by Doug Devor
She should have been hurrying, but she couldn’t bring herself to do so. Instead, she walked even slower than her normal pace. Her left shoe squeaked with each step. Perhaps the reason she was dragging her feet was because she didn’t really want to see him. Her grandfather certainly was not a pleasant man, but he was her grandfather, right? Grandchildren are supposed to visit their grandfathers. That’s a rule. Isn’t it?
Eve walked this route every day. Some days she looked down and counted the steps. Some days she had her face buried in her cell phone. Today she looked up, her eyes searching the streetside stands and kiosks and food vendors. She didn’t want to go to the hospital empty-handed and she knew everything in that hospital gift shop was totally lame.
Mario was pulling down a large bag of Doritos from among the other snacks he sold at his stand. He saw Eve coming up and they exchanged greetings.
“How many calories do you think are in this entire bag of Doritos?” Mario said as he popped the bag of chips and reached in. Eve didn’t answer. She was distracted, looking around. Mario noticed. “What are you looking for, kid?”
“I’m going to see Grandpa Al at the hospital and I want to get him something.”
“Grandpa Al. I haven’t seen that dude in years. Sorta assumed he was dead. Buy him a tie, old dudes like ties, right?”
“I don’t know, Mario. He’s not really into dressing up. He mostly just sits around and yells at things. And complains.”
“Sounds like a real winner.” Mario glanced at Eve between his Doritos handfuls. “No offense.”
“It’s ok. He’s pretty weird.” Eve noticed a sunglasses stand next to Mario’s Munch Hut that she had not seen before. The salesman wore a brown suit and had a neatly trimmed mustache. Mario leaned forward out of his stand to see what Eve was looking at.
“Get him sunglasses, who cares?” Mario said. He leaned back into his stand. The sunglasses salesman seemed to hear the word sunglasses and looked toward Eve.
“50 percent off on Mondays.” He said, brushing off his suit with his hands. Eve walked over to the stand, which was called ‘Sunglasses and More,’ and looked at the displays of sunglasses. She couldn’t really remember if Grandpa Al wore sunglasses. He wasn’t really an outside person. Maybe he wore bifocals. She also seemed to remember he was colorblind. She checked her watch; 3:50. She was supposed to meet her brother at 4:00. She looked at the man with the neatly trimmed mustache.
“Do you have anything else besides sunglasses?”
“No,” the man replied. “Just sunglasses.”
Eve regarded the name of the stand, then looked back at the sunglasses. The man, who seemed preoccupied before, now looked at her more seriously.
“I might have something for you.” He removed a key from around his neck and opened the glass case of sunglasses. Reaching behind the display items, he fished out a plain, old-looking box. “This is something very special.”
“Let me guess,” Eve replied, “Sunglasses.”
“Not exactly.” The man opened the box and removed a pair of red-tinted glasses with large lenses. “These are colorblindness-correction glasses.” He offered them to her. Eve reached out and took the glasses. As she held them, she felt a sensation of warmth, but it dissipated quickly. Eve tried the glasses on.
“Everything is red.”
“Yes, those that can see color, only see red when wearing the glasses. But those who cannot see color…they see much more.” The man’s casual demeanor had changed slightly. He had his salesman voice on. Did Eve sense a bit of desperation in his voice as well? Probably just her imagination. The gift was perfect. Grandpa Al was colorblind, and even if these glasses didn’t work, he would probably be pleased with her effort to try. Probably.
Eve paid for the glasses in cash (the man wouldn’t take her card) and hurried to meet her brother.
The man with the neatly trimmed mustache watched Eve walk away, the expression on his face a mixture of fear and hope. He said only one thing as she disappeared around the corner: “The burden is yours now, Evelyn.”
“Did you say something, bro?” Mario asked.
“No, I didn’t say anything.”
Mario chomped some more Doritos. “Could have sworn you said something really ominous like ‘The burden is yours’ or something.”
“No, No…that must have been…the wind.. ”
“Whatever, guy.” Mario poured the crumbs from the bag into his mouth.
***
Where is she? Thought Cameron, checking his phone. Late, always late. Cameron leaned back in his chair in the hospital waiting room and looked around. A man with a baby. An old woman staring at the ground. A lady with three kids running around. He felt out of place. He picked up his book bag and pulled out his algebra textbook. Just then, Eve hurried into the room. She walked up to Cameron and apologized for being late.
“No problem.” Cameron noticed the plain wooden box in her hand. “What’s that?”
