A Cure for Madness (12 page)

He rolled off me when he was done. I scrambled to my feet, surprised that my legs were still working, and started to run away—not knowing where I was going, just wanting to get away. I chanced a glance behind me as I ran. He was still sitting there in the pool, his pants around his knees, his limp penis lying waterlogged against his leg.

“Call me, or I’ll kill you!” he yelled, and I turned my back to him and kept on running.

Everything that happened after that is very vague in my mind. I put those memories behind a wall in my mind, along with all the other things I don’t like to think about. I do remember arriving back at home, soaking wet, and ignoring my mother’s questions while I locked myself in the bathroom and spent the next hour in the shower, trying to expel all remnants of him from my body.

A few weeks later, once I worked up the nerve, I walked alone into the downtown police station. I made a statement, but the officer gave me a strange look. And then he asked me if I really wanted to lay charges against the mayor’s son. Looking me straight in the eye, he threatened to slap me with mischief charges if it turned out I’d made it up. I just shook my head and left.

Then I told my parents, thinking they might help me. But they brushed it off. They told me I was probably exaggerating, and besides, they had always advised me to only date “nice Christian boys.” If I’d listened, this never would have happened. And we didn’t have the money to get involved in some legal brouhaha. They didn’t even ask for his name.

I knew now, in hindsight, that they had been under a lot of stress with Wes, that they probably hadn’t been equipped to handle yet another crisis in their family. But at the time, hearing those words, being so casually dismissed by the people who were supposed to love me and take care of me . . . it was more than I could take. I walked out of the house, stumbled down the middle of the road, and finally sat down on the curb outside a three-story yellow Victorian with white window shutters. I made the decision, then and there, to leave Clarkeston as soon as possible, to never look back. To never need anyone again.

But Wes believed me. I didn’t tell him the details. No one knew those. But I started to cry when he asked me how it went with “preppy boy,” and he gently teased the truth out of me. I begged him not to tell anyone, said I just wanted to forget about it, and he promised, albeit reluctantly.

A few days later, one of my friends told me that the mayor’s son had been mugged the night before while leaving a bar. According to the gossip raging around campus, he was fighting for his life in the hospital.

When the police showed up the next day, I didn’t have to ask why. Even then, Wes wasn’t hard to pick out of a crowd—he already had several tattoos, and his hair was bright blue. True to his promise, he didn’t tell them why he’d chosen to beat Myles to a pulp that night. He had looked the police officer straight in the eye and said, “Demons.”

“You don’t have to say anything until your lawyer arrives,” the officer had cautioned him.

“I don’t need a lawyer. I have the Lord Jesus Christ on my side. And I tell you, that boy was full of demons.”

After almost a year of lawyers and psychiatrists and judges, Wes avoided criminal charges and was sent to Riverside Psychiatric Facility. That whole time, he never spoke a word about what had really happened.

But I never forgot how it felt to be trapped.

I stopped pacing the hospital room and sat down again. If I had believed in God, I would have tried bargaining, but I knew it was hopeless. There wasn’t anything to do but wait. It was quite possible I wouldn’t get a second chance to right all my wrongs; that they would lock me in a room, or keep me strapped down for months or even years . . . And that was assuming a cure would ever be found.

But if I did get a second chance, I knew I had to take it. Wes was the only one who had believed me, the only one who had come to my defense. And I had abandoned him again.

For the first time since I had arrived back home, I let myself cry. I knelt down on the cold, hard floor and wept for my parents, for Wes . . . and for myself. I wept because I had allowed that one horrible night to turn my heart into stone, because I’d shut out the person who needed me most.

I had no idea where Dr. Hansen and his colleagues had taken Wes, when he would be released, or what kinds of tests they planned to do on him. But I’d seen the terror in his eyes as they dragged him away. His voice echoed in the empty room around me as I clutched my face in my hands:
Clare! Help me!

I will
, I promised him.
If I get out of here, I will find you.

If.

I would not be on that flight even if I could.

The two hours had come and gone, and still Kenneth had not returned. I finally called Rob to explain where I was. He wanted to come see me, but I told him to stay as far away from the hospital as he could. I sent Latasha a text, telling her I wasn’t coming home that night after all. I’d explain the rest later. After crying myself dry and evacuating my bowels in the tiny adjoining bathroom at least five times, I lay on the bed, limp with exhaustion.

A knock at the door made me sit bolt upright. A nurse opened the door slowly, but she didn’t come inside. “Clare Campbell?”

