2

Chapter 2 of Disease

I know who you really are, Señor Thurman. The Gods have spoken it to me. They have told me all about you. They have told me of your struggle with their love before their judgment, and your ability to run away from it. I know now of the things you have heard and seen, and wish for you to leave this god-forsaken place. For indeed, no place like this can have God in it.

Perhaps that is why I am here.

“Man, they really laid a number on you. Taking you out with a jolt without even making you scream? I’ve never seen anything like that, not in all my years here at Connelly. I think you’ve set a record.”

“Bai, quit talkin’ to an unconscious man. You know they always wake up thinkin’ we’re the love of their life or something. I personally do not want another manly face hittin’ on me. No sir, I do not shoot that way.”

“Well, he did. The entire Mush Pit saw. You couldn’t walk ten feet without bumping into someone’s nose trying to get a look at it.”

“That doesn’t mean you just tell him about it. He probably can’t even hear you.”

“So?

“I swear, sometimes I wonder why we’re friends.”

“Probably because we’ve been cellmates for twenty years.”

“You obviously don’t know how long seven months is.”

“Well, being cellmates with you certainly FEELS that long.”

“Ah. Right. Oh wait, not ‘cellmates’. ‘Roommates’. We wouldn’t want to make the poor little nurses unhappy. Wouldn’t want to end up like this fella’ right here, now would we?”

“No sir.”

“Good, So shut your darn mouth. He looks like he’s about to wake up. Mornin’, sunshine! Welcome to Hell.”

Robert’s mind swam out of blackness for the second time that day, spiriting him away from former thoughts about Jessica and Elaine. He groaned inwardly, desperately attempting to get the memories back. He had been content and happy in the world of phantasms, since he had dreamt he was-

No. Stop. No more. He thought, as he reversed his efforts to pushing away the pains and memories of his past. He didn't want to think about his beautiful wife or his amazing daughter under any circumstances, even if the memories were happy. No happy memory could make up for the horrors that had occurred. The horrors of his own hands.

Forcing himself to ignore the headache that refused to go away, he opened his eyes and immediately took in the two gruff, smiling faces that were above his head. He blinked twice, trying to see if the strange personages he saw were real or just a figment of his diseased imagination. Possibly both.

They were two of the most intimidating men Robert had ever seen. The first was a black man, dark as an ebony stallion, with his arms crossed and a contemplative look on his face. His hair hung in waves of dreadlocks, long past his shoulders and starting to make its way down his rippling back. Robert gaped at the obvious power this man commanded, with the strength to move mountains held between his shoulders and his elbows. Yet this man seemed to be as nervous as a mouse, with nervous tick of wringing hands disrupting the calm that Robert had first perceived. The one most noticeable thing about the man, though, was that his eyes were strangely angular, like an Asian’s eyes. They gave him the semblance of black panther, with muscles big enough to tear prey apart and eyes piercing enough to find them in the black of night. Robert shivered, and forced his eyes away to look at the other. He was white, with a lanky build that looked bleached of all color, like a shirt left outside too long in the sun. His pockmarked scalp shone free on his head as a contrast to his lanky frame, with the harsh light of the room reflecting off the lathered skin and into Robert’s eyes. Robert chuckled a bit, having never thought that baldness could be so painful.

“What’s so funny, man? My beautiful features too much for your petty tastes in human interaction?” The man said, lopsided grin becoming sharper and more sinister as the words tumbled out of his disgusting mouth. His teeth were a deep goldenrod, with lumps and white clusters decorating the decayed dentures, and ugly spittle hung from his lips.

“Darnell, do you think he talks?” The black man next to him asked, pushing his companion away to look at Robert as if he were a newborn babe and the man was a proud mother showing him off to her friends.

“Of course he talks, numbskull! They wouldn’t have let him in unless he told them what’s wrong with him! Geez, do I have to all of your thinking for you?” He exclaimed exasperatedly. The black man opened his mouth as if to say something profound, but Robert cut him off before he could dig himself into a deeper hole than the one he was in.

“Um, there’s nothing wrong with me,” He said tentatively, afraid of the reaction from the unstable men. “I don’t know why I’m here.” Darnell scoffed loudly, more spit flying from his mouth to land on Robert. Robert wiped it off, figuring he would need an umbrella before long.

