Death in the Cold

**************************TRIGGER WARNING***********************

I realize some of the subject matter regarding harm to a child and mental health in this story may be distressing to some readers. However, elements of this story are autobiographical, and writing this was therapeutic.

**************************TRIGGER WARNING***********************

09:16 am. An oppressive heat hung in the air as Doctor Gerald Fitzsimmons approached the entrance to the Fort Logan Mental Health Institute. The humidity was such that he could feel the sweat running down the crevice between his pecs. It pooled up at the top of his fit but portly stomach forming a delta of sweat and cheap cologne.

“Good morning Lorain, who do I have this morning?” Gerry asked sipping on his earl gray skim milk scotch coffee abomination he called his Sunrise Delight.

“You’re seeing Louise Camp this morning. She believes that she is haunted by her son that drowned last winter.”

“Oh? How did that happen?” Gerry inquired looking over Louise’s chart.

“There’s a police report at the bottom of her file. But if you ask me, and I realize this is a bit unprofessional, you should ask her yourself. I'm told it’s quite an interesting experience.” Lorain responded with a wink.

“Normally I wouldn’t do such a thing. But let me ask you ‘professionally’, do you believe that it is in the patient’s best interest?” Gerry could feel his face turn warm as he held in his grin.

Lorain knew that grin, it was the closest thing Gerry had to a wink. It was the only tell he had left. Somehow, despite years of training from agencies Gerry had worked for, he could not get rid of it. It was the crack in his otherwise granite persona.

Gerry knew the American Psychological Association frowned upon placating such patients. But when you’re a burned-out, forcibly retired Air Force psychologist that can’t get to 11 without at least two drinks, sometimes getting these loons to spill the beans is the only entertainment you have. Well, that, and the Mulder-Scully special the Agency has been passing off as “just another show.” Ugh, suppose I should get to this, Gerry told himself as he entered the room.

“Good morning Mrs. Camp. How are you this morning?” Gerry asked Louise in his monotone, somewhere between Sunrise Delight one and two, manner.

“I-I’m fine, doctor. Sleep has been hard, but otherwise fine,” Louise said with a quiver in her voice.

“Oh, any particular reason you’ve been having trouble sleeping?” The doctor asked taking another sip.

“It-it’s the boy. He talks to me all night.” She responded shivering, despite the old army hospital’s room being a sweltering 89 degrees, with 43 percent humidity.

“Do you always shiver like this?” The doctor asked, not so discreetly pulling his sweaty testicle free from his thigh.

“I haven’t always. It started when we buried him.” She said trailing off midway through.

“Him? Who is this him?” Gerry asked as he rolled his Zippo across the leg of his pants and took a puff from his Turkish cigarette.

Thank God Deniz still had the good sense to send these. Then again, it’s the least he could do after that incident in Girne.

“H-h-him?” Louise began to shiver at a nearly uncontrollable rate.

“Yes. Who is this ‘him’ you keep referring to Louise?” the doctor asked, barely masking his irritation.

“I-I-I c-c-can’t. D-d-doctor W-W-Wallace u-used to p-put me under for th-th-that,” Louise’s lips began turning blue and her skin grew pale.

“Okayyy Louise. We can give that a try. But first, we’re going to take your temperature. LORAIN, THERMOMETER!!” Gerry shouted down the hall putting his cigarette out on the brick wall.

Louise’s eyes darted around the room as Lorain’s hollow steps came strolling down the asbestos green hallway towards the room. Louise caught the maroon of Lorain’s sundress, swishing to and fro, as she passed in front of the glass brick wall.

“Lorain, take her temperature and keep her company while I go to my office,” Gerry said in a commanding tone, as he slipped past Lorain and down the hall to his office.

“Alright, Mrs. Camp, let's make this as painless as we can. Open wide for me,” Lorain told Louise, sliding her hand into a latex glove.

Louise sat patiently with her mouth open.

“Oh, no, dear, other end. I can’t risk having you bite me,” Lorain said, making a circular motion in the air. And with that, Louise turned around dejectedly pulling her robe to the side.

“Looky there, a nice average 98.5. And you seem to be perspiring normally. Let’s get you some lunch.”

Oh boy, that’s rough. Gerry pulled the scotch from his drawer and poured himself another drink. No sense in masking it this time, this is going to be a rough ride, Gerry told himself as he slid his plate into the trash. Well, at least Barb gets something right, even if it took her 26 years.

