1
1968 When Thomas Engelhart began to wake up, the first thing that
struck him as strange was the smell he breathed deeply into his nostrils. Lysol.
God he hated that smell. He had
yet to open his eyes, but he knew he was back in the hospital, the same
hospital his children had been born in.
The same hospital his wife had died in.
He wondered if his fate would be the same.
He
could hear muffled voices in the background, but none he recognized. He slowly opened his eyes and took in the
scene around him. There were bars of
chrome blocking much of his view, but he soon realized that those were just the
side rails of his bed. As he rolled his
head from side to side, he also saw that he was in a room all by himself. Jesus, he thought to himself, this must cost
a fortune! He tried to sit up, but
found he was still too weak.
As he
inspected his surroundings closer, he also saw that a tube was taped to his
arm, and that it ran up to a clear IV bag hanging from a stand on the side of
his bed. As he focused on the hallway
outside his door, he saw a nurse go by and tried to yell at her. His voice came out as a raspy whisper and he
realized he was so dehydrated that he could hardly speak. He tried to lick his lips, but his tongue
stuck to the corner of his mouth. It
took most of the energy he had left to pull it away.
Besides
being thirsty as hell, he found himself in a state of confusion. He wasn't even sure why he was here. He tried to put the pieces together, but his
mind just wasn't functioning normally.
He finally gave up and closed his eyes again. It actually wasn't all that unpleasant, he thought dreamily to
himself, as he slipped back into unconsciousness.
2
As Thomas slipped back into
the darkness, he began to dream. At
first it was a somewhat pleasant experience as he walked down a long row of mature
corn, stopping occasionally to pull back a few tassels on an ear, seeing that
it was almost ready for harvest. But as
he neared the end of the row, he could see his farmhouse off in the distance,
spinning around on it's axis like the house in the Wizard of Oz. Only his house wasn't falling through the
sky, just spinning on the ground, as if someone had turned it into a giant
roulette wheel.
Somehow
he just knew that his children were in the house and he ran towards it as fast
as he could. The harder he tried to
run, the slower he moved. It was as if
the ground had turned to thick molasses, and each step seemed to take an
eternity. He reached down with his
hands and tried to help move his legs forward, but his progress slowed even more. Somewhere in the distance he thought he
could hear his daughter's voice. He
tried to yell out to her, but no sound came.
He tried again, and again, and again; suddenly he was awake.
When
he opened his eyes, Janice was by his bedside, holding on to his left arm. His fingers were interlaced with his right arm
around his left thigh. He sensed that
he was still trying to get out of the molasses, but also realized that it was
only a dream. He relaxed and fell back
into the pillow.
"Dad,
it's all right. It's okay now. I love you Daddy."
She
hadn't called him 'Daddy' since she was just a pup, and it brought tears to his
eyes, even though the rest of him was dying of thirst.
"I
wuv you too, huhn-ee," he replied, barely able to form words with his
dehydrated lips and tongue.
A
nurse suddenly appeared behind his daughter, and he watched as her arm shot
forward with a little glass of something that seemed to shimmer like diamonds.
"Try
sucking on some of these, Mr. Engelhart," she said gently.
He
looked at her bewilderedly, telegraphing his true state of mind to her
professional eye.
"They're
only ice chips, Mr. Engelhart. You must
be thirsty after all you've been through.
Just try to suck on one if you can.
It'll make it easier for you to talk."
She
held the edge of the cup to his lips. As
soon as the first drop of melted water touched his lips, he eagerly opened his
dry cracked mouth to accept some of the chipped ice.
He
felt like the Tin Man after his first shot of oil, and he wanted to talk so
badly he thought that he might explode.
But he took the ice chips and circulated them around inside his mouth
with his tongue instead. After he had
unstuck most of the inside of his mouth, he swallowed the small remaining
pieces and opened his mouth for more.
