Chasing Ghosts

Chapter 22

Butterfly Effect

“Okay,” Addison said, “we’ve improved our odds by another twenty percent there.” She watched the handlink for a moment curiously. “Huh. And climbing…”

“Maybe Sam’s managing to make a difference too,” Ben said, as he sat in Sam Beiderman’s bed, writing a long, detailed letter to the depressed man for when he inevitably returned to his life. “So what else am I putting in this thing?”

“You’ve got down the cognitive strategies?”

“Yes, and the whole bit about exercise, and sunshine, and nutrition, though I don’t know how he’s going to get much of that from in here. I hope this doesn’t come across as patronising. Last thing we need is a backlash effect.”

“Well, Ziggy’s giving us pretty good odds on it helping in marginal ways.” Addison swiped at the handlink, scrolling through more data. “Okay… let’s see… oh!” She smirked. “Well, SSRIs won’t be around for decades, but there is one, uh, natural remedy that’s had promising results in recent studies. Only thing is…”

“What?”

“Well… it’s magic mushrooms.” Addison stifled a laugh, but had trouble keeping it in.

Ben raised a confused eyebrow. “I mean… it’s not that funny, is it?”

Addison shook her head, forcing herself to become more serious. “Sorry, it’s just… apparently, Janis told  the others this story where she took shrooms as a teen and—never mind. It’s not really relevant.”

“Good to see you getting along with her, I guess?” He frowned. “I’m not so sure smuggling hallucinogens into a mental hospital’s such a hot idea. They might think he’s had another episode.”

“Yeah—maybe don’t write that in the letter.”

A knock came at the door, before Nurse Chatam opened it and slipped a head inside.

“Alright, Mister Beiderman, I’ll be heading home for the evening shortly—is there anything you need before I go?”

Addison motioned to Ben. “Now’s your chance for phase four.”

Ben put down his pen and paper. “Uh, yeah—do you mind having a quick talk?” He patted the bed next to himself.

“Sure, Mister Beiderman,” she said, and took up his offer to sit beside him. “What can I do for you?”

“Well, first off, can you just call me Sam? ‘Mister Beiderman’ is so formal,” Ben said. “Makes me feel more isolated, you know? I’ve been in here long enough to be on a first name basis with the people I see every day, surely.”

The nurse raised her eyebrows. “Oh. Alright, if that’s what you’d prefer.” She processed this for a moment, before adding, “I guess you may call me Alice. Though maybe not in front of some of the doctors.”

“Alice…” Ben said, as if to test the name. “Great. Thank you, Alice.”

“Why did Tibby call you ‘Ben’ earlier?” Alice asked suddenly.

“Not important.” He shook his head. “But listen: I  just want you to know that I appreciate everything you do around here, and the times I might lash out at you, or say something to hurt you… that’s when I’ll need you the most. And I apologise in advance, because it’s bound to happen sometimes.”

Alice gave him a shrug. “Comes with the territory.”

“Yeah, I suppose it does. I just need someone in this place I can put my trust in. Could you be that person?”

The nurse viewed him through searching eyes. “Where is this coming from all of a sudden, Mister—uh, sorry—Sam?”

Ben heaved a sigh. “I’m just taking stock of what I need,” he said. “I’m trying to help you to help me get better. While I have, uh, the wherewithal to do so. So… what do you say?”

Alice pondered this for a moment. “Well, I like to think I’m doing my best for all the patients here, Sam. And we’ve already been through a lot, you and I.”

Ben nodded. “Exactly. You’ve done your job well. You’re a great nurse.” He leaned in to her. “But what I really need is a friend.”

“And you want that friend to be me?”

“Sure. Why not?”

Alice’s lips curved upward. “Yeah, why not? How about tomorrow I bring you a deck of cards and we can play a game of Cribbage during my break?”

“I’d like that,” Ben said, smiling warmly, then flicked a glance at Addison. She was looking down at the handlink closely, and gave him a thumbs up.

“I think we’ve done just about all we can now,” she said, a nervous tone in her voice. “Let’s hope Sam can push it the rest of the way.”

*        *        *

A piece of sandwich dropped out of Sam’s mouth.

Whoa. Déjà vu.

Sam glanced down at the metal tray, and then back up at Missus Beiderman sitting across the table. She looked the same. Same clothes, same earrings, same hairstyle.

Why am I back here…?

But there was something different about the way she was looking at him this time.

“Sorry,” he said in anticipation of her jabs.

“It—it’s okay,” she said. She was looking at him with… pity, perhaps? Not the look of disgust or frustration he’d seen last time.