12:23pm. Gerry approaches the examination room. Lorain is sitting in the hallway highlighting her TV Guide.

“Lorain, how are we looking? Has Mrs. Camp had something to eat?” Gerry asked as he peppered Lorain’s face with the smell of Barb’s pickled herring mustard curry casserole.

What possessed a woman to mix Scandinavian and Indian in that way is beyond me. But he seems to love it. Hell, it might be the only thing he loves anymore. Which is just fine. Barb can have that task, I got mine, Lorain told herself.

“She’s just finishing. But I can have her wrap it up if you want?” Lorain said with a hint of disregard in her voice.

“No, no, it’s fine. Let her finish. She’s going to need it. I’m going to have to give her the Erawan Treatment.” Gerry said, sighing and grabbing another cigarette. Pulling the cigarette from his mouth, he touched the cherry to the new one and crushed the old one beneath his loafer. “Bring me the tape and the kit, while I prep her.”

“Aaaa, are you sure about that? I don’t think…”

“I don’t pay you to think Lorain! I pay you to do. You know how often I do this. We both know the risk. Now, bring what I asked for,” Gerry screamed through his teeth, hoping that Louise was too enraptured in her meal and the din of Ricki Lake to catch the conversation.

“Yes, Gerry. Right away,” Lorain said as she began to scurry down the hallway with the sound of her heels clacking behind her. Gerry began to prep Louise for the Treatment.

“Louise, Louise, honey, over here,” Gerry said in the softest tone he could muster, barely vailing his annoyance that despite having turned off the TV, Louise was still staring blankly in the set’s direction.

“LOUISE!!” Gerry screamed, snapping his fingers in front of her face.

“Y-yes?” Louise said with the same puzzled look one would have if they had just awoken from a deep slumber.

“Oh, goood, you’re back. Thank you for joining us. How was lunch?”

“It was fine. A bit cold, but fine,” she responded.

“Cold? Cold? You’re telling me that the grilled cheese and tomato soup was cold?” Gerry admitted it's an odd choice for such a hot day, but he’s not the kitchen director. It’s not the first time, and Margret has made stranger choices. Why not grilled cheese and tomato soup today?

“Alright, Louise, this treatment is going to be a lot different than what you had with doctor Wallace. Some friends and I developed this technique a few years back while doing some field research in Indochina. I'm going to let down the sides of the couch, and I need you to lay on your back and hum your favorite lullaby. Don't stop until I say. I’ll be back shortly.”

Gerry let down the back and right arm of the couch and waited for Louise to begin humming. Little did she know, these would be her last minutes of calm for the next few hours to days. Then Gerry closed the blinds, and quietly slipped out of the room and across the hall to another exam room. He began dialing home.

Ring, ring, ring, ring, ring, Gerry heard the tape click on.

“Hello, loves, you’ve reached the residence of Doctor Gerry and Barbara Fitzsimmons. Please leave your name and number at the beginning of your message, and we will return your call soon. Have a blessed day.”

“Barb, Ger, I have another one. I need you to bring the bag, a carton from the study, and two days’ worth of food.” And with that, Gerry hung up the phone and returned to the hallway. Eight minutes later Loraine returned with the kit and tape.

“It’s all here Gerry. I even brought the ‘good’ headphones,” she said nervously as she set the box down on the cheddar orange chair in the hallway.

“Thank you,” Gerry responded as he inspected the contents of the box. “You can go now.”

“Yes, Gerry.” She said slowly backing away before turning.

“Oh. Lorain.”

“Yes?” A chill of fear ran down her spine.

“It’s Doctor.”

“Yes, Ger-doctor.”

Huuuhhh, Gerry exhaled as he closed the door, locked both locks, and began prepping the room. First, he lowered the projector screen, ensuring that it was still mounted at the proper 30-degree angle. Moving next to the projector, tracing every cord from its connection to its origin. Last was to turn on the green light, before drawing down the light suppression shades. This last step was one of the most important, as Gerry and the Team had learned years ago that red light was slightly easier for writing in, but it had deleterious effects on the patient. And you can’t let damaged souls roam the streets of the free world.

Gerry had Louise sit up, he reached out his hands to hers and held them as he gave his instructions to her.

