CZ Studio and Radio Verte presents The Wild Wind by Corey Zimmerman.
Chapter 14.
The Wild Wind by Corey Zimmerman.
Soon Fanny began to show them unmistakable signs of tuberculosis as the waves spread across the
hilltop. And Dr. Zola was incredibly paranoid, suspecting Fanny was up to her usual antics.
And he instructed the nurses to watch to ensure she was not eating soap. However,
Fanny's symptoms seemed genuine enough. She couldn't eat and when she did, she vomited.
She lost weight and coughed through the night. She was feverish. And the microscope showed the
presence of a large number of tuberculosis bacillus. It would have been impossible for
Fanny to manipulate such lab results. So the doctor decided to send her to the
ward for tuberculosis patients. Fanny was gracious as the colony provided her an excellent
opportunity to demonstrate her culinary talent. And the colony ate well from the day of her
transfer, often dining outside upon white linen under the alps.
More tea? Fanny asked a woman who trembled so severely the cup had to be refilled every
few moments. Shush Cecil, I'm not faking it for roast beef. Fanny, these roast beef sandwiches
are delicious. What is your secret? A nurse asked. Ah, zhoo? Fanny replied. Ah, what?
The nurse asked. Zhoo? Fanny replied. It was no surprise such a radical change in
her diet and environment brought about a rapid change in her physical condition.
She gained weight and most of her symptoms were gone by early fall.
As Fanny's health continued to improve, vigilance relaxed. And instead of being a
closely guarded patient, Fanny became not only a valuable aid in the kitchen,
but in the care of the sick as well. Fanny had become indispensable.
Hello? Hello? Can you please send someone? One of the patients has gone missing,
Nurse Helen pleaded into the telephone. I just did the head count and I saw her
cot is empty. I swear the last time I checked she was there. I don't know what happened.
She was here one second and then she was gone. Her name? Fanny. Her name is Fanny.
Unlike most of the staff, Grandma Nurse chose not to live on campus. Although
nurses were generally expected not to marry, Grandma Nurse had been married for decades
to a lazy man. A man who sat at home doing this or that, mostly nothing at all.
Grandma Nurse fed and cared for him for reasons one cannot easily comprehend.
Many were utterly surprised she had never plunged a steak knife into his heart as he
chewed on a pork chop. He was a selfish man. He forgot her birthday so often that Grandma
Nurse made her way that May down to Beringer's department store all by herself to buy herself
a present celebrating her seventh decade. A lovely handbag. And each morning Grandma
Nurse made the journey from Grandview by train. She found solace in the routine,
in the orange hues reflecting off the river surface and in the ghee spooked by the train's
whistle as they batted their mighty wings from the placid orange hue into the brilliant
morning sky. It warmed her heart and she forgot all about the pork chops, if even for a time.
Each morning she also made the arduous climb up the creaking planks of the hilltop to afford
those pork chops. Halfway to the top, she would plop down and rest a spell on a bench to catch
her breath, which provided the most splendid views of the dear old river below. She loved
the vista as much as the oversized handbag which now sat upon her lap, the finest possession
she had ever owned. As she put her mirror back in her bag after checking her silver
hair, a young lady appeared seemingly out of nowhere and sat down beside her. Still
a bit out of breath, it's a beautiful morning, said the lady. What a splendid view.
Yes, it's quite lovely, said Grandma Nurse. You look very familiar, dear. Are you here
to visit a patient? She asked. I am actually here in search of a job. I am a traveling
nurse. And what is your name? asked Grandma Nurse. Amy. My name is Amy.
Filling out a temporary employment form, Nurse Bird asked, and how old are you, Amy? 24.
And where are you from? Southern Illinois. May I see your certifications, please?
Yes, they are right here, said Amy, digging through her handbag.
Hmm, Marion State Hospital. Well, I must inform you, we do things a bit differently here.
When did you want to begin? Well, as soon as possible.
I see. At some point, we will sit down and discuss our policies. But first, I assign
you Nightwatch Shift in Ward C, and we'll see where to go from there.
That evening, Amy arrived for her shift on time, and all went well. And after her shift,
she returned to her room, a routine she followed day after day, rarely venturing out and never
leaving the hilltop. Amy formed no friendships, seldom interacted with other nurses, and only
remained in the dining hall long enough to eat a large meal, after which she returned
to her room. Amy's reclusive lifestyle bothered no one, most assuming she was but a shy girl,
and many failed to even notice her at all. Bookbinder, of course, noticed Amy at once.
