Chapter Text
Winter’s Refuge
Chapter Two Hundred Thirty-Five
HEYES
At the start of our ride, I was quiet just looking out at Philadelphia. The cities I consider big, like Denver and Cheyenne, are small compared to this. Most of the city seemed to be on the Delaware River. Everything is closer together here than the West. Another river, the Schuykill runs through the center of the city. This place seems foreign to me. I’m not used to that. I like space to breathe. Just miles outside of the city, the houses turned into estates. And the land here is flat. Yes, there are some green, gently rolling hills here and there, but nothing like the mountains of the West. Then I watched as the landscape turned rural with fields and woods and pastures.
“That’s the Schuylkill River; it kinda divides Philadelphia,” Dr. Oliver explained. “Easiest way to cross it is by one of four ferries. We’re going to take the Upper Ferry today. It goes from Fairmount to Haverford Road.”
“What’s that?” I asked, pointing to what looked like a floating bridge next to the ferry.
“That’s a pontoon bridge built during the Revolutionary War,” Dr. Oliver answered. “It’s still in use today.”
The only war I know is the one between the states when me and the Kid were young. It seemed to me it was between Kansas and Missouri, although I know there was a lot of other fighting. Kid’s brother died back east somewhere. And raiders from that war killed our families. But I only know about the Revolution in books. Here in Philadelphia, it seems a lot more real.
I did as the Kid usually does when we travel. I leaned back in my seat and pulled my hat over my eyes. I didn’t even try to sleep. I tried not to think about what was ahead.
“Dr. Arden, Mr. Heyes, we are almost there.” The carriage driver’s loud voice disturbed my thoughts of Angie and our kids. “It’s that two-story building up ahead.”
It’s a dreary looking building, all grey and looked to be in disrepair. Shaking his head, Dr. Oliver said, “Worse than I thought.”
ASJ*****ASJ
I followed Dr. Oliver up the stairs to the front door. The sign over the entrance simply read State Sanitarium in faded black paint.
“What’s the smell?” I asked before we reached the top step.
“Probably a mixture of unwashed humans and their urine and rotting food,” Dr. Oliver answered, lifting the knocker. He let it fall three times.
A sudden chill went down my spine; even prison didn’t smell this bad. A slit in the door opened.
“Yeah?” a defiant voice answered, through that slit that slid open.
“We are here to see Dennis McNamara Walsh. I am his doctor, Oliver Arden, and this is Walsh’s cousin, Hannibal Heyes. We have an appointment with Dr. Drummond Freeman.” Dr. Oliver sounded calm, businesslike.
I took a breath to center myself and prepared myself for what I might find on the other side of the door.
The stench was worse on the other side of the door. Our guide wore a black mask over his nose and mouth. We walked down a dimly lit hallway. This was very different from the Wyoming State Territorial Prison. There the rule was silence. Even though the doors were closed, here I could hear muffled noises from the rooms as we passed…or were those screams? I couldn’t tell. Up ahead, I could see a common room, but our guide stopped in front of a thick wooden door before we got there. He knocked loudly, once and waited.
As we waited, I looked toward the crowded common room. Residents were tied to their chairs and didn’t seem to be talking, or even looking at each other. I didn’t get to understand what I was seeing, but knots were forming in my stomach and I had a strong urge to run…to escape. I’m here for a reason, I reminded myself. I was relieved when the door opened and me and Dr. Oliver followed the guard…no, not guard, escort. This is not a prison. This is a hospital.
“Gentlemen, please sit down. I’m Dr. Drummond Freeman. I’m in charge here.” The man said he was a doctor but he looked like a warden to me. I jumped when the wooden door slammed shut behind us.
I felt Dr. Oliver take a quick look at me before he said, “Dr. Freeman, thank you for seeing us. I am Dr. Oliver Arden and this is Hannibal Heyes. He’s the cousin of Dennis McNamara Walsh and papers have been filed to make him Mr. Walsh’s legal guardian.”
So that was the look that Oliver had given me. I kept my surprise off my face, showing a solemn expression. Then I realized, the stench was not as bad in this room. That heavy wooden door was built to keep it out and a wall of windows were wide open. This was the office of the man in charge, I think he said his name is Freeman. That’s an ironic name for a warden.
“I thought you only wanted to visit with Denny. He’s always been very uncooperative. He is unresponsive to our commands. Quite honestly, he can’t even control his bodily functions. We keep him restrained most of the time because he reacts negatively when touched. We also use paraldehyde to calm him.”
I watched Dr. Oliver sit up straight and put his hands in his lap where Dr. Freeman couldn’t see them. He clenched his fists until the knuckles turned white. This showed the storm of emotions brewing inside him at Dr. Freeman's words. “May we visit with Mr. Walsh now?” he asked. His voice was polite. I couldn’t have forced myself to be polite to this man. I was wondering what paraldehyde was and what did it do.
