Five Days in Summer

good boy he had probably been, learning all his traffic rules by rote, before the monster entered his mind and transported him elsewhere. Geary and Amy didn’t mention it; they parked the car in silence and walked onto the lawn. Geary could see that Amy was avoiding eye contact with the patients, like the one sitting cross-legged on the grass, rocking like an anchorless boat, vacant eyes suspended on an approaching storm or maybe a departing pirate. Geary wondered if his partner had learned that trick of avoidance in cop school: don’t look them in the eyes or they might get spooked and attack. It was the opposite in his clinical psych studies: if you didn’t make eye contact, you would lose them.
    The inside of the building was all cold, hard surfaces: stone and concrete, metal and glass. Some doors were manacled, others not. The only sign was the single word VISITORS, with an arrow pointing to the left. They followed it through a swinging door into a long hallway.
    “What now?” Amy didn’t look too thrilled to be there.
    “Follow the yellow brick road, I guess.”
    Gritty sunlight pooled on the worn stone floor. They passed door after unmarked door, until finally they saw it again: VISITORS.
    “Makes you feel really welcome, doesn’t it?” Amy said as she pushed open the door.
    The room was empty except for a gray metal desk on which sat a computer. There it was again, VISITORS, blinking in the middle of the screen. There was no mouse or keyboard. They approached the computer, glanced at each other, and simultaneously reached outtheir fingers to touch the word. A screen appeared with a touch keyboard, and instructions to spell the name of the person they wished to see. Amy took the honors, touching W-I-N-F-R-E-Y, J-A-N-I-C-E. ENTER. Another screen flashed on, reading Janice Winfrey, 5th floor, See Nurses Desk.
    “Okay then!” Geary clapped his hands, once, and an echo coiled into the unnatural quiet.
    “Shh!” Amy hissed. She looked like Alice on her way through the looking-glass, wondering if it was just a dream or she had accidentally joined the ranks of the hospital’s lawn people.
    Geary put his arm through hers. “Come, dear, we’ll take you right to admitting. Don’t be afraid. The rabbit is real, but he’s friendly.”
    Amy jerked her arm out of his and tried to scowl, but a grin arched the corners of her mouth instead.
    They found the elevator and traveled up to the fifth floor. When the doors scrolled open, they were met with an odd tableau of faces framed in a window in the top half of a door. About ten people were pressed together, apparently waiting to be let into the tiny foyer separating the elevator from the ward. They were obviously patients, so heavily medicated a few didn’t respond to the sight of visitors coming out of the elevator. Others did, and Geary saw curiosity and apprehension spark in some faces. One of the patients looked more present than the rest, with healthy skin tone and lucid eyes, and for a split second Geary had the feeling he’d seen that face before on someone, anyone, everyone, a face waiting for an elevator at work at the end of another day, except that he clutched a Bible so hard his knuckles were white.
    A tall nurse in an ordinary white uniform walked briskly to the door with a set of keys in her hand. She said something that evoked eager nodding, thenturned and unlocked the door. Geary and Amy pressed themselves against the wall to make room as the patients flooded into the foyer.
    “Can I help you?” the nurse asked so brightly it seemed out of context.
    “We’re visitors,” Geary said.
    The smile didn’t flinch. “And who are you visiting?”
    “Janice Winfrey.”
    The smile dropped and her eyebrows lifted. “Oh? She hasn’t had a visitor in years. And you are?”
    The patients had packed themselves into the elevator. The nurse’s foot was wedged against the door, keeping it open.
    “Friends,” Amy said.
    “Oh?” She obviously didn’t believe them. “Well, why not? Maybe you can get through to poor Janice. Down the hall to the right. Tell Nancy at the desk you saw me.” Her hard red fingernail tapped the name tag below her left shoulder: MARGARET NELSON. “I’ll be back in twenty minutes. We’re going out on a grounds pass.” She smiled at her crew in the elevator, and they nodded and twitched in anticipation of their excursion.
    Nancy at the desk barely looked up at them. When she heard that Margaret Nelson had okayed their