Unearthed (381 hits)
Category: UberMadness! EntryRating: 2 on 1 review (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Brandon Fabish <brandino_the_great.at.yahoo.com> (View user info) at 2004-10-11 22:58:02 EDT
This post was an official UberMadness! entry. Click here to view the original matchup.
Screams of anguish and infinite fear sprang from the ground, forcing the old man to jump backwards in alarm. As he drew near he could hear thumping below but soon the thuds quieted and he was nestled on the ground in complete silence. He peered through the small hole and down below but all he could see was complete darkness, just like the last time he looked. His breath was heavy and he shuddered as the cool fall air swept around him and the leaves were tossed into the air. He opened up his jacket and from it he took out a small parcel which he carefully placed on the ground. Beneath him, he could hear the boy whimpering as tears were blotting up in his eyes. Every time he came to feed the boy, the old man thought, he had to get emotional. Well, he should have thought of the consequences.
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"Dr. Steng to Room 16, please. Dr. Steng to Room 16."
The speaker hummed for a few seconds after the announcement and then it clicked off. Dr. Steng got up from his chair and strolled down the hallway towards Room 16, while looking through charts and files. As he approached the door he reached for the doorknob but before he could turn it another hand fell on top of it.
"Dr. Steng could I have a word with you before you go in? It's about the patient."
"Sure thing, Francine. What is it?"
"Well, he was just admitted a few days ago, as you know already, but he doesn't show any real signs of being psychotic or insane. I know you've told me it takes time for these things to develop and for a pattern to form but I'm not sure if he's going to show symptoms that we're trained to look for."
"I can assure you Francine that I'll do the best I can to help out and not to worry. I've dealt with people that many said were perfectly normal and I've yet to misdiagnose a patient yet."
"If you say so, doctor. Oh, be sure to read the file on him; I'm sure you'll be interested in what it has to say."
"I'm nearly finished with it. Thanks again, Francine."
Francine was fingering a button on her lab jacket as she walked away. It was something Dr. Steng noticed right when she began speaking to him. He could tell she was nervous about this patient, which was a rare attribute for her to have considering her calm and professional demeanor.
He opened the door and took a clipboard from a slot on the inside of the room just left of the door and replaced it with the folder he had been holding. He grabbed a chair sitting next to a table towards his right and placed it opposite the bed, where the patient was.
Hello...David, my name is Doctor Robert Steng. It says here you admitted yourself a couple of days ago. You haven't spoke much since you've been here, is there a problem?
David slid over to the edge of the bed letting his bare feet touch the cold tile floor. He rubbed his eyes and stared up at the fluorescent lighting then blinked a few times. He then slowly lowered his head to stare at Doctor Steng.
"David, you've been here for nearly three days now and you haven't said a word since you've been in this room. Is there a reason why you admitted yourself? At first it seemed as if you wanted to help yourself, but you know just as well as I do that nobody can help you if you won't allow us to."
For a second it looked as if David was going to say something, but then he closed his mouth and scratched the back of his neck. He started shaking his head back and forth signifying to Dr. Steng that he wasn't going to say anything. The doctor took a couple of notes and then got up, replacing the chair, and left the room remembering to take the folder on the way out.
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1987, June 06
I just turned thirteen today and for my birthday my Aunt Gertrude gave me this journal. I thought it was stupid at first but now I want to chronicle all of the events that happen in my life. Last week I wanted to make a time capsule and bury it, but I'm not sure where. I want to put it where someone might find it, but I want to make sure they don't find it for a long time. I'm not quite sure what I'm going to put in it, but I do know that my journal will be in it, that way when I die I'll be remembered, at least in spirit.
-Dave
1987, June 09
Eureka! I know exactly where I'm going to place my time capsule, but I have to be careful that no one catches me doing it. I figure if I bury it in the graveyard just outside of town, someone is bound to find it. But I'll need to make sure that I don't stick it in a row of graves that have yet to be plotted, otherwise I'll still be alive when it's found and my plan will be ruined.
- Dave
1987, August 29
I've already gathered a bunch of stuff that I'm going to put in it, but I'll probably have to leave a lot of it out because not everything is going to fit. I found an old tennis ball container in the garage, which I figure will be perfect to protect it from the dirt and rain. Yesterday when I was looking around the graveyard I saw Mr. Hinksley digging two graves. I think there is going to be a funeral set for tomorrow so I'm going to bury my capsule later than night. Usually Mr. Hinksley waits until next morning to bury the casket, so tomorrow night should be an excellent time.
(Later) I've written in this journal every day since I got it, and it's got a lot of secrets about me and my life. And also about a lot of other things. I hope everything I've included in my capsule will interest people when they find it, and I hope they remember me. My last entry will be right before I bury the time capsule at 11:00 pm on Saturday, August 29 of 1987.
