"Walt," Bruce said as he paced around Walt Bannerman's office, "I'm telling
you, we should go find Johnny."
"And why's that?" Walt asked, leaning back in his chair.
"He's been gone all day-"
"Johnny's disappeared like this before," Walt interrupted.
"Yes, but he usually fills me in on what's going on," Bruce countered.
"Didn't he leave a note that he didn't want you or Dana tagging along?" the sheriff asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow.
"True, but I just have a really bad feeling that he's gotten into something that he shouldn't have."
"Which he does regularly. Bruce, I really think you're worrying over nothing. Johnny's probably just taking a day trip or something."
Bruce rolled his eyes. "Walt, you saw him yesterday. You know Johnny as well as I do when it comes to his visions. He won't rest until he's found what he's after, and he has a tendency to step on people's toes as he does it. I'm worried about him because ever since he got hold of that picture, he's been pretty scary about it. Plus, the visions he's been having haven't been making much sense."
"How so?" Walt asked.
"He was having visions of monsters," Bruce told him. "That's weird, even for Johnny."
Walt sighed. "I really can't abandon my post on one of your bad feelings."
"How often are my bad feelings right?"
The sheriff sighed again, and Bruce could see him struggling with dedication to his job and concern for his friend. "All right. I'm off in two hours anyway, so I'll have Roscoe cover me for the rest of the night. If I'm wasting my time, I'm going to be very unhappy."
"Thanks Walt, I owe you one," Bruce said.
"Yes, you do."
~~
Johnny woke hours later, slowly opening his eyes. It took him a minute to figure out if his eyes were open or closed; because the room was so dark, it made no difference. He blinked a few times, hoping that would allow his eyes to adjust to the darkness, but with no light coming into the room, it didn't help. There was a draft in the room, chilling it uncomfortably. He was sure if he could see in the darkness, he would've been able to see his breath.
Johnny slowly sat up, immediately regretting it as his head started to spin, causing a wave of dizziness and nausea to overwhelm him. He raised a hand to his head, hoping that would stop the pounding and spinning, but it did nothing to help the sick feeling in his stomach.
Involuntarily groaning, Johnny lowered himself back to the floor, rolling onto his back. He kept a hand on his head, somehow convinced that was helping, and closed his eyes again. Just as the sick feeling had started to die down, a door across the room flung open and slammed against the wall with a loud bang, sending another wave of agony reverberating through his skull.
Johnny groaned again, trying to pick his head up off the floor to see across the room at the door that had just opened. The piercing rays of light that came through felt like daggers in Johnny's sensitive eyes, and he brought a hand up to shield them. There was a man standing in the doorway, his silhouette outlined in the doorframe.
"Good morning, Mr. Smith," the man said in a very familiar voice.
"Where am I?" Johnny croaked, his voice sounding scratchy from a dry throat.
"That's not important," the man replied. "The important thing is that you're here. I regret having to take this step, but you dug yourself in too deep, and now it's too late to get yourself out."
The man slowly walked towards Johnny, and Johnny followed the man's movements with his eyes the best he could in the dark. His eyes were beginning to adjust to the bit of light being let in through the doorway, and finally the man's face came into view. Dr. Simmons stared down at Johnny with an insane look in his eyes and a menacing grin curling his lips.
"I don't understand," Johnny said, looking up at him. He was hoping to buy some time by having the man explain himself, and hoped that the drugged feeling clouding his thought processes would wear off. Johnny reached around himself, hoping that his cane was nearby, giving him some sort of weapon. Every movement was difficult, allowing him to only search a small area in which his cane was not located.
"Don't patronize me, Mr. Smith," the doctor said. "I know you understand perfectly. It's only a matter of time before your reporter friend uncovers the truth, and then you call in the cavalry. I'm hoping with your disappearance, the focus will be on you and allow me to slip away undetected."
"Uncovers what truth?" Johnny asked.
Dr. Simmons sighed heavily and rolled his eyes. He approached Johnny, crouching down next to him as he spoke. "As if you don't know. About me and Lillah. About Jessica. About the money. About everything."
Dr. Simmons rose quickly and began pacing around the room with long strides. Johnny tried to follow him as he moved, but his eyes and head just couldn't keep up with the man. He couldn't fight the sluggish feeling that consumed his brain, so he was content to just listen as the doctor spoke.
"I'm sure you've heard about the affair that Lillah and I had. Or did you have visions about it? Yes, Mr. Smith, I know all about you. Your friends at the sheriff's department were very helpful in giving me lots of information on you. How brave of you to risk your life so much to save others. A true hero."
"Thanks," Johnny slurred, sarcasm dripping from the word.
"You're welcome," the doctor replied almost cheerfully, as if giving himself a pat on the back. "Now as I was saying, I'm sure you know about the affair that Lillah and I had. We were so happy together, she loved me and I loved her."
"But she was married," Johnny added.
