Authors: Alan Spencer
“My name’s Robert Williams. I’m investigating what happened to you, Mr. Horsy.” He motioned for Craig to come into the parking lot. “Let me buy you lunch.”
Craig was starving. The hospital food left something to be desired, and three-quarters of his stay, he couldn’t eat due to the testing. Tina tried to sneak him a Snickers bar, but he had to turn it down. When it came to his health—and near death days ago—he couldn’t leave anything to error.
“Sure, lunch sounds good. I’m guessing you want to know everything about Dr. Krone.”
Robert offered a wry smile. “That’d be a start.”
He was driven to a restaurant called Arthur Bauman’s Stack. On the way to the entrance, the detective asked, “I hope you like ribs and meat sandwiches. The doctor said you could use some good food. You’ve been on IV fluids all week.”
“That’s what Dr. Herman told me.” Craig’s stomach rumbled. Despite the temptation, he couldn’t forget what he vowed. He couldn’t disclose the complete truth. It was simply too dangerous. “You picked a good place to eat. I’m already salivating like a dog.”
Inside, they were guided to a table under a giant bison head. The table was rough-cut wood as if right out of the tree, it seemed. Robert ordered a stack of ribs, coleslaw, and fries, and Craig decided on a braised pork sandwich with pork and beans. Now that they’d ordered, Robert’s professionalism arrived. His eyes zoomed in on him. “I waited for you to receive your treatment, Mr. Horsy. You’ve been through a lot of trauma. Dr. Hill said you had needles jammed through your eyes and skull that were over three inches long. Any normal insertion would leave you a drooling vegetable. That’s what makes your case, your survival, so interesting. Plus, our investigative crew has sifted through the remains of the mansion. It’s all burned up. Nothing really left except for more questions. I hope you can help. We need your account of things, so how about it?”
He wet his lips and cleared his throat. It bought him time to plan his words carefully. “I can put it in a nutshell, though my memory isn’t one hundred percent, I’m sorry. I was kidnapped from my apartment, and I woke in a room with a couch. It appeared to be a psychiatrist’s office. A nurse said I’d slipped outside on ice and hit my head. I believed her, for whatever reason. I waited for my appointment, and a man named Dr. Daniel Krone talked to me. He mentioned the fights I’d gotten into at school as a kid and my court appearance.
“So after the questioning, I was somehow sedated—that’s what I’m guessing. I woke strapped to a chair.” This was where Craig started to lie. “Dr. Krone asked me personal questions about my family and my childhood, and then I wake up, and I don’t know how long I was out, and the place is burning. I was able to escape. I don’t know what happened to Dr. Krone or that nurse. All I know is that he wanted in my brain—my memories, you know?”
He’d said too much, but it was too late.
Robert arched his brow. “So nobody’s told you anything else about the crime scene?”
“No.” He was genuinely confused. “Is there anything you want to tell me?”
“Dr. Krone owned ten asylums,” he then paused, bracing himself for the telling, “and he co-operated twenty others. What that means is he had access to thirty asylums. We’ve found approximately twelve hundred dead bodies in his mansion. They were sealed up to reduce the smell. Each of the bodies had received their fair share of poking and prodding. The range of decay also indicates these bodies are centuries old. Someone remarked that one of the bodies was wearing a confederate uniform, and another from the American Revolution.” He paused, allowing the statement to sink in for Craig. “Their damage was similar to yours, Mr. Horsy. Their eyes were ragged with needle marks. Their brains were either diced up or removed completely. Dr. Krone owned enough surgical devices for ten medical teams. Some are even of medieval origin.”
He opened up a little to come off convincing. “Dr. Krone mentioned dissecting the brain for its potential. He really wanted to somehow capture a person’s memories. He believed it would solve mental illness. The details of that work, though, I have no idea about. It all sounds morbid. And how many bodies?—twelve hundred? Jesus Christ.”
