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CZ Studio and Radio Verte presents The Wild Wind by Corey Zimmerman.

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Chapter 13

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The Wild Wind

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Chapter 14

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Dr. Zola punctuated the unique philosophy of the hilltop for Fanny at once by selecting one male attendant to meet her at the depot.

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Unshackling her the moment she was in his care, he was gentle as he grasped her arm, but Fanny tore it away nonetheless, saying, lay off buster.

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She then spotted the warm brown eyes of a tall man standing with his wife and kids waiting to board the train.

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As she curled her hair around one finger, why hey there handsome. The man smiled, his wife disgusted as she slapped his arm while their daughter gazed up at Fanny hypnotically.

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Better keep an eye on that one, he's a looker, said Fanny. Let's go birdie, quit messing around, said the attendant. Anyone ever tell you what a stiff you are? asked Fanny. What? She's just a loony.

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Fanny, I am aware you have feigned insanity to escape the penitentiary, said Dr. Zola. I know you're a clever gal and you have your wits about you, possibly too many, but I do believe over the years your antics, your illusions, have become delusions of their own.

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They've possibly affected your reasoning in such a manner, I fear you may have lost touch with the fundamental reality. So I've been told, Doc, said Fanny.

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Now let me be clear, I do not believe you are insane, you're just a little too clever for your own good. Possibly an inflated sense of self-grander, yet motivated by low self-esteem, underlined and most likely a product of past traumas.

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Doc, you've known me for a whole four, maybe five minutes. Fanny, I know you better than you think. And I must ask, you just broke out of that prison, can you please explain to me why you were flirting with going back?

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You threatening me, Doc? Of course not, I am simply pointing out your self-sabotage.

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Fanny laughed as she wondered how he knew what it was like to be a lone woman in this world.

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It really is such a pity you have found yourself here, but at least here you will be safe.

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So you think I broke out because I'm a coward? asked Fanny.

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I think you broke out because that's what you do, it's a tradecraft for you. As far as being a coward, no, I believe you have stood up to the world.

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Fanny, you've had some great feats, but it's taken its toll. Right or wrong, life has consequences, and unfortunately you now find yourself with two choices.

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You can allow me, us, to help you heal, or you will end up living your life behind bars or worse. The third option, well, it is no longer an option, and that's escaping.

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Fanny rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. I have been head of this institution for six years now, and in that time, our policies have gained recognition the world over.

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Way to toot your own horn there, Doc.

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The doctor cleared his throat and continued, recognition for our liberality toward our patients, particularly our leniency toward women patients who roam about the grounds freely.

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Uninterested, Fanny looked over the antiquated torture devices mounted on the office wall.

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A mini museum of the psychiatric dark age.

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Fanny ran her fingers down a leather strap, asking, like a bit of summer cabbage, do you Doc?

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Fanny, did you know being tossed into snake pits or tied up like an animal, subjected to severe flogging, was once considered the best treatment for the insane?

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Coming on awfully strong, ain't you, Doc? Maybe you should buy a gal dinner first. At least flowers.

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Fanny batted her lashes.

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Clearing his throat once more, the doctor asked, why do you believe the authorities approved of such horrendous treatment of the sick?

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I don't know, Doc.

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Easy, pray. Once you get a lost girl locked up, I suppose you can have her any which way you want.

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I tell you, Fanny, it was because the authorities relied upon the old story of precedent and the closing of the mind to the new.

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Burning shame, said Fanny.

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Fanny, where shall you escape to if there's nowhere to go? What fence will you climb if there is no fence? What key shall you lift if there is no locked door?

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Nonetheless, Fanny took no time flirting with escape. As she walked right out the front door freely, with no one stopping her, she crossed alone.

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There was no obstacle. No fence, no guards, no bars, only a garden, a large green lawn, and the blue sky above.

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Fanny decided to make her way to Grandma Thelma's back in Missouri, but as she started off briskly down the lane, she noticed a nurse watching her like a hawk from a balcony above.

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Yet instead of stopping her, the nurse simply observed.

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This annoyed Fanny, so she simply walked out onto the lawn and plopped down on her rear end in the grass.

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She laid back, sunshine upon her face, squinting her dark eyes, and grasped onto the blades of green.

