Short Story: The Visitor (part 1 Of…

Short Story: The Visitor (part 1 Of 2)

This piece has not been edited by the ShortbreadStories team.

“Adam”, the psychiatrist said. “Can you hear me?”

His patient was silent, his eyes glazed over and his mind far away somewhere, contemplating some distant unknown vision.

“Adam”, the psychiatrist repeated. “Can you hear me? Come back to me, Adam.”

The young man blinked, and it was as if life itself had returned to his body, regenerating him from his previous catatonic state. Now his eyes were animated once again, and he blinked several times. He looked around him, before re-focusing his gaze upon his doctor.

They were in Dr Christopher Holden’s office, whose windows looked out upon the attractive, well-tended and scenic gardens of the mental hospital. Their visible semblance of order and aesthetic natural beauty seemed to serve as an antidote for the chaotic, ugly and disturbed minds that existed within the Victorian-built institution and whose building’s tall dark shadow overlooked them. It had once been a sanatorium in the period that it was originally built, with far harsher environments and cells for its inmates. Now the rooms of the mentally frail were far more civilised, and there were padded cells and straightjackets for the more extreme cases housed there. Strong medication, of course, was usually an effective remedy anyway for the more aggressive or deranged patient.

Bright sunbeams lit up the interior of Dr Holden’s study in their dazzling glare, and so gave Holden an opportunity to intently study the face of the patient currently in his care: a man named Adam Walker. Adam was one of his more baffling cases. Adam was a young man in his early twenties, slightly built if somewhat underweight, with hooded pale blue eyes and hollow cheeks. His head was shaved, and now there was simply dull brown fuzz atop his scalp. His expression was usually vacant, as he often tended to slip into a catatonic state as had happened just now in Holden’s office. On such occasions, it seemed that Adam existed in his own private faraway world, much like a child with severe autism, a place where no one could reach him. Holden, his colleagues and nurses at the hospital had noticed him whispering quietly to himself, as if holding a conversation with a friend that no one else could see, an imaginary companion in his own secret inner fantasy world.

Adam had come into Dr Holden’s care at Greenview after he had been arrested for attempting to abduct young children. He had tried to grab schoolchildren off the street and force them into his van, and had even held one child in his flat for two days to ‘protect him’, in Adam’s words. The young boy had been terrified from his ordeal, although he had not been physically assaulted or harmed by Adam in any way. Despite his conviction, there was no evidence that he was a paedophile or that he had attempted to physically attack or sexually abuse the children he had kidnapped. He had been judged mentally unstable. At his trial, and in police interviews, Adam had told the authorities that he wanted to protect the children from beings known as ‘The Watchers’, who wanted to abduct the kids themselves for their own mysterious intentions. Adam had told the police and doctors that he alone could see ‘The Watchers’ but as their name suggested, they also could see him. It was also very clear that Adam was terrified of them, as his behaviour became increasingly agitated whenever he was forced to talk about them and explain his motives for what he had done. Of course, he had been categorised as delusional, and placed in appropriate care- which was the care of Dr Holden at Greenview Hospital.

Adam had been at the institution for a month, and yet still he baffled Holden. He certainly had curious dreams, hallucinations and visions, which Holden had encouraged him to record and draw in notebooks and sketchbooks which the nurses had given him. Adam’s finely sketched drawings and incoherent writings were perhaps even more disturbing than the disconnected, rarely coherent verbal ramblings that he shared with the nurses, the doctors and indeed, anyone in the immediate vicinity who was unfortunate enough to be present when the mood took him.

For a start, Adam wrote in a crabbed, cramped style using the blunt crayons that he was allowed to write with. His writing was minutely small, and filled up every possible millimetre of space on the page, wasting none of the paper. He showed little regard for punctuation, and what he wrote was paranoid and delusional. It made little sense, particularly when he started to write in an unknown language that Dr Holden did not recognise. Holden had no idea whether it was nonsense, or code- but he suspected that it must be the former. Adam’s drawings gave a slightly more terrifying insight into his state of mind: he drew an image of a human being, crouched in the foetal position, with long narrow open tubes extending down toward him from all about him. All the tubes extended up toward another drawn figure: a hooded figure that was featureless apart from a wide, malevolent grin. Another drawing had shown the shape of a hexagon. There were numerous figures drawn within it, and bordered from one another as if it was a building or structure- at the top of this building, there was a giant eye, its iris and pupil almond-shaped like a cat.

