The Forever Man: Axeman Read online

  Nathaniel’s thoughts became more and more morbid as he imagined himself one of only a handful of people left alive on a frozen island. Wandering in solitude like the great blue whales, their population so decimated that they could not even find each other to mate.

  It was in this mood, after a few hours of riding, that he came upon the fence. A high, chain link affair with a curved top. However, the top was curved inwards in order to stop people escaping. But the fence itself was too lightweight to be a prison fence. And there were no guard towers.

  Intrigued, Nathaniel decided to follow it and see what it was. He randomly chose to go right and, after around five minutes, he came across a high steel gate. On the gate was a sign, ‘Barnet House Psychiatric Hospital’. That explained the fence.

  His curiosity assuaged, the marine decided to press on. He had no desire to visit a lunatic asylum and he already had sufficient supplies of food so there was no real need.

  He nudged his horse with his heels and it broke into a faster walk, following the fence line, hooves crunching in the crisp snow.

  The horse heard the noise just before Nathaniel and it stopped walking and pricked it’s ears up. The marine wasn’t sure what it was. Almost the sound of wind. Maybe a keening animal. Nathaniel cocked his head to one side and concentrated. It was coming from a copse of fir trees on his left. He drew one of his shotguns and nudged the horse forward. As he got closer to the sound it became more obviously human. He dismounted and walked forward, pushing into the thick growth.

  There, sitting naked in the snow, was an adult man. His hair long and stringy with grease and dirt, his skin blue with cold. He had a pile of wood in front of him and was rubbing two sticks together in a completely unsuccessful attempt to start a fire.

  And all the while he keened like a trapped animal.

  He looked up at Nathaniel as the marine approached. ‘Good day, sire,’ he said. His voice a loud stage whisper. Both sibilant and demanding at once. ‘Welcome to my house. Please close the door, you’ll let all the heat out.’ He continued rubbing the sticks together.

  ‘So, my liege,’ he continued. ‘Pray be seated. Won’t be long and we shall have a nice steaming bowl of stew to nourish us. Oh yes. Stew. Beef. Not pork. No, no,’ he mumbled to himself as he shook his head vehemently. ‘Never pork. Never ever.’

  Nathaniel went back to his horse and pulled a fur blanket from, his saddlebag. He came back and draped it around the naked man’s shoulders.

  The man looked puzzled. Then he stroked the fur. ‘Soft,’ he said. ‘Warm.’

  Nathaniel nodded, then asked. ‘What is your name?’

  The man shook his head. ‘Don’t know. Funny that, I know that I have a name. I know that. But can’t remember it, sire. Can’t remember.’ He stared at the pile of wood for a while and then tears rolled down his cheeks. ‘No fire,’ he said. ‘And no stew. None. Not even pork. Nasty pork.’

  ‘Are you from the hospital?’ Asked Nathaniel.

  ‘Yes,’ replied the man. ‘I suppose that I am. I’m mad, you see, my liege. Mad. But I had to leave, had to. Pork stew. Nasty. Had to leave.’

  ‘Are you Jewish?’ Asked Nathaniel, wondering at the man’s aversion to pork.

  The man glanced down at his own penis and pulled at it, displaying his foreskin. ‘No, see. Not Jewish. No, no. Pork is evil. Evil.’

  ‘Well you can’t stay out here,’ aid Nathaniel. ‘You’ll die. I need to take you back.’

  The man nodded. ‘No escape. Must go back. Mad, completely mad.’

  Nathaniel led the man to his horse and helped him mount up. Then the marine led the horse back to the gates. But the gates were locked and there was no way in.

  ‘How did you get out?’ He asked the man.

  ‘Climbed a tree,’ he said. ‘Jumped. Flew. Like a squirrel. Flew and flew.’

  Nathaniel thought for a while. Then he drew one of his shotguns out. ‘Block you ears,’ he said to the man. The man clasped his hands over his ears like a child. Nathaniel pulled the trigger twice. Then he flipped open the shotgun, reloaded and fired twice again. Then they waited.

  They didn’t have to wait that long before a man in a thick woollen coat came trudging down the long driveway towards them.

  ‘Hello,’ he shouted as he drew near.

  ‘Hello,’ greeted Nathaniel in return.

