Behind Sanity

Chapter Sixty-Two

Behind Sanity

Chapter Sixty-Two

1

It was several hours after the Awakening before Alice opened her eyes to the ceiling of Rutledge’s asylum.  Outside the window, it was dark.  Rain was falling and lighting was crashing down, but the painted room she was in seemed impenetrable.  Her head rolled on the pillow, and while she might have expected to see John sitting in a chair by her bed, asleep or otherwise, he wasn’t.  There was no one.

She was still tired and weak, but she felt better.  Someone had cleaned her up, washed her hair and brushed it.  A clean, white gown covered her body.  There was water in a glass on the table by her bed and some food on a plate, but she ignored it.  There were more important things on her mind.

What was going on outside?  She was back where she should have been, but was everyone else?  Had she managed to save them?

Like a child on Christmas day, she got out of bed anxiously to see what she would find.

It was quiet in the hallways outside of the room she was in, and she realized then that she was in the hospital wing.  This was not where she wanted to be.  It wasn’t where her friends were.

She made the long trek to the asylum wing and no one noticed.  There were plenty of people about in the halls, but no one moved to stop her and none of the staff even looked her way.  The others saw her though – the ones strapped to carts, chairs, and being carried down the corridors.  They all looked her way when she passed.

Somehow, she knew them, and they knew her just the same.

There were all kinds of noises.  The patients, new and old, screamed their protests.  Squeaky wheels rolled along.  Orderlies, doctors, and nurses shouted communications to one another. 

Beyond all that, Alice was certain that she heard the steady ticking of a clock.

Her eyes drifted down the hallway, and at the end of the brown-brick space, there was a lone man strapped to a wheelchair, unattended.  His back was to her, but Alice recognized him.  His hair was white, but he was not dipping too close to death.  The man made no fuss, perfectly content to sit in that chair – parked in front of the hallway’s large wall clock.  

Alice approached him, her heart thumping anxiously in her chest.  No one stopped her.

She eased around to look at his face, immediately noticing his vacant expression.  The man had a lazy eye…

For a moment, she feared that he was catatonic, but eventually he realized that someone was standing near him.  He looked toward her – though he appeared to be looking just to her right – and when he recognized her, he smiled.         

“Why Alice!  Hello there, dear girl.”

She knew his voice.  “Please don’t dawdle, Alice.  We’re very late indeed!”  Alice examined his face a moment.  She smiled back.

“Hello, Percival.”  His name had never been spoken to her, but she knew it all the same.  It was just as she’d always known she would.

Without regard to consequence, she bent down and unbuckled one of the man’s arms from the chair.  His touch was soft with age when she held it against her face.  It was warm.  That was all she cared about.  

“Look at it, Alice,” the man said, looking back toward the clock.  “Such fine craftsmanship.  And set not a minute off.  Magnificent.”

Alice smiled to humor him as if his drabble mattered to her.  She was simply glad to see him, to hold his hand and look at his real face.