief. Since I started killing holy ladies, I've struggled with my conscience. Staring at this gorgeous woman's naked body, I find it hard to believe that such a perfect figure could ever have existed. She stares up at me with wide-open dead eyes. If only I could have made her understand.

  Chapter Six

  As the snow continues to fall, I stand in the garden and survey the mess. All around me, there are broken and shattered bones. That creature - that monster - has caused such carnage out here, I doubt it can ever be restored. It's been a week now since the strange, raging man appeared at the windows of Lakehurst. At first, we feared that he'd somehow found a way to get inside, but eventually we accepted, after searching the place high and low, that he must have simply gone away. Everyone is still a little jittery, and I confess that I still don't entirely understand what happened, but none of that is really my concern. Right now, all I care about is the cemetery. Just weeks after this little garden was reconsecrated, it has been torn up again. It's as if Lakehurst can't stand to have hallowed ground in its midst, and has brought in terrible forces to tear everything apart and bring damnation back upon this place. The holy cannot survive here. Fixing the cemetery is not an option. It would just be destroyed again. It's Lakehurst itself that's the problem. I can't help thinking that the madman was a manifestation of the building's hatred of all things that are good and holy.

  I do what I can. I fetch a wheelbarrow and bring it out into the garden. There's nothing noble about this, but I figure it's my only option. I carefully and methodically gather up the bones of the nuns one by one, placing them carefully in the wheelbarrow and trying to show some respect. I don't really have any idea what to do with the bones once they've been collected, but I know one thing for sure: they can't remain here. Lakehurst itself is a place that has been damned by dark forces, and the bones of these holy women will always be in danger. I must get them away from Lakehurst, but how I'll do that is another matter. I can no longer drive, not with my failing eyesight and my shaking hands, but perhaps I can simply wheel the bones out to the perimeter and bury them beyond the line that separates Lakehurst from the rest of the countryside around here. It's not the perfect solution, but it might work.

  Once I have the bones together, I wheel them back around the rear of the house and into a small yard. It takes a few trips before they've all been recovered, a
nd I can't be absolutely certain that I've got everything. I spend several hours trying to sort the bones out and count them, but eventually I give up on the bones from the body and I focus instead on the skulls. It's an imperfect solution, but I figure that if I can just get the skulls away from Lakehurst and onto hallowed ground, that would be something. Soon I've arranged all twenty-six skulls and I find myself staring at them, wondering which of them is 'my' nun. These were once real people, holy people, and their bones have been allowed to sit on this cursed land for far too long. One way or another, I'll get them away from here.

  "Such a tragedy," says a voice behind me.

  I turn to find that there's nobody around. I'm not crazy, though: I know I heard someone.

  "Do not look to blame any man or woman," the voice continues. "This is the doing of Lakehurst itself."

  I spin around, trying to find the source of the voice. Someone must be playing a trick on me. "Hello?" I call out. "Where are you?"

  "Put your hands over your ears," the voice says. "Tightly."

  I do what he says.

  "Now can you tell where I am?" he continues, and it's clear that the voice comes from inside my mind.

  "Who are you?" I ask, realizing that anyone who observes me will think I'm insane.

  "I'm a friend," the voice says. "I've come down to help you."

  "I don't -" I start to say, but then I realize that this is crazy. There can't be a voice in my mind, it's just not possible. This is the kind of thing that happens to madmen. I turn and look over at the skulls.

  "You're suspicious," the voice continues. "That's fine. I understand. All my friends are suspicious when I first speak to them, but I can assure you that I'm on your side. I'm on the side of everyone who recognizes the importance of truth and beauty. I only want to help you achieve what you know in your heart to be the right thing. We have to work together to save these bones, and to make sure that nobody else can ever suffer in the same way. This place is possessed by Satan himself, and you must help me defeat him. I have no hands, and no body. I must work through you."