Welcome to the Madhouse Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Special Offer

  Prologue

  Chapter One: Inauspicious Beginnings

  Chapter Two: Nelson Mandela

  Chapter Three: The Great One

  Chapter Five: Scored

  Chapter Six: Drop Dead Gorgeous

  Chapter Seven: Memprints

  Chapter Eight: On a Mission

  Chapter Nine: Reboot!

  Chapter Ten: Angels and Choices

  Chapter Eleven: Cardinal Rule

  Chapter Twelve: Lockdown

  Chapter Thirteen: A Living Hell

  Chapter Fourteen: Rabid Flea

  Chapter Fifteen: Multiple Personalities

  Chapter Sixteen: The Voice

  Chapter Seventeen: The Poet

  Chapter Eighteen: Tears

  Chapter Nineteen: More Than Forgiven

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

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  WELCOME TO THE

  MADHOUSE

  S.E. Sasaki

  Copyright

  ODDOC BOOKS

  P.O. Box 580,

  Erin, Ontario, Canada, N0B 1T0

  www.oddocbooks.com

  Copyright © S.E. Sasaki 2015

  ISBN

  978-1-988463-02-5 (ebook)

  978-1-988463-01-8 (paperback)

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher

  The right of S.E. Sasaki to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or localities, is entirely coincidental.

  Find out more about the author at

  www.sesasaki.com

  Dedication

  For David, Daniel, and

  Christine Sherrington,

  with all of my love

  Special Offer

  SIGN UP HERE FOR YOUR FREE COPY OF MUSINGS:

  “http://www.sesasaki.net/musings-free-book/”

  Prologue

  Great, rapid, gulping breaths shuddered her frame. Her ribs scissored in panic. Staccato-like, her heart beat against her chest wall, as if it were pounding hysterically to get out. Fear-impregnated sweat entirely soaked the flimsy cotton medical gown she wore. She struggled, moaning, but the tight cloth restraints did their job, holding her fully outstretched and securely in position. Movement, never mind escape, was next to impossible. She let out a pitiful whimper that coiled around the soundproofed chamber but failed to land on compassionate ears. Taut muscles strained as she attempted, futilely, to free herself. The uncaring, inanimate shackles held firm.

  Silently, smugly, he studied her struggles with intense, predatory fascination and anticipatory excitement. A ghost of a smile wafted across his near-angelic features. He knew very well what his victim was experiencing. She had experienced it already over many sessions, with his mind linked intimately to hers. Each encounter, he had tasted her fear; he had sampled the river of her distress and gorged himself on the depths of her helplessness, heightening it, magnifying it, until her mind was shrieking, uncontrollably, in intense terror.

  How he delighted in his power.

  The ability to twist and manipulate and subjugate the minds of his subjects, to make them willing pawns in all he desired—in what they would come to desire themselves—was an intense pleasure he found far too seductive. Revealing to himself much more about his own warped personality, he was yet unable to stop, unable to step back, unable to abandon his course. If he were to examine it all closely—which he did not care to do—he would have had to admit that this sadistic thrill was far too addictive and impossible to resist.

  It was all so easy.

  And without hesitation, they came, oblivious to what he did to them in their sessions. They came voluntarily, eagerly, in the belief that he was actually helping them, that he was the answer to all of their problems. It was almost laughable and yet also part of the enigma, the inscrutable puzzle, the sheer . . . mystery of what he studied, what he was so intent on exploring. There was so much work to be done.

  Serious research into understanding important questions about the human mind needed to be answered by someone who possessed the sheer audacity and intelligence, the fearlessness and daring, to penetrate and dissect the dark unknown nebula of the human psyche. Answers, which could only be obtained by someone who was courageously willing to take the risks, were still to be discovered. He knew he was the only one to uncover them.

  How far could he go?

  To be more exact, how far would he go?

