Succubi Part 13

"It's absolutely disgraceful that you've seen fit to completely ig-"

"Mom, please. I didn't come here to fight."

"I'm surprised you came at all. We haven't heard from you in six months-we thought you'd written us off altogether."

"d.a.m.n it, Mom. Just stop it, would you?"

The headache was already flaring. This happened every time; they'd tear at each other until there was nothing left. Almost twenty years now, and the only bind that remained constant between them was bitterness, scorn.

"I came here to see Dad, not to argue with you."

"Fine," her mother said. "Fine."

Down the hall, another lane of memory.

"I suppose you'll stick your head in, look at him, and then be off again, back to your everimportant job in the city."

Ann felt her nails dig into her palm. "I'm off all next week."

"Oh, a week, a whole entire week. I suppose we should feel privileged here in lowly Lockwood, that the prodigal daughter has graced us with a full week of her cherished time in order to spend it with her family, one member of whom is dying."

Ann's teeth ground together. Her jaw clenched. No, No, she thought. she thought. I will not fight with her I...will...not. I will not fight with her I...will...not.

They'd set up a convalescent bed in the end spare room. The shades were drawn; pale yellow lamplight cut wedges in the room. From a corner chair, a stout man rose in a baggy suit. He was bald on top, with tufts of saltandpepper hair jutting from the sides like wings, and a bushy goatee. This was the man who'd delivered Melanie on that stormy night, and the same man who'd brought Ann into the world through her mother's womb. Dr. Ashby Heyd.

He smiled warmly and offered his hand. "Ann. I'm so glad you could come."

"h.e.l.lo, Dr. Heyd." But Ann's attention was already being p.r.i.c.ked at, dragged toward the high bed. Antiseptic scents blended with the musk of the old house. The room seemed stiflingly warm. Inverted bottles on a stand depended IV lines to the still form on the bed.

Ann looked down at her father.

It scarcely looked like him. The vision crushed her, as expected. Joshua Slavik's face had thinned, leaving his mouth open to a slit. His eyes were closed, and one forearm had been secured to a board, needles taped into blue veins large as earthworms.

"He's borderline comatose, I'm afraid. A ma.s.sive cerebral hemorrhage."

Ann felt desolate looking down. Her father barely seemed to be breathing; Ann had to fight back tears. Even in her worst moment, or during her mother's worst tirades, Joshua Slavik had always had a smile for her, a simple encouragement, the slightest note of hope to help her feel better. He'd given her his love, but what had she given him in return?

Abandonment, she answered. she answered.

"He looks so peaceful," her mother remarked.

Ann snapped. "Jesus Christ, Mom! You're talking like he's already dead! He's not dead! dead! You've even got this whole G.o.dd.a.m.n house full of people like it's some kind of G.o.dd.a.m.n funeral home!" You've even got this whole G.o.dd.a.m.n house full of people like it's some kind of G.o.dd.a.m.n funeral home!"

Dr. Heyd took a step back. Her mother's face went dark.

"We've got to get him to a hospital," Ann went on. "He should be in an ICU, not lying in this stuffy crypt. What kind of care can he get here?"

"Dr. Heyd is perfectly capable of-"

Ann rolled her eyes. "Dr. Heyd's just a smalltown general pract.i.tioner. He delivers babies and treats sore throats, for G.o.d's sake. We need a neurologist, we need a CAT scan and an intensivecare facility. We're taking him to a hospital right now."

"I forbid it," her mother said.

Dr. Heyd stepped in, "Ann, what you don't understand is-"

"All I understand is my father's dying and n.o.body's doing s.h.i.t about it!" Ann yelled at both of them. "And if you think you can forbid me from taking my own father to a proper hospital facility, then you better think again. You may run this ridiculous little backward town but you're not the law. I'll go straight to the state probate judge and file a pet.i.tion for guardianship. The court will appoint me guardian ad litem, and there'll be nothing you can do about it. I might even-"

"Why not sue me while you're at it, Ann?" her mother suggested. "Sue me for mental anguish. That's what lawyers do, isn't it? Sue people? And you'd do it too, I know you would, Ann. You'd sue your own mother."

Ann caught herself. Her mother and Dr. Heyd exchanged silent glances. Ann stared, more at herself than them. What am I saying? What am I saying? she thought. she thought.

Her father groaned once, lurched and twitched a few times.

"Are you happy now?" her mother asked. "Look what you've done, you've upset him. Haven't you upset him enough in your life? You'll even upset him on his deathbed."

