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Chapter 10

All I want is a cup of coffee.

Trip rubbed a hand over his forehead. There was a dull pain throbbing just over his left eyebrow, had been there since he had woken up, and it was growing worse by the minute.

Lack of sleep'll do it to ya.

Even his thoughts were sluggish, he noticed as he trudged down the hallway after Malcolm and Toby. Wake-up call at six, a quick, rushed shower, then off to breakfast, and he had gotten three hours of sleep at the most. The dream, or rather the memory of it, had kept him awake, and when he had finally nodded off, his sleep had not been easy. He couldn't remember if there had been any other nightmares; certainly none as bad as the one about the white hallway and the cold thing on his neck. Still, he hadn't succeeded in getting much rest for the remainder of the night, and it was starting to make itself felt.

Coffee. Now. I'll have it intravenously if necessary; anything to get the caffeine flowing.

Trip inwardly crossed his fingers that they did serve coffee at this place - preferably black, and preferably with enough caffeine to give him palpitations. He didn't care about the heart attack, as long as the stuff succeeded in waking him up.

"You the new guys?"

Trip looked up. The man who had addressed him was tall, at least a head taller than he, his green patient's garb barely covering his wrists. His face was dark, with high-set cheekbones and black eyes that had sunken deep into their sockets. Even so, they looked surprisingly awake and aware of everything that was going on.

"Yeah," Trip said. So far, he had only spared a few short glances at the other patients, who looked as tired as he felt. This man, however, seemed oblivious to the general sleepiness.

"I'm Chayton Cordier," he introduced himself.

Trip took the hand that was offered to him. "I'm Trip Tucker, and this is Malcolm Reed," he said. Chayton nodded and held out his hand to Malcolm, who shook it as well.

"Nice to meet you."

"Trip?" Toby repeated, frowning. "That some sort of nickname?"

Before Trip could say anything in response, someone clapped his shoulder from behind. "Sure it's a nickname. Or should I say it's a description of what you been doin' to get yourself into this place, Trippy boy?"

Lendon. He was grinning, obviously delighted with his own wit. Trip shrugged the nurse's hand off his shoulder and turned away.

Just what I needed to make this day perfect.

"What is it?" Lendon asked. "Cat got your tongue? Or do you have a problem with basic manners?"

Trip closed his eyes, counting to ten until he turned around to look at the man. "I'm not the one with the problem," he said, careful to keep his voice calm. Lendon's grin faded.

"You be careful," he said quietly. "You just be careful. I ain't taking none of your shit, so you better watch out." He glared at Malcolm, Chayton and Toby, who had been watching the little exchange. "What are you looking at, huh? Get your asses to the common room, now!"

Toby obeyed immediately, looking scared. Chayton, though, gave Lendon a long look before he turned away and to Trip's surprise, the nurse let it go, merely waving an impatient hand for them to get moving.

As they entered the common room, most of the other patients were already assembled around the two tables. Two of them, a large man with red hair and an old Asian with horn-rimmed glasses, were handing out plates and cups from a trolley. On the table stood several baskets with toast and three large thermal pots, which Trip hoped contained the coffee that would cure his headache.

He sat down next to Malcolm and Toby, who ducked his head as Lendon passed by his chair. The nurse ignored him and went over to talk to another man in a nurse uniform, who was supervising the two men with the trolley. Lendon pointed at him and Malcolm, and the other nurse, a stocky man with short black hair, nodded.

"That's Sam Moreno," Chayton said. He had taken a seat next to Trip, looking ridiculously tall on the small plastic chair. He nodded at the stocky nurse. "He's not going to introduce himself to you, but he's okay. Friend of Owens'."

Trip nodded. "What's Lendon's problem?" he asked quietly.

Chayton helped himself to a piece of toast. "No idea. He hasn't been here for long. Tried picking on me too, but when I threatened to curse him, he stopped."

"Curse him?" Malcolm repeated. "How?"