This
time Janice was holding the cup, and he heard the nurse leave, saying she was
going to get the doctor. He slurped in
a few more chips, and nodded his head in gratitude. He still felt like he had been kicked by a Missouri mule, but at
least he could open his lips without fear of ripping his skin off.
"Janice,"
he said. "Are you all right?"
"Yeah,
dad, I'm fine." She lied.
"Where
are your brothers?" he asked weakly.
"Jonathan's
resting, outside in the corridor. I
should get him, he'll be glad you're awake," she said slowly.
Thomas
wondered if he was still feeling groggy from waking up, or if his daughter
wasn't quite all the way there.
"Are
you sure you're okay, Janice?" he asked, as he looked at her closer this
time. The lights were turned down low,
but now he could see that her face was all bruised and swollen, and both
corners of her mouth were split open.
Her lower lip was at least twice normal size.
"Yeah,
dad, I'm fine. Let me go and get
Jonathan," she said as she started to turn away from him.
"What about Edward, is
he all right?" he asked.
"Yeah,
he's running around here somewhere. He
came out of this without a scratch."
She
sounded so distant, he thought to himself as she left the room, almost
mechanical.
The
next face he saw was Jonathan's. He
seemed to be a little beat up at first glance, but not in near as bad shape as
Janice had looked after further inspection.
"Dad,
it's good to see you awake. You had us
scared there for a while," he said as he grasped the retaining bars of the
bed.
"It's
good to see you too son. Are you all
right?"
"Yeah,
I'm fine. It's you I'm worried
about," he replied as if on another planet.
Jesus Christ, thought Thomas. I just woke up from God only knows how long
of a blackout, and everyone else around here seems to be in worse condition
than I am.
"Jonathan,
forget about me for a minute. How's
your sister doing?" he asked.
"How's she really
doing?"
"She's fine Dad. We're all fine," Jonathan said in the same monotone voice that was about to drive Thomas over the edge and out of his bed.
"You
don't sound fine. Neither does
Janice. Where's Edward?" he
demanded.
"Oh,
he's around,” Jonathan said dreamily.
"Goddammit,
Jonathan!" Thomas shouted, and forced himself to sit up straight in his
bed. "Just what the hell is going
on around here?"
The
next thing that happened took Thomas by surprise, as two male nurses showed up,
each walking to opposite sides of his bed and holding down his arms. A man in a white jacket appeared behind
Jonathan, and whispered something in his ear.
Jonathan immediately left the room without speaking.
"Mr.
Engelhart?" asked the man in the white coat.
"Last
I remember, that would be me."
"I'm
Doctor Johnson. We're awfully glad to
see you awake, Mr. Engelhart," he said in a soothing voice.
"Yeah,
well I'm glad to be awake too, I guess," Thomas said. "Although my kids seem to be walking
around half asleep."
"Well,
just like yourself, they've been through quite a lot the last few days."
"Last
few days!" exclaimed Thomas.
"That's
right, Mr. Engelhart. You've been
unconscious for almost three days."
Thomas
slumped back into his pillow again, suddenly too tired to even move. He couldn't begin to make much sense of his
new reality so he asked the doctor.
"What
happened?" said Thomas weakly, rolling his head over so he could look the
doctor straight in the eyes.
"Your
farm was struck by a tornado, Mr. Engelhart.
You were found unconscious, and have been ever since they brought you
here."
"Whatever
hit my farm was no tornado mister, I can tell you that!" shouted Thomas.
"Then
what was it, Mr. Engelhart?" asked Doctor Johnson.
"Hell
if I know, but it wasn't any tornado.
I've seen a shit load of twisters in my time, and this was no fucking
tornado! Do tornadoes just tear up the
inside of the house?" Thomas asked, surprised to see the look of
astonishment on the face of Doctor Johnson.
"Mr.
Engelhart," the doctor said as he motioned to one of the female nurses
that had entered the room, "I hate to be the one to have to tell you this,
but your whole farm was destroyed. By a tornado."