“Yes,” I whispered. Where was Kenneth?

“Dr. Chu asked me to tell you that your results won’t be ready until morning.”

“Where is he? Is he okay?”

“He’s busy with other patients,” she said. “He said to apologize and suggest you get some sleep. I’ve brought you some extra blankets, but I’m afraid you’ll have to stay in this room until your results are in. I also have some over-the-counter sleeping pills for you. Dr. Chu thought you might need them.”

She set a small plastic bag, a bottle of water, and two blankets down inside the room, then made a hasty exit and closed the door. I padded across the room and examined the two pills in the bag.

“Thanks,” I muttered, before tossing them down my throat.

I was groggy the next morning when the door opened and Kenneth came in. He no longer wore his hazmat suit, and he looked a little unsteady on his feet.

“Good morning,” he said, closing the door behind him.

“Hi,” I managed to squeak out, sliding off the bed. I couldn’t ask the question, so I just waited.

He responded by pulling me to his chest. “You’re fine, Clare,” he said. “Your test was negative. Perfectly normal.”

I sank to the floor, and he came with me. I sat limply on the linoleum tiles. “You’re okay,” he said over and over again, his arms still around me.

I’m okay
, I repeated to myself, barely able to believe it. “Thank you,” I finally managed to say.

“My pleasure,” he said. He got to his feet and held out a hand to help me up.

“Have you been working all night?” I asked.

“Yeah. Just finished. Going home to get some sleep now.”

“You deserve it. I’m going to find Wes. I should never”—my voice hitched—“have let them take him like that.”

“I can come with you to talk to them if you’d like,” he said. He grabbed his tablet off the counter and flicked through the screens. “I should be able to find out what room he’s in.”

I waited, still reveling in the relief of being Gaspereau-free.

Kenneth frowned. “Are you sure he’s here? I don’t see his name.”

“I assumed so,” I said with a scowl. “I mean, where else would he be? This is the only hospital in town.”

“There’s no record of him being here,” Kenneth said. “Not since he was discharged into your custody.”

“Maybe they just haven’t processed him yet?”

He scowled. “Unlikely, but I suppose it’s possible in this chaos.”

“Maybe . . . he’s somewhere else?” Haltingly, I told Kenneth the truth about the armed men, and how they had dragged my brother away.

A muscle under his eye twitched. “I know this is an emergency, but there are still rules. Wes doesn’t represent a threat. They should never have taken him without your consent.”

“I didn’t exactly stand in their way.” When he didn’t respond, I said, “I’m going to go down to the front desk; maybe they have more up-to-date information.”

“Okay. I’ll call over to the psych side and check things out there,” Kenneth said, but he was scowling. “Dr. Hansen didn’t give you any indication of what they were planning to do with your brother?”

“No. I just . . . trusted him,” I said, knowing how lame that sounded, how flimsy.

“Text me if you find him.” Kenneth fastened a mask on his face and left.

I ran down the stairs. “Hi,” I said to the woman at the information desk. “Wes Campbell. What room is he in?”

“Does he have Gaspereau? Because if so, you can’t see him,” she said.

“No. He came in with Dr. Hansen for some tests.”

“Who?”

“Dr. Hansen from the CDC. He was brought here by ambulance yesterday morning.”

She checked the computer. “I’m sorry, it looks like Wes was discharged two days ago.”

I huffed at her. “Yes, but he was readmitted. Where is Dr. Hansen? He’ll know where Wes is.”

She scowled as she returned her glance to the screen. “We don’t have a Dr. Hansen on staff here,” she said after a moment.

“I told you, he’s with the CDC,” I said, my voice rising. “Where else would he be?”

“I’m not in charge of the CDC,” the woman said waspishly.

“I
need
to see my brother,” I said, leaning over the desk.

She rolled her chair back. “Ma’am, you
need
to calm down.”

A soldier who had been stationed by the front doors walked toward us.

“Okay, okay, I’m calm,” I said, raising my hands. “I just have to make a phone call.” I went down a hallway and fished Dr. Hansen’s card out of my purse. My fingers tightened around my phone as I listened to it ring.

“
This is Stuart Hansen,” he answered after two rings.

“It’s Clare Campbell,” I said. “I want to know where my brother is.”

“Ah yes, Clare, thank you for calling. Wes is doing just fine.”

“I didn’t ask if he was fine; I want to know where he is. I’m at the hospital and they told me he’s not here.”

