Red Eyes - Chapter 1

Chapter 1 – The Hand of Satan

For nearly thirty years, Vladimir has driven down this same country road to his job at the hospital. He enjoys this morning habit because it gives him time to clear his head, and it's rarely jammed with traffic unlike the interstate. However, this summer morning, it feels different as there is more than usual traffic driving down the weathered asphalt. He rolls down the window, and stares at the mist-shrouded pine forest. He becomes slightly annoyed there are no sounds at all when this forest is normally a choir of birds greeting the morning. Also, instead of the usual aroma of pine needles the air is thick with the stench of decay which causes him to think about his job as the smell lingers inside his car.

As he turns around the bend by the covered bridge over the river, he sees something a large shadowy figure in his headlights standing in the middle of the road over a deer carcass. He quickly slams on his brakes, missing the man by a few feet. He looks out into the morning darkness, and sees what appears to be a man glowing red eyes with fresh blood dripping from his hands. The man smiles at Vladimir as a truck with their high beams turns around the curve, blinding Vladimir. When the truck passes Vladimir, the man is gone, along with the deer.

Vladimir runs his hands through his white hair as he feels his body wound tighter than a piano string. His cold blue eyes stare through the windshield, and he sees the road in front of him is clear once again as an impatient driver behind him honks. He slaps his left cheek lightly to make sure that he’s really awake. He starts moving forward while sighing, “You’re letting your work to get you, Vladimir. You need a vacation.”

Vladimir continues on his way, trying to forget the encounter of the man with red eyes out of his mind. He has a full day ahead, and can't keep focusing on a random encounter by the river. All he knows it could have been a mild case of hallucinating due to the severe insomnia he's been suffering from. The stress of marriage indifferences at home is affecting him more then he originally thought.

He stops his car at the front security gates that lead to the hospital. The black, wrought iron bars still makes him feel he’s entering a prison, not a mental hospital. The red bricks that form the rest of the perimeter fence are blood red, a somber reminder that what the fence contains inside is for the safety of everyone on the outside. The squeak the fences make when they slowly creak open send a shiver down his spine. He is still in shock after his incident during his morning commute. He silently hopes the rest of day goes smoothly because for this place is designed to cure his patients, and he prays that he never becomes one as his hands are still shaking on the steering wheel.

After making his way through the front security gates and down the concrete driveway, he pulls into his parking spot under the massive moss covered oak, and stops the car. He gets out, and looks back towards the road. The sun is starting to rise over the hills, shining through the pines. The morning rays casting slender fingers of light through the underbrush, and over the asylum's weather brick facade. The smell of decay is gone, and replaced by the usual stench of the pine needles mixed with the morning glories growing throughout the cracked bricks in the building. He notices his hands aren’t shaking as bad as he hears the birds begin their daily harmony through the branches.

Walking through the massive iron and oak doors into the lobby, he sees the human resources administrator waiting for him in front of the oak security desk. He doesn't fear the administrator like some employees do. Then again, Vlad knows that the administrator has a reputation for firing people over simple things, like the wrong shoes, but it’s just rumors to keep people in line. The administrator is a short, squirrelly looking man in his late 40's with puffy cheeks, baldhead, and wears the same plain gray suits to work every day. In his hand, there's a large docket of papers tapping his toes in his cheap leather dress shoes on the tile.

The guard Tony is sitting at his post, mocking the administrator behind his back. Vladimir feels that some days, they hired patients to run administrative tasks as the guard keeps making faces behind the administrator’s back. Ten feet behind the desk is the two doors made out of solid steel bars that keep the patients in, and society out. This hospital has been the home of some of the most notorious serial killers, so comfort was last on design features when they built this place.

As Vladimir makes it to the desk, the administrator holds out the docket while stating, “Dr. Zhernakov, this came in from your wife's lawyer," says the administrator as he holds it out. "You need to sign it by the end of the day."

Vladimir snatches it, tucks it under his left arm without saying a word. He shows the guard his ID card, and makes his way towards the steel doors. He gets a few feet away from the desk when he hears behind me, "I'm not kidding, Doctor. By today!"

Vladimir turns around, and stomps heavily back towards the desk. Easily a foot tall then Mr. Brown, the doctor looks down at the administrator and coldly replies in his Russian accent, "Mr. Brown, I will have on your desk by five this afternoon. Also, I wish you wouldn't broadcast my personal affairs in front of the staff."

Mr. Brown is about to say something, but stops when he sees the angered look in Vladimir’s eyes, he quickly scurries off down the hall, and disappears behind an unmarked gray door to the left of the guard station.

Tony chuckles as Vladimir slides his card into the card reader next to the steel doors. When he hears the click of the lock disengage, he pulls the door open, and quickly enters. He closes the door, despite it being automatic, and stand there waiting for the lock to engage once more before walking forward. He makes his way down the hall to the administration door at the end.

