Dr. Chill's Project

Dr. Chill's Project

by Tom Hoobler

Smashwords Edition

copyright 1987, 2009 by Thomas Hoobler

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Chapter One

Allie was startled when the taxi swung around the corner. It seemed like someone had turned off the sunlight. But then she realized that it was only because this narrow little street was lined with trees that shut out the sky overhead. It was a peaceful place, and for a second, she let herself think: I wish the car would stop here.

And it did. Allie glanced nervously at the woman sitting next to her in the back seat. But she didn't seem to mind. She had already taken some money from her purse and was handing it to the driver.

The woman looked at Allie. Can you open the door? she asked. Allie knew this was one of the things everybody knew how to do. She reached for one of the handles on the door and yanked it.

No, that's for the window, the woman said gently. She reached across Allie's lap ad pulled another handle. The door clicked open. Allie saw the driver looking curiously over his shoulder at her. He'd probably never seen a fifteen-year-old girl who didn't know how to get out of a car. She felt angry, and for just a second she felt the way she had when she sent Raphael-

No. She reminded herself in time. She shook her head vigorously and looked away from the driver's face. Pushing the door open wider, she stepped out onto the sidewalk, trembling a little. She had promised herself she wouldn't do that again. No matter how angry she got.

Out on the sidewalk, the shade from the trees soothed her. The buildings here weren't nearly as tall as the ones they had passed earlier. The one right in front of her was only three stories high and was made of a brown-red stone that looked as if it might crumble away any minute.

Can you get the suitcase, Allie? the woman called from the cab. Allie turned and lifted the suitcase that the woman was pushing out of the door of the cab. It wasn't heavy. It only had all of Allie's clothes in it.

The woman closed the door of the cab, and it started off down the street. Allie forced herself not to look to see if the driver was still watching her.

Do you like it? the woman asked.

It? Allie said. She felt stupid again.

This is where we live.

Here? Am I...I mean... Allie was too afraid to say it, fearful that the woman would laugh and say, "Oh, no, of course you're not going to live here. We're just stopping for a minute until I take you--"

But the woman interrupted her thoughts. Yes, Allie, she said. You too. This will be your home now.

I thought... Allie began, and stopped again.

That you were going to another institution, said the woman.

Allie nodded. Was that what they called the old place? The nurses always called it the hospital.

Well, I know you'll have a lot of questions, but maybe we should start by taking a look inside, the woman said.

Allie followed her up the steps that led to the front door. As the woman took out her keys, Allie noticed a brass plate on the door frame. It read:

DR. BERTRAM CHILL, Ph.D.

DR. ELIZABETH HARTLEY, M.D.

That must be who the woman is, Allie thought. She remembered now. This morning, when Allie first saw her in the administration office, she had said, I'm Elizabeth. Allie hadn't paid any attention, because she thought this was just another doctor who was going to talk to her. You just called them Doctor. Their names weren't important.

But then a nurse took Allie back to her room to pack her clothes. The nurse had said, You be good now, hear? Wherever you're going. Behave yourself, or they'll send you back.

And then they were in the cab. Allie hadn't even had time to say goodbye to anyone. Not that anybody would miss her. Angela, her roommate, couldn't hear or talk or even see, as far as anybody knew. Catatonic was what the nurses called her. Nobody but a catatonic was willing to share a room with Allie.

On the cab ride, Elizabeth had pointed out buildings, telling Allie their names. Allie guessed it was a kind of test, to see if she knew anything about the outside. She knew lots of things from magazines. She recognized the Empire State Building when they were on the bridge coming into the city.

It was exciting to see, but her favorite was the Chrysler Building, silver and shiny and crowned at the top with a gleaming spire. It was like a castle in a fairy tale. It crossed her mind that maybe her parents lived there, but she knew...she knew...

She shook her head. She wouldn't try to think about them now. Maybe in a day or two she'd ask Elizabeth. Unless Elizabeth sent her somewhere else by then.

