Noah knew this was not real, yet he found himself unable to convince himself otherwise. Even though the sky was a bright shade of pink, Noah could almost persuade himself that was normal. There were ceiling fans spinning lazily around, unattached to any ceiling, hundreds of them, like a flock of gyrating birds, but that was an everyday occurrence, right? Ahead of him a long black road stretched out and in the distance Noah could see it looping to the left. If Noah followed the road, it ended straight back at his feet in one massive loop of a road.
It was eerily silent, save for the strange step-stepping of something that Noah could not see. It was if something were getting closer, but whatever it was simply did not have a physical form.
"Noah, are you still with me?"
"Doctor Evans?" Noah looked around at the sound of his doctor's voice, but it almost came from everywhere at once. Besides, Noah found it hard to focus with that step-stepping. "Where are you?"
"Noah."
This time Noah realised the voice came above. He looked up and staring at him like a child behind a magnifying glass was the inquisitive gaze of Doctor Evans, a giant of unbelievable magnitude. Noah shrugged as if this was a sight he would see every day, despite the fact he knew this impossibility was just that: impossible.
"What's going on, Doctor Evans. I'm confused."
"That is good. What were you looking at?"
Noah felt as if he had heard the words Doctor Evans was speaking before. "I'm looking at you…"
"And what was beyond the—"
"DADDY!" The girlish scream made Noah recoil in pain. He spun around but the source of the voice was invisible. The step-stepping grew closer and closer until it rung in Noah's ears. He spun around again and suddenly found himself face-to-face with a young girl with a face that had no eyes or ears, only a wide, gaping, toothless mouth. "Daddy, look what I found!" The girl offered an outstretched palm where a pink pen lay, words etched on the side reading: 'To the #1 Psych-Daddy'. "You're my number one, daddy!"
"I'm not your—"
"Number one!" Another girl, a carbon copy, appeared next to the first, holding out an equal pen. "Number one!"
"Do you still think of the crash?" Doctor Evans' voice boomed from up ahead. Noah made the mistake of glancing up at the behemoth of a face. When he looked down, he was surrounded by the faceless girls, all holding out pens, all echoing the same two words.
"Number one! Number one! Number one! Number one!" The pens were dripping with red ink now, pooling between the girls fingers and gathering up at Noah's feet. They were caging him in and he could feel the wetness and Noah realised that it was not ink, it was blood…
Noah jerked awake, immediately feeling cold wood on his cheek. He raised his head and gathered his bearings, realising he was sitting at the bench in the grassy square, nearby the administrative building. He could hear birds singing in the distance and the sun was casting a murky glare through dark clouds. It must have been morning. He was going to wait until Doctor Evans arrived but the early awakening must have caught up with him.
After speaking with Conner, the man had no more to say. He had asked for them to leave, saying he didn't have any intention of meeting with the doctor anymore, and Robyn and Noah had left. Robyn herself crashed almost immediately, her bright talkative aura suddenly turning sloth-like and tired. Noah couldn't help but be reminded of a playful puppy who ran for too long and too hard. He told her to get some sleep. Noah would talk to Doctor Evans first and then he would wake up Robyn and they would speak with Penelope and Owen, meet up with John, and start formulating some kind of a plan.
If only plans ever went so easy.
Generally, entering the administrative building was by request only, so Noah wasn't surprised to find himself stopped by Finley Sullivan, who had clearly drawn receptionist duty for the day. He was tapping away at the computer and only looked up when Noah entered, looking a little confused.
"Hi, Noah. I didn't think you had an appointment with Doctor Evans today."
Noah shrugged. Sullivan was one of the nicer orderlies but still someone who Noah would have trouble talking to. Something that Noah knew a lot of the residents appreciated was that Sullivan wasn't afraid to treat them like real people. People like Banks treated them as objects, but it wouldn't be unusual to see Sullivan playing pinball in the Rec-Zone, reading out loud to a group from a novel, or playing board games with others. It was clear the man loved his job, and loved the people under his care. It was why he was so against Banks and those two had butted heads more times than Noah could count. Something had to give one way or the other.
"Oh, did you want to talk to him after yesterday? Well, his appointment hasn't turned up today so I'm sure he'll be happy to speak to you. You seem to be looking a little better, if you'll allow me to point out." Sullivan smiled. "Bad days come and go especially in Hearthome, so you need to look out for yourself. You're a good lad, Noah, I'll tell you that much."
"Do you know John?" Noah asked. He was building up the question as soon as he saw Sullivan and it took him a while to word it.
"John?" Sullivan looked a little taken off guard at the question, if not a little uncertain at being talked to by Noah directly. "There's a couple of Johns around Hearthome."
