View Single Post
Old 05-02-2017, 10:19 AM   #139
Icelander's Avatar
Join Date: Mar 2006
Location: Iceland*
Default Nobody Remembers Nuthin'

The guard, Patrick Whittaker, nods goodbyes and jogs for the stairs, eager to get to grips with the fire in C Wing. With a sigh, Dr. Michael Anderson turns away from Chase Taylor and Cherry Bell as they leave the main building of Manhanock Asylum. Ms. Bell is almost certainly not in a fit mental state for any kind of challenging activity and Dr. Anderson considers ordering her to come back with him instead, but given that Chase Taylor seems to be a wreck both physically and mentally, it would probably be even worse to let him go alone.

Well, the boy is in love with her, or experiencing a very convincing facsimile thereof, and being adored seems to be important to her. They could be good for each other. Even as he tries to convince himself, Anderson is pretty sure that leaving them alone together is a bad idea, but he can’t really see an alternative. Taylor just committed murder for Bell, so at the very least, they’ll need to synch up their stories. And they are the only two people who have any chance of being able to fetch the refugees from the tunnels under the asylum and after what Dr. Anderson has seen there, that’s not a place anyone should be left in.

Anderson runs a hand through his wavy curls, clearing them away from his face, as he finally goes to check the room where Taylor said the Deputy Warden, Brad Tyrrell, would be found. As he walks down the corridor, Dr. Anderson hopes that Taylor was right about the extent of injuries that Warden Tyrrell had suffered, as Anderson has no desire to encounter the man responsible for several hectic hours of terrifying violence if he is at all capable of posing further threat to anyone. Dr. Anderson is wearing tactical gear and carrying a loaded pistol, but he has no illusions about his ability to shoot his fellow men. Better by far if Warden Tyrrell is already incapacitated.

Stepping through a door into a small room or a side corridor, Dr. Anderson immediately recognises an outhouse smell. He can spot two men, one of them lying on the ground, the other awkwardly propped up by the wall, fumbling at a radio on the shoulder of his tactical gear. The man trying to use the radio is African-American and he seems either concussed or very confused.

Dr. Anderson: “I am Dr. Anderson. May I help you?”
Rankin: “Uh… what’s happening? What am I doing here?”
Dr. Anderson: “There has been an incident. The DHS has direct administration of the island for the duration of the emergency.”
Rankin: “You’ve got to help Brad... uh, Warden Tyrrell.”
Anderson: “He is, of course, not my patient, but I will check his vitals, as long as it is understood that I do not thereby assume any liability in treating him. Emergency medicine is not my field and I note for the record that the equipment and conditions are grossly inadequate for any medical treatment.”

Dr. Anderson moves to the second man, lying prone on the floor in a pool of blood around his head. There is a strong odour of urine and faeces emanating from the prone man, which Dr. Anderson guesses results from the voiding of the bowels concurrent with unconsciousness from head trauma. There is significant deformation of the skull, which is broken in at least two places.

Dr. Anderson examines the man carefully, well enough to confirm identification as Deputy Warden Tyrrell and to determine that there is no pulse. This is a source of some relief to Dr. Anderson, as he’d been dreading Tyrrell recovering somehow and attacking everyone around him like a blood-crazed fighting dog coming to after a lost bout. Privately, Dr. Anderson is fairly confident that Tyrrell died of intracranial haemorrhaging caused by repeated blunt force trauma to the head, but he is careful not to make any unnecessary pronouncements.

Anderson: “There is nothing I can do for him. Is there anything I can help you with, Mr….?”
Rankin: “Uh, I’m Inspector Kevin Rankin. What do you mean incident? What happened to Brad? Why are we wearing tactical gear?”
Anderson: “It is probably best if you come with me upstairs and speak with Agent O’Toole or Mr. Townsend.”

Leading a mystified and subdued Inspector Rankin, Dr. Anderson climbs the stairs, passing a cuffed and bruised guard on the second floor. When Rankin wants to stop and free the guard, Dr. Anderson instructs him to continue with him up the next flight of stairs, to the third floor, where they run into Agent O’Toole.

O’Toole: “Thank [fornication]! You’re here, doc. You gonna take a look at that [fornicating] freaky guy over here?”
Anderson: “Chief Administrator Findlay?”
O’Toole: “[Excrement], if he isn’t [fornicating] Findlay, he’s got wicked brass sitting in his fancy [fornicating] chair in his goddamned office.”
Anderson: “To be sure. If you and Mr. Townsend could perhaps take care of Inspector Rankin in the meantime? It seems Mr. Rankin is having some trouble remembering recent events. Fill him in, will you?”
O’Toole: “Well, [excrement], that’s one thing this madhouse’s got in common with Southie. When the cops start clearing up after a to-do, nobody remembers nuthin’!”
Anderson: “You should use your best judgment whether any of them can be trusted, Agent O’Toole, but medically, I consider it quite possible that they are telling the truth. From what I can tell, Dr. Cotton has been drugging people and hypnotizing them while they were in a suggestible state.”
O’Toole: “What, like [fornicating] Jedi Mind Tricks?”
Anderson: “In some cases, no doubt. Let us hope Inspector Rankin was not abused in that fashion.”

