"You’d think they’d change the number once in a while," she said fussily. "Or at least come up with a decent combination. I mean, it’s been 4321 for as long as I’ve been coming here. Just so the staff won’t have any trouble remembering it in an emergency. Anybody could guess it! Or at least, anyone with the normal number of marbles. I’d write a stern letter to the hospital governors, but you never know. I might need to break in here some day. Or break out."
The door swung open, revealing a pleasant open lobby. Nice carpeting, comfortable furnishings, plaques and commendations on the walls. The only off note was that the receptionist sat in her own little cubicle behind heavy reinforced glass. She was a middle-aged, matronly figure in the ubiquitous hospital whites, with an easy, welcoming smile. Molly smiled and nodded familiarly back, and the receptionist pushed a guestbook through a narrow slit in the glass for us to sign. After only a moment’s pause, I wrote Mr. & Mrs. Jones.
"Oh, that’s nice," the receptionist said cheerfully. "Makes a change from all the Smiths we get coming here. Most people don’t care to use their real names, when they come visiting relations. Just in case someone finds out there’s a cannibal in the family. Though of course we’re always very careful about things like that. Good to see you back again, Molly. Most people don’t like to come to a place like this. We get all the bad ones here: the child killers, the serial rapists, the animal mutilators…All the patients no one else wants, or can’t cope with. We had the Dorset Ripper in here just the other week. No trouble at all; sweet as you like."
"We’re here to see my uncle John," said Molly, cutting off a monologue that threatened to run and run. "John Stapleton?"
"Of course you are, dear. Oddly John, we call him. He’s never a problem, bless him. Don’t know what he did to get sent to a place like this, before my time, but it must have been pretty bad, because there’s never any talk of transferring him to a less secure establishment, for all his good behaviour. Remember: always watch your back here, dears. Many of the patients in this place are the last faces a lot of people ever saw. Now, you make yourselves comfortable, and I’ll call for an attendant to escort you up to the top floor."
Molly stretched out in a comfortable chair, but I didn’t feel like sitting. This was not a comfortable place, for all the trimmings. I looked through an open door into an adjoining parlour, where patients were just sitting around in dressing gowns. It wasn’t what I’d expected. No thrashing figures in straitjackets, no muscular guards hovering, ready to beat the crap out of anyone who misbehaved. Instead, just a collection of very ordinary-looking people, sitting in chairs, flicking through papers and magazines, or watching morning television shows. The only attendant nurse was sitting at the back, doing the Times crossword puzzle. Molly moved in beside me, and I jumped a little despite myself.
"It’s all done with kindness, these days," she said quietly. "The chemical cosh. They’re all doped to the eyeballs, so they won’t cause any trouble or talk back. It’s a lot cheaper than restraints. Though you’ll notice there are surveillance cameras everywhere, just in case. The real hard cases are kept out of sight, so as not to upset the visitors."
"That’s right," said our escort, appearing suddenly beside us. Another muscular man in hospital whites, this time with a shaved head and a self-satisfied smirk on his face. He kept one hand on his belt, right next to the truncheon. He didn’t offer to shake hands. "Hi; I’m Tommy. Ask me about anything. I’ve been here, like, forever. It’s good money, with lots of vacation time, and the work’s not exactly demanding most of the time. Hardly any excitement, these days. The wonders of modern science; better living through chemistry." He looked though the door into the parlour and sniggered openly. "Look at them. You could set fire to their slippers, and they wouldn’t notice. Like your missus said, we keep the real animals downstairs, in the Bear Pit." He sniggered again, looking sideways at Molly. "We had to put your uncle John down there a few times, when he first came here. He didn’t give us any more trouble after that."
"How is he?" said Molly. "Is my uncle having one of his good days?"
Tommy shrugged easily. "Hard to tell, with him. Long as he behaves himself, that’s all I care about." He sniggered again, this time looking at me. "Oddly John—that’s what we call him. He’s really not all there, poor bastard. First visit, is it? Don’t expect too much from the old man. We keep him well tranked, so he won’t go wandering. A lot of them get restless legs…"
"It’s nice to know you’re taking such good care of my uncle," said Molly. "I must be sure to give you a little something, before I leave."
Tommy smiled and nodded, the fool.
He and Molly talked some more, but I stopped listening. I used the Sight the torc gave me to see the lobby as it really was, hidden from merely mortal gaze. There were demons everywhere, scuttling across the ceiling and clinging to the walls and riding on the backs of the patients. Demons don’t cause madness, but they delight in the suffering it causes. Some of the demons had grown fat and distended, like parasites gorged on too much blood. A squat black insect thing squatted at the attendant nurse’s feet, like a faithful pet waiting for a treat. Some of the demons realised I could See them. They stirred uneasily, sinking barbed claws and hooks into the patients’ backs and shoulders, making it clear they wouldn’t give up their victims without a fight. I wanted to kill every demon in the room, rip them off their victims, feel their skulls and carapaces break and shatter under my golden fists, but I couldn’t risk making a scene. I needed to see Oddly John. I needed to know what he knew.
I turned my back on the parlour and shut down my Sight. There’s a reason why I don’t use it very often. If we could all See the world as it truly is, all the time, we couldn’t bear to live in it. Not even Droods. Ignorance can be bliss.
I went back to stand with Molly, who immediately sensed my impatience. She stopped pressing the guard for information and said she’d like to see her uncle now. Tommy shrugged and led us over to the elevators. And all the time I was thinking, Three days, four tops. Part of me wanted to sulk and stamp my feet and shout, Not fair! But when had my life ever been fair? I couldn’t afford to give in to hysterics. Had to stay calm and focused. Perhaps, at the end, all that would be left to me was to go down fighting and take as many of my enemies with me as I could.
If so, I couldn’t wait to get started.
Tommy took us up to the top floor. The elevator had its own security override lock. I peered unobtrusively over Tommy’s shoulder as he punched in the combination. Sure enough, it was 4321. A bunch of determined Boy Scouts could burgle this place. Probably get a badge, these days.
"Why Oddly John?" I said abruptly. "What is it that’s so…odd, about him?"
Tommy sniggered. I was getting really tired of that sound. "Because he talks to people that aren’t there and often won’t talk to people that are. He sees things no one else can and talks all kinds of rubbish about it, if you’ll let him. Lives in a world all his own, that one. Used to have really bad nightmares, until we increased his medication. To be fair, though, he’s never violent; eats up all his food and never makes a fuss about taking his pills. That’s the best kind of patient, in a place like this."
He led us all the way down to the end of the corridor. Its walls had been painted in pale pastel colours, so as not to overexcite the patients. Motion-sensitive cameras followed us all the way. The door to Oddly John’s room stood halfway open. Tommy stood back and gestured for Molly and me to go in.
"Any problems, there’s a big red panic button right by the door. Hit that, and I’ll come running. Don’t be afraid to use it. We had a nurse here not long ago who let a guy get too close to her, and he bit half her face off before we could pull him away. We kicked the crap out of him afterwards, but it didn’t do her much good. Never came back. Don’t blame her. Heard she got some really decent compensation money, though. Remember: no matter how nice and sweet they are to you, you can’t trust any of them. They’re all sick, vicious bastards, or they wouldn’t be here. No offence, Molly. You have a nice visit with your uncle John."