Edna gave him her hostile Edna-scowl. “No.” She slipped her hand out of his fingers and wheeled forward, snubbing him.

Mickey went in the opposite direction, still laughing and apparently not the least bit disheartened. His flirting was never serious.

Gabriel continued down the hallway, carefully dodging both sets of spinning wheels. Though he had intended to go out for a cigarette, he instead veered toward the front lobby. For once, the area was mostly empty. Jill, the receptionist, was on the phone at her desk, and only two other residents were there.

John Morris, a grim bald fellow from North Wing, was sitting in front of the fish tank in his wheelchair. He stared at the fish, muttering something incoherent and tapping his fingers against his knees in a pattern that was somewhere between chaotic and methodical. He turned his head to glance at Gabriel, revealing frightened eyes with dark circles under them, a tight upper lip, and uneven facial features, clearly the side effects of a stroke. He quickly returned his attention to the fish and resumed his mumbling.

Once again sitting behind the chessboard was the same narrow-faced, thin man with the buggy eyes and the mysterious 7-shaped scar. He wore yet another fabulous black tuxedo, and with his glistening silver hair combed back and his Van Dyke goatee trimmed to perfection, he appeared as debonair as the previous day. He smiled at Gabriel.

“I want to go upstairs,” John Morris announced, though he didn’t turn from the fish tank. “Pleeeease… please, please, please, I want to go upstairs.”

Chessboard man’s globe-like eyes glanced over at Morris then returned to Gabriel. There was something oddly loving about the man’s expression, something that made Gabriel feel as if they’d perhaps known each other once, a long time ago. The man carefully dusted his tuxedo—not that such a lavish, spotless garment needed dusting—then checked a silver pocket watch. Apparently satisfied with the time, the angular man returned to his solo chess game.

Gabriel knew he recognized the man from somewhere. Maybe he had known him back in California. Or perhaps they’d been roommates at some point in the last five years, and he’d forgotten him.

Clearly, if he wanted to find out, he had to make the first move. But that knowledge didn’t make his next action any easier. Initiating friendly communication with people had never been one of his strong suits.

Gabriel approached the chessboard, his clunky, three-footed steps jittery with apprehension. He nearly stopped, but finally, he made it to the board. Gabriel cleared his throat. “Hello there.”

The man peered up at him. “Why hello, good sir.” He smiled, raising one corner of his mouth and revealing a deep dimple in his left cheek. “Care to join me?” His voice, though warm and friendly, was surprisingly raspy, sounding like broken shards of glass rubbing against each other. He had the barest trace of a Spanish accent.

Gabriel sat on the opposite side of the chessboard. The man was staring at him, studying him, and he was still smiling the way one smiled at a loved one, a friend, or even a favorite student. Gabriel adjusted his collar self-consciously, and the other man dusted off his coat again.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Gabriel said. “I’m Gabriel Schist. I’ve been a resident here for many years, but I came here from—”

“Oh, Gabriel. I know exactly who you are.” The man’s smile spread to both sides of his mouth, like a moving wave. “I think everyone here knows you.”

“No, I don’t think they do because—”

“Yes, well. To an extent, perhaps. I suppose that very few of us here, other than myself, realize that you’re actually the great inventor of the Schist vaccine.”

“Hmm.” Gabriel noted that the man’s response still didn’t let him know if they’d ever met before. “So you do know who I am.”

“Oh, yes! And I am quite a fan, I must say. But you’re correct, Gabriel, to posit that most of the residents here probably don’t know that. However, I can assure you that everyone in this facility certainly recognizes you. Out of this vast plethora of colorful characters here at Bright New Day, you’re one of the most colorful of all.”

“Am I?”

“Why, yes!” The man leaned back in his chair with a giddy, