Seven-X (29 page)

“You may still experience some side effects from hypothermia so we need to monitor you a little longer to make sure that you are in stable condition.”

I knew that I couldn’t tell him how I really felt. I wanted to get out of that bed and out this place. What would it hurt to ask?  “Can you undo this restraint, please?”

Dr. Preston walked back toward me touching my hand, then my head, looking for a reaction. I was calm and listened, smiling as he told me, “I’ll take the restraints off, but promise me you won’t get out of bed.”

“My computer. I need to write. I have to write things down,” I told him.

“Good idea,” he said as he unstrapped me. I could feel the blood loosen in my body and begin to flow again. The energy I was so desperate for was returning.

“Keep your IV on and don’t get out of bed,” he ordered. “If you need something ring the nurse. I’ll come back to check on you. If everything’s fine, you’ll be released.”

What did he mean, released? I had to probe that response deeper because he saw me light up saying, “You’re letting me go?” 

“Yes, if you’re healthy.”

“Go. Go! Not back to Ward C. I can go?” 

“Eddie, you’re not a prisoner,” he responded, as if he knew nothing of what was going on here.

I said it again to make sure he heard me clearly. “I can go home.”

“If you want,” Preston said. “You’ll need your discharge papers, but that shouldn’t be a problem.”

 “What do you? I mean. How? What do I? How do I get those papers?” I said, trying to be clear with a mind of confusion.

He brought me my computer and said, “Here. Write. But only if it calms your mind.  You have to relax. I’ll be back with everything you need to go.”

“Thank you. Thank you,” I repeated, desperate and needy, but I wanted him to know I wanted out of here. “Thank you. I’m ready to go.” I said again.

“I need to review all your tests results before I can check you out, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. Thank you.”

“Take it easy,” he warned. “Promise me. Or I have to keep you here until you are healthy.”

“I promise,” I said, watching hope walk out of the room.

JOURNAL ENTRY:

THURSDAY DECEMBER 23, 2010 – 10:07 AM

That was bizarre! It’s like I had my Delorian again and traveled back in time, before all my trouble began. 

I’m hoping Dr. Preston was telling me the truth. He doesn’t seem like the lying type. Why would he lie? 

I’m not sure what his motive would be. Was he trying to provoke a reaction or get me excited about my freedom? Was he testing me to see how I’d react? 

All of the thoughts began pouring into my head. 

The whole night started coming back to me as if in a vision in broad daylight. The theater of my soul is about to play me another movie, so it’s my job to write it all down.

JOURNAL ENTRY: 

THURSDAY DECEMBER 23, 2010 – 1:27 PM

I wrote everything down and it organized it by time, so it makes sense when you read this. 

That was a strange and vivid trip into death and it felt surreal even writing about it. Sitting on that hospital bed I watched my dream replay itself in my mind, with my eyes closed and my head spinning the reels of film. 

I didn’t even feel like I was writing. I felt like I was a conduit or court stenographer recalling a witness’s testimony. My fingers moved across the keyboard, documenting what I heard and saw in my head.

Reading this back to myself, I’m not sure how I wrote it.  

I’m not even sure how I feel about it. 

It’s pretty trippy stuff to think about. 

Everything that’s happened. Not just to me, but Dobson, Tyler, this whole place. It’s all so peculiar and distant and yet I’m right in the middle of it, trying to maintain control.  

This whole investigation really played tricks on my brain, much like I was warned so long ago. I’ve lost sense of my surroundings, because I felt like I was dreaming again. When I snapped out of it, I found myself back where I started, inside my cottage. 

Everything is here placed in the same position, like the day I left or the day I arrived. I confuse the two, not fully comprehending this perception of time.  

My days, my nights, even weeks have merged as one. 

It seems part of me has been here for eternity, like this place holds a part of my soul. I look out the triangle window like it’s a portal in time, or a portal to another dimension. The leopard statue stares back at me, warning me of my place here, guarding the gates of the portal.

 So I closed my eyes and tried to think about what just happened.

I vaguely remember Dr. Preston returning and giving me a clean bill of health. I’m holding his signed papers now, so I know it happened.  

Scanning the room I see my clothes, my camera, audio recorder, drives, lenses, wallet; it is all here, organized like I left it.

 And I would never have known time had passed, had I not looked into the mirror.  There I saw a different man. 

My face was buried behind weeks of hair growth. My skin was pale and dry, my eyes looked bruised. My fingernails were uncut, long and dirty. I could feel dried blood, dirt, hair and pieces of skin beneath them. 

I could taste the acid from my stomach bubbling up into my breath. I could smell the odor of an unwashed body. But for the first time in awhile, I felt some sense of control. I could change what I saw.

 I pulled out my electric razor and began to peel off the matted hair. There were scratches on my face that burned as my beard fell into the sink. I discovered more war wounds hidden beneath my hair, as I began shaving my scalp. 

The sharp, stabbing pains in my head were no longer a mystery as shards of broken glass had wedged their way into my skull from my car hitting the tree. My long dirty fingernails were like pliers, plunging into glass and skin and digging out the bloody pieces. 

My mangled nails were next to be cut as they were holding on to the last remnants of my battle. 

Stepping into the hot shower was a sadistic mix of pleasure and pain. It was soothing, yet burned at the same time. My muscles ached from the restraints. 

I felt so rigid and tight, that moving around in the shower brought stabs of pain to various parts of my body from muscles that had been constricted and a body subject to such a high volume of stress. 

 The water began to awaken my senses and I took pleasure in feeling pain, because that meant I was feeling something.  After experiencing the void of death, any feeling became a positive sign that there was still life in me. 

Once cleaned up, I began to feel some semblance of normality, and emptying my mind on paper made me realize it was time to take back control of this situation and myself. 

