know? I don’t belong in here. I
was set up. Somebody drugged me or something. I woke up in
here.”
Oh, my. A fellow traveler as bad off as I. I had a lot of
sympathy for him—till some grinning idiot shrieked,
“Powziffle! Powziffle pheez!” Or something like
that.
The big guy hunched up, stooped, made gurgling noises, and
started running around the ward like a gorilla, howling. His howls
would have chilled the spine of a banshee.
“How are you doing? I’m Ivy.”
The big man’s racket started some other guy screaming. His
cries were a species I’d heard in the islands, coming from a
guy caught out in no-man’s land with a bad gut wound, begging
for somebody to kill him. Soldiers from both sides would have done
so gladly after a while. But nobody was dumb enough to go out there
and let the other side snipe. So we’d all just laid low and
listened, ground our teeth, and maybe thanked our personal gods it
wasn’t us.
I glared at that door. Maybe I could chew my way through.
Or maybe . . . My pockets hadn’t been
cleaned. They must’ve been in an awful hurry to get me put
away. A real bunch of screwup Charlies.
Patients came to check me out—those who still had a foot
in our world. Many were timid as mice. A look sent them scurrying.
Others . . . Some might have been there as
accidentally as I, only instead they belonged in the ward for the
dangerous.
I wished everybody would back off.
Any doubts I had about the irregularity of my commitment
disappeared when I discovered that they hadn’t cleaned my
pockets. Had I been brought in legitimately, all my
possessions would have been taken from me and would never have
surfaced again.
I was encouraged. About a roach-weight worth.
The physical plant wasn’t encouraging. The ward was a
hundred feet wide, three hundred feet long, and two storys high.
There were rows and rows and rows of sleeping pallets but not
nearly enough to go around.
The ceiling was way up there, a good twenty feet. Windows peeked
through the wall opposite the door, way high, too small for a man
to get out even after he cut the bars. I supposed they passed light
during the day. What little light was available now leaked through
windows high on the door side wall, there so the ward could be
observed by hospital staff.
“How are you doing? I’m Ivy.”
“I’m doing just fine, Ivy. What say you and me bust
out of this toilet?”
Ivy looked at me directly, startled, then scampered away.
“
Anybody
want to break out?”
----
----
17
My suggestion drew an underwhelming response. I gathered that
half the patients could not be dragged out and the other half
thought I was crazy. There? Forsooth!
The big man who had cautioned me about Ivy’s lack of
capacity recapacitated himself. He came over. “Ain’t no
way out, Slick. They was, half these guys would be long
gone.”
I glanced around again. The prospects seemed ever less
promising. “They feed us?”
The big guy grinned that grin the old salts put on when they see
a chance to teach a greenhorn. “Twice a day, you’re
hungry or not. Through them bars down there.”
I looked. I shrugged. Them bars was hopeless. “Things are
that bad I might as well get me some shut-eye before I start my
serious worrying.” I looked for an empty pallet. I had some
thinking to do. Especially about why I found myself in such
straits.
I wanted to scream as loud as any of the whacks in there with
me.
“You get in line for a bed,” the big guy cautioned
me. “You make friends, maybe somebody will share. Otherwise,
you just wait till enough guys die to leave you your own.”
His casual manner told me this was one of the capital laws of the
ward. Amazing. You’d expect it to be
total
survival
of the strongest.
“My kind of flophouse.” I settled near the door.
That didn’t seem to be a popular area. Plenty of elbow
room there. I pretended to fall asleep.
There were no corpses in the ward and no smell of death. That
suggested
was set up. Somebody drugged me or something. I woke up in
here.”
Oh, my. A fellow traveler as bad off as I. I had a lot of
sympathy for him—till some grinning idiot shrieked,
“Powziffle! Powziffle pheez!” Or something like
that.
The big guy hunched up, stooped, made gurgling noises, and
started running around the ward like a gorilla, howling. His howls
would have chilled the spine of a banshee.
“How are you doing? I’m Ivy.”
The big man’s racket started some other guy screaming. His
cries were a species I’d heard in the islands, coming from a
guy caught out in no-man’s land with a bad gut wound, begging
for somebody to kill him. Soldiers from both sides would have done
so gladly after a while. But nobody was dumb enough to go out there
and let the other side snipe. So we’d all just laid low and
listened, ground our teeth, and maybe thanked our personal gods it
wasn’t us.
I glared at that door. Maybe I could chew my way through.
Or maybe . . . My pockets hadn’t been
cleaned. They must’ve been in an awful hurry to get me put
away. A real bunch of screwup Charlies.
Patients came to check me out—those who still had a foot
in our world. Many were timid as mice. A look sent them scurrying.
Others . . . Some might have been there as
accidentally as I, only instead they belonged in the ward for the
dangerous.
I wished everybody would back off.
Any doubts I had about the irregularity of my commitment
disappeared when I discovered that they hadn’t cleaned my
pockets. Had I been brought in legitimately, all my
possessions would have been taken from me and would never have
surfaced again.
I was encouraged. About a roach-weight worth.
The physical plant wasn’t encouraging. The ward was a
hundred feet wide, three hundred feet long, and two storys high.
There were rows and rows and rows of sleeping pallets but not
nearly enough to go around.
The ceiling was way up there, a good twenty feet. Windows peeked
through the wall opposite the door, way high, too small for a man
to get out even after he cut the bars. I supposed they passed light
during the day. What little light was available now leaked through
windows high on the door side wall, there so the ward could be
observed by hospital staff.
“How are you doing? I’m Ivy.”
“I’m doing just fine, Ivy. What say you and me bust
out of this toilet?”
Ivy looked at me directly, startled, then scampered away.
“
Anybody
want to break out?”
----
----
17
My suggestion drew an underwhelming response. I gathered that
half the patients could not be dragged out and the other half
thought I was crazy. There? Forsooth!
The big man who had cautioned me about Ivy’s lack of
capacity recapacitated himself. He came over. “Ain’t no
way out, Slick. They was, half these guys would be long
gone.”
I glanced around again. The prospects seemed ever less
promising. “They feed us?”
The big guy grinned that grin the old salts put on when they see
a chance to teach a greenhorn. “Twice a day, you’re
hungry or not. Through them bars down there.”
I looked. I shrugged. Them bars was hopeless. “Things are
that bad I might as well get me some shut-eye before I start my
serious worrying.” I looked for an empty pallet. I had some
thinking to do. Especially about why I found myself in such
straits.
I wanted to scream as loud as any of the whacks in there with
me.
“You get in line for a bed,” the big guy cautioned
me. “You make friends, maybe somebody will share. Otherwise,
you just wait till enough guys die to leave you your own.”
His casual manner told me this was one of the capital laws of the
ward. Amazing. You’d expect it to be
total
survival
of the strongest.
“My kind of flophouse.” I settled near the door.
That didn’t seem to be a popular area. Plenty of elbow
room there. I pretended to fall asleep.
There were no corpses in the ward and no smell of death. That
suggested
Similar Books
