The leaves along the empty, deserted street started to swirl as if the wind picked up. Energy crackled. Bits of energy jumped from leaf to leaf. In a rush of air, the speedster appeared carrying Sally in his arms.
The speedster wore a rainbow vest, white shirt, and red bowtie. On the back of his vest was a water pitcher; the pitcher appeared to pour out the rainbow that formed the vest’s color. On his head was a winged newsboy cap and on his feet were winged sneakers. This was the uniform of the Rainbow Riders; a ride share business owned by Iris—the Greek goddess of messages and rainbows. Rainbow Riders employed many transbeings, like speedsters.
He sat Sally down as the last of the crackling energy faded.
“Thanks for the ride, Tony,” Sally said, brushing a few blonde strands of hair that became messy during transit.
“No, thank you, Miss Pine. Everyone loves you at the office. They love sharing your kind reviews on YIP. And then there’s your tips.” Sally blushed; Tony tipped his hat. “Have a nice day, Miss Pine.” He vanished in a burst of energy.
Sally turned towards her destination: Downfeather Asylum. Lightning flashed behind the old gothic-like building. The large, unfriendly gate rattled in the wind. The dead trees swayed, sounding like the moans of lost souls.
Sally shivered. “Why does it do that every time I come here?”
She pressed the button on the gate’s intercom. A voice, worse than any fast-food drive-thru, spoke in crackled speech. Sally introduced herself and her reason for being there. The gate creaked open. Another chill blew through the air.
***
The inside of the asylum looked like it hadn’t been remodeled since the 1920s. The place was lit more by candles than lights. The yellowed wallpaper peeled. The air smelled of moist mold. What few lights there were hummed and flickered. Oppressive portraits hung on the walls. The eyes followed you.
Sally’s guide, a man who looked like he should be a patient or maybe an actor from an old horror film, raised his lantern towards a door. “Through here, Miss Pine.”
Sally shoved open the large, heavy door. She momentarily shielded her eyes from the bright light. Loud, playful music met her ears before her eyes fully adjusted. She entered a brighter, more modern room. The asylum’s recreation room looked more like a kid’s play place than a hospital area. People watched shows, read, chatted with each other, played board games, exercised, or napped.
Duck humanoids in nurse’s scrubs attended the patients. Most of the hospital’s staff consisted of duck-human transbeings. For some reason, the asylum drew in these duck-folk. Some humans, like the guide and the one Sally was meeting, worked here too.
“Sally!” said a cheerful voice.
A female slightly older than Sally, probably 21, greeted Sally with open arms. The two embraced in a quick, socially acceptable hug.
“It’s been ages,” said the older girl. “How have you been?”
“Great,” said Sally. She wanted to get right to the point of the meeting and disperse with the small talk. “Why did you contact me, Jennifer?”
“Right, right,” said Jennifer. “Let me show you around.”
Jennifer led Sally out of the rec room. The pair entered another long hallway. The asylum’s architect created a wild maze using the hallways and rooms. It was said that he created it that way so the asylum ghosts couldn’t escape. It also kept the patients from escaping. On a side note, the architect was one of the first guests. For the rest of his life, he shouted that the patients’ mental demons haunted him.
“You remember David’s talent show?” Jennifer said as the pair passed a familiar painting and stand. Sally was sure they’d passed that stand three times already.
Sally nodded. “He hypnotized most of the class into following the Masters of the Dark Arts. The volunteers acted as sleepers until activated. Some of the volunteers were transported through time.”
Jennifer stopped long enough to perform a small spin. “Which is why I’m older than you even though we were classmates.”
The two continued their walk. Sally continued. “Dogboy and some of the other victims traveled back in time and stopped David. He got away though. Many of the volunteers still decided to go through time to preserve the continuum.”
Jennifer stopped again to make a cheerful pose. “Like me.”
Sally wondered if Jennifer spent too much time with the patients.
The ladies stopped outside an iron door.
“What do you know of paradoxes?” Jennifer asked.
“I know that events, much like people, can’t be fully erased. On some level, people remember. Events will echo through the new timeline. It’s where déjà vu and the Mandela effect come from.”
“Couldn’t have said it better myself.” Jennifer pulled the door open with a big grunt. “And that’s why this place was created.”
Transparent rooms filled the new asylum wing. People of every race and age resided in the rooms. The set-up briefly reminded Sally of a zoo.
Jennifer made a sweeping motion with her hand. “This is the dark side to time travel. Those time paradoxes…These people are trapped in a state of hypnosis.”
Sally saw a young man on all fours barking. Another male, about Sally’s age, strutted the length of the room like a female runway model. He would pause now and then to make feminine poses. In another room, a woman sang into a pretend microphone; she thought she was Erin Rush.
Sally jumped back when a patient near her slammed their fists on the transparent wall yelling, “Who stole my belly button?!”
In another room, three people walked around the room like fish swimming in a tank.
“Our current theory,” said Jennifer, “is that their subconscious minds remember the talent show while their conscious minds don’t. It is creating a dissonance that resulted in their current state.”
Jennifer glanced at Sally in an almost “mansplaining” way. “They’re stuck between mental realities.”
“Do they…?”
“Yes. They still eat and sleep. Self-preservation is stronger than hypnosis. It is one of the few times they are lucid. We’ve almost managed to temporarily wake them up by making them feel like they’re falling. Snapping our fingers or counting down can sometimes work.”