"Next door to me."
Sullivan looked inquisitive for a moment before he tapped the desk as it came to him. "Ah, you mean John Doe, got you. He's a bit of a recluse. With all due respect, Noah, you're quiet, but you leave the dorms daily. I've not known John to leave his room other than to eat, and that is always when no one else is around. What's got you asking about him?"
"John… Doe?"
"Well, sometimes you guys come to Hearthome and don't have identification. Sometimes people don't know who they are. Hearthome caters to all, so if we pick up people like that, we offer them the chance to give us a name. Doesn't have to be real, just something to refer to them as. John didn't give us a name so he got assigned as such. But well, that's all I'm really allowed to talk to you about him. Is he making some kind of disturbance for you?"
"No. Just talked to me."
"Oh? That is unusual. Although it would be good to see John get involved outside of the dorms a little more. Being outside is healthy for the mind, I know that much."
Noah just shrugged, not really imagining inviting John out for a meal or a moonlit stroll. Talking to him about visions and Lists was one thing – being friendly was something else entirely. But a John Doe… That just made it all the more mysterious. Noah made a mental note to speak to Robyn about him and see if she knew any stories. There was always a hint of truth to her many tales, and there must be hundreds of rumours about the man next door.
"Doctor Evans is available now Noah, you can head on in," Sullivan smiled up at Noah. Noah made to move, stopped, and turned back around.
"Sullivan…"
"I always tell people to call me Finley. I hate being referred to by my last name like I'm some kind of dime-a-dollar security guard."
"If I need to talk to you later, would that be okay?"
"Talk to me? Well, I'll be on reception most of the day. I can go to the Rec-Zone after five if you like? Is everything okay? Is Imogen being a bother?"
"No… Nothing like that. I will be there. Thank you." Noah left Finley alone, taking the well-worn route towards Doctor Evans' office, his mind full of just what he had gotten himself into. He could hear the part of him locked behind the iron bars, screaming that it all wasn't worth it. Why bother with trying to save people, why bother involving himself in something like the vision all over again? It only leads to misery and heartbreak. He should just accept fate for what it was and let Death stamp their tickets. The other part of Noah, the part that was slowly resurfacing, fought back against this idea. Letting himself go into the jaws of Death was one thing, but Robyn? There was no way he could let her die if he had any way of preventing it. Doctor Evans had been nothing but helpful, Penelope and Ollie seemed like good people. Even Conner, after his breakdown in his room, at least seemed human, and what human deserved to die?
Before he knew it, Noah had opened the door into the office and allowed his thoughts to drift away, free from the confines of this office. Doctor Evans immediately looked up from underneath soft step-stepping of the listing ceiling fan. "Ah, Noah, did you have a nice nap?"
"You saw me?"
"Snoozing away outside, out like a light. I am not surprised you had an early start. I thought I would let you be unless it started raining, which looking at the clouds, will be quite soon indeed. They keep threatening a storm but we keep missing the brunt of it. We will get our turn soon enough." Doctor Evans motioned for Noah to sit down, before placing his pink pen, mercifully free of blood, back in a standing holder on his desk. "So I thought we would do something a little different today. As this was not a planned meeting and we are using free time, I will not make any notes during the session. I might jot some things down afterwards, but for now let us just talk. I will not offer the conversation topics and rather let you take the lead, Noah. After all, you came here bearing questions, yes?"
"Yes, I do."
"Let me first ask you how you are feeling? I was surprised to see you out and about. Happy about it, to be honest. Being outside is healthy for the mind."
"That's the second time I've heard that."
"Finley is a smart man, a good man. But you avoided my question."
"You told me I could take the lead."
Doctor Evans chuckled and smiled. "Touché. It is nice to see your wit, it always pleases me. A little of the old, don't you think?" The doctor leaned back on his chair, hands clasped in front of his jacket. "So, fire away."
"Did I ever tell you about the Crosshatch Club?"
"Ah, I figured you would ask me about the club. No, you have kept that firm to your chest. It is part of our duty to look into the backgrounds of those admitted here. You know Hearthome is a state-of-the-art facility, and we have to make sure facts are straight. When we looked into your past, we saw that you were involved in Crosshatch. Records of videos filmed, deleted quickly because of the tragedy, of course, but you leading out those survivors was all caught on film."
Noah frowned. "I didn't think people would be filming."
"We are in the age of media, Noah. Someone is always watching. I apologise for bringing up the Crosshatch Club, but it felt necessary at the time. I was not trying to keep that I knew from you, but rather was going to bring it up when it felt relevant. But me knowing about the Crosshatch Club is not really what is on your mind, is it?"