After showing Agent O’Toole the radio channel that Taylor set aside for their use, Dr. Anderson walks to the luxurious corner office where the Chief Administrator of Manhanock Asylum for the Criminally Insane works. Knocking politely, Dr. Anderson lets himself in when there is no reply. Inside the room, a slightly overweight, suit-clad man sits staring blankly out a window. Anderson asks if he is Dr. Vernon Findlay.

Not receiving any answer, Dr. Anderson examines the man carefully. He concludes that the blank-faced man is in a trance with strong similarities to a drug-induced hypnotic state. Dr. Anderson starts to speak in a soothing, rhythmic tone of voice, aiming to emulate the original hypnotist.

Anderson: “You will tell me your name.”
Dr. Findlay [flat voice]: “Vernon Findlay.”
Anderson: “Good. Has anything out of the ordinary occurred today, Dr. Findlay?”
Findlay [reciting mechanically]: “Nothing out of the ordinary has occurred. Manhanock Asylum endeavours to provide a secure and welcoming home for patients. Our commitment to safety is matched by our commitment to the physical and mental welfare of our charges."
Anderson: “Naturally. What is the last thing you remember, Dr. Findlay?”
Findlay: “Making my rounds.”
Anderson: “Who were the doctors who had the evening shift?”
Findlay: “I don’t remember.”
Anderson: “Were you aware of Dr. Cotton’s experiments with hypnotism?”
Findlay: “…”
Anderson: “Do you remember Dr. Bruce Cotton?”
Findlay: “No.”
Anderson: “Sigh. Dr. Cotton is a psychiatrist here at Manhanock Asylum. You will tell me what his duties and responsibilities are.”
Findlay: “No doctor by that name has ever worked here.”
Anderson: “Please recite for me the names and specialities of all doctors at Manhanock Asylum for the Criminally Insane.”

With a mechanical voice, Dr. Findlay recites the name and specialities of nine doctors, including himself as Chief of Medicine, McKinney as Chief of Physical Medicine and Emma King as an applicant for a psychiatric residency, but makes no mention of the Chief of Psychiatric Medicine, Dr. Cotton.

Anderson: “Do you recollect a patient by the name of Sherilyn Bell?”
Findlay: “Yes.”
Anderson: “Who is her primary physician?”
Findlay: “Dr. Emma King.”
Anderson: “Dr. King is a clinical psychologist who just finished medical school. She cannot be a primary physician yet. Who was Ms. Bell’s former primary physician?”
Findlay: “Dr. Frank Henderson.”
Anderson: “Very good. And when Dr. Henderson retired in 2012, did you hire someone to replace him as Chief of Psychiatric Medicine?”
Findlay: “…Yes.”
Anderson: “Who?”
Findlay: “I can’t remember.”
Anderson: “Did a Dr. Bruce Cotton apply for the job?”
Findlay: “Yes.”
Anderson: “Did you hire Dr. Cotton?”
Findlay: “I can’t remember.”
Anderson: “When you make your rounds, do you personally check on Ms. Bell’s.”
Findlay: “No.”
Anderson: “Who does?”
Findlay: “Her primary.”
Anderson: “Dr. Henderson is no longer her primary. Dr. King is not a psychiatrist here yet. You will tell me who checks on Ms. Bell when the rounds are made.”
Findlay: “The man. I don’t remember his name or his face.”
Anderson: “Try to remember. Is his name Dr. Cotton?”
Findlay: “Yes, Dr. Bruce Cotton.”

Exhausted and bored with dragging answers from the Chief Administrator, Dr. Anderson leans back to take a quick break. It’s obvious that Dr. Findlay has blocked out all memories having to do with Dr. Cotton, probably due to hypnotic suggestion, but as he has just demonstrated, it is possible to access those memories. Unfortunately, there’s probably no way to do so without leading the subject so much so that his testimony would never be admissible as any kind of evidence.

Frowning, Dr. Anderson takes a look at his watch. Taylor and Bell have been gone for quite a while and they were going to contact him once they had gotten the people out, so he could treat any of them who needed it. Anderson takes out the radio and calls on the channel set aside for their use.

Dr. Anderson: “Taylor, come in, Taylor.”
Taylor: "Hey, doc."
Anderson: "Did you get them out?"
Taylor: "Yeah, sure. Don't worry none 'bout them."
Anderson: "Where are you?"
Taylor: "I'ma right where I'm supposed to be."
Anderson: "Are you okay? You sound a little strange."
Taylor: "I'm jes' fine, doc."
Za uspiekh nashevo beznadiozhnovo diela!

Last edited by Icelander; 12-06-2017 at 10:57 AM.
Icelander is offline   Reply With Quote