“Something for Grandpa Al.” Eve said as she opened the box.
“You got him a fucking gift?” asked Cameron, staring at the red-tinted glasses. “Are you serious?” Cameron’s face had disdain written all over it. “He doesn’t deserve a gift. Why would you waste your money on this…this…what is it?”
“Colorblindness-correction glasses.”
“That’s not a real thing.”
“Apparently it is, because that’s what I got him.”
“Well, you’re an idiot, because you got swindled. Was the glasses store guy hot? A smooth talker?”
“Fuck off, Cameron. Let’s just go up.”
“Wait. Please tell me again why we have to visit him. It’s not like he’s dying.”
Eve hesitated. It did seem weird that they kept seeing Grandpa Al, especially after their mom refused to do so. Cameron sensed her hesitation and offered, “We could just bail and get a pizza. He doesn’t even know we’re coming.”
Eve considered for a split second then shook her head. “He’s still family.” They made their way to the elevator.
***
In the post-surgery wing of the third floor, an old man was lying on a hospital bed, propped up by pillows. His arms were thin; skin loose and sagging. He wore only a hospital gown. Al’s new hip ached. He went over the accident again and again in his mind. It was bound to happen. Over the past few years his legs had been less and less willing to carry him, thin as he may have been.
He had tried to refuse the pain medicine. After all, he had experienced worse pain in the war. Da Nang. Dak To. Kham Duk. But the little doctor had insisted and so he laid waiting. He hated little people. Always creeped him out. He hated most things, actually. He sometimes wished he was ten years older so he could die sooner. Two quick knocks on the door to his room and then it opened. The little doctor.
“Hello again Mr. Whitmer. I’m Dr. Armand. How are you feeling?”
“Like I’m old and my bones are turning to chalk dust.”
“Excellent news. Your surgery went very well, there are no complications. If everything goes well, you will be home in just two or three weeks.”
“The only home I ever knew burned down when I was sixteen. That’s when I enlisted.”
“Very good, sir. If you need anything from me, please press the red button on your yellow remote.”
Al responded with something clever, but Dr. Armand was already walking out. To Al’s surprise, his grandchildren walked in as the little doctor walked out. Eve and Cameron greeted him. To Al, Cameron looked like a school shooter with his trenchcoat and black fucking lipstick. Eve wore a yellow shirt and carried a small box.
“What are you two doing here? I’m not dying.”
Cameron shot Eve a look but she ignored it.
“We just thought we’d stop by. See how you are doing.” said Eve. She expected a response from him, but got none. She went on. “How did the surgery go?”
“Well I’m fucking alive, aren’t I?” Al regarded the box. “If that’s for me, I don’t want it.” Al said casually as he reached for a carton of orange juice on his tray table
“She fucking got you a gift, and you won’t even take it? What a fucking dick.” said Cameron.
“Watch your mouth, you little greaser punk.”
“If you are going to insult me, please use terminology from this decade.”
They went back and forth for a little while until Eve interrupted. Cameron stormed out. Typical. Al tried to refuse the gift, but he had difficulty saying no to Eve. She was always the sweet one, coming to visit sometimes even when her mother refused. Eve presented the gift, which was sweet, but naive. Color-blindness correction glasses were simply not a thing. Al may have been old and enfeebled, but he wasn’t stupid. In the end, he just accepted the gift – he didn’t have the heart to tell her she got hustled. A fat, male nurse shuffled in wanting to check some charts or something. This one smelled like garlic and pot, but he was still better than Armand.
“Nice glasses,” The nurse said. “What’s with the red? Are those like, night vision? Or for driving at night? My brother had a pair like that, but yellow. He said they helped with the glare? But I was like ‘What glare?’ and anyway, charts look good Mr. Whitmer. I mean, you’re still old, but your blood pressure is good or whatever. But let me be clear – I don’t mean good as in healthy-normal-person good, I mean good as in you-probably-won’t-die-tomorrow good.”
Al leaned over to Eve, who sat beside him. “I like this one. Straight shooter.” Eve sat in disbelief as Al and the nurse, whose name was Shaun, talked about cars and Vietnam. It turned out that Shaun, who was about 30, was something of a military history buff. He collected relics from the war. Eventually, the conversation turned back toward the glasses.