“Alright Mrs. Camp, it’s time to start your treatment. First, I am going to insert the IV. This will be how I administer the mild sedative you will be on during the treatment. It will feel strange, but you must not move. You will want to struggle against it, as it causes a burning sensation that begins in your tailbone and moves up your spine. I will be playing a film that should have a calming effect. However, if I determine that you are not taking the sedative well, I will discontinue treatment. While you watch that film, I need you to remain perfectly still and focus only forward on the projector. Do you understand?” Gerry asked.

“Y-yes,” Louise answered smiling nervously.

“Good. Now, relax your arm. Here’s your water, make sure to drink the whole glass. I would give you an IV drip, but it dilutes the medication. Don’t worry though, the medication only lasts for 48 hours at most. And I will bring you out of treatment well before then. Also, I can bring you out of it beforehand, if I feel we have gathered what we need. Go ahead and lay down, and put your headphones on. I will be able to hear you the whole time and will be recording your responses throughout. You have nothing to worry about,” Gerry said in his most reassuring tone. He knew that set and setting were key to this kind of treatment, for both of their sakes. And with that, he flicked on the projector and tape.

There it was, in all its glory. The audio and video series Gerry and his team spent the better part of 20 years curating. A lot of blood, sweat, and tears went into that thing. And that’s no euphemism. If the world only knew the kind of research they had been up to. The unfortunate reality is that terrible things only become unethical or unspeakable after they’ve occurred, never in the heat of a conflict. It was the only copy approved for domestic release.

Gerry let down the back of his lime Jell-O colored recliner to take a nap. There was no sense in stressing too heavily, yes, he told Louise he would record everything. But there was no need to be awake for this part. It’s not like he could hear the droning on of Fantasia bleeding into Fantastic Planet anyway. Little did Louise know it would be her last hours of peace for the next 12 to 48 hours.

Riiinnngggg, thunk, thunk, thunk. Gerry awoke to the sound of his alarm clock rattling across the table. Alright, suppose it’s time, he told himself. Opening the door, he quickly grabbed the bags left by Barb, cracked open the thermos, and lit a cigarette as he observed Louise’s breathing. Up, up, there we go, things are about to get interesting.

Gerry moved to Louise’s side and lifted her eyelids to observe her pupils. Good, she’s fully in her trance now, time to start. Gerry rapped on the coffee table.

“Good morning, Will,” he said in a fatherly tone.

“Hi, Dad,” Louise answered in a high-pitched, but distinctly masculinized voice, “Are you going to work?”

“I am. Are you still going with me?” He asked in a soft tone.

“Yeah. Can we get Mcdonald's?” The boy asked through Louise.

“We sure can buddy. Just get dressed, okay?”

“Okay,” Will answered. The treatment had taken full effect now. Gerry was no longer talking to Louise. Gerry played the car noise and “Hum Tape 3” together now. He needed to establish his voice in Will's internal monologue now.

“Will, where are you now?” Gerry asked.

“I’m in daddy’s truck playing with my green Dodge Hot Wheel.”

“Why are you in his truck? Weren’t you supposed to help him with work?” Gerry asked, ensuring to keep his fatherly tone.

“I am, but it’s too cold.”

“Do you know what day it is?” Gerry asked.

“It’s December 20th,” Will answered.

Gerry knocked on the table again. “What was that noise?”

“Daddy knocked on the door and asked me to help him real quick.”

“Oh? What did he ask you to do?”

“He wants me to turn off the water after he mixes the concrete.”

“What are you doing now?”

“I’m following him down the path. He’s mixing the concrete. He’s telling me just to follow the hose back to the spout.”

“How do you feel?”

“It’s cold, but I’m okay. Okay, he’s done. Time to run back.”

Louise began motioning with her hands.

“Where are you going?”

“I-I don’t know. I’m running as fast as I can. OH! OH, NO!!”

“What? What’s happening?”

“It’s so wet! What is this!?”

“Where are you? What’s happening?

“I DON’T KNOW. IT’S SO WET. IT’S COLD. MY BODY HURTS. I-I CAN’T SWIM. IT’S SO DARK. WHERE AM I?”

Louise began writhing on the couch. Thank God, I strapped her down, she could hurt herself.