  ‘Ah, I see that you have found mister Cosmo for us.’

  The naked man nodded. ‘That’s right. Cosmo. He knows. He knows. I be Cosmo, sire. Cosmo, the not Jew, esquire. Mad. At your service, my liege.’

  ‘My name is doctor Luckman, Henry Luckman,’ said the newcomer as he pulled a bunch of keys from his pocket. ‘I’m the head doctor at this establishment.’ He unlocked the gate, opened it and beckoned to them to come in, closing the gate behind them.

  Nathaniel continued to lead the horse as he followed the doctor up the driveway.

  ‘Thank you very much for bringing Cosmo back,’ said the doctor. ‘Mister?’

  ‘Hogan. Master sergeant Nathaniel Hogan, United States Marine Corps.’

  ‘Impressive, ‘said doctor Luckman. ‘And what brings you to these parts?’

  ‘I was based in London. At the embassy. Left. Headed north. That’s about it.’

  They reached the front door of the hospital. It was a large Victorian edifice done in a Gothic revival style. All red brick, mullioned windows, cupolas and round roof turrets.

  ‘Tie your horse up here to the railings,’ said Luckman. ‘I’ll send someone to take care of it. Come inside and let’s get Cosmo warm and dressed.’

  The interior of the building was dark and cold. The double volume entrance hall so gloomy that the ceiling was hidden in darkness.

  They traipsed down a dingy corridor past rows of doors until they came to room number 47. The doctor opened the door and steered Cosmo in.

  The room was tiny. A single steel bed, thin mattress, scratchy grey and blue blanket. A grimy window let in a shaft of dirty light. Dust motes danced in the dull beam. The room smelled of mildew and stale urine. Sour and musty.

  Nathaniel noticed that the bed had side rails with leather retaining straps attached.

  Doctor Luckman helped the inmate into a tracksuit. A faded yellow nylon with black stripes down the arms. The color brought out the unhealthy pallor of Cosmo’s complexion. Sallow spongy flesh and red-rimmed eyes.

  He sat down on the bed, hands between his knees, face blank.

  Luckman and Nathaniel left the room. The doctor locked the door behind them.

  ‘What’s wrong with him?’ Asked Nathaniel.

  ‘Delusions,’ answered Luckman. ‘Combined with paraphrenia and late onset psychosis. The whole package.’

  ‘What can you do for him?’

  ‘Not much, sergeant. We have been administering respiridone but our stocks of most drugs have now run out. We try to keep them safe. Alive. Therapy when we can. There are over one hundred and twenty patients and only six staff. Myself, doctor Maxim, four nurses. Three male and one female. The rest left to try to reach their families. None returned.’

  ‘How are you for supplies? Food, water?’

  A stream runs past the north fence. And we have some livestock. Sheep and pigs. At the moment we are fine. Well off, actually. Please, stay with us for the night if you’d like. Rest up and get some food inside you. There’s lots of extra room.’

  Nathaniel nodded. ‘Thank you, doctor. I will.’

  The doctor showed Nathaniel to a room on the second floor of the institute. It was substantially larger than Cosmo’s room and it had the added luxury of a fireplace. A small stack of logs and kindling stood next to the fireplace and the bed had a bright red woolen blanket on it.

  ‘I’ll get someone to bring your kit up and to stable your horse,’ said Luckman. ‘I’m afraid that I must ask that you stay in your room unless someone comes to escort you. We do have some patients who tend to wander and they can be dangerous. Also, the sight of a stranger may cause some of them to
panic. I hope that you don’t mind?’

  Nathaniel shook his head. ‘Not at all. I’ll use the chance to get some rest. Thanks, doctor. I appreciate the welcome.’

  Luckman smiled and left the room. Nathaniel heard the key turn and when he tried the doorknob he found that the room had been locked. He thought it a little strange but was unperturbed. If he did feel the need to go anywhere he could walk through the locked door as easy as if it were made of cardboard.

  He went to the bed, stripped back the blanket and went to sleep.

  ***

  Nathaniel woke to the sound of the doorknob turning. He slipped out of bed and stood against the wall. He glanced out of the window and was surprised to see that it was already dark. He had slept for at least four hours.

  Doctor Luckman walked into the room holding a lit candle.