Chayton's face was perfectly straight as he answered. "Curse of the Falcon."

Trip, thinking of Toby's invisible rays, tried to keep his voice neutral. "Really?"

Chayton raised an eyebrow at him. "You think I'm crazy?"

"Um, no." Trip was a little embarrassed at being seen through so easily. "I mean, it does sound a little... unusual..."

Chayton grinned. "I made it up. Lendon pretends he doesn't believe in it, but when he found the bloodstained feather in his locker, he called in sick the next day. After that, I never had any trouble with him. Even stopped calling me "Chief"."

Trip couldn't help it; he burst out laughing. Malcolm chuckled as well.

"Good idea," he said. "Maybe we should try something like that ourselves."

Trip grinned and wanted to add something when he saw the look on Toby's face. The man threw a quick glance at Lendon, then lowered his head even further and began to pluck his toast apart. Looking at Lendon, who was still talking to his colleague, then back at Toby with his nose almost touching his plate, Trip wondered if anything had happened between the two of them and if so, what it had been. It was obvious that their roommate was scared to death of Paul Lendon.

Trip decided against another joke at the nurse's expense and turned to Malcolm instead.

"Would you pass the coffee, please?"

Chayton laughed when Malcolm reached for one of the thermal pots. "Coffee? That's tea, peppermint tea, to be exact. We don't get coffee here except on special occasions. Tea and toast, that's it."

Great. Trip poured the tea into his cup and began to munch on his toast, which had never seen a toaster from the inside. He really shouldn't be complaining; after almost starving out there on the streets, this was still a feast. Still, remembering the sumptuous breakfast buffet back at the hospital, he couldn't help feeling a little disappointed.

While he ate, Chayton quietly introduced everyone who lived on Ward 4, which was home to fifteen patients, two of which were permanently confined to their rooms. Chayton only shrugged when Trip asked him why. "They're dangerous," he said. "One of them killed a fellow patient a year ago, the other one attacks everyone who goes near him. Only the doctors and Owens go in there. They know how to deal with him."

He moved on to present company, saying a word or two about every one of the men. Trip noticed that only few of them showed outer signs of mental instability, like old Parker Greene who constantly muttered into his cup or Jamel Hunter, who according to Chayton hadn't spoken to anyone in three years.

"He said shit when Toby slipped and hit him with the trolley," Chayton said. "That was about two years ago. After that… nothing. Not a word."

Most of their fellow patients, however, seemed as normal as they came… or at least not dangerously crazy. They were a quiet bunch, talking softly among each other or not at all, sneaking the occasional curious glance at the newcomers. So far, Chayton and Toby were the only ones who had spoken to them at all.

"Finish up, guys!" Sam Moreno called out. He nodded at the two patients who had handed out the dishes. "Frank, Akashi, you two clear the table, then join us downstairs. Hurry up, okay?"

The two men nodded, and, with the air of experienced waiters, began to whisk the plates and cups off the table, ignoring Parker Greene's protests that he wasn't done yet. Another patient, almost as old as Greene himself, helped him to his feet and led him over to the sofa in the back of the room.

"…all right, I'll get you another cup," Trip could hear him say as he helped Greene get comfortable.

"Guys, we're running late! Now come on!"

Trip turned around and found Sam Moreno frowning at him.

"You're the new ones… Tucker and Reed, right?"

"Yes," Malcolm said.

"Well, Chayton can take you under his wing today, show you how things work around here," Moreno said, and turned away to follow the patients, who were filing out of the room in groups of two or three. "Now get going, we've got to be at the greenhouses at seven. Hurry up."

"Greenhouses?" Malcolm asked when the nurse was gone. "What's he talking about?"

Chayton smiled, but there was little humor in the expression and a certain bitterness in his tone as he answered.

"You've heard about the work program, right?" he asked.

Malcolm nodded.

"Well," Chayton said. "The operative word is "work". Unless you're as old as Parker and his buddy, it's all part of your therapy."