Their eyes first met in the dining hall. Amy spotted him staring at her from a table away.
She gave him a tiny smile in return, and from that day forth, Book could not take his eyes
off of Amy. Two weeks had passed without word of Fanny,
and Dr. Zola began to desperately hope, perhaps Fanny was passing as an ordinary member of
society undisturbed. But Fanny's antics had become a bad influence on several other patients
by now. While most who had begun running off were perfectly harmless, a good many people
did not feel safe with the patients wandering about their farms. After a patient or two,
a badly frightened woman while their husbands were off in the fields.
Hello, what are you doing here? Mr. Mann's asked the strange man he found in his barn.
Tired in a coat and undershirt only, no pants, but wearing a pair of shoes, the man said,
I have a dozen chickens here, dressed and ready for market, and I'm waiting for it
to quit raining so I can take them to town. Then he asked, where's that white horse that
belongs here? Why, it's in the pasture, said Mr. Mann's.
Well, I want to, demanded the strange man. It's an awfully chilly morning. You better
come to the house and get a cup of coffee before starting to town, said Mr. Mann's.
Once in the house, Mr. Mann's was able to call the asylum and notify them a patient
had arrived at his farm. Nurse Kate soon arrived, with a few other
attendants, and the curious farmer offered them a cup of coffee as well.
Then Kate explained to Mr. Mann's, his name is Sal. You used to be a farmer yourself,
weren't you Sal? Before moving to the hilltop? Isn't that right?
Nurse Kate instructed the attendants to stay inside and enjoy their coffee, then walked
outside with Mr. Mann's to investigate what Sal had done in the barn. For the farmer was
so surprised by his presence and so eager to calm him, he wasn't entirely sure.
They found one of his horses fully harnessed, and a dozen of his best chickens with their
heads rung off and scattered about the barn floor. But the chickens were piled together.
It was not known how long it took Sal to kill the chickens, but they had been taken from
another building some distance away, and it was supposed Sal carried them to the barn
alive one or two at a time before wringing their heads off, all the while nude from the
ways down.
The following day, a patient named Clyde, whose legs had been amputated after having
them frozen during an escape attempt from a poorhouse up north, was found missing. The
night went by and all the next day, and on the third day around noon, a telephone message
came in saying that the legless man was in a cornfield at the Walters farm four miles
to the north of the hospital. The caller further stated the man was trying to set fire to the
corn stalks and that he was afraid to go near him.
Nurse Kate went to the walkers in a buggy immediately. The road was very rough, and
the trip was a very hard one.
When she finally arrived at the farm, Clyde was gone, and the farmer did not know what
had become of him. By the time Nurse Kate returned to the hilltop, Clyde was back in
his cottage.
Clyde could evidently get over ground with his stubs, a good deal better than a horse
with legs.
Soon the press had begun to have a hay day with the patient's escapades, and Dr. Zola
dropped the paper to his desk and rubbed his eyes until they were beet red. Then there
was a knock on his door.
What is it? he asked.
Doctor, I have some bad news. Raymond's body was discovered at the bottom of the bluff
in the willow beside the tracks.
Raymond had only days prior entered a man's house, stripped himself naked, took the man's
pipe, commenced smoking, and when asked what he was doing, answered,
Get out the way. I'm the boss of this here place.
The medical examiner determined that Raymond died from a major head injury, most likely
after being hit by a train. The cerebellum was found to be softened. There was also softening
of the gray substance of the convulsions of the cerebrum, especially on the left hemisphere,
at its central lobe and superior surface.
Thank you, Kate, said the doctor. Oh, a grandma nurse would like to have a word with you.
The following day, Dr. Zola summoned nurse Amy to his office.
How are you, Amy? asked the doctor. Very pleasant, thank you. And how are you adjusting to life
at the hilltop with your duties?
Well, I rather enjoy my duties, doctor.
The doctor took a moment before pulling a letter from an envelope. I wanted to bring
a matter to your attention, Amy. I have received a letter from your mother, and she seems to
be awfully desperate to hear from you. She says that you left home on the first day of
the month to work at our institution, but that you have not written a line since. Do
you not believe you are acting a bit neglectful in your duties as a daughter?
You should write your mother immediately, he said frankly. But, doctor, Amy began to
rebuke, but determined to squash the petty ordeal at once. He interrupted her, again
insisting she write the letter immediately. He opened his desk drawer, removed a piece
of paper and pen, and set them on the desk in front of Amy. He grabbed a chair from the
corner of his office, saying, go on, have a seat. She sat, picked up the pen, and scratched
off a quick note.