He slides his card in the administration door leading to his office, and is surprised to see two police officers sitting in the lobby across from the nurses’ station on the couch. Vladimir guesses the one with gray hair and brown eyes is higher up than the baby-faced man with black hair and brown eyes. They both have a serious look on their faces as they drink their coffee without saying a word in their cheap off-the-shelf suits. The nurse on duty is Bianca, a middle age woman with brown hair in a tight bun and blue eyes, is too busy reading the computer monitor, completely oblivious to her surroundings. After learning his wife is having an affair with a nurse, he’s becoming to loathe all the nurses despite them being critical to his work.

The doctor gives the nurses a dirty look before starting to the cops, “Good morning, officers. I'm Dr. Vladimir Zhernakov, Head Director here at Misty Pines Mental Hospital. How can I be of assistance?"

The older cop states while showing his badge that is attached by a rubber band to a large file folder, "I'm Detective Ramirez, and this is my partner Detective Stetson. We're in The Homicide Division Can we talk in private, Doctor?"

"Of course. Please in my office," replies Vladimir as he points to the door at the end of the lobby.

They stand up, and follow Vladimir to the door. He opens his office door, and holds the door open for the officers while yelling back towards Bianca, "Coffee and danishes please."

“Yes, Doctor,” Bianca replies.

Vladimir lets out a snort as Bianca runs off before closing the door. The fact his home life is being affected by nurses in a way, and most of them are clueless some days, he's being to think to replace them all, and hire new ones. However, he can't because according to Mr. Brown, that's against policy despite all the evidence. So, he has to deal with the current staff, even though he feels the patients here are more useful due to countless reports of negligence and incompetence.

Vladimir motions for the officers to sit down opposite of him he tucks the packet from HR into the top desk drawer. Despite being Head Director, his office is sparsely decorated besides a wall of file cabinets. The only personal things Vladimir keeps in here is his degrees and certifications mounted on the beige wells behind his mahogany desk, and a single Matryoshka doll his mother gave him he keeps by his computer monitor. He moves a stack of files off his desk so they can see each other more clearly. Vladimir He looks at the officers and inquires, "What can I do for you?"

Detective Ramirez explains, “We have a new patient we want to admit to your facility. Due to a court gag order, we can’t say his name." He lays the folder on the desk in front of Vladimir, and adds, "I will warn you, Doctor. There are some very graphic photos within."

"Detective, I've served in Vietnam. Very few things will shock me anymore," Vladimir states. He opens the file, and sees the mug shot of a young man whose name is redacted on the file due to the gag order. Vlad guesses the man is in his mid-twenties, neatly trimmed blond hair, and a happy expression in his green eyes.

Vladimir flips over the mug shot, and begins reading the police report. He actual finds himself a little disturbed by the description of human sacrifice written within the papers. He flips back and forth between the photo and report in disbelief. He finally looks at the crime scene photos, and his eyes open wide in shock as he stares at the heavily mutilated family of four hanging from the ceiling. His brow wrinkles as he finds himself puzzled how a man with no criminal record or health issues commits such a heinous crime, which includes four counts of first-degree murder, and one count of second degree.

"You okay, Doctor?" asks Detective Stetson.

"I don't believe what I'm seeing," he sighs as he closes the folder, feeling his stomach turn and tasting bile in the back of his throat. “This man did all of this?"

"Yes," says Detective Stetson in a deadpan tone. "All the evidence linked him to the entire crime: fingerprints, DNA, the whole nine yards. It's an open and shut case, but the trial has been delayed.

Vladimir opens the folder again. “I take it was an insanity plea."

"The State Attorney tried to push the trial right through due to the nature of the murders, but judge agreed to the plea," says Ramirez.

"You won't believe us if we told you, Doctor," replies Stetson almost smirking.

"What was the reason?"

"What we can say is the accused keeps stating a man with red eyes did the crime, not him," states Ramirez. “According to his statement, he was asleep until he heard a single gunshot. He swears he woke up with the pistol in his hand."

Vladimir freezes as he thinks about the encounter by the river on his way into work this morning. He finally swallows down the bitter taste of bile in his throat and asks, “Who did they say was the real murderer?”

“A man with red eyes, “replies Detective Stetson.

“I see why the judge agreed to the insanity plea,” Vlad states as he sees a recollection of the man he saw this morning. Those red eyes might haunt him forever. “When will the patient arrive?”

"Tomorrow depending on our report," explains Detective Stetson. "We've been ordered to check where he will be kept during his tenure here. The State Attorney wants him to be completely isolated till you can do your full evaluation."

