Schism

Chapter 3 part 1

Chapter 3

The alarm was going to go off.  He had less than a minute, probably less than thirty seconds.  Bryan turned, stared at it: 6:59.  He knew he could avoid the spine-clenching blare if he just reached over and turned it off, but the alarm was his only hope of starting the day. 

Just reach over, he thought.  Get up without it.

But his body wouldn’t move.  He steeled himself against the wail of the alarm, but still jumped when it blared out into the bedroom.  He didn't move as the electronic whine pulsed over him.

Finally, his right hand reached out, found his left wrist and the watch strapped to it.  His fingers circled the face, began to find strength there.  He pushed that energy into his chest and filled his lungs with a deep breath.  "Get up.  Gotta get the bad guy."  Claire had said that to rouse him after long nights.  First, they were sleepless nights with her, then with the baby.  Even without sleep, he'd gotten up easily then.

The alarm wailed at him, the noise of it not nearly as harsh as the fact that without Claire and the baby, he needed it.

His eyes waited for the red glow of numbers to switch to 7:02.  He could get up then, he was sure. 

The phone interrupted his battle.  Automatically, he slapped the alarm into silence and grabbed the cell, jerked it free of the charger as he looked at it.  The screen read DISPATCH.

He thumbed it on, lifted it to his ear.  "Mickelson."  A woman's voice on the other end dryly fed him details.  "Lieutenant wants me on it?"  Silence from the voice.  "I'll go there first thing, will report in after."  He closed the phone and sat up before the bed could latch back onto him.

"Gotta get the bad guy."

 *

William stretched and heard the rustle of his covering of leaves before he opened his eyes.  He kept them shut.  When they were closed, there was no fog to see.  But that wouldn't shut out the voices.

William blew out a breath and sucked in a new one.  He opened his eyes and met bright sun, filtered through a veil of orange, red and yellow.  This was the third season of fall leaves he'd seen since being admitted to the hospital.  The first two had been dimmed by the medication's haze.  What he had seen so far this year had been wrapped in the wisps of fog that were trying to take back their hold on him.  He had forgotten just how pretty the fall could be.  The voices had taken that away too.

He turned, studied branches, the smell of the air and he realized he was alone, in the woods, barely clothed against the cold.  His teeth began to clatter in an offbeat staccato. 

Still, he smiled.

He sifted leaves through fingers, felt veins and the soft crinkle of their rough flesh.  He sat up and cupped them in his palms.  Their bright colors began to dim, fade to gray.  William dropped them and scooted back, but the fog rose out of the leaves, the floor of the woods, the trees.

"No."

He clamped his eyes shut.  He pushed out against the fog, tried to break it apart, to banish it somehow.

It was too strong.  He opened his eyes and the fall colors were transformed to a simple spectrum of white to black.  Each leaf and tree outlined, contrasted more sharply against everything around it. 

And he wasn't alone.  "No" he said.

The voices' forms were more distinct.  The Advisor stood watching him as The Hunter pointed down the hill.  The Caretaker coaxed William up and his face slackened as their presence numbed him.  He followed them down the hill toward the city.

 *

Bryan pulled his sedan to a stop in the parking lot and stared up at the sad, solid brick architecture of the mental hospital.  His thumb found his watch and circled the rim of its face for a moment before he could open the car door.

Inside, he dragged his feet down the hall.  He turned a corner to see two patrol officers lounging at what must be the right door, where they had found the doctor.  They were each at least ten years his senior and thirty pounds over his weight.  He stopped.

Bryan ran a hand over his tightly cut hair.  He knew a man who couldn't drag his own ass out of bed couldn't manage the required professional appearance of a police detective with much more than a buzz cut.  He had no idea what was current for hairstyles, only that messy but short didn't get him yelled at.

He saw the two men whispering to each other and started into the fray.

The shorter of the two patrols, Edgars, threw him a false grin.  "Hey, Detective Mickelson!  Welcome to the fun house."

He ignored their chuckles.  The work would push him through it.  "This it?  Anybody see it happen?"

Edgars shrugged and turned to the other, Jacobi.  "Just the loon who was in here."

"But she's not talking.  Got about a jillion volts yesterday.  They said."

Bryan looked into the room.  A lone bed with sheets tangled on the floor. 

No body.  No outline. 

He turned to Edgars and Jacobi, saw them watching expectantly.  "What's going on?  Where's the victim?"

Edgars nodded.  "Her?  Yeah, some doctor, she's downtown at Mercy."

"Busted up hand, choked unconscious."  Jacobi said.

"Yeah, thought you were homicide.  What're you doing on an assault case?"  Edgars said.

Bryan stared at them as a nurse hurried down the hall.  Edgars and Jacobi craned their heads after her.  Bryan stepped away from the doorway just as the nurse turned a corner out of view.

Edgars jerked his head in the direction the young woman had gone.  "Guy that did it.  His room's down that way."

Bryan said a silent thanks to the nurse and started after her.

 *

(Author's note:  What is Bryan going to find out?  And what is wrong with him that makes the other police laugh at him?  Read on to find out the answers and more!!)