Asylum Read online

  "Thanks," I say. It's a stupid answer, but I'm already feeling pretty overwhelmed by this place. It's my first job since leaving college, but it wasn't exactly my first choice. I was hoping to go into pediatrics, perhaps helping children during post-operative recovery. But while my grades were pretty good, I couldn't get a good recommendation from any of my lecturers, so I had to make do with what I could find, and all I could get was this entry-level position at an out-of-the-way New England asylum.

  "Dr. Campbell's office is along the corridor, first left," the guard says, slamming the door shut behind me and sliding the bolt across.

  I turn and look at the door. It's huge, and it seems to be kept locked at all times. I guess that makes sense. After all, you can't exactly have patients wandering in and out whenever they feel like it. Nevertheless, I hadn't anticipated the extent to which I'd feel like I'm also locked away in here. This is an old building, with large metal pipes running along the high ceiling. I've heard that there's been an asylum on this plot of land for nearly two hundred years. That's a lot of crazy people who must have come through the door.

  I walk along the corridor, determined not to look nervous. After all, first impressions are crucial and I can't afford for any of the patients to spot weakness in my eyes. I have to look strong, even if inside I'm terrified. If I can just get it right, I can spend six months or a year here, stay out of trouble, get a good reputation, and then use that reputation as a springboard to find a better job somewhere else. Anywhere else.

  "Kirsten Winter?" asks a voice nearby. I turn to see a friendly-looking doctor leaning out of an office doorway. "You must be," he says, smiling. "I remember that face from your personnel file. I'm Dr. Arthur Campbell. Please come into my office, won't you?" With that, he ducks back into the room.

  I take a deep breath and double-check that my uniform is pristine. I want to appear professional, so that Dr. Campbell feels he can have confidence in me. Striding toward his office with a (faked) air of confidence, I walk through the door and somehow manage to catch the heel of one of my shoes on a loose tack; I fall over and clatter to the ground, banging my elbow and letting out a yelp in the process.

  "My God, are you okay?" Dr. Campbell asks, rushing over and helping me to my feet.

  "Yes, thank you," I say, smoothing my uniform down. I can't begin to describe how embarrassed and stupid I feel. There's no way Dr. Campbell can possibly believe that I'm trustworthy or reliable now. He must think I'm a complete idiot; someone clumsy, a fool who'll drop everything she's given. I brush dust and fluff from my (now creased) uniform, and I reflect that all my careful planning has gone out the window.

  "Don't feel bad," Dr. Campbell says, walking over to his desk. "Most new employees try to act perfect when they arrive. I see through it straight-away." He looks at me and smiles again. "No-one's ever prostrated themselves on my floor with quite such enthusiasm. I shall take it as a good sign."

  "Thank you," I say, hoping desperately that my cheeks aren't bright red from embarrassment.

  Dr. Campbell picks up a folder from his desk and glances at it. I realize with dread that it must be my personnel file. "Good qualifications," he says, "and this is your first position, I see." He pauses. "No references." He looks over at me again. "Why don't you have any references?"

  "As you noted a moment ago," I say, having rehearsed this answer hundreds of times in my head, "this is my first position, so -"

  "But from your teachers," Dr. Campbell says. "It's customary for a new nurse to at least have references from a couple of teachers."

  I swallow hard. "I was unable to secure references from my teachers," I say.

  He narrows his eyes. He clearly finds my situation a little interesting, but I trust that he will be too much of a gentleman to dig too deep. "Very good," he says eventually, putting my file down. "We're all entitled to our mysteries, and everyone deserves the chance to start over. You'll find that there's plenty of room for advancement here, Nurse Winter, if you apply yourself properly and work hard. How are you finding the place so far?"

  "It's perfect for my needs," I say, which is true. The position here at Lakehurst was one of the few I found that offered free accommodation. As well as being a nurse here, I'm also going to live in a small apartment round at the far side of the building. It's an unconventional arrangement, but it makes sense since Lakehurst is so far from any towns or even public roads. Commuting here would be difficult, and most of the staff also live here in their own apartments high up in the building.