I put my notes together and organized my data to see where I stood in my investigation. The true beauty of it all is that all my files are here, untouched. 

My credit card thumb drive is full of information and videos. I’m ready to go home with what I have of this story.

To top things off, along with Dr. Preston’s discharge papers is a signed consent form from him, Dr. Haworth and Reverend Billings that allows me to bring my camera to my exit interviews.  

The three of them are conducting a tribunal, where each one gives me a final assessment. Once I pass, they sign me out. 

My next meeting is with Reverend Billings, before closing out with Dr. Haworth. 

This consent to film means I’ll have all this on tape, which proves my story is authentic.

 Looking through these files, I have the institution on tape. I have escaped death row prisoners Annette Dobson and Timothy Tyler on camera. I have the birth of Kevin Dobson.  I’ll have Billings, Preston and Haworth  interviewing me, to back my claims.

The only claim I can’t back is proof of any unregulated drugs, the greenhouse, or any video of Annette Dobson’s exorcism.  

These are the last pieces of the puzzle.  But there is no sense in taking unmitigated risks at this point. Nothing could be worth the hell I just went through.

On my way back home, I’ll look for the greenhouse. I’ll videotape my journey, so I leave a path of breadcrumbs back to this place. 

I can be home for Christmas and surprise Mel.

JOURNAL ENTRY, AUDIO LOG:

THURSDAY DECEMBER 23, 2010 – 1:45 PM

“For though we live in the world, we do not wage war as the world does. The weapons we fight with are not the weapons of the world. On the contrary, they have divine power to demolish strongholds.  We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ.  And we will be ready to punish every act of disobedience, once your obedience is complete.”

2
^nd
Corinthians 10:3-6.

“This is Eddie Hansen. It’s December 23
^rd.
 I’m in a Bible study with Reverend Billings at the Uphir Behavioral Health Center in Uphir Texas. Reverend Billings will confirm that this is part of my unconditional discharge from this institution.”

“Yes, Eddie,” Billings replied. “Study this. Your life depends on it.”

 “Why would you say that to me? Is that a threat?”

“No, Eddie. I said it because I care what happens to you and whether you like it or not, we are heading into a battle for your soul.”

“You hear that ladies and gentlemen. This is what I deal with here. The Battle Royale for my soul in the Uphir Octagon, only on pay per view.” I joked, before addressing the Reverend in a serious tone, asking, “How did you come to this conclusion?”

“The same way you did, in a dream.
In the last days, I will pour out my Spirit on all people. Your sons and daughters will prophesy, your old men will dream dreams; your young men will see visions. Joel 2:28.
You heard that at the post office, right?”

“That old guy told you,” I answered. “I saw him at the chapel. I know you know him. That means nothing.”

“God told me,” Billings stated confidently. “The word of God goes beyond death. He showed you last night.  The same way I know you heard my prayers for you. And these three remain, faith hope and love and the greatest of these is love.”

“How’d you get a hold of my journal?” 

“I didn’t. I feel the spirit of God talking to me, telling me these things so that you believe. He wants you to know Him.”

“What does he want?” I said. “If he’s even real.”

“Come to him. Let Him release you from the demon that torments you and you can be free. That’s your story. It’s Annette’s story. It’s my story. Tell that story to the world.”

“I can’t,” I told him. “You know what’s really going on here. It’s my responsibility to report it, without bias.”

“Yes Eddie. I do know what’s going on. Eight demons are returning to find a home. They will destroy everything that opposes them. I need to lock them in a vessel, inside Ward E before they kill someone else.”

“Kill?” I asked.

“Yes. Kill… Rudy Martin’s body was found yesterday outside a basement window behind Ward C. This morning Donald Lambeck committed suicide after he tried to kill Kevin Dobson.”

“What?” I said, shocked. 

“Donald apprehended one of the guards, then stormed into Ward B threatening to kill the baby. When I dealt with the spirit directly, Donald turned a gun on himself, then shot himself in the head. When the spirits came out of him, they said that they were coming for you!”

“Don’t fuck with my head!” I yelled, getting up in Billings face. 

“Eddie. This is why you need to take every thought captive. Don’t listen to me! Listen to God! Without the filter of Jesus Christ, the thoughts that plague your soul go unfiltered into your heart. For out of the abundance of the heart, the mouth speaks. With Christ you filter your thoughts through the Holy Spirit and separate truth from the lies that allow demons to influence you. It’s life or death, Eddie. What do you choose? 

“I choose to leave,” I said gathering my things.

“Is that what you really want?”

“Yes! I want to go home.”

“You’re free to go, but I can’t guarantee you’ll make it home,” Billings warned.

“Are you are threatening me?”

“I’m protecting you. 

“You’re protecting Haworth and his experiments. You’re protecting your concept of God, not me. Want to protect me. Let me go. I don’t have to believe the things you do.”

“Okay Eddie. You don’t. I’ll sign your discharge.”

“Thank you,” I said making my way to the door, ready to leave.

“Before we see Dr. Haworth, I need you to show you something.”

VIDEO LOG, JOURNAL ENTRY:

THURSDAY DECEMBER 23, 2010 – 3:33 PM

“This is Eddie Hansen, Thursday December 23, 3:33 pm. I’m with Reverend Billings and Annette Dobson and I have permission to videotape this conversion.”

“Of course,” said Reverend Billings.

“Yes Eddie,” Dobson told me as she extended a smile. But there was something underneath it, that made me wonder. “I just prayed for you,” she said.

“Thank you,” I answered back, knowing something was bubbling beneath her surface. Extending her hand to me she said, “I understand your pain.”  

Then Billings intervened putting me on the spot, asking, “Is there anything you’d like to say to Annie?”