“Well, I’m afraid I can’t disclose his exact location at this time.”

My stomach turned. “What are you talking about? I’m his sister! I have a right to know!”

“I understand your concern, Clare. But it’s a national security issue at this point. A lot is riding on the results of these tests. I’m just trying to keep your brother safe.”

“Safe from what?”

“Clare, I promise I will let you know as soon as I have any information we can share. Remember what we talked about. If I can prove my theory, we’ll be one step closer to ending this crisis.”

“I don’t care about your theory, Doctor. I care about my brother. You don’t have his consent, or mine, to do any additional tests on him. I want you to let him go immediately.”

There was silence on the other end. Then he spoke. “Please understand, I am not your enemy. I am doing whatever I can to prevent the worst pandemic the world has ever seen. Under the law, your cooperation is appreciated but not required. I believe Wes has a role to play in ending this disease. If I’m right, you’ll soon be thanking me. You and everyone else.”

Then he hung up.

CHAPTER TEN

“Dammit!” I made another call, this time to Rob.
“It’s Clare.”

“Did you get your results?”

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“Thank God. I was so—”

“I’m really worried about Wes,” I blurted out. I filled him in on my change of heart and my search for Wes. “They won’t tell me where he is, but I know they’re not supposed to do anything to him without my consent, right? This Hansen guy is saying it’s ‘national security’ or some bullshit. He claims I don’t have a choice.”

On the other end, my uncle cursed loudly.

“Can’t you do something?” I asked. “What about your friend, the police chief?”

His voice was strained when he answered. “I don’t think Jim can help. Governor Preston has declared a state of emergency. The CDC is calling the shots, and the National Guard is here to back them up. They’re in charge now, not the police.”

A chill ran through my body. “They didn’t say anything about this at the announcement.”

“I imagine they’re downplaying it. People are panicked enough.”

“Well, screw that. Who do I talk to at the army? I’ll go to the governor’s office and tell
them
what happened. They’ll have to let him go.”

“Hang on a minute. I don’t want you getting in trouble. I told you, it’s a state of emergency. They can pretty much do whatever they want—the regular rules have gone out the window. That means they can detain anyone they want, as long as they have a good reason. There’s nothing voluntary about it.”

“That’s bullshit. There’s got to be some way around it.”

“Just wait it out for a bit longer,” Rob said. “I’ll see what else I can find out from Jim. You don’t want to mess with these people. They take this kind of thing
very
seriously.”

“So do I,” I said as I hung up. I slumped against the concrete wall, thinking about where they might have taken Wes. There were a few medical labs in town; maybe he was in one of those. Or maybe they had a secret laboratory in the basement of a building somewhere. Where would be the most practical place to take someone if you needed to run medical tests on them? Of course, perhaps I was in the right place after all; he could be hidden somewhere in this very hospital. But I would have bet a lot of money that my description was being made known to all the hospital security guards by now if that was the case. Maybe they’d taken him to Atlanta in a military plane. He could be anywhere.
I should never have let this happen
.

My phone buzzed with a text from Kenneth.
Any luck?

No. You?

Sorry, no. Looks like he’s not here.

Where are you?

In my office. Room 142.

I left the relative calm of the stairwell and made my way to Kenneth’s office. He was sitting at his desk, his head in his hands.

I sat in the chair opposite his. “How are you feeling?” I asked, though the answer was evident.

“Exhausted,” he muttered. “And . . . overwhelmed. You wouldn’t believe what it’s been like here over the past couple of weeks. I mean, nothing ever happens. And then we had a patient commit suicide, and now this whole nightmare . . .”

“Wait—you had a patient commit suicide?”

“Yeah. Over in the psych ward. Hung himself.”

My conversation with Wes replayed itself in my mind. “What was the patient’s name?”

Kenneth frowned slightly. “I don’t remember off the top of my head. Why?”

“Was it Winston Ling?”

His frown deepened. “Yes, that sounds right. Did you know him?”

I stood up, still trying to remember what exactly Wes had said. “No, but my brother did.”

“Really? I’m sorry to hear that.”

A crazy idea started to germinate in my mind. “Wes said this Ling guy was a scientist. He told Wes he used to work in a secret government lab.”

Kenneth leaned back in his chair and surveyed me with suspicion. “Okay, but remember that they were both in the psych ward . . .”

“We’re looking for Wes, right? What if the secret government lab this guy told Wes about is real, and that’s where they’ve taken him?”