“Try them on, man.” Shaun told Al. “I’ll get a picture.” Shaun took out his phone, Eve stood by Al, and Al put on the glasses. Everything in his vision was red, which wasn’t too much of a surprise because of the red lenses. Eve was initially excited when he told her everything was red, but he explained it was greens and blues that he really had trouble seeing. He was always able to see red. After a few rudimentary tests in which Shaun held up various blue and green objects, it became clear that the glasses didn’t do much of anything.
“Sorry Grandpa Al.” Eve said, hanging her head. Al continued to wear the glasses to make her feel better. He continued to wear them after she left to go to class. He continued to wear them as he watched Cheers on the hospital television. And he continued to wear them as he fell asleep.
***
Al woke up with a start. He had to take a piss. How long had he been asleep? He glanced out the window. Night. He glanced out his doorway. Hospital lights were always on. A female nurse walked by briskly. His wheelchair sat immediately next to his bed. He was supposed to call for help when he needed to piss so they could lower him into the chair. It was close; he could probably make the move himself.
He hoisted himself to a more upright sitting position. His arms were weak and they were barely able to do that. He started to swing his legs off the side of the bed, but didn’t get very far before he felt a sharp pain in his new hip. He lay back down. Fuck. This wasn’t going to work. He should have told them to keep the catheter in. He was on the bed in a sort of diagonal position now, ankles off the bed’s edge. Where was that fucking remote with the call button on it? He felt under himself with his hands and looked around, but couldn’t find it. He felt like he was going to piss himself. Wouldn’t be the first time. Maybe he could just shout down one of the nurses as they walked by. He shouted after the first one he saw, but she must not have heard. He heard a second one coming and yelled for this one but she was talking on a cell phone. He focused on the doorway again, trying to anticipate the next nurse or doctor or fucking janitor.
He saw the thing hobble past his door.
“What the fuck?” He said aloud. He wasn’t exactly sure what he saw. A person? A child maybe. Little, with reddish skin all over. Not wearing a shirt. Or was it a red shirt? Must have been somebody’s kid wearing a red jumpsuit. But alone? In the middle of the night? Al craned his head, but the thing was gone. He thought he was going crazy. Maybe just tired.
He pissed in his bed and fell back to sleep.
In the morning, Nurse Shaun had asked Al why he was still wearing the red glasses. He also asked him why he pissed the bed. Al didn’t realize he still had the glasses on. The small thing that he saw must have been a child. The only reason it was all red was because he was looking at it through red-tinted lenses. It still didn’t explain why the child was walking alone in the middle of the night. It also didn’t explain its unusual, hobbling gait.
Al had graduated to moving around with a wheelchair. Nurse Shaun had been very willing to push him in exchange for stories from ‘Nam. The boy had developed some weird kind of fondness for him. This gave Al the creeps, but he accepted the help, if only because he needed a push to the coffee machine a few times each day. Eve came to visit again; it had been about a week since her last visit. Cameron wasn’t with her. She tried to explain his absence by saying he was busy with work, but Al knew he was just pissed from the last visit. Also, Al was pretty sure the kid dealt drugs for a living. No big loss.
Busy day at the hospital. A ‘code blue’ was announced over the PA and doctors seemed to be running back and forth fairly regularly. Eve sat on the hospital bed, Al sat in the wheelchair looking out the window watching ambulances pull up and unload. Al had known Eve was coming, so he had put on the red-tinted glasses.
“You don’t have to wear them, Grandpa Al. I know they don’t work.”
“I’m getting used to all the red. Also, they make me look younger.”
“No, they don’t,” said Shaun, walking into the room. “You’re old as dirt. I don’t mean that in a bad way. I like people that are super old. They have cool stories to tell.”
“If death and war are cool, you have some strange interests, boy.” Al said.
“You should see my collection of grenades. I have three M-67s and one pineapple.”
“What’s a pineapple?” asked Eve.
“A grenade that looks like a pineapple,” responded Shaun. “Standard issue from World War 2. First truly modern grenade. So effective that the army used them all the way to The Vietnam War. Which I believe we won, by the way. When President Johnson-” He just kept talking. Eve was feigning interest, but Al looked into the hallway. A woman doctor in a white coat quickly wheeled a man past on a gurney. A few nurses hurried by next. Then a janitor pushing a mop bucket. Then a naked red troll with a metal box. Then-
“What the actual fuck?!” Al yelled. Eve jumped to her feet, startled. Shaun, who was still talking about Vietnam politics, leapt back in fear. He tripped on a chair, and fell into Al.
Are you ok?” Eve asked Al as she helped Shaun up.
“Shaun! Take me into the hallway, now!” Al commanded.