  "You're being very diplomatic," Dr. Campbell says. "You're starting to worry me, Nurse Winter. Despite your somewhat acrobatic entrance to my office, I'm getting a strong feeling that you might prove to be a highly valued member of our staff. I hope that doesn't mean I'll face a struggle to hang onto you. I'd hate for you to go off looking for a better job once you've had some success here."

  "Nothing could be further from my mind," I say. A lie, obviously, but one that is entirely necessary. Life's a game, after all, and one can only hope to succeed if one plays by the rules.

  "We'll see," he says. "In the meantime, Nurse Winter, welcome to Lakehurst. I hope you'll enjoy your work here. It's a challenging place, and a fast-moving environment, but I personally derive a great deal of pleasure from being able to help the poor, troubled souls who come through our doors. I hope you'll find your time here to be similarly rewarding." He reaches out his hand, which I shake. "And please," he adds, "feel free to call me Arthur when we're in private."

  "Thank you," I say, "but I would prefer to continue to call you Dr. Campbell under all circumstances. Just to ensure a good image, in case any of the patients overhear us."

  "Perhaps that's a good idea," he says. "Now, I suppose you'd better take a look at your apartment and then get to work. The patients await us, and we're only of any worth at all if we're out there helping them. You'll find that I'm not the kind of man to hide away behind a desk."

  He leads me over to the door and then out into the corridor. I can hear the murmur of conversations in the distance, which means the patients are up and milling about in the recreation room. I suppose I shall have to get to know them all, and to understand their particular needs. Some of them will be easy to deal with, and some of them will - I'm sure - be a nightmare. Oh well. Here goes nothing.

  "One more thing," Dr. Campbell says, stopping me as we near the recreation room. The double door is closed, but I can hear the patients talking inside. "Some of the patients have got together and persuaded themselves that there are ghosts at Lakehurst. They share silly stories, and you know how these things can snowball. Some of them are quite convinced that they've seen phantoms and spirits. Don't let it worry you."

  "I should think it will be fine," I say, smiling. "I'm not minded to believe in the supernatural."

  "Good," he says. "Some of the patients can be rather persuasive, but keep a good head on your shoulders and you should be quite alright." And with that, he pushes the door open.

  Dr. Lava

  Today

  "Welcome to the madhouse," says the well-dressed woman who greets me at the door. "You must be Dr. Alexander Lava?"

  We shake hands as she steps back to allow me into the building. "I certainly am," I say. "And you must be Nurse Winter?"

  She pushes the door shut behind us and hits the pin-code panel, which triggers the locking mechanism. "I certainly am," she says. "As I told you over the phone, I'm very flattered that you chose to come and join us at Lakehurst. You're a man with a certain reputation, and I want you to know that I consider it to be a real coup that you're here. I imagine you had your pick of positions across the country?"

  "You flatter me," I say. "I was very keen to come to Lakehurst. In fact, it was my first choice. I like the isolation of the place, and the chance to really make an impression here. I want to mold the place according to my theories."

  "I look forward to working under you," Nurse Winter says. "Won't you follow me, and I'll show you to your office?"


  "I imagine you must have been going through a difficult time lately," I say as we walk along the corridor. "I was very sorry to hear about Dr. Campbell's death."

  "It was a shock to all of us," Nurse Winter replies, "but I think most of all to the patients. They had become very familiar with his approach, and I think some of them rather miss him. It's been almost a month since he was stabbed, and occasionally a few of them still ask when he's coming back."

  "Have you noticed any particular negative repercussions following the incident?" I ask. "As I understand it, the death of Dr. Campbell was witnessed by a large group of patients. Given their vulnerable situation, it's highly likely that this would have affected them."

  "Not as yet," she says. "There was one female who had to be given some special treatment, but she's absolutely fine now."

  "That wouldn't be Annie Radford, would it?" I ask. Annie Radford is one of the reasons I'm particularly interested in Lakehurst: having shot her brother in the head in cold blood, Radford was committed here because it was determined that she had been suffering from auditory hallucinations.

