My Probation Consists on Guarding an Abandoned Asylum | Part 1

 

A dead guy called me. That’s the only explanation. Okay, too abrupt, let me start at the beginning.

Once you get out of prison, there is no reintegration, just a different cage. A lonely, abandoned island where I am supposed to take care of a ruined long-unused Asylum. One day I was expecting a resolution for my probation request, and suddenly I was heading in a mostly rotten boat to a piece of land not even the government gives a shit about.

“What do you think of your new home?” Asked me Russel, the man in charge of my new task, as soon as we were able to see the rocks appearing over the ocean.

“Wet,” I responded.

Walked away to the other side of the boat, which was just three feet away from him. Not understanding the clue, he approached.

“Come on, is better than San Quentin.”

Failed to cheer me up. He didn’t give up.

“I mean, you will be able to move freely. Yes, you’ll have responsibilities as in any job, but out of that your time is yours to spare as you please.”

“As long as what I wish is to be trapped in a 9 square mile piece of salty rocks.”

“You know how many prisoners would like this chance? You’re lucky for being a smart, good behaving son of a bitch,” said while looking away.

Ignored him.

“And its 12 miles,” Clarified me.

***

When we arrived, the guy navigating the boat jumped into the water to attach it to the barely standing dock. Russel got down as if he was arriving at Wonderland. I was less excited.

The island is a shitty place. No soil, just sharp, barnacle-covered rocks. No trees nor bushes, just small grass attempting to grow in between the stone. Only sound was waves crashing with the cliff and seagulls. Russel interrupted the peace.

“Welcome to your new home.”

Falsely smiled.

In the top of the hill, a gothic, wooden and stone, multi-tower building standing on pure will power imposed magnificently.

“That’s your workplace,” pointed Russel.

Walked through the old Bachman Asylum’s halls, squeaking swollen floors under every step and cobwebs covering the spoilt tapestry, which was “in” only half a century ago. Explained my tasks. Keep it clean, make sure it does not fall to pieces and no one gets in or out during the night (my shift, the only shift, actually).

“Oh, and make sure the cameras are working at all times. Remember we watch you through them.” Russel casually mentioned this privacy violation as we stepped into my miniscule unwelcoming office.

Dropped my bag with personal stuff on the plywood floor, softer than concrete (let me tell you). Approached to take a seat on my bed with blankets, something unthinkable in jail.

“Here’s your tasks list.”

Russel left it on the small desk next to the computer connected to the cameras. I nodded. He finally left the room, not even bothering to try to close the oxidized metal door. My comfy buttocks made me fall immediately asleep.

***

When night arrived, got out and decided I better do my job. Took a lantern and headed out. Walked along the fence hoping to calculate how big this place is. Rusty cold metal bars decorated with flourishes trapped me with the somber building. More aesthetic than what I was used to in the penitentiary system.

“Please, let me in, please!” A dirty tired-looking guy screamed at me.

The young bastard appeared out of nowhere.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“I know, but I need your help, man!” continued desperately.

“Part of my job is not letting anyone…”

“But please, you don’t understand, is dangerous out here,” interrupted me.

He tried to climb the fence. Sluggishly, punched him in the face. He fell back. My fist dripped the warm and oozy scarlet fluid.

“Told you I can’t let you in,” appealed diplomacy.

“You fucking asshole!” he yelled while running away.

***

Returned to my office. Sat in the chair in front of the desk; more accurately, I let myself fall on the corroded furniture. My eyes involuntarily landed on the screen, and when I noticed what I was looking, kept watching. Empty halls, some of them poorly illuminated, others just being discernable thanks to the night vision of the cameras (fancy). One of those was Wing J, until the image got replaced with static.

Gently hit the machine. Nothing. Not so gently a second time. No change.

Fuck! Grabbed the toolbox from underneath the desk.

***

Wing J was in absolute darkness. The mediocre electric company supply doesn’t power the whole building. Nonetheless, with my flashlight in one hand, a toolbox in the other and the scarce mechanical knowledge I learned in a repair shop class in prison, I attempted my best.

Got the camara working in no time. Almost like it wasn’t broken, just craving for attention. I returned it to the corner where it was supposed to go, framing the corridor.

I heard the sound.

Pang, pang, pang. A blunt object hitting metal. Pang! Increasing volume and intensity. PANG!