“Jesus, dude what’s wrong? You’re all white.”
“NOW!”
Shaun wheeled Al into the hallway, Eve following right behind. Al looked toward where the troll was going, but only saw a young janitor, pushing a mop bucket. Al looked the other way, but saw nothing.
The three of them sat back in Al’s room. Al was still breathing heavily. He had a knot in his throat and another in his stomach. Was he going crazy? Was it the medicine? He was only taking a painkiller, and he had taken those before. That couldn’t have been it. Al spent the next few minutes deflecting questions. He told Shaun and Eve that he thought he saw something, but when they pressed as to what he saw, he didn’t answer. Eventually he kicked them both out under the guise of “wanting to be alone.” Shaun said he would check back on him tomorrow.
Eve told him she’d be back after the weekend. As she left, she picked up the glasses from the floor.
“Here, Grandpa Al,” she said as she placed them on the small table next to his wheelchair. “They must have fallen off when Shaun fell into you.” Her words didn’t register with Al right way. He was racking his brain trying to decide if he was mentally unstable or hallucinating. Both? By the time he realized what Eve had said, she had already left.
“The glasses.” Al said aloud. He picked them up off the table and looked at them. He had been wearing them both times he saw the troll. He studied them for the first time. Metal frame, not plastic. Small amount of rust. The lenses were actually glass. They were heavy in his hands. And warm. Were they sitting in the sun? Al put them on. Nothing out of the ordinary. He painstakingly wheeled his wheelchair into the hallway and looked around. Just a normal hospital. Maybe he was going nuts. He wheeled down the hall in the direction the troll had gone.
As he rounded the corner he saw doctors and nurses were working frantically in a patient’s room opposite the nurse’s station. Someone must have forgotten to close the door. A woman lay on the bed, motionless. An EKG ticked away the woman’s heartbeat in an irregular rhythm. The little foreign doctor seemed to be monitoring the machine. A gaggle of lady nurses stood by looking worried. A family member was escorted out of the room. A little red troll stood in the corner.
“What the fucking fuck.” Murmured Al to himself. He took the glasses off and the troll disappeared. He put them back on and it reappeared. He took them off again, slapped himself in the face, then put them back on. The troll remained. It stood in the corner, but in plain view. It was hideously ugly: big nose, wrinkled skin, warts all over, patches of hair, shriveled dick, one leg shorter than the other. It held some sort of metal box. The little doctor moved suddenly to the corner of the room to get something from a table. The doctor stumbled over the troll. He reprimanded a nurse, thinking it was her that he had tripped over.
Al couldn’t believe his eyes. No one could see it but him. But it was there. The doctor had tripped over it. The troll seemed unphased by the physical contact with the doctor. It simply hunkered further into the corner, waiting. For what?
The woman’s EKG went from irregular beeping to one solid beep. Doctors and nurses went into action, taking out the defibrillator and doing chest compressions. As they worked trying to save her, the dying woman started to glow a faint white. The glow grew brighter as a phantasmal form of the woman, like a spirit, floated out of her body and ascended slowly upwards. Al quickly removed the glasses. No spirit. He put them back on and saw the spirit once again. A quick glance at the doctors and nurses proved that Al was the only one witnessing the spiritual ascendance. The spirit of the woman seemed to be similng as it levitated higher. Suddenly, the troll sprang into action. It darted under a nurse’s legs and lifted the metal box from under its arm. It held the box in one hand and turned a crank with the other.
The astral form of the woman stopped ascending and began dissipating. The spirit seemed to panic, its face contorted. The troll feverishly operated the crank and the spirit was torn apart and sucked into the box. The troll darted out of the room, pressed a button on the metal box which opened an ovular portal, and rushed through as the portal closed. The troll, the box, and the portal had all disappeared.
It all happened so fast, Al hardly registered it. He sat there in his wheelchair, dumbfounded, as the hospital employees covered the woman’s corpse and wheeled it away.
“Technically, what you’re talking about is a goblin, not a troll.” Mario had one hand on a large book, the other was inside a bag of Doritos. “Straight up goblin, that’s my professional opinion.” Mario sat in Al’s wheelchair, his legs kicked up on the hospital bed. The book he had was called Dungeon Master’s Guide. His shirt said ‘Dragon Slayer.’ Eve was sitting on the windowsill, looking mildly concerned. Shaun, the nurse, had Al’s chart in one hand, but was listening to the conversation intently. Al stood shakily in the doorway of his room. He had one hand on his walker, the other on the doorframe. Wearing the red glasses, Al kept looking down the hallway, as if expecting to see someone.
