The Devil in Silver

She had a manila accordion folder, just like Sue’s. Written in red marker the same two words: “No Name.” She stood and undid the cord that held the manila folder closed. She turned it upside down. Articles and magazine clippings fell across the tabletop. A downpour. Hundreds of clippings. They covered the table. They spilled off the side and fluttered to the floor. The sound was like the crackle of footsteps in fallen leaves.

As soon as she was done, Still Waters, at the next table, stood up. She had her own manila accordion folder. On the side, two words written with red crayon. “No Name.”

Still Waters came to the redhead’s table. She turned her folder over and let the clippings fall. Across the tabletop and onto the floor.

Last came Sue. Who didn’t care if Pepper understood but at that moment, she was standing with her friends. No matter how wild or theatrical this seemed, she was with them. Sue turned her manila folder upside down. The clippings fell on the table, cascaded to the floor. Hundreds of them, just like the others. When it was finished, Pepper couldn’t even see his feet.

All four of them were up to their ankles.

But in what?

“What you see here is the work that we’ve been doing here at Northwest for a total of eleven years.”

To Pepper’s great surprise, Still Waters was talking. She didn’t look at him, didn’t look up at all, but her voice resounded loudly. With confidence.

Pepper looked at the clippings. Some were yellow and brittle with age. Others showed fresh ink. Some pieces were long, accompanied by photos, but only a few. They were all, basically, death notices.

“These are just the fatalities we know about,” Still Waters said. She nudged her foot through the pile. “Clipped out of newspapers we could get our hands on.”

“Is Coffee’s article in there?” Pepper asked. “Dr. Anand showed it to me. Did you see it?”

“It’s there,” Redhead Kingpin said.

Pepper stepped backward gingerly, out of the pile of papers, as if he’d been standing on a corpse.

“Coffee’s got written,” Still Waters said. “But people like this, people like us, usually don’t even rate a paragraph. No money, sometimes no family, maybe not even a marked grave. No names.”

“You keep these to remember them,” Pepper said.

“You’ve got it,” the redhead said. She touched the top of Still Waters’ head. “Marjolein here, she’s got the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever known. She’s the one who started clipping. It hurt her to think of people just reading the paper, folding up these names, and throwing them away.”

“So these folders are like a kind of war memorial,” Pepper said.

Still Waters didn’t look up but she nodded. “I like that.”

Behind them Heatmiser said, “You guys are kind of making a mess, man.”

Sue and Pepper and Still Waters and the Redhead Kingpin turned to look at Heatmiser. Would the women eviscerate him?

Heatmiser scratched his head absently. “Staff’ll probably take all that from you if they see it like that.”

A fine point. The man had saved himself a disemboweling. The women scooped articles back into their manila folders by the handful. They didn’t bother to figure out which was whose. Pepper even got on one knee and passed clippings to Sue in great bunches, handfuls of epitaphs.

When they were almost done a terrific scream came down the hall. Terrific meaning intense. Terrific meaning awesome and astounding. Terrific meaning causing great fear.

A howl, coming from Northwest 3. It sounded so bad that Rachel and Marjolein dropped their folders on the table and booked it toward the ruckus. Pepper and Sue followed. Heatmiser didn’t run after them. For one perfect moment he was alone in the lounge.

He climbed onto his chair. After a moment’s hesitation he climbed onto the empty table. Then he sang, just loud enough for his fragile falsetto to fill the room. “You disappoint me, you people raking in on the world.” His voice was beautiful and tender. He took a breath, sang louder. “The devil’s script sells you the heart of a blackbird.” Standing on the table he threw his arms out and took a bow. With his eyes closed he really could hear thunderous applause. He smiled so brightly that he shined.

The others tracked the screams, which continued, and grew louder. The staff leapt from their station. Nurse Washburn fumbled, trying to unlock one of the drawers. She cursed herself for her clumsiness, which only slowed her down more. The two orderlies on duty moved much faster. One bounded over the top of the desk.

The doors on Northwest 2 and 3 opened with the same quickness. Patients streamed out, most groggy, some smiling, pleased by the disturbance; it was something new.

It was Loochie Gardner.

Getting her ass kicked.

By an old woman.

When Pepper and Sue finally reached Northwest 3, they had trouble seeing clearly. There were too many spectators in the way. Pepper had to go on his toes to see over everyone else. Sue was out of luck.

“What is it?” Sue shouted. “Who is it?!”

“It’s Dorry,” Pepper said. “She’s scalping Loochie.”