MJ-12: Inception

4

The sun shone brightly over manicured lawns and white adobe-style houses and buildings, giving the entire campus a sense of resort-like tranquility. Pathways laid out in concrete and tarmac crisscrossed the grounds. People in white coats and smocks were everywhere, giving the uniformed military officers genial smiles — and wide berths.

“Nice place, this,” said the Marine captain with ANDERSON on his name badge. “Get a couple girls, some drinks… could be a swell place to spend a few weeks.” He walked with the precision of a disciplined military man across the grounds, his eyes scanning for danger the entire time and his prodigious muscles unconsciously flexing.

Next to him, Lieutenant Commander Danny Wallace smirked and shook his head. “Trust me, Andy, you don’t want to be here if you don’t have to.” Danny knew Anderson from their time together in the Pacific, and had pestered Hillenkoetter — still his superior despite the captain’s new command — for some help. If all went well, Danny had plans for Anderson. If only the latter man could start getting a little more comfortable with… unusual situations.

A moment later, they watched as several white-coated attendants, all of them big, hulking men, rushed inside one of the low-slung buildings, where screaming could be heard. Not long after, they dragged a man out — one attendant per kicking, thrashing limb — and set him down just outside the building’s entrance, where they struggled to get him into a straitjacket. Someone forgot to secure the man’s head, though, and with an unexpected twist, the patient managed to sink his teeth into the forearm closest to him, prompting a cry of anger — and a meaty right hook to the screaming man’s face.

It was much easier to get him into the straitjacket after that.

“Gentlemen, I’m sorry you had to witness that,” came a voice from behind the two officers. They turned to find a bespectacled, bearded man, burly and bow-tied, smiling the weary smile of an overworked doctor. “Agnews State Hospital practices a positive approach to therapy whenever possible, but of course sometimes the health and safety of the hospital’s other patients, as well as our staff, must take priority, and we have a handful of patients who simply don’t respond well to anything we do.”

Danny nodded grimly and extended his hand, which the other fellow took and shook with seeming gratitude. “I’m Lieutenant Commander Dan Wallace. This is Captain Andrew Anderson. I don’t know if my message was passed along, but I called yesterday inquiring after one of your patients here.”

“Of course, Commander. I’m Dr. Stanley Abrams, director here at the hospital. I’m so glad you came. We would of course be glad to assist the military in any way we can. If you’ll follow me?”

Danny and Anderson followed Abrams through the hospital campus as he gave them what felt to Danny like a typical VIP visitor speech. The mental hospital — insane asylum was, apparently, no longer a term in use — was the finest serving the San Francisco and San Jose areas. They used traditional “talk therapy,” as Abrams put it, but were also experiencing a lot of promising success with hydrotherapy and, more recently, modern “electro-shock” treatment.

If someone strapped me down and shocked me, I’d tell them anything they’d want to hear to make it stop, Danny thought. No matter how crazy I am.

“Excuse me, Doc, but maybe we can get on to the part about why we’re here?” Anderson eventually interrupted.

The doctor smiled obsequiously. “Of course, Captain. Let me just check my folder here.” Abrams shuffled through the papers he carried as they walked, and finally pulled out the right one. “Ah, here we are! Margaret Ann Dubinsky, age twenty-seven, hailing from the Chicago area. Moved here when she was eighteen, before the war. Became an elementary school teacher.”

“You have a lot of elementary school teachers here?” Danny asked.

“No, no, it’s actually quite unusual,” Abrams said. “Saddest thing, actually. She was teaching up in Mill Valley, receiving very high marks, I’m told. There was an incident during a meeting with the parents of one of her students. She had asked for the meeting to discuss the possibility that the child’s low marks might have been due to a learning disability.”

“A what?” Anderson interjected.

Abrams shot the Marine a look. “A mental issue that keeps someone from understanding the information presented to them in an academic setting, Captain. A minor mental issue, but one we’re now recognizing among students who might have simply been considered ‘slow.’ At any rate, she explained the matter to the parents, who were reportedly dismissive of the whole matter. They believed their boy was simply being lazy. Miss Dubinsky disagreed strenuously, and the meeting became confrontational. Then the father suddenly became violent. He attacked Miss Dubinsky as well as his child and stormed out of the meeting. From there, he acquired a knife from the cafeteria and took several school employees hostage in the main offices. He killed a janitor and a secretary before the police shot him dead.”

