The Waiting Room

He was across from the door painted into the wall. The fake door in the waiting room. Dr. Krone’s study was wide open, but it was missing the man himself. The fish tank’s aeration device hummed, the cichlids oblivious to the things happening around them. He kicked open the receptionist’s door. Inside, there was simply a chair, a small refrigerator, and a pile of Cosmopolitan, Elle, and People magazines. The room stated the obvious—this wasn’t a psychiatrist’s office. How many people had slept on that plastic-covered couch unknowing of what demise was in store for them?

Craig kicked the coffee table over. “How long has this been going on? I know Dr. Krone and his dad kidnapped victims from the asylum, but what about random people on the streets? I relived it on the machine. He kidnapped me from my apartment. I was so confused, I played into his scenario.”

“It’s not your fault. We’re victims, and they’re the criminals. Anybody could wind up here. This was definitely well planned.”

“That it was!”

Gun smoke clouded the room. The pound of the bullet was deafening, and Craig swore he thought his heart stopped a full three seconds before ticking again. Edith was shot in the chest. She landed on the floor, losing her stance, and she cupped the blood that spilled from her chest wound. It glowed a violent neon, the bleeding red hole a bubbling geyser.

Rachael clutched on to a smoking Desert Eagle pistol. She wielded it like a practiced gunner. “Stay where you are, Mr. Horsy.”

He kneeled down to Edith and cradled her in his arms. She gurgled on blood. Her lungs were filling up. Draining whiter and whiter, the life in her flesh was seeping out the bullet hole. Desperate eyes froze on him. Fix it, they begged, make the bleeding stop.

She edged him close to her lips, holding him by the collar. The whisper was barely audible, like a tickle to the skin. “Find Alice and make it up to her…whatever it is you did wrong…make it up to her.”

Her eyes rolled into the back of her head. One final breath expelled, her body sagged into itself, and she was dead. Dead for real. Dead for good.

Rachael took over the situation, motioning with the pistol. “Stand up and step away from the body. The bitch doesn’t matter now.” Her eyes narrowed on the corpse. “We can still use her brain.”

He stiffened at the image of Edith’s head being opened and her brain removed by Dr. Krone. “Why do you need her brain?”

She raised the gun to the level of his head. “You have no use for that information.” A crooked smile wormed across her lips. Whatever she was thinking, it involved him. “It won’t be long before this place is bustling with activity. You’re a danger to us, Craig, and I’m glad I caught you in time. Our imaginations run wild, and yours will too. The doctor will be pleased I caught you in time. He wanted you alive.”

“And why not Edith?—she’s a good person, and you fucking shot her.”

“She’s pitiful,” Rachael said with disappointment drawn across her face. “Edith’s another sob story. Too many children, not enough money, too much drugs and alcohol, who gives a shit? Her memories aren’t entertaining, but Dr. Krone did appreciate the time in her life where she gave blowjobs for twenty bucks. She was nineteen at the time. He saved that memory.” She shook her head, though she enjoyed the thought. “Pervert.”

“Saved that memory, what do you mean?”

“You don’t know shit, and it’ll stay that way.” She was irritated. He’d disturbed their plans for tonight—whatever their “imaginations running wild meant”. “I’m hooking you back up to the machine.”

“Where’s Dr. Krone?”

“He’s resting.” She muttered it an annoyance. “Fat ass wears out after so many hours on the machine. He’s asleep. He can’t wake up, he’s that zonked out. The machine overheats. That’s why the power shorted. Now, the device is recharging, and once it’s recharged, the party begins.” Her eyes were wide. “All the work pays off. It only happens once a week. We’ve collected so many memories. Only the best ones we keep.”

Craig’s skull ached. He was exhausted. The machine tasked the body and the mind and left both depleted. But he didn’t have the luxury of sleep or relief. Blood stained his hands, and Edith was a corpse at his feet. That’d be three children without a mother.

“Now come with me,” she instructed, keeping one hand extended with the gun. Rachael fished out a filled syringe from her white smock with her free hand. “It’s easy. I poke you with this, and that’s all you have to do.”

“You’re not a real nurse, you bitch.” His blood pressure boiled. His skin flushed red. Rachael was startled by the looks he cast her. “You want to steal my memories, huh? It’s great Dr. Krone finds my mind worthwhile to excavate. Then what?—he’ll steal my brain and leave me for dead? Why do you want our brains? Are you afraid to tell me?”

“It’s dangerous for you to know too much.” Fear weighed her words. “You have no idea what risks we’re taking with you up and walking around. Stop asking questions. You can’t possibly comprehend our work, so stop trying.”

“You won’t shoot me.” It burst out of him an explosion of words. “I have something to live for and you won’t take that away from me!”

She was shaken by the outburst and backed up three steps, her confidence vanishing. She dropped the gun and waved her hands in defeat, begging him, “No—don’t, Craig. I’m sorry. Put it down, okay? I’ll let you go—listen to me!”

He was confused until his anger subsided enough to notice that he was clutching his father’s Browning shotgun.

There was no decision-making process.

He pulled the trigger.

Rachael’s feet lifted from the floor, thrown like a weightless doll into the wall behind her. Her torso was rendered into upturned clothing and flesh. Through the lifting haze of smoke, she coughed and belched.

She peered up at him, her eyes half slits. Blood streamed down both sides of her lips. “You’ll never escape. You’re a fool.” She sneered hard. “Soon you’ll be dead…but it’ll be much worse than death…”

He was frightened at the amount of blood that spilled from her torso. She lived only ten more seconds, then she was dead, as limp as Edith’s corpse. He stood in a room with two dead corpses. And before he realized it, the Browning had vanished.