"To that miserable son of a bitch!" the doctor shouted, charging at Johnny. Johnny did his best to curl up in protection, expecting to be hit, but thankfully Dr. Simmons stopped short and the anger seemed to melt off of his face. When he started talking again, he had an air of calmness that wasn't there seconds before. "He didn't deserve her. She deserved someone who would look after her. Someone who would always be there for her."
"Meaning you."
"Of course," he replied as he resumed pacing the room. "I was always there for her, even when he wasn't."
"Then she got pregnant and that changed," Johnny croaked. Speaking was still difficult, and although his brain thought the words clearly, the message didn't seem to be fully transmitted to his lips, causing the words to sound slurred and slow.
"It shouldn't have changed things," he growled, the scowl returning. "If anything that should have tightened our bond."
Johnny didn't say anything, but Dr. Simmons looked at him expectantly, as if waiting for some answer from him. The blond didn't know what to say, because he knew if he said the wrong thing, it could put him in serious danger. When he didn't say anything, the doctor sighed and took two small steps over to where Johnny lay.
"I'll let you see for yourself," he said has he laid a hand on Johnny's shoulder.
At first, nothing happened, and Johnny thought that maybe the effects of the drug he had been given was hindering his dead zone. He was about to voice those thoughts when the scene changed and he was ripped out of the dark room. The picture wasn't as clear as it usually was, but he recognized the scene in front of him, the one he had seen in Dr. Simmons' office the day before. The old Victorian house was in front of him, and again the little girl came running out to greet him. Jessica Richardson. She seemed to move more slowly than the first time he had seen it, but Johnny knew it had to be because of the drug.
"Uncle Bobby!" the girl cried with outstretched arms, sounding as if she were underwater.
Johnny reached out his arms to catch her, and when he did, he felt something he hadn't felt the first time. Something very strong and very unexpected.
Fatherly pride.
Johnny was thrown back into the dark room, staring up into the evil eyes of Dr. Simmons.
"You're Jessica's father."
"Yes," the doctor said, flashing an insane grin. "So the stories about your abilities are true. How interesting."
Dr. Simmons moved away from Johnny again, pacing the floor. Johnny still couldn't follow his movements, and he wondered how long this feeling would last. He hoped not for much longer, because if he was going to escape, he needed to be able to think, and that was too difficult. Johnny silently wished he hadn't ditched Dana and Bruce, but it was too late for that.
"I was Jessica's father, but Lillah said she couldn't tell Mike. She cast me aside and let that bastard raise my child!"
"Now I know where the mental instability comes from in the family," Johnny thought, but knew better than to say that aloud.
"So you wanted to get back at her," he said instead.
"What man wouldn't?" Dr. Simmons continued. "She used me and just dumped me! I gave her a child that man could never give her!"
"So you decided to kill them," Johnny said. The words were getting clearer, and the numb feeling in his lips was starting to wear off.
"But I didn't kill them, Johnny. Jessica did," he laughed. "Ah, the irony. Their pride and joy was their demise."
"How'd you do it?"
"How much do you know about schizophrenics, Johnny?"
"Not much."
Dr. Simmons scoffed, as if Johnny's answer had been a personal insult. "Just like the rest of America. Everyone has their preconceptions about schizophrenics, but no one really knows what they are and how they act."
Johnny tried to sit up as the doctor walked around the room, lecturing him on his vast knowledge of the disease. Johnny didn't hear much of it, but tried to feign interest in order to keep the man occupied. The longer he spent talking, the longer Johnny had to work off the drug he had been given. Thoughts were coming more clearly now, but the nauseous feeling in the pit of his stomach refused to diminish. Johnny slowly and carefully lifted his head from the dirt floor, and it felt like a lead weight. He couldn't muster enough strength to get it more than a few inches from the floor, then let it drop again with a groan.
"Really, Johnny," the doctor said with a sigh of exasperation. "Even if you could manage to get off the floor, how far do you think you'll get? Do you think I'd just let you walk past me? And even if you did, do you think you'd make it out of here? I thought you were a more rational man than that."
"Having your life threatened sort of throws rationalization out the window," Johnny replied.
"But I haven't threatened your life," he answered matter-of-factly. "Not yet."
Johnny tried not to show fear in his eyes, hoping to distract the doctor and drag this out as long as possible. Stall for time, that's what he had to do. What more time would do, he wasn't sure. Maybe he would find an escape route. But Dr. Simmons was right; in his condition, he wouldn't get very far. Maybe help would show up to his rescue. But who? Dana? Bruce? Walt? They were all miles away in Cleaves Mills, probably not even giving him a second thought. No, he was on his own with this one.
"There's one thing I don't understand," Johnny said, and that seemed to peak the doctor's curiosity.
"And what's that?"
"How you got Jessica to kill her parents, and why you would use your own daughter like that."
"That's two things, Johnny. But it's quite simple, really. To answer your second query first, she may have been of my genes, but once that bastard corrupted her, she was no longer my daughter. She was one of them."
Johnny just looked up at him, glad that his vision was finally coming into focus, but he didn't like the look on the doctor's face. His eyes were glassy, and he saw nothing but insanity inside them.
