Episode 21: Voices- Where's Jenks?

Episode 21- Voices

“Keep the change, Brother. I got a little work to do.” Grant pounded five beers in twenty-two minutes, practically a bar record. He wasn’t even trying. He heard nothing inside his head and started his stumble out the door.

“Hey asshole, you’re not driving!” Dennis was strict on these rules. He had a fold out cot in back and was kind enough to let patrons sleep until sober. He always pushed for the girls to stay over; his kindness with girls was legendary.

“No, I’m not. I’m walking six blocks north to Carol’s house, MY HOUSE.!” Grant’s finger careened off his intended target and threw him into the bar stool. “I wanna see my daughter, man. I need to save Sally.”

“Save her from what? Save her…”

The door slammed on his words and Grant bumbled toward the car to retrieve Jenkins. Something wasn’t right: glass, dents, blood, damage, empty.

Jenkins was gone.

Grant searched for the voices in his head. Suddenly, he was disappointed at their disappearance. He sensed great need for them in the upcoming hours, but he had shut them away. He made a mistake.

“I’m sorry voices, come back. I need you.”

He ran to the filing cabinet in his mind, slamming open the drawer and removing the box. Fumbling with the key around his neck, he twisted it open as the lid flew exposing nothing. His box was empty. The voices were not there. He opened other cabinets and searched smaller boxes, wooden boxes, gold boxes, paper boxes… all to no avail. He needed them, and they were gone.

He paced, controlled his breathing and ran his fingers ripping hair. He was alone. He always wished and dreamed for this moment, but now upon him, he was scared. He stood alone in the street next to a stolen car with an insane man on the loose. Things could not get much worse, but he knew they would. “Where would Jenkins go? If I were Jenkins… SHIT!”

Grant knew where Jenkins went. He shouldn’t have stalked the house three times. He shouldn’t have pointed at the windows. He shouldn’t have done a lot of things, and now the voices were gone, he was drunk and had no direction.

Grant weaved north up the hill. Jenkins was going to kill Smith. Killing was the intended plan, wasn’t it? The voices never told him, but he had guessed. Why else bring Jenkins? Grant was no killer; he was a drunken crazy lunatic, but not a killer. Jenkins held no capacity for remorse; there was no other reason for him to venture away from the hospital. The voices needed Jenkins in the plan to kill Smith to save Sally.

Grant was running fast.

This wasn’t about jealousy; this was about saving his daughter, right? Grant didn’t love Carol anymore, but he wanted Sally to know her real daddy. This Smith was a violent man set to ruin their lives, right? He would be a terrible father yelling at nonsense and pinching arms for punishment and cutting off fingers and slamming glasses on tables and starting fights in the kitchen. Grant believed his sister, but needed the encouragement of the voices.

“Voices! I need you! Please come out now. Please?” He pleaded and ran and prayed he wouldn’t be too late.

He longed for the muffled sounds indicating their existence. They were gone. Grant felt nothing. He wanted to collapse and cry, but he had no time for self-pity. People were going to die and it was his fault. What kind of man escapes a mental hospital with a lunatic on a mission to save his daughter? His theories about Smith were based on dreams, voices and the collaboration of his alcoholic codependent sister.

As he stood miles away from the asylum with someone’s death looming, Grant felt sane for the first time in many years. He needed to collect Jenkins. He needed to go back. They both belonged behind barred windows and security cameras.

He looked across the street into Carol’s house (his house) and saw no lights. They were not home. Jenkins was at the wrong house.

Grant stood in front of the empty lot and vomited.