Pickman’s Student: part 1

Extracts from the Personal Diary of Dr Elisa Jamieson MD

A month has passed since the raid on Penhew Place and I have heard nothing from MI13. So I put it to the back of my mind and throw myself wholeheartedly into my work. Surely if I continue the way I am going even that aging dinosaur, Fredrick Jones, will be forced to move me to the surgical teams, if only to stop someone else headhunting me. In the meantime I still look for jobs and touch up my résumé.

My private life is another matter. I still do not have a new roommate and I am starting to feel a little isolated. My loneliness appears to be affecting my thought processes. Agreed, I still have my cooking courses and my fitness regime, but every human being needs companionship. I even went as far as to give Alex Douglas my private blackberry number, offering my services to help out with his daughter if he needed it. Alex did not phone back, so much for my belief that he had a good time with me at Suzanne’s wedding. Obviously I need to sort this out before it affects the team and if I can’t, well…I may need to post my resignation in the interests of the team as Alex serves a much more useful service. (Wow! Where did that come from? I must really like him if I am willing to do that – sort yourself out girl.)

Tuesday 26^th August 2008

It is Tuesday 26^th August and for once it is a quiet day in Accident and Emergency, mostly kids with skinned knees and the occasional industrial injury. I am catching up my paperwork, as this is my last shift before I am back on the graveyard shift again. It is relatively quiet so I am working away on the computer while Janet and Helen discus some reality programme they watched last night.

At eleven o’clock we get a report from Richard Green, one of the paramedics, that he is bringing in a drowning victim. I disturb Janet and Helen from their chatter and we prepare for the patient. At eleven ten Richard and Tom bring in the patient and we begin the process of cleaning him up. Richard reports his heartbeat is weak and thready and that they were required to use the paddles on him before they loaded him into the ambulance. It is clear to me from the triage that he will require extensive treatment so while I am working I ask Janet to contact the Intensive care department so they can prepare a bed for him. I notice, however, that the patient has a strange smell about him, almost as if he had been at the seaside. With this in mind I take samples of the water we remove from his lungs. I also take blood samples for testing. In all it takes Helen and I half-an-hour to get him fit for transfer. Oddly, as we are transferring him, I notice that he has acquired marks on his arms and legs, which, I am pretty sure, were not there when the paramedics brought him in and I am sure that neither Helen nor me could have caused them. In appearance they looked like minor contusions.

After we had transferred Mr Blake to intensive care Helen informs me that she actually recognised the patient. It appears that he is some kind of celebrity, a painter named Nelson Blake. According to Helen this fellow had appeared in several of her gossip magazines and had been dating a model and society girl by the name of Penny Tilstrom. He had also supposedly appeared on a television show named ‘Who do you think you are?’ It was only when we began to settle down that I questioned where was the girlfriend as Richard had reported that Mr Blake had been discovered in his present condition on the sofa of his apartment by his cleaner.

To get little more information I chose to Google Mr Blake, to discover that he was an only child and his mother had died of a drug overdose some ten years previously. There appeared no record of the father. Mr Blake is a modern artist of some renown, hence his celebrity. It seems he had been catapulted to prominence by a major exhibition of his work in March 2006 at the Stimson gallery, Greenwich, which was run by his close friend Adrian Stimson. It also appeared that he was presently not in a relationship, having broken up with his fiancé Miss Tillstrom in the last month. I noted that his career had been on a downward spiral after his split with Miss Tillstrom so maybe this was just a depressed artist attempting suicide. Anyway it was not important and as I had other patients to deal with it slipped my mind.

I didn’t think about Mr Blake again until I went down to the canteen to get lunch and spotted Richard and Tom also having their lunches. I asked if I could join them and they agreed. While we were chatting Mr Blake’s case came up and in the process I asked them whether they knew how long he had been lying where they found him, plus how long he had been without breathing? Unfortunately they were unsure themselves so I could not acquire a definitive answer.

Shortly after lunch Miss Tilstrom made her appearance, claiming to be Mr Blake’s fiancé. She was about my height with slightly darker hair, attractive but with a slightly oversized nose. Miss Tilstrom instantly started to order people around claiming that she intended to hold a bedside vigil until her beloved Nelson was better. She then stated that Mr Blake did not have insurance and that she would absorb all the expenses for private treatment. I informed Miss Tilstrom of Mr Blake’s condition. That the hospital and police reports claim there was no foul play and the injuries self inflicted. However, she did not appear to believe that Mr Blake would attempt this, as that is not sort the person he is. Anyway, as I had patients at that time I asked her to wait until administrator arrived to sort it all out.

