by Terrence Aym

Created on: August 11, 2009

Excerpt from: "Lunatic"

"We have only four patients at the moment," Nurse Colenridge explained. "It makes it easier to treat them if they're all kept in one localized area. The east wing is primarily staff quarters and such. Ah, here's Mr. Tsunehiko Yazuki's suite." She smiled encouragingly at Grant and nodded towards a heavy wooden door. It had slots near the bottom, as did all the doors in the west wing.

Stepping forward, Eberly dismissed her, "That will be all, Nurse. Thank you."

After Colenridge left, Eberly became all business. He slid a magnetic key through a slot next to the doorjamb and the door swung gently inward. After they entered the room the door automatically hissed closed behind them.

Mr. Yazuki lounged comfortably upon a large upholstered chair in what looked like a perfect replica of an Eighteenth Century drawing room. A partially curtained doorway led to a bedroom on Grant's left. Several exotic looking medical instruments and an ornately carved, oak, four-poster bed dominated that room. A second doorway led to the lavatory, another to a kitchenette.

"Mr. Yazuki," Eberly called out loudly.

As if suddenly startled from a sound sleep, Yazuki jerked upwards in the chair. "Why, Doctor," he grinned sheepishly, swaying a bit awkwardly while pushing himself to his feet. Then he noticed Grant. "Is he another new doctor? So many in the past few weeks ..."

"Uh, yes," the director fumbled. Obviously he had not expected Yazuki to make this observation, at least not verbally. Grant chewed on that silently. He recalled Morris's mention of contemporaries that hadn't panned out-and Big Jim's insistence that young doctors were disappearing.

"Mr. Yazuki, this is Dr. Peter Grant. He's our newest associate at Huntington Manor. I'm introducing him to all of you today. I expect you'll make him feel welcome."

Yazuki's shiny obsidian eyes narrowed instantly. "Guests? Inmates, you mean." He growled, "I don't need your pseudo-diplomacy, Eberly."

Eberly ignored the affront. "So, Mr. Yazuki, how have we been getting on today?"

The short, stocky Japanese purposefully ignored the director. He focused his attention on Grant. The Asian's eyes grew darker, larger, until they seemed impossibly huge for his round, puckered face. Grant stared back at him, unable to turn away.

Suddenly, an overpowering sensation of irresistible force crashed over Grant like a tidal wave over a puny dike. In seconds his senses swirled away. The room dimmed around him until Yazuki's

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