But right now, Elizabeth was holding the door to the house open. Inviting her to come inside. Allie picked up her suitcase and stepped forward. Whatever was inside couldn't be any worse than what she'd already been through.

She looked around. It really was like a real house, like the ones she'd seen in magazines. In front of her was a long hallway, with rooms going off it. Through the doors she could see furniture, couches and chairs that were covered in cloth, not like the steel and plastic chairs and tables at the hospital. And to the right a carpeted staircase, going up. Elizabeth led her over there. Let's see your room, shall we? she said.

Allie would rather have stayed downstairs. She didn't want a room. Having a room meant that there was someplace that they could put you, strap you down on the bed if you had been bad again.

But what else could she do? She followed Elizabeth.

Upstairs it still looked like a home. The doors on either side of the hall were made of wood. There was a carpet on the floor, thick and pretty, sort of a dark red. Everything in the hospital was green and gray.

Elizabeth opened the first door on the left. She turned and smiled, and Allie went inside.

She stared.

It was beautiful. The bed was large, with a patchwork quilt spread over it that looked soft and warm and new-not like it had been washed a thousand times. There was a bureau with a real mirror over it. A desk. A chair. A television set and...a window. With pink curtains. And no bars. Allie walked over and touched one of the curtains. It was so soft that Allie wanted to wrap it around herself.

You like the curtains? Elizabeth said from behind her. Allie dropped the curtain as if it were on fire. She turned and said, Oh, yes. Everything. I mean... She looked down. Is this really my room?

Yes, Allie. Yours alone. And you have your own bathroom over there. Elizabeth touched Allie's arm gently to turn her in that direction.

Allie jumped and jerked her arm away. Don't do that! she cried out.

I'm sorry, Elizabeth said.

Allie was shaking. Didn't she know? Didn't they tell her? You're not supposed to touch me, she said.

I'll remember, Allie, Elizabeth said. The way she said it, it sounded like it was something Allie wanted. Not to be touched.

Allie shook her head. She was thinking about the window. No bars. But she didn't want to ask about it, in case they had made a mistake. What should I do now? she asked.

Maybe you'd like to put your things away, Elizabeth said. Then you can meet the others. Everybody's eager to meet you. They're in the play room with Dr. Chill.

The others? You mean...besides Dr. Chill? Does he live here too?

Yes. He'll want to talk with you later. But that can wait. I'll drop back in half an hour or so.

She left, closing the door behind her. Allie waited for the lock in the door to turn. But nothing happened. She looked at the window, but didn't step toward it. She looked around the ceiling, looking for the surveillance cameras that were in every room at the hospital. The nurses station had TV sets where they could watch everything you were doing.

There didn't seem to be any cameras here, but maybe they were hidden.

Or the mirror. She walked over to it. She saw herself, and then looked away quickly. Her hair was stringy and dull. Her face was dumb-looking. Everybody said so. The only time she ever looked at it in the old place was in the consulting room with the two-way mirror. Everybody knew they watched you from the other side of that mirror.

This mirror was shinier than that one, though. Allie glanced back at it and made a face at herself. Nobody was around, so she even tried to smile.

She hated what she saw.

She went over and sat on the bed. It was so soft that she lay down. It felt so good. Not hard and lumpy like all the other beds she'd ever had. She could fall asleep right now. And not have to worry about everything.

But then she remembered the window. She sat up again. She wanted to find out. If somebody was watching, it didn't matter, not really. Even if she waited until night they would still be watching. They never turned out the lights in your room in the old place. They watched all the time.

So she went over and lifted the curtains. She looked out, seeing the tree-lined street. A boy went by on a bicycle. She drew her face back quickly. Maybe he was sent there to watch Allie.

When he'd gone, she leaned forward again and tapped the glass. It rattled in the frame, an old wooden frame covered with a million coats of paint. You could probably pry the glass out with a spoon, if you smuggled one off your tray.

