Northern Illinois Hospital and Asylum for the Insane
Chicago, IL, 6/26/1918
"You must be Mr. Mason. I'm Dr. Cullen, one of the infectious disease specialists. It's a pleasure to meet you," the man in the white coat said. He was unusually pale, a rather chalky color that almost seemed like paint.
"Just Edward is fine, sir."
Dr. Cullen shook the bronze-haired boy's hand. "How old are you? We don't get many young volunteers, especially volunteer pianists."
"I recently turned seventeen," Edward replied.
Dropping his voice, Dr. Cullen leaned in closer to speak. "Are you sure you want to play in the North wing? Most of the inpatients are there for psychiatric reasons."
Edward nodded. "Anything to help the war effort. I read about shell shock and the suffering it causes. Perhaps music may be of some comfort to the soldiers."
"That's very kind of you. I'll try to drop by between my shifts to hear you." Dr. Cullen smiled, exposing a pair of especially pointy canine teeth. He pointed down the polished wooden hallway and said, "Go through the double doors and show your volunteer badge to security. The piano should be by the windows in the common area."
Edward thanked the doctor and followed his directions.
The double doors opened into a large sitting room with arched windows and plush chairs. A few patients shuffled about in light blue gowns, accompanied by nurses pushing metal carts full of medicine bottles and syringes. A brown, upright piano stood against the far wall.
Resting his bookbag on the ground, Edward took out a folder of sheet music and sat down at the piano. It was an old, but well-maintained Baldwin with yellowing keys. He planned to start with an easier song, one he knew by heart.
Before his fingers could graze the keys, Edward heard a voice softly humming the exact song he was about to play. Bewildered, he followed the sweet sound to a girl perched on the windowsill. Her figure was so slight that he hadn't noticed her behind the curtains.
"How did you know that I was going to play Debussy's…" Edward began.
"Rêverie?" the girl finished. She clasped her hands against her chest, beaming at him. "I absolutely adore that song! Did you know it means 'daydream'? I love daydreaming, much more than night dreaming; of course, there's not much else to do around here, so it's wonderful that you came. I couldn't wait to have someone to talk to!"
The girl spoke rapidly in a high, bell-like voice. Her feathery black hair fluttered off her shoulders as she bounced into a nearby armchair. She had two side braids, tied in the back with a white ribbon.
"Lucky guess," Edward said after a long pause. The girl snuggled into the cushions and encouraged him to start playing, wearing a curious expression upon her face.
Turning back to the piano, Edward pressed down on the keys. He cautiously broke the sterile silence of the hospital with Debussy. The melody turned a few heads in his direction, and several people moved their chairs closer to him. Feeling more confident, Edward opened his sheet music and played through the rest of his set for another hour. He occasionally heard a little voice singing along, often hitting the notes before he did.
When the hour was up, Edward looked over and saw that the girl was still curled up in the armchair. She gave him a vigorous round of applause, cheering and whistling until he flushed with embarrassment. The noise drove two patients away.
Edward packed up his bookbag, slinging it over his shoulder and taking a seat next to the girl. He wanted to stay a bit longer in case any soldiers or the doctor from earlier came.
"Thank you for your…enthusiasm, miss," Edward said to her.
"Mary Alice Brandon, but I prefer Alice!" she chirped, "I hope you come here a lot, Edward."
"How do you know my name?"
"Would you believe me if I said I have psychic powers?" Alice teased.
Somehow, Edward had a strange feeling that she was telling the truth. He glanced at the patient gown peeking out from behind her baggy cardigan. Of course. She probably thought she was telling the truth.
"I'm not crazy," Alice said, as if reading his mind.
Taken aback, Edward chuckled. He was usually good at reading people, but this girl was always one step ahead of him. "No, you're remarkably sharp. Since you seem to know so much, perhaps you could tell me if anyone here is a war veteran."
"Are you interested in the Great War?"
"Oh yes, I plan to enlist as soon as I'm old enough," Edward eagerly replied. A fantasy of heroically charging onto a bullet-ridden battlefield flashed through his mind.
"You'd better look into colleges instead. I think the war is going to end soon."
"N-Nonsense! Really? How do you know?"
Alice shrugged. "Just a hunch."
"Oh."
"But my hunches are almost never wrong."
The pair chatted for a while longer, the minutes slipping by as they laughed. Edward found it easy to talk to Alice. There was something familiar about her demeanor that made him relaxed, despite them being strangers barely an hour ago.
He was surprised to learn that they were about the same age, both born in 1901. She was so much smaller than the girls he knew, and he wondered if it had to do with growing up in a hospital ward. The boniness of her wrists and the circles beneath her eyes made Edward nervous, but Alice spoke with such vivace and animation compared to the other patients.
A growl escaped from Edward's stomach, reminding him of the time. He politely informed Alice that he was due for dinner soon, and needed to head home. Standing up, he adjusted his bookbag while bidding farewell to her.
"I should say goodbye to that doctor as well. Do you know which wing infectious disease is in?" he asked.
"It's on the other side of…" Alice trailed off. Her eyes glazed over and her body froze in place. A slow look of horror spread across her delicate facial features. Edward waved his hand in front of her face, then searched the room for a nurse when she didn't respond.
Jolting back to her senses, Alice leapt to feet and grabbed Edward's sleeve. Her fingers dug into the fabric, firmly rooting him in place. She bore an ominous expression, a complete dichotomy from the whimsical smile she had throughout their conversations.
"No!" She exclaimed.
"Pardon?" Edward was alarmed, but not frightened.
Alice's words tumbled out of her mouth, tripping over one another. "Don't go there! There's been an outbreak of influenza. You have to stay away. You have to…please…don't get sick."
"I'll be alright," Edward reassured her.
"No, no, you don't understand…you have to…"
As Alice sputtered on, a pair of male nurses emerged and seized her by the arms, pulling her away from Edward.
"It's time for your afternoon medicines, Mary," one of them said.
"She prefers Alice," Edward retorted.
At this, Alice's face and voice softened. "Promise me, Edward, that you won't go there and promise me that you'll come back."
Edward stared into her trembling irises. "I promise."
As he left through the double doors, he saw the nurses take Alice into a back room. The cart of syringes went with them.
In the lobby of the hospital, Edward found a directory tacked on a bulletin board. The infectious disease ward was located in the South wing. An uneasiness in his chest prompted him to exit the building instead of looking for Dr. Cullen. Alice's warning kept nagging at him.
As Edward walked through the lawn, he crossed paths with a team of medical personnel wheeling a young man with blond hair into the hospital. The young man was dressed in an army uniform.
A rush of excitement rose inside Edward and he tried to say hello. The soldier lifted his head up and a pair of bright red eyes glinted beneath his flaxen locks. His skin was unnaturally white. He grinned, revealing abnormally long canines. Terrified, Edward stumbled backwards.
The soldier's head drooped back down and the medical team soon disappeared from Edward's sight. They wheeled him through the lobby, towards the North wing.
Later that evening, as Edward browsed the bookshelves in his father's study, his gaze fell on a book in the fiction section: Bram Stoker's Dracula. The pallor, red eyes, and sharp teeth of the soldier sent shivers down his spine. An image of Dr. Cullen suddenly crossed his thoughts. He hadn't noticed until now, but there was something eerily similar about the two.
Edward shook his head, chiding himself for entertaining ridiculous notions. First psychic warnings from an ill person, then vampires in a state hospital? Either Edward had been reading too many gothic novels, or he was being influenced by that strange yet endearing Mary Alice Brandon.