  He ran his hand slowly up the woman’s inner thigh, stroking and caressing, up under her gown. She began to struggle again and whimpered, like a little child, her pupil-dilated, wide-eyed efforts at escape suddenly much more animated. He pressed his hand hard down upon her mouth, his strong fingers gripping into her face, although he knew no one would hear her cries, as his other hand performed the acts that would provoke and make her relive her most profound terror. He would be two hours, forcing her through this. All the time he had for a ‘session’, before he had to attend one of the medical space station’s innumerable, inane, incessant meetings. He would take full advantage of the time with his subject and, unquestioningly, he most certainly had the will.

  Ironically, when it was all done, she would thank him for it, but only after he had blocked her conscious mind of any memory of the session.

  Ultimately, she would learn to crave his attentions and would do anything he asked.

  They all did. It was the power of suggestion.

  In some ways, it was far too easy. He almost felt disappointed at the lack of difficulty or discovery. He longed for a new, more formidable subject to study—preferably female, preferably beautiful, and preferably of indomitable will—whose intelligence, brilliance, and self-assuredness would give him some new frontiers for his experimentation and new thrills, as he broke her down. He was deeply in need of a challenge.

  His question to be answered at the moment was just how far could he make a subject go?

  That was the burning question, wasn’t it?

  Chapter One: Inauspicious Beginnings

  The wolf whistle was singularly impressive, not only because of its purity of sound and that it then continued on into the 1812 overture, but also because it originated from the thick, brown lips of what looked like an enormous orangutan, dressed in a shiny, white spacesuit, and holding a helmet under one arm.

  As Lieutenant Grace Alexandra Lord M.D. stepped off of the Conglomerate space shuttle, arrayed before her in a disorderly, lounging group were a wolfman, two tigermen, a grizzly bear human, and the whistling, male orangutan soldier. They were all enormous in stature, broad of shoulder, attired in combat space suits and clasping space helmets, which presumably fit their massive heads. Each of them stared avidly at Grace, their gazes so alarmingly intense, that Grace felt like she was the next course to be served up on their dinner plates. The sight of their glistening white fangs, exposed in various permutations of bestial leer, sent a shudder down her spine.

  These were combat soldiers, with genetic adaptations giving them the enhanced appearance and massive strength of fierce predators. They all seemed to be grinning at her, but perhaps that was just the animal adaptations they possessed. She could swear a couple of t
hem were actually winking at her. Inanely, the little voice in her head wisecracked that the wolf whistle should have come from the wolfman. Following on the heel of that thought, the man who was genetically enhanced with the attributes of a wolf, tipped back his white and silver furry head and emitted a yip-yip-yipping yowl.

  The initial shock of seeing such a ferocious looking menagerie dressed in combat spacesuits designed for human soldiers, was not only disorienting, but daunting indeed. At least the intimidating ‘incisor’ display was short lived. When the genetically-modified, animal-adapted combat soldiers finally noticed the shoulder bars on Grace’s own spacesuit—indicating her higher rank as Lieutenant—they instantly snapped to attention, becoming serious and respectful, their eyes suddenly staring straight ahead and thankfully no longer all over Grace.

  These enormous military combatants of the Conglomerate, who had physical enhancements chosen to make them bigger, stronger, faster, and fiercer, formed a disciplined line. They stood almost shoulder to shoulder, with rank ascending. They all crisply saluted Grace. At full attention, these men were even more intimidating than before. They towered over her.

  Grace examined their faces perfunctorily, not wanting to gawk. They were all handsome men, but two had the facial coloring and eyes of a tiger, one had the silver-grey markings of a wolf, and the orangutan had the long arms and bowed legs, stringy, reddish hair and large brown eyes, characteristic of that species. The grizzly bear was a sergeant and had the large round head, brown fur, and massive build of that fearsome mammal. To Grace, they all looked very frightening.