"As I was saying before, what most people don't know about schizophrenics is that they're actually very receptive to suggestions given to those close to them."
Dr. Simmons moved around the room, kicking up little clouds of dust as he moved. He seemed to have a little bounce to his step, a cheery man telling a grim story.
"When Jessica was diagnosed as schizophrenic, Lillah came running back to me, begging me to help our daughter. She apologized profusely until I agreed to help the poor girl. So I did. I began putting Jessica on a strict regiment of drugs and therapy.
"She showed vast improvement, and Lillah was eternally grateful, as she should have been. But once Jessica's condition seemed to improve, she started to drift away from me again."
"So you decided that Jessica needed to be sick," Johnny added.
"Exactly. That was the only way to keep Lillah near me," Dr. Simmons stated in a cold tone. "She needed to realize that I wasn't going anywhere, and I controlled our daughter, not her."
"So you used Jessica to get back at her."
"Of course."
When he got nothing beyond that simple answer, Johnny knew he had to keep the conversation going. The more Dr. Simmons talked, the better his chances were.
"What led to that night?"
"You mean the night Jessica killed her parents?" the doctor asked with a smile, although he already knew the answer.
"Yes."
"A lot of work. Like I said before, not many people know much about schizophrenics, Johnny. Take them off their medication, play up on their paranoia, and it's quite easy to push them over the edge," he said with a chuckle. Johnny just looked at him wide eyed, hoping his look of shock would encourage the doctor to continue, which it did. "I slowly took Jessica off her medication. Can't do it too fast or you risk messing up everything. Slowly wean her off of it. Then in therapy, portray her parents as a threat. Make them out to be the evil she's trying to avoid. They're the ones the voices want her to destroy. Destroy them and you'll be safe. So I dropped her off that night, knowing exactly what she would do. And the police just accepted it as insane girl murders her parents."
The doctor leaned his head back and laughed out loud, the sound sending chills down Johnny's spine.
"And who would believe the ranting of an insane girl, even if she could tell them what happened?" he added with a laugh.
Dr. Simmons finally calmed down, wiping a stray tear that had formed in the corner of his eye. The smile slowly faded from his lips, and the cold glare in his eyes made Johnny shiver.
"And now that you know everything, I really can't let you go."
"I have one more question," Johnny said in desperation, knowing this was coming to a close much too soon.
"And that is?" Dr. Simmons asked, crossing his arms in impatience.
"Why keep Jessica alive in the hospital? Why not kill her too?"
"Very simple, Johnny. Money."
"So this was all about the money, then?" Johnny asked. The strength in his body was slowly returning, but much too slow for his liking. If this conversation was going to end as soon as Johnny thought it was, there was no way he would be able to get out of there. Things were looking grim, but he refused to give up.
"Not at all," the doctor replied with a smile. "The money was just a pleasant side effect. Rubbing salt into the wound. And that stupid aunt and uncle of hers never questions anything I tell them. She's started a new medication, that will cost an extra five hundred a month; new accommodations, another thousand a month."
"How much have you taken from them?"
"Just over a million dollars," he chuckled. Johnny was about to open his mouth to ask more questions, but Dr. Simmons waved at hand at him to silence him. "As much as I've enjoyed our little chat, I really must be going."
"You won't get far," Johnny told him.
"Don't be so sure of that. A million dollars can get one pretty far."
Dr. Simmons reached into his coat pocket and pulled out something Johnny had trouble recognizing until he felt a sharp pain in his arm. He felt the pressure of a needle emptying its contents into his arm, but by the time he thought to struggle, it was already running through his system.
"What was that?" Johnny asked, looking up at the man with wide eyes.
"A simple sedative," Dr. Simmons replied with a grin as he pulled the needle out. "That's what I used to bring you here. However, this sedative has some serious side effects if given in too high a dosage. Nausea, dizziness, hallucinations, and eventually death. I'm sorry it had to come to this, Johnny."
Johnny put his hands against the floor, pushing himself up into a sitting position. His head spun, but Johnny refused to give up. He continued to force his body off the floor, and Dr. Simmons watched him with a look of what Johnny thought was amusement.
Johnny's limbs felt like they were made of jell-o, wobbling unsteadily underneath him as he rose to his knees. His arms shook under the weight of his body, and he could will his body no further. His legs refused to budge from underneath him, and his arms could support no more pressure in order to stand himself up.
"A very noble effort, Mr. Smith," the doctor laughed. "But now I must leave you. I have a flight to catch."
Dr. Simmons turned back towards the doorway, and Johnny tried to focus on him, but the drugs were taking effect, making it hard to concentrate on anything. Johnny finally saw what the vision that had been haunting him was. It hadn't been a vision of what Jessica was experiencing; it had been a vision of his future, of his capture. Dr. Simmons walked to the doorway and turned back to look at Johnny one last time. The familiar silhouette watched him, and his shoulders shook in evil laughter before the door to the room slammed closed, swallowing Johnny in darkness once more.
