The Book: Chapter 38

She was locked in a cubicle in the staff bathroom. Time was irrelevant, but she’d been there a while, listening to the dull hum of the madness outside. In the aftermath of the electrical emergency, she was quiet while the world around her assessed the damage.

Alice clutched the book against her chest with her fingers curled so tightly around it that her nails bit into her palms. It was with her everywhere now, the way other people carry their phones—an extension of her. It was a soul-stealer burrowing so deep into her psyche that separation seemed impossible. She barely noticed the stares. Let them look and whisper their spiteful gossip.

Human beings love to kick one of their own when they’re down.

‘That’s not true. They’re concerned about me.’

Mara knew the truth, but she had fled to her church, seeking salvation. Alice heard through the gossip line that the priest had told her to renounce all evil and trust in the Lord. A staunch gospel Christian, Mara donated to the church roof fund and kept a vial of holy water in her uniform pocket—as Alice carried her book. We need our crutches. Mara had been her friend. At least, Alice had always thought so—but now the other woman was scared of her. She saw it in her eyes every time Mara looked her way. And that was because she believed. Alice caught her watching. She talked about demonic possession, but not to Alice, only about her. Alice knew the woman saw in her what she could become if the book turned its focus. ‘We all have our cross to pick up and carry,’ Mara had said to her. ‘I’ve got a job to do and my patients need me. As The Lord chooses it to be, he will arrange my path. Alice had never noticed how pious she was before. Demonisation brought out the worst in people.

Mara interacted with Alice as little as possible and Alice noticed that she always wore gloves when she passed anything to her. Alice didn’t know whether to be amused or sad, was this catching? After all, when she went crazy, it didn’t happen all at once. It’s getting to you, Mara. It’s happening.

Religious mania, the book said in her ear. That could be fun.

‘Go away,’ Alice replied. It was in her head so much now that she tried to ignore it. But it was like tinnitus, and when it irritated her she talked to it, unable to separate what was inside from reality.  

Ah, but I lost my virginity to religion. My first, you understand. Been there, done that, forgot to wear the condom. 

Alice stalked the hospital corridors, muttering to it under her breath, her lips moving as she read and walked. It was her oracle and her tormentor.

She barely slept and Mick was worried about her. But they were hanging in there, holding it together as best they could. It wasn’t the kind of crisis that came with a handbook. There were instructions for dealing with a fuel crisis or even a pandemic, but when it came to a nasty case of the old demons, you had to feel your way and hope. They did a lot of hoping.  

 While she was hidden like a mouse in a hole, they’d charged into the bathroom looking for her. They shouted and left. But they hadn’t checked the cubicle door, kicked it in, superhero style, so, for want of something better to do, she’d just sat on the toilet seat. Not even reading, just sitting, trying not to think.

She couldn’t stay there forever, so she left the stall. Her reflection in the bathroom mirror was somebody else—a gaunt woman with wild eyes and cheekbones carved out of exhaustion.

Blasphemous phrases, you look rough. Have you considered a brown paper bag?

Her ponytail was a tangled mess of escaping strands in a frizzy, mousey-brown halo. Perhaps she’d dye it pink, or blue, or cut the whole damn lot off. But what good would it do? She’d still be herself.

Before barricading her office, she’d been scheduled to do the ward rounds. Her lab coat was still on. It was stained, the buttons undone and it hung off her shoulders like an afterthought. She was done in this hospital and none of it mattered.

For her final duty, she pretended to be a doctor—after all, that’s what the name badge on her fancy dress coat said. It’s what she used to be. She smiled at the stranger in the mirror and braved the corridor. She could do this. One last show for the people in the cheap seats. The book would give her strength.

Mara caught her arm near the nurses’ station. ‘Alice. We need to talk. You can’t be here.’

She barely looked up from the latest entry in the book, searching for hidden meanings and what came next.

‘Not now. I’m working.’

Mara’s grip tightened. ‘You’re not working, Alice. You can’t be on the ward. You’re carrying that thing around like it’s oxygen. Somebody died, sweetie. Do you remember? People are worried about you. Honey, I’m worried about you. You need to come with me.’

Alice wrenched her arm free. ‘You don’t understand. I need it.’