  Grace was about to return their impressive salutes, when off to Grace’s right, there came a deafening roar, as if from some colossal beast in horrible agony. She had no time to look in the direction from whence the bellow came, before she was grabbed by a very strong pair of hands and launched straight up into the air. Her duffel bag, which she’d been carrying over her right shoulder, tumbled out of her grasp, as she flew upwards, somersaulting towards the dark, shadowy ceiling above.

  Grace was shocked speechless. She sensed a huge rush of air pass beneath her, as something enormous motored through the space she had just vacated. Had she still been standing in that original spot, she would have been trampled!

  The question was, by what?

  As the low gravity of the space station pulled Grace back down towards the Receiving Bay floor, she was caught by another pair of muscular hands that whipped her sideways, just before the mysterious, hurricane-like force flew by her again, missing her face by a fraction. Grace felt the gale of the behemoth’s passage gust past her cheek. She was being thrown around so violently, her head spun, and she had to clench her jaws tightly to avoid vomiting. She had still not gotten a good look at whatever was charging at her, when she was flung upwards again by another strong pair of hands.

  A savage, enraged roar erupted. It shook the walls of the space station’s Receiving Bay. Whatever it was that was howling, was on a murderous rampage, and it seemed single-mindedly determined to attack Grace. She was like the proverbial red cape to this raging bull and she had no idea why. Finally, after her eyes stopped whirling for a second, she got a brief glimpse of what was targeting her, just as she was being snapped into the air again. If her eyes were not deceiving her, it was a gigantic, gorilla-adapted soldier in a muddy, torn spacesuit. Broken chain restraints lashed from his wrists and ankles.

  Blazing, maddened, scarlet eyes turned to focus on Grace out of the depths of black wrinkles. The sclerae of the gorilla soldier’s eyes were a brilliant red, his irises a deep, dark brown. His pupils were enormous. Grace knew immediately that this soldier had been exposed to trifluoroquinthiomataze, a gaseous weapon used in biological warfare which, when inhaled, caused psychosis, paranoia, eventual blindness, and ultimately, death.

  Grace was suddenly shoved flat to the ground, her right cheek bouncing hard off of the rough floor. The enraged gorilla soldier dove over top of her, like a rocket whizzing by. She realized that this delusional gorilla soldier had probably just been brought in from a battlefield where Tri-FQ had been released. In his gas-induced psychosis, there was no telling what he was seeing or thinking. He desperately needed the antidote.

  The torn chains flapping from his limbs clearly indicated that he had broken the restraints that had been for his own safety, as well as others. Grace suspected the medics had run out of the antidote for Tri-FQ in the field. They were always prepared for its possible release. Unfortunately, this powerful gorilla soldier had managed to tear himself loose in his madness. Space only knew what was going on in the soldier’s mind. The bright red sclerae indicated that the gorilla soldier was heading rapidly down the road towards insanity and irreversible disease.

  It was paramount that Grace get the antidote into him as quickly as possible.

  “Get me a syringe full of 100 milligrams of Antiquint along with 1 gram of Stilzine, stat!” Grace screamed at a silver android, standing off to one side of the engagement, just as the two tiger soldiers leaped on top of the infuriated gorilla soldier and attempted to hold him down. They were both flung away, as if they were mere insects, and the Tri-FQ poisoned gorilla again made a charge straight for Grace.

  ‘Why me?’ a little voice in Grace’s head wailed, as she watched the enraged gorilla soldier stampede straight towards her. All she could focus on were the reds of the combat soldier’s eyes, as she tensed for the inevitable impact. A split second before he slammed into her, the grizzly bear sergeant leaped into the gorilla soldier’s path and threw a right hook that Grace thought would have crumpled a space shuttle.

  The gas-crazed gorilla soldier just shook off the punch and threw one of his own. The sergeant grunted with the impact but stood his ground. Grace gawked as the two titans began swinging their massive fists, striking each other with punishing blows. Grace was then struck in her abdomen by a diving wolfman, who tackled her out of the way, just as the grizzly bear sergeant was forced backwards by the advancing gorilla. The sergeant stomped onto the spot Grace had just vacated.