“Jesus Christ…” Anderson muttered. “Was she seriously hurt?”

“She was knocked out before the father got the knife,” Abrams replied. “A slight stroke of good luck, if you care to look at it that way. But Miss Dubinsky isn’t a patient at Agnews because of any physical condition, as I’m sure you’re aware. Following the attack, she became withdrawn and introverted. She apparently blames herself for the incident and began experiencing severe depression. Her condition deteriorated to the point where she eventually quit her job. I’m told she’d been living for two months on the streets of San Francisco, avoiding contact with all friends and family. The police picked her up on a loitering charge and soon determined that she would be best served if they brought her here.”

“So, she went crazy after the shooting,” Anderson said, shaking his head. “Understandable.”

Abrams wheeled on Anderson, literally getting in front of him as he walked so that they both came to a halt. “Captain, please understand. We practice serious medicine at Agnews and do not use that terminology here,” he said with what could be best described as polite urgency. “Nor do we use ‘insane’ or ‘nuts’ or anything else like that. We strive to maintain a positive environment. These people are patients, and they are being treated for an illness. I cannot have you using that kind of language around Miss Dubinsky or any other patient!”

Danny moved between the two men and held his hands up in mock surrender. “Our apologies, Doctor. We understand. I’m sure all the captain meant is that it would’ve been tough for anybody to go through that.”

Abrams nodded curtly before turning and resuming his way at a quick pace, leaving the two officers rushing to keep up. “Most days, the patient is nearly catatonic. She bathes and dresses, she eats, she sleeps. The rest of the time, she seems to be just staring off into space. She’ll answer our questions, depending on the day, but won’t really engage in conversation beyond a few words. She avoids any gatherings of the patients, even though interaction with the other residents here at Agnews is something we actively encourage for anyone staying with us.”

Danny thought about this a moment. “I bet it doesn’t go well when she attends, does it.”

Abrams shot him a look before answering. “This is a mental hospital, Commander, and yes, there are risks of incidents when even the most docile patients are placed together. For example, the man you saw just now has progressed significantly since he first arrived. But just like us, our patients have bad days now and then. Their bad days are simply far more pronounced.”

“Have you seen progress in Miss Dubinsky?” Danny asked.

“Progress is measured differently with each patient, Commander,” Abrams began. “It’s simply unreasonable to expect just because one of our patients shows—”

“She’s been here twelve weeks and there hasn’t been a single indication that her condition is improving, has there, Doctor?” Danny pressed.

Abrams sighed. “We’ve tried many different therapies to bring her out of her fugue, from hydro to electric-shock to experimental drug treatments. I admit, we haven’t had much success,” Abrams said as he came to a stop before a secure wooden door in one of the smaller buildings. “These are the residences. Each patient has a small room of his or her own. Maggie isn’t a danger to herself, so it will look familiar to you. Shall we?”

Danny nodded, and Abrams rapped on the door. “Maggie! It’s Dr. Abrams. You have some guests here to see you. May we come in?”

There was no response, and Abrams produced the keys to the room. “It’s unlikely we would have received a reply. Let’s go in.”

A few jingling keys and several deadbolts later, the three men entered the sunny room. And to Danny’s surprise, Abrams was right — it looked more like a hotel room than an asylum or mental hospital or whatever they were calling it these days. There were a nicely made bed and pillow, along with matching dresser, desk, and chair. There were a small closet and a little bathroom, and the décor was California cheery, with lots of peach and mauve colors. A floral throw rug covered most of the tiled floor.

The woman inside, though, was far less welcoming.