Once Miss Tilstrom had left I received the report on Mr Blake’s samples, which displayed heavy alcohol use and there were also traces of an unspecified alkaloid in his blood sample, maybe some new recreational drug. However, all this seemed fairly standard as he was an artist; that was until I got to the water analysis, as curiously this displayed a salt content of thirty three parts to a thousand, akin to sea water, yet where could he get sea water in Reading? We are forty miles from the nearest sea!

The rest of the shift was fairly quiet until just before I was due to clock off, when a tall older gentleman arrived, asking the nurses about Mr Blake. As I was at the desk I fielded the question, inquiring initially what relation he is to the casualty. The gentleman informed me that he is Adrian Stimson and gave me his card. With this information I asked Mr Stimson to step into a private room where I informed him that Mr Blake had been brought in that morning suffering from the effect of possible drowning, stating that I had been the doctor on hand and had treated him before transferring to intensive care. I also informed him that Miss Tilstrom had agreed to take on all his expenses including a private room and that she was present within the hospital undertaking a bedside vigil.

As my shift was over for the day and Doctor Farooq was now on shift I agreed to take Mr Stimson to Mr Blake’s room personally. However, when I saw Mr Blake I was quite shocked and was instantly drawn by his appearance, as he appeared to have deteriorated quite visibly since that morning. The dark marks on his arms had increased and were now visible on his body. In my opinion he appeared to be suffering from something that was affecting his entire system. The machines showed a steady heartbeat but I noted that the brainwave monitor showed very little brain activity.

I was about to ask the nurse if any more samples had been taken as his injuries appear to show that he is suffering from a systematic poison akin to snake venom. However before I was able to say anything Doctor Jones stormed in asking who the man in the room was and what I was doing? I attempted to explain my own suspicions regarding the patient but he did not appear to be interested in my opinion, claiming that it has nothing to do with me, that Mr Blake is his patient and that I should be on my way home as my shift was over. He was unwilling to listen to my opinion (as per usual) and he ordered me to leave his patient alone and go home.

Thoroughly chastised, I got in my car and headed home, feeling as I did a slightly unpleasant tickle at the back of my neck, very akin to a strong feeling that I was being followed. I checked my mirrors and took a more roundabout route home. I did not notice any particular car continually appearing but still the feeling did not leave me. Maybe Doctor Jones’ attitude was starting to affect me. Once home I checked my mail and read a little before dinner. After dinner I chose to try and relax and listen to little Bach before retiring to bed at nine o’clock.

Oddly that night I had a rather strange dream and unlike most dreams that fade to nothing upon waking this one seemed to stick in my mind; I can recall it almost as if it was reality. It began with me walking in pitch-blackness down what was seemingly a quiet road. I could hear my own footsteps as I walked but there was a strange pitch to my steps, as they appeared to echo, almost akin to me walking in step with someone else. There were no stars or moon and I could barely see my hand in front of my face but there was a pale glow to what I sensed was the East. Feeling this was a sign, I then headed in that direction and in doing so I realised the ground changed from road to gravel. The ‘echo’, however, did not change timbre until six steps after my own. I wondered if I should turn and attempt to ascertain if I was being followed but in the end decided against it. Shortly afterwards the ground changed again, this time to sand. Again I noted it took six steps before the ‘echo’ changed. The light I was moving towards also was becoming brighter so, taking a possible risk, I turned in hope of seeing who or maybe even what was dogging my steps, only to reveal nothing except a vast desert landscape with what appeared to be large stone monoliths but, on closer inspection, were more like huge ancient tree stumps which had petrified. There was no sign of life at all in this landscape. There was not even a complete tree. As to the footsteps, maybe it was just my mind playing tricks on me?

Wednesday 27^th August 2008

I awoke slightly concerned by this dream and wondered what it could mean? I had breakfast and then took my usual run through the park in hope that the fresh air would air out the cobwebs. As I was running, however, that feeling of being followed returned so I began to actively check my surroundings. I noticed what appeared to be the same grey or silver Ford circling the park. However this could all have been totally innocent, just my natural paranoia playing games with me. Anyway these thoughts were disturbed by a vibration in the small of my back indicating a phone call. Oddly my caller identification states it is Adam and I have to question why he is ringing me.

