Separation Anxiety
Part Six
"You visited Mork, didn't you?" Dr. Feldman asked as Mindy left the hospital, startling her. She didn't know what to say to him, staring at him.
"Admit it Mindy—you're starting to remember. Dr. Friedman's organization may be powerful, but it still has its limitations. You'll see. In time, you will begin to remember. As for Mork, my men have already infiltrated the hospital. We're working on a plan to rescue him. We discovered that the drug Dr. Friedman has been giving Mork suppresses his powers, but its effects are only temporary."
If Mindy hadn't seen the phantom checker piece move on its own, she would have continued to believe that this man belonged in the hospital building behind her. After what she had witnessed and what Mork told her, she began to wonder if there actually was some truth behind the bizarre story. Still, something about him made her uncomfortable. Unsure how to respond to him, she smiled and nodded politely, walking down the street away from him. Dr. Feldman watched her leave, not insulted by her behavior, knowing she wasn't to blame.
"Soon Mindy," he said. "Very soon, you and Mork will be home."
Mindy waited for Alan at his practice, the receptionist allowing her to be in his private office where he consulted clients since she was his wife, which gave her easy access to his patient files. She knew that it was possible that the hospital had information on Mork instead of Alan, regretting that she hadn't spent more time at the hospital to try to find his records. Still, she knew there was a chance that he might have some file on Mork at his office as well, since he was his patient. Making sure no one was watching her, she began to open his filing cabinets, rifling through the folders until she did find one labeled with Mork's name. Once again glancing around to make sure she was alone, she pulled out the file and read it.
The patient is diagnosed as a paranoid schizophrenic with a history of violent psychotic episodes, it read. The patient has delusions, including the belief he is an alien and has a human girlfriend named Mindy.
Beyond this rather bland and generic description, she found little of interest. It almost read as if it had been written by rote, as if to satisfy the requirement for a patient file. It sounded so removed and distant from its subject that she began to wonder if he had ever counseled Mork at all. His file read more like a psychology paper than an actual case history. She found its impersonal tone disturbing, as if he was trying to hide what was really going on with Mork. She thought about that strange man that kept following her, telling her about Mork's powers and some powerful, secret organization. Once again, she was plagued by doubt, wondering if what he said was true, wondering if her entire life with Alan was a complete fabrication.
"Hello, Dr. Friedman," the receptionist said outside the private office, alerting Mindy. "Your wife is waiting for you in your office."
"Thank you, Mary," she heard Alan say.
Quickly, she placed Mork's file back in the filing cabinet and sat down in one of the chairs opposite his desk, maintaining her composure. When Alan entered, she looked up at him and smiled.
"Oh, well, this is a pleasant surprise," he said.
"I just thought I'd stop by to say hello and see how your day is going," Mindy said, doing her best to remain calm.
Alan nodded, gently closing the doors to his office. He stood behind Mindy, rubbing her shoulders.
"You're tense," he said. "What's the matter?"
"Oh, nothing."
The force of his rub became harder. Mindy squirmed uncomfortably.
"Alan, that's a little rough," she said. "You're hurting me."
Alan ignored her, continuing to apply pressure to her shoulders.
"I said that's enough," Mindy said, struggling beneath his firm grasp.
She tried to stand, but he pushed her back down into the chair.
"I know you visited Mork today at the hospital," he said.
"How did you know that?"
"Mindy, please. He's my patient. What did he tell you? More of his nonsense about how he knows you?"
"Whatever happened to doctor-patient confidentiality?"
Alan scoffed. "You're not a doctor," he said. "What were you doing there?"
"I wanted to talk to him. I'm still considering studying psychiatry, and I thought he would be an interesting patient to talk to and learn from."
"If you want to talk to a patient, I know quite a few who are a lot less dangerous. He could have killed you."
"He doesn't seem like the type."
"Mindy, who is his doctor? Who do you think is a better judge of his condition—you, or me? The next time you want to talk to a patient, ask me first and I will arrange it. As it stands now, you abused my authority to gain access to one of my patients. That's a breach in ethics. If the hospital ever finds out, my career will be in serious jeopardy."
"I'm sorry."
Alan smiled, releasing the pressure from her shoulders. He returned to gently massaging them.
"I know you are," he said. "You were just curious."
Mindy relaxed, releasing a deep breath in relief. "You are right about him, you know," she said, hoping to convince him that there was nothing suspicious about her visit. "The poor man is deeply disturbed. I guess I just wanted to help him."
