The Nightmare Song - Part 6

 

Raymond Love sits alone in his cell as the memories of this terrible place return to his mind. He recalls with growing dismay every loose brick and cracked tile, every gawking, clueless fool come and gone, every spot of mold and fleck of rust of this up-jumped dungeon. Decades of habit and regret return like insects, laying their insidious little eggs to hatch and grow under his new flesh. But it is only the body that is new; he knows there will be no sweet surprises for him in the many days to come, only the perpetual routine of unending life in The Tomb, the only home he remembers. Merely hours after his return, Raymond is already suicidally bored. He knows that soon Vincent Monroe will knock and enter. The doctor will open a bottle of decent whiskey and they will drink together, Monroe telling jokes and sharing news of the world above as it currently exists. The Ageless Man knows this will help dim the aguish of another return, if only a little, and he looks forward to seeing his friend again, even if he cannot quite recall his face.    The knock comes later than he wishes; his memory of whiskey has come on sharply and made him thirsty. 

“Come in,” shouts Raymond eagerly. The door opens…but it is not Vincent Monroe who enters.   

“Hello.”   The voice is high and nervous, sending a charge of genuine excitement coursing through Raymond for the first time in decades. He does not remember the last time he has seen a woman, and doubts if he has ever met a black-skinned one. As the initial surprise fades it is replaced with an even dustier feeling of embarrassment—Raymond doesn’t know what to say. “Where…where is Monroe,” he asks finally.   

“My name is Dr. Eudora Temple—“  

 “--Where is Monroe,” Raymond asks again, embarrassment turning to anger. A doctor. She is just another fool, he thinks, another clown sent to poke and prod at him. If she was here as Monroe’s replacement, there would be hell to pay, pretty girl or not.  

 “I’m afraid I have some bad news. Dr. Monroe has been gravely wounded. He is currently in surgery.”  

Raymond goes cold. The timing left no doubt as to the cause of Monroe’s wounds. Raymond suspected it had been a violent return, it usually is to some degree, but the victims were always one of the guards, some clean-faced greenhorn seeking his initiation into the veteran staff. They sought out their injuries, putting themselves in harms way by their own volition, crazy and misguided as it was. But Monroe wasn’t a fanatic, he had no reason to behave so stupidly. “How?”   

“You…when you—I don’t know what you call it—when you came back…you attacked him and several others.”   

“How many others?” Raymond can feel a nausea growing inside him.  

 Eudora hesitates before answering. “Three are dead, three are wounded, including Dr. Monroe.”  

 Raymond feels his strength leaving him in a rush. “Three dead, three wounded…”  

“They didn’t tell you any of this?”  

“Who?”   

“The guards.”   

“We don’t talk. Will Monroe live?”  

“I don’t know. Why is it don’t you talk to the guards?”   

“Take me to him.” Raymond wants to see the damage he has done to the only ally in the world he can name.   

“I’m…I’m not sure that’s allowed. I don’t know all the protocols, but I think it’s best if you stayed here for the time being.”   

“Take me to him,” he repeats, stepping towards her.   

“No,” says Eudora, stepping back. “I’m sorry, but no...” 

 “He’s still here, in the Tomb?”  

 “Yes, in the I.C.U., they’re working on him now. It could be hours. Once he’s out I can bring you updates on his condition. I’d be happy to do that.”  

Raymond sighs and turns to the wall. He hated the childish thing he was about to do, but experience had proven it an effective way to deal with these stubborn scientists. He raises his arm, balls his fist, and punches the bare cinderblock wall as hard as he can. Instantly the bones in his hand shatter with an audible crunch.   

“God! What are you doing,” shouts Eudora. “Stop!”  

The second blow breaks his wrist and snaps the ulna through the skin of his forearm. The pain is excruciating, but Raymond wills himself to continue.   Eudora opens the cell door and screams down the hallway for assistance, “Help me! Help!”   The third strike pulverizes what remains of Raymond’s right arm from elbow to hand. As the bloody, ruptured limb dangles uselessly at his side, The Ageless Man drops to his knees, close to passing out. 

Looking up at the horrified Eudora, he says though a sinister grin, “Let’s get one thing clear, doll-- I am not your Goddamned prisoner...”