"No, I suppose it isn't." Noah felt his words go, unusual when in front of Doctor Evans. He knew what he wanted to ask but he found himself unable to put the words together. How could he doubt Doctor Evans, the man who had talked through so much with Noah? A man whose job it was to help. To lose that trust would mean Noah couldn't take anything they had talked about in their sessions at face value, and it hurt to think that. It meant that there was a potential for their conversations not to have been real at all, just let on by Doctor Evans and whatever agenda he may have.
You're starting to sound like Robyn, Noah, not everything is a conspiracy.
"May I wager a guess? I spoke as if I knew what a List was, of what a vision was, did I not? I implied that the Crosshatch Club was a real vision, that the bus accident was not, and that what you experienced yesterday was indeed another vision. A confusing prospect, no doubt."
"It's just… Doctor… All this time you have been telling me that my visions weren't real. That I wasn't going to wake up seven years ago and see Amelia again. That it actually happened. And now you're telling me this time it is real… I guess I know it within myself that it is but…"
"Let me make this clear, Noah, and I apologise if I come across as hurtful. The bus accident that claimed Amelia's life was real. That was a real tragedy. That actually happened." Noah had been told this hundreds of times but it made it no easier to listen to. "Noah. Do you think you are stable?"
"…Stable? That's a weird question to ask someone in a mental hospital, Doctor…" Doctor Evans was speaking differently than usual, and Noah found it a little unnerving.
"What I mean, Noah, is if I told you some news, would you be able to take it and consider it carefully, or would you react as you did last night? The last thing I want is to put you into that kind of fugue state again. I know John spoke to you. I know you and Robyn visited Conner. In fact, I suspect that is why he did not turn up for his meeting we are now using this time for. So I know you appear to actively be acting on what you saw yesterday morning. So I ask you again, Noah, if I give you some news, can you accept it? Mull it over? I still want what is best for your mental health, and while I feel that you may be able to handle it, if you do not, then I will not tell."
"Your little birdies tell you far too much," Noah muttered before speaking up. "I want to hear what you have to say."
"Okay, I will respect that. So do I know of the List and visions? Yes, yes I do." For some reason, Noah did not feel surprised. Of course Doctor Evans knew. It only made sense, somehow. "You see, I was confused when you confirmed to me that what you experienced felt like the vision you had at the Crosshatch Club. You were able to differentiate the Crosshatch Club and the bus accident. It comforts me that you know that difference. The thing is, I left you because I was concerned. I was concerned because it should not be possible to have a vision anymore. The Lists have ceased to be."
Noah blinked, confused. "Wait, wait, wait… Are you telling me this was not a real vision? I don't…" Noah could feel the surge rising up over his shoulders. "You tell me it was real. Now you tell me it's not real. I… This is the whole point… I'm supposed to know what is real and what is not and now you're-"
"Noah. Can you handle it?" Doctor Evans' voice was firm. He stood up, his chair pushing against the carpet.
Noah shrugged. His mind was whirling, spinning like the fan above Doctor Evans' head. Spinning and spinning and wobbling and spinning. Concerned because it shouldn't be possible to have a vision? Noah couldn't wrap his head around that statement. Wobbling, what did that mean? Wait, wobbling? "Doctor—!"
With a thunk, the swirling ceiling fan pulled away from its bindings and plummeted straight down towards Doctor Evans' exposed head. Noah jumped to his feet and whether by Noah's warning or by pure luck, Doctor Evans leaned forward. The fan crashed heavily onto the man's back and his face bounced into his desk. But the fan had missed Doctor Evans' head, it would have hurt, but surely a blow on the back wouldn't have killed him. Yet… Yet… the doctor was not moving, slumped as if he was sleeping on the desk. The now still ceiling fan had slid with a crash onto the floor.
"…Doctor…" Noah's throat became dry as he stepped towards the desk. "Doctor Evans?" Noah tentatively placed a hand on the doctor's shoulder and gently shook him. Nothing. He shook harder. No reaction. Noah felt fear wetting his throat. He grasped the doctor's shoulders and heaved him up from the desk back into a sitting position on the chair.
Doctor Evans' head rolled back, the tip of pink the only hint that his pen had stabbed directly into his eye socket, piercing the lens of the doctor's glasses in a webwork of cracks. A small trickle of blood and the popped remnants of his eyeball dripped down the doctor's cheek like a visceral tear. Noah felt sick to his stomach. It was as if the pink pen itself had crossed Doctor Evans' name off the List, punctuating the scene with the knowledge that this was real. Doctor Evans' was the first on the List and now here he was, dead in front of Noah.
"My God… What have you done?" Finley Sullivan stood loosely in the doorway, eyes wide, face pale, one hand already reaching for his radio.