The Barrens & Others by F. Paul Wilson Read Free Book Online

me hungry, too. But then the mother came and fed them and now their bellies are full and they're content"... he began to sob... "and so am I and I just want to stay here near them where it's quiet and peaceful."
    She heard the lieutenant growl. "All right. That does it!"
    He stood up and signaled to shore. Another larger boat roared out from the marina. There were men in white jackets aboard, and they were carrying something that looked like a net.
    *
    "He'll be asleep for awhile yet, Mrs. Chambers," said Dr. Gold. "We had to inject him with a pretty stiff dose of Thorazine to quiet him down."
    It had been horrifying to watch them throw a net over her own brother and haul him into the bigger boat like a giant fish, but there had been no other way. Howard would have died out on the water if they had left him there.
    She had spent most of the morning signing papers and answering countless questions on Howard's medical and emotional history, family history, current stresses and strains. She had told Dr. Gold everything, including Howard's receiving the hand in the mail two days ago. God, was it only two days ago? Everything...except the part about feeling the pain and emotions of other people...and animals and even insects. She couldn't bring herself to risk trying to explain that to Dr. Gold. He might think she was sharing her brother's psychosis.
    "When can he leave?" she asked.
    "Not for twenty-eight days at least. That's how long he's committed. Don't worry too much. This appears to be an acute psychosis precipitated by that grisly incident with the severed hand. We'll start his psychotherapy immediately, find an appropriate medication, and do what we can to get him on his psychological feet again as soon as possible. I think he'll do just fine."
    Lydia wasn't too sure of that, but all she could do was hope. At least the Monroe Neuropsychiatric Institute was brand new. It had opened only last winter. She had heard about it, but since she never came to this part of town, she hadn't seen it until now. It seemed pleasant enough. And since most of the patients here were probably sedated to some degree, their emotions wouldn't be too strong. Maybe Howard had a chance here.
    Dr. Gold walked her to the door.
    "In a way it's sort of ironic that your brother should wind up here."
    "Why is that?"
    "Well, he's one of the limited partners that developed this little hospital. All of the limited partners got a certified historic rehabilitation tax credit for investing, one of the few goodies remaining after tax overhaul."
    "Rehabilitation?" A warning bell sounded in a far corner of her mind. "You mean it isn't a new building?"
    "Oh, my goodness, no. We've cleaned it up to look spanking new, but in reality it's a hundred and fifty years old."
    "A hundred and fifty–!"
    "Yes. It was abandoned for such a long time. I understand it was being used for dogfights before we took it over. Even used it as a place to train young fighting pit bulls. Trained them with kittens. A sick, sick–" He stared at her. "Are you all right?"
    "Dog fights?" Oh, God, what would that do to Howard? Wouldn't the residual from something like that send him right up the wall?
    "I'm sorry if I upset you."
    "I'm okay," she said, steeling herself to ask the next question. "What was the building originally?"
    "Originally? Why I thought everybody knew that, but I guess you're too young to remember. Up until the early 1960s it was the Monroe Slaughterhouse. One of the busiest in the–"
    He stopped as the sound came down the hall – a long, hoarse, agonized scream that echoed off the freshly painted walls and tore into Lydia's soul.
    Howard was awake.
     
    foreword to "Tenants"
    The idea for "Tenants" had been wandering through the back of my mind for years. A simple little story about an escaped killer who thinks he's found the perfect hideout from the law in a remote house at the end of a road through a salt marsh. The old coot who lives there is crazy: He keeps talking