Asylum (29 page)

            “Ghosts…possession…”
Chloe redirected him.

            “Precisely!”
Dr. Willard agreed.  “A human being with a will stronger than nature…than death
itself.  What could be a stronger argument for man creating God?”

            “Ummmm…”
Chloe said.

            “It’s
Odd Ends…the name of the place,” said Dr. Willard, reaching over the seat and fumbling
for his bag, “You want to talk to a man named Matthew Gold.”

            He
found his check book and snatched a pen out of a cup holder.  Chloe watched him
sign his name with a flourish.

            “You’ll
be very careful with this, Miss Adams?” he reminded her, “it’s a blank check. 
Purchase the letter and see if there’s anything else pertinent.  I’ll call
ahead, let him know my assistants are coming, you’ll bring Miss. Klingeman as
well?”

            Chloe
nodded.

            “Very
good,” he said, decisively ripping the check from its leather binder and
handing it to her.  “Call me when you have it.”  He jabbed at the phone number
he had written at the top of the check.

            Chloe
nodded again, folded the check and stuck it in her pocket.

            “Well,
Miss Adams,” he said.

            “Well,
Dr. Willard,” she replied teasingly, trying to inspire a feeling of
camaraderie. 

            “We’ll
hear from you soon?” he prodded.

            “This
weekend still, if I can manage,” she vowed.
            Chloe got out of the car, and stood in the grass.  She waved at the
headlights of his car as he pulled out.  In the distance, a roaring fire blazed
around a teepee of scavenged wood.  She saw sparks glint in the eyes of dark
figures huddled inside nearby cars, watching her.  Chloe jammed her hands in
her pockets and wandered towards the fire.

            She
saw the crowd first.  Black silhouettes moving against the orange light, a ring
around the fire, a fluid black circle that moved, pushed, raced, rose and
fell.  There was music too.  A couple of cars had driven farther in field and
parked with doors open, streaming several competitive booming beats.  Techno
drums waged war with the twang of Country rhythm guitars.  Chloe sidled around
a large group of upperclassmen, loudly calling to each other, staggering and
dancing to some pop beat that she didn’t recognize.

            She
had almost reached the outskirts of the main party when someone tackled her
from behind.  She almost fell under the weight.  Chloe staggered and spun to
confront her attacker.

            “There
she is!” a man yelled in her ear, his arms still tight around her, “there’s
that one girl.  He’s been looking for you, girl!”

            Chloe
looked up to see a face she half-recognized.  Some guy that had sat with Seth
at a table in the Eat a while ago.  Was it Mike…or Lane?  Something…she would
smack her head when reintroduced.  Chloe was half-dragged, half-walked closer
to the fire.  Several people hooted or called to the boy who hung on to her. 
He was on the hockey team, she deduced quickly.  A friend of Seth’s.  He was
drunk to the point of not being able to walk.  They zigzagged instead of
walking a straight line.

            Seth
was easily recognizable, even in the red-orange flickering light.  He was just
a bit taller, his hair a little longer, his stance more confident that anyone
around him.  He wore a black BHC t-shirt and a dark relaxed fit jean.  No coat,
but then there was a pile of flannel next to him, and girls.  Girls, of course,
thronged around him in a chattering circle.

            As
she approached, Seth flipped his head to the side and ran a hand through his
hair, brushing night-blacked strands out of his face as he talked.  She would
have felt jealousy if she wouldn’t have noticed his profile against the fire at
that moment.  Something wrong with his nose, thicker or lumpier, something
definitely wrong with it.

            “Hey!”
called the boy, now using her for support, “Hey Seth!”  Chloe turned her head
to avoid the fumes of alcohol metabolism.  “Looka what I got!”

            Seth
was nonchalantly extricating her from under the drunk boy’s arm before she had
a chance to say anything.  Close up, she could see a metal arch taped across
his nose.

            “Wha-”
was all she got out before the drunk boy cut in.

            “S’what
happens when you don’t keep your head in the game,” drunk boy nodded wearily,
his eyes half-closed.  “He wasn’t paying enough…enough tenttion.  Looking into
the stands and smash! Into the boards, he goes!”

            “That
check I took in the second period,” Seth clarified, “It’s probably not broke,
but-”

            “But
he shoulda been looking out for the Alaskan defense instead ova red hat!”
laughed the drunk boy.

            “Alright,
Mike,” Seth said, steering Chloe away, “stop while we’re still laughing with
you, buddy.”

            Away
from the fire and relatively isolated from the rest of the crowd, Seth twined
an arm around her shoulders.

            So
what did you think?” he asked, trying to sound indifferent.  “It was your first
game, right?  Mike thinks he’s funny, I wasn’t actually looking for you, but I
didn’t notice where you were when I checked between plays.  You must have come
late?  It’s not broken…my nose I mean.  At least, I don’t think it is, it’s
just to be cautious.  It was bleeding, that‘s all.”

            Chloe
decided that she had just reached the lowest point of one of the worst nights
she had ever had.  She didn’t even know if the team had won the game.  She
hadn’t seen the play where Seth had been slammed into the boards…whatever that
meant…and he was talking as though he was trying to reassure her, as though she
must have been so worried.

            She
couldn’t help it.  At that moment, the exact second when she would have chosen
to be absolutely perfect and healthy and happy, she felt tears well up in her
eyes.  She swiped at them angrily, but the tears had already started.  She
buried her face in her hands and turned her back.  All the stress of the
night.  Watching Melanie’s body jerk around on its invisible strings, her name
on the wall, the discovery of George Townsend’s name in the library, her mother
popping up and demanding she come home, the talk with Dr. Willard, and then, of
all things, Seth’s taped up nose and him trying to reassure her, as though she
must have been worried, that he was just fine.  Too much for anyone really,
wasn’t it?