Ann wished she could melt into the wall. For that moment she'd felt completely out of control of herself.

"This is a disgrace," her mother said, and left the room.

Dr. Heyd followed her. He quietly closed the door behind him.

Ann sat down. Her outburst left her limp, jointless. Her gaze returned to her father. She seemed to be looking at him from miles away, or through a fisheye lens.

"I'm sorry, Dad," she muttered.

He lay still. The flesh on his thin face seemed translucent, sagging into the crags of his skull. Then he moved.

Ann leaned forward, held her breath.

Very slowly, her father's right arm lifted. His hand turned, and his index finger extended feebly.

Shakily, and only for a second, the finger pointed directly at her.

The house was emptying when she came back down. Visitors smiled curtly, bid subtle goodbyes, and left. A few teenage girls were picking up in the dining room, putting things away. Martin stood alone in the corner, his arms crossed.

"We could hear you yelling all the way down here," he said.

Ann sulked.

"I know it's not easy for you, Ann. But it's not easy for your mother either. It's not exactly sincere to threaten your own mother with legal action when her husband's dying in the same room. You're going to have to get a grip on yourself."

"I know," she said. "I'm sorry."

"Don't tell me." Martin lit a cigarette and frowned at his cup of punch. "She went out back with Melanie. Dr. Heyd's in the kitchen, I think."

Ann nodded. She shuffled into the kitchen. Dr. Heyd was hanging up the phone.

"Dr. Heyd... I'm very sorry about the things I said to you. I don't know what came over me. I didn't mean-"

"No apology necessary, Ann," he said. "This is a difficult time for everyone; I know what you must be going through. But you must realize the facts. The symptoms are undeniable. Your father suffered a ma.s.sive orbital hemorrhage. Regrettably, no medical technology in the world can help him. There's little anyone can do except try to make him as comfortable as possible. Your mother thinks it best that he stay here, closest to the ones he loves, in familiar surroundings."

Dr. Heyd's politeness, and his reason, made Ann feel even worse. What a s.h.i.theel I am, What a s.h.i.theel I am, she thought. "How much time does he have? Do you think he'll linger on like that for very long?" she thought. "How much time does he have? Do you think he'll linger on like that for very long?"

"Highly unlikely. A stroke of this magnitude generally produces the same result. It's a large hemorrhage. The hemorrhage will systematically clot, dispersing particles of coagulation into the major cerebral blood vessels. I'd say a week at the very most, though he could go at any time."

Ann looked down at the floor. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Simply being here is the best thing you can do for him. And for your mother."

Ann sighed quietly. s.h.i.theel, s.h.i.theel, s.h.i.theel. s.h.i.theel, s.h.i.theel, s.h.i.theel.

"He'll be under constant supervision. I'll be checking on him several times a day, and there'll be a nurse 'round the clock. Do you remember Millicent G.o.dwin? She's several years younger than you, I believe."

The name seemed familiar. High school, High school, she thought. she thought.

"She's a registered nurse now," Dr. Heyd explained. "She'll be staying at the house, to look after Josh when I'm not here. You needn't worry. She's quite qualified."

"I can't thank you enough for all you've done, Dr. Heyd. And, again, I'm very sorry about-"

"Think nothing of it, Ann." He smiled and grabbed his bag. "I've got a house call to make right now, but I'll see you soon."

The doctor left. Ann craved a drink after all this, but then she remembered liquor was not kept in the house. She looked out the kitchen window. Large, gnarled trees kept the s.p.a.cious backyard in shadow. Beyond the kiosk, Melanie could be seen walking through the gra.s.s with Ann's mother.

Chapter 11.

The top line read:

THARP, ERIK.

The second line read:

ADMITTANCE STATUS: NGRI. NGRI.

And the third line:

DIAGNOSIS: Acute Schizoaffective Schizophrenia. Acute Schizoaffective Schizophrenia.

The standard form, Statement of Clinical Status, was dated five years ago.

PHYSICAL STATUS: The ad-mittee is a 25yearold white male. Build within ectomorphic range, 69 inches, 121 pounds. The ad-mittee is a 25yearold white male. Build within ectomorphic range, 69 inches, 121 pounds.