After the standard greetings he asked me a very curious question, he inquired whether I had experienced a dangerous dream? I said that I had not but also remarked that I did have a strange dream involving a rather unusual landscape of a wide expanse of desert dotted with ancient petrified tree stumps each as large as a house. Adam seemed unnaturally concerned by this and stated that we may have a problem. He then asked me to come and see him at the Wilmarth. As it was my day off anyway and I had nothing planned I agreed to come along but as I had been running I would need to shower and change before I set off. Adam asked me to hurry as he stated that he too had experienced a similar dream and that several of the inmates had become agitated. Feeling concerned he had contacted ‘Solomon’ who he claimed appeared convinced that something was afoot.

When I arrived at the Wilmarth I was somewhat surprised to discover that Alex and Barbara were already present and Adam claimed he had also contacted Belinda (who was on a dig in Northumberland) and St John (who was still in Avebury).

From what I could gather it appeared that we had all been experiencing strange dreams and initially that was the reason that he had brought us together. Adam was concerned that two of the patients within the Wilmarth had also woken screaming. While I am sure that this is quite normal in what is essentially an asylum, I find that what they had been screaming about was certainly not; names of Mythos deities and otherworldly places: R’Lyeh, Ghadamon (who may or may not be the harbinger of Cthulhu) and even Cthulhu himself. However, mostly they screamed about R’lyeh rising!

I am asked to recall my dream, of which I surprisingly remember much. I tell all that I saw and when I am finished Adam tells us of his dream, which involved him walking on a mysterious shoreline. As he walked he sensed some form of possible Mythos entity dwelling beneath the surface of the strange sea. He also recalled mountains and ancient ruins on the shore, which he claimed appeared to be of Roman origin.

After hearing this, Alex said that he had visited the Dreamlands where rumours of Cthulhu’s Harbinger have been recorded in the City of Ulthar. Barbara then reported her dream, which involved being chased through a cemetery (probably Highgate) by unknown figures who she could not see but she did recall the presence of a large pinkish-red gravestone bearing the face of Karl Marx, suggesting the likely locale.

Adam then told us that Belinda said she had also had a strange dream but unlike many of us she could recall little of the content. However she claimed that she did sense many eyes in the darkness observing her actions. No one says what St John experienced; I will need to ask what he saw when I next see him.

Once we had correlated everything Adam phoned Lionel, who appeared to recall that something akin to this occurred nearly twenty years ago, while he was head of MI13, and that something is occurring at a pace. Lionel said that in the earlier incident it affected artists first (creative bent I suppose) and it also had something to do with Toby Higginbotham’s present condition. Lionel appears to feel guilt when he mentions Toby. The mention of artists struck a chord with me as I recalled Mr Blake’s condition. I informed the team of the occurrences at the Royal Berkshire the previous morning. Lionel thought about what I said and then said that there may be some possibility that maybe R’Lyeh is rising from the depths - which is certainly not a good thing by any stretch of the imagination.

As everything starts to connect we decide that Alex and Adam should go to see Mr Stimson, who is a good friend of Mr Blake’s, at his gallery in Greenwich, while I would go to Avebury and pick up St John. What would Jules make of St John being picked up by a tall blonde in a sports car? Mind you, she does know me and we tend to get well with each other so hopefully it won’t be an issue.

Mr Stimson is also somewhat of a minor celebrity, appearing as an expert on a number of art programmes aired on Channel 4 and BBC2. He owns the gallery in Greenwich which displayed Mr Blake’s exhibition, a very impressive and well established gallery having been founded by Mr Samuel Stimson in 1888. Adrian, being the great-grandson of Samuel, keeps it within the bloodline.

Just as I arrived to pick up St John I received a call from Alex asking that instead of us all meeting Mr Stimson, St John and I should travel to the Royal Berkshire to check on Mr Blake’s condition.

