Free The Walking Man by Wright Forbucks Page B

Room 302. Her greeting was as friendly as ever, but I could tell she was nervous to be with me—the master of disaster.
    Before she could say anything, I said, "Maria, top drawer of my dresser, pictures."
    "Sure, Buddy," she responded, putting down her books and magazines to do as I instructed.
    "Oh my God," Maria yelled. "Who are these kids?"
    "They're my nephews, Frank and Oscar."
    "Oh my God, Buddy," Maria said. "They are too cute! What's with the little one with the Mohawk and the missing front tooth? And what is he doing to you?"
    "That's Oscar," I said. "And he's sticking his dinner fork into my thigh."
    Maria laughed. "They look like trouble."
    "They are," I said. "I love them."
    "Buddy, I am so, so happy for you." Maria smiled.
    Our meeting was just like old times; my disclosure of my murderous past seemed to have been forgotten. Maria read and laughed in the carefree manner I was accustomed to. Midway through her visit, Chef Royalston, my best friend at Leicester County Hospital, no doubt having been informed Maria was in the house, showed up with a tray of toll house cookies and Nurse Judy. The cookies were so delicious that it was impossible to stop eating them. After eating two, I noticed Maria put two in her pocket.
    Nurse Judy fed me. It was the first time I exposed Maria to my sloppy eating habits. She didn't seem to mind.
    While I chewed, Nurse Judy talked. "Maria, have you ever been to the hospital's Halloween party?"
    "No," Maria said.
    "You're invited," Nurse Judy said. "You can come as you are or dress up."
    "Can I take my buddy?"
    "I don't know, ask him."
    "Hey, Buddy, do you want to go to the Halloween Party with me?"
    I was almost too thrilled to talk.
    "Sure," I said as something that felt like a walnut rolled down my chin.
     
    ~ ~ ~
     
    Before Maria joined the hospital's Party Committee, the tradition I hated most at Leicester County Hospital was the Annual Halloween Party. Each year on Halloween, always on the exact date, not the weekend before, all patients were dressed in costumes to "party" with the hospital's volunteers (half the town of Shyshire). The event was held in the basement of the old hospital. Being the one-time location of a "patient restraint facility," a.k.a. a torture chamber, the lowest floor of the old hospital was littered with remnants of its horrific past—arched doorways with thick metal jambs, and slash marks carved into cell walls, no doubt to count the dates to freedom via release, or execution. It was a naturally spooky place and the perfect spot for a Halloween Party.
    The walls of the old basement were composed of stacked granite blocks with joints filled by smaller stones. Over the years, the surface of the stones had become covered with un-paintable grime from the burning of coal then oil. The ceiling of the basement was relatively low, about eight feet high, and covered steam pipes dripping with old insulation—asbestos covered with foil, the good stuff that made personal injury lawyers rich by causing mesothelioma. Overall, the basement was remarkably barren. There were some racks of shelving that held rarely used emergency supplies: oil lamps, generators, shovels, cots, and things like that. And on one wall there were three sets of rusted iron shackles, once used to restrain the excitable boys and gals of a far less tolerant era.
    Many relatively normal people, even Juliette Dritch, claimed the party site was haunted by a slew of demonic spirits. The most mentioned ghosts were Mary the Knitter who supposedly poked random male butts with the set of knitting needles she used to kill her husband, and Hungry Jack Foster, who reportedly whispered, "You look delicious," into selective partiers' ears.
    In my opinion, I'm being kind to my fellow quadriplegics, and myself, when I say the hospital's Halloween party was a freak show. Decorations aside, which were always fantastic, there was something unnerving about being in a room lined with wheelchair bound ghouls… I