‘For what? What does it do for you except make you crazy? You’re arguing with a book in front of patients. Come and pray with me before I take you to Dr Calvert.’

‘It talks back.’ Alice shouted. They’d drawn an audience. ‘You can’t hear it. It’s whispering. Always. It knows me.’

Dr Calvert’s voice sliced through the corridor like a scalpel. ‘Dr Grant. A word.’

Alice stared at her judge and executioner. The book thrummed in her hands. She felt it stirring. Alice looked wild, and Mara put Alice’s terror above her own. ‘It’s okay. I’ll come with you.’

The walk to Calvert’s office was the slow march of the condemned, only faster. Calvert had always been brisk and Alice spent the first six months of her tenure studying her. She admired the physician and emulated her mannerisms and efficiency until they fit her skin.

Calvert sat behind her desk. Leader and subordinate, winner and loser, and a steel-coated NHS slab of MDF desktop between them. Mara turned to leave but Calvert waved her back. ‘I’d like you to sit in on this, nurse Argan. Mara sat at the back of the room, and Alice noticed the security guard slip in and stand by the door. His legs were apart, hands clasped at his crotch. The sadness on Calvert’s face made Alice want to cry. But she had to protect the book in case they tried to take it. Her grip was unrelenting.

‘This can’t go on,’ Calvert said. ‘I’ve ignored the rumours and turned a blind eye because you were a damn good psychiatrist. But this?’

‘Please don’t sack me.’

Kaboom! He-he.

Alice twitched but didn’t respond to either of them.

Calvert gestured to the book. ‘I have a duty of care to you, your patients, and the hospital. We’re way beyond a touch of stress, Alice. I can’t ignore what’s happening. You’re very lucky that initial findings show that Mr Rawling’s death was proven to be due to an electrical fault, otherwise, you’d be in police custody by now after your wild ramblings.’

Alice turned to look at Mara, but she lowered her head and wouldn’t meet her eyes. Mara knew the truth but she hadn’t said anything. Mara had seen Alice with the end of the power cable in her hand after the switch didn’t work.  

Calvert was still talking and Alice refocused. ‘But you must see that we can no longer tolerate these delusions. I have the reputation of the hospital to think about. The last thing we need is rumours of you being an angel of death leaking to the press. We will not have this scandal on our hands.’

An angel of death. Is that what she was? Alice lifted her head. ‘I’m not delusional.’

Mara tried to calm her. Alice heard it in her tone and was grateful. ‘Alice, it’s okay, sweetie. We know you can’t help it. Please. Put the book down and talk to us. Just for a second.’

Alice hugged it tighter. ‘I can’t.’

Calvert’s expression hardened and she delivered the death blow. ‘Dr Grant, due to the condition of your current mental health, you are unfit to practice. I therefore have no choice but to place you on immediate suspension pending a call for your dismissal. It should never have got this far, and you should have been released months ago. That is something I’m going to have to live with.’ Did Calvert know what she’d done as well? Was she covering it up?

‘No,’ Alice shook her head.

‘Security will escort you to your office to gather your belongings.’

Alice’s world crumbled. She stood up, bumping into her chair. ‘You can’t do this.’

‘I’m sorry, Alice and I wish you every success in the future.’

Are you going to let her talk to you like that?

She jerked and batted her shoulder as if knocking off an irritating wasp, but she didn’t answer the book. She wouldn’t give Calvert the satisfaction of looking down her nose.

The book intervened and as Alice stood in front of her desk, Calvert’s chair flew backwards, spilling the elegant lady onto her elegant arse. Mara prayed to Our Father, and the security guard screamed like a girl. ‘Get me the hell out of here,’ he said. ‘This is some weird shit.’

He came forward and touched her elbow. He looked scared to put his hand on her, and Alice wanted to shout, ‘Boo!’ She shrugged him off. It was Carl—Alyssa, his three-year-old, called her Aunty Ali. Alice went to their summer BBQs, let her hair down, got drunk. Carl and Mick went fishing together. She felt Carl’s discomfort and delved into her depleted bag of expressions to find an old smile. She put it on to let him know it was okay.

But it wasn’t.

Alice had been at the helm of enough of these disciplinaries. Her mind wandered as she collected her dignity. It must have been Rochelle’s day off. Alice knew how dismissals worked. Calvert would have had a female guard if one had been available, less intimidating being shadowed by a woman.