- Dave
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It was nighttime now and as just like the last two nights of being inside the asylum, David walked over to the desk and sat down. On the desk was a pencil and a piece of paper that had been replaced each morning when a nurse came in to check on him. He grabbed the pencil and started to write on the sheet of paper, but after making halfway down the page he crumpled up the paper and threw it against the wall.
His mind was blazing with thoughts that he didn't want to let escape his mind. In his head lied not only his sanity but also his past. It was true what Dr. Steng had told him that afternoon, but he couldn't allow himself to tell anybody what he knew despite how much he wanted to. Inside here he was safe and he knew that, but he also knew that he just wasn't safe enough.
David walked over to the other side of the room where the piece of paper was and took it back to the desk where he sat down to reread what he'd written. No, he couldn't let anybody see this. For the third night in a row he slowly tore the paper into little bits of confetti and ate each piece until it was completely gone. It was the only way to ensure that no one would ever see what he'd written. He knew it would be easier if he just didn't write anything at all, but with the option available he just couldn't withstand not to take the opportunity to do so, which in the end was futile anyway because he'd rather submit to writing on the paper and eating it then struggling with himself or even worse, allowing someone to see what he'd written.
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David made a quick pass by the cemetery to make sure no one was there, and just as he'd suspected, Mr. Hinksley's truck was nowhere in sight. He doubled back and made his way up the road to the main gate, where he tucked the capsule securely in his coat pocket and climbed over the fence. David headed towards the back corner of the graveyard where the earliest headstone read 1804. He tried to read the name on it but the once embossed letters had withered away to nothing.
He got out his capsule and his handheld garden shovel and set them down by his feet. He kneeled down and got out his pencil where he was scribbling his last journal entry before placing it in his capsule and burying it. In the distance he heard a scraping sound followed by the plop of sod. He looked back towards the main gate and noticed a truck parked down by the front fence.
He cursed his idiocy for not double checking to make sure nobody was here. He didn't recognize the truck in the dark, but after scanning the area David saw two men on the other side of the graveyard digging. From what he could see it looked like they were right next to the newly dug graves that had been used earlier that day for the funeral.
All of the sudden he heard one of the men shout something. The other was ecstatic and they both were chanting for each other to shut up or else someone will hear them. David assumed they were grave robbers, and that he wasn't in any immediate danger unless he do something to get their attention. As they were busy with their new claim, David decided to slowly get to his from his belly and onto his knees so he could put his journal in the capsule and bury it.
The last pile of dirt had been placed when the clouds started to dissipate from the dark sky. David glanced up and saw that the two men had just finished reburying the grave they had just robbed when he heard them starting to talk again.
It started as a low whisper and then elevated to a hiss until David saw one of the men hit the other in the head with a shovel. He screamed in horror as he witnessed the act and he quickly fell back to the ground not making another sound. He crawled on his stomach towards a tree in order to use it for cover, so he could see what was happening now.
David waited until he heard the sound of digging again until he glanced back up. He saw the one of the men was digging up the grave they had just robbed and was placing the other guy in it. Then the man kicked the other guy in the side and he toppled into the grave, never to be seen again. David looked on with his mouth open, his eyes were wide open, awestruck. In his hand was his hand shovel that he used to bury his time capsule.
The man finished up his business and picked up a small container along with his shovel and started to head back towards his truck. David moved a little bit and the man heard the rustle in the distance. He looked up and noticed something shimmering in the darkness.
David saw the man look directly at him and realized that the moon was reflecting off of his shovel. He put it in his coat pocket and tucked himself tightly against the tree. The man tilted his head and ran straight in his direction. David's heart was pounding in his chest and he thought it was going to explode. He started panting, and when he realized he had no other option he got up and started running.
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"Dr. Steng to Room 16, this is an emergency."
No rest for the overworked, thought Dr. Robert Steng as he got up from his chair and meandered down the hallway towards the elevator. As he got on he heard the intercom repeat the message and he pushed the button to take him to the first floor. It was 7:00 am and patients weren't usually told to get up until 8 o' clock, so the doctor's interest was peeked.
Just as the elevator doors opened he was greeted by Nurse Francine and she looked incredibly worried.
"What's the matter, Francine?" Dr. Steng asked.
"Something's wrong with David. I know I told you yesterday that he didn't seem crazy, especially since he entered himself into the asylum, but this morning we found him asleep with blood all over the sheets. Nurse Redding has already been in there and she said he's in good condition but we thought it best if we called you down here anyway, seeing as he is your patient."
Doctor Steng had made his way to the door by this time and thanked Francine for all of her help and walked into the room. In front of him lie David who was still quite conscious and propped up in his bed, with an IV drip inserted in his arm and various other machines monitoring him.
"David, what on earth happened to you?"