“Sam, I…” the woman began, and Sam suddenly really wished he knew what her name was. “…what you told me last week was… eye-opening. And I want to give you the opportunity to convince me to stay with you. To show that you have it in you to get better.”

Ben must have changed something. A smile tickled at Sam’s lips.

He reached across the table, placing his hand over hers.

“I’m doing everything I can to help myself,” he said gently, “I swear. But depression… it may never really go away. I can improve, but it may always be a struggle for me. If I’m lucky, this is me at my lowest point.”

Missus Beiderman nodded, her eyes glistening with held back emotion.

“I won’t ask you to stay if you don’t think you can cope,” he continued, “but I can’t lie and say that your decision won’t impact me enormously. Your support would mean the world to me.”

“I know…” Missus Beiderman’s gaze dropped to her hands. “On the phone you said depression was a disease. That stuck with me, because I never thought of it that way before. And I started thinking about Betsy and how her husband came back from Korea with one leg. And how terrible I would think it’d be if she left him just because he had trouble walking.”

She bit her lip. “But I’m scared that we’ll never be able to have the life we pictured. I want children, Sam. But I’d need to leave my job if that happened. What if you’re not up to providing for us?”

Sam squeezed her hand. “All I can promise is that I’ll do everything in my power to work towards that, and that’s as much as I can promise. It’s up to you.” He took a deep, desperate breath. His life was on the line, but he couldn’t tell her that. He wasn’t going to manipulate her. “Are you… are you willing to stand by me?”

She opened her mouth to answer, but everything changed again.

Sam once again felt the blood on his hands. He couldn’t see anything, but he could feel his life draining away.

He’d failed. He was going to die. He’d tried and tried, but he was still going to die.

I’ve been beaten, shot, strapped to an electric chair, stabbed, nearly dumped into the sea with garbage, almost burned alive… and this is how it ends?

“I’m sorry, Sam,” he mumbled—or maybe just thought the words, he wasn’t entirely sure—before consciousness gave way to nothing.

 
 
 
 
 

Am I dead?

Sam drew a sharp breath. Well, generally dead people didn’t breathe, so that was a good sign. He tried to blink his eyes open, but the light was too bright, so he closed them again.

He felt a warm hand in his. “Sam…”

“Donna?” he murmured.

“Who’s Donna? It’s me, Sam. Barbara.”

Sam’s eyes popped open again, and he blinked a few times as they adjusted. It was sunlight streaming in a window.

“Barbara…” So that’s her name.

Missus Beiderman gazed upon him, a look of relief on her face. “You’re awake,” she said, her voice emotional.

Sam looked down to his wrists; they were bandaged up tightly.

“Oh, thank god,” he whispered. “I thought I was dead for sure.”

“You regret it?” Barbara asked, hopeful. Sam nodded.

“Who found me?”

“Alice. She stayed back a little longer; said she was going to sneak you some ice cream. Isn’t that lucky?”

Who’s Alice?

“Glad you’re still with us, Sammy,” came a man’s voice from the other side of the bed. Sam studied the man, who shared some features with Sam Beiderman.

“Matthew,” he said, making an assumption.

“Don’t scare us like that again,” Sam Beiderman’s brother said with a sad smile. “I don’t want to have to tell Maryanne her Daddy’s gone to Heaven.”

“Sorry,” Sam choked out. “I guess I’m lucky to have the two of you. And… Alice.”

Well, it wasn’t luck.

Sam still felt weak, so he closed his eyes and relaxed his neck.

 
 
 

A moment later—or at least it seemed that way to Sam—he reopened his eyes to find himself in darkness.

“Huh?” he grunted, sitting up. He wasn’t in a bed at all now. It was a gritty, dusty floor. And—what was on his head?

Nearby, a beam of light appeared.

“What the hell…” came Ben’s voice.

“Ben?”

“Sam! Are we back? Wait, this isn’t the padded room…”

Sam reached to his headlamp, switching it on and aiming the light at the floor.

“Uh… well it’s not padded now, but…” he gestured to the writing on the floorboards. “I think it’s the same room…”

“We… we did it?” Ben asked, his light shining upon his own name—now old and faded with age.

“I think we did it,” Sam said, hardly allowing himself to believe that he was back in 2010.

In the darkness, the two leapers hugged one another, collective relief washing over them.

“I think you’ve proven yourself worthy of my trust, Ben,” Sam said, wiping a tear from his eye. “You and your team. If you hadn’t been there…”

“I know,” Ben said, pulling away and heading for the door. It now had a perfectly usable handle on it, and he opened it with a flourish. “Now—let’s check out of here, shall we?”

Current Chapter: 22