            “Clo!”
Seth said, his concern evident, “Don’t worry!  Hey, it doesn’t even hurt!  Look
I don’t even need it.” He started picking at the tape along his nostril, intent
on peeling the whole contraption off.

            “Stop!”
Chloe wailed, “You don’t have to mess your nose all up to make me feel better. 
I’m not worth it.  I’m awful.  I wasn’t even there!”

            “You
weren’t-”

            “No! 
I got stuck at the library, with that stuff Sam and I are doing for Dr.
Willard, and then we went back to the dorm, and we were trying to hurry, to get
to the game, but Mel and Jen were all messed up, and Mel went crazy and was
drawing stuff all over the walls, just like when the ghost did it in our room
and-”

            She
slapped a hand over her mouth.  Seth’s eyebrows shot up in a way Chloe wasn‘t
sure if she should chalk up to confusion or surprise.  Since she had already
let that much out…

            “And
my mom showed up again too,” Chloe said in a small voice, and then hiccupped
miserably.

            “Awwww,
Clo!” he said. 

            “I’m
the worst girlfriend in the world.  You got smashed into a board and I didn’t
even know it, and my Mom was just…just evil to you, and I missed your first
home game because…because I’m such a mess.  I think our dorm is haunted and Sam
is probably wondering where I am because I just left her there with Mel and
Jen, so I’m an awful friend too, and-and…”

            Another
sob stopped up her throat.  She coughed on it and squeezed her eyes shut against
the puzzled expression on his face.

            “Alright. 
Don’t…don’t cry.  At least we won the game…” he offered lamely.

            She
felt a wild laugh rip out of her throat, and tried to throttle it.       

            “At
least,” she agreed.

            “And
there’s another game tomorrow night.  And we’ll go home right now- no! We’ll
take a drive or something.  It’s Friday, we’ll go to Manistee or Sault Saint
Marie, somewhere where they have a hotel so you don’t have to sleep there
tonight.  We’ll talk about it.  You can tell me everything.  We’ll figure
something out.”

            “How
far is Traverse City?” Chloe asked.

            “Why?”

            “I
have to go there.  I have to get something, this weekend,” Chloe explained.

            “We’ll
go together, I’ll drive,” he volunteered.

            “You
have a game tomorrow night.”

            “Then
we’ll hurry,” he said.

            “I
have to tell Sam,” she decided.

            “Let’s
go then,” he said, steering her towards the cars.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

           
She should have
realized Sam would want to go.  Her roommate stood blocking the doorway, hands
on her hips, glaring at Chloe as she dumped the contents of her backpack onto
the floor and began stuffing it with clothes.

            “Sam,
come on, someone needs to stay with Jen and Mel,” Chloe insisted.

            “Mel’s
boyfriend is on his way here right now, he’s picking them both up and taking
them home to Ironwood for the weekend, right Jen?” Sam snapped.

            Jen
nodded quickly and glanced at Melanie, who was sitting up, but held her head in
her hands and swayed as though riding a train.  An untouched bottle of water
and a package of saltine crackers sat next to her, compliments of Sam.

            “Besides,”
Sam continued, “They’re fine now.  Or Jen is at least, if Mel would just make
herself throw up she’d probably feel better too. If Willard thinks there‘s more
on George Townsend, then we should go together.  We can go out and drive by the
asylum too.  I think it‘s abandoned.  We can see where Elizabeth lived.”

            Chloe
didn‘t answer.  She tore through her bath caddy, snatching her toothbrush and
toothpaste.

            “Then
I’ll drive myself,” Sam threatened, “I’ll follow along right behind you guys,
you can’t stop me, Chloe!”

            “Sam,
it’s not that I don’t want you to come,” Chloe soothed, grabbing a pair of
clean underwear, “but Seth is driving and I think it would be rude to-”

            “So…what? 
This is a romantic foray or something?” Sam demanded.

            Chloe
laughed harshly.

            “Yeah,
Sam, sure it is,” she shook her head.

            “You’re
going to Traverse City?” Mel asked in a rough voice.

            Chloe
and Sam looked at each other and then at Mel.  She hadn’t spoken since Chloe
had come into the room.

            “Yes,”
Chloe said.

            “He’s
from there,” Mel whispered.  “Some huge building…gas lights, wood floors. 
There were a lot of them there.”

            “Who,
Mel?” Chloe asked, dropping her bag and slowly walking over to the bed.  “Who
is
he
?”

            “The
one we were trying to find out about, George.  He was…I saw things that he
knew.  He’s trying to stop them…they all are…all the people on the wall,” Mel
shook her head slowly back and forth.

            “Who
are they trying to stop?” Chloe asked, getting down on her knees in front of
Mel.

            “There’s
so many of them, those…those
bad ones.
  I saw them.  White coats, and
long dresses…hard faces, all in black and white,” Mel swayed harder and
swallowed thickly.

            “You
need the trash can, Mel?  You gonna puke?” Sam asked.

            Mel
put her hand over her mouth cautiously, but she shook her head no.

            “She
hates puking,” Jen said.

            “What
does he want me to do, Mel?  Why is my name on the wall?” Chloe tried to keep
her voice calm.

            Mel
covered her mouth and shook her head.

            “He
wants me to stop something that happened a hundred years ago?” Chloe raised her
voice.  “I can’t!  It’s over now, it’s all done and over a long time ago!  Most
of those asylums aren’t even open any more.  There’s nothing left to fight!”