  "As a matter of fact," Nurse Winter says, "it would. But that was an unfortunate coincidence. She'd only been with us for a few days, and I'm afraid the blood-loss affecting Dr. Campbell was most extreme. There was very little that could be done to help Annie at first, but she's doing a lot better now. She's a rather changed young woman, although obviously there's still a long way to go."

  "Excellent," I say, as we reach a door with Dr. Campbell's name still written in the glass frosting. "I assume this is to be my office?" I ask.

  "It is," says Nurse Winter. "I'm very sorry about the lettering on the door, I'll make sure Morris fixes it by the end of the day."

  "No hurry," I say, letting myself into the room. It's a fairly small but functional office, and it'll certainly be enough for my needs.

  "I've taken the liberty of preparing a summary of each patient," Nurse Winter says. "All the relevant documents are on your desk, and I will of course be happy to answer any questions you might have. In the meantime, I'm not sure how you'd like to get started, but I can assure you that the entire facility is at your disposal."

  I smile. "You're being very generous," I say, "considering I was hired to take the job you wanted for yourself."

  "I have no idea what you mean," she says, looking a little uncomfortable.

  "Really?" I say. "As I heard it, you wanted to take Dr. Campbell's position as the head of Lakehurst, but the board overruled you and insisted that I be brought in. If that's the case, I would completely understand if you harbor a degree of lingering resentment toward me."

  "Nothing could be further from the truth," she says, clearly working hard to put on a professional sheen. "I know my strengths and weaknesses, and I feel that the role of supervisor is best left to a man such as yourself, Dr. Lava. I prefer to provide support where necessary, and to get on with the part of the job that gives me the most satisfaction, which is the provision of care for our poor, dear patients."

  I nod, trying not to smile at the bullshit she's spouting. It's obviously an act, and I'm quite certain that this Nurse Winter woman is insanely annoyed that I've been given her position. No-one ever really means it when they say they do a job like this because they care about the patients. We're all here for our own reasons: anger; rage; a lack of other opportunities; a desire to hurt the weak; or, in my case, a desire to do my work away from the eyes of those who would like to impress their own moral and ethical guidelines on my experiments. As for Nurse Winter, I wouldn't mind betting that she came to this place with the intention of getting out in a year or two, except now she seems to be a permanent fixture. For whatever reason, she's stuck around and become part of the furniture. To be honest, I feel kind of sorry for her.

  "Well," Nurse Winter says, "I really should let you get down to work."

  "I'd like to see Annie Radford this afternoon," I say.

  This clearly unsettles Nurse Winter a little. She pauses, and it's obvious that she's trying to think of a reason to change my mind. "Annie's a very special patient," she says eventually, "and I've been taking a special interest in her progress. Perhaps if you read her files first -"

  "I'd like to see her," I say again. This is the first time I've made a decision since I walked through the door of this place, and I can't back down. If I let Nurse Winter get her way, my authority will be permanently dented.

  "I understand," she counters, "but -"

  "Good," I say, interrupting her. "I'd appreciate it if you could arrange for Annie Radford to be brought to my office after lunch. I'm particularly interested in her case." I pause. "Don't worry, I won't get in the way of your work. I'd just like to get to know our most infamous resident."

  Nurse Winter forces a fake smile onto her face. "I'll have her outside your door at 2pm sharp," she says. "although there's one thing that I feel I must mention first." She seems a little uncomfortable, as if she's trying to work out how to broach a difficult subject. "Our patients have quite active imaginations, and when you put them together in a residential setting such as this, it's inevitable that they... cross-pollinate one another's crazy ideas. Some of them have managed to persuade themselves that Lakehurst is haunted. They can be quite convincing from time to time. I hope you won't be swayed by their suggestions. I can assure you that there are no ghosts here."

  "Of course not," I say. "I have absolutely no trouble dismissing such ideas."

  "Excellent," she says, taking a deep breath. "Well, I'll bring Annie Radford to your office at 2pm. Glad to have you onboard, Doctor."

  She turns and walks away.