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Cecil, what do you think would happen if I let go? You think I'd fall off the face of the earth and plummet through the clouds into space, into heaven?

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Fanny sure wore a grin on her face as she plopped a suitcase down on her bed that first night.

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Digging through her bag of tricks, she pulled from its bottom a man suit.

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An expert at embroidery, Fanny had long tailored it to fit her petite figure.

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She then removed a can of shoe polish and brandished herself a rudimentary beard in the reflection of her silver handmaid.

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She chuckled and tucked her hair under a boy's cloth cap. She then rose her chin high and pulled her shoulders back.

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Hmph! She approved.

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Fanny charged into the sitting room, where a nurse and a few female patients shrieked at the sight of a strange man in the woman's ward at such a late hour.

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The nurse in charge stood and shouted, You're not allowed here! Leave at once!

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So the strange man did leave at once, quickly and effortlessly escaping into the night.

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Fanny scrambled down a deep ravine to a muddy wagon trail leading to town.

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Yes Cecil, the roast beef was absolutely delicious. No, no, I don't want to go back to the pen.

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I know what you're doing Cecil, don't scorn me!

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Before ducking into the bushes at the sight of a passing coach.

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Please Cecil, can we talk about this later?

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Upon reaching Grandview, Fanny's fine shoes were caked in mud. She tried kicking it off on the curb, but they needed a good scrub.

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So she entered the first shoeshining parlor she came across.

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The shoeshine, a middle-aged man with a mouth hidden behind a thick silver mustache, peered down wide-eyed with utter surprise.

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From behind a pair of tiny round spectacles, at the tiny woman's shoe, the man placed upon his bench.

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But not as surprised as he would be when he walked out without paying a cent.

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Given the amount of mud the shoeshine removed from Fanny's fine shoes, he was not too pleased.

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But nonetheless asked kindly, excuse me sir, but wouldn't you be kind enough to pay me the dime I have earned?

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I apologize sir, deepening her voice. I forgot my coin purse at home. I shall pay you with interest in a day or two.

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As Fanny trotted off in her now shiny shoes.

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Damn thief, the shoeshine cursed, waving down the first police officer to come along.

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Unfortunately for Fanny, the police officer had already been instructed to be on the lookout for an escaped female patient in a man suit.

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And now he found himself on the lookout for a man in woman's shoes.

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An odd night indeed.

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Fanny made her way downtown in a slow casual stride, a cigarette between her teeth.

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She swindled two dollars along the way off a drunkard whom she had left sorrowful in the shadows, and bought herself a bottle of rye.

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Fanny then checked herself into three separate hotels along the waterfront, under the aliases Burt, Dawn, and Frank.

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Fanny smoked and drank the night away, all the while arguing with Cecil over precisely what she planned to do next.

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Out of habit I suppose, Fanny resorted to her typical antics.

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With the rising sun, she was out on a tower, going into one storefront after the next,

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stealing any shiny object she could get her tiny sly hands upon.

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And after a few hours, her hotel rooms began to fill up.

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The employee behind the jewelry counter at Beringer's department store was busy showing another lady a pair of earrings

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when Fanny pocketed a collection of golden pocket watches and split.

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After 10,000 hours of practice, she had become quite the artist, and they never saw her coming, and rarely seen her leave.

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She passed a newspaper boy shouting,

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Birdie flew the coop, Fanny skips the trial elu.

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Hearing her own name bellowed in the street lent Fanny a certain sense of vanity, even pride,

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so she reached into her pocket and pulled out a shiny watch.

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A boy, she said, as he looked eye level, back at the peculiar man.

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Let me see your hand.

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The boy looked into his hand and was shocked to see a golden watch, quickly realizing he held more than a year's earning in his palm.

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Wow, thanks a lot, mister.

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Ma'am, the fort carrying on.

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But she paused, you know what? I'll trade you for a paper, she said, taking the whole stack from under his arm.

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She then made her way down Water Street, reading aloud.

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A woman known to fame and to the police, penitentiary, warden, and asylum attendants of half the cities of the country,

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simply as Fanny, up to two o'clock this morning, had not been found.

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Fanny was in Joliet Penitentiary when she developed insanity and was brought to the Hilltop State Hospital.