I am doing well, Amy. A-M-I-E. The doctor folded it and placed the letter into a stamped
envelope, which he addressed. Now please, if you will place it in the mailbox. Amy took
the envelope and followed the doctor to the box on the wall just outside his office. She
looked up at the doctor as nurse Kate watched out of the corner of her eye. The doctor nodded
his head, and Amy dropped the envelope into the box. Thank you, that will be all, he said.
The doctor then returned to his office considering the incident resolved, and the doctor resumed
Institutional Life's daily routine, disturbed only by the thought of the sensation Fanny
might create while at large.
Seven days later, the doctor once again summoned Amy to his office. As she entered, he did
not hesitate to read off a telegram from her mother, which read,
Letter from my daughter was not written or signed by her. I am afraid she is ill, and
that the news is being withheld from me. I am coming at once. My daughter writes her
name Amy A-M-Y, and the fact that the message was signed Amy A-M-I-E confirms my suspicion.
Your mother has informed me that she will come on the first available train from Southern
Illinois. I am sure you are aware it must be an arduous trip for her. I am sure she
will arrive fatigued and overcome with nerves, said the doctor. I feel awful she must travel
all this way, but I understand her worries, and I hope upon seeing you her fears may subside.
When Amy's mother arrived, the doctor asked Nurse Kate to bring Amy to his office. The
old woman's face was as pale as her ghostly white hair, and she wore a pair of tiny round
glasses, and the long life in the dirt-poor South was evident by the drabbyness of her
attire. When there was a slight knock on the office door, the doctor stepped outside, saying
he wished not to intrude upon their reunion, and as he left, Amy walked in. She stood silently
in the corner, and Ms. Murphy, crinkling her brow, held her old worn-out purse before her
breasts.
Where is my daughter? she asked, but Amy remained silent, keeping her eyes to the floor.
Look at me, demanded Ms. Murphy. Amy looked up, and upon seeing the strange girl's eyes,
Ms. Murphy knew something was not right. The mother stood and opened the office door and
hollered, I want to see my daughter right now. Where is she? The doctor walked into
the office and shut the door behind him. What's going on here? asked Ms. Murphy. The doctor
looked at Amy with her head down in the corner, and raised his arm toward her, saying, but
this is your Amy right here. That ain't my Amy, she said. I ain't never laid eyes on
this girl a day in my life, and I certainly hadn't raised her. I should know, after all.
Growing into a panic, the mother let out a shriek, causing Nurse Kate to rush into the
office.
Ms. Murphy screamed, that's not my daughter. My daughter has green eyes, not the black
eyes of the devil. I will hold you all equally responsible and evoke the widow's curse upon
your heads.
The doctor then decided to turn to Amy for a solution. Standing at the far end of the
room, her eyes again upon the floor, well dressed in her nurse's uniform, rather stiff
and nervous, but otherwise unmovable by this heart-rending experience. As the doctor began
to question her why she refused to comfort her hysterical mother, Amy let out a maniacal
shriek, followed by a burst of hysterical laughter, before falling faint to the floor.
As she laid convulsing, her nurse's cap came off, and a blonde wig came with it. The doctor
then bent down and whispered in her ear, Fanny. Fanny opened her eyes and whimpered, oh doctor,
now come out of that fit, said Dr. Zola. I just wanted to keep this up a week longer
till payday. I was going to buy a ticket out west and never bother you again, I swear.
How did you know it was me?
Well done, Grandma. That will be all, said the doctor.
Grandma nurse smiled as she removed her own wig of white hair. She let down her long silver
locks before taking off her tiny round glasses and using a rag nurse cape provided, wiped
the excessive white foundation from her face, instantly looking two decades younger.
Damn it to hell, said Fanny, as a great battle of mind against mind ensued.
Fanny, tomorrow we will surrender you to the penitentiary, the doctor said. You were only
committed here pending your recovery, and you have failed to recover. The law must take
its course. Perhaps while reflecting in solitary confinement, you will understand how your
lack of proper reasoning has sabotaged your well-being.
Don't send me back to the pen, begged Fanny. I will die in solitary. I can't live on bread
and water alone. If you send me back, you condemn me to starving to death. Unbeknownst
to Fanny, she had just put herself in checkmate.
Fanny, I hear you are fond of the roast beef that we serve here at the hilltop. Are you
not? asked the doctor.
Why, yes, it is quite good, said Fanny with a nod.
Oh, you got me, Doc. You got me, said Fanny, in surrender.
It's time.
they all died's
still alive
you