“Clare, I really doubt that.”

“You have any better ideas?” I pulled my phone out and googled Dr. Winston Ling. “Ha! See?” I waved the display at him.

“See what?”

“First result. Dr. Winston Ling is—was—a researcher at the Maine Experimental Farm.”

“The what?”

“I don’t know, but it sounds like it could be a lab. And it’s just outside of town. I’m going to go check it out.”

“You’re not serious.”

“Wes was telling the truth about Ling. Maybe the rest isn’t so far off either.”

“It’s a hell of a connection to make.”

“What if it’s not? If you wanted to hide someone, and you knew of a secret lab nearby, why wouldn’t you use it?”

Kenneth put his head back into his hands. “Clare . . . I know you want to find your brother, but why don’t you just call the doctor from the CDC and ask where he is?”

“I did,” I snapped. “And he told me it’s a matter of national security. He wouldn’t tell me jack shit.”

He looked honestly surprised by my answer. “Really?”

“Yes, really! That’s why I think something suspicious is going on. In a state of emergency, the government can do whatever it wants without being held accountable. So they could have him locked up somewhere, and . . . and . . . they could be doing who knows what to him against his will. I’m not going to let that happen.”

I had wasted enough time arguing. I turned on my heel and headed back down the corridor. After a second, Kenneth came running after me. “Wait! Where are you going?”

“I told you. To the lab.”

“Clare, this is ridiculous. He won’t be there.”

“I won’t know until I look.”

“And you think they’ll let you in? If it really is some secret government facility, they don’t just let members of the public waltz into those places.”

I stopped by the front doors and looked him in the eye. “Then I won’t waltz.”

I turned to go, but he grabbed my arm.

“You always drove me a little crazy, you know that, right?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m coming with you.”

I shrugged and kept walking, but inside I was more than a little relieved. I had no idea what I’d find there.

Once we got in the car, he asked, “Where is this place?”

“Rural Road Five.”

“That’s way out there.”

“Yep.”

“I need to call my mother, let her know I’ll be late.” He looked tense as he dialed. I listened to him speak in rapid Mandarin. I couldn’t understand a word, but he sounded apologetic. Then he switched to English.

“Hi, baby,” he said, his tone soft. “Did you have a good night? Uh-huh. No, Daddy worked all night. I haven’t even slept yet! I know. Yes, I’ll be home today. Soon, I hope. I’m just helping my friend Clare with something. Yes, that’s her. Okay, I will. Really? What did Nai Nai tell you? Don’t be scared, baby. No, it’s going to be okay. I’ll be home soon, I promise. I love you. Bye.” He hung up. “Maisie says hi.”

I smiled. “Hi back. It’s great your mom can help look after her.”

“God yes. I don’t know what I’d do without her. Find a new line of work, probably.”

“Is she scared about Gaspereau?”

“Yes.” His jaw tightened. “It’s more my mother; she’s terrified. Maisie picks up on that. I’ve asked Mom to keep the TV off while Maisie’s around, but she wants to know what’s going on. And it doesn’t help that I’ve hardly been home this week.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I know you should be with her.”

“It’s okay. She understands that I’m trying to help people. I think.”

“She seems like a wonderful girl.”

“She is. She’s the best thing that ever happened to me. I never knew the mere existence of another person could make me so happy.”

My chest tightened. “That’s great.”

“So . . . what’s your plan?” Kenneth asked as we turned onto a country road riddled with potholes. I slowed down; according to my GPS, we were almost there.

“Well, if he’s in there, we’ll find whoever is in charge and demand they release him.”

“You said yourself they can do whatever they want. What if they still refuse?”

“Then I’ll think of something else,” I snapped.

His eyes tightened.

“I’m sorry. I know you’re just trying to help. I just . . . don’t have much of a plan. I’ll wing it, I guess.” I squeezed his hand, trying to convey my sincerity. “Thank you for coming with me.” He didn’t speak, but covered my hand with his own for a brief moment before pulling away.

We reached the countryside without incident. The houses and farms were few and far between. Green fields—potatoes, most likely—spread out on either side of the road. “It must be just up here . . .” I said. “There.” I pointed to a building set a couple hundred feet off the road and double-checked the GPS.

“It looks like an old factory or something,” Kenneth said. It was a rectangular building with faded brown siding. Huge exhaust pipes and fans littered the roof. I turned into the driveway and stopped in front of a small white sign that read “Maine Experimental Farm.”