“Yep, neither do we. No idea. We’re both purty, the way we like it. Minus the fact that I’ve got schizophrenia something fierce, and Bai here is bipolar.” Darnell proclaimed loudly, looking straight at Robert, but with his mind seemingly off in the distance. He had a blank look in his eyes, and his head was cocked to one side, like he was listening to something. Bai looked very concerned, and he roughly pulled Robert over to one side of the room, speaking to him in a low, sincere voice.

“His rough, southern accent isn’t actually who he is.” He said, gesturing to the man in the corner. “When I met him, he was a scientist from Oxford, one of the most brilliant in the world. Had a degree in astrophysics and would barely talk at all. Sometimes, he would go days without saying a single word. Don’t ask me how he managed to function in life, I can’t imagine how he ever did anything. The man can differentiate complex equations that cause stars to explode, but he can’t even order a pizza. Lately, though, because of his disease, he’s been deteriorating into this talkative, insulting freak. I’m not a cowardly man, but I’m terrified of this guy. He used to be my best friend, but I barely know him anymore.” Bai sputtered, making several gestures to prove his point. Robert looked over and could see what he was talking about. Darnell looked eerie, the way he was just standing there with his head cocked to the side. His mouth was open, and drool started to seep out of the left corner of his mouth, tracing a wet trail down his lower jaw and onto his beard stubble. His hands were clenched into white fists, and he had a nervous twitch in his upper thigh, making his entire leg bounce up and down. He looked as though he were a warrior about to go into battle, with all the courage and strength in the world to help him along. Bai spoke again.

“I’m sorry, I haven’t even introduced myself. My name’s Bai Williams.” He reached over with a meaty hand and gave Robert a firm handshake. “What’s yours?” Bai asked. Robert sucked in a breath.

“Robert Thurman.” He said. “ And I don’t even know where I am.”

“Well,” Bai replied. “That one is easy. You’re at Connelly Mental Health Institution, sanctuary of the insane. Home of the unstable. Anything goes in here, because none of us understand the difference between right and wrong. Well, except for yours truly. I may just be the sanest person in this godforsaken place.” Robert just gaped at Bai. What was this guy talking about? Robert briefly wondered if some drugs had survived the Burst.

Darnell snorted from across the room, his trance obviously ended.

“That’s because you haven’t gotten a second opinion.” He cackled. “We’re all insane simply because we think that we’re the only ones here who aren’t. The very fact that we try to convince ourselves every day of our sanity just goes to show how close to slipping we really are.”

For some reason, this statement made Robert cringe. He could sense the truth in it, and it unnerved him. He quickly tried to steer the conversation to where he wanted it.

“So, anyway, what’s life like here?” He asked, probing for information. He wanted to know how this place survived during the Raze.

“Easy, if you know how to stay out of the way.” Bai replied. “This place mostly has a bunch of unstable people who don’t want to have anything to do with each other, so they try to keep to themselves. Most of the time it works, so they’re nice and easy to control.”

“And when they don’t keep to themselves?” Robert asked quietly.

“You don’t want to know the answer to that one, pal. It might make your dreams a little crazy.” Darnell chimed in. Robert swallowed hard and nodded.

“Well!” Darnell said, walking over to the door of the cell. In a few seconds, a buzzer sounded, and the door opened. “Time to show you around the old homestead.”

* * *

The dank prison yard stunk like a half-washed skunk, and no matter how hard Robert tried, he could not mask the ungodly scent from his nostrils.

“What happened here?” He asked in a nasally voice, childishly pinching his nose shut to stop up the horrid stench.

“Hm?” Darnell said absently, then turned to Robert. “Oh, the smell? Years upon years of incontinent nutjobs and sweaty men does that to a place, even one like this.” He replied, sidestepping a raving old man that had passed between them, muttering to himself. “Save the ladies, save all the ladies. They need saving. Oh boy, you gotta save them. You man, you gotta save them. Save the ladies.”

Robert peered back at the small man with a look of consternation. He had never imagined he would have to be around insane people like this, with each one being a gibbering moron who thought they were the exact opposite of what their condition evoked in them.