“Why the sudden interest in Dungeons and Dragons?” Eve asked.
“Man, if you want to get a game together, I’ll DM.” said Mario.
Al searched for an answer for Eve. “Bored of soap operas I guess. So these trolls-”
“Goblins.” Mario corrected.
“Goblins,” continued Al, “Are they good creatures or bad?”
“Chaotic neutral usually. They just do things to cause trouble. Killing, biting, stealing-”
“Stealing?” Al interrupted.
“Sure.” said Mario
“What would they steal?”
“I don’t know. Gold, livestock.”
“What about their machinery? Do they have machinery?”
“Like weapons? Sure, I guess.” Mario paused and wiped his Dorito fingers on his jeans. “Listen man, I can’t help but notice you’re weirdly obsessed with goblins. There are tons of other characters you could be. I’m a big fan of elves.”
“Man, this game sounds awesome.” said Shaun “Like, super nerdy and basically pointless, but also super awesome. I watched my friend play in college and I just kept thinking about how much of a loser he was. Not that you guys are losers for wanting to play. I mean, society probably still views you as losers, but I don’t. I’m sort of interested. How long does it take to play?’
“I mean, I could write us a good campaign that would only take 7 or 8 weeks. But the best ones are longer.”
Shaun continued to barrage Mario with a series of questions about how to play Dungeons and Dragons. Mario shifted the conversation to Lord of The Rings, which seemed to be a particular interest of his. As they spoke, Eve noticed that Al had drifted away from the conversation and seemed to be lost in thought. He kept a sharp eye on the hallway though. And over Eve’s last few visits, he always wore those red glasses. She was starting to worry about him. Grumpy and standoffish were always his modus operandi, but paranoid and inquisitive didn’t fit. Something was wrong. Eve was sure of it.
“Mario,” Al said suddenly, disrupting a conversation about hobbits, “These goblins. What are their weaknesses?
***
Al stood outside his new hospital room ruminating. Having been moved to the physical therapy wing of the hospital, Al had more difficulty finding the goblins. It had been 4 weeks since the first sighting. In that span, Al had watched helplessly as 4 different spirits of the faithful departed had been sucked into the goblins’ soul-sucking box. He had ruled out insanity and hallucinations; he was sure this was happening. Over the last few weeks, Al had collected enough observational data to draw some conclusions regarding the goblins. He concluded the following:
- The goblins knew when someone was about to die; they always showed up before the hospital “code blue” was announced over the PA.
- The goblins traveled by means of a handheld metal device, which Al began referring to colloquially as the box.
- The purpose of the goblins’ entrance into our dimension was to steal the souls of the recently deceased.
- The box, which had a crank similar to an old fashioned car window crank, sucked the souls into itself when cranked.
- There were more than one of these goblins, (Al had noticed subtle differences in stature and coloration), but they always came one at a time.
- Other than the crank, the box had one button. This button operated the portal and allowed for the goblin to return to wherever it came from.
Al had gathered this information in a blue notebook that Shaun had given him. The notebook contained not only written documentation of the sightings, it also included various other theories as to the designs and origin of the goblins. Al had even attempted to sketch a few images of the goblins and the box. Eve had expressed worry for him on more than one occasion. She was coming to visit more frequently, perhaps as a result of this worry. He dare not tell Eve or Shaun (or anyone) what he was seeing. How could they believe it? No, the goblins were his burden to bear.
Physical therapy had been going well and Al was almost ready to be released. The therapist suggested it could be as early as next week. His new hip didn’t feel too sore and he was being weaned off his pain medication. He spent most of his days walking up and down the hospital hallways with his walker or cane. He always wore the glasses. It had been two days since someone had died, but Al was patient. He had been patient in the jungle with those bastards in ‘Nam. He could be patient in here for these little ones.
He didn’t wait long. It was later that day when the next code blue finally came. Al headed swiftly to the emergency wing, his cane tapping the ground in between steps. Al arrived in the emergency wing and assessed the situation. Looked like the man had had a stroke. He had a team of hospital staff working on him. Al saw the goblin in the corner of the room immediately.
