Whispers of Bedlam Asylum (Sigmund Shaw Book 2) (25 page)

“Over here,” Pocket said and walked to the far wall. He knelt down and the light from his candle flickered over a hole in the floor. Sigmund got down on his stomach and put his head over the opening. Below was another room, although he couldn’t see much.

“Well done, indeed. Hand me the candle, please,” he said to Pocket.

With candle in hand, he held it into the hole and could see that the room below them was empty except for some dirt and debris. “Alright, I’m going to let myself down and then help Charlotte down.”

“What about me?” Pocket asked excitedly.

“I am sorry, Pocket,” answered Sigmund. “I know you want to help, but we need you to stay up here.” Without allowing time for an argument, Sigmund pushed himself up and dropped down the hole. He landed well, not too much noise, and most importantly, he didn’t hurt himself.

From below, he watched as Charlotte brought her legs down, then her stomach, and then she dropped. Sigmund did his best to slow her down, but they both ended up on the floor. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yes. I think so.”

“Pocket,” Sigmund said at the ceiling, “Please stay there. We will be back soon.”

“Yes, sir.” came the small and somewhat dejected reply.

Exiting the small room, candle in hand, they could see that they were now in a basement hallway. Their small light could not penetrate the length of it, but it showed clearly the poor and dirty surroundings. Sigmund strained his hearing and was able to make out the sound of water dripping, an animal squeak, and what had to be some man made noises from somewhere further down the darkness. In looking toward the sound, he thought he could make out a hint of a light, but wasn’t sure if his eyes were playing tricks on him.

Despite their caution and slowness, Sigmund and Charlotte had difficulties navigating the space. Debris, puddles, and who-knew-what-else, caused them to stumble and fall on more than one occasion. After each time, they waited and listened for some response and when enough time passed they continued on.

As they went farther, they could see that the small light was real and was actually a bit of illumination leaking under a closed door. Before they reached it, they could hear noises coming from inside. Moving right up next to the door, the sounds of someone moving around, including the occasional clink of glass could be heard clearly.

“What now?” whispered Charlotte.

Sigmund put his finger to his lips and slowly tried the handle. It was locked. Quietly releasing it, he moved away from the door and indicated for Charlotte to follow. They stopped at an open doorway that was just prior to the illuminated one.

“Do you think you can pick the lock?” Charlotte asked.

“Yes, I can, but I don’t think I could do it quietly enough. Whoever is on the other side is not far away from the door and would probably hear us.”

“We simply cannot leave without finding out what is happening in there,” Charlotte whispered determinedly.

Sigmund could not agree more. You do not give up at the first sign of trouble, or second. “Agreed. However, I think we will have to wait for whoever is in there to come out. We have to at least identify who is behind this.”

“Is it not clear that it is Doctor Madfyre?”

“I will admit that it seems likely, but, as my friend Chief Inspector Holmes would tell you, knowing the truth is different than proving the truth.”

“Fair enough,” Charlotte conceded. “I guess it is not all that different than news reporting. A story is nothing without facts.”

Sigmund nodded in the darkness and turned his attention to the wall that was shared with the other room. Outside of some faint sounds, not much could be heard, which made the loud
thump
seem that much louder and caused both Charlotte and Sigmund to startle and look at each other in confusion.

After a few moments of silence, their hearts started to beat normally; well, at least normal for their situation. They again found themselves waiting and listening. However, the muffled sounds had stopped completely and did not return. It must have been close to half an hour until there was another noise from the unknown room. This noise was not at all muffled, but was loud and it was clear.

“Help! Help me!”

37.

Sigmund and Charlotte looked at each other with wide eyes. A decision had to be made. Stay hidden and see what happens, or expose themselves and help whoever was in that room.

“Help! Help, please!”

Without a word, both Charlotte and Sigmund headed to the occupied room. A cry for help is hard to ignore and neither of them could stomach waiting. Handing the candle to Charlotte, Sigmund pulled out the blackjack that Holmes had provided via Zachary, and with it at the ready started to slam the door with his shoulder. The lack of care that the basement received showed clearly when the door gave way after only two attempts to break it open.