“IT-IT’S CLOSING IN. OH, GOD!! I’M IN A POOL. I DIDN’T KNOW IT WAS THERE. THE SNOW COVERED IT ALL THE WAY! I-I CAN'T BREATHE. THE INSIDE OF MY CHEST HURTS AND FEELS WET. WHERE’S THE LIGHT? DADDY!! DADDY!! HELP!! I-I CAN'T SEE ANYMORE. I-I CAN'T FEEL MY LEGS OR ARMS. I’M TRYING TO MOVE. I CAN’T MOVE. IT’S LIKE A COLD, HEAVY WET BLANKET. IT HURTS. IT HURTS SO BAD.”

“What’s happening now?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Gerry asked puzzled.

“I don’t feel anything. I can’t feel my body. Is this what dying is like?”

Louise lay still on the couch. Gerry knew this was the transitional moment. He had anywhere from one to three minutes before the boy's post-mortem consciousness kicked in. So, he took a sip from his bottle of scotch and lit another cigarette.

Gerry felt a tear trickle down his cheek. A strange reaction for the otherwise stoic man. He had done these dozens of times before. But this was the first for a child. Most of his hauntings had been the ghosts of those killed in battle. And even then, it was rare that it was truly a ghost, it was usually just the psychological guilt induced by taking another life. He had assumed Louise was suffering from the latter.

Gerry thought to himself. Hell, even when if it was a ghost, it’s not like The Resurrectionists were doing clean work. We were just there to collect as much post-mortem intel as we could. The Company never cared about the damage to the afflicted. What parent wouldn’t be wrapped in guilt after their child drowned by falling through a pool cover in the dead of winter? Hell, she lost her whole family in three months. That poor man is now rotting in a cell for negligence. At least the retired judge is footing the bill for her care. It’s the least he could do. Who doesn't put a fence around their in-ground pool? Uh, uh, there it is. Louise’s breath began to return to normal.

“Will?” Gerry asked.

“Yes?” Will asked in a puzzled tone.

“Where are you now?”

“I’m standing next to the pool. There’s a boy on the ground in a black sleeping bag. He looks all wet and bluey.”

“Is anybody else there?”

“There’s lots of police and firemen. Maybe I can see inside their truck.”

“Where’s your dad?”

“I don’t see him. Oh, there he is. Sitting on a pool chair. He’s crying. Dad. Daddy, why are you crying?”

“What’s happening now?”

“The police are walking with us to the truck. I’m holding my dad’s hand. At least my hand is warm now. We’re getting in the truck. Dad? Dad? Can we get pizza? DAD!?”

“What’s wrong? Why are you shouting?” Gerry asked, putting his cigarette out on the bottom of his left shoe as it rested on his right leg.

“He’s not answering. What is wrong? Is he mad? Did I mess up? I can’t grab my truck either. A-am I dead? Was that boy me?”

“Where are you now?”

“We’re home. Mommy and daddy are fighting. Daddy is mad because mommy isn’t as upset as he thought she’d be. He doesn’t know why. But I do?”

“You do?”

“Yes. I’ve known for a long time.”

“Known what?”

“She didn’t care.”

“How did you know?”

“The first time was when she showed me where the doctor almost took me out as a baby.”

“She WHAT!?” Gerry exclaimed. He knew outbursts from the Controller were bad, but it just slipped. Who does that? He thought to himself.

“She took me to the doctor that gets rid of babies. Then there was last year.”

“Last year?” Gerry was puzzled, this wasn’t in the file.

“Yes. Last year I tied a jump rope around my neck and jumped off the playground. Don’t worry though. They didn’t love me. And I wouldn’t be missed.”

With that, Louise’s body went limp, laying in a pool of her sweat. What did I get myself into? Gerry was left stewing on that thought. For the next hour he checked her pulse and swabbed her mouth to check her pH balance, before making himself a bed on the recliner.

Six hours later, Gerry was catapulted awake by the sound of the night orderly, Kevin, knocking on the door.

“Everything is fine Kevin. Thank you.”

“No problem boss,” Kevin responded through the door.

Time to bring the boy back. Better light the sage and pomegranate oil.

“Will. Will.”

“Yes?”

“Why are you here now?”

“The man with many faces told me I had a choice. I could pass on to the land of ill-fated children, or I could stay.”

“Why did you stay?”