Goblin behavior was predictable. No reason for caution if you are invisible to your enemies. Al stood for about 20 minutes as the hospital team worked in vain. Then, the man’s spirit appeared and began its ascent. Predictably, the goblin leapt into action, cranking the metal box feverishly. Al knew his window would be small. He readied himself. The goblin finished its work and darted into the hallway. With one swift movement, Al wielded his cane like a baseball bat and smacked the metal box from the goblin’s hands just as it was about to press the portal button. The box fell to the ground with an audible crash. Al had sacrificed his balance for the swing, and he fell into a heap next to the box. The goblin picked up the box and began to frantically press the portal button, but it was no use, the box was done for.
Al looked at the goblin, which was only about two feet away from his face. The little monster was panicking, but didn’t seem to understand that Al had broken the box purposefully. The goblin didn’t run away or look toward Al. Perhaps it thought that Al had fallen into it accidentally? Al studied the creature for a split second. It was even more hideous up close. And the smell! It smelled like garbage and eggs. And something else. Smoke? Sulfur? Disgusting.
Al used his cane to lift himself up to his knees. A nurse, who had surely seen him fall, was rushing over. He would have to do this quick. From his knees, Al raised his cane with both hands and looked directly at the goblin’s head. The goblin looked up at him, its yellow eyes locked with his own for the first time. Realization dawned on its face as it began to understand the imminent danger it was in.
“I see you.” Al said as he tightened his grip on his cane. The goblin bared a set of razor sharp teeth and made a hideous sound just as Al’s cane collapsed its skull.
The nurse helped Al to his feet as other hospital employees and a few good samaritans gathered around to assist. They were asking if he was injured and brushing the dirt off of his back. Al’s eyes went to the goblin’s corpse, but it was gone. Al looked down the hallway. A different goblin stood next to a portal and operated a new metal box. A second goblin held the broken pieces of the smashed box in its hands. A third goblin dragged the corpse of the dead goblin. All three of them disappeared through the portal.
Out of breath and sore, Al walked back to his room. When he got to it, Eve was there.
She stood next to his bed, open notebook in hand, reading. His blue notebook. “Put that down.” He said sharply.
She didn’t. “Grandpa Al, what is this?” She looked down at the notebook and began reading aloud. “Goblins are likely collecting the spirits of the dead as an energy source? They use the energy to operate their soul-sucking machines?” She looked up at him, concern all over her face.
“Put it down, Evelyn.”
She kept reading. “Goblins likely live in hives or clusters, probably underground, perhaps in a different dimension-” Al rushed toward her, dropping his cane, and tore the notebook from her hands.
“What do you think you’re doing? If they hear-” Al lowered his voice. “If they hear you, they’ll know we’re on to them.”
“Grandpa Al, who do you think is going to hear?”
“The goddamn fucking goblins, Evelyn. The goblins. They can hear us, I’m sure of it.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Their ears are twice the size of ours. Like elf ears.”
“Grandpa Al, you’re scaring me.” Eve took a step back. Al seemed to recognize her fear.
He had gone too far. Shouldn’t have said anything. Had to cover.
“Sorry, I’m just confused. It’s this pain medication they have me on.” Eve read the lie in his eyes and on his face.
“And the notebook..?”
Al struggled with a response. Eve didn’t wait for the next lie. She left without saying another word.
***
Tim, whom Al had come to call “the drooler” was conspicuously dry-mouthed today. Al stood in the corner of the room watching him. When Tim spoke, he usually talked about mice that wore top hats and participated in fencing matches under the floorboards. Sandy, the stout woman, shouted about Russian spy-cities that floated high above the clouds. Ahmed whispered about astronauts that melted aliens and mixed their corpse-dust into our water supply. Another day at Lazy Oaks Psychiatric Hospital.
When they had come to take him here, he had kicked and screamed and ranted and raved. He shouted things like “infestation” and “goblin-king” and “subterranean network.”
After Al’s third escape attempt, this one involving a mail truck, they put him in the maximum security wing of the asylum. That was day 6. “Max”, as the prisoners called it, proved a difficult egg to crack. Constant video surveillance, formalized guard rotations, no visitors, and ankle bracelets with GPS trackers. After only a few days in max, Al realized that he had to play the long con. He needed to Andy Dufresne this place. So he kept quiet and took his medicine. He stopped cursing at guards. He didn’t talk about goblins.
Al had only slipped up once. On day 13 one of the other men in max, Blake, had choked on a hot dog and died. As the psychiatric staff carted Blake’s corpse away, Al had to be restrained by a team of guards. He was swinging his cane back and forth wildly, shouting things like “red devils” and “godamn motherfuck redskins.” People assumed he was really prejudiced against Native Americans.