With blackjack poised, Sigmund stepped in the room and scanned for danger. Charlotte was right behind him – not a surprise as she had proven herself as one who does not simply stand by. However, there was no danger to be found. It was a small laboratory, lit by a couple candles and an oil lamp on the lab desk. Of most notice was a person lying on the ground, some blood near his head.

“Oh, thank goodness!” said a man strapped to a bed.

Before moving over to the man, Sigmund stooped by the body that was face down on the floor. Something about this person looked a little familiar and Sigmund couldn’t help but exclaim, “What?” in pure surprise when he rolled the body over and saw Xavier Dalby, the silent chess player. There was a large wound on his head, as if he had hit it on something. No breath could be felt and when Sigmund put his ear to the chest, there was no heartbeat either.

“Please, get me out of here!” said the man anxiously. Sigmund was still in shock and hardly noticed Charlotte going over to the person at the table.

“Mr. Thursby?” Charlotte asked in surprise. “What is happening?”

Sigmund finally looked up and recognized that the strapped down man was indeed the Head Orderly, the one that stopped Mr. Pegg from continuing to beat him.

While Charlotte released the straps, Thursby said, “He was going to hurt me. He talked about some experiment.” His voice was excited and his eyes were wild.

Cannot blame him
, thought Sigmund. Then, “Wait! Did you say that he
spoke
to you?”

Thursby continued, “Yes, that is right. He was not a silent lunatic as he let on, he was here with a purpose! I think he is behind the missing patients!”

The fact that it was not Doctor Madfyre was surprise enough, but to be Xavier, a man that Sigmund had spent time with nearly every day, was very difficult to come to terms with.

“What was he doing down here?” Sigmund asked.

“I’m not exactly sure,” responded Thursby, now free from restraints. He walked over to the lab table and looked over the bottles. “Perhaps when Doctor Madfyre sees these chemicals, he can determine what the goal was.”

“What happened to him?” Charlotte asked, indicating the body on the floor.

“That is a very good question,” responded Thursby. “I was working late and must have been drugged, for the next thing I remember was being strapped to that bed and this man on the floor.”

“There is some blood on the edge of this table, perhaps he slipped and hit his head?” Sigmund offered.

“Hmm, maybe. Hopefully. He was going to kill me!” Thursby was still in a state of excitement. “But, what are you two doing here?”

Sigmund could not see a reason to keep his purpose hidden anymore. “Mr. Thursby, I’m here to investigate the missing patients. I am not an insane person, but am working with Chief Inspector Holmes.”

“Incredible,” said Thursby. “And you Miss, are you working with him?”

“No. Although I am also here on false pretenses, this investigation is pure coincidence. I work for
The Strand Magazine
and am writing an article on life in Bedlam Asylum.”

“Like Nelly Bly,” Thursby commented.

Sigmund saw Charlotte smile at the reference. “That’s right,” she said. “And I will gladly admit that you, Mr. Thursby, will be well reported on. However, most will not.”

Nodding in understanding, Thursby said, “That is kind of you. I try to help these poor patients, but it is difficult.” Then, shaking his head, he added, “Between you two and this maniac on the floor, I start to wonder if anyone is who they claim to be.

They all looked down at Xavier silently until Thursby said, “I wonder who he really is. Why don’t you check his pockets? Maybe there is something to identify him.”

Sigmund bent down to see if there was any clues as to who Xavier was and perhaps what he was after. When a handkerchief was suddenly placed over his nose and mouth, Sigmund tried to shake it off but his crouching position gave him almost no leverage and he couldn’t break free. The smell was familiar.
Chloroform,
he thought just before blacking out.

38.

Charlotte watched as Sigmund, per Mr. Thursby’s suggestion, bent down to check the pockets of Xavier. It was hard to believe that a supposed patient was behind all of this, but then again, herself and Sigmund were ‘patients’ too. She felt a bit like Thursby in wondering if anyone who they seemed to be?

Just as Sigmund was about to reach into a pocket, Charlotte gasped when Mr. Thursby got behind Sigmund and placed a rag over his mouth. The quickness and surprise of it all momentarily paralyzed Charlotte. When Sigmund fell to the floor – unconscious? Dead? – Charlotte finally managed, “What…what are you doing?”

