The Seer by Clifford Beck - HTML preview

Chapter 42

There was an absent wind, and the sky filled with a steel gray as short rumbles of thunder drifted in from the distance. The newly mopped floors of Riverside Hospitals gleamed like a thinly frozen pond, waiting for the first delicate steps to walk along its surface. Donna was making another visit, and stepping out of the elevator. She made her way down to the day room. The television was always on, but it was unlikely that anyone was watching it, in spite of the weary sedated eyes fixed upon its screen. As she approached him, Donna noticed two large male nurses standing on either side.

“Is it okay if I visit with him?” she asked.

“Yeah, sure,” one of them replied. “Just don't make it too long. There was another incident today, and he might still be a little agitated.”

Donna looked at the nurse with a surprised expression. It had happened before, but Donna continued to hold out hope that Gordon's condition would improve.

“Was it the same thing as last time?” she asked. The nurse spoke with a tone of indifference. He hadn't been a nurse for very long, but it was clear that he had developed a deep disregard for the welfare of others.

“Yeah,” he replied. “He says he's seeing ghosts again.” Donna sat down next to him, and gently took his hand.

“Hey Gordo,” she began. “It's me.” Tears came to her eyes as her face began to flush. Gordon had fallen into a deep catatonic state during the assault carried out against him by the ghostly multitude at AMHI. Unable to cope with such an onslaught, Gordon blacked out, his mind refusing to accept the conflict he'd been fighting from the beginning. Now, he had taken up residence in the chronic care unit at Riverside Psychiatric Hospital, in Southern Maine.

His mind had shut itself off, disconnecting from things previously unimaginable, and with these, Gordon had also discarded reality, unable to separate the real world from the hoard of phantasms that seemed to have always been drawn to him. Donna released his hand, and softly stroked the side of his face with the back of her fingers.

“Gordo,” she whispered. “Please come back to me.” But, it was unlikely that Gordon heard even a single word, and Donna, unable to reach him, began quietly weeping. When they first met, both felt the spark, the essence of passion, as it came to life of its own creation. Now, Donna watched as the flame burned into a dying ember, while seeing Gordon disappear into the darkness of non-existence. Yet, she continued to visit, to talk to him, and with the approval of his doctor, Donna began reading to him, hoping someday, to see a flicker of emerging consciousness and the possibility that he might reclaim his life with her. But the dead would never let him go, and would remain, surrounding him with ethereal eyes, always peering into his blackened mind. They would always be there, always waiting. After all, dead is dead, and the dead have plenty of time.

End