MADMAN - John R. Suler, Ph.D. - copyright 1995
Chapter 25 - Fire, Snow
Doe must have gone back to the unit. Move! My legs and heart start pumping. What will I tell Fred? What if Doe isn't there? Shit, oh shit! The doorknob spins uselessly in my hand. Goddamn it! Not now!
"Did you really think it would be easy?" it remarks. I jerk it hard until something snaps and the door opens. A wall of smoke envelops me. People are screaming.
"Get the extinguisher!" someone shouts as silhouetted figures run to and fro. The flickering light of bright flames pierce the smoky haze. One of the library cubicles is on fire.
"Someone give me a hand with this!" Fred calls out. I run to his side and take the metal canister from him. "Upside down, you have to turn it upside down," he shouts. Foam sprays over the books and water pours down from the ceiling sprinklers. Refusing the onslaught of the clamor around me, my mind searches for an escape. It fixes onto something in the corner of the library cubicle - paper burning under a slow flame... the pages from a spiral notebook.
A loud crash transcends all the commotion in the room and wrenches my guts. Someone screams. "He's out! He's out!" Fred spots the danger first. "Holy shit!" he utters in horror.
There in Center Circle, with smoke swirling upwards around his body and water cascading downwards, is Richard Mobin. Fierce insanity oozes from his bloodshot eyes and twisted grin. He's clutching something in his fist, something shiny, metal. What is it? My eyes focus... SCISSORS.
"Someone call security," Fred cries out, and then turns to whisper to me. "Tom, you circle around to his left. Make sure the patients stay away. Let's try to maneuver him back into seclusion." My instincts tell me otherwise - they tell me to run, to run away as fast as I can. But fear saps the strength from my legs.
Slowly, Fred approaches him. "Richard, I want you to put down those scissors. Can you hear me? Just drop them onto the floor."
But Richard doesn't hear. He hears only the madness within. He raises the weapon above his head and bellows from deep inside his deranged world, "Now I spear YOU!"
His scream paralyzes me. I can do nothing to help as he lunges forward and stabs Fred in the shoulder. Fred falls, blood oozes onto his white shirt.
"Do something!" My Biographer says.
"I can't! I can't!" I plead pathetically.
A goose in a bottle.
There's nothing I can do.
Richard raises his arm to strike at Fred again. I see life and all reason collapsing before my eyes.
There's nothing I can do.
Shout your name!
Wiggle that finger!
Shout your name!
The knots inside me snap apart. Without thought or feeling, I quickly climb onto the countertop, launch my body through space, and land squarely onto Richard's back. Screaming, bucking, and flailing his arms, he tries to throw me off. I won't let go. I won't. My legs and arms hold tight as he runs through the smoke and water towards the exit. Back first, he plows through the doors. The blow dislodges me - I fall to the floor.
"Let go!" the doorknob interjects.
After him!
Why is it so important?
After him!
I sprint down the hallway as fast as I can. Confused, frightened people step aside. They hide between the rows of book shelves.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" the librarian asks.
"Stop, go," blink the cursors on the computer monitors.
After him!
My feet tumble confusedly down the stairs. "Do you really think this is therapeutic?" Hippocrates inquires.
After him!
The blinding snow whips into my face. I look to the left, and right - he's nowhere in sight. But there are tracks in the snow. A voice calls from the tree line - "Shout your name." Without hesitation, I follow it, past my snowbound car, past the oak tree that points its beckoning fingers into the wintry sky. Behind me the building disappears into the blustery haze. Staggering and stumbling, I run down the slope, further and further into the woods. The wet ground sucks one of the shoes off my foot, but I keep running.
There's someone up ahead, waiting for me.
Why is it so important?
I trip over something, my ankle twists, I fall head first into the snow. Pain radiates up my leg. I try to get up, and I fall again. The pain is excruciating. I can't move. I can't. A profound exhaustion sweeps through me. I lie there, staring at the bumper of a car jutting up out of the snow. I look up into the sky, into the wind and snow, knowing I've lost, knowing there is no hope left. The icy wind penetrates my shirt. My feet are wet, cold. What will Mobin do to me if he finds me? And if he doesn't, will anyone find me out here? "Sorry," My Biographer says, "there's nothing we can do."
A figure appears above me. "Where did you go?" I ask.
"You say that I've gone, but I've been here from the very beginning."