“You’re a very lucky man to survive. Our investigation is still in the running. We’re tracing the bodies and trying to identify every last one. So far, they’ve each been traced back to Dr. Krone’s asylums. The man sold the establishments about ten years ago. Dr. Krone’s father, David Krone, has been missing for years. He up and disappeared for no real reason. There’s so much going on in the investigation, we ask you stay quiet about this. That means not talking to the news or friends or relatives about this.”
The food arrived, and Robert thanked the waitress. The woman heard tidbits of their conversation and was expedient to leave them to their meal. Robert didn’t touch his food, and Craig hesitated. “What else should I know, Detective?”
“What do you know about the machines?”
He placed a confused expression on his features. “Machines?—what kind of machines?”
“Do you have any clue?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not sure. I was sitting in a chair when Dr. Krone was interrogating me. Whatever my back was against, it was hot. It sounded like a motor too. But I couldn’t turn around.”
Robert was excited. He was making a mental note.
Shit.
He tried to relax. What could they do with the information he was giving them. Craig had to learn what Robert understood about the machine, so he asked, “Did you find machines? What did they look like?”
“They were burned up pretty good. There were twenty-five machines counted on the premises. They were simple. I’m not sure it means anything, but they were located in the basement level of the mansion, the same level as all those bodies. I’m not sure what the hell was going on. We did find a room of melted VHS tapes, but they’re useless. The fire got to them. It’s a shame a trusted doctor stole patients from his asylums to do private research. The state’s going to take some hits for this. Those asylums will be turned inside out. The news will have a parade with this shit. I suggest you lay low, Mr. Horsy. We’ll do our best to protect your anonymity. That’s why you shouldn’t talk about it to anyone.”
“I’ll keep my mouth shut.”
Robert began to eat his food. “This is only the beginning of the investigation. I assume you’ll be available to answer questions again anytime?”
“Of course. I’ll tell you anything I know.”
Tina Horsy
The wounds over his eyelids and scalp had healed to light pink scars in two month’s time. Tina said he looked like he was wearing purple eye shadow. She was concerned about the damage as any mother would be, but he kept the explanation of his injuries to a minimum. He served up the condensed version that he’d given Detective Williams, keeping everything damning a secret. He visited Tina every Thursday after he recouped. They frequented Half-Time now that Craig and Willis had made up, and that was where they were now sitting during happy hour. Fifty cent beer draws. Tina was on her sixth. Craig had just downed his eighth. Willis was busy with the happy hour crowd. Joey, his brother, was pouring three shots across the bar for a pair of men in business suits.
Craig watched Willis and Joey. Their faces would randomly smolder and blacken to the skeleton beneath. Sometimes in his everyday life, he couldn’t shrug Dr. Krone’s drummed-up scenarios.
Nobody can forget something like this, so try and deal with it the best you can.
Trying to distract himself from the horrible visions, he talked to his mom again. “You look a lot younger than you used to. You dyed the gray out of your hair. You got a facial. One of those mud treatments at Club La Feminist too.”
“Club La Femme, you idiot.” She rolled her eyes, speaking to him as much a friend as a mother. “I don’t want men checking out my ass when I’m working out. You’re asking for unwanted attention.”
Willis stepped up to them. “You two want another draw?”
Tina clapped her hands. “Yeah, yeah. Two more, barkeep.”
Craig studied the man’s scar above his temple. It was shaped like a sideways “U”. Willis sensed an apology coming. “And I forgive you. Again. You’re receiving help. Let’s move on and drink and be jolly, okay? Forget about the past.”
Willis delivered the draws moments later and toured the rest of the bar and its patrons. Alone with their drinks, this was Craig’s chance to bring up Brandon. He wanted to talk about his dad for a time, among other things Dr. Krone had opened up. He had to know what was true and what was a manipulation.
He blurted out, “Dad was an asshole.”
“Craig Ryan Horsy, you watch your mouth.”
She was stern. The fun expression on her face had been erased.
“I’m sorry, but it’s the truth.”
She hiccupped. “I know!” Tina busted out laughing. “He really was, and it took forever to realize it.”
“He was an abusive creep. He cheated on you so many times. What a bastard. He couldn’t be happy with a wonderful woman such as yourself.”