“Well, I guess this is the right place,” Kenneth said. “But it looks vacant.”

I stepped out. The slam of the car door echoed in the air around us. So much for sneaking in.

A set of glass doors barred the entrance. They were locked, so I pressed my face to the glass and peered inside. It looked like your standard office reception room. On a desk in the corner were a small calendar and a bottle of hand sanitizer. A few plastic chairs were lined up against the wall.

I banged on one of the doors with my fist. “Hello? Is anyone here?”

Kenneth gave me a bemused look, then walked around to the other side of the building. The area around it was rocky and overgrown with weeds, and I had to watch my footing as I walked along the exterior and stretched up onto my tiptoes to peer in the windows.

Then there was a soft click behind me.

“And just what do you think you’re doing?” a man’s voice growled.

I jumped and turned, my hands halfway up in the air. A security guard in a navy blue rent-a-cop uniform was standing three yards away from me. He was pointing a gun at my face.

“I’m just . . . looking . . . for someone,” I stammered.

“No one’s supposed to be here,” he said, jabbing his gun in my direction.

“Please put that down,” I said, my voice a little more steady. “I’m just looking for my brother.”

A strange, vacant look passed over the man’s face. “I had a brother too, once.”

“Please, put the gun down.”

He looked as if he was about to comply, but just then Kenneth came running around the corner. “Clare? I thought I heard—” He stopped short. “What’s going on? Who are you?”

“I’m the one in charge of this place,” the man growled, his whole body rigid, the gun still directed at me.

Kenneth moved slowly toward me. “Listen, please put the gun down. We were just looking around. We’ll be on our way.”

“I have a higher calling!” the man yelled, and Kenneth stopped in his tracks, his eyes narrowed. He and I exchanged glances.

“Gaspereau,” Kenneth whispered, and I nodded.

“What’s that you’re saying about me?” the security guard asked.

“I’m a doctor,” Kenneth said loudly and slowly. “You’re sick. We have to get you to the hospital.”

The man started to shake. “I know what happens at the hospital. I’m not going anywhere!”

“What is this place?” I asked him. “What’s inside there? Is my brother here?”

“No one is here. They all left. No one here but us ghosts.” His eyes darted around the yard. The finger on the trigger was twitching.

Kenneth took a step forward. The man bellowed, “Get away from me!” and swung the gun wildly in his direction. His back was now to me. One false move, and Kenneth would be dead. My heart pounded in my ears.

Kenneth put his hands in the air. “No one is going to hurt you.”

“I’ll shoot you! I will!” As if to prove his point, the man pointed his gun at the sky and fired off a shot.

I grabbed one of the large rocks at my feet and ran at the guard while he still had the gun pointed away from Kenneth. I smashed the rock into the back of his head with as much force as I could muster.

It was enough. He fell heavily to the ground, and the gun scattered across the dirt.

Kenneth rushed toward the guard.

“Stop!” I shouted. “What are you doing? Don’t touch him!”

“You might have killed him!”

“He was going to kill us both! And if you touch him, you’re as good as dead. Just . . . leave him there. We’ll call an ambulance after we leave.”

“After we leave? Clare, there’s no one here. We need to get out of here right now.”

“Not until I’m sure Wes isn’t inside,” I said grimly.

“And how are you going to get in?” Kenneth asked. Rather than answer him, I picked up another large rock from the ground and hurled it at the door. The glass shattered, and a piercing alarm split the air.

“What are you doing?” he yelled. He tried to grab me, but I twisted away and reached into the broken glass door to open it from the inside.

“I want to get their attention!” I yelled over the noise. “If someone is in here, they’ll come out.” I half expected to see Dr. Hansen come bowling around the corner, but no one did. I ran through the lobby and down the hall. “Wes? Are you here?”

I threw open doors, still yelling my brother’s name. The first three rooms were just offices, filled with desks and piles of paper. Then I came to another door that opened to a staircase.

I ran down the stairs, then stopped because it was pitch-black. I gave my phone a firm shake to toggle on the flashlight and shone it around at the walls, stopping when I found a bank of switches. I hit a few of them, and the space flooded with light.

Stretched out in front of me was a long corridor, with shiny cream walls and fluorescent lights. The alarm was still going off, but the sound was muted down here. I pushed open the first door on my left. Stainless-steel tables and large machines I didn’t recognize lined the walls. A row of empty test tubes stood on one of the counters against the wall.