Sexist, much?

They thought it was easier for the sacked individual when they took the walk of shame if the security escort was female. Alice didn’t see any difference, she was still being frogmarched out like a criminal. The buzzing in her skull was deafening.

As Carl tried to guide her out, she panicked. ‘You don’t understand. You’re all in danger.’

‘That will be all, Dr Grant,’ Calvert said. She was back in her chair but traumatised.

‘You can’t deny the book now,’ Alice shouted at her. She backed away, clutching the book, as Mara reached out. ‘Alice, don’t make this worse.’

‘It’s protecting me.’ Alice screamed. ‘You’re all blind. It tells me what’s coming.’

Carl grabbed her arms as Mason slipped in and held her. She couldn’t believe Calvert had pressed the panic button under her desk. ‘Why are you doing this? I’m not a danger. I’m trying to help.’ She fought them.

Atta girl.

‘Stop them from doing this. Help me.’ Alice implored the book to intervene, and Calvert dropped her head. But she saw the pity, sadness and fear on her mentor’s face.

Alice didn’t recognise herself as she kicked and thrashed against them. She screamed like a patient and it took all their strength to drag her away. It was as though she watched it happening from above. This was a bad dream.

She emptied her office, collecting the accumulation of six years in this room. A stack of boxes had appeared by her desk and Carl looked so awkward that she felt like hugging him.

Don’t touch him, he’ll have you for sexual misconduct.

‘Don’t be ridiculous. He’s my friend.’

‘Pardon?’ Carl asked.

‘Nothing.’

‘It’s okay, Dr Grant. Just box it all up, and I’ll put it in the van and drop it in for you later,’ he said.

That was kind, but Dr Grant. Not Alice.

When her career was packed into horrible boxes, he cleared his throat. ‘Ready?’

She nodded.

‘I’ll take you out the back way.’

She stood up straight. ‘Thank you, Carl. I appreciate that.’

Alice sat on the curb outside the hospital, staring at the building that had been her life. She was aware of them gathering at windows, staring. She didn’t care. She had the book. The sky was overcast and the wind mauled her, burrowing under her collar and stealing her warmth. It had been a long, hot summer, but now it was over. She had nothing and had no idea how she’d win, but if it involved dumb luck and not reading the instructions properly she was their best shot.

The book spoke in her head. It drifted through the hum of traffic as an ambulance, with its siren screaming, announced its approach. This time, the book didn’t confuse her with riddles and there were no taunting whispers. It talked to her in a hard voice with its ancient sibilant back edge. It spoke clearly, the tone cold and absolute.

Let’s make a deal, Alice.

‘What?’

Play a game with me. You and Mick. It’s time to end this—and it will end. The thing is, do we reach the grand finale on your terms or mine? This is your final challenge. If you win, I’ll let you destroy me. Forever. The pages rustled as it laughed.

‘It’s a trick.’

No trickery or trapper. A solid deal as good as my word.

‘I don’t trust you.’

Then prepare to die, my dear, you and the chinless wonder.

Alice shivered.

The words sank in and she weighed her options. ‘What do we have to do?’

Ah. Ah. All in good time.

Her breath was visible in the air and her cold fingers tightened around the book’s edges. ‘What kind of game is it?’

The pages flipped on their own and stopped near the middle. Words bled onto the paper as she watched, written by an unseen hand.

The Rules:

Follow the clues.

No skipping ahead.

No outside help.

No quitting.

Failure has consequences.

Voila.

Alice’s stomach churned.  She couldn’t believe this was ending—and on the day she’d been sacked. She didn’t believe it. Going along with its sick game would be like trusting a crocodile’s smile. ‘And if we win?’

I’ll let you burn me, this time. You end this.

And if we lose?

The air around her turned thick, and she felt her throat tightening as if she was suffocating.

The voice was smug. You’re a sharp one Dr Grant. They don’t usually ask that. Then I win. And you will not like the outcome.

A die-die situation then. She had nothing to lose.

Are you ready to play?

Words appeared and her eyes ran over the first clue on the page.

Begin at the place where the dead once danced.

Alice’s heart thudded. She had no idea what it meant.

She picked up the book.

‘Deal.’
 

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