“He had a little man complex. A lot changed between now and say thirty years ago. Women were subpar to men in every category, and now we make more money than them and we don’t really need them. We’re independent, and some men couldn’t handle that change, such as your father. It’s old-fashioned bullshit. He kept me down by cheating on me, and other things.”
“And that stupid basement and his nudie posters. That was his room, don’t interfere with the business he’s conducting, and dear God, don’t interrupt his special time in his special room.”
“Macho machismo asshole.” She sipped on her draw. “A part of me misses him, you know, the part of him that loved me without his complexes and hang-ups. Deep down, he wanted to be a good man.”
“You shouldn’t have stayed with him. Not for me, not for him, but for yourself. You should’ve jumped the shark. You should’ve jumped Jaws.”
“Live and learn. But I’ve lived a good life. I have you. I lost you for a while after Katie. I never got to really console her death with you.” She touched his arm. “I’m so sorry, Craig.”
He smiled. “Console me with fun now.”
Craig raised his glass, and they toasted each other.
He couldn’t resist bringing up another piece of information that could be true or not. “Did you ever cheat on Dad?”
Tina kept a straight face, but the side of her lip twitched. She contained the lying smile. “No.”
“Are you certain?”
She pushed him. “Craig, what kind of a son are you by asking me these questions?”
“I’m a son after the truth. Hey, I went to those court-appointed psychiatrist visits. Dr. Herbert has introspected me to death. ‘How do you feel?’ ‘What does that mean to you?’ ‘Did that hurt you?’ ‘How are you, emotionally?’ Psycho-babble hokey-pokey bullshit. I’ve always suspected you had a man on the side.” He stared her down. “Am I wrong? You can tell me. I won’t judge you. And I already know who it is.”
Tina played with her coaster, spinning it back and forth. After fighting herself for thirty long seconds, it burst out of her like a confession, “Parker Stevens, okay?
Man
, that felt good! I’ve held that in for so long. Not even my sisters know about him.”
“Do you still talk to him?”
“I broke it off so long ago,” she confessed. “It felt wrong. Maybe it was revenge for me, and maybe I cared about Parker, but I couldn’t distinguish between the two feelings. It wasn’t fair to him and it wasn’t fair to me.”
“So you slept with him?”
A hard elbow to the ribs. “Craig Ryan Horsy, you’re full of questions today—and juicy ones too. That’s between a man and a woman and God.”
“That’s sounds like something Parker would say. I imagine out of everybody in the history of the world, God has heard every private story and juicy secret. I’d kill to have a drunk conversation with God. I’d hear
some
stories.” He let the issue dwindle. “What’s Parker up to these days?”
“You didn’t hear?” She was excited to disclose the nugget of truth. She always enjoyed fresh gossip. It was a prerequisite for any receptionist and part-time manicurist such as herself. “He had a falling out of faith. He renounced the church, and now, he works as a zookeeper in Florida. I think his father forced the church on him from such an early age, he couldn’t decide between personal faith and his family’s faith. I haven’t heard from him in a long time. But I miss him. He helped me through some hard times.”
“He even tried to bless me without Dad knowing. That was scary.”
Tina checked her watch, ready to move on from the talk of her philandering. “Are you up for a movie?”
“We’re stinking drunk.”
“So?—the theater’s just down the street.”
“You’re right, why not?” He finished his drink. “Let’s saddle up and hit the road.”
Tina looked him in the eyes. “I have to ask you something. I really kept that a secret, you know, my affair with Parker.” She came in close. “How did you find out about Parker and me? Seriously?”
Alice Denny
Alice Denny was Craig’s final obstacle, post Dr. Krone’s machine. He waited in her apartment complex’s parking lot in limbo. Visit her or leave. He couldn’t remove her from his mind. Months had gone by since his escape, and he couldn’t summon the courage to visit her. She still lived in the same apartment. What had she done since her miscarriage?—and what a way to remember somebody, he scolded himself. The hardest part would be breaking the ice. What would he say to an old friend?