"I wasn't notified of such visit," replies Vladimir bitterly. He's never been a fan of surprise visits by any agency. He's almost a little perturbed Mr. Brown didn't inform of the two detectives waiting for him. However, since this is his asylum, he will put on a happy face for the detectives, and deal with Mr. Brown later.

"There's a copy of the official letter from the capital in the file in the back," states. Detective Ramirez.

Vladimir turns the file over, and opens it up again. He pauses as he sees those eyes again for a second, but turns around the sheet of paper on top, and sees it's the official State Attorney letterhead. He closes the file and hears a knock on his door indicating an orderly has brought them their breakfast. “Shall we begin the tour after we have some coffee?" he asks as he stands up.

"Sure," the detectives reply.

Thirty minutes later, the detectives follow Vladimir out of the office, and towards the rear of the lobby. He slides his card into a heavy, windowless steel door, and leads them towards a dimly light iron staircase that goes down towards another steel door. An armed guard with a pump shotgun slung over his shoulder waits by the door.

Vladimir hands the guard his ID card, and the detectives show the guard their badges to make it through the armed guards as they enter a large open room, about the size of a high school gym. Inside, there are what appear to be 16 clear plastic cubicle cells that run parallel to each other towards the middle of the open area. Overhead, there's a metal walkway where the guards armed with shotguns would circle over the plastic cells. Currently, there's only an armed guard at each end.

The walls are joined together by very thick steel beans with padding on the inside. There is a padded steel frame holding the plastic door in the middle. On one side of the frame, there's a biometric reader. The room itself contains a simple bed in the middle on a plastic frame, and in the far right corner, contains a toilet and a basic shower. The room has no privacy at all.

"Welcome to Domus Metus, detectives," states Vladimir. "This is where the worst of the worst are kept. Anyone deemed a threat to the general populous, such as mass murderers, a history of violence towards the staff, or in a few cases, patients with a history of cannibalism," Vladimir shudders as he looks around while thinking how dangerous his job really is, and how fortunate there hasn’t been any escapes from Domus Metus

"Why plastic?" asks Detective Stetson as they stand in front of the first one on the left. He taps on it with knuckles and asks, "How thick is this plastic?"

"Six inches thick all around," replies Vladimir. "The roof is only 2 inches, but it's high enough they can't reach it. It’s plastic so there’s less change of them injuring themselves, or anyone else. "

"How long patients are kept down here?" inquires Detective Ramirez.

"Sometimes, a patient may only spend a week down here, while others may never leave.”

"How many patients right now?" asks Detective Stetson.

"Only one, and he is only temporary," states Vladimir. "Well, we hope he's not permanent."

"What did he do?" asks Ramirez.

"He stabbed an orderly with a pen in the neck," states Vladimir. "It was a mix up in his medications that lead to the incident, but we're keeping him here down here a week for observation."

"So, the rest are empty?" asks Stetson.

"Yes."

"If full, how many guards are on duty?"

"Four overhead, and two at each end," explains Vladimir. "Also, if need be, there's a system that can fill this room with a sleeping gas in extreme emergencies."

"Why so much security?" inquires Ramirez.

"We have held people of interest for DOD, CIA, and other agencies in the past," replies Vladimir. "Along with a few infamous criminals for the FBI." He pauses before adding, "It's been tone down because we've only used this room for minor incidents."

"Doctor! Doctor!" shouts the single occupant in the room. "Come quick!"

Vladimir walks to the last cell on the right hand side. Inside is an elderly man wearing the cotton blue overalls and rubber shoes with no laces sits on the bed, his hands trembling as he stares at the ceiling.

"Yes?" asks Vladimir as he glances at the ceiling, and sees nothing.

"You might want to go to the fourth floor. I have a feeling you are needed," whispers the patient in a very shaky voice.

"Why?"

"Someone is about to die."

"How do you know this?" Vladimir asks concerned and confused at the same time.

"A man told me," calmly replies the patient.

"What man?"

"A man with red eyes."

Vladimir rushes towards the security door with the detectives in tow, a look of concern visible on his face. The guard unlocks it, and he sprints over to the other one as the other guard holds it open.

"Everything okay, Doctor?" asks the guard.

Vladimir ignores him as he and the detectives run up the stairs. His hands begin to shake as he stumbles to get his card into the reader. He begins to panic as the door lock seems to not read the card, the red LED mocking him. He shoves the card one time, and the lock clicks as the light turns green, barely echoing over his heart that pounds within his chest. He yanks open the door, runs into the lobby. A very tall and muscular black orderly is already heading towards him holding restraints.

"What's going on?" asks Vladimir.

"A patient is making suicidal threats on the fourth floor," says the orderly.

"Anyone up there?"

"Doctor Henderson is along with two other orderlies," replies the orderly.