BOARD EVALUATION, INITIAL: The patient was oriented, alert, and coherent. His motor behavior was unremarkable, his speech deliberate and monotone. His facial expression showed sadness, and he described his mood as "tired, but I'm relieved to finally be away from them." His thought processes seemed clear though there were clear paranoid ideations. Somatic complaints included difficulty in getting to sleep and morbid dreams. The patient appeared to have a high I.Q., though his recent, past, and immediate recall were clearly impaired. The patient was oriented, alert, and coherent. His motor behavior was unremarkable, his speech deliberate and monotone. His facial expression showed sadness, and he described his mood as "tired, but I'm relieved to finally be away from them." His thought processes seemed clear though there were clear paranoid ideations. Somatic complaints included difficulty in getting to sleep and morbid dreams. The patient appeared to have a high I.Q., though his recent, past, and immediate recall were clearly impaired.

NARRATIVE SYNOPSIS: Admittee is subject to bizarre delusions highly s.e.xual and subservient in nature. Admits to extensive CDS use during late teens and early twenties, though denies any such use within the past two years. Board concludes likelihood of PCPrelated receptor damage, which could explain delusionfixe and hallucinotic inferences. MMPI results indicate overly concrete abstract a.s.sociation and reduced multimodal creative a.s.sembly. No paranoiac or delusional tendencies, however, via MMPI results, which is curious. Patient demonstrated above average scores on MullerUrban diagnostic, which is puzzling given the nature and detail of delusions. TAT recommended prior to med therapy. Narcosynthesis is advised. Admittee is subject to bizarre delusions highly s.e.xual and subservient in nature. Admits to extensive CDS use during late teens and early twenties, though denies any such use within the past two years. Board concludes likelihood of PCPrelated receptor damage, which could explain delusionfixe and hallucinotic inferences. MMPI results indicate overly concrete abstract a.s.sociation and reduced multimodal creative a.s.sembly. No paranoiac or delusional tendencies, however, via MMPI results, which is curious. Patient demonstrated above average scores on MullerUrban diagnostic, which is puzzling given the nature and detail of delusions. TAT recommended prior to med therapy. Narcosynthesis is advised.

For the next hour, Dr. Harold read the narrative summation of Erik Tharp's madness. The hospital board had evaluated him yearly. The last three narratives were fairly dull; Tharp denied the delusion outright, claimed to no longer be bothered by his nightmares, and dismissed all that had happened to him as "Craziness, I must have been crazy," he told Dr. Greene. "I can't believe that I believed those things, if you know what I mean." Lying, Lying, Greene had written in the comments section of the evaluation form. Greene had written in the comments section of the evaluation form. Still believes delusion, just not admitting it anymore. Still believes delusion, just not admitting it anymore. But why would Tharp do that? But why would Tharp do that?

To qualify for roam status? Dr. Harold thought. Dr. Harold thought.

Of course, and to eventually...

"Escape," he muttered.

It was obvious. Tharp had been planning his escape for some time.

Dr. Harold ruminated. Five years ago Erik Tharp had believed a disturbing delusion. So thereafter he lied, hoping Greene would think he was no longer possessed by the delusion and hence give him roam status.

His premeditation, even though it hadn't fooled Greene, proved something very clear. Tharp had a preconceived motive for his elopement. He wasn't escaping just to escape. He wanted to escape in order to do something specific. But what?

Why had Erik Tharp denied his own delusion after one year? The problem was, delusional people weren't able to do that unless they weren't delusional in the first place.

There's something on the outside that he feels he needs to do. Whatever it is, it involves the original delusion, and the original delusion involves the place of his original crime.

At once, he dialed Dr. Greene. "I have some impressions for you," he said. "I don't think Tharp and Belluxi have fled the state, nor do I believe they plan to. I think they're heading for the immediate area surrounding Tharp's crime scene."

"Because Tharp's not cured of the demon thing even though he pretended to be?" Greene postulated.

"Yes."

"You think the delusion is still important to him?"

"Very important. It's the sole motive for the elopement."

"Okay, I'll go along with that. What else?"

"Tharp will abandon Belluxi as soon as possible."

"Because he doesn't need Belluxi anymore, right?"

"Right. Tharp only needed Belluxi to get off the ward, and he's probably regretting it right now. Tharp isn't homicidal-my guess is Belluxi's the one doing all the killing, and Tharp doesn't want any part of that. Tharp's MMPIs indicate a high order of morality."

"We're talking about a guy who buried babies. Morality?"

"Sure. Tharp didn't kill anyone, he just buried the bodies. But he may kill Belluxi in order to prevent more murders. That's my guess anyway. However crude, Tharp's TATs reveal highly focused guilt a.s.semblies and even ethics. Plus, now Belluxi is baggage to Tharp. For every minute that Belluxi is with him, Tharp's goals are jeopardized."