Join My Cult - Original Falcon Press

ceiling and Jesus screamed. Something opened in it, and finally she knew
what was breathing.
The smell of rot that had been background until now hit her squarely
in the face as the Leviathan growled. Tentacles thrashed and crawled
across one another and as Jesus turned around looking for escape, she
realized she had been flanked. Pseudopods hung from the ceiling,
stretched across the walls, and writhed beneath the ooze. Something
coiled around her ankle, drawing tight, then pulled her into the air. Then
darkness, constriction.
Agent 506 sipped casually on a latté as he punched in some numbers
on a pay phone somewhere in King of Prussia.
“Pennhurst State Hospital, how may I direct your call?”
“I was wondering if you could help me. I’m an intern over at Psychiatric
Annals… Are you familiar with the publication?”
“I’m sorry, I can’t say I am.”
“It’s pretty dry, doctor’s-only stuff. Anyway, one of your doctors has
sent us an incredible article on the treatment of catatonics—groundbreaking
material—and I need to get his permission to print it.”
“I can connect you to their office. Who do you need to speak to?”
“That’s the problem. This guy could totally get famous with work of
this caliber, and he didn’t sign it!”
“Really?”
“Yeah, can you believe it? I hear Einstein couldn’t make toast, go
figure. Who treats the catatonics at your facility?”
“Doctors Fein and Spitzer, mainly. They handle all our tough ones.”
“Sounds like they’re the guys.”
“I can connect you to Doctor Fein’s office.”
“Wait! One more thing.”
“What can I do for you?”
“I’m sorry to drop all this on your lap, but my boss is already fuming
and I don’t want him to take it out on me, you know what I mean?”
“Yeah, I hear you.”
“This doctor, he mentioned one of your patients by name.”
“Uh-oh.”
“Yeah, serious HIPPA problems. Who’s your compliance officer? I
don’t want to get Dr. Fein in hot water, I just need to check this so I
don’t get fired.”
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