St John then informed me that he appeared to recall having met Mr Blake previously. On the way back to Reading I filled him in what we had discovered so far, including all the dream data I could recall. While St John also reported a very odd dream where he recalled awakening alongside Jules in a large four-poster bed. The curtains around the bed were closed but he felt the urge to see what was outside. In doing so he reached across Jules, claiming that he was protecting her (while I suspect another motive was involved - maybe St John was lapsing again), as he opened the curtains and looked out he said that there was nothing but the bed and pitch darkness. But he did notice a foetid smell, akin to rotting meat. Not really wishing to have anything to do with the meaty darkness he carefully closed the curtains and returned to bed. However the smell did not go away and if anything became more intensive. St John followed the smell to its source to find it appeared to be emanating from Jules and he noticed that her body was moving in a way that seemed to him unnatural. It was at this stage that St John willed himself awake.

St John said that Jules also had a dream involving her walking through a graveyard, which had a large black tomb at its centre. St John then conveyed Jules’ thoughts that the door to the tomb was open and that whatever was inside was calling to her to either let it out or come in and be with it. As to what she did about this St John was not forthcoming, maybe he will tell all when the team is all together.

St John and I went straight to the Royal Berkshire and while I checked with reception to ascertain if Mr Blake was still in the land of the living, I discovered he was. St John in the meantime calmly waited to one side. Surprisingly I found that someone had left me a message so I asked exactly what it was only to find it was a business card from the Stimson Gallery. The name on the card was Adrian Stimson and he had written a number on the rear of the card together with a request to call him. This could be to thank me or maybe he was just hitting on me. Whatever the reason this could turn out to be quiet useful.

After I told St John that Mr Blake was still with us he felt that we should go and see him. We made our way through the hospital easily as I knew were we were going. Fortunately, I noted Dr Jones was nowhere around as that would have created a problem. As we enter Mr Blake’s room, however, I noted that his condition had certainly taken a turn for the worse. The epidermis on his arms had split and was weeping a clear fluid plus the skin is turning a dark blue colour. Miss Tilstrom was still maintaining her bedside vigil in the room but the nurse was different. I noticed that Miss Tilstrom appeared to be exhibiting signs of stress and she still insisted that Mr Blake was not the kind of man to attempt suicide. Mind you, she does appear to be deluded that he is getting better - either that or she is the reason for his present condition, akin to Ms Carleton.

I quickly scanned over Mr Blake’s medical records and noticed that maybe Dr Jones did listen to my advice as he ordered more tests. The mystery alkaloid has been partially identified as a possible derivative of peyote. The report also claimed that there is more in the second sample than in the first, which doesn’t make sense unless Mr Blake’s body is actually creating it, which is a medical impossibility. This was clearly a problem so I left the room to find a place were I could use my phone. I tried to contact Alex, but Adam answered stating that they were in a meeting with Mr Stimson. I informed Adam that Mr Stimson had left me his number and informed him of Mr Blake’s present condition. Adam asked me if I had studied Mr Blake with the mask and I informed him that I had not (in fact the mask was presently in a safe back at my apartment in Reading). In all I am not terribly au fait with using a mask in an intensive care ward as there would likely be number of spirits and some of them may not be all that friendly.

As they were talking to Mr Stimson, I asked Adam to keep the phone on so I could overhear what was being said. From the snippets I heard I was able to ascertain that the Stimson gallery had displayed an exhibition of Mr Blake’s work in March 2006 where all the paintings on display had been sold. The paintings involved were all part of Mr Blake’s so called ‘Ghadamon Cycle’. Mr Stimson had claimed that after the exhibition was over Mr Blake had appeared irrational and agitated about the gallery selling his paintings and he began demanding that they be returned to him. It should be noted that there were supposedly five paintings in the ‘Ghadamon Cycle’ but one was unfinished and therefore would still have been in his studio.

Mr Stimson had purchased one of the paintings himself and offered to return it straight away to Mr Blake but Blake said it would be no use without the others and that all had to be reacquired.

Judging from the description of the painting Mr Stimson had bought, it bore a strong resemblance to the images I had seen in my dreams. This painting is called ‘Elder Yoggoth’ and claims to show where the Mi-Go dwell (I have heard of the Mi-Go previously and I recall they have something to do with Pluto (the planet not the dog). Furthermore two of the other paintings also bore resemblances to the dreams of the others: one of a four-poster bed in a dark room while another was of Highgate cemetery.

Well at least we now have some clues to follow and we have more of a chance to ascertain exactly who or what Ghadamon actually is.