"Well, you leave the helping to me," Alan said. "I'm a professional. Mork is receiving excellent care, don't worry. Now, how about dinner tonight? I think both of us could use a relaxing night out."
Mindy began to realize that he didn't suspect anything. Now both she and Mork would be safe, and she could leave his rescue to the strange man she kept encountering, hoping he was right.
"That sounds great," she said.
As Alan continued to rub her shoulders, her discomfort returned. This time, it had nothing to do with the amount of pressure he was applying. Instead, she had a vivid memory of him injecting her with some strange liquid. It was a mere fragment in time, a brief, momentary flash, but she remembered it clearly, the image haunting and disturbing her. It frightened and confused her, and she wondered if it was a part of her life that she was missing, that she had forgotten. Once again, she found herself confronting the idea that perhaps Alan wasn't who she thought he was at all.
When they went to dinner, they had barely sat down at their table when the maître'd approached Alan and whispered in his ear.
"I have a phone call," he said to Mindy. "Excuse me."
Mindy waited for him patiently, but he never returned.
Several of Dr. Feldman's men, disguised as nurses and orderlies, entered Mork's room at the hospital. They found him strapped to his bed, heavily drugged.
"My God, what have they done to you?" Dr. Feldman asked.
He motioned for the orderlies to enter with a gurney.
"Help me get him out of these restraints and transfer him to the gurney. We're getting him out of here."
Obeying his orders, they loosened the straps holding Mork until they were completely undone. Carefully, they lifted his limp body onto the gurney, the motion causing him to stir slightly and moan.
"It's all right, Mork, you're going to be fine," Dr. Feldman said, placing his hand gently on Mork's head and smiling. "You're safe now. We're taking you home."
He wasn't sure Mork heard him, his eyes half-open and glazed before they closed again and he settled back into his drugged stupor on the gurney. Still, he wanted him to know that someone was there for him. He only hoped they weren't too late, that they could reverse the damage that Dr. Friedman had caused. He covered Mork's supine body with a sheet, trying to make him as comfortable as possible as they began to move him, wondering if he was aware of anything in the haze of his drug addled mind. As they rolled him down the corridor, they were met with little resistance. In their uniforms, wheeling a patient on a gurney, they looked as if they belonged there on official business, inconspicuous. It wasn't until they reached a belligerent security guard at the front desk station that they began to arouse suspicion, his enormous, bulky frame blocking their path to the exit.
"What are you doing with that patient?" He asked.
"We are transferring him to another facility," Dr. Feldman said. "I am a colleague of Dr. Friedman's, and he arranged the move."
Mork released a plaintive whimper and squirmed. Those on Dr. Feldman's team disguised as nurses made soothing noises to him, trying to keep him calm.
The security guard studied Dr. Feldman closely. In his white lab coat, he looked authorized to be there, but he still had his doubts.
"Let me see your paperwork," he said.
"Of course," Dr. Feldman said, brandishing his file.
The security guard inspected every document in the file. When he was finished, he appeared satisfied that it was legitimate, handing it back to Dr. Feldman.
"All right, you can go ahead," he said.
Relieved, Dr. Feldman and his team continued toward the exit unhindered. Once they were outside at the hospital's entrance, they loaded Mork onto one of their government vehicles that had been transformed to look like an ambulance, securing him before closing the doors. Dr. Feldman nodded to the driver, signaling that Mork was ready for transport. As they drove away, Dr. Feldman watched, relieved that Mork was now free, their operation successful. Still, there was one issue that had been left unresolved, and that was the capture of Dr. Friedman. His radio, concealed beneath his lab coat, crackled to life. Anxiously, he answered it, hoping his men had managed to locate the doctor and take him into custody.
"Did you find him?" He asked.
"Negative, Doctor," the voice on the other end said, distorted by interference and static.
"What do you mean? You didn't find him?"
"That's correct, Sir. His office has been vacated. It's completely empty."
"Well, did you look anywhere else?"
"We were tracking him, but somehow he managed to disappear. He's gone."
"Well, keep looking for him," Dr. Feldman said. "I cannot stress enough to you the importance of bringing him in. Find him, and soon."
"Yes, Sir."
The transmission ended. Dr. Feldman watched as the ambulance carrying Mork disappeared down the street. He was safe for now, but until they found Dr. Friedman, that safety was in jeopardy.