  "Nurse Winter!" I call out. I wait until she stops and looks back. "One more thing," I say. "I know I might be a little old-fashioned, but I'd prefer it if we can avoid throwing words like 'crazy' around. Our patients aren't crazy. They need help, and if we give them that help, I have every confidence that they can all walk out of this place one day and live happy, productive lives as part of society." I pause. "Nobody's crazy around here."

  "Of course, Doctor," she says, turning and walking away again. I can see that she didn't like my little lecture, but that's fine. I get the sense that Nurse Winter might be a little too big for her boots, so I need to make sure she understands that I'm the boss at Lakehurst now. From what I've heard, Dr. Campbell let this place slip into chaos, and he certainly seems to have given some of her staff too much freedom. All of that's going to stop now, because I'm in charge. I think one of my first jobs should be to remind Nurse Winter of her true place in the pecking order.

  Nurse Winter

  1999

  "I like this room," says Rolf, sitting hunched over in the bath. "This is the only room where you never see any ghosts."

  It's getting toward evening on my first day at Lakehurst, and my final job before my shift ends is to bath Rolf and put him to bed. Rolf is the oldest patient here, an overweight old man in his eighties who has a pleasant manner and who seems to be resigned to spending the rest of his life here. He smiles a lot, makes a few jokes, and cooperates with everything I ask him to do. After a tough day of dealing with people who have serious emotional problems, Rolf is something of a relief.

  It's a shame, though, that he seems to believe the silly ghost stories that circulate among the patients. After just one shift, I'm already getting tired of these. If you believe every single one of the stories, there are three gray ladies, two ghost nuns, two mad monks, two black-eyed children and at least one angel, all walking the corridors of Lakehurst and appearing from time to time. It's all completely unbelievable, but then there's no end to the complications that can be dreamed up by insane minds, especially when they can confer and support one another's delusions.

  "We won't be much longer," I say, running the warm, wet sponge over Rolf's back. He has several interesting old scars, and a few army tattoos.

  He laughs a little. "What's your name again?" he asks.

  "Kirsten," I say. "Kirsten Wi
nter."

  "Well, Kirsten Winter, why do you ignore it every time I mention the ghosts, huh?"

  "Do I?" I ask blandly. Sometimes Rolf is so direct and upfront, I doubt he's really insane at all. It's hard not to wonder if he's just an old guy who decided life would be easier in an asylum. But then I remember his file: fifteen years ago, Rolf stabbed his wife in the head because she forgot how he liked his eggs. She died, and he ended up here. So he's definitely crazy. Or at least a little unstable.

  "You don't like it when I mention them," he says. "I've brought up the subject three times since we came in here, and each time you've carefully avoided responding." He turns to me. "Are you just struck dumb by the sight of my dick?"

  I smile as I finish sponging him down. "I guess I just don't think that there's very much to talk about," I reply. That's kind of true, but the other reason I'm not talking much is that I'm thinking about the hot doctor I spotted on the ward earlier today. He was just my type: tall, with dark hair and blue eyes, and he seemed to have a particularly kind manner with the patients. In other words, he's perfect. I just have to bide my time and find out who he is and how I can get him to notice me.

  "You don't believe in ghosts?" Rolf asks.

  "I..." I pause, which is fatal because it shows him that I'm not entirely certain of my answer. "I don't, no," I continue, but I know it's too late. I've given him reason to doubt me.

  "You can't go around being scared of ghosts," he says. "They're real. They're around. Everyone sees a ghost eventually. Sure, some people dismiss it, pretend like they were mistaken. But everyone sees something, especially in a place like this where the crazies seem to draw 'em out."

  "I'm not scared," I say. "I just don't believe that they're real."

  "You ever seen one?" he asks.

  "No," I say, putting the sponge aside. "Okay, Rolf, we're done. You can get out of the bath now." I head over to the other side of the bathroom, and I grab a towel for him. I turn back to him as he climbs out of the bath and stands there, his naked, wrinkled old body dripping all over the floor. "Can you dry yourself, or do I need to do it for you?"