Behind Sanity

Chapter Fifty-Three

Behind Sanity

Chapter Fifty-Three

1

Rain pounded the windowpanes outside the asylum, seeming to be cleansing the establishment of its current business.  The dealings were done, it said, and there would be no more.  No more talk of this “Wonderland” place.  It would simply have to be accepted that this project was all over now.  And for Johnathan A. Robertson, it was.  He didn’t have to try hard to catch the rain’s gist.

He sat on the edge of the bed that he’d spent many restless nights in – alone.  Today, he was not alone, however, for he sat with one who deeply wanted to become a close friend of his: a .31 6-shot Colt Pocket revolver. 

He stared down at the gun, which he’d always kept in his bedside table in case he’d had need to defend himself from some threat during the night, and now it seemed he’d finally get some use out of it. 

It hadn’t been long since he’d put Alice’s body to rest in the basement with the others.  He wanted her there with them; it was what she would have wanted.  The cold would do well to preserve her body for a day or so, and by that time, they would have found his own lifeless body as well.  Yes, that would be acceptable.

John took off his glasses.  There was no sweat on his brow as he contemplated what he would do.  He couldn’t have been calmer, actually.  He’d not felt such ease in quite a while.  The wooden handle was cool against his skin, which helped him to be aware of the life that he would soon stifle.

Letting his jaw unhinge, he let the gun barrel slide inside to rest against the roof of his mouth, tasting the bitter tang of the metal. 

A bittersweet way to go, he thought. Quick oblivion. 

He closed his eyes.

2

 Deep in the basement of the massive Rutledge’s Private Clinic and Asylum, the bodies lay aligned together in their matching beds.  Still – dead still.  There was no sound to lift the heavy silence, no light to purge the darkness.  There was no heat to fend off the cold, save for the warm breath clouds of the living as they slumbered on.  One of them, however, was not helpful in this task. 

The body of Alice Liddell was lying in a bed amidst the others there, more silent and still than any of them.  She had not been there long, but her form already seemed to be at home with the others.  She was among friends.

It was sad and yet ironic – her death.  She had died trying to save those that she truly held most dear, yet she had lost her own life to the very things she was trying to redeem.  Had it been worth it at all?  Was saving Morgan enough to say that her attempts had been worthwhile? 

Who was there left to have the answer to that?  None of the others in the room could say, for none of them would ever have the chance now. 

Alice was dead, and the rest slept on. 

3

Nurse Elisa Duncan contemplated the recent turn of events as she walked down the hallway toward her room in the dormitory.  For the first time in a while, her heart was incredibly sore.  She remembered when Alice Liddell was just a small girl coming into the asylum.  Elisa had watched her – for better or for worse – and now the very worst had happened.  Alice had passed on.  So young…

Elisa couldn’t blame herself for it, though she couldn’t say she’d helped the situation.  But how could she?  She had helped the girl several times along the way, but was it enough to redeem her own soul?  Would this “Wonderland” eventually swallow her whole as well?  To her, it was a terrifying thought.