Margaret Ann Dubinsky, in Danny’s estimation, was on the plain side of pretty, with a broad, sort of flat face and blue eyes. That was probably unfair, though, given what she’d been through. She kept her blond hair straight and parted right down the middle, with very little effort put into it. No makeup, either, and whereas she might’ve qualified for “curvy” once, she was looking kind of wan and pale. Her cheeks were a little hollow, her eyes a little unfocused and tired. Her clothes were standard-issue white pajamas, though the closet seemed to be stocked with other, more colorful and ladylike options. She was sitting cross-legged on the bed, no shoes.

She didn’t acknowledge her visitors whatsoever, just continued staring off into space while the radio at her bedside played some ballad or another.

“Creepy as hell,” Anderson muttered, earning a whack on the arm from Danny and a glare from Abrams, who entered the room slowly and made his way to the girl’s bedside.

“Maggie, these gentlemen came from the naval base up in Alameda to see you,” Abrams said slowly and clearly. “Can you say hello to them?”

Maggie’s head turned slowly in their direction, acknowledging their presence for the first time. Danny’s eyes met hers, and he was shocked to find just how detached her gaze was. It was as though the girl saw right into his goddamn soul and found nothing there to remark upon.

“You can go ahead and ask questions if you like,” Abrams said after a moment of silence. “Perhaps the new stimulus will be useful to her.”

Danny and Anderson exchanged glances. Given that Danny outranked the Marine, and it was his idea to come out there in the first place, there was no question who would be providing the stimulus. Anderson extended his hand in the patient’s direction, as if to say, “She’s all yours, Commander,” and retreated to the other side of the small room with Abrams. Danny took a quick breath and pulled up a chair next to the bed.

“Hello, Miss Dubinsky,” he began, speaking quietly and leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “My name’s Dan Wallace. I’m with the Navy. Your case came to our attention through, uh, various channels we… keep a watch on.”

Danny paused. Maggie simply continued staring forward, unmoving. Her breathing was so measured, she could’ve used it as a metronome. Danny had never really tried to talk to someone this unresponsive before.

“So, Miss Dubinsky,” he continued, “I’d like to talk to you about what happened up in Mill Valley. You know, with that student’s father. It seemed really… out of character. Can you perhaps tell me a bit about what happened?”

Still nothing. The woman’s face was utterly blank, her eyes lacking any spark at all. There were photographs with more life in them than this woman, Danny thought as he leaned in closer to her. Time for plan B.

“I have a theory about what happened. I’d like to tell you about it,” Danny whispered. “You see, people don’t just up and go mad like that. OK, sure, a few do. But I read that father’s file. He was a stand-up guy, real pillar of the community: banker, Methodist, Mason. They say he was a rock. Never so much as spanked the kids.”

Maggie blinked a few times. Her breathing hitched momentarily.

Danny couldn’t help but smile slightly, feeling as though he was getting somewhere, and an idea began to form in his head. “So, what makes a man angry as all that? Sure, nobody likes it when a teacher tells them they’re all wrong as parents, but I don’t think you did that. And I took a look at the paperwork you prepared for little Johnny there, about how he might’ve needed extra help because of… what’s that word? Dyslexia? Some sort of reading thing. Never heard of it, but figure you’re up on that sort of thing.”

Danny heard Abrams clear his throat a bit. “I’m not sure, Lieutenant Wallace, how this is supposed to help Maggie,” the doctor said, somehow sounding both apologetic and defensive in the same friendly-sounding breath.

“Not sure she needs help, Dr. Abrams. Do you, Maggie?” Danny replied, not taking his eyes off her as she began to shift slightly on the bed. “Your student there, Johnny, he just couldn’t read very well. You knew he wasn’t being lazy or anything — the boy couldn’t help it. But maybe the parents didn’t see it that way. Maybe they just ignored you, or maybe they thought you were trying to tell them their boy was sick, somehow, or crazy. Either way, they weren’t going to do anything. So, what happened then? What made that father go off like that?”

A single tear trailed down Maggie’s face. Her hands clenched. Her breathing grew quicker. And she screwed her eyes shut tight.

“I don’t know what happened, and you do, Maggie,” Danny said. “You can’t hide here forever. If you can tell me what happened, maybe I can help you. Maybe together we can… oh… oh, God.”