"No, that can't be
true!" shouted Thomas wildly as he felt a prick in his left arm. "I
was there, and only the inside of the house was swirling around. I was there, damn it! I was there! It wasn't any fucking tornado, I'm telling
you! I was there. I was there…"
The
lights went out again, one more time.
3
Thomas dreamed again while
the sedative coursed through his veins.
He was in the house again, and everything including the sofa and the
television was flying around above his head.
He couldn’t even tell which room he was in, with all of the paper and
china and cookies winging around, but he knew he was in his own home. He tried to scream out for his children
again, but couldn't. He started to turn
around on his heels facing the same direction everything else in the house was
moving, still not being able to focus on anything long enough to tell what room
he was in.
He
saw the dining room table fly by, and behind it followed the chairs, one by
one. Next came the phone, with its cord
trailing in the jet stream, and it was ringing. He reached out to grab it, but it flew through his hand as if he
were a ghost. The complete set of his
old World Book Encyclopedias came next, flapping their red leather covers in
unison, looking much like a flock of Canadian geese heading south for the winter.
Behind
the encyclopedias came the old chrome kitchen table, with it's yellow imitation-marble
top. The matching yellow vinyl chairs
came next, like little ducklings chasing after their mother. Soon after, the big old bathtub came
waltzing by, its stubby little cast iron legs churning away like the ones on
Mrs. Crimshaw's dachshund.
The
only thing missing seemed to be the kitchen sink. As soon as he had thought of it, it too came barreling by,
spilling out unwashed dishes as it passed overhead. ‘Damn it,’ he said to
himself,’ I thought I told Edward to do
those dishes? Where is Edward anyway,’
he asked himself. ‘I haven't seen him
in such a long time.’
"I'm
over hear, father," came the answer, right from the horse’s mouth.
Thomas
looked to his right, and there was Edward.
He seemed almost regal, standing still and erect, as all of the
Engelhart family belongings flew by him at warp speed, parting around him at
the last second.
"Edward,
I should have known you would be at the bottom of all of this," he found
himself saying.
"Yes,
father, you should have," Eddie replied slowly.
"But
you were slower than most, I must say.
Aunt Louisee figured it out long before you did. Even that Lt. Taylor had an idea or two
about me. Of course we know where they
are now, don't we? But, not you; you
were too busy playing with your little tractor. You know father, I've been meaning to ask you. Is that a John Deere you've been driving, or
a Tonka?"
His vision
of Edward began to grow until it was twice normal size. The
boy started to laugh like some kind of evil thing from hell that even Thomas'
imagination couldn't put a name on. The
next thing he knew he was on the stairs again, fighting his way up towards the
second floor. He chanced a look behind
himself, not knowing whether he would see the giant Edward or the cast iron
bathtub rushing up at him, but it was just as before. Small picture frames, pages out of the phone book, an occasional
diner plate or piece of silverware.
Only this time everything seemed to sail right through him.
He
marched up the stairs without hesitation this time. Instead of finding the doors to all of the bedrooms closed this
time, he saw that they were all open.
To his left he saw Jonathan and Janice standing in their doorways, looking
like mannequins in a storefront window.
Their belongings flew about their heads and through their bodies as if
they were ghosts also. He looked to his
right and saw Aunt Louise standing in her doorway also, dressed in her old
flannel nightgown, with her head hanging grotesquely to one side and eyes wide
open. He felt the urge to duck as a
lamp passed through her body as if it were made of fog, and then banked hard to
the right and headed for Edward's doorway.
As
Thomas turned his head straight ahead, he saw the giant Edward standing in the
middle of his bedroom, holding their Hoover upright as if it were a machine
gun. Everything that was flying by him
was being sucked into the vacuum cleaner, and though the bag looked like it was
forty times it's normal size, it didn't burst.
The
giant Edward began laughing his evil laugh, and Thomas lunged towards him with
all of his might, only to hear the loud crack of the ceiling giving way again,
and to find himself in total darkness.