David raised his hands up into the air to reveal five pairs of mutilated fingers. After he had finished eating his revealing statement the previous night, David had decided that to ensure his well-being he would have to do something to make sure he wouldn't write anymore. A permanent solution to a temporary problem was to chew his fingers until there was nothing left anymore, because if he couldn't hold a pencil he couldn't write so he broke his thumbs and chewed his fingers down to the bone on both of his hands.
"Jesus, what a mess. Why would you do such a thing, David?"
David started to open his mouth and an audible sound was made, but the only result was sort of a grunt. Deep down Dr. Steng thought he was making progress, and he knew that David wasn't actually insane, but there still remained the fact of finding out what was wrong with him. A nurse entered the room and Doctor Steng told her to keep an eye on David and to attend to his wounds, then he left. On his way out he noticed that the paper on the table was missing.
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No! God no! Please let me out. I didn't see anything I promise. I won't tell anyone. Please just don't do this. Please!
The screams were echoing six feet above David as a tube was being secured snuggly into the coffin. The man was placing dirt into the grave as the lid to the casket was being pounded on. The man knew that at this rate the boy's throat would be rubbed raw by morning and that no body visited this part of the graveyard anyway, so he'd never be found.
His intention wasn't to kill David, if it were he could've done that a lot sooner, but instead he was going to keep him alive. Of course he wouldn't let the boy know that, so he'd starve him for the first four days and then when the boy least suspected it, the man would give him a little bit of bread, just enough to keep him alive. He'd do this for as long as he lived. He knew David was a nice kid, that's why he didn't kill him, but he wasn't going to go to jail, so to relieve his conscience of both thoughts, he'd just ensure that neither would happen.
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Dr. Steng was in his office talking to Francine about David, trying to learn as much about him as possible. He was completely enveloped in David's suspicious behavior and wanted to know the cause of not only that, but also why David was here in the first place.
"It says here that he is seventeen years old. Now do we know his last name?"
"No," Francine said. "He wouldn't tell us that; all he told us was his name and age, and then he said that if we didn't let him in he'd die. The secretary at the front desk asked him what he meant, and he looked back towards the entrance and then grabbed a pen off the counter and said he'd stab himself in the eye."
"So do you think that was his ploy to act as an insane person?"
"Possibly. Like I've said before, I don't think he's crazy, even if he did chew his fingers raw. I just think he's using us and this asylum to protect him from something."
"Well, whatever it is he won't tell us, and he's doing whatever he can to fight against his own will to make sure we don't find out. I want you to keep an eye on him tonight to make sure he doesn't do something drastic like chew his tongue off."
"Sure thing, doctor."
Francine got up and left Robert's office, leaving him to his own thoughts. The doctor mulled over David's file trying to figure out the loose ends. So all he said was his name and age, but nothing else. We don't know where he came from, although the closest place is thirty miles east, so we can assume he was brought here. Unless he walked all the way here, which is a possibility since he seems dreadfully afraid of something...or someone.
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While Nurse Francine was on watch duty she noticed that David kept staring out of his window. She hadn't paid much attention before so she wasn't sure if it was something he always did, or if he had just started doing it because she was watching him. Either way, she was curious as to why he was still up at 1:34 am. From the reports she'd read earlier that evening David usually went to bed at a reasonable hour and without any medication whatsoever.
It was windy out and there was a constant tapping on the glass window. The radio called for light showers with a possible thunderstorm forming early in the morning, but other then that nothing exciting was going to happen. Francine went back to reading her book, glancing up at David every page or two to make sure he was behaving properly.
The rain had started coming down now with sparse thunder every few minutes. As David turned his head to lay back down in bed another blast of thunder roared and a flash of lightening followed in suit. Out of the corner of his eye David noticed the silhouette of a face.
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How long had it been? A year now, maybe three? It could have only been a couple of weeks but David knew it had to have been at least a year since he last saw the world. Throughout his time in the coffin David had stopped trying to find help, because he knew just as well as the man who buried him that no one would find him.
He had slowly been trying to pry the lid open, which he had succeed in doing. The coffin lid wasn't the only thing that separated him from freedom, though, and David knew it. If he were to shove the lid off he would be surrounded by dirt, and he would undoubtedly die, so he left it suspended by nails, which it had been for months, until he thought of a way out.
He could hear the man coming now so he worked up his tears like usual, just because by now that was the routine, and he started pleading for help, whining to be let out. The man knelt down and told him to be quiet, then he dropped little bits of roast beef down the tube for David to eat. He asked David if he wanted anything to drink, and David told him he wanted a milkshake, which made the man laugh.
Just like David's crying, the man had a routine also. He would always try to look into the tube after feeding David. For what reason, David could never figure out, but over the last week he'd worked the tube loose enough to where it could be pushed up and down with fluid ease.
