And a Madman Mumbled

By H. David Blalock

Monsters and Men.
Death and Danger.
Fiction and Folly.

Within these pages, find all of this and more from the pen of one of the most prolific and talented authors in Genre Fiction today.

And a Madman Mumbled...Tales from the Mind of H. David Blalock runs the Genre gamut, taking readers into worlds that will hopefully never exist and through fevered dreams that we only hope are just nightmares. Blalock carefully crafts each and every tale to thrill, excite, involve, and engage. Encounter creatures and stories both strange and familiar, and some even both, in And a Madman Mumbled...Tales from the Mind of H. David Blalock. From Pro Se Productions.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pro Se Press
• Release date: Aug 26, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310528774

Book preview

AND A MADMAN MUMBLED

Tales from the mind of

H. David Blalock

Published by Pro Se Press

This book is a work of fiction. All of the characters in this publication are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental. No part or whole of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the permission in writing of the publisher.

Copyright © 2015 H. David Blalock

All rights reserved.

Contents

Camouflage

The Face of the Enemy

The Last Drive

The Moment Frozen

No Pay, No Pass

Revenge

About the Author

CAMOUFLAGE

—:—

It was its strength that drew him, its timeless presence. Great, straight and powerful in its permanence, the oak stood a full thirty feet tall in the lower end of the exercise field. After each day’s exertions, Jason would find himself seated under its branches, watching the passing of the clouds through its leaves, listening to the soft voice of the foliage as it breathed against the sky.

At the other end of the field, Our Lady of Infinite Mercy Sanatorium stood starkly against the hillside, a series of boxes joined erratically in the fashion of old government buildings long abandoned by their designers and given over to other purposes. It was kept meticulously clean, well painted and swept by a crew of maintenance workers who swarmed over it with the single-mindedness of worker bees over their queen. Their faithfulness was comforting, as comforting as the tree’s presence was consoling. He needed these things and for them he had come to Infinite Mercy.

His memories were no longer an open wound but a healing scar. Still, there were the nights when he lie awake listening to the intermittent sound of distant traffic on the road and the dream would want to come back. But he would refuse and think of the tree. He would conjure its presence as he lay there in the dark and the dreams would falter in the face of its power. He would remember the patterns of its leaves against the pale blue of the afternoon sky and the dreams would retreat into the darkness of the unremembered; they were never forgotten, only restrained, for the human mind remembers all.

An orderly was making his way across the lawn toward him. Jason stood to meet the man. It was old Arnie. Jason liked Arnie.

Hiya, Jason, Arnie said as Jason stood and leaned away from the tree. Ready for dinner?

Thanks, he said and fell into step beside the old man as he turned back toward the building.

Like that tree, Arnie said for the thousandth time. He seemed to think this was a profound statement and Jason never denied that. Thirty feet tall if it’s an inch.

Yes, was all that needed to be said.

Lasagna tonight, Arnie went on, smiling slightly. Wife says it’ll make you fat…

Jason caught the worried glance Arnie gave him as he stopped his sentence. The old man seemed suddenly embarrassed and his distress made Jason want to reach out and lay a hand on his shoulder. They passed the last few steps in silence to the door of the building. Arnie was supposed to see that all the patients left the exercise field before dark so he would have to leave Jason at the door, but there was something between them now, something Arnie felt needed fixing. He faltered in his step, reaching to open the door for Jason.

I didn’t mean… he began but then his courage failed him.

Jason laid his hand on the man’s shoulder. He smiled his genuine amicability at Arnie and said, Get the others, Arnie. I’ll be all right.

The relief on the old man’s face gladdened Jason’s heart and, as the door swung shut behind him, he heard Arnie’s footfalls on the steps as he went to retrieve the others.

He threaded his way through the labyrinthine ways of the building toward the dining hall, passing the staff offices, doctors’ offices, patients’ quarters, and recreation rooms. The walls were uniformly beige, clean and preternaturally flawless. The dining room was as spotless and free of clutter-free as the rest of the edifice. Tables were arranged carefully to take advantage of the space available without giving the impression of crowding. A step from the front door of the dining hall brought him to the line that wound around to the cashier past the buffet. Staff, doctors, patients—all ate in the same room. Only the administrator and his board had a separate dining room and that was normally used only for entertaining. There was a feeling of camaraderie here in Infinite Mercy that gave Jason pleasure.

The lasagna was delicious; hot, cheesy, and heavy with garlic. Jason savored the aromatic musk of the food and chewed thoughtfully as he watched the others come in.

There were only about fifty patients at Our Lady of Infinite Mercy. There was a waiting list that stretched for years. He had been extraordinarily lucky that his case had come to the attention of the board and that the chief administrator had taken a particular interest in him.

He zeroed in on that thought. He had been at Infinite Mercy for almost two years and in all that time he had never summoned the courage to approach the board as to why they had chosen him for treatment ahead of all those waiting. There was a part of him that wanted to go on without asking why, just immerse itself in the gentle kindness of the sanatorium and quietly fade into the future. But, with every day, the part of him that asked that question grew more strident. It demanded to know the answer and soon, Jason knew, the answer would have to be found. The anxiety at that thought was less and less acute nowadays. He was almost ready.

After dinner, he returned to his room. His nightclothes were neatly stacked and folded on the chair by the bed. The book he had been reading was placed on the nightstand near the lamp, the tassel of a bookmark draped over the edge of the table from its niche between the pages. The bed itself looked inviting, the pillow thick and set against the headboard with care, the sheets pulled open and folded back on one side to show the pattern of the fitted sheet underneath. The scent of the room itself was colored by the perfume of a vase of flowers that stood atop the reading table by the ventilator.

He picked up the book, pulling it open at the mark. As he started to scan the page, there came a polite knock at the open door. He turned to face a smallish, mustachioed, spectacled and balding man in a sports coat and jeans.

Dr. Genrich, Jason said, closing the book and replacing it on the nightstand. Please, come in.

Dr. Genrich