4
When
Thomas felt himself coming to this time, he was afraid to open his eyes. Instead he listened for a while. The first thing he honed in on was a squeaky
wheel on a cart that someone was pushing down the hall. As he became more cognizant, he could hear
voices coming from other rooms down the hallway. He was almost to the point of eavesdropping on their
conversations when he heard footsteps entering his room.
"He's
been sedated," a nameless, faceless said.
He thought he recognized the voice, but couldn't put a name with
it. "He should be coming around
pretty soon."
"Thanks,"
returned the other person. It had been
a while, but he felt that he knew that voice too.
He
was already turned towards the voices, lying on his side, so he opened one eye
just enough to try and make out who was speaking. His vision was too blurry to recognize enough detail to determine
who it was, though he could tell it was a man.
He also had that damned thirst that seemed to accompany his every
waking since he had ended up in this Godforsaken place. He quickly decided to quit playing hide and
seek and let the world know he was awake again.
As he
opened both of his eyes this time, he soon recognized the person standing in
his room.
"My
kinggom for an eyezchit, docker," he found himself mumbling.
"Well,
well. You're back amongst the living
again. Terrific. Unless I miss my guess, you're asking for
these."
He
held the plastic cup of ice chips up to Thomas' lips, just as the nurse had
before, and Thomas repeated the same ritual.
"Would
you like some more?" asked the doctor.
Thomas
shook his head no, as he moved the ice around in his mouth.
"Are
you up to talking for a few minutes?" asked the visitor.
"Yeah,"
rasped Thomas, "As long as you don't stick me with anymore needles. I'm afraid I was born way to soon to
appreciate all of the drugs they have been giving me."
"It's
a deal, as long as you stay calm."
"Okay,
calm. No problem, Dr. McNally."
said Thomas.
"Great."
"What
are you doing here? I thought you had
retired."
"You
know how it is Thomas. You can say
you're retired, but all that means is that you get to slow down a little. I promised to fill in for a friend of mind
while he's on vacation. I happened to
see your name on the chart, so I thought I'd drop in."
"How
long have I been out this time, Doc?" asked Thomas.
"Well,
let me look at your chart. Hmm, look's
like about twelve hours."
"Thank
God," said Thomas.
"Why
do you say that?" asked Dr. McNally.
"The
last time I woke up, they said I had been out for three days."
"Yep."
"Do you know where my
kids are, Doc?"
"Yep,
they're with the missus right now.
Probably getting spoiled rotten," he said.
Thomas rose up slightly in
his bed. "Edward too?" he asked
quickly.
"Yes,"
Dr. McNally replied, "All of your children, Thomas, and about five others
if I remember correctly. Seems the
missus has maternal instincts that just won't quit. We've been foster parents and guardians to more kids than I could
ever count on my hands and feet, even if I were a millipede."
"I'm
not so sure that's a good idea, Doc," said Thomas. "Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful as
hell, but I'm worried about…"
"Edward,
I know," said Dr. McNally.
"I
don't think you understand," started Thomas.
"You're
probably right, Thomas," interrupted McNally.
"Edward's
not exactly…"
"Normal?"
"Yeah,
for lack of a better term."
"Well,
in all honesty, that's partly why I'm here."
"I
guess I don't understand," said Thomas.
"Thomas,
as you well know, I was there when your wife, God bless her soul, gave birth to
Edward. I was also there when she died,
and I couldn't do a damn thing to save her."
"Hey
look Doc, I've never had any hard feelings towards you about that. I hope you know that."
"Thank-you
Thomas, but that's not why I'm here," replied Dr. McNally.
"I
guess I still don't understand then."
"Thomas,
as you also know, I've been your family doctor right up until I retired last
year. Lt. Taylor also found out that
bit of information, and paid me a visit last year. He knew I couldn't release any information due to the confidentiality
laws governing doctors. All he wanted
to do, and did, was speak his mind about Edward. Kind of a warning of things to look out for, I guess you could
say."
"Then
you should know damn well that you're wife shouldn't be alone with
Edward!"