He heard the man grunt and kneel down onto his knees. David grabbed the end of the tube and pulled it towards him as far as he could, then he slammed the tube into the mans face with all the strength he had. He pulled back and pushed up hard again, and again, and again until he heard the man fall into a heap on the ground.
For the first time David felt somewhat safe. He tried to rollover onto his stomach but something jabbed into his side. He had completely forgotten about the shovel. How could he have been in this coffin for over a year and forget about the one device that could dig him out of here, he thought. Nevertheless, with this tool now in his hand, David kicked the lid until it slowly slid off the coffin and he proceeded to dig his way out.
With his last breath of air he took a huge gulp and started punching towards the surface with the shovel in his hand. Much like a swimmer, he would thrust upwards and then push the dirt away from him towards his sides until at last he was near the surface. Whenever he had to breathe he would tuck his nose into his coat and breathe the air through it in order to act as a filter to insure that very little dirt got inhaled.
Nearly exhausted, David found the surface and it took all of his might to pull himself out of the ground. His mind raced with where he should go. He looked up towards the street and saw a white bus go by with the words Hampsville Lunatic Asylum painted on the side. He looked at the man on the ground and stabbed him in the face with the shovel, then stumbled over to where his time capsule was placed and dug it up.
Inside he found the pencil he left and wrote everything that had happened. He then reburied it, jamming the small hand shovel into the ground until the handle was just barely visible, and took off through the empty cornfield towards the Hampsville Lunatic Asylum.
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It was near 4:00 am and the thunderstorm was over by now and a light rain drizzled down. Francine was still watching David, who was asleep on his bed. She glanced at her watch and got up to get another cup of coffee when she heard David mumbling in his sleep. She got closer to the door and opened it just a little bit in order to hear what he was saying. His sentences were fragmented and nonsensical, and most of his words were slurred.
I won't tell anybody, she heard David mumble, tossing from side to side. No, don't bury me, I didn't see anything. Right before David fell silent, Francine heard him mention something about a graveyard or a tree and then he screamed himself awake.
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David had only been up for a few minutes when Nurse Redding came in and told him he had a visitor. Francine was in Dr. Steng's office and they were discussing what she had heard the night before. Nurse Redding was never told by the doctor not to allow visitors, and besides, she thought, maybe he could help tell them some information.
As it turned out, it was David's grandfather and he had come to take David home. Without a fuss David went with the old man, not saying a word, but tears were rolling down his face. Thirty minutes after they left Dr. Steng and Francine came down to talk to David but he was gone.
"Where the hell is he?" Doctor Steng boomed.
"He left with his grandfather. I'm sorry, you never told me his condition, and I thought..." Nurse Redding burst into tears and fell into a chair.
"No worries," replied Dr. Steng, "you're right it wasn't your fault; I should have told you. Francine, let's get the hell out of here before it's too late."
He grabbed Francine's hand and they went out into the parking lot and got into his car. Doctor Robert Steng shifted it into gear and tore down the road throwing up loose gravel and dirt behind him.
"Do you think he'll be there?" Francine asked.
"We'll just have to wait and see. If he's not there then he is as good as dead. Let us pray we're not too late."
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The old man wiped his face with his jacket and told David to get on his knees and turn away from him. David did as he was told screaming in vain.
"Things didn't have to be this way David. You shouldn't have been in the graveyard that night and you know it. Now look at what you've made me do. If you would've just stayed in that coffin you could've lived until I died."
"I'm sorry Mr. Hinksley. I'm sorry..." David bowed his head and sobbed, the tears were streaming down his cheeks.
Mr. Hinksley hit David in the back of the head with the butt of his shovel, knocking him out cold. He then started to dig up the grave again. He picked up the tube and threw it aside, not needing it this time. Seven minutes later the job was done. This time Mr. Hinksley was sure that he'd finish David off for good, leaving him and his past behind.
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It was midmorning now and the birds were singing their songs and whistling their tunes. Dr. Steng and Francine had just pulled into the cemetery lot and were running back and forth to trees staring at the ground.
"Are you sure he said tree, Francine?"
"Yes, Robert. This is the closest graveyard within a hundred miles and he mumbled the word tree."
They were frantically looking for a sign of anything in order to grab their attention. Dr. Steng walked a circle around a tree and started to double back when he tripped over something. He called Francine over and it took both of them to try and pry the garden shovel out the ground. Dr. Steng stabbed at the spot it had just been in and he heard it hit something.
They both dug at the ground in a frenzy to see what was buried. Within minutes they found the capsule and read the journal. When they got to the last entry they were appalled at what they had just read and Dr. Steng glanced up and noticed the loose ground. They rushed over to where David had been buried and Dr. Steng gave Francine the shovel to dig with as he started tearing the loosely packed dirt away with his bare hands.
When they reached the lid of the coffin, Dr. Steng used the hand shovel to pry it off. When they glanced inside, David wasn't there.
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