"Let's go,” Vladimir orders as they rush over to the other side of the lobby, and step inside the elevator

Time to seem to stand still as the elevator counts down each floor. As the elevator reaches the fourth floor, Vladimir steps off, and the orderly directs him to the room. The door is closed, and Doctor Henderson is outside with a panic look on his face with his black hair drenched in sweat as an orderly waits to his right. The orderly, Johannes, who is easily over 6 and half feet tall and built like a body builder, stands there with a broken nose, blood trickling down onto his green scrubs.

"What's going on, doctor?"

" I was here to check up on the patient since he mentioned he's been having terrible night tremors for the past week, and he snapped! " explains Doctor Henderson. “He throw Johannes with one fucking hand against the wall, and tossed Johannes and I out of the room before taking Henry hostage!”

Vladimir pushes Doctor Henderson to the side, and peeks into the window. The room is a complete mess. The bed is overturned, and the bottom of the mattress is soaked in fresh blood despite the only injury being Johannes’ nose. The small table is shattered into pieces against the wall opposite of the bed.

In the middle of the room, Vladimir witness something that scares him down to his very soul. The patient Andrew, who has been helping out in the kitchen due to his good behavior, has a chef’s knife in his left hand pressed tightly against Henry’s throat. Henry is already bleeding from a slash across his left cheek as his brown eyes stare at the blade while tears stream down his cheeks. Andrew looks at Vladimir and smiles. His green eyes begin to glow an eerie red color as he presses the point of knife against Henry’s skin, causing a small trickle of blood.

“Diaboli sum, et in peccatis eius, adulterium hic visitabo uxorem ejus, et contra abusus, et caro tua,” says Andrew in a dark, hollow tone, almost like a whisper.

"What did he say?" asks Detective Stetson.

"In Latin, he said that he's the hand of Satan, and the orderly is going to die for his sins of adultery with mistresses and abusing his children," replies Vladimir as he slides a key into the lock, and unlocks it, confused why Andrew is suddenly fluent in Latin considering during their sessions, Andrew had trouble with common English terms. He feels sweat drip down his cheek at the adultery being mentioned. He realizes that the orderlies are only armed with Taster, they might need the detectives guns because they’re about to enter a room where a man might die for accusations of cheating, He glances at the detectives and states, "If you're armed, detectives, I would get your pistols ready."

Before anyone can reach Andrew, they all watch in horror as Andrew shoves his right hand clean through Henry’s sternum, and out pops Henry’s beating heart in Andrew's hand as he slashes the throat of Henry. Andrew pulls his hand back through the now gaping cavity in Henry’s chest, and lets the lifeless corpse of Henry fall to the floor. Andrew buries the knife into Henry’s back before he takes a huge bite out of Henry’s heart.

Andrew spits out a mouthful of blood before shouting, "The evil is upon us! Repent for your sins! Death is coming!"

Vladimir shoves the door open as the patient walks backwards to the window. The patient rips off the steel bars covering the window, and tosses them violently at the door. Vladimir barely manages to duck as the steel bars fly over his head, and crash into the door, forcing it shut leaving only Vlad in the room with Andrew completely unarmed. As the others tries to break the door down, Vladimir watches in shock as the patient tosses the half-eaten heart as his chest.

"There's no stopping the red eyes, Vladimir.”

Vladimir rushes to the window as Andrew dives head first through the glass. He witnesses as Andrew lands on the pavement, broken glass glittering in the afternoon sun as blood slowly forms a pool beneath Andrew. Even at this height, Vladimir can see the red glow in the deceased's eyes as they look up at the sky.

A few minutes later, Vladimir hears something heavy land behind him with a thud onto the floor as Detective Ramirez shouts, "My god! What happened?"

Vladimir continues to stare out the broken window as a mass of people gather around Andrew. Vladimir is about to say something to Detective Ramirez when he sees a man with red eyes floating about a yard above the patient's body. The man stares at Vladimir before vanishing into thin air. Vladimir watches in horror as Andrew’s body spontaneously combusts, smoke covering the chaos unfolding below.

As the smokes rises past the window, Vladimir feels his body turn ice cold despite being ninety degrees outside and the humid air blowing through the broken window. Vladimir entire body goes taunt, unable to move any limbs. As he hears someone with a shadowy voice cackling inside his mind “You’re mine!”, he feels his body go ice cold like he is no longer in control. He is forced to turn around and his mouth being moved as he hears the same shadowy voice whisper to Detective Ramirez, "My soul is doomed for I killed the mother of my unborn child created out of wedlock, and there's nothing I can do to prevent my downward spiral,”. Vlad is forced to pick up the heart of Henry, and shoves the whole thing in his mouth. As he swallows the organ, he feels a tingly sensation in his chest. He takes one step forward as the room begins to spin violently. He collapses to the floor, and feels warm blood run down his chin. The last thing he remembers is seeing the same man with red eyes he saw this morning standing in front of him.