The last word was heavy with irony, as if Chayton could not think of a more ridiculous term. Trip exchanged a glance with Malcolm.

I guess this is where they say "Welcome to River Valley".

Somehow, he didn't feel amused by the thought at all.

Twenty minutes later, sitting on a truck which was rocking enough to make him slightly nauseous, Trip was beginning to understand what the work program was all about... and - taking a wild guess here - not only the program, but River Valley as an institution itself.

The greenhouses he had seen from their window last night stretched over more than a kilometer, rows and rows of windowless glass buildings that reflected the sunlight like dull mirrors. Each of them was equipped with solar cells on its roof, collecting the energy needed to keep the systems inside running.

They certainly know how to save unnecessary expenses, Trip thought as the truck rolled past another group of patients on their way into one of the houses. Collect sunlight, cut down on the electric bill, collect patients, cut down on the salaries.

Because there were none. Chayton had only laughed when, back in the changing room, Trip had asked him if they were getting paid for their work.

"Paid? This is all part of their therapy program. You don't get paid for your health care, you're lucky that you don't have to pay them. Besides, what do you want to spend the money on? New straitjackets?"

He was right, of course. It wouldn't make any difference, not really.

Chayton had wanted to add something when Sam Moreno had suddenly been standing behind them. The nurse had given Chayton a long look, and this time it was Cordier who averted his eyes.

"I haven't heard a word of that," Moreno had said, quietly but with unmistakable meaning. "But you want to be careful, Cordier. And you-" he had looked at Trip and Malcolm, "-would do well to keep your opinions to yourselves. Understand?"

They had understood. After Moreno had left, they had slipped into their gray work overalls without exchanging another word, and had followed the other patients into the yard behind the building. Moreno was there, talking to Paul Lendon, and from the looks the nurses were giving them Trip guessed that Moreno was relating to Lendon what he had overheard in the changing room. Lendon, on seeing Trip, had grinned broadly and raised two fingers in a mock greeting. Trip had forced himself to ignore the man, pretending he had not seen, and had taken a look around instead. Patients and nurses were milling about in the yard, the latter directing the former to climb onto the waiting trucks that would take them to the greenhouses. No one seemed to doubt that this was the way things were supposed to be; it was just... routine. Every-day business.

The vehicle came to a jerky halt, causing everybody to bump against each other. The door of the driver's cab was slammed shut, and a moment later Moreno and Lendon appeared at the back of the truck.

"Come on, guys, get down there!" Moreno lowered the tailboard and waved for them to climb down. "You too, Jimmy!"

Jimmy, a skinny, dark-haired man with scared eyes, was sitting at the very end of the bench, as far away from the tailboard as possible. He had his fingers laced at the nape of his neck and muttered angry-sounding words, rocking back and forth along with them.

"Jimmy!"

The man ignored Moreno and continued rocking and muttering, apparently unaware that he was the only one left on the truck. Moreno sighed.

"Jimmy, don't be that way. I know you don't like cars, but you can't-"

"Goddamn cars!" Jimmy spat the word as if it were a curse. "They're dangerous! Kill millions of people every year! Did you know that? Did you know how dangerous they are?"

"I know, Jimmy. But it's okay, we're here now. You don't have to stay in the car any longer. Now come down, okay?"

The man had obviously not listened, rocking with even more vigor now. "Dangerous," he muttered. "They're dangerous, they kill people. Millions of people every year. I've seen the statistics."

"Oh for fuck's sake!" Lendon went over to the truck and began to climb onto the back end. Jimmy turned his head. His eyes widened when he saw Lendon, and he moved even further away. "They're dangerous!" he said, beginning to sound panicky. "Dangerous!"

"Paul..." Moreno began, but Lendon cut him off.

"This idiot is playing us, Sam. He thinks we're stupid and don't see that he just wants to get out of work. Ain't that right, Jim-boy?"

Jimmy was trembling. "Dangerous," he whispered. "Cars are dangerous."