“Hey, man” A deep voice said behind Robert. “Would you rather crap out a thousand gallons of mayonnaise or a shuriken?”

Robert was perturbed, and quickly shied away from the voice.

“So what exactly are we going to be doing here?” Robert inquired, jogging to catch up to Darnell, who had quickened his pace at the sight of a large mob of men that were gathered in the middle of the yard.

“Here, my uneducated friend, we are going to teach you how to have fun.” Darnell replied, his grin widening at the last word. Robert cringed, inwardly attempting to distance himself from the strange man. He didn’t possess any desire to discover what Darnell’s definition of “fun” was.

As they moved toward the roiling crowd, Robert could begin to pick out some of the words and phrases that were being shouted by the mob.

“Get him!”

“Wipe that sucker!”

“You got this, Kal!”

Darnell grabbed Robert’s shoulder abruptly, and began to make his way through the tight crowd with Robert in tow. Darnell had a strong grip, so no matter how hard Robert tried, he could not wrest himself the monstrous grip he was held by. He watched helplessly as he was dragged through the mass of orange bodies and into the center of the ring, where two men were locked around each other so tightly that Robert could not tell whose limbs were whose. The men were both grunting fiercely, with each sweating profusely from the strain that was present in the tension between their limbs and the trembling that stood in their joints.

“What is this?” Robert shouted, hoping to catch the attention of the violent men. He was not unsuccessful. One of the men on the ground turned his head, surprise etched into his face. The second man shouted in triumph, and promptly tossed the man around behind him, and the sound of breaking bones was audible, along with the man’s shrieks as his skeleton was torn apart by the sheer force of the throw.

No one ran to his aid. They all stood there, milling about themselves, while the man on the ground continued to bawl and gibber, “It was mine, all mine! You took it! It was mine, and you took it! I’ll get you for this, you son of a-!”

Robert looked away, turning towards Darnell. He had a wicked smile on his face, and he was cracking his knuckles, each pop resounding in Robert’s ears as the truth dawned on him. Darnell was going to have him fight this gorilla of a man. This was his definition of “fun”.

“Come on, little man.” A deep bass voice said behind Robert, and he turned slowly to face his opponent.

“Robert, allow me to introduce Drake Kashkarov.” Darnell said, giving a grandiose gesture to the sweating man behind him before disappearing into the crowd.

“I’ve got some fun in store for you.” The mountain of a man said, his eyes glinting with madness and his grin showing just how much fun the ensuing fight would be for him.

Robert tried to back away from the intimidating figure. He couldn’t get mixed up in something like this. He needed to find Terrence, Julius, his team, but the roiling mass of bodies behind him pushed him back into the impromptly made ring.

“Awww, does the little kitty want out?” The huge man drooled, looking at Robert with fake sympathy. “Maybe Drake here can play with the little kitty, make him feel welcome.”

Despite himself, Robert gulped, an audible noise that seemed to permeate throughout the crowd, and many of the inmates snickered. Drake eyed Robert with a look of evil glee, and he slowly began sliding in a circle around Robert. Taking a deep breath, Robert immediately fell back on his fighting days, crouching on the balls of his feet, and started circling the skirts of the ring, keeping Drake within view.

“Ah, the little kitty can dance. Well, every dancer needs a partner!” He screamed, lunging toward Robert with the last word, his arm reaching out to grab Robert’s. Robert quickly whirled to the side, spinning out of reach of the big man, who was momentarily stunned after running into the crowd, who quickly pushed him back.

NOW.

Robert quickly jabbed his balled right fist into Drake’s spine, hitting between the third and fourth vertebrae. Drake shrieked, jerking upright to retaliate, but Robert was again out of his reach. Drake spun around, fury burning in his insane eyes.

“I’ll get you for that, my little kitty. Drake doesn’t like it when his pets refuse to roll over.” He seethed, the harsh words hissing out of his clenched teeth.

Robert raised his fists, sending a clear message that he would not roll over and die.

Drake howled, chords standing out on his neck, then slowly began circling the ring again, warily watching Robert. For a few moments, the entire yard was silent as the two fighters circled each other.

NOW.

