Enjoy “Window Beyond the World,” a supernatural thriller set in the Southern California mountains. The novel is being serialized here in weekly installments. The co-authors are Sun columnist John Weeks, writing under his full name John Howard Weeks, and William S. Thomas, former Sunday Editor of The Sun.
A new chapter will be posted each Friday. There are 37 chapters in all. This free online edition is somewhat abridged for language and adult situations. For those who wish to read ahead, and enjoy the entire unabridged novel, it is available now in book form.
“Window Beyond the World” (iUniverse, $14.95), by John Howard Weeks and William S. Thomas, can be ordered from local bookstores or from online booksellers including Amazon.com.
WINDOW BEYOND THE WORLD, CHAPTER 3, THE DEMON ROOM
How is the Tofranil working out for you? the doctor asked.
Okay, I guess, Lance said. The driving is better.
Any new incidents?
“No. A few little thrills. No big ones.
Tell me about the little thrills.
Oh, occasionally, on the freeway usually, when Im boxed in by
traffic, and having to go faster than I like, Ill have a twinge.
Anxiety?
Yes.
Anything else?
The usual things, like I told you before. Im not crazy about
bridges still, or high sweeping interchanges. They give me the willies, especially when they sweep right.
And you dont know why that is?
No idea.
But you feel like the Tofranil is helping? Or do we need to try something
else?
Its helping. It was getting to the place where I was avoiding
freeways altogether. I just couldnt handle it, driving that fast. Now, Im managing it.
Better, at least.
Lance Segundo was in the demon room. That was Lances name for it.
It smelled like soap, disinfectant and latex gloves. Dr. Merle Lin had
taken over a whole medical office building, as his practice had grown, so he saw
patients in any one of a number of different examination rooms. He
could take his leave of one patient, who would still be dressing, fussing in one room, and hurry to his next patient, already waiting in the next room, while a third
patient was being shown into a third room. Dr. Lin chronically overbooked
himself, however, so this assembly-line system, which was meant to streamline the
operation, was meaningless. Patients always had to wait. And they didnt do it
cheerfully, either. There was constant grumbling in Dr. Lins waiting
room. But patients kept coming back.
He was a good doctor. A very busy doctor.
Dr. Lin was an internal medicine specialist, but he would take an
interest in just about any kind of problem you might have. Skin rash? Okay.
Toothache? Okay. Going crazy? Okay.
Lance liked the fact that Dr. Lin was Asian. Even though the guy was
totally American-trained in conventional medicine, he must surely be
knowledgeable in the mysterious healing arts of the East. At least thats what
Lance told himself, and half believed it.
Dr. Lin was Lances regular doctor, and Lance had seen him only every
year or so, for routine checkups, until his first big anxiety attack. Now
he was coming in every month, because the doctor wanted to chart the effectiveness of various pharmaceutical approaches. Tofranil was the third drug they
had tried since the attack.
Lance had been on the freeway that day, on his way to work, and he had
looked back, right, over his shoulder, to see if the next lane was
clear, because he wanted to pass a bus that had slowed in the fast lane. He caught a
bright reflection from the bus as he moved his head. The silvery flash in
his eyes as he swept his gaze across the back of the bus seemed to trigger a seizure
of some sort. Lance thought he was having a stroke. He struggled to control
his eyes, his head, his hands, to keep from crumpling, rolling into a ball, the
fetal position, closing his eyes, leaving the car to crash where it would. It was
like he was paralyzed.
With great effort he fought to maintain, to control, to guide his car
to the right, one lane at a time, almost blindly, barely hearing the sound
of honking horns as one, or maybe two or three motorists swerved to make room
for him, until he could pull off the freeway. He stopped the car and sat
there, not moving except for the hammering of his heart, until his eyes seemed to shift back into focus and his neck, his limbs, his hands relaxed. The spell
passed. But he was badly shaken. All that day. Still.
Any new side effects from the Tofranil? Dr. Lin asked.
Im still having nightmares.
Yes, thats common for some people. Interesting, isnt it, that a
drug formulated to reduce anxiety would give you nightmares? Of course, we hope
your wide-awake self will benefit in a way that outweighs the side-effect.