  ‘Sergeant,’ he whispered.

  ‘Over here,’ answered Nathaniel.

  Luckman literally jumped a foot into the air. ‘Holy crap! You shocked me.’

  Nathaniel grinned. ‘Sorry, doc.’

  ‘I was wondering if you would like to join the staff for an early meal. We tend to eat when the sun goes down and wake with it’s rising.’

  The marine nodded. Thank you, doctor. Should I follow you?’

  ‘Please.’

  Luckman turned from the room and led Nathaniel down the corridor. They descended a flight of stairs and then meandered through a maze of corridors, the candle the only light to guide them. Some of the rooms that they passed had their doors shut but it was obvious from the moans and groans inside that they housed patients.

  ‘Are any of the patients dangerous?’ Asked Nathaniel.

  The doctor shook his head. ‘Only to themselves. Or perhaps they may inadvertently strike out, but we have no psychopaths or such what. Although, I am sure that the main reason that we have not been disturbed or even attacked by any roving gangs is that people assume that the place is overrun with madmen. What with the high fence and all, people assume the worst. All the better for our security. Ah, here we are. ‘ Luckman pushed open a door and led Nathaniel into the kitchens.

  There were five people sitting around a large wooden table in the center of the kitchen. Randomly placed candles provided flickering pools of light that reflected off the stainless steel catering goods. Stoves, refrigerators and sinks. None of them working anymore. The cooking was being done on a small wood-burning stove situated under an open window, a makeshift flue guiding the bulk of the smoke out of the room.

  Nathaniel could smell the food. A rich stew of some sort. His mouth instantly started watering as he realized how hungry he was.

  Luckman introduced everyone as a group.

  ‘People,’ he said. ‘This is sergeant Nathaniel Hogan. Sergeant, these are the doctors and nurses that I told you about.’

  The people at the table mumbled a response, their demeanor less than friendly.

  There were four men and a person wearing a dress. Nathaniel assumed that she was a woman although the large quantity of hair on her upper lip and her massive, raw-boned hands tried desperately to belie the fact. The woman stood up, walked over to the stove and lifted the lid off the pot. She gave the stew a perfunctory stir and then grunted her approval. She ladled two plates full and brought them back to the table, placing one in front of the doctor and one in front of the marine. Nathaniel thanked her but she completely ignored him. She shuttled back and forth two more times, serving everyone. Then she went around the table pouring water from a jug into glasses. Once again Nathaniel voiced his thanks and once again she ignored him as if he didn’t exist.

  The stew was good. Rich and high on meat and fat. Barely any vegetables. It suited Nathaniel who had been living on a diet of lean rabbit and root vegetables. Apart from Luckman, who kept up an uninterrupted patter, the rest of the table said nothing. The only other sound beside Luckman’s chatter was the slurping and grunting of the woman as she snuffled away at her plate of food. She fetched herself two more helpings before Nathaniel had even finished one.

  ‘The first few weeks were the easiest,’ said Luckman. ‘We had all of the necessary drugs and more staff than we do now. But, by the end of the second week we were out of most of the stronger drugs and people had accepted that the lights weren’t coming back on, so most of them left to find their families and such. We all stayed on. Someone had to. Many of the patients are almost comatose. Some show dangerous levels of self-violence. Most of them have to be restrained for their own safety. And now, with the drugs all gone, we are starting to experiment with more old fashioned methods.’

  ‘Like what?’ Asked Nathaniel.

  ‘Acupuncture. Art therapy. Hypnotism.’

  ‘Does it work?’

  Luckman shrugged. ‘Not really. Sometimes a little.’

  The woman spoke for the first time. Her voice was surprisingly high and breathless. Like a small child. She even had a slight lisp. ‘Discipline,’ she said. ‘Discipline, a bland diet and lots of fresh air. Sometimes the old ways can be the best.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Asked Nathaniel. ‘Do you mean like beatings and starvation?’

  She nodded. ‘If needs be. It’s for their own good you know. They need to stay docile or else how could we control so many of them. Without us they wouldn’t last a week. Not even three days and some would be dying from lack of water. Many of them are incapable of even the simplest of tasks.’

  She snuffled as she shoveled more stew into her mouth, chewing noisily. Mouth open.