Jennifer sighed heavily. Sally could almost feel weight added to the room. “But it only lasts a few minutes at best. They eventually re-enter their trance.”
Sally pointed to an older teenage boy sitting in a chair staring straight ahead. He did not blink. “What about him?”
“He is almost awake. He responds to our questions and acts as if he is here in the present; however, when we aren’t interacting with him, he sits like that, in a trance.”
“Freaky,” said Sally.
The pair walked through the maze of hypnotic statues, chicken-people, people dancing ballet, and people comically speaking other languages.
A young man with a blonde mullet and a neon pink, torn-sleeve shirt jumped out of nowhere and pounded on the transparent wall. “Do you know who I am?! What am I doing here? Where am I? I don’t remember anything from before waking up here!”
Jennifer led Sally away by gripping her shoulders. “No matter how many times we tell him his name is Samuel, he never remembers it.”
“I’m still not clear on why you called me,” Sally said. “I don’t think I can help them anymore than you can.”
“I saw the documentary about Jordan and Michael last week. I recognized them from the talent show. They were victims of David.”
Sally came to a full stop. “What?”
“I checked our records. Michael was a patient; he was one of the lucky ones. He arrived thinking he was part of the boy band Kitchen Sink. For some reason, he reacted to suggestions. Most here are stuck in one suggestion, but Michael could switch. Finally, the doctors at that time realized they could ‘hypnotize’ him into believing he was awake.”
“That’s wonderful,” said Sally. “But I still don’t—”
“I decided to check on the others who went back in time. Many of them went missing. However, no one really seemed to look long for them. The trail went cold, and they became just another statistic.”
Sally took a step forward. “You mean someone is abducting David’s victims?”
“Not just any victims,” said Jennifer. “The stars. The really sensitive ones. Michael, as we observed, was highly receptive to suggestions. Just before he was released, someone accidently called him a pig.”
Sally covered her mouth. “Oh no.”
Jennifer nodded. “He ran around the place oinking until a nurse told him to wake up and not to follow anymore suggestions. I worry that whoever took him doesn’t know that suggestion; they might…hurt him if he is unresponsive.” Jennifer looked like she was about to cry. “Or maybe torture him until he obeyed.”
Sally tapped her chin. “Someone wants the super-responsive. Why?” she half-muttered to herself.
“It wasn’t until a recent event that I decided to call.” Jennifer pointed to a room where a 16-year-old stood with his back to Sally and Jennifer. “When he arrived, he said his name was Jeffery, but it is Cory. He believes he swapped bodies with Jeffery.”
Jennifer met Sally’s eyes for a moment. “Jeffery is the one from before who stares without blinking. Then one day—”
“Well, well, well,” said a smooth, relaxing voice. Sally recognized it immediately, even slightly distorted by Cory’s real voice. It still carried that same Mexican-Louisianan accent. “I was hoping you’d pay me a visit, Miss Pine.”
Sally resisted the shiver moving down her spine as Cory’s face twisted into a mask of jealousy and hatred. His eyes looked hallow, and his lips curled into an evil grin.
“David,” Sally said, trying to put as much calm confidence into her voice as possible. “We defeated you.”
“Don’t you know by now.” He took a step forward. “I always come back.” Mystical green flames flared around his arms for a moment then faded.
“Why are you abducting people?” she asked.
The necromancer voodoo priest laughed. It sounded as hallow as his eyes. “Why would I be behind this?” He motioned to the walls of the room with a broad wave of his arm. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Hasn’t stopped you before,” said Sally. “You’re already controlling Cory; who’s to say you don’t have someone else.”
David chuckled again. The green flames pulsed along his arms in time to his laughter. Sally saw his sugar skull-like head flicker in and out. “You always were too smart for your own good. So, yes, Miss Pine, there are others, but I have bigger plans than this…childish prank.”
The flames spread across Cory’s body. His clothes transformed into David’s Day of the Dead costume. He wore a slick black business suit with a mariachi band hat, but the suit and hat were covered with Day of the Dead designs.
David raised his arms. The other patients, except Jeffery—who remained in a trance-like state, stopped what they were doing and turned to David. They knew who their master was.
The patients started beating or clawing at the walls. The sound grew louder and more desperate as David continued to smile. Some punched or kicked at the walls.
“Stop it!” cried Sally. “Leave them alone!”
David’s lip curled higher. It was impossible to tell if it was a sneer or the smile of a stalker. “Anything for you, Miss Pine.”
The patients froze for a moment than returned to their normal hypnotic suggestions.
David bowed. “I’ll be seeing you.” He gave Sally a wink. The green flames pulled away from Cory’s body like a vacuum sucking up dust. As the flames vanished, so did David’s appearance. Once the last of the flames departed, and Cory returned to normal, his head dropped to his chest, but he remained on his feet. A second later, he raised his head and met Sally’s eyes.
“Sally Pine,” he said, “you’re friends with Dogboy. Maybe you can help! I somehow swapped bodies with Cory. I’m really Jeffery.” He nodded his head towards the near comatose Jeffery. “That may look like me, but it’s Cory. I’m Jeffery!”
Sally put a reassuring hand on the transparent wall. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you,” he whispered.
Joe Rover 