Johnny tried hard to fight the sluggish feeling that was clouding his brain, making another desperate attempt to get to his feet. He leaned heavily on his arm to push himself to his feet, but his arm gave away, sending him tumbling to the floor. He fell on his face, getting a mouthful of dirt that sent him into a coughing fit. Johnny rolled onto his back, staring up into the darkness, trying desperately to get hold of his wandering mind.
A sick feeling rose in his stomach, and he fought hard to keep the contents of his stomach where they were. His hands began to shake uncontrollably, and soon the shaking consumed his arms and legs. Johnny heard a voice in the darkness to his right, and he snapped his head around in that direction.
"Hello?" he called into the darkness, his voice shaking with the rest of his body.
He only heard mumbling and couldn't make out any words, like in his vision, but the voices seemed to get louder. The noise seemed to move all around him, making Johnny feel trapped, and his shaking body was unwilling to move to get him out of there.
"Go away!" he shouted into the darkness. The voices didn't listen, but only increased in their intensity.
"Shut up!" he screamed.
Johnny tried to move his hands up to block his ears, but his arms would not move the way he wanted. They stayed by his side, shaking. He closed his eyes, as if that would help block out the voices, but it did nothing to help him. His body shook and seized as the poison moved through his system. He took in a shaky breath, trying to fill his lungs to keep himself calm, but the voices in the darkness got louder and more overwhelming.
They were everywhere. Surrounding him. Suffocating him.
"SHUT UP!" he cried, a desperate attempt to get them to go away.
Suddenly, the door slammed open, sending the piercing light from the other room directly into Johnny's eyes. He squinted, unable to bring his hands up to shield his eyes, but tried to make out the figure in the doorway. Johnny scooted his body back against the wall, trying to keep his distance between himself and the towering figure in the doorway.
It seemed to be at least ten feet tall, its massive body looming high above Johnny. Johnny saw four arms, and he wondered what kind of monster the doctor has sent to finish the job of killing him. He heard a roar from it in a deep voice, something that sounded like words, but at the same time sounded like an animalistic growl.
The figure rapidly approached, and Johnny screamed, hoping the intensity of his voice would scare this thing away. It had the opposite effect, and the monster approached more quickly, sprinting across the room. Johnny turned his head away, unwilling to look at it up close.
"Leave me alone!" Johnny cried, closing his eyes tightly.
"Johnny," a vaguely familiar voice said, worry and concern saturating it. Part of his brain was telling him to turn around, but the other, more powerful part, was telling him to get away.
"No!" Johnny screamed, flinging his arms up in order to fight off the predator.
The other figure grabbed his arms, pinning them at his sides, leaving him helpless to defend himself. Johnny's body shook, partially against his will, and partially due to his struggles. He had to get away. He didn't want to die.
"Johnny, look at me!" the voice said urgently.
Johnny continued to fight and struggle to the best of his ability, but he could feel the energy draining out of his body. Soon, he could barely muster the energy to breathe. Filling his lungs seemed to take more effort, and his body wasn't willing to do it anymore. He gasped as the figure took his chin in his hand, forcing Johnny to look towards him.
Johnny tried hard to concentrate on what was in front of him, but the darkness his eyes were accustomed to made the figure only seem like a shadow in front of him.
"Hang on Johnny," the figure said, but to Johnny's ears, it sounded slurred.
The figure looked back over its shoulder and shouted something, but Johnny only heard two words; "ambulance" and "hurry."
When the stranger looked back at him, Johnny was able to make out a few features that seemed familiar, something that comforted Johnny inexplicably. He saw a familiar strong jaw line, and looked slightly higher to see brown eyes that looked at him with a knowing look.
"Walt?" he choked out.
"Yeah, hang on, Johnny." the figure replied, but the rest of his words were lost in confusion.
Two other figures came rushing into the room, and Johnny's paranoia returned, sending him into another struggling fit. His body screamed in protest, unable to move the way he wanted to, and Walt's hands held Johnny still. A primal scream of fear erupted from Johnny's mouth, and the sound made Walt shudder. He'd never heard anything so pitiful and so disturbing.
"Noooooo!" Johnny cried, and then his body went slack.
His eyes were closed and his breathing was erratic, and that sent the paramedics into a frenzy.
The two paramedics quickly moved Walt out of the way, insisting that they needed to get Johnny out. The sheriff stood back and watched as his friend's body was lifted onto a portable stretcher and rushed out of the room in seconds. Walt followed them up the basement stairs that lead to an abandoned hallway in the hospital. By the time Walt made it down the hall and out the door leading to the front of the hospital, the paramedics had already loaded Johnny into the ambulance and were driving away.
Walt saw that Bruce was nowhere in sight, and figured he had leapt into the ambulance with Johnny. His feeling had been right, again. He began to wonder if some of Johnny's psychic energy had rubbed off onto his friend. Walt went to his cruiser and got in, taking a second to say a silent prayer that Johnny would be okay before starting the engine and taking off after the ambulance.