Robert dashed toward Drake’s left side, aiming for his shoulder. Drake braced himself, bringing his left leg up to kick Robert out of the way; at the last second, though, Robert spun to his right, bringing his left leg around for a powerful roundhouse kick. His heel connected with Drake’s ribs, and with a whoosh of air from his lungs, Drake flew three feet to the left. He crashed into two of his compatriots, who quickly hoisted himself up, fanning his face and gibbering to each other. Drake slapped their hands away, and got on his own feet. He roared, a beastly sound that flew through the yard, alerting all to the attack that was about to ensue. He barreled towards Robert, screaming the entire way, ready to disembowel his disobedient pet.

NOW.

Robert stepped to the side, and Drake did not have enough time to correct his course. As he ran past, Robert brought his fists together and slammed them into the small of the big man’s back. A crack sounded through the air, and Robert could feel the man’s spine shatter under the force of his massive blow. Drake flopped to the ground and lay moaning, his back utterly destroyed.

Drake’s cohorts howled themselves, ripping off the tops of their jumpsuits to reveal tight bodies rippling with thick muscles. They jumped into the ring, crouching on the balls of their feet, mimicking Robert’s stance.

Robert gave the only response he could give; he raised his left palm up to the sky, towards the men, and beckoned them forward with his fingers.

NOW.

They didn’t think twice before attacking. They screamed, and sprang towards him, one on either side. As Robert tensed, he observed that, although ferocious and strengthened, the men were untrained in fighting. He allowed himself a tight grin. This would be too easy. As the men approached, Robert knelt down, his head curled close to his knee, closed his eyes, and used his senses to devise when the men would approach him. When they arrived at either side of Robert and prepared to strike, Robert, like a viper striking, whipped both fists out forward on either side of his body and slammed his clenched fists into both men’s groins.

They made no sound as they crumpled to the floor.

Robert stayed down on the ground, fists still out, and breathed heavily. After a few moments of rest, he stood up shakily, eyes still closed. He took an uncertain step forward.

And one of the men on the ground jabbed his fist into the back of Robert’s knee, sending him crashing to the ground.

“Got him! Finally. Man, I didn’t even know that weenies could be so good at this,” an unknown voice proclaimed, as Robert lay facedown on the ground.

They were his last words.

NOW.

Robert had quickly recovered from the blow, and stood up faster than a normal man should be able to. He sprinted toward the voice with vengeance in his eyes and his hands balled into dangerous fists. Barely breathing when he reached the man who spoke, he reared back his massive arms and slammed the butt of his hand with all his might and fury into the man’s nose, cracking it into pieces and shoving them into his brain. Blood spurted, and the man toppled like a leaf in the wind, a startled look etched forever into his features. He was dead before he hit the ground, without even a scream escaping his chapped lips.

Robert stood there, fists clenched and breathing heavily. The men around stared in shock, unable to speak. Many even looked like women, with hands over their mouths and tears in their eyes. Eerie silence surrounded them, and no one moved a muscle.

“Yeah, man! Get him!” Robert heard Darnell say, his voice moving closer as he pushed through the crowd. “Waste that little son of a-” Darnell’s voice broke off abruptly as he moved to the front and saw what Robert had done. His jaw dropped, eyes widened, and he stood in silence with the rest of them, bewildered at the gruesome scene before them.

“Man, what happened?” He asked, tiptoeing slowly towards Robert. Robert looked down at the body, and his vision cleared. Suddenly he could feel the sticky feeling of blood on his hands, and could smell its metallic scent. He looked at his own hands, as if wondering what manic possession had taken hold.

Robert fell to his knees, clutching his head at the sudden memories that came flooding in. Memories of the Burst, of Jessica, of an event just like this one. He fought to keep them down, exerted all his energy, but for all of his efforts, they kept coming in. Robert felt the pressure in his brain building up, until it was too much. He let out a monstrous scream, burying his head in his hands, and did not stop until he ran out of breath. He never wanted this. He had no idea where he was, where his friends were.

Darnell rushed towards Robert, looking to console, but simply stood over him, not having the empathetic skills needed to comfort a man in the throes of grief. So Robert knelt alone on the cold ground, memories flashing before his eyes, screaming no longer, the only sounds escaping him being the words, “Not again. Never again. Oh please, God, never again.”