Well, thank heaven I dont suffer all the side-effects listed in the
literature. Its a scary list, let me tell you. Nausea, sweating, constipation,
impotence
Memory loss, psychosis, Dr. Lin said, continuing the sentence after
Lance paused. Yes, the drug companies have to cover their rear ends,
dont they? List every possibility, so there wont be any surprises.
Memory loss? Lance said, intrigued.
Yes. Why? Is that a problem youre having?
I dont know, doc. I honestly cant remember. Lance gave him a blank
look, then laughed. Sorry. I couldnt resist. But seriously, yes, my
memory is terrible. The older I get, the worse it gets.
Dr. Lin nodded. Some memory loss is normal as you age. The mind will
lose, or discard, a certain amount of information as you go along,
without any prompting. But psychiatric drugs can prompt the mind to lose, or
confuse, a great deal of information. And if youre combining the drugs with
alcohol, the losses can be extreme.
Dr. Lin gave Lance a sharp look, then pressed when Lance looked away.
Youre still moderating your drinking, right?
Yes, Lance lied.
How much do you drink now?
A glass or two of wine after I come home in the evening, Lance lied.
And more on the weekends?
Maybe three or four, Lance lied.
Dr. Lin didnt relax the hard edge in his stare until Lance
reestablished eye contact. You dont need to hear my lecture again about drinking too much, he said.
I know it by heart, doc.
OK, and its especially important not to mix drinking with
psychiatric drugs. Right?
I know.
OK, lets move on then. Dr. Lin glanced at the notes he had been
making in Lances chart. We were talking about nightmares. How often are
you having them?
Had one last night.
Tell me.
Im skimming along, flying, over water. Suddenly theres a ramp in
front of me. I hit it and it propels me straight up to a great height,
breathtaking, dizzying. I see a vast mountainous landscape below. Its very beautiful. Im actually exhilarated. But the next instant I lose control. Its as if Im
breaking up in midair. I begin falling in a long looping arch to my right. I hurtle toward
the ground, my doom, my death. The moon, or maybe its the sun, is
strobing in my eyes, my brain, black white black white black white. I hear all
these jabbering voices and see all these faces, angry faces, sad faces, horrified
faces.
Then I woke up, all sweaty and panicky, and felt like hell for a
couple of hours.
Yes, that dreamIve heard that one before, havent I?
I have that dream all the time, with minor variations. More so
lately.
Ive asked you this before. Do you want me to arrange an appointment
for you with another specialist?
Id just be sitting in a room, talking to a doctor, same as I do
here, right?
Not necessarily a doctor. Or not a medical doctor, anyway. A
psychiatrist has a medical degree, yes, but a psychologist does not.
So whats the difference?
A psychiatrist will charge you a lot more.
Lance laughed. More than you?
Oh, yes.
Well, Im seeing you about every month now. Thats about all the
doctoring I can take. Ill just leave it at that for now.
Its up to you.
Lance shrugged. He was looking at the demon.
Lance called this the demon room because he could make out a demon
in one of the cupboard doors. The cupboards were unpainted wood, and the
whorls of the grain presented endless abstract images. The first time
he had sat in this room his eyes had locked on one image that formed quickly
into a distinct, complete figure. Every time thereafter he was able to conjure up the
same image immediately.
It was the figure of a devil with tiny feet and hands with long
fingers splayed over its swollen belly. A tiny, tattered wing was on each shoulder.
Its head was dog-like, with a long snout. It had dead, indifferent eyes, but a
garish, jokerlike grin. A stream of blood flooded from one of its nostrils all the way
to its feet.
Lance did not point out this image to Dr. Lin. The image reminded him
of one of his other recurrent nightmares, the worst one, the one where
he is with a woman he is not supposed to be with, and he is wracked
with shame, with remorse, and he is weeping, and she is weeping, and
suddenly her belly begins to grow. He watches as a baby is born, and its a demon child, born dead. He looks at the woman, and she is a demon now, too, but alive, and she is grinning. And she is Gwen.
He did not tell Dr. Lin about this dream.
NEXT: CHAPTER 4, THE WINDOW.
“Window Beyond the World” (iUniverse, $14.95), by John Howard Weeks and William S. Thomas, can be ordered from local bookstores or from online booksellers including Amazon.com.