  The two genetically modified soldiers, grizzly bear versus gorilla, roared deafeningly at each other. They continued rapidly launching lethal punches, kicks, and blocks, inhumanly and powerfully fast. Staccato-like, the impacts of those furious assaults rang out loudly in the Receiving Bay. Grace could barely see the movement of their swinging limbs, they flew so fast. She knew that any one of those punches, connecting with her body, would have left her in a puddle of broken bones.

  Skidding across the floor, wrapped within the wolfman’s arms, Grace finally came to rest at the feet of the silver android. Silently and gracefully, it bent down and offered her a filled syringe with a long, large bore needle. On the side of it was neatly printed Antiquint and Stilzine, with the accompanying milligram dosages. It was enough drug to fell a creature twenty times Grace’s size and weight. With no time to thank the android, Grace found herself air-born again, her right hand clutching the syringe tightly. Tossed from the wolfman to the orangutan soldier, who then whipped her up over his shoulder—almost making her drop the syringe!—she was carried up the side of the space shuttle.

  Quick on the orangutan’s heels was the gorilla, who had managed to throw his grizzly bear opponent out of the way. Grace stared directly into maddened, blood red eyes, as the gorilla soldier shrieked his frustration, lunging after her. She saw the two tigers then leap onto the crazed gorilla’s back, grabbing an arm each, while the wolf dove to wrap his arms around the gorilla’s legs. The grizzly bear sergeant then rushed up between the two tigers and locked his great arms around the drug-crazed soldier’s chest, pinning the gorilla’s arms in a tight bear hug from behind. The sergeant began slowly squeezing the chest of the huge gorilla soldier while the other three men held on, anchoring him in place. The psychotic gorilla struggled, but the grizzly bear’s arms held firm, the sergeant’s face etched with strain.

  “Hold him tight,” ordered Grace, in a loud, commanding voice. “And put me down!” she ho
llered at the orangutan. The apeman released Grace so suddenly, she slid off the side of the space shuttle and almost fell to her knees. Cursing, she raised the precious syringe high in the air to protect it.

  “Trying . . . Lieutenant,” grunted the sergeant, groaning under the stress of trying to restrain the struggling gorilla, whose body surged and bucked and fought the grips of all four soldiers.

  “Hurry, ma’am . . . please?” the wolf panted.

  With the syringe poised in her right hand like a dagger, Grace leaped up onto the bent back of the wolf. She grabbed, with her left hand, the grizzly bear’s right forearm and drew herself up into the bellowing face of the deranged gorilla soldier. As he bared his enormous sharp fangs, trying to bite her, she drove the needle containing the Antiquint—an antidote for trifluoroquinthiomataze—and Stilzine, a major tranquilizer, into the gorilla’s jugular vein (or at least that was her hope). The plunger activated and the drug shot into the gorilla’s neck, as Grace held it there as firmly as she could.

  The thrashing, enraged gorilla screamed his spittle-laden fury straight into Grace’s face. As she squeezed her eyes shut and turned her face to the side, Grace prayed the gorilla soldier carried no communicable diseases in his saliva. She suspected her hearing would never be the same.

  The next thing Grace knew, she was flying through the air again. The gorilla had broken the grizzly bear’s hold, throwing his arms up and outward. Unfortunately, this time there was no soldier quick enough to catch Grace and she landed hard on her back. She was sucking for air, unable to breathe, the wind knocked out of her by the impact.

  As she lay gasping and struggling, tears coming to her eyes, the gorilla took three bounding steps towards her, the empty syringe still protruding from his neck like an indictment. His eyes blazed with murderous intent. He reached out deadly, curved black claws towards Grace, and all she could do was stare helplessly. One dilated, reddened eye, then the other, rolled upwards and back in their sockets. So slowly it would have been comical if Grace was not afeared for her life, the gigantic mountain of muscle keeled flat on his face.