"Yeah, right." Lendon took Jimmy's arm and pulled him to his feet. "Now get a move on. Get down!"

"No!" Jimmy wrenched his arm out of Lendon's grip and threw himself back onto the bench. "No, they're dangerous, cars are dangerous, no-!"

"Shut up!" Lendon yelled.

Jimmy flinched as if someone had struck him and began to cry, his face hidden against the wall of the truck. Lendon grabbed his hair and yanked him off the bench, then kicked the man at his feet, once, twice. Jimmy sobbed louder every time Lendon's shoe connected with his ribs.

"Paul!" Moreno threw a quick glance around. "Come on, leave him alone!"

Lendon, his fist still in Jimmy's hair, turned around, his pale face reddened with anger. "This idiot's making fun of us, Sam! I'm not gonna listen to his shit every goddamn morning!"

As if to emphasize his point, he delivered another kick into Jimmy's stomach. Jimmy screamed and curled up as well as he could with Lendon holding on to his hair, his arms wrapped around his midsection.

Without thinking about what he was doing, Trip took a step forward. A large hand closed around his arm. He turned his head and saw Chayton, who was shaking his head.

"Don't," he said very quietly, and Trip noticed that his other hand was holding on to Malcolm's shoulder. "Don't. You'll only make it worse. And Lendon has it in for you anyway."

In the meantime, Lendon had let go of Jimmy, pushing him towards tail end. Sobbing, the man climbed to his feet, snot and tears running down his thin face. He raised a hand to wipe them off and awkwardly lowered himself off the truck. Once his feet had found the ground, he stood there for a second, then swayed and collapsed in a quivering heap.

Lendon rolled his eyes as he jumped down as well. "Oh come on, don't give me that." He nodded at Chayton. "You, help him. He's not skipping work again. We've had enough of that the last few weeks."

Chayton gave Lendon a look of disgust, then knelt down next to Jimmy and laid an arm around the man's trembling shoulders, talking quietly. Lendon pretended not to notice and nodded at the rest of them.

"What are you waiting for? Get going!"

They obeyed, slowly, avoiding Lendon's eyes. Trip seemed to have hesitated a moment too long, and the nurse took a step towards him.

"You got somethin' to say, Trippy boy?"

Trip could see the anticipation in Lendon's eyes, the challenge: Come on, say something. Let's see you play the rebel.

He held the nurse's eyes for another moment, then turned away. He wasn't going to play into the man's hands by rising to the bait. As he followed the rest of the group towards the greenhouse, he heard Sam Moreno's quiet voice behind him:

"Was that really necessary, Paul? The state he's in now, he won't calm down all day. You know how he gets."

"I don't care," Lendon answered. "I'm not gonna let this idiot manipulate everybody. The rest of them are working, and he can do jus' the same."

Moreno sighed but said nothing in response, walking past the group of patients until he had reached the door of the greenhouse. He entered a combination of digits on the panel that was embedded in the wall next to the entrance and the door slid aside, revealing a sight that made Trip momentarily forget about Lendon.

The inside of the building was as wide and spacious as a cathedral, only that the glass walls allowed the sunlight to filter inside. The air was slightly misty and damp from the constant spray of water that came out of the irrigation pipes on the ceiling, and it was warm; coming in out of the cold gray morning, Trip felt as if he had stepped into a sunny spring day. What really caught his attention, however, were the trees; rows and rows of small apple trees whose branches were weighed down with large, red fruits. It was the most beautiful thing he had seen in River Valley so far; or, for that matter, the most beautiful thing he could ever remember seeing.

"Unbelievable," Malcolm said quietly next to him, and Trip could see that he was impressed as well. A moment later, he heard Moreno's voice behind them.

"Tucker, Reed, get over here!"

They turned around and found that the rest of the patients had lined up in front of a small shed next to the entrance. Trip looked around for Jimmy and found him sitting on a small bench to one side, arms tightly wrapped around his upper body. He was rocking back and forth and muttering to himself in a frantic tone of voice. Lendon seemed to have disappeared.