Danny stopped and clutched at his chest. His muscles suddenly felt like they were constricting, pulling taut, and there was a brief moment when he thought he was having a heart attack. His heart raced and his head swam and panic began to take hold. But there was something more, too — an emptiness inside him, blossoming from deep inside him, as if anything meaningful in his life was somehow wrenched away. Everything around him struck him as immensely sad, from the vase of flowers on the table that would wither and die in days, to his own once-strong hands now trembling before him like leaves. And this woman, Maggie, was the saddest thing of all, her eyes now full of tears that broke his heart over and over again with each drop.

Eyes that were now intensely focused on Danny. And not just full of life again… full of sadness. Longing. Fear.

There was a gasping sob behind him, and Danny turned to see Anderson doubled over, his arms wrapped around himself defensively, weeping. Next to him, Dr. Abrams had one hand on the wall, another over his eyes, and his cheeks were wet with tears as well.

Danny slowly turned back to Maggie. “This is what you wanted,” she said quietly, tears running down her cheeks. “This is what happened. Is that what you came to see?”

Danny choked off a sob. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry. Yes, this is exactly what I came to see,” he cried. “This is exactly what I wondered if you… you could do. You’re doing this. And, oh God, this is how you feel about what happened, isn’t it?”

Maggie’s gaze was cold, even as more tears escaped her eyes. “This is exactly how I feel. Each and every goddamn day. Morning, noon, and night. That boy, that father, those other people — they’re dead because of me.”

Danny tried to stand but could only stagger backward. He knew, somewhere inside himself, that what he was feeling wasn’t real. It was… manufactured. And with that came the sense of being separated from his body — that there was the real Danny, now more aware of his surroundings, and then there was the force that was puppeting him around, making him feel so incredibly, hopelessly bereft. He tried to focus past the sadness but simply wasn’t strong enough yet to wrest control back from his own emotions. His chair got away from him and he fell on his ass onto the tiled floor. “Maggie, oh, Maggie… I’m sorry. So very, very sorry,” he said through clenched teeth. “But I have to ask you now… please, I beg you, can you… can you rein this in? Can you please stop this?”

She looked at him and slowly shook her head, quickly wiping a tear from her face. “You think I can turn this on and off like a light switch? You think I enjoy what’s happening right now?”

Danny got onto his knees and put his arms on the bed next to her, as if he were praying for some kind of divine intervention. His mind flashed from thoughts of his mother, his father, and the horror of war and everything that ever made him miserable to the promise that this intensely sad woman had within her. “Maggie, what if we can find out a way to help you? What if… what if we can teach you to control it?” he sobbed.

And then, suddenly, the vise on Danny’s heart loosened. It didn’t go away, but it definitely stopped squeezing so goddamn hard. He still felt sad, foreboding, lonely… but there was something else there. Just a thin sliver of hope, enough to begin staving off the darkness a little bit.

Maggie looked at him intently. “How do you plan to do that, sailor boy?” she asked, menace in her voice. “You didn’t even know for sure until now what I could do. How are you gonna pull that off?”

Danny straightened up as best he could from his kneeling position before her, his self-control coming back in tiny bits and pieces that he desperately tried to reassemble. “I… I don’t know. But I can at least give you some hope. I… I think I just did. Maybe that’s something right there.”

Maggie stared hard, but something in her eyes relented just a tiny bit, and Danny felt like he could finally take a breath without holding back a sob. But she wasn’t done with him. “I know what I can do. This goddamn curse I have, I know what it can do to people. People died because of me. And you… you’re from the Navy. And the Marine over there. What do you even know about any of this?”

Danny felt a new stirring inside him… anger. He could see where arguing with her could escalate quickly. Even as his sadness waned and his temper rose, he clamped down on everything and focused on his answer. “Right now, Maggie, I can’t tell you. I don’t know exactly what it is, because I don’t know the extent of it yet. But right now, we’re the only ones who believe you. The only ones who even have a chance of helping you. Please. Come with us.”

Maggie regarded him for several long seconds, during which Danny’s mind cycled through every emotion in the book. Anger… fear… and hope. How much of that was hers and how much was genuinely his, he couldn’t say.

“Fine,” she said finally. “Let’s go.”