Never forget my first time walking through that open concrete space surrounded by cells after just being almost assaulted by baring yourself in front of seven police officers, now just protected with a thin layer of clothing. Your feet don’t move, guards push you to keep you advancing. Overwhelming cracking of all the prisoners hitting their bars with spoons and cups to welcome the new one.

PANG!

***

Swiftly went away, don’t want to know anything else about it. Checked my list of shores. The first one, cafeteria, clean it. Sounded like an easy task.

Not know what I was expecting to have to clean, it wasn’t the three-foot blood stain in the middle of the room waiting for me. This place has been abandoned since the nineties and multiple people have had my job, and no one had cleaned this shit? Fuck, why would it be important to clean that muddy blotch from a cafeteria in an abandoned psychiatric asylum? Why would there be needed someone to take care of a place like this?

Wasn’t going to get answers. And this was my best bet to be out of prison. That sticky and gooey splatter almost merging with the ground took an hour to get rid of half of it. Was determined to continue my endeavor.

Alarms interrupted me. Now fucking what?!

***

The main gates were open.

Checked the cameras attempting to spot something. Everything still. Just abandoned rooms and empty hallways I had already walked, with the only movement being the static from the old equipment. Blue light was frying my corneas as I surveilled every detail of what was not happening.

Something moved.

A human figure running through the cafeteria. Wing A. Wing B. Intercepted him on Wing D. Ironically, it was the destroyed part of the building, lacking a roof and half of the left wall.

Jumped against the figure. Both hit the ground. He tried escaping by kicking me. My right leg got the worst part. An intense throbbing shock flew through my femur. He crawled away. Used my flashlight to assault his ankle. Crack.

He turned. The soft moonlight lit the face of the boy who wanted to enter earlier.

“Wait, you don’t understand. You can’t leave me out there,” he begged me quickly as if he needed to fit all his ideas in a single breath.

Should have used it wiser. Smacked him in the face a couple of times until blood popped out, and his conscious faded away.

“Told you: You can’t be here,” I sentenced while recovering.

***

Carried his body and threw it in front of the fence threshold. Rocks scratched him a little, barely any damage done to be honest. Make sure the main doors were locked securely, even if they were half-decomposed.

Just one more hour till dawn.

I came across a Chappel. Never been religious, but I felt compelled to just peek in. It was closed, needed to look for the key. A task for another time.

There was also a library, wide open, but this one didn’t compel me to anything. I had enough for one night.

Ring!

As I arrived at the office, the phone was ringing. Freaking old phone mounted on the wall, with cord, round dial and everything.

Ring!

Haven’t noticed it was there.

Ring!

Skimmed my list to see if there was something about this phone, maybe was intended for communication while I was being watched through the cameras or something.

Ring!

Nothing.

RING!

Caught my attention a scratched instruction, the last one, number seven.

RING!

Ignored it.

RING!

Answered it.

“Please, let me in!” followed by a shriek.

Sounded like the trespassing dude’s voice.

Hang up. Went to sleep.

***

“What in the fuck happened here?!”

Russel’s complaint woke me up. Silence.

“The guy. What did you do to him?”

“Nothing, just hit him a little and kick him out.”

“Oh, really now?” Asked me sarcastically.

I nodded sincerely.

Before following him, I lifted the phone and placed it against my ear. No line nor sound at all.

***

In the lighthouse, also abandoned since the island was not in the way of any naval route anymore, a hundred yards away from the Asylum, the poor bastard was hanged almost seventy feet up in the air. His nude body, almost torn to pieces, drained of blood and kept together by exposed bones was repainting with red the east side of the fragile-looking building.

“Wasn’t me,” I argued.

“We’ll see. I’ll check the cameras.”

Sounded fair. Russel started walking away. Before he went too far, I had to ask.

“What’s the office phone for?”

“Nothing. Has been broken for years.”

He walked away, leaving me watching how two police officers with a lower paycheck than him had to bring down what was left of the man.

***

That’s how I ended here. Surprisingly, my mobile phone works and I even have satellite internet. Predictively, I’m banned from most sites. I can call and send messages, but almost all other smartphone features are blocked. Will need a hobby.

Apparently, I can access and post in this place. For now, I don’t have more to do than write what happens here to pass time and keep some sort of record. Maybe will prevent me from going insane. As you could have figured out, something is going up in here, but I refuse to go back to San Quentin.

Must sleep. I’ll work tonight. I’ll work every night.

Thanks for reading.