Start of "Fergus" Rewrite

The walls were not white there, as you’d expect. They were more of a stale yellow, like a bathtub that had hosted too many golden showers.

It was my first night. It was snack time. I was at a table in the eating room, munching on an apple, still numb from the shot I’d been given earlier. My muscles were all loose like boring penises. I didn’t even care where I was. I was just a girl in a hospital gown, enjoying the way an apple’s skin was breaking beneath her teeth.

Of course I had these images in my head of Master stomping through the warehouse, opening every closet and coffin. Dropping down to his knees to look for me under the bed or under a table. He’d think I was hiding, that’s all. Trying to earn myself a spanking. I wanted to let him know that I was captured. I would never run away.

I could’ve asked the nurses to let me use the phone. But there was a crooked line of patients waiting in front of them to get their apples. I watched three ladies at the front of the line. One had her bathrobe draped around her shoulders like a cape. She was almost regal, tugging a plastic comb through her long, black hair. The woman behind her was older, gray-haired with gigantic glasses covering half her cheeks. She kept tensing her shoulders up like she was really nervous. Then there was a girl who looked about my age. She was dark and bald and she had this smile that popped right off her face. I noticed that one of her eyes had no pupil. It was all white. Just a milky marble under fluorescent lights.

The three women chatted like they were secretaries at a water cooler. Well, secretaries on lots and lots of anti-psychotic meds. Not thrilled to be where they were, but smiling still. And twitching a little. And wearing booties with rubber pieces on the feet, so they wouldn’t slip on the dirty tile floor.

The nurse passed an apple to the black-haired lady and she accepted it proudly, gently, like she was winning a trophy. With her shoulders held high and her chin up, holding the apple like it was fragile. She turned for the tables and I had three empty chairs at mine. I was hoping her and the other two would sit with me. They all seemed safe enough. And I can’t stand eating alone.

But she sat somewhere else. The old lady and the girl with the cool eye sat with her. I decided to finish my apple quickly, then go in the dayroom.

In the dayroom, there was a u-shape of chairs, all the same. Wooden and heavy with blue, vinyl cushions that smelled like mildew. A few patients were sitting in there. Others were pacing around the perimeter of the room. At the center of the chairs was a little TV. It flickered back and forth between static and two shiny looking reporters. I sat down and watched. “Warehouse fire,” one said, “on Chicago’s South Side. We join Dan Marco on the scene.”

“Thank you, Carrie. This 8-alarm fire has been raging since 3 this afternoon…” It took a second for the shock to trickle through my body, washing my muscles numb. My lungs sped up. I dug my fingernails into my palms and bit my lip, but it wasn’t until I tasted blood did I fully realize that it was Master’s place on the screen.

I jumped because, right then a voice behind me said, “There comes a point when you’re eating state apples and watching a broken TV and you tell yourself, never again.” I glanced behind me. It was a young guy with buck teeth and gold eyes. “And then it always happens again.” he went on.

“Oh. You come here a lot?” I answered, without really looking at him. I was too fascinated with watching my home on fire.

“Yup. It’s my 7^th time.” He said, as if he was proud of that, or something and sat down next to me.

“Oh. It’s my first time.” I said and sucked more blood from my lip. I started to picture the whips and dildos in Master’s warehouse melting. Was Master in there? Do chains melt?

“Really? First time here? You look a lot more crazy than that.” The guy said.

“Who are you to tell me that?” I snapped and forgot all about the burning warehouse.

“I’m Fergus, the task force against evil. I keep evil out of Chicago.”

I laughed. “What the hell?”

“Let me ask you something, red-haired girl.”

“I’m Hela.”

“Okay, Hela, let me ask you something. What if you get out of this hospital, and go to a party and this group of people, these well-dressed beautiful people come up to you and they tell you they’ll give you anything you want, if only you let them put their mark on your wrist. Would you do it?” Fergus touched his wrist.

“What kind of question is that? I dunno. They could get me anything I want? I guess I’d do it.”

Fergus’ lips drooped over his big, front teeth. “It’s been nice talking with you, Hela. I don’t think I’ll be talking with you again.” He got up from the chair.

“What? It’s just a little mark on your wrist. What’s wrong with that? I bet you’d do it.”

“I did.” Fergus thrust his wrist in my face and I saw the rosy, cross shaped-scar. He sat back down. “Hey, you look so familiar. Did you used to hang out by Clark and Belmont?”

“Yeah, sometimes.” I thought back to when I was homeless there and how Master found me and took me to the warehouse. The burning warehouse.

“I was involved with some bad people down there.” Fergus continued. “You remind me of them. You have those kind of shadows in your eyes.”

I wondered what kind of shadows he meant. I wondered where Master was. Did he get out of the fire on time? Did he start it?

“You know that restaurant, Clarke’s?” Fergus asked.

“Yeah…”

“I broke a cop’s ankle there.”

“What? Why? And how?” I smiled. Maybe this guy was sort of cool, after all.

Behind him, an old woman limped out of her bedroom. She had her gown undone in back. I was surprised at how firm her old, brown butt cheeks were. Not a dimple of cellulite or a stray hair.

Fergus heard the stick-stick of her bare feet on the tile floor and turned around to watch her. I got the impression that this woman served as the hospital entertainment.

“I run outa pannies. I need some pannies! Size 9 Hanes. Some pannies.” The woman barked at a tall, blonde nurse, who I’d heard the other patients call Nurse Bigfoot. She was busy pouring Valporic Acid into little plastic cups. It must have been almost medication time.

“Carol, get back in your room and I’ll bring you some panties.” Bigfoot said. Across the dayroom, the three women I had seen in the apple line were cackling loudly.

“I need some pannies. Some pannies. Size 9 Hanes.” Carol said again and hobbled back into her bedroom. Fergus returned his spacey gold eyes to me.

“So tell me about the cop.” I asked him.

“Well, I was involved with the Satanic ministry.” Fergus touched the slug-like scar on his wrist. “But then I found Christ.”

“Oh.” I said, disappointed.

“I spent two years in Cook County. One at Elgin. It seemed God used to favor me. That the strength of my light could burn away the demons, but now…” he trailed off.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t know if you know this.” He lowered his voice. “The Beast is growing under Belmont.”

“The beast?”

“And Satan’s staying at the Abbott Hotel. I went over to visit him, once.”

“And?”

“He told me to go to Clarke’s and spread his word. I was going from table to table and preaching. Most people seemed to like what I was saying.”  ¶ 2:50 PM