Joe Gribble - Darkest Edge

Mark and Ellen carefully moved to where Scott was looking through the window. He backed away to let them get a look.

Mark cautiously put his face up to the window. He could clearly see into the open door on the other side of the hallway. Inside he saw an older man with a streak of gray in his hair. That had to be Dr. Hans Drexel, Natalie’s father. Mark could also see the edge of a hospital bed — and someone was laying in it. He couldn’t see who, but the patient’s arm was above the sheets. Mark saw a large scar on the patient’s forearm, near his wrist.

“It’s our only option,” Dr. Hans Drexel said. “Start the IV.”

Ellen’s camera shared the window with Mark, capturing the activity.

Mark watched as Hans and the orderly rotated the hospital bed. Once Hans stepped out of the way, Mark could clearly see the patient.

Bradley Williams laid on the table. Electrodes were attached to his body in multiple places. He was strapped down, his limbs visibly shaking.

Mark’s hands went up to the window pane, holding either side. “No,” Mark said. Mark’s left hand reached for the door knob.

“Mark, don’t,” Ellen said.

Across the way, Mark saw Dr. Natalie Drexel step into view on the far side of the patient bed. She was adjusting an IV line. The orderly pushed a cart toward the patient’s head. The cart held some kind of old electrical device. Thick wires came from the old device and connected to a pincer type assembly with foam padding on either side of the pincers.

Hans Drexel flipped a switch on the old machine. A red light came on. Hans adjusted a knob and a needle moved into the center of a gauge.

The orderly placed a rubber device in Bradley’s mouth.

Bradley’s eyes went wide. He tried to scream. He twisted violently from side to side, the restraints making his efforts to escape futile.

Doctor Natalie Drexel held up her hand. “We’re not ready,” she said. “The sedative isn’t…”

Mark recognized the machine. He had seen it before, though he wasn’t sure where. All he remembered was that it inflicted a lot of pain. Pain that he was sure Bradley would soon feel. Mark twisted the door knob and flung the door open. He raced across the hallway.

“Mark, No!” Ellen shouted.

Scott fell across an old box, but righted himself and stumbled through the door after Mark.

The orderly heard the commotion and blocked the doorway, impeding Mark’s entry into the room.

Hans looked at Natalie. “No time,” he said. He took the pincer device and opened it, placing each pad against Bradley’s temples. He closed the pincers tight and pushed a button on the pincers sending a surge of electricity coursing through Bradley’s body.

Bradley’s eyes distended and his hair bristled with electricity. His body convulsed and spasmed as the electricity surged through his brain.

Mark fought with the orderly, but as he watched Bradley suffer under the electricity, his legs faded. His knees buckled and he sagged down. Mark’s eyes fixate on the sight before him.

Mark’s vision went blurry. The body on the gurney was no longer an old, wrinkled man, but a young face, contorted in pain.

Mark watched the young man’s entire body spasm as the electricity coursed through him.

Mark’s body was nearly limp as he watched Bradley undergo the shock treatment, and the orderly had little problem keeping Mark at bay. Mark’s feeble attempt to break through was as ineffective as his warning to the doctors. “Stop it,” Mark said, quietly, his mouth having trouble getting the words out. Again, a bit louder, “Stop it,” he said.

Dr. Hans Drexel released the switch and released the pincers from Bradley’s head.

Bradley’s body collapsed back down onto the gurney. His body relaxed, but Mark could see his eyes still move without control, flicking back and forth.

Hans Drexel adjusted the knob on the machine, the needle maximizing in the gauge. “Again,” he said as he once again closed the pincers on Bradley’s temples and closed the switch.

Scott rushed up from behind Mark, plowing into the orderly. He hit the orderly high, almost knocking him to the ground. The orderly grabbed one of Scott’s arms, and spun him around. Scott reversed the move and pulled the orderly into a standing full Nelson, pinning the orderly’s arms in the air above his head and pushing his head down into his chest. Scott’s fingers interlaced behind the orderly’s neck, creating a nearly unbreakable hold.

With Scott’s intervention, Mark broke free just as Bradley’s body flexed completely taut, almost levitating off the gurney. A light wisp of smoke floated from one of the pincer pads tightly pressed to Brad’s temple.

Mark pulled his fingers into a solid fist. “I said NO!!” He leaped toward Drexel, just as Drexel removed the device from Brad’s head.

Mark was within arm’s length of Hans, his fist raised, ready to pummel the man.

“No,” Bradley said, his voice coarse, almost quiet. He spit the rubber tongue protector out of his mouth. “No,” he repeated.

Mark stopped. He looked at the man lying on the gurney.

Bradley was calm, composed. His eyes were now focused. He looked around.

Ellen stepped into the room, still filming.

The orderly stopped fighting for his freedom, but Scott still held him securely in the wrestling hold.

Everyone’s eyes were on Bradley.

Natalie Drexel released the straps holding Bradley down, and Bradley tried to sit up.

Dr. Natalie Drexel and Mark both helped him. Mark continued to hold Bradley up. Natalie offered Bradley a cup of water, and he took a drink.

“Thanks,” Bradley said, his voice raspy.

Bradley looked at Dr. Hans Drexel, who was putting the pincers back on top of the shock machine. “The same?” Bradley asked the doctor.

“I think so. Just a few minutes. I thought you would want to see him.” Hans Drexel nodded at Mark.

Bradley reached for Mark, grabbed his shoulder, then slid his legs off the gurney. “Help me stand,” Bradley asked.

Mark stood, helping the old man up off the gurney. Bradley stood, wobbly, with Mark’s support. Wires hung from his body.

Bradley looked at Mark, then nodded toward Hans. “Don’t blame him,” Bradley told Mark.

“I don’t understand,” Mark said.

“Electro-convulsive therapy,” Hans Drexel explained. “Some called it Electro-Shock Therapy. We used it over the years.”

“I know,” Mark said. “I read your papers. It was only partially successful.”

“We advanced the state of the art in many therapies. This was one of them. But as you said, it was only helpful to some patients.”

“I was one of the early patients,” Bradley said.

“You’re barbaric!” Mark said to Hans.

“No,” Bradley said to Mark. “I volunteered. I knew what I was getting into.”

“That’s crazy,” Mark said.

“That’s what a lot of people called me… crazy,” Bradley said. “I had dreams, terrible dreams.”

Bradley took a sliding step forward. Several of the electrodes fell away. “Help me walk,” he asked Mark.

Mark held Bradley steady as he shuffled toward the door. Mark couldn’t fathom a reason anyone would subject themselves to such obvious pain. “Why would you volunteer for something like this?” he asked.

“When you’re as bad off as I was, you’ll try anything,” Bradley said.

They turned and stepped into the hallway.

Scott released the intern from the hold. The intern flexed his arms and re-adjusted his twisted shirt.

The doctors stood back, giving the two men some space and privacy. Ellen, though, continued to film. She followed Mark and Bradley, but kept a wary eye on the two doctors. She stepped into the hall and continued to capture the story.