Now it was day 54. Al walked constantly in his first few weeks. Eventually, he had no need for his cane but carried it everywhere still. Week 3 he started doing lunges. He could feel his body transforming. He was breathing better. His muscles got larger. By week 5 he was doing most of his Vietnam morning regimen.
Al was single minded in his aims. He didn’t think much of his family and his cigarettes, which he did miss. But most of all he missed the red glasses. Being here without them was likely flying an airplane blindfolded. He knew they were out there, sucking souls left and right. And he was in here. Stuck with Tim the drooler. For now. Al dropped to the ground and did 30 push-ups.
***
Eve sat in her dorm. Advanced Macroeconomics lay open in front of her, but she couldn’t focus. When Eve had shared her concerns for Grandpa Al with her mother, she thought then that she was doing the right thing. When they dragged him away, she doubted herself. Now she just felt guilt, heavy like a block of lead, sitting on her chest.
“You haven’t turned the page of that book for an hour. Are you lamenting the fruitlessness of our existence?” Kim, her roommate. Philosophy major. Enlightened.
“I don’t know. No. Just thinking about Grandpa Al.”
“Here we go again.” Kim set down her pencil and turned toward Eve. “Your guilt is simply a manifestation of your subconscious urges. Master your urges and you master the guilt. Transcend.”
“Whenever I think about it, I know it was my fault. He’s in there because of me.”
“Incorrect. Your grandfather is in a psychiatric hospital because he is schizophrenic. It’s the best place for him. We’ve talked about this before. Your urge to participate in circular logic shows weakness.”
“But what if he isn’t crazy?”
“Consider the alternative: Goblins travel through portals to steal people’s souls.” Kim stood up and assumed another one of her Tai Chi poses. “Fascinating, but an impossibility.”
Eve knew she was right. It was obvious Grandpa Al had been having hallucinations. Of course Eve didn’t believe the things he said. But she couldn’t help but think that throwing Grandpa Al in an insane asylum was an overreaction. Her mom had always hated Grandpa Al. They hadn’t spoken in 3 or 4 years. Eve wanted to believe her mom locked him away because she thought it was the right thing to do, what if it was some sort of weird revenge, born from years of resentment? Did her mom really hate Grandpa Al that much?
“I have to do something, Kim. He’s family. I just don’t know what to do.” Eve said, looking back toward Kim, who was still doing Ta Chi poses, but was now stark naked. “Jesus Christ, Kim.”
“The only one who fails is she who does not move. I will help you.” said Kim.
Eve averted her eyes. “Thanks, but please put clothes on.”
***
Mario thought he looked fairly ridiculous in a pizza-delivery outfit, but to any objective observer, he fit the pizza-man mold pretty perfectly. Kim walked next to him, wearing a matching outfit. They walked past the Lazy Oaks sign and were buzzed in the front door.
“Alright, play it cool.” said Mario.
“I will maintain calm, but you are sweating profusely. Much more than a normal man should sweat. This indicates nervousness. We will likely fail,” said Kim.
“I’m sweating because I’m fat, not nervous.” he responded. The pizza boxes contained a porcelain knife and a change of clothes. Mario had eaten the pizza. Eve’s plan was fairly simple. Cut off Al’s ankle bracelet to prevent them from tracking him and get him into an outfit that would disguise his identity, enabling their escape. Eve had chosen Kim and Mario to execute the plan. Eve had visited Grandpa Al in his first few days at Lazy Oaks, before they stopped allowing him to have visitors, and she was worried they would recognize her. Kim and Mario, the dynamic duo, passed through a metal detector and were greeted by a front desk attendant in a brown suit.
“I have two pizzas for Al Whitmer.” said Mario.
“A resident or an employee?” the attendant said.
“Resident.” said Mario, sweating nervously. After a moment, the attendant frowned and shook his head.
“Sorry,” he said. “That resident is not allowed delivery privileges. No visitors at all, actually.”
“We don’t want to have to use violence.” said Kim.
“What was that?” said that attendant.
“Nothing.” said Mario, shooting Kim a look. “She’s new. I’m training her.”
“I see,” said the attendant, taking out his mustache comb. “Tell you what. I wouldn’t want that pizza to arrive cold on account of me. Why don’t I let you through, just this once.”
“Really? Alright, sweet man.” said Mario. The attendant let them in. Outside, Eve paced beside Cameron’s car.
“It’s not going to work.” she said.
“You’re probably right.” replied Cameron as he looked at her. “But I hope it does.”