"I
understand your concern, Thomas, but please calm down. If Dr. Johnson comes by and sees you all
upset, he'll dope you up into next year, trust me," said McNally, looking
over his shoulder, out towards the hallway as he did.
Thomas
quieted down, but his eyes still showed his concern.
"But,
Doc…" he whispered.
"It's
okay, Thomas. Lt. Taylor had a partner
he confided in about your case before he died, and I guess they were pretty
close. He's volunteered to hang around
while I'm not at home."
"So
everyone still thinks that Edward killed Louise?"
"Not
everyone, Thomas. But Taylor did, and
he said he was pretty sure that you did too.
But don't worry, that's just between you and me."
"Thanks,
Doc. I don't know what to think
anymore, but I sure wouldn't want anyone else to be put at risk, especially you
and your wife. Can't we make some other
kind of arrangements?"
"Only to put him somewhere
else where he'd be more likely to go off.
It's not like we could really warn anyone. There still's no proof, Thomas, there may never be. No, I think it's better this way for
now. Besides, the missus and Edward
seem to have really hit it off together.
If he was to go out and hurt anyone again, chances are that it would be
more likely to be someone like you. He
seems to resent authority figures."
"So
I've noticed," said Thomas.
"But I still think you're taking a hell of a chance, Doc. How are my other two doing?"
"I
won't say that I'm really worried about them, but they seem to be awfully
distant. That's quite normal
considering all that they've been through.
I see it all the time with the other kids we bring in, especially at
first."
"I
gotta be honest with you, Doc.
Something really strange happened out at the farm that night. Before the tornado they told me about came
through. God, I can't believe
that. Is it really true?"
"I'm afraid so, Thomas. Yours wasn't the only place to get hit, believe me."
"Still,
I know I'm not crazy, the whole place was going crazy inside, and…"
"Look
Thomas, I'm going to give you some advice.
You can take it or leave it.
There are some things that you just can't explain in this world. When your wife died, I tried to explain what
had happened to the other doctors in the hospital. They damned near laughed me out of the county. When Lt. Taylor tried to build some kind of
a case against your son, he got the same treatment. Most people around these parts are simple people, and they don't
believe squat unless it bites them on the ass.
You and me are no different, except that we've been bit on the ass.
"The rumors are flying around this hospital that you're as crazy as a loon. Those probably won't go away when you leave here, if you get to leave here on your own recognizance. If you're smart, you'll stop insisting that something 'crazy' happened out on the farm that day, and just play along with these dingle-berries until you check out of here. Then I want you to come straight to my house, and we'll have a nice long talk."
Thomas was so confused by now he didn't know what to think. Somehow he trusted Dr. McNally though and agreed to follow his plan.
"I just gotta know one
thing, Doc," said Thomas.
"You know, if I
wasn't so used to you calling me 'Doc', I'd insist on you calling me Jim."
"Thanks Doc," said
Thomas, smiling for the first time since he had re-entered this so called
reality.
"What's that you gotta
know, Thomas?"
"Why you're really
doing all of this. I can't thank you
enough, and I'm just one of those simple people you talked about, but I know
when there's more to a story than what I'm hearing."
"You're not as simple
as you think, Thomas, and you're right.
First of all, I have a deep interest in the paranormal, and so does my
wife."
"Paranormal?"
asked Thomas, as if the word was in a foreign language.
"That's correct. It's a term you'll probably hear a lot more in
the future. I'll explain it more later,
but let's just say for now that it covers your Edward, and maybe what happened before the tornado."
"You actually believe
me?" asked Thomas.
"Let's just say that I
don't disbelieve you, at the
moment."
"Okay, Doc, I guess I
understand now."
"Well, there's one
other thing that you should probably know up front," replied Dr. McNally.
"What's that,
Doc?"
"The man with Lt.
Taylor in the car crash, I was the person that referred him. He was my brother-in-law."
"Jesus, I'm sorry
Doc."
"Me too, Thomas, me
too.”