"And why's that?" Walt asked, leaning back in his chair.
"He's been gone all day-"
"Johnny's disappeared like this before," Walt interrupted.
"Yes, but he usually fills me in on what's going on," Bruce countered.
"Didn't he leave a note that he didn't want you or Dana tagging along?" the sheriff asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow.
"True, but I just have a really bad feeling that he's gotten into something that he shouldn't have."
"Which he does regularly. Bruce, I really think you're worrying over nothing. Johnny's probably just taking a day trip or something."
Bruce rolled his eyes. "Walt, you saw him yesterday. You know Johnny as well as I do when it comes to his visions. He won't rest until he's found what he's after, and he has a tendency to step on people's toes as he does it. I'm worried about him because ever since he got hold of that picture, he's been pretty scary about it. Plus, the visions he's been having haven't been making much sense."
"How so?" Walt asked.
"He was having visions of monsters," Bruce told him. "That's weird, even for Johnny."
Walt sighed. "I really can't abandon my post on one of your bad feelings."
"How often are my bad feelings right?"
The sheriff sighed again, and Bruce could see him struggling with dedication to his job and concern for his friend. "All right. I'm off in two hours anyway, so I'll have Roscoe cover me for the rest of the night. If I'm wasting my time, I'm going to be very unhappy."
"Thanks Walt, I owe you one," Bruce said.
"Yes, you do."
~~
Johnny woke hours later, slowly opening his eyes. It took him a minute to figure out if his eyes were open or closed; because the room was so dark, it made no difference. He blinked a few times, hoping that would allow his eyes to adjust to the darkness, but with no light coming into the room, it didn't help. There was a draft in the room, chilling it uncomfortably. He was sure if he could see in the darkness, he would've been able to see his breath.
Johnny slowly sat up, immediately regretting it as his head started to spin, causing a wave of dizziness and nausea to overwhelm him. He raised a hand to his head, hoping that would stop the pounding and spinning, but it did nothing to help the sick feeling in his stomach.
Involuntarily groaning, Johnny lowered himself back to the floor, rolling onto his back. He kept a hand on his head, somehow convinced that was helping, and closed his eyes again. Just as the sick feeling had started to die down, a door across the room flung open and slammed against the wall with a loud bang, sending another wave of agony reverberating through his skull.
Johnny groaned again, trying to pick his head up off the floor to see across the room at the door that had just opened. The piercing rays of light that came through felt like daggers in Johnny's sensitive eyes, and he brought a hand up to shield them. There was a man standing in the doorway, his silhouette outlined in the doorframe.
"Good morning, Mr. Smith," the man said in a very familiar voice.
"Where am I?" Johnny croaked, his voice sounding scratchy from a dry throat.
"That's not important," the man replied. "The important thing is that you're here. I regret having to take this step, but you dug yourself in too deep, and now it's too late to get yourself out."
The man slowly walked towards Johnny, and Johnny followed the man's movements with his eyes the best he could in the dark. His eyes were beginning to adjust to the bit of light being let in through the doorway, and finally the man's face came into view. Dr. Simmons stared down at Johnny with an insane look in his eyes and a menacing grin curling his lips.
"I don't understand," Johnny said, looking up at him. He was hoping to buy some time by having the man explain himself, and hoped that the drugged feeling clouding his thought processes would wear off. Johnny reached around himself, hoping that his cane was nearby, giving him some sort of weapon. Every movement was difficult, allowing him to only search a small area in which his cane was not located.
"Don't patronize me, Mr. Smith," the doctor said. "I know you understand perfectly. It's only a matter of time before your reporter friend uncovers the truth, and then you call in the cavalry. I'm hoping with your disappearance, the focus will be on you and allow me to slip away undetected."
"Uncovers what truth?" Johnny asked.
Dr. Simmons sighed heavily and rolled his eyes. He approached Johnny, crouching down next to him as he spoke. "As if you don't know. About me and Lillah. About Jessica. About the money. About everything."
Dr. Simmons rose quickly and began pacing around the room with long strides. Johnny tried to follow him as he moved, but his eyes and head just couldn't keep up with the man. He couldn't fight the sluggish feeling that consumed his brain, so he was content to just listen as the doctor spoke.
"I'm sure you've heard about the affair that Lillah and I had. Or did you have visions about it? Yes, Mr. Smith, I know all about you. Your friends at the sheriff's department were very helpful in giving me lots of information on you. How brave of you to risk your life so much to save others. A true hero."
"Thanks," Johnny slurred, sarcasm dripping from the word.
"You're welcome," the doctor replied almost cheerfully, as if giving himself a pat on the back. "Now as I was saying, I'm sure you know about the affair that Lillah and I had. We were so happy together, she loved me and I loved her."
"But she was married," Johnny added.
