Dzhejms CHejz - The Flesh of the Orchid

Somewhere in the building, above the roar of the wind that rattled doors and windows, a womans scream filtered through padded walls. It was an eerie sound of idiot degeneracy rather than of pain or fear, and it swelled to a muffled crescendo before dying away in a whimper of lunatic self-pity.

A young and attractive-looking nurse, carrying a supper-tray, walked down the broad corridor that ran the length of the building. She paused outside a door, set the tray on a white enamelled table against the wall.

As she did so a squat dark man with two gold teeth came round the bend in the corridor. He grinned cynically when he saw the nurse, but another scream from the woman upstairs twisted the grin into a wry grimace.

That yelling sets my teeth on edge, he said as he came to a slouching halt by the nurse. Id like to give her something to yell about.

Oh, thats number ten, the nurse returned, patted the corn-coloured curls that framed her pretty face under the edge of the stiff white cap she wore. Shes always like this in a storm. Its time they put her in a sound-proof room.

They ought to give her a shot, the squat man said. She gets on my nerves. If Id known it was going to be like this Idve never taken the job.

Dont be so fussy, Joe, the nurse said, and laughed unfeelingly. What do you expect, working in a mental sanatorium?

Not this, Joe said, shaking his head. It gets on my nerves. That screw in number fifteen tried to hook my eyes out this morning. Did you hear about it?

Who didnt? the nurse said, and laughed again. They said you shook like a leaf.

Couldnt think of any other way to get a nip of brandy out of Doc Travers, Joe said with a grin. And the punk fed me salvolatile. He brooded for a moment, went on: And listen to that wind. Its creepy enough here without the wind moaning like a lost soul.

You got that out of a book, the nurse said. I like the sound of the wind.

Then you can have it, Joe said shortly.

The womans screams changed suddenly to clear, high-pitched peals of mirthless laughter, unhysterical and unhurried: a weird, frightening sound against the background of the storm raging outside.

Maybe you like that giggle too? Joe said, his mouth tight, his eyes uneasy.

You get used to it, the nurse said callously. Lunatics are like children: they want to express themselves.

Shes doing fine, then, Joe said. She ought to be proud of herself.

There was a pause, then the nurse asked, Are you going off duty now?

Joe eyed her thoughtfully, a half jeering, half friendly expression on his face.

Is that an invitation? he asked, sidled closer.

The nurse laughed.

Im afraid it isnt, Joe, she said regretfully. Ive eight more suppers to serve. I wont be through for another hour.

Oh, the hell with that! Joe said. Im going to bed. Sams turned in already. Weve gotta be up at four. Besides, I dont want to listen to that nut sounding off. Ive had enough of her.

All right, go to bed, the nurse said, tossing her head. Im not hard up for company. Dr. Travers wants me to play gin-rummy with him.

Joe sneered.

Thats about his top ambition. You wont learn anything fresh from Doc Travers.

I know that... Dr. Travers isnt fresh like you, Joe.

Joe sniffed, eyed the supper-tray on the table.

They feed em good, dont they? he said, took a stick of celery from the glass holder on the tray. Before I came here I thought they shovelled raw meat at em through iron bars. He bit into the celery, chewed.

You leave my patients supper alone, the nurse said indignantly. Where are your manners? You cant do that sort of thing here.

Ive already done it, Joe said with simple truth, and it cats swell. Besides, she wont miss a bite of celery with all that dough to keep her warm.

Oh, so youve heard about that, have you?

Joe leered.

I dont miss much. I had my ear clamped to the keyhole when Doc Travers was shooting his mouth off on the phone. Six million bucks. Thats what Blandish left her, aint it? He pursed his lips into a soundless whistle. Think of it! Six million bucks!

The nurse sighed. Shed been thinking about it all day.

Well, some people have all the luck, she said, leaned against the wall and studied Joe with an appreciative eye. She thought he had attractive ways.

Whats she like? Joe asked, waving the celery stalk at the door. Ive heard things about her. Sam says shes juicy. Is she?

Ive seen worse, the nurse said noncommittally. But shes not your style, Joe.

Thats what you think, Joe said, grinning. With six million bucks as a sweetener Mrs. Astors horse would be my style. Id marry that dame tomorrow if shed let me dip into her purse. Maybe you could talk her into the idea.

You wouldnt like her for a wife, Joe, the nurse said, and giggled. Youd be scared to close your eyes. She has homicidal tendencies.

If shes as good as Sam says I wouldnt want to close my eyes, Joe returned. Besides, Id take my chance for all that dough. I guess I could handle her at that. I gotta hypnotic eye. He patted the nurses flank. Ill hypnotize you one of these days.

I dont have to be hypnotized, the nurse said, laughing. You know that, Joe.

Yeah, thats right, Joe said.

The nurse picked up the tray.

Ill have to get on. Shant I see you tonight? She looked archly at him. Are you really going to waste time in bed?

Joe eyed her over.

O.K. Eight oclock, then, he said. But dont keep me waiting. We can go to the garage and sit in a car. If we dont do anything else, I can learn you to drive. He closed a jeering eye. More useful than playing gin-rummy. He went off along the corridor, a shambling, squat figure, wrapped up in himself, indifferent to his conquest.

The nurse looked after him, sighed, as she fumbled for the key that hung from a thin chain at her waist. The woman on the second floor began to scream again. She seemed to have found a new source of inspiration, for her screams rang out high above the noise of the rain as it lashed against the stucco walls of the asylum. The wind, dying before a fresh blast, moaned in the chimney-stacks. A door slammed violently somewhere at the back of the building.

Unlocking the door, the nurse entered a plainly furnished room. There was a steel table by the window, an armchair facing the door. Both pieces of furniture were bolted to the floor. High up in the ceiling was an unshaded lamp, guarded by a wire basket. The walls of the room, a soft shade of blue, were quilted; padded and thick. By the wall, away from the door, was a bed, and in the bed was the outline of a woman, apparently asleep.

The nurse, a little absent-minded, her thoughts on Joe, set the tray on the table and crossed over to the bed.

Wake up, she said briskly. You shouldnt be asleep at this time. Come along, Ive brought your supper.

There was no movement from the form under the blanket, and the nurse frowned, uneasy suddenly for no reason at all.

Wake up! she repeated sharply, prodded the form. As her fingers sank into the pillowy softness she realized that this was no human form she was touching. She felt a prickle of alarm run through her as she snatched back the blanket. Her eyes had scarcely time to register the pillow and the rolled blanket where her patient should have been when steel fingers coming from under the bed closed round her ankles, wrenched them up and forward.

Terror choked the scream that rose in her throat as she felt herself falling. For what seemed a long moment of time she struggled frantically to regain her balance, then she crashed over backwards, her head and shoulders meeting the carpeted floor with a violence that turned her sick and faint. She lay there for a moment too stunned to move, then the realization that she was helpless and alone with a dangerous lunatic made her straggle desperately to get to her feet. She was dimly aware that a shadowy figure was standing over her and she gave a thin wail of terror as her muscles refused to respond. Then the tray with its contents of crockery and food smashed down on her upturned face.