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There, she and her good looks further complicated matters for Dr. George Sola,

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and the woman with many aliases, including Bertie, made her mind up to fly on elsewhere.

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She played a pretty trick in getting away, and just where she'll turn up next is a matter that only time can tell.

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Absorbed in the article, Fanny turned a corner onto Bridge Street and ran smack dab into the very officer on the lookout for a woman dressed as a man,

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and now a man in woman's shoes.

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She dropped a stack of newspapers at his shoes and noticed how absurdly shiny they were.

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Shit, she said. I mean, pardon me, officer.

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Fanny gathered up the mess of papers.

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Attempting to keep her face concealed, one of the caps brimmed and briskly walked on.

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The officer picked up a paper the peculiar man had left behind, shouting,

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Excuse me, sir, as he waved the paper in the air, and as Fanny continued on,

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she gave a gasp as she was grabbed by the arm, knowing she was caught red-handed.

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Sir, your paper, he said.

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Fanny turned slowly around and grabbed the paper.

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Thank you, officer, she said, as the officer was taken aback by the man's beautiful dark eyes,

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and as he looked him up and down carefully, he noticed woman's shoes on his feet.

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Behind bars once again, Fanny began contemplating her next move, so she did what she always does.

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She fainted.

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However, once again, the officers were warned of her antics, and she realized her oldest trick in the book might need to be retired.

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Within the hour, Dr. Zola himself retrieved Fanny from the jail, and she found herself back in her own bed by midnight.

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But as the moonlight shone through the window, she possessed not a shiny object to her name.

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I had a good run, Cecil.

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Oh, how I hope some poor maid discovers my trove of treasures and keeps them all for herself.

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Shh! groaned the woman in the next bed over.

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Damn thief, Fanny shouted.

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Cecil, them cops is nothing but good-for-nothing thieves, and the whole cottage shushed her in unison.

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Good night, Cecil. Yes, the roast beef is good.

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Every Friday evening, the day room was transformed into a ballroom with streamers and decoratives, as the patients in attendance arrived in their finest attire.

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The Hilltop Orchestra, which consisted of a combination of seven patients and staff members, played guitars, a violin, a stand-up bass, and a snare drum.

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In this particular evening, Dr. Zola and Nurse Kate stood by the punch bowl, keeping a vigilant eye on things, especially on a patient named Ivan, who kept himself and I on the ladies.

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Ivan's case note read,

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Acts as a watchman, stutters, a compulsive masturbator. It did not take long for his hand to grab one of the nurse's nylons, and for his other hand to go down his pants, and with the nod of Dr. Zola, an attendant escorted him off to a private area immediately, where he could finish his business properly.

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It was a lovely night. The orchestra played their hearts out, and the men who could dance chose the nurses first, before settling for the female patients.

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The doctor looked out over his children, unaware that Fanny had spiked her punch, as she whirled about.

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Many of the patients were gray dancers, others simply shuffled, or wandered about lost in an orchestra of thought. Blackberry pie had stained Ben's face blue, and everyone cheered when large bowls of ice cream with fresh strawberries were served, just as a short and squat patient named Marcy yelled,

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She's bleeding!

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In mere seconds, every patient abandoned their desserts and dance partners to rush for Ellie May, who sat holding her doll by the window, her hand covered in blood.

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Fascinated, they lost interest in all else. Nurse Catherine tended to Ellie May's wound, calmly instructing the patients to get back to dancing, though most could not divert their eyes from the bloody hand, all except for Bookbinder, who stood in silence staring down at his feet.

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Book sure likes his new shoes, said Nurse Kate.

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It appears so, Kate. It appears so, said Dr. Zola.

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I offered him a new hat, but he took off that old dirty cap, looked at it, and then gave me quite a look that clearly said, No, I don't think I will.

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Nurse Kate chuckled.

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Bookbinder was a good-looking man, and his health had drastically improved since arriving at the hilltop two years prior. He had become physically fit, working on the burial crew, of which Dr. Zola had assigned him.

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Digging seven or eight graves a day, his limbs were as chiseled as his jaw, and with warm brown eyes under his cap, which covered a full head of dark Eastern European hair, his shyness was rather charming.

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When Fanny first approached Bookbinder, he was beside himself, no match for her charm or her curves.