"To that miserable son of a bitch!" the doctor shouted, charging at Johnny. Johnny did his best to curl up in protection, expecting to be hit, but thankfully Dr. Simmons stopped short and the anger seemed to melt off of his face. When he started talking again, he had an air of calmness that wasn't there seconds before. "He didn't deserve her. She deserved someone who would look after her. Someone who would always be there for her."
"Meaning you."
"Of course," he replied as he resumed pacing the room. "I was always there for her, even when he wasn't."
"Then she got pregnant and that changed," Johnny croaked. Speaking was still difficult, and although his brain thought the words clearly, the message didn't seem to be fully transmitted to his lips, causing the words to sound slurred and slow.
"It shouldn't have changed things," he growled, the scowl returning. "If anything that should have tightened our bond."
Johnny didn't say anything, but Dr. Simmons looked at him expectantly, as if waiting for some answer from him. The blond didn't know what to say, because he knew if he said the wrong thing, it could put him in serious danger. When he didn't say anything, the doctor sighed and took two small steps over to where Johnny lay.
"I'll let you see for yourself," he said has he laid a hand on Johnny's shoulder.
At first, nothing happened, and Johnny thought that maybe the effects of the drug he had been given was hindering his dead zone. He was about to voice those thoughts when the scene changed and he was ripped out of the dark room. The picture wasn't as clear as it usually was, but he recognized the scene in front of him, the one he had seen in Dr. Simmons' office the day before. The old Victorian house was in front of him, and again the little girl came running out to greet him. Jessica Richardson. She seemed to move more slowly than the first time he had seen it, but Johnny knew it had to be because of the drug.
"Uncle Bobby!" the girl cried with outstretched arms, sounding as if she were underwater.
Johnny reached out his arms to catch her, and when he did, he felt something he hadn't felt the first time. Something very strong and very unexpected.
Fatherly pride.
Johnny was thrown back into the dark room, staring up into the evil eyes of Dr. Simmons.
"You're Jessica's father."
"Yes," the doctor said, flashing an insane grin. "So the stories about your abilities are true. How interesting."
Dr. Simmons moved away from Johnny again, pacing the floor. Johnny still couldn't follow his movements, and he wondered how long this feeling would last. He hoped not for much longer, because if he was going to escape, he needed to be able to think, and that was too difficult. Johnny silently wished he hadn't ditched Dana and Bruce, but it was too late for that.
"I was Jessica's father, but Lillah said she couldn't tell Mike. She cast me aside and let that bastard raise my child!"
"Now I know where the mental instability comes from in the family," Johnny thought, but knew better than to say that aloud.
"So you wanted to get back at her," he said instead.
"What man wouldn't?" Dr. Simmons continued. "She used me and just dumped me! I gave her a child that man could never give her!"
"So you decided to kill them," Johnny said. The words were getting clearer, and the numb feeling in his lips was starting to wear off.
"But I didn't kill them, Johnny. Jessica did," he laughed. "Ah, the irony. Their pride and joy was their demise."
"How'd you do it?"
"How much do you know about schizophrenics, Johnny?"
"Not much."
Dr. Simmons scoffed, as if Johnny's answer had been a personal insult. "Just like the rest of America. Everyone has their preconceptions about schizophrenics, but no one really knows what they are and how they act."
Johnny tried to sit up as the doctor walked around the room, lecturing him on his vast knowledge of the disease. Johnny didn't hear much of it, but tried to feign interest in order to keep the man occupied. The longer he spent talking, the longer Johnny had to work off the drug he had been given. Thoughts were coming more clearly now, but the nauseous feeling in the pit of his stomach refused to diminish. Johnny slowly and carefully lifted his head from the dirt floor, and it felt like a lead weight. He couldn't muster enough strength to get it more than a few inches from the floor, then let it drop again with a groan.
"Really, Johnny," the doctor said with a sigh of exasperation. "Even if you could manage to get off the floor, how far do you think you'll get? Do you think I'd just let you walk past me? And even if you did, do you think you'd make it out of here? I thought you were a more rational man than that."
"Having your life threatened sort of throws rationalization out the window," Johnny replied.
"But I haven't threatened your life," he answered matter-of-factly. "Not yet."
Johnny tried not to show fear in his eyes, hoping to distract the doctor and drag this out as long as possible. Stall for time, that's what he had to do. What more time would do, he wasn't sure. Maybe he would find an escape route. But Dr. Simmons was right; in his condition, he wouldn't get very far. Maybe help would show up to his rescue. But who? Dana? Bruce? Walt? They were all miles away in Cleaves Mills, probably not even giving him a second thought. No, he was on his own with this one.
"There's one thing I don't understand," Johnny said, and that seemed to peak the doctor's curiosity.
"And what's that?"
"How you got Jessica to kill her parents, and why you would use your own daughter like that."
"That's two things, Johnny. But it's quite simple, really. To answer your second query first, she may have been of my genes, but once that bastard corrupted her, she was no longer my daughter. She was one of them."
Johnny just looked up at him, glad that his vision was finally coming into focus, but he didn't like the look on the doctor's face. His eyes were glassy, and he saw nothing but insanity inside them.