When Thursby looked at her, the frightened appearance he had had was gone. It was replaced by a calm determination that scared Charlotte to her core. “Mr. Thursby, please, what is going on?”

“Miss Charlotte, what is going on is the interruption of the greatest medical triumph in the history of insanity.”

“What? You? You are the one experimenting on the patients? I don’t understand.”

Thursby picked up a syringe from the lab table and moved towards the door, blocking the only exit. “Because no one else is helping!” he said angrily. “Doctor Madfyre was on the verge of something great, but he allowed weak morality to interfere. He failed to comprehend his
own
vision. I took up where he left off.”

Thursby took a step closer and Charlotte took one backwards. She could feel the wall behind her, which meant she did not have anywhere to go. “But you are killing people. Surely
any
sense of morality would condemn that?”

“People?” Thursby responded with disgust. “I think you are being generous, Miss Charlotte. Take Xavier here, at his best, he played chess and remained calm. What use is that to society? What use is that for anything?”

“Who are you to judge his life?” Charlotte asked with true anger. “Is it a crime to be like him?”

“There is no law in the books to condemn Xavier or those like him, but to give him the opportunity to help others, to contribute to society, even if it means his death, is greater than the law, stated or otherwise. What is better than a worthless life given meaning?”

Charlotte’s horror at what she was hearing was growing, but her situation was more worrisome and immediate. What was perhaps most confusing was that Mr. Thursby was one of the nicest of all the staff. What could have happened to make him like this? “Mr. Thursby, I have seen you speak kindly of the patients here, even come to their protection. What has happened to you?”

Thursby stared at her while contemplating the question. “I will admit to a division in perspective. But you see, the serum that Madfyre had developed those years past, could also work in reverse. Instead of balancing an unbalanced mind, it can cause a balanced mind to increase in a given direction. I am not a doctor, nor did I go to any medical school, but with the help of the serum, I could study chemistry, biology, anatomy, and come to new and exciting conclusions. It also helps me reason clearly, to not be burdened by the lesser concerns of societal feelings, the feelings that stopped Madfyre’s promising work.”

“Why doesn’t the serum kill you if it is killing these patients?”

“A combination of dosage, administration technique, and version of the serum makes all the difference.”

He took another step forward, syringe glistening in the lamp light, and Charlotte took a step to the side. Her eyes scanned the room for options. There were some bottles on the lab table, perhaps she could use them, or their contents as a weapon. Before she could act on that thought, Thursby rushed at her. Her mind focused on one thing, the syringe. Both hands grasped his wrist as his body slammed into her. The force of him pushed her painfully against the wall, but she didn’t lose her grip on his arm.

The needle hung inches from her face, shaking as the two of them struggled in opposite directions. While both her hands were occupied with his one, Thursby’s free hand closed around Charlotte’s throat. She still focused on the syringe, but the lack of oxygen was becoming a greater concern by the second. Something had to change, and soon. With desperation, she swung her entire body to the side, breaking the grip on her neck, but weakening her grip on the arm with the syringe. With terror, she felt a pinch in her side as the needle pierced her.

Letting go of the wrist she looked up as Thursby backed away from her. “What have you done?” she asked desperately.

“I have overcome another obstacle, Miss Charlotte.”

She felt strange. Whether or not the injection could work that fast, she had no idea. Nothing about this situation would make her feel anything
but
strange. The unknown of her immediate future made her stomach ill, her vision swam, and she had to sit before she passed out. She managed to find the edge of the patient bed and sat down hard. Just the thought of this chemical flowing through her system, perhaps changing her brain was horrifying.

She looked over at Sigmund and Xavier, slumped on the floor, and struggled not to vomit. Somewhere, deep in the back of her mind, a thought struggled forward – your article will not be written, these people will not be helped, Jena and Anne will not be released.

She didn’t notice anything that Thursby was doing in those instants and did not even react when she finally realized that he was standing in front of her with rag in hand. The rag approached her face and she welcomed the black release it gave to the light of fear.