Angels and Operators: It Was an Instinct
Installment Eighty
Previous Installments (In Reverse Order)
You awaken in your small dorm-like room in the Mercy Lake Center. Crazy old Brandon Slayton is knocking on your door. “You're on TV again!” he calls.
You've seen the report before, but stir yourself, just to be obliging. The other patients like your newfound celebrity, and it feels churlish not to seem as excited as they are. In the new pair of slippers your mother bought you, you pad out to the common room. There you are, on the big screen TV that now sits in the corner, being interviewed by Nicole Chernin, magazine correspondent for your favorite news source, CBC Newsworld.
In the TV image, they've lit you and made you up ever so slightly. You appear level-headed, confident, even handsome in your non-threatening plaid flannel shirt and jeans. Only a hint of a nervous tic suggests that you're the sort of person who winds up at Mercy Lake.
Nicole Chernin leans forward, a concerned look on her face. (When you did the interview, you were surprised that she retaped her answers after she finished with you, there being only one camera. When she really asked you the question, she was more casual and relaxed.) “Tell us, Stephen, just how did you sense that Pierce Verness and Dominic LaRoche were the Don River Killers?”
Your TV image shifts uncomfortably in the chair. “I just did, that's all. It was an instinct. When I first saw them, I knew, in my schizophrenic state, that there was something wrong with them.” You chuckle. “Of course, I was hallucinating at the time, so whatever signals I was picking up on, I interpreted in a weird way.”
Chernin leans in. “What do you mean?”
“I thought they were aliens or whatever.”
“But what they turned out to be were notorious serial killers, with a torture den in the basement. And if it weren't for your dogged pursuit of them, in a world that wouldn't-couldn't-believe you, they'd still be at large right now.”
The report cuts to another interview, this time with Judy. She's looking healthier and happier than when Steve knew her. Certainly she looks better than she did when she came back to Pierce's house, to find him dead in his wheelchair and a stunned Dom in the basement. For a moment, when you saw the color drain from her face, you thought you'd done the wrong thing by waiting for her and telling her the truth. As she quickly dialed 911, you thought perhaps she was going to turn you in for murder. Only months later, at Dom's trial, did she tell you that you'd made the right decision in a bad situation. If you'd come to the door to keep her away from the horrors inside, she would have freaked out even worse. It meant a lot to her, she'd explained, that you trusted her to be strong, and to understand.
“That's the funny thing,” says the televised Judy, “He was my boyfriend, and I never suspected a thing. When he told me never to look in his basement, I thought he was being controlling, yes. Irrational, yes. But a serial killer? I never dreamed it. But Stephen, as troubled as he was, somehow he was attuned to it.”
“Do you think Stephen Ziffer saved your life?”
“Absolutely,” she says.
“And that's why you stood up for him at his competency hearing?”
“His mother wanted him involuntarily committed. I couldn't stand for that. He may see the world in a different way, when he's off his meds, but he'd never hurt anybody.”
A glance reveals the ridge of scar tissue on your wrist, marking the spot where your hand was reattached. You did hurt one person-yourself, as your mother kept pointing out. But nobody except her wanted to read a headline that said Discoverer Of Don River Killers Committed To Mental Institution.
The interview cuts back to you. “Sure, I appreciate the irony of it. When I was sane, I didn't know where to turn or what to do. To save Judy, and who knows how many other future victims, I had to be crazy. I don't agree with people who say I'm a hero, but if they're right, it's because I'm mentally ill, not despite it." You laugh knowingly. “Which sounds nuts, I know. Believe me, I know.”
The reminder of Judy sends you back to your room, where you fire up your laptop and check your email. You hope for a message for her, but it's been a while since she's sent one. She's started a new life for herself in her home town, out in Nova Scotia. Last time she seemed to hint that she'd found a good man to be with. You wished her luck, and meant it. She doesn't have a warrior fetus in her thumb, of course. Now, though, she has a chance at a decent life, and you don't think it's immodest to think that your intervention had something to do with it.
You head out to the hall for some water. The meds that keep you from hallucinating have dried your mouth, as usual. You smile at Miss Shore as she passes, happy that the world seems boring and normal.
But when you sense trouble out there in the world, you might need to go out there and do battle with it again. To do that, naturally, you'll have to go off the meds.
That's the only way you can see the evil.
-THE END-
Under the hood
32% of respondents wanted to wait calmly for Judy and tell her everything, compared to 27% who preferred to go to the door and warn Judy to wait outside. 18% wanted to flee out the back door. 12% wanted to call 911; 11% to hide in the basement (presumably to confront an awakening Dom.)
I'll have a series of thoughts on the blog game format and what I learned from Angels and Operators, which I'll get to soon. In the meantime, I'd like to thank all of the participants, especially those who stayed with it over its very long run.