“Of course, Doctor,” Dr. Freeman replied as he went to the door. He opened it and said something. It was a few minutes before our same escort appeared, handing us each a mask like his. “If there is anything you need after visiting with Denny, just knock once on my door.”
ASJ*****ASJ
As we backtracked and walked down a side corridor, the weight of this place started to invade my mind. Everything was stark, the walls melted into the ceilings and floors, all an indescribable shade of grey. There was just that grey and the stench. We made two more turns, nothing but more grey and the smell, but now there were the muffled sounds of screams. I need to get out of here. I don’t look up, just at the heels of Dr. Oliver’s black shoes taking measured steps in front of me.
“This is Denny’s room,” our escort announced, stopping at a closed door and unlocking it. My heart beat faster. Dennis Walsh was a prisoner here.
“Thank you, sir,” answered Dr. Oliver. He opened the door slowly. If I thought the light in the corridors was dim, in here it was nearly non-existent.
Dennis McNamara Walsh was a huddle of humanity in the corner, rocking rhythmically. The smell almost made me vomit. I saw his excrement on the floor all in one corner. I didn’t see a chamber pot. He was looking up at the ceiling, his eyes distant, lost in his thoughts. Dr. Oliver didn’t touch him but went and knelt in front of him, waving his arms to get his attention. Fear flashed in Walsh’s hooded eyes that was replaced by a silent anguish.
“Heyes, I need you kneeling next to me,” Dr Oliver said, but my mind was reeling looking at this poor man…this abused prisoner. “Heyes!”
I forced myself to kneel next to the doctor.
“Heyes, use sign language. Tell him we are friends and here to help him,” he instructed me.
As soon as my fingers started to talk, Walsh turned his eyes to meet mine…blue eyes…the Kid’s eyes.
His eyes unnerved me, my heart clenched. I knew them well. Instead of signing ‘friends’, I signed ‘family.’ He didn’t respond but grabbed my hands. He closed his eyes tightly, licked his lips and said, “Mama?”
I felt like cheering until he forced out another word, “Help.” Neither word was clear but I was used to Ruth Ann’s slurred speech when she was learning verbal words. His shoulders slumped at the effort.
“Tell him I’m a doctor and want to see if he is alright,” Dr. Oliver told me.
As soon as I signed the word ‘doctor’, Walsh backed away, shaking his head and signing the word ‘No’ over and over. I could see the bitter fury coiled within his eyes. I’d seen that fury before in the Kid’s eyes.
“No doctor, friends. You’re safe. No doctor, Kid,” I signed before realizing I had called him Kid. I know they are cousins, but they look more alike than me and the Kid do.
Dr. Oliver touched his leg lightly and smiled when he looked at him. But I could feel anger and fear bubbling inside of me. It’s dark here. I need to get out. Panic was taking my thoughts away, confusing me. This was the dark cell of the prison. I was left here to rot. I tried the door but it was locked.
“Heyes, look at me,” Dr. Oliver’s voice demanded.
Why was he here? I looked at the man now sitting on the cot. Why was the Kid here also? But his face was drawn and weary, aged. I wanted to ask Dr. Oliver a question but my words were gone. I tried to say the alphabet backward. I couldn’t remember how to start. I tried to say it forward but I can’t get the ‘A’ out of my mouth.
“Heyes, look at me,” Dr. Oliver said softer this time. He has sad brown eyes. “I want to get this man out of here today. Do you understand?”
I looked at the man on the cot. He’s the Kid’s cousin. The one we came to visit. I nod my understanding to Dr. Oliver.
“My brother wrote to me about how you lose your words under stress. Is that what happened?”
I looked at the locked door and tried again and again to open it. I can’t get out. I’m trapped. I must be back in prison…a different prison though.
“Heyes, are you alright?” the doctor asked.
Shaking my head, I found I could sign with my hands, “No.”
“Heyes, can you sign your name?” The doctor’s expression shows worry and urgency. I’m not sure what he wants.
“Heyes, Heyes! I need you to sign the papers to get him out of here. You don’t need to talk. Just sign where I point. Can you do that?”
Closing my eyes, I sat up straight. Then I opened them and focused on the man rocking on the cot. I nod ‘Yes’ to the doctor.
“Good. We’ll be out of here soon. I promise,” he said as he banged on the door.
The loud sound had no effect on the man on the cot. He was lost in his own mind. I hope it’s as nice as the Solteria in my mind. I can’t see my Solteria right now. I need to concentrate and sign my name when told. I can do that. I know I can. And then I will try and search my mind for the peace of my Solteria hidden there.