"As I was saying before, what most people don't know about schizophrenics is that they're actually very receptive to suggestions given to those close to them."
Dr. Simmons moved around the room, kicking up little clouds of dust as he moved. He seemed to have a little bounce to his step, a cheery man telling a grim story.
"When Jessica was diagnosed as schizophrenic, Lillah came running back to me, begging me to help our daughter. She apologized profusely until I agreed to help the poor girl. So I did. I began putting Jessica on a strict regiment of drugs and therapy.
"She showed vast improvement, and Lillah was eternally grateful, as she should have been. But once Jessica's condition seemed to improve, she started to drift away from me again."
"So you decided that Jessica needed to be sick," Johnny added.
"Exactly. That was the only way to keep Lillah near me," Dr. Simmons stated in a cold tone. "She needed to realize that I wasn't going anywhere, and I controlled our daughter, not her."
"So you used Jessica to get back at her."
"Of course."
When he got nothing beyond that simple answer, Johnny knew he had to keep the conversation going. The more Dr. Simmons talked, the better his chances were.
"What led to that night?"
"You mean the night Jessica killed her parents?" the doctor asked with a smile, although he already knew the answer.
"Yes."
"A lot of work. Like I said before, not many people know much about schizophrenics, Johnny. Take them off their medication, play up on their paranoia, and it's quite easy to push them over the edge," he said with a chuckle. Johnny just looked at him wide eyed, hoping his look of shock would encourage the doctor to continue, which it did. "I slowly took Jessica off her medication. Can't do it too fast or you risk messing up everything. Slowly wean her off of it. Then in therapy, portray her parents as a threat. Make them out to be the evil she's trying to avoid. They're the ones the voices want her to destroy. Destroy them and you'll be safe. So I dropped her off that night, knowing exactly what she would do. And the police just accepted it as insane girl murders her parents."
The doctor leaned his head back and laughed out loud, the sound sending chills down Johnny's spine.
"And who would believe the ranting of an insane girl, even if she could tell them what happened?" he added with a laugh.
Dr. Simmons finally calmed down, wiping a stray tear that had formed in the corner of his eye. The smile slowly faded from his lips, and the cold glare in his eyes made Johnny shiver.
"And now that you know everything, I really can't let you go."
"I have one more question," Johnny said in desperation, knowing this was coming to a close much too soon.
"And that is?" Dr. Simmons asked, crossing his arms in impatience.
"Why keep Jessica alive in the hospital? Why not kill her too?"
"Very simple, Johnny. Money."
"So this was all about the money, then?" Johnny asked. The strength in his body was slowly returning, but much too slow for his liking. If this conversation was going to end as soon as Johnny thought it was, there was no way he would be able to get out of there. Things were looking grim, but he refused to give up.
"Not at all," the doctor replied with a smile. "The money was just a pleasant side effect. Rubbing salt into the wound. And that stupid aunt and uncle of hers never questions anything I tell them. She's started a new medication, that will cost an extra five hundred a month; new accommodations, another thousand a month."
"How much have you taken from them?"
"Just over a million dollars," he chuckled. Johnny was about to open his mouth to ask more questions, but Dr. Simmons waved at hand at him to silence him. "As much as I've enjoyed our little chat, I really must be going."
"You won't get far," Johnny told him.
"Don't be so sure of that. A million dollars can get one pretty far."
Dr. Simmons reached into his coat pocket and pulled out something Johnny had trouble recognizing until he felt a sharp pain in his arm. He felt the pressure of a needle emptying its contents into his arm, but by the time he thought to struggle, it was already running through his system.
"What was that?" Johnny asked, looking up at the man with wide eyes.
"A simple sedative," Dr. Simmons replied with a grin as he pulled the needle out. "That's what I used to bring you here. However, this sedative has some serious side effects if given in too high a dosage. Nausea, dizziness, hallucinations, and eventually death. I'm sorry it had to come to this, Johnny."
Johnny put his hands against the floor, pushing himself up into a sitting position. His head spun, but Johnny refused to give up. He continued to force his body off the floor, and Dr. Simmons watched him with a look of what Johnny thought was amusement.
Johnny's limbs felt like they were made of jell-o, wobbling unsteadily underneath him as he rose to his knees. His arms shook under the weight of his body, and he could will his body no further. His legs refused to budge from underneath him, and his arms could support no more pressure in order to stand himself up.
"A very noble effort, Mr. Smith," the doctor laughed. "But now I must leave you. I have a flight to catch."
Dr. Simmons turned back towards the doorway, and Johnny tried to focus on him, but the drugs were taking effect, making it hard to concentrate on anything. Johnny finally saw what the vision that had been haunting him was. It hadn't been a vision of what Jessica was experiencing; it had been a vision of his future, of his capture. Dr. Simmons walked to the doorway and turned back to look at Johnny one last time. The familiar silhouette watched him, and his shoulders shook in evil laughter before the door to the room slammed closed, swallowing Johnny in darkness once more.