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Old Book was an easy catch, and she knew then and there he shall melt and seep into the crevices of the palm of her tiny hand, and she reached for his trembling heart, 160 beats per minute.

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She could kill a man, or rather, she could get Book to kill a man on her behalf.

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Why, hello there, said Fanny, placing one finger on his chest as he squirmed in his shoes. Now, don't be shy, handsome, I don't bite. So what's your name?

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Bookbinder said nothing, though with a hard swallow his Adam's apple spoke for him.

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Wasting no time, Marcy strode up jealously, saying, I'm Marcy. This is Book. He don't talk. He's my boyfriend.

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Oh, Book, you have a girlfriend. What a pity, said Fanny. Book quickly shook his head no, and Marcy walked away angrily, cursing under her breath, hands on her ample hips, everyone watching the spectacle.

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So, Book, you don't talk? I bet I can get you to make a noise or two.

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I bet? Marcy started to cry. You men's is all sons of bitches, she yelled.

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The nurse tried to calm her with a glass of punch, which Marcy swatted from her hand, and it splashed to the floor and shattered, and George, a frail old man pacing about, slipped and fell.

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Fanny looked back at Marcy, saying, it sure was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, as she ran her finger down his chest towards his belly, stopping just short of his navel.

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Well, I hope to see you around. As she turned and walked away, peering back with a long seductive glance, and two bats of her long eyelashes, which left Book feeling half lost, half found, spun around, and trying not to watch her backside, which was no easy task for anyone.

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Marcy let out a horrific scream. I hope he burned to death as Fanny walked from the room with a granite, saying, shouldn't play with matches, Marcy, you might get burned. And Book, well, he never felt so alive.

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It's no exaggeration to say, Fanny was a real pain for Dr. Zula. When she wasn't sneaking booze into her cottage, the meaty was having a heyday with her antics.

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The doctor had always been an even-tempered man, yet morning after morning, reading her name across the Grandview Journal's front page over his freshly baked bread made his blood boil as the teapot screamed.

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Dr. Zula did his best to remain calm, focused, and determined. He had worked hard to gain the city's trust. The trust Fanny was now threatening to destroy, his blood pressure surely up at Baker's Dozen.

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If there was a crack big enough for a giraffe to come through, it was over the hills and far away for Fanny.

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Fanny woke the old Sinai woman, telling her she was in the wrong bed. The woman was confused, but in hindsight, she was always confused.

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So Fanny rose the woman from her bed and walked her to her own, saying, I'm sorry to wake you, but your bed is just over here. Come along now.

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While the attendants were scouring the hilltop searching for the old woman whose bed was found empty, Fanny snuck out an open window and vanished into the woods.

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It was not for hours later that the nurses caught on and that the general alarm was sounded, and scores of nurses in their white aprons stumbled about the thicket with candles and lanterns searching for Fanny.

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So Fanny had made her way to the road by now, where she caught a ride and a coach to Iowa. The gentleman made no pass upon her, which she was grateful for. He even offered her $2 upon leaving her roadside, to which she obliged.

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They ain't gonna catch me this time, Cecil. I'm gonna head west and start a new life. I don't know what I'm gonna do when I get there, but I'll figure it out. I always do, Cecil.

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You'll get a teaspoon of credit, won't you? I think I deserve such, seeing how far I'd have made it without you.

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Fanny was indeed determined, but unfortunately for her, trampling for mile after mile under the hot sun, she gave in to her thirst for a few fingers of rye.

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Those $2 made their way to a saloon at the nearest town, where she played her devilish tricks upon a few drunken men in the street, and as their loud laughter caught the attention of the sheriff, he immediately recognized Fanny.

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Fanny that you? Just what in tarnation you doing in my town? And as determined as Fanny was to begin anew, she had surrendered to her habits, and now to the sheriff.

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I'm awful glad you're doing well, Fanny. I appreciate you coming along without a fuss.

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When Fanny arrived back at the hilltop, Dr. Zola said not a word.

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But Cecil's scorn would not cease.

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Shut up, Cecil. I don't want to hear it.

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Go eat worms, dammit! shouted Fanny, as the cottage huster.

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IF you could still use these letters to express the purchase of what had been decked out, you'd well have to write them.

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Thanks for watching!