Dr Holden had read a full report regarding Adam Walker’s background. Both of his parents had died in a car accident when he was seven years old. He had lived with his grandmother for a short while, before he had been taken into care. There had been warning signs even in his early teens: Adam had always been withdrawn and introverted, a loner. He had been expelled from school for consistently missing classes and had failed to settle with a succession of foster families. Early signs of possible schizophrenia had been highlighted by the reports that he had ‘heard voices’, even when he had been as young as fourteen or fifteen years of age. He had also told stories of seeing mysterious figures, unknown beings that had tried to communicate with him. He had no idea who they were, only that they were not of this world.

He’d left school with no qualifications and become a drifter- someone who did odd jobs to get by. He’d been homeless for a time, until he had eventually found a low paying job on a building site and started renting a small bedsit flat. That, however, was when he had started attempting to kidnap children. It hadn’t taken long for the police to track and identify his van, and arrest him.

That chain of events had led him here: to his eventual destination. He was institutionalised, and under the care of Dr Holden at the Greenview mental hospital. Indeed, events that had led him here to Holden’s office, where he seemed to be conscious of where he was at last, and fully refocusing his attention on his doctor.

“Adam”, Holden said. “Welcome back to the real world.”

Adam blinked again and looked around him, as if seeing the details of Holden’s study for the first time, even though he had been brought in here by an orderly only fifteen minutes ago. He seemed groggy and disorientated, like a man awaking from the depths of a particularly deep sleep. “Doctor…” he whispered. “Are we safe here? I don’t know, I think…I don’t think we’re alone here.”

“We’re not alone, Adam”, Holden said calmly and patiently. “We’re at the hospital, and many people live and work here. But I can assure you that you’re very safe here. No one can harm you here.”

“Are you sure, Doctor?” There was a note of fear in Adam’s voice as he suddenly thrust out his arm and clasped the psychiatrist on the shoulder. Holden tensed slightly, and his own hand almost went to the pocket where he kept a case: a case containing a hypodermic syringe filled with a powerful sedative in case of an emergency. But Adam showed no signs of aggression or anger, and so after a moment Holden relaxed. “I mean…I think they can go anywhere.” Adam licked his lips and his wide blue eyes blinked. Holden could feel his anxiety, urgent and palpable. “It doesn’t matter where you are…they can find you. They can see you, always.”

“Who are they, Adam?” Holden asked with a small sigh. This was always the way of it. He knew that he was about to hear the familiar story that poured from Adam Walker’s lips.

“The Watchers”, Adam said. “They see you. They can see me. The Panopticon.”

This was entirely new. Holden frowned. Adam was not a highly educated or particularly intelligent young man and the doctor was surprised that he understood the concept of a Panopticon. “What did you say?” Holden asked. “The Panopticon?”

Adam nodded, but said nothing. He seemed less agitated than he had been moments before, but still his eyes frenetically scanned his surroundings, his gaze flickering across the pale cream carpet of Holden’s office floor without fixing on anything in particular.

“What is the Panopticon, Adam?” Holden asked.

“The prison. The mind-cage.” Adam stared at the psychiatrist, and abruptly jabbed his left forefinger toward his own scalp. “It is the place where the Great Watcher observes us all. He watches me there! They watch me very carefully. They’re scared I know too much. I’m trapped there, in a stone chamber, and the all-seeing eye is always there, fixed upon me…staring at me, right into my soul…”

Dr Holden wondered if the Panopticon was a warped metaphor for Adam’s knowledge of his confinement within the mental hospital. The ‘stone chambers’ and the ‘mind-cage’ could possibly be symbols of his own self-knowledge regarding his incarceration here, except within his own disturbed mind the hospital was a far more intimidating and terrible place than it truly was in reality. It was an interesting development, but it was a turn for the worst if anything. Holden had still not managed to help Adam break free from his delusions, and it appeared that this patient’s fantasies were becoming more complicated and deep-rooted the longer he spent within the institution.

Dr Holden sighed and finished the notes he was making. He closed Adam’s file. “That will be all for now, Adam”, he said.