  The rest of the table stood up and took their dishes to the sink. Nathaniel did the same. The woman had taken the pot of stew to the table and was scraping the remnants onto her plate, licking her lips noisily as she did so.

  Nathaniel looked away. The sight of her made him feel nauseous and the pig-like sounds that she made didn’t help very much.

  ‘Doctor Luckman,’ said Nathaniel. ‘I know that it’s early but I’d like to take this chance to catch up on my sleep and then leave real early if that’s okay by you?’

  ‘Of course, sergeant,’ agreed Luckman. ‘I’ll escort you to your room.’

  ‘No need,’ said Nathaniel. ‘I know the way.’

  ‘On no, that won’t do,’ fussed Luckman. ‘After all, there is your safety to think about as well as the safety of the patients.’

  Nathaniel thought about arguing and then decided that he just couldn’t be bothered. A good nights sleep and then he was out of here.

  Once again they trudged through dark, dank corridors until they came to Nathaniel’s room. The doctor gave Nathaniel a lit candle, closed the door and locked it.

  With a skill brought from years of military training the marine lay down and fell asleep almost immediately, sticking to the old maxim of sleep and eat whenever you can, because tomorrow you may not get the chance.

  The next morning he awoke early, perhaps two hours before sunrise. He waited for a while, sitting on the edge of his bed. Then he finally lost his patience. He put on his kit, strapped on his weapons and gave the door a shove. He felt the lock strain against the doorjamb. Trying to cause as little damage as possible, Nathaniel leant against the door and slowly applied more and more pressure. With an almost gentle pop the lock sprung and the door opened.

  Now, firstly he had to get to Cosmo’s room because he still had one of Nathaniel’s fur blankets. Then he needed to find his horse, get someone to open the gates and go on his way.

  He remembered that Cosmo had been taken to room number 47, so it was a simple task to follow the numbers until he found himself outside the room. He tried the door and, to his surprise, it was open. He walked in to find the room empty. His fur blanket was lying on the floor next to the bed. Nathaniel picked up, rolled and slung it over his shoulder.

  Next to find where his horse was.

  He wandered aimlessly along the dark corridors. He could hear patients behind locked doors. Some weeping, some shouting, others carrying on what seemed like a totally normal conversation
, bar the fact that they were alone.

  He quickly lost his bearings in the Escher-like meanderings of the Gothic build. Some corridors simply petered out. Others took a bewildering series of turns. Some rose up a series of steps and then dropped by the same number again. Some almost pitch black. At one stage he contemplated taking out his axe and simply hewing a straight line from where he was to an exterior wall.

  Finally he heard a noise. Two voices talking. One high, one low. Luckman and the female nurse with the appetite. He headed down the corridor towards the door at the end that had light flowing from under it.

  He turned the door handle.

  And entered hell.

  Cosmo’s body hung suspended from a butcher’s hook in the center of the room. Hundreds of candles lit the area with a bright orange firelight. Hellfire. Luckman and the nurse wore long green surgical aprons. Both carried meat cleavers.

  Cosmo’s throat had been cut and he had been eviscerated. Nathaniel noticed his entrails sitting in a bucket close to his feet. They had started to flay the body, peeling the skin off, starting at his shoulders and working down. Red wet flesh exposed to the blaze of the myriad candles.

  In the far corner of the room were more butchers hooks hanging from the ceiling. Each one held a large portion of dressed red meat. Human flesh. Prepared for consumption.

  In the days of old, people used to refer to it as “long pork”.

  Nathaniel suddenly understood Cosmo’s obsessive hatred of pork.

  The woman screwed her face up and ran at the marine, her cleaver held above her head. Nathaniel simply whipped out a straight left jab that caught her flush on her nose, smashing it flat as it knocked her to the floor. She thrashed around on the tiled floor, slipping and sliding in the blood and squealing in a high porcine fashion. Grunting and slobbering at the same time.

  Luckman didn’t move. Simply stood, with a wry smile on his face. Seemingly unperturbed.

  ‘You said that you had cattle,’ said Nathaniel. ‘Cows and sheep and pigs.’

  Luckman shrugged. ‘Sorry. I lied. What did you expect? Hi, stranger, we’re doing fine for food because we eat the patients. Get real.’