“Why? You hate Grandpa Al.”
“I wouldn’t be your getaway driver if I hated the dude. Yeah he sucks, but hate is a strong word. Those who hate others only hate themselves.” said Cameron.
“You sound like Kim.”
“Yeah, I’m boning her.”
“What?”
“Kim and I. We’re boning. We bone.” said Cameron. Eve had to suspend her surprise because at that moment Mario, Kim, and Al came running out of Lazy Oaks. Things must have gone badly inside: Al was half dressed, Kim was holding the knife, and Mario was drenched in sweat.
Mario thought that the three were certainly an odd group running across the field being chased by a swarm of psychiatric hospital staff. Mario found himself lagging behind Al and Kim. Shouldn’t have eaten all those Doritos. Probably eating two entire pizzas for the sole purpose of emptying out the boxes was an equivalent mistake. Mario looked ahead to Al and Kim, who were running in tandem. How is that old dude so fast? Mario glanced behind and thought it was convenient that most of the employees were portly and over 40. Still, they gained on Mario.
Fuck. Kim and Al were almost to the car. Mario solemnly swore that if he escaped he would switch to veggie sticks. This thought had just crossed his mind when his ankle snapped and he went down, hard. He screamed in pain. He sat up and looked at his foot, which was twisted fully perpendicular to the rest of his leg. The hospital staff was almost upon him. Eve had started to come toward him. He shouted for her to go, and, hesitantly, she got into the car with the others.
They sped away, leaving Mario behind. Eve handed Al the red glasses. He put them on.
***
Shaun was driving home from the hospital, listening to a podcast on The Battle of Hornburg. He had found that his interest in historical wars made it easy for him to become seriously interested in fictional wars. William Westmoreland and Gandolf had a lot more in common than one might think. When Shaun pulled into his driveway, he was surprised to see Al Whitmer standing on the front porch.
“I thought you went crazy.” Shaun said to Al as they walked into the house.
“Mostly rumors. I went to Lazy Oaks for a week or two and then they let me out. Clean bill of health.” Al didn’t like having to lie, but desperate times. The two men sat over coffee and chatted about Vietnam. Al shared with Shaun some of his more “Rated-R” stories from the war, including one about an M2 thrower.
“Man, you should see my basement. It’s decked out with ordinance. That is, if you want to. I know a lot of guys have PTSD or whatever, and if that’s you, no big deal man. But I have some pretty cool shit down there.”
“Sure, I’ll take a look.” Al responded. They walked downstairs and Shaun opened up a room filled with Vietnam-era weaponry. Guns, grenades, land mines.
“Now, some of this stuff is pretty illegal, so if anyone asks, you didn’t see anything.”
“No problem, kid.” Responded Al, carefully eyeing Shaun’s collection. “So…how much of this still works?”
***
Al walked quickly through the hospital halls, wearing Cameron’s trenchcoat and the red glasses. He had heard the code blue from the large waiting room on the first floor. His combat boots thudded steadily on the floor as he walked. Like before, he timed his movements carefully. He watched as the goblin cranked its box, sucking the soul into it. As the goblin darted into the hallway, Al positioned himself directly behind it and let the trenchcoat fall to the ground. This revealed 7 guns, a plethora of ammunition, and various grenades. All these weapons were strapped to his torso, except for a rifle which he carried with both hands. He was decked out. A regular goddamn American hero. The goblin was totally unaware as it pressed the button on the box. Al gripped his rifle tightly, gritted his teeth, and followed the goblin through the portal.
A man with a neatly-trimmed mustache and brown suit watched Al disappear. The man sighed deeply. He wiped his brow with a handkerchief. He pensively looked to the spot where he had last seen Al.
“We’re all counting on you now, Albert.” he said.
“Dude, did you say something just now?” said Mario, his foot in a cast and hand in a bag of veggie sticks.
“No.” said the man.
“Because I could have sworn you said something really ominous like, ‘we’re all counting on you’ or something like that.”
“No…that must have been…someone else.”
“Whatever, pal.” Mario emptied the bag of veggie sticks into his mouth.
Doug Devor is a schoolteacher from Cleveland. His work has been published previously by The Ohio Writers’ Association. His stage play, Stranger In Skitter Creek, was performed by The Lost Flamingo Company in Athens, Ohio. He also sold a flash fiction piece to a dude on Fiverr one time. That dude seemed to like it. Doug then used that five dollars to buy a pack of Magic: The Gathering cards. So he has a lot going for him, obviously.