Adam did not reply. He licked his lips again, mumbled something inaudible, and folded his arms across his chest. He began to rock slightly upon the chair he was sitting on.

Dr Holden pressed a button on his intercom. “Vanessa? Send in Jeremy to collect Adam please…” While Holden waited he watched Adam thoughtfully, a frown furrowing his brow.

*

That night Adam had another strange and terrible dream (or, perhaps, a nightmare), as he tossed and turned within his bed, alone inside his locked room in the hospital. He was a child again, and living within one of the houses of his foster parents. Everyone in the house was afraid. He had gone to the living room window, wondering why, and upon the horizon he had seen a mysterious red glow, looming up above the trees and rooftops. It soon became clear that it was molten lava. The lava swallowed up the buildings in the distance, before flowing toward the street where Adam’s foster parents lived. He could see that the red glow on the horizon was a volcano erupting, a volcano that should never have been there: an anomaly on the landscape. But just as he watched the lava approaching, fearing that he and everyone in his house would be burned alive, the flow began to dissipate into a gentle orange stream, finally devolving into trickles of copper slime that were soaked into the sponge-like earth of his front garden.

He rushed to the television and there on the screen saw a newsreader display the source of the lava: a colossal volcanic crater that scarred the surface of the earth and was continuously erupting. Then Adam found himself rushing back to that front window with his panicking foster parents to see the terrible red glow on the horizon again, as another surge of lava approached, swallowing up the houses in the distance before gradually dissipating as it approached Adam’s house…then the cycle began again…

The cycle of eruption was only interrupted when someone opened the back door to the house, and Adam’s puppy, a small black and white cocker spaniel, darted outside. And then Adam was afraid, because the lava was hot and would harm the small dog, even if it had reached only small levels outside his foster parents’ house…

It was then that Adam awoke with a small cry upon his lips, wide-eyed and afraid, his skin cold and prickly with sweat. He blinked nervously and looked around the room before he saw the Watchers at the window, staring inside straight at him with their blank silver eyes and then grinning at him while displaying their gleaming razor sharp teeth… and it was then that Adam began to sob quietly to himself and felt terrified at the sight of Them - even more so than when he had been only dreaming about the volcanoes that erupted and poured their burning, boiling lava across the earth.

*

“A visitor? For him? Walker?” The duty nurse was baffled. It was a rare occurrence that inmates at the hospital received visitors, and she was certain that this individual in particular had never received any. Yet here, in the flesh, was just such a visitor, who had arrived and asked to see Adam Walker, the crazy young man who had tried to abduct children.

The potential visitor seemed a pleasant enough young man, Doreen Hawes (for that was the duty nurse’s name) thought. He was very handsome, tall and broad-shouldered, with intense blue eyes and a warm smile. His hair, a mass of blond curls, covered his forehead and extended down to the nape of his neck. He reminded Doreen of a surfer-type that she had seen at coastal resorts in her time, a sun-kissed beach athlete. His skin was bronze in tone, as if he did spend a lot of time in the sun. His attire was curious: he wore a perfect white suit, with a matching shirt and tie. The suit looked spotless, although doubtless the visitor would have to be careful that he did not ruin it.

“Yes, I would like to see Adam Walker please”, the visitor said. His tone was neutral, with no accent that Doreen could place, although his voice was rich and well spoken. As he stood in front of the counter, flashing a gleaming smile at her, Doreen became more and more intrigued by this man and entranced by his presence. There was something fascinating and seductive about him…

“What’s your name?” she asked him, for some reason unable to stop herself from smiling warmly at him, even as he favoured her with his own beaming smile.

“Ah. My name…” the visitor grinned again, and for a second it was as if something about his features changed. The pupils of his eyes seemed to grow larger within the white of the eye, and although she must have imagined it, she thought they changed colour from blue to a vivid purple tone like violet. Momentarily dazzled, Doreen shook her head. Was the mysterious visitor trying to hypnotise her? But it was only a momentary shift, a brief unsettling moment, and then everything was normal again. She could hear the sound of the clock in the reception area ticking, and she could see the visitor standing before her, his smile even broader than before, if that were possible.

“My name…is Quentin”, the visitor said. “Quentin Moss.”

