To read from the beginning, click the photos on the right.
The building seemed to be a back-of-the-lot storage area housing a metal closet resembling a meat locker. Row upon row of shelves lined the walls, holding medical and mechanical odds and ends – plastic and metal tubing, switches, old smocks and blankets, and various strange metallic gadgets unknown to Maria. A stack of cardboard boxes, each about three feet wide, seven feet in length and two feet tall were stacked against the far wall, and Maria shivered, realizing that the boxes were coffin-sized. Without ceremony or deference, the men dumped Johanna’s body into one of the boxes and lugged it inside of the metal closet and slammed the heavy door shut.
“May I stay with her a minute?” asked Maria.
“Better not,” said Vince. “We’re really not supposed to bring people out here.”
So Maria prayed a quick prayer, and left with the men.
Outside, Maria paused. Vince locked the shed, checking the lock, and the two men waited for her to get into the van, Vince stamping his foot impatiently. “I’d rather walk back,” she said, turning her steps toward the institute.
“Suit yourself,” Stanley huffed.
“We really shouldn’t let her…” Vince started to say.
“What’s she going to do? Steal the body? Just get in the van.” A minute later, Stanley gunned the engine, and the Maria watched the van passing her on the dusty road.
Johanna’s mind burst out of its oblivion as a new hallucination followed:
The house was old with many rooms and Johanna wandered through them unafraid, opening doors and peering into cupboards.
The boards on the steps creaked under her feet, and an icy chill flew up the stairway as she climbed it. She shivered as wind brushed her soaked skin, and she considered turning back but knew that she had to go on. In the attic, a canopy of oak branches formed the ceiling, and shaggy, moss -covered rock hugged the wall. And Johanna sat on a rock not wanting to get up ever. But she had to. She had to see what was below, and so she descended, dreading the rooms in the basement.
There was only one door and it had a smiley face next to it, and Johanna felt revulsion touching the knob, but went inside. It was that office, with bare cement blocks replacing the chair and couch. And she stared at Dr. Heckleweit but couldn’t see his face – only shadow.
He spoke with a Middle Eastern accent, and the words blurred like runny Jell-O. “In here, Johanna, you’ll find that God is dead.” Johanna’s mind exploded with impressions of burning pain. The cement melted into oily pools. And she stared. One of the pools caught fire. A hose lay just outside the door. And she stared as paper and drapes jumped alive with orange flame, and now she saw his face clearly. The blaze caught at the fringe of his coat, and still she sat watching. The sound of running water jingled just outside the door.
Flames caught her gown. She felt the heat and the burn, and still she sat not moving, willing them both to be consumed. Fire burning around the two of them, consuming both, the doctor and Johanna, and she couldn’t make a move towards the water.
And God said, “Johanna, get the water.”
And she heard and sat, stubborn, wallowing in the pain that was now more her own creation than his.
The building seemed to be a back-of-the-lot storage area housing a metal closet resembling a meat locker. Row upon row of shelves lined the walls, holding medical and mechanical odds and ends – plastic and metal tubing, switches, old smocks and blankets, and various strange metallic gadgets unknown to Maria. A stack of cardboard boxes, each about three feet wide, seven feet in length and two feet tall were stacked against the far wall, and Maria shivered, realizing that the boxes were coffin-sized. Without ceremony or deference, the men dumped Johanna’s body into one of the boxes and lugged it inside of the metal closet and slammed the heavy door shut.
“May I stay with her a minute?” asked Maria.
“Better not,” said Vince. “We’re really not supposed to bring people out here.”
So Maria prayed a quick prayer, and left with the men.
Outside, Maria paused. Vince locked the shed, checking the lock, and the two men waited for her to get into the van, Vince stamping his foot impatiently. “I’d rather walk back,” she said, turning her steps toward the institute.
“Suit yourself,” Stanley huffed.
“We really shouldn’t let her…” Vince started to say.
“What’s she going to do? Steal the body? Just get in the van.” A minute later, Stanley gunned the engine, and the Maria watched the van passing her on the dusty road.
Johanna’s mind burst out of its oblivion as a new hallucination followed:
The house was old with many rooms and Johanna wandered through them unafraid, opening doors and peering into cupboards.
The boards on the steps creaked under her feet, and an icy chill flew up the stairway as she climbed it. She shivered as wind brushed her soaked skin, and she considered turning back but knew that she had to go on. In the attic, a canopy of oak branches formed the ceiling, and shaggy, moss -covered rock hugged the wall. And Johanna sat on a rock not wanting to get up ever. But she had to. She had to see what was below, and so she descended, dreading the rooms in the basement.
There was only one door and it had a smiley face next to it, and Johanna felt revulsion touching the knob, but went inside. It was that office, with bare cement blocks replacing the chair and couch. And she stared at Dr. Heckleweit but couldn’t see his face – only shadow.
He spoke with a Middle Eastern accent, and the words blurred like runny Jell-O. “In here, Johanna, you’ll find that God is dead.” Johanna’s mind exploded with impressions of burning pain. The cement melted into oily pools. And she stared. One of the pools caught fire. A hose lay just outside the door. And she stared as paper and drapes jumped alive with orange flame, and now she saw his face clearly. The blaze caught at the fringe of his coat, and still she sat watching. The sound of running water jingled just outside the door.
Flames caught her gown. She felt the heat and the burn, and still she sat not moving, willing them both to be consumed. Fire burning around the two of them, consuming both, the doctor and Johanna, and she couldn’t make a move towards the water.
And God said, “Johanna, get the water.”
And she heard and sat, stubborn, wallowing in the pain that was now more her own creation than his.
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