There were handles on the bottom of the window. That surprised her. She touched them and lifted a little bit. The window slid up slightly. She waited. No alarm bell. Nobody came rushing through the door.

So she raised the window some more, her heart pounding with every inch. The outside air, slightly cooler than the room air, wafted across her face. She smelled something dangerous and scary-what it would be like to be free.

She stuck her head out. She could see the sidewalk below. It wasn't that far. She could probably drop down there and not hurt herself.

Brian was a kid in the old place who was always talking about escaping. He had these wild plans that everybody knew could never work. It just have him something to talk about. He ought to see this, Allie thought with a smile.

Two girls came walking along the sidewalk. They were carrying schoolbooks and talking. Allie wondered what it would be like to be them. To have a friend, go to school, and have a home to go to. Parents.

One of the girls looked up and saw Allie leaning out of the window. She said something to her friend, who looked up too. They waved and called to her.

Allie jerked her head inside. They were spies too, she thought. That was how they kept watch on you here.

She pulled the window down with a bang and then tried to put the curtain back just the way it had been before.

She waited. She stood there for a long time, but nobody came. The whole house was quiet, except for the noise of cars that went by in the street. It was creepy, in a way. The old place was always noisy, with people yelling and alarms going off, even late at night.

How long had it been since Elizabeth left? She had told Allie to do something. Put away her clothes. She'd better take care of that, or they might punish her.

It didn't take her long. She didn't have many clothes. She just dumped them in one of the drawers of the bureau. She had worn her only dress for the trip here, because the nurse had made her. She thought it was ugly, so she took it off now and put on a pair of jeans.

Then she hesitated between one of her T-shirts and a green knit pullover with short sleeves. She would rather wear the T-shirt, but maybe she ought to look her best. One of the nurses had given her the pullover. She had told Allie that green was a good color to wear if you had red hair.

She put on the pullover and looked at herself in the mirror. What was the use? She took her brush and pulled it through her tangled hair. It hurt.

Somebody knocked at the door. Allie put the brush down and turned around. The person at the door knocked again, louder. Weren't they going to come in?

It's not locked, Allie called.

The door opened. It was Elizabeth. She smiled. I see you've changed. That's a nice pullover. Ready to meet the others?

I wish I could do something with my hair, said Allie.

Just mention that to Rose, said Elizabeth.

They went down to the first floor, but instead of going into one of the rooms there, Elizabeth opened a door to some more stairs that led down to the floor below. Allie followed.

They entered a large room that took up the whole lower floor of the house. It wasn't anything like Allie expected. All around her were toys and games. There were six or seven large television screens along one wall. In the middle of the room stood a ping-pong table and a pool table. Near the other wall were some pinball machines and other sorts of games that Allie didn't recognize, along with some computer monitors and keyboards. A girl of about twelve or thirteen was sitting at one of them, with her back to them. And in another corner, behind a collapsible wooden barrier, was a boy about six playing with toys and plastic building blocks.

Elizabeth led Allie around the ping-pong table to one of the big-screen televisions. There was a battle on the screen, with men shooting at each other. It was loud. When Allie looked closer, she saw that they were just drawings, not real men. But the two people playing were real. One was an older boy, maybe seventeen, as far as Allie could tell.

The other person was a grown man, wearing a red T-shirt that barely fit around his fat body. He laughed when one of the onscreen figures fired a gun of some kind and killed the others. Got you, he called to the boy, whose face turned red as if the game had really meant something to him.

The man turned around, and Allie saw that the front of his shirt had white letters reading, THE DOCTOR IS IN. He stuck out his hand and smiled. Welcome, Allie, he said. I'm Dr. Chill.

Elizabeth made a little wave at him. Allie doesn't like to be touched, she said.

Oh, said Dr. Chill, dropping his hand. I'm sorry, Allie.

Allie felt like an idiot. "It's not that I don't