“I didn’t want to leave mommy or daddy. I loved them, even if they didn’t love me.”

“Do you think that tormenting your mother is loving her?”

“Oh, no. I do that for fun now.”

“For fun?”

Before Will could answer, Louise slipped back into her drug-induced coma. Gerry waited a couple of hours. I shouldn’t be letting her stay out this long.

“Will. Will.”

“Yes?”

“What is the fun you were talking about?”

“Oh, yes. Once I saw she used my death for her gain, I decided to torment her.”

“How are you so articulate for a boy of 10?”

“Many don’t know this, but when you die, every possible path of your life is laid before you. As time passes, they start to coalesce into one being. You can access any speech pattern you like once you start accessing your many routes. That is until…”

“Until what?” Gerry asked, leaning forward, gripping his pen so tight he thought it’d snap.

“Until your time stops. When your time stops, your paths converge at your age of death, and you remain that age for eternity. Or until you’re reborn”

“Reborn?” Gerry asked.

“Yes. We all have a choice. We can be reborn or move on.”

“So, this is how you were reborn?”

“No. This is the third path. It is rarely taken because afterward there’s nothing but oblivion.”

“Oblivion?”

“Yes. If you choose to be a haunt, you get to live out the rest of your existence in those that have wronged you.”

“That’s what you want when your mother dies?”

“Yes. Well, and it’s how I learned to live again. Who wants to live an eternity filled with bad memories? Or to come back to this world filled with wretched souls. Also, there’s…” Will trailed off.

“Also, what?” Gerry asked, lighting another cigarette.

“Also, now our souls are tied together. So, when she dies…”

“She goes to oblivion with you,” Gerry said, cutting Will off mid-sentence.

“Yes”

“Why would you do that?”

“It’s my way to take a little suffering out of the world.”

“I see. Why don’t more people do this?”

“The man with many faces said most people are inherently selfish. Well, at least they are when they’re dying. They want to go on living for as long or as many times as possible. They do not care if it continues the cycle of suffering.”

“And you believe that taking your mother’s soul with you will reduce the suffering of the world?”

“No. It is not merely inhabiting her that will do that. That will come from how I’m going to use her.”

“Use her?” Gerry asked nervously.

“Yes, she is my vehicle of wrath.”

“Ohh, I see. I don’t think I can let you do that.”

“YOU HAVE NO POWER OVER ME!! YOU THINK YOU’VE MASTERED THE GURDJIEFF TECHNIQUE!? YOU ARE NOTHING BUT A PRETENDER! YOUR SCIENCE DOESN’T EXIST WHERE I’VE BEEN!”

“Will, you’re right. I apologize.” Gerry said as he cautiously slid himself behind the armrest of the coach.

I must end this. He, she, they are too far gone. With that Gerry brought himself over the armrest, grabbed Louise by the chin, twisting her head to the left and injected her with the Burnham solution. With Louise properly sedated, he walked over to the phone. After two rings, Lorain answered.

“Lorain, Gerry. Bring the gurney, and call Walt.”

“Yes, doctor. Right away, doctor,” Lorain answered sarcastically.

30 minutes later the patient transport arrived. Walt stepped out in his finest Panamanian suit, with the smoke from his pipe billowing out.

“I got another one, Walt,” Gerry said, shaking Walt’s hand.

“It’s a good thing you called. We can’t keep letting these loons run through the street.”

“Oh, no. This one’s no loon. This one is legit. You’re going to have to take her to the Mountain. I’m just glad he hasn’t figured out Parson’s Leap, or the world would be in trouble.”

“Well, don’t worry, we won’t let this one slip out. You know we do a better job than the Vatican ever has.”

“Oh, I know,” Gerry told Walt, as the two watched Louise be loaded into the back of a 1959 Cadillac Miller-Meteor. Gerry then walked back inside the Institute to the front desk. And with an outstretched hand said, “it’s time for me to go home. Barb is waiting for me.”

And with that, Lorain handed Gerry his bag in silence. She could see the man was broken. The man that she had secretly loved for years was walking out on her. Back to his wife he hadn’t touched in more than a decade. What happened in there?

Thank you for reading my work. If you enjoyed this story, there’s more below. Please hit the like and subscribe button, you can follow me on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram, and if you want to help me create more content, please consider leaving a tip or become a pledged subscriber.

More from this author: