Virtual American Gothic - Second Season Episode Eleven Dr. Matt's Big Adventure by Robyn Russell ********************************************* NOT TO BE ARCHIVED TO A WEB PAGE WITHOUT THE AUTHOR'S PRIOR CONSENT. Special Guest Stars: Dr. Glen Malcolm....................Samuel L. Jackson Mayor Jonathan Kane..............Brent Spiner Sheriff Abe McCormick...........Carl Weathers Lucila Mae Buck......................Polly Holiday ********************************************* "So you're planning on letting old Harvard return to society?" Lucas asked, tossing the medical report back onto Dr. Guthridge's desk. "I don't have a choice. There's no reason to keep him here at Juniper House anymore." "Oh?" Lucas raised an eyebrow. "That boy took a potshot at me. Four people had to wrestle him to the floor." "I can't keep patients here without due cause. Dr. Crower has shown a remarkable turnaround. He's no longer a danger to himself or others." Lucas's eyebrow arched a little higher. "Maybe I think differently. Maybe I think that his condition warrants something drastic to curtail his destructive behavior. Like a lobotomy." "I couldn't authorize such an operation unless it was medically necessary!" "There'd be some folks, Dr. Guthridge, who might wonder if it was medically necessary to test experimental drugs on those autistic children. In fact, there'd be some folks--like those on the state licensing board--who might wonder about the objectivity of a researcher taking money from a pharmaceutical company to test those self-same drugs." "That was a legitimate test! I did nothing wrong!" "The parents of the three children who died might see it differently. So might a court of law. Unless, of course, Dr. Crower gets his--treatment." Lucas rose to his feet. "You think it over. I know you'll make the right decision." "Evelyn, what's this about Matt Crower being scheduled for a lobotomy?" Dr. Malcolm asked. "Glen, I know how close you are to Mr. Crower, but I think it's time you accepted the fact that conventional treatment is just not working." "Nothing in his condition warrants such a drastic course of action." "I agree that Matt has shown marked improvement, but I think we both know that it's only a matter of time until his next seizure." "Draconian treatment is not the answer!" "Glen, I don't like to pull rank, but I will if I have to. Matt Crower is going to have his operation tomorrow morning." "Matt! Wake up!" Dr. Malcolm whispered. "Dr. Malcolm? What are you doing here?" Matt whispered back, groggily. "Matt, we have to get you out of here. Don't ask any questions, just get on this gurney and lie still." The sharp jangle of the phone roused Lucas Buck from his usual hearty sleep. The frantic voice of Dr. Guthridge shredded what was left of his slumber. "When?" he barked. "Alright, you organize a search of the hospital grounds--well, search them again. I'll get on it from this end." Buck hung up and paused a moment wondering which of his deputies to summon to duty. Floyd was on the late night shift at the station. Ben it was then. Bam, bam, bam. There was a pause and then the heavy knocking repeated. "I'm coming, I'm coming." Loris staggered blearily into the main room, still tying her bathrobe. "What is it?" she asked, yanking open the door. "Mornin', Miss Holt," Buck said. "May I come in?" He shouldered past her without waiting for an invitation. "What do you want, Sheriff?" Loris was too tired to care how she sounded. "Guess you haven't heard the news." "What news?" Loris was alert now. Sheriff Buck only brought one kind of news--bad. "Dr. Crower has escaped from Juniper House." Buck tilted his head from side to side, almost as if he was listening for someone. "When?" Loris asked. "Sometime early this morning. You wouldn't happen to be concealing any fugitives from justice, would you, Miss Holt?" "Dr. Crower is NOT here." "That's good, that's real good." Buck paused with his hand on the bannister. "Cause if I were to come by and find him here, I'd have to shut you down. Do I make myself understood?" "Loud and clear, Sheriff." Loris's voice was tight with anger. "Then I'll be on my way. Have a good morning." Buck left, leaving a chill in the air not associated with the early hour. As soon as she had locked the door again, Loris headed back to her room for a quick shower and change of clothes. Matt was going to need all the help that he could get. "Lily was right. Dr. Matt is comin' back for me," Caleb muttered to himself as he snuck away from his listening post at the top of the stairs. Yanking on his old clothes and snatching up his backpack, Caleb clambered out of the hall window and half scrambled, half slid down the roof until he could catch the branch of the old oak tree in the backyard. Once on the ground, he circled around the house and found his bike. "Caleb! Caleb! Time to get up . . ." Loris's voice trailed away when she saw the rumpled, still warm bed and the open window down the hall. She didn't have to be psychic to guess where her young ward had gone. Damnation. When she caught up with that boy, she was going to tan his hide good. "Matt, how are you doing back there?" Dr. Malcolm asked, not taking his eyes off the road. "Not too bad, considering. Where are we going?" "The courthouse at Sulphur Springs. I know the sheriff there and some of the doctors over at the mental health center. As I see it, your best chance is to get the judge to issue an injunction to keep Fulton County from extraditing you. Then you can get a reevaluation from a third party psychiatrist and a competency hearing." "Are you sure that they're are going to find me competent?" Matt asked, self-deprecatingly. "Matt, you told me once not to give up on you. Don't give up on yourself." "What's that up ahead?" "A police roadblock. Damn!" Dr. Malcolm stopped the car. "It looks like they're searching every vehicle." "Guess this is where we part company." "Do you know the way to the county line?" "I can find it." "All you have to do is make it across. I'll get in contact with the authorities in Sulphur Springs. Matt," he added, as Dr. Crower was about to slip out. "Good luck." "You, too, Doctor." Matt made his way into the brush along the roadside. "Morning, Dr. Malcolm. You're out early." Lucas was impeccably turned out and wide awake in stark contrast to his bleary-eyed fellow officers. "Time and tide wait for no man, Sheriff." "How true." A yawning Ben reappeared from the interior of Malcolm's car and gave Lucas a negative head shake. "Take it you know that Dr. Matt Crower escaped from Juniper House some time early this morning?" "I haven't spoken to anyone at the hospital." "Suppose not." Lucas strolled casually around the car's trunk, then placed his hands on the roof of the car and closed his eyes. "You alright, Sheriff?" "Just lost in thought. You have a safe trip now, Doctor." "Ben," Buck said as Dr. Malcolm's car disappeared from view. "Break out the dogs. I've got a feelin' our escapee is close by." Caleb had pedaled almost to the edge of town when it occurred to him that he had no idea what direction to search in. When Buck had been chasing him, he hadn't had any sort of plan. He had just run whichever way he could. Where would Dr. Matt go? Caleb caught sight of a crow watching him from a nearby tree. That's what he needed--a bird's eye view of the county. He dug around in his pack until he came up with a shiny cat's eye marble. "Hey, crow!" The crow eyed him quizzically. "There's a shiny new marble in it for you if you can help me find Dr. Matt afore the Sheriff does." The crow hopped down closer, fascinated by the glittering glass ball. The bird studied Caleb for a moment, then with a flash of ebony wings, it took flight. Spiraling up to a cruising altitude, the crow began to wing its way across the fields. Caleb pedaled after it. The baying of the bloodhounds was getting closer. Heedless of the branches that slapped his face or the roots that tripped him up, Matt plunged on through the underbrush. The stitch in his side was very painful now, worse than his bare feet or stinging arms. Suddenly the underbrush gave way and Matt barreled down a small gully into some muddy water up to his waist. Water. Dogs couldn't track a man through the water, could they? Half swimming, half slogging, Matt began to work his way upstream. "Lucas, the dogs have lost the scent," Ben said, apologetically. "Looks like he may have gone into Dead Man Slough." "Split and up and search the banks on both sides. He's goin' to have to come ashore some time," Buck replied. Closing his eyes, Buck launched his mind upward. A bird's eye view, that was what he needed. His hospital garb soggy with silt and God knows what else, Matt dragged himself up the bank. Exhausted from pushing against the slow moving current, he just lay there for a moment trying to recover his strength. "Thought you were through running away," said a familiar voice. Matt blinked his eyes. Deputy Ben Healy leaned against a nearby tree, dressed in full uniform, just as Matt had seen him when they had taken that long trip up to Juniper House a year ago. Matt blinked again and the image was gone. Oh, God, not again. Desperation drove him to his feet and he lurched up the side of the gully. He had to hold it together long enough to get to safety. Selena's yellow Corvette sped smoothly along the highway like a hunting cat. "Get your motor running, head out on the highway . . ." Selena sang along with the radio, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. She scanned the sides of the road, alert for . . . what? She couldn't say, but her instincts were always good. "Looking for adventure and whatever comes my way . . ." As she rounded the bend, a man appeared in the road waving frantically at her to stop. On the shoulder, a blue sedan was parked with its hood up, the radiator smoking. Bullseye. "Miss, I need to reach the authorities in Sulphur Springs right away. It's an emergency!" "Hop in, Mr. .?" "Doctor. Doctor Glen Malcolm." The pyschiatrist wasted no time getting into the passenger side. "Would this emergency have to do with poor Dr. Crower?" Selena asked, smoothly as they peeled out for the county line. "Yes, it would," Malcolm replied, surprised. "You're in luck, Doctor. I have friends in high places." Selena picked up her cellular phone and speed dialed Mayor Kane's private line. Matt ploughed through the brush, weaving like . . . like a drunken man. He grinned mirthlessly at the sheer irony of it all. Sure, he might be exhausted, dehydrated, and hallucinating, but he was stone cold sober. "Drunk again, Matt?" It was Lily, his Lily. She was wearing the pearls he gave her after his latest binge. "You promised me you'd quit." The vision was gone again. Matt leaned against a tree to catch his breath. How close were those dogs anyway? He had to keep going. He stumbled over a tree root, fell flat, and found himself looking at Sheriff Buck's boot. The smug bastard was still wearing his grey overcoat in the sweltering heat. Buck looked down at him. "I gave you the truth," Buck said. Matt came to his senses with a shaggy white dog licking his face. He looked up to find himself a few feet away from a rickety barn. From somewhere behind him came excited barks and yelps. Not far away now. He had to take cover. As he staggered toward the cool darkness of the barn, the white dog bounded off in the direction of the search party. The crow Caleb had been following settled on top of the askew weathervane. The Harringtons' old barn. Caleb propped his bike up against a fallen down fence post and slowly entered the structure. The walls had lost boards here and there and sunlight streamed in crazy patterns over the floor. Old farm implements dangled precariously from rotting hooks. Under one of the piles of mouldering hay, Caleb saw a flash of blue. Encouraged, he got down on his knees and began to paw through the hay. A bloodied hand shot out and grabbed him by the arm. Caleb cried out and scrabbled frantically to pull away. The hay convulsed and a dirty, ragged man emerged. "Dr. Matt?" "Caleb?" the scarecrow said. The same Yankee accent. "Yes, sir." The hand released his arm. "What are you doing here?" "Came looking for you. You thirsty?" Caleb dug in his pack and pulled out his genuine, army surplus canteen. Matt gulped the water until it poured down the front of his torn tunic. "You don't look so good, Dr. Matt." "I've felt better," Matt said with a weak smile. "I'm gonna get you some help." Matt didn't reply. He was unconscious. "Aaarwk!" said the crow, perching on the old hayloft. Caleb picked up a scrap of Matt's uniform and offered it to the crow. "Take this to Miss Holt and bring her back here right away." The crow just looked at him with its jet bright eyes. "I'll put fresh table scraps out for you every day." The crow swooped down, snagged the bit of fabric from Caleb's open palm, and flew off toward town. "Lucas, the dogs have lost the scent again," Ben said, wiping the sweat off his face with a hankerchief that had seen better days. The sun had burned off the morning fog and the day was shaping up as decidedly hot and sticky. "What is it now?" "Stray dog." "Round 'em up and bring 'em back. I've got a feeling old Harvard is nearby." "Lucas." Ben put out a restraining hand. "I don't want any 'accidents' happening to Matt Crower." "Your conscience bothering you, Mr. Healy?" Lucas gave his deputy a cold stare. Ben gulped the fear down like bad coffee. "I won't stand for Matt being killed." "Get yourself on back to the office, Ben. Floyd's had a long shift." Lucas's blue Crown Victoria roared away in a spray of gravel. Another fruitless search. Loris contemplated her next move over a glass of iced tea. Caleb would be where Matt was or where he thought the doctor would be . . . A flutter of wings at the open window interrupted her reverie. Those damn crows were as bold as brass. This one dropped a scrap of blue fabric to the floor and watched her intently. Out of curiosity, Loris picked it up. Plain fabric. Cheap. Dull institutional color. Like hospital garb. Juniper House. "Where did you get this?" she said. The crow cawed insolently and flapped over to a nearby bush, almost as if it was beckoning her to follow. Lord, she was losing it, talking to birds. Crows find things, though. Bright things. Scraps. Carrion. Oh, God, no. "Let's go, crow," she said, snatching up her keys. As if it understood her, the black bird took flight. Caleb put the wet cloth back onto Matt's forehead. Something about the way the doctor slept reminded him of how his daddy, Gage, used to sprawl on the sofa after rolling in from the tavern late at night. Gage snored, though. Huge rattling snores. Matt didn't seem to even be breathing heavily. The sound of a car rolling up made him start. Feverishly, he began throwing straw over Matt's body. Maybe the sheriff wouldn't notice. "Caleb?" Loris's voice. "Over here." "Caleb Gage Temple, don't you ever leave the house like that again. I was worried sick." "I found Dr. Matt, Miss Holt. He's hurt bad. I hope you can fix him." "Get out to the truck and bring in the basket on the front seat," Loris ordered, taking in Matt's condition at a glance. After about an hour of smelling salts, cold compresses, bandages, a change of clothes, and a thermos of chicken soup, Matt had begun to feel halfway human. "I think you might have a mild concussion," Loris said, touching the bruise on his temple. "Did you hit your head?" Matt gingerly fingered the area in question. "I seem to remember tripping over a tree root. How do my prospects look?" Loris sighed deeply. "There are police roadblocks to the north and the south. I think your best bet would be to doubleback toward Golgotha and tried to ford the Johnson River. It won't be running too high this time of year." "Didn't know you were such an escape artist," Matt replied, with a shadow of his old smile. "There was an Underground Railroad here in the old days same as in other Southern states. Heard plenty of stories about it growing up." "Sheriff's coming!" Caleb said, from where he'd been keeping watch. "You've got to get out of here, Dr. Matt!" "He'll see you if you try to run for it now. Hide under the hay," Loris instructed. Caleb had no sooner finished stuffing Matt's old clothes under another haypile than Buck's shadow blotted out the sun. "Caleb, Miss Holt," Lucas said, striding into the barn. "What are you two doing out here?" "Having a picnic," Caleb improvised. "That so." Buck scanned the sagging hayloft for signs of disturbance. "With an escaped mental patient on the loose, that hardly seems wise." "We haven't seen anyone," Loris said, her hand tightening on the old shovel she had found. "What are you doing with that shovel, Miss Holt?" "Pitching hay, Sheriff." "Don't you need a pitchfork for that?" "You pitch your way, Sheriff, I'll pitch mine." "Wouldn't be hiding anything under that haystack, would you?" "No, sir," Caleb responded. Loris was clutching his shoulder something fierce. Lucas casually removed a rusty pitchfork from the barn wall. "In that case, you won't mind if I pitch a little hay myself." Venomously, he thrust the rusty tines into the stack so hard that both Caleb and Loris gasped involuntarily. But there was no blood. Again and again Lucas stabbed the haystack until the entire pile was demolished. No Dr. Matt. From the back of the barn came the sound of a lone pair of hands, clapping. "You know, I've been wondering how a half-crazed city boy from the East could possibly elude the illustrious Lucas Buck and entire Fulton County Police Department for so long, but I guess I have my answer now." Jonathan Kane looked as cool as ever in his crisp, double-breasted beige suit, his voice dripping with elegant sarcasm. "Do continue, Sheriff. I'd like to give the City Council a full report on how the taxpayers' money is being spent." "What are you doing here, Mayor?" "Let's just say I've taken a personal interest in this case." "No case yet." "But there could be. Wouldn't want the Sheriff's Department to get sued again, would we?" Lucas bared his teeth in a half-growl, half-grin and strode out. "Now then Miss Holt, I suggest that you and young Mr. Temple return to town. Man hunting is something best left to professionals." Flashing a smile as sharp and white as that of a shark's, Kane tipped his straw boater and departed. As soon as he had gone, Caleb scrambled over to the wall closest to the demolished haystack. He pushed aside several of the loose boards to reveal a space just large enough for a desparate man to squeeze through. "You reckon Dr. Matt got away alright?" "I hope so, Caleb. I surely hope so." Outside, it began to rain. Rain. It felt good. Matt had forgotten just how quickly the weather in Trinity could change. He blundered onto the highway without meaning to and quickly took refuge again in the underbrush. If only he could hitch a ride. Matt grinned mentally at the image of himself--bruised, scratched, wearing clothes several sizes too big-- trying to thumb a ride. Any sane driver would turn him over to the police providing that they stopped at all. That gave him an idea. He selected a young tree, already askew, and began to push. The muddy ground around its roots gave way and the tree slumped to the ground. Matt dragged it out onto the pavement, blocking the road, and then returned to the thicket to wait. Waylon breaked his delivery truck to a halt, the vehicle sliding a bit on the slippery roadway. A tree had blown down onto the highway. Hell's bells, what did a man pay taxes for in this county? Disgusted, he stomped through the driving rain over to the tree, sunk in his hook, and drug it over to the ditch. Say what you'd like--and he had said plenty--that hook came in mighty useful every now and then. One more delivery to make and he'd be back in Trinity before supper. Might even stop in at Bob's Bar and have a drink before getting back home to the old ball and chain. Satisfied with himself, Waylon didn't notice that he had taken on an extra passenger. The wind rattled a sign along the highway. Golgotha 10 miles. Waylon's delivery truck made a turn and bumped up a narrow driveway. For a moment after the truck came to a stop, Matt was afraid that the driver would start unloading immediately. However, the crunching tread of feet headed away from the truck toward the house. Matt heard the knock on the door and then the sound of voices. Driver was talking to the owner of the house. Good a time as any. Matt slipped out from under the tarp and scuttled for the cover of a storage shed. The door was unlocked. Perfect. He secreted himself behind some sacks of roots in the back and settled in. Just a little rest and then he'd move on. The slam of the shed door snapped Matt out of his drowse. He had been out again. What time was it? Between the sacks, he caught a flutter of gingham. An old woman was putting several jars onto the shelves. He didn't think he'd made any sound, but she was suddenly focused on his corner of the room. Deliberately, she crossed the room and yanked aside the concealing sacks. "Why, Dr. Crower, how nice to see you again," the old woman cooed. "Don't you remember me, honey? I came to see you when you were in the hospital." Matt took a closer look at the old woman's face. "You're Mrs. . Buck, aren't you?" "That's right." "Don't worry. I won't hurt you." Lucila laughed, genuinely amused. "I didn't think you would, dear. Come on up to the house and have a cup of tea." Matt sat in Lucila's cozy little kitchen, bewildered by the sudden change of events. Was the old woman off her rocker or just out of touch? Was it possible she didn't know of his escape? She wasn't humoring him. In the year he had spent at Juniper House he was all too familiar with being humored. "Pie, honey?" Peaches. The smell was so intoxicating and spicy that it was almost nauseating. "No thanks. Tea is fine." "You should eat something, dear. You're as thin as a rail. How about some toast with my homemade apple butter?" "That would be fine." "Shucks, I'm out. I'll just get another jar out of the basement." "I don't want to be any trouble . . ." "Don't fret, honey. I'll just be a minute." Lucila disappeared down the basement steps. Matt began to relax. This was nice. A civilized cup of herbal tea in a warm country kitchen--he had almost forgotten what that was like, what anything was like outside the hospital walls. The phone in the kitchen gave a little trill. Someone in the house was making a call. Who would Lucila be calling? Matt quietly picked up the receiver. "Fulton County Sheriff's Office," said Ben's voice. "How may I help you?" Matt put the receiver down gently and headed out the back door. Ben picked up half a doughnut and put it back down untouched. His stomach was knotted up. Matt, that poor, dumb, decent fool, was being hunted down and there was nothing he could do to stop it. God help that boy if Lucas caught up with him. Shot while trying to escape. Wasn't that what Matt had said when he'd taken the doctor up to Juniper House? If only Matt had run when he gave him the chance. If only. "Afternoon, deputy. I brought over some sandwiches for you and the rest of the staff." Loris's voice interrupted Ben's dark musings. "Thank you, Miss Holt, Caleb. Afraid I don't feel much like eatin' right now, but I'm sure the other personnel will appreciate your generosity." "Miss Holt's real worried about Dr. Matt and so am I," Caleb piped up. "Don't have to worry, son. Search party hasn't located Dr. Crower yet." "It's only a matter of time, ain't it?" Caleb said. Sometimes that boy was too damn perceptive. "That's right, Caleb." The phone jangled and Ben picked it up. "Fulton County Police Department. How may I help you? Afternoon, Mrs. Buck. Lucas is out in the field right now and he's kinda busy. You found his doctor for him? Yes, I expect he'll want to hear from you, too. Hang on just a moment and I'll patch you through." Ben punched the hold button. "Marjorie, raise Sheriff Buck and put through this call on line three." "Someone's found Doctor Crower, haven't they?" Loris asked sotto voce as the dispatcher went about her work. "Sheriff's grandmother. Lives just outside of Golgotha. Search party's up by Ascension. Sheriff can be there quicker than we can." "Even at top speed?" "Yup." "How about if we knew where Dr. Matt was makin' for?" Caleb asked. "That would help a bit," Ben allowed. "Come on, the car's out back." "He's gone? Ah, hell!" "Lucas, watch your language. Boy must have figured out I was callin' you. But don't worry, he won't get far. I brewed him some of my special tea. Had plenty of these in it." She dropped a dried handful of leaves into Lucas's palm. "Mullein leaves." Lucas smiled with satisfaction. "Induces drowsiness. Doc Crower had a cup and a half. More than enough." "Mama Lucy, you're a genius." "I know, dear. Figure he's makin' for the river?" "No place else to go. Johnson River's gonna be runnin' high though. Old Harvard's likely to be in for a surprise." Matt willed his rubbery legs to keep moving. If he could only reach the river. He could hear the water. It couldn't be far away. A rest. He just needed a little rest. No, had to keep going. Just one little rest. Just a little something to tide him over. Gail looked back him through a waving row of tobacco plants. "I thought you were someone I could trust." The vision vanished replaced by the rustling leaves. Matt lurched onward, clambering over the barbed wire fence. He was so tired, so very tired. Matt leaned against a sapling for support. Slowly his legs buckled and he slid down the trunk. Just a little rest. "Need some help?" Matt opened his eyes to see Billy Peele standing in front of him, dressed in surgerical greens. "Billy, what are you doing here?" Matt slurred. "Doin' your job. Least you could do is lend me a hand." Matt's clumsy attempt to take Billy's proffered hand resulted in him keeling over onto all fours. Crawling was a good way to travel. He crawled across the dirt road and into the brush on the other side. The rushing water was very loud now. Suddenly the brush fell away and there was the Johnson River right in front of him. The river was high, brown, and ugly. A boat. He needed a boat, but there were no boats in sight. A bridge then. He could take a chance, cross over via the bridge. Several hundred yards downstream loomed the steel girded structure. It was topped by the tell-tale blinking lights of a police car. Matt slumped down in defeat. This was it then. He wasn't going to make it. "You see anything?" Ben asked as they peered into the muddy water off the Fulton Bridge. "No," Loris answered miserably. "The water's much higher than I thought it would be." "Sudden downpour will do that. I hope he didn't try to swim." Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the sheriff's blue Crown Victoria. "I thought I told you to hold down the office," Buck said, giving Ben a baleful look. "Ah . . ." "I told him to drive down here," Caleb interjected. Lucas spared a baleful look for his son. "There was a time you only took orders from me, Ben." On the other side of the river, several police cars drew up and uniformed deputies emptied out. "Who contacted the Sulphur Springs Police Department?" Lucas demanded. "I did, Sheriff." Kane unfolded himself from Selena's yellow Corvette. "Good cooperation between counties is essential in the capture of wanted fugitives, wouldn't you say?" Buck glared at him wordlessly. Kane's returned his glare with a smile that didn't match his eyes. "Shall we meander over and have a word with Sheriff McCormick? I believe he's waiting for us." Kane gestured toward the middle of the bridge where the unsmiling black man stood in his tan uniform. Buck accepted with frosty grace. "Daddy, Daddy, can I keep him?" It was Claire, Claire with a big, white mutt. "What did your mother say?" Matt muttered, half dozing. "She said to ask you. Please, Daddy." The mutt leaped up and licked his face noisily. "Alright, alright. Just remember you have to take care of him." "Thank you, Daddy. C'mon, let's go swimming." "Daddy has to work, honey." "No, you don't. It's your day off, remember? And you promised to go swimming with me." A half-memory of a trip to the beach came back to Matt. Him with zinc oxide on his nose, Claire splashing on the surf. "Okay, okay." Matt shambled down the beach to the water. God, his head hurt. He needed a drink. "C'mon, Boxer!" Claire shouted. The white mutt raced after her, barking at her heels. "Claire, don't go out too far," Matt shouted at the back of his daughter's head. The Atlantic seemed warm for this time of year. The dog churned water ahead of him. "Don't worry, Daddy." They kept going farther and farther out. Matt could sense the current becoming stronger. Where was Claire? "Claire, Claire!" he called. "Just a little farther, Daddy." Matt caught ahold of Boxer's collar. It was easier to swim now with the dog pulling him along. Ahead, he could see Claire's fair head bobbing in the water. He had almost caught up with his daughter when she turned to him. "No matter what happens I'll always be your itty bitty pretty one." Abruptly, strong hands hauled him from the water and he looked up into the face of a strange man in a deputy's uniform. "So when are you plannin' on giving me back my prisoner, Abe?" Lucas inquired with dangerous geniality. "That depends, Lucas. Do you have a court order for Dr. Crower's extradition?" Abe McCormick's geniality was equally cool. "Do I need one?" "Fulton County may be your personal fiefdom, Lucas, but Sulphur Springs is my territory. So unless you got a court order you ain't gettin' the time of day from me." "Escaped mental patient, Matt Crower, was recaptured today as he crossed the county line between Golgotha and Sulphur Springs. Sheriff Buck, were you concerned for your personal safety while Dr. Crower was on the loose? He did previously threaten your life," Danielle asked, proferring the mike. "No, Danielle, I wasn't. It's always been my belief that Mr. Crower was more dangerous to himself than he was to anyone else. As for his aborted attempt to shoot me, I think that we have to consider that a cry for help." "What will happen to Dr. Crower now?" "He is going to be held for psychiatric reevaluation at the Sulphur Springs Mental Health Clinic. After that, there will be a competency hearing to assess his fitness to rejoin society." "Is any action currently being contemplated against the Juniper House Sanitarium?" "Doctor Evelyn Guthridge, the director, has been suspended pending a full investigation into the conditions at Juniper House." "Caleb, time for bed!" Caleb snapped off the T.V. and allowed Loris to herd him upstairs. "Miss Holt, we got plenty of table scraps?" "I expect we do. What do you want to know for?" "I want to feed the birds tomorrow." FINIS Disclaimer: Any Story/episode that is a part of Virtual AG - Season Two is based upon the television Show, "American Gothic", which is the property of Shaun Cassidy, Renaissance Productions, and CBS... any characters/storyline added to support this concept is the property of the author acknowledged as such...Please, Don't Sue Us!**