Where in the world is Taffy Slummings?

[Arroyos]

WHERE IN THE WORLD IS TAFFY SLUMMINGS?

When Mayberry and the orderly known only as Sean opened the door to exit the men’s room in the Camarillo State Hospital, they expected to see Taffy Slummings waiting for them in the hallway, disguised as a janitor. An old, grizzled janitor to be sure, but the hospital had several antiquarian janitors on the payroll, so no one would notice. Hell, no one ever looked the janitorial staff in the eyes, so Slummings would be practically invisible, particularly in the dim lighting the hospital shifted to after dark. At least that was the plan, Sean’s plan.

But when they stepped into the hallway, there was no Slummings. No janitor of any sort. The hall was as empty as a baseball field in an Iowa winter.

Sean looked up the hallway, then down the hallway, then up again before turning to Mayberry and saying, “What the fuck?”

Mayberry shook his head. “He’s old, he’s senile, he’s unreliable, he might have gotten lost.”

“Between here and the courtyard fountain?”

Mayberry shrugged. “We should check. Just to be sure.”

Sean hustled down the hallway 15 or 20 feet before making a hard left turn out the doors onto a small courtyard that had a vintage fountain at its center. Mayberry shuffled along behind him as fast as an old man in slippers can go. When he too pushed through the doors into the courtyard, all he could see illuminated by the courtyard’s flood lights were the row of neat palm trees that swayed in the setting sun, a row of desert bushes along one wall, a wooden bench along another, and—of course—the fountain, mumbling water out of its central spout into a ceramic tile basin. Somedays the fountain flowed noisily, filling the courtyard with the sound of water. Otherdays it sputtered and mumbled. And more days of late it was silent, with no water flowing up the metal pipe to the flower-like spout and then spilling into the basin.

Some patients believed the state of their personal health was determined by the whimsy of the fountain. Good days for patients, the water flowed. But when the fountain went dry, beware! The staff were looking to wheel you on a gurney to the Therapy Room for a little electrical excitement.

Other patients believed it worked in reverse: when the water was flowing, watch out. Either way, no one in the hospital believed the volume of water coming out of the fountain was merely arbitrary or random. At least, no one admitted to such a hopeless belief.

When Mayberry could tear his eyes away from the mumbling fountain, he realized he not only didn’t see Slummings, but he didn’t see Sean either. He turned around 360 degrees where he stood, just to be sure, but no Sean. No nobody. Just Mayberry. He pinched himself to make sure he was really there.

“Ouch.”

“Hurt yourself?”

Mayberry turned to see Sean re-enter the courtyard from the opposite set of doors, the ones that led to the hospital entrance.

“Where’d you come from? Or rather, where’d you go?”

Sean shrugged, “Just out front. Thought he might of gotten ahead of us.”

“But no?”

“No.”

Mayberry thought about it. “You said, ‘ahead of us.’ So that’s how we’re getting out? Through the front door?”

“That was the plan.”

“How is that even—I mean, what kind of crazy plan is that? Oh sure, we’ll just waltz out the front door!”

Sean smirked, “No waltzing. Riding. On a gurney. In disguise. After dark. During a fire drill.”

“Fire drill!” Mayberry chortled. “How the hell were you— Oh. You’re gonna pull an alarm, get the firemen to come here, and we escape in the general evacuation.”

“That was the plan,” Sean repeated.

They looked at each other, then looked around the empty courtyard, then Mayberry asked, “What now?”

Sean shrugged. “Don’t know.”

“No plan B?”

Sean shook his head. “You got any idea where he might go?”

“Yuma, Frisco, Oak City, anywhere that’s outa here.”

“Right. So assuming his instinct is to get out … where? And how?”

Mayberry sat down on the courtyard bench. Sean paced around the fountain, which mumbled its disappointment.

Sean reviewed hospital security in his mind, trying to find a weakness, a gap big enough for a septuagenarian to shuffle through. But the hospital’s main building was like a rabbit trap: easy to get into, impossible to get out of. The only doors left unlocked during the day were the front door, which Sean had just examined, and the two glass doors that opened opened out onto the central quad, both of which were locked after dark. Besides, a security guard was posted throughout the night in the activity room that gave onto the grassy quad surrounded by the hospital’s east and west wings. Sean shook his head. Slummings must still be inside, but where?

Mayberry tried to imagine how he would escape the hospital at this time of night, evening really, the sky streaked with pink above him. He knew—all the patients knew—that Gate 38 at the south entrance to the hospital was the only way out of the hospital complex. It was left open at night for deliveries, with a lazy or sleepy guard napping or smoking somewhere nearby. Mayberry had once made an escape through that very gate, but that was ages ago. Years? Decades? Mayberry had no idea. Time in the hospital was as relative as Einstein ever imagined it. Patients tried simply to hang onto one day at a time. Yesterdays were indistinguishable. Tomorrow unimaginable. And after a few “Therapy Sessions,” few could remember why or when they’d been admitted to the hospital. Hell, they were lucky to remember their names.

So Mayberry figured that Slummings must be trying to get to Gate 38, which required leaving the main hospital building and sneaking across the wide open quad to get to the shadows provided by the trees along the south wall. But how would Slummings get out of the building? How would I get out? Mayberry asked himself. And the answer—the only conceivable solution—came to him immediately.

He hopped up from the courtyard bench and shouted to Sean, “Linens! He’s in the linen room.” Mayberry started to shuffle his way out of the courtyard, Sean following, asking, “Why the linen room?”

“The only way out!” Mayberry called over his shoulder, and moments later an old man stumbled into the main hallway and turned right to head down the sloping floor toward the west wing, where the Linen Room was adjacent to the Men’s Ward. He was passed in a flash by Sean sprinting by him, like Jackie Robinson circling the bases.

[Sandgnats]

Slummings!!! Where are you old friend?! I'll never forget our vacation to Mogadishu.

[Arroyos]

Slummings!!! Where are you old friend?! I'll never forget our vacation to Mogadishu.

Just catching up, RJ? Keep going, you'll find Slummings on the 3:10 to Yuma, probably somewhere between Palm Springs and Salton Sea.

[Sandgnats]

Slummings!!! Where are you old friend?! I'll never forget our vacation to Mogadishu.

Just catching up, RJ? Keep going, you'll find Slummings on the 3:10 to Yuma, probably somewhere between Palm Springs and Salton Sea.

Yup getting caught up! Thanks Bob!