In the meantime, Moreno had unlocked the shed and waved the first two men inside. "Come on, everybody grab a bag and then get going!"

The bags were about the size of bath towels and could be worn over the shoulder with a strap. Trip slipped his on and was about to follow the other patients when Moreno called out again.

"Tucker, Reed, you stay here for a moment!" He waved them over. "Either of you ever done this before?"

They shook their heads. Not that we would remember if we had, Trip added in thought.

Moreno nodded. "Well, here's the deal. You pick the apples one at a time and put them carefully into your bag. Our customers expect high quality, so it won't do if the apples have bruises all over. If you notice that an apple has a soft place or a brown spot or something of the like, just drop it – don't leave it on the tree. We'll pick those up later. When your bag is full, come back here to empty it. Oh, and by the way, the apples are not for you guys to eat. If I catch you doing that, there's going to be trouble. Understood?"

They nodded and Moreno waved at them to get going. "Well, then get started."

They went over to the row of trees where the rest of the group had started working. Some of the other men picked the apples so quickly that their hands seemed to blur, while others took their time, slowly and methodically transferring the fruits from the branches into their bags. They all seemed to have done this many times before, going about their work like professional pickers.

Choosing the two trees next to Chayton's, they started to work. The tall man grinned at them, picking apples off branches no one else would have reached without a stepladder.

"Having fun yet?" he asked.

Trip moved to another branch closer to Chayton so that he could talk quietly without being overheard.

"What the hell is this, some sort of apple plantation?"

Chayton smirked. "Never heard of the River Valley Organic Food Farm?"

Trip shook his head. Malcolm, who had started picking off Trip's tree so that he could listen to the conversation, frowned.

"Organic food, like...?"

"Untreated, never touched by any chemicals, and hand-picked by trained professionals," Chayton said, plucking another apple off its branch. "River Valley's the number one healthfood brand. They make tons of money selling this stuff to people who can afford it."

"And it's only apples?" Trip wanted to know.

Chayton shook his head. "No, they sell all sorts of fruits and vegetables. The greenhouse next to this one has pears, the next one peaches and so on. You'll see it when we get assigned there."

"And the patients do all the work?" Malcolm asked.

Chayton nodded. "Yep," he said matter-of-factly.

"But doesn't anybody care that it's illegal?"

"Well, it's not exactly illegal," Chayton replied. "This is a state-sponsored facility, so they're allowed to put us on a work program. It's supposed to be light work and half-days, but it's not as if anybody cares to check. The guys from Social Services come by once a year and spend an hour in Dr. Cooke's office, then go off again and spend the next two months on Maui or someplace else that is nice and expensive. Far as I know, they've never even been to the greenhouses."

Trip had stopped picking. "That's..."

"Life?" Chayton offered. "It's the way things work around here."

"But..." Malcolm began, but was interrupted by Lendon, who had suddenly appeared right next to them.

"Less talk, more action, guys," he said. "Come on, Reed, you can flirt with your boyfriend later. Now get back to work. You too, pretty boy."

He gave Trip a light shove towards the tree, his hand lingering on Trip's back a second too long. Trip shrugged him off and began to pick again, biting back an angry reply.

If he keeps this up much longer...

Lendon chuckled, casually plucked an apple off the tree and took a bite, then dropped it onto the ground.

"Tastes like shit anyway," he said, with a side glance at Trip who pretended not to have heard. The nurse grinned and gave the apple a kick that sent it flying, then sauntered off along the row of trees.

"What a bloody arsehole," Malcolm muttered under his breath, dropping an apple into his bag with more force than necessary. Trip only nodded. His stomach was burning with anger, and he could feel his headache returning, throbbing behind his forehead like a live thing.

Bloody asshole, all right.

Taking a deep breath, he continued picking, and tried to ignore the pain and the feeling that this was not over by a long shot.

TBC...

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