Johnny tried hard to fight the sluggish feeling that was clouding his brain, making another desperate attempt to get to his feet. He leaned heavily on his arm to push himself to his feet, but his arm gave away, sending him tumbling to the floor. He fell on his face, getting a mouthful of dirt that sent him into a coughing fit. Johnny rolled onto his back, staring up into the darkness, trying desperately to get hold of his wandering mind.
A sick feeling rose in his stomach, and he fought hard to keep the contents of his stomach where they were. His hands began to shake uncontrollably, and soon the shaking consumed his arms and legs. Johnny heard a voice in the darkness to his right, and he snapped his head around in that direction.
"Hello?" he called into the darkness, his voice shaking with the rest of his body.
He only heard mumbling and couldn't make out any words, like in his vision, but the voices seemed to get louder. The noise seemed to move all around him, making Johnny feel trapped, and his shaking body was unwilling to move to get him out of there.
"Go away!" he shouted into the darkness. The voices didn't listen, but only increased in their intensity.
"Shut up!" he screamed.
Johnny tried to move his hands up to block his ears, but his arms would not move the way he wanted. They stayed by his side, shaking. He closed his eyes, as if that would help block out the voices, but it did nothing to help him. His body shook and seized as the poison moved through his system. He took in a shaky breath, trying to fill his lungs to keep himself calm, but the voices in the darkness got louder and more overwhelming.
They were everywhere. Surrounding him. Suffocating him.
"SHUT UP!" he cried, a desperate attempt to get them to go away.
Suddenly, the door slammed open, sending the piercing light from the other room directly into Johnny's eyes. He squinted, unable to bring his hands up to shield his eyes, but tried to make out the figure in the doorway. Johnny scooted his body back against the wall, trying to keep his distance between himself and the towering figure in the doorway.
It seemed to be at least ten feet tall, its massive body looming high above Johnny. Johnny saw four arms, and he wondered what kind of monster the doctor has sent to finish the job of killing him. He heard a roar from it in a deep voice, something that sounded like words, but at the same time sounded like an animalistic growl.
The figure rapidly approached, and Johnny screamed, hoping the intensity of his voice would scare this thing away. It had the opposite effect, and the monster approached more quickly, sprinting across the room. Johnny turned his head away, unwilling to look at it up close.
"Leave me alone!" Johnny cried, closing his eyes tightly.
"Johnny," a vaguely familiar voice said, worry and concern saturating it. Part of his brain was telling him to turn around, but the other, more powerful part, was telling him to get away.
"No!" Johnny screamed, flinging his arms up in order to fight off the predator.
The other figure grabbed his arms, pinning them at his sides, leaving him helpless to defend himself. Johnny's body shook, partially against his will, and partially due to his struggles. He had to get away. He didn't want to die.
"Johnny, look at me!" the voice said urgently.
Johnny continued to fight and struggle to the best of his ability, but he could feel the energy draining out of his body. Soon, he could barely muster the energy to breathe. Filling his lungs seemed to take more effort, and his body wasn't willing to do it anymore. He gasped as the figure took his chin in his hand, forcing Johnny to look towards him.
Johnny tried hard to concentrate on what was in front of him, but the darkness his eyes were accustomed to made the figure only seem like a shadow in front of him.
"Hang on Johnny," the figure said, but to Johnny's ears, it sounded slurred.
The figure looked back over its shoulder and shouted something, but Johnny only heard two words; "ambulance" and "hurry."
When the stranger looked back at him, Johnny was able to make out a few features that seemed familiar, something that comforted Johnny inexplicably. He saw a familiar strong jaw line, and looked slightly higher to see brown eyes that looked at him with a knowing look.
"Walt?" he choked out.
"Yeah, hang on, Johnny." the figure replied, but the rest of his words were lost in confusion.
Two other figures came rushing into the room, and Johnny's paranoia returned, sending him into another struggling fit. His body screamed in protest, unable to move the way he wanted to, and Walt's hands held Johnny still. A primal scream of fear erupted from Johnny's mouth, and the sound made Walt shudder. He'd never heard anything so pitiful and so disturbing.
"Noooooo!" Johnny cried, and then his body went slack.
His eyes were closed and his breathing was erratic, and that sent the paramedics into a frenzy.
The two paramedics quickly moved Walt out of the way, insisting that they needed to get Johnny out. The sheriff stood back and watched as his friend's body was lifted onto a portable stretcher and rushed out of the room in seconds. Walt followed them up the basement stairs that lead to an abandoned hallway in the hospital. By the time Walt made it down the hall and out the door leading to the front of the hospital, the paramedics had already loaded Johnny into the ambulance and were driving away.
Walt saw that Bruce was nowhere in sight, and figured he had leapt into the ambulance with Johnny. His feeling had been right, again. He began to wonder if some of Johnny's psychic energy had rubbed off onto his friend. Walt went to his cruiser and got in, taking a second to say a silent prayer that Johnny would be okay before starting the engine and taking off after the ambulance.