“One moment, please”, Doreen said. She picked up the phone, and began to dial the access number. Almost in the same moment, the visitor who had named himself as Quentin Moss raised his palm to her, in the manner of someone telling someone or something to halt. In the centre of his palm there was an Eye. It was an eye just like Moss’ normal eyes, except it was on his palm: blue, with dark pupils and whiteness. It looked straight at Doreen, and even blinked as it stared at her just like a normal eye would. For a brief second she wanted to scream, but a fraction of a second later she realised that wasn’t necessarily. Something had frozen her mind, with a comforting numbness. The consciousness of Doreen Hawes had been shut down by something external and purposeful in its intent.

“There is a visitor to see Adam Walker”, Doreen and the visitor named Quentin Moss said, except they spoke at exactly the same time, with perfect synchronicity. “Quentin Moss. Q-U-E-N-T-I-N-M-O-S-S. Yes. Clearance checks out. Please let Mr Moss through. Thank you.”

There was a distant beep, and a door behind Doreen Hawes unlocked itself. Quentin Moss smiled toward her, and promptly strode past her. “Thank you for all your help”, he said to her. “You’ve been most kind and resourceful Doreen, you really have! Goodbye.”

Doreen Hawes did not reply. She stood still behind the counter, for at least five more minutes, after Moss had gone. She did not move, and her eyes remained open without blinking for the duration. Then, she shook herself, blinked and looked around her. Was it really seven-forty in the evening already? How time flies, she thought. Ten minutes had gone by swiftly as could be, just like that. It only seemed just a minute ago that she had looked at the clock and seen that it was seven-thirty. She chuckled to herself and picked up her magazine again to read about the shallow exploits of vacuous celebrities.

As she would report later, she had no recollection of seeing or meeting a Quentin Moss at all, never mind seeing his identification or allowing him to have clearance and therefore access to the hospital so that he could visit Adam Walker.

*

It was the nurse on night duty who raised the alarm. The orderlies on the night shift and security detail came to the scene of Adam Walker’s room. However, Adam was not inside it, not any more. There was no sign of him at all. All that he had left behind was his sketchbook, with a few last unseen drawings. When the nurse flipped through the pad, she saw the sketched drawings of frightened, trembling children, with bony skeletons depicted floating above their heads as if marking their destiny or as if they were the physical bodily remains of their souls. The final sketch was that of a colossal church tower in some busy town, the steep towering spire extending up toward the sky and the ornate Gothic architecture of the building drawn in intricate detail upon the crumpled page.

A search of the premises ensued, and still there was no sign of Adam Walker. Security replayed the video tape, and showed footage of the blond man who arrived at reception and was given access by Doreen Hawes. Staff members confirmed that Doreen had spoken to them about the visitor and buzzed a ‘Quentin Moss’ through. When questioned, Doreen insisted that she had no memory of a Quentin Moss arriving at the hospital and that she had never seen that blond man on the footage before in her life. Despite what the video evidence showed, she was adamant. She told her colleagues, the hospital board and the inquiry later that she did not remember seeing the man or allowing him to enter the hospital. The mystery deepened.

When a weary Dr Holden arrived later that morning, he was told of the events of the night before and that Adam Walker was missing. Holden was particularly concerned and intrigued that Doreen Hawes had no memory of Adam’s visitor. The report and the inconclusive video footage were disturbing. It was very clear that while Adam Walker and his visitor were missing, there was also no footage that showed them leaving the mental hospital. All which, suggested that they were still there, hidden on the premises somewhere, but unfound. At some point, they would have to re-emerge and they would be seen.

However, days passed by and then weeks, and there was no sign of Adam Walker, and neither his visitor. A distressed Doreen Hawes was suspended from duty. Holden felt sorry for her, but he had no choice. There would be an inquiry, of course. Already it was being reported that an ill man who had abducted children had escaped from a mental hospital. Adam Walker’s photograph was distributed to the media. There was an ongoing nationwide search for him. The police were involved, and they also took the CCTV video tape footage from the mental hospital.

However, Dr Holden kept one thing back from the authorities, although he couldn’t quite say why he had chosen to do so. Perhaps it was something plaguing his mind, something that he felt personally responsible for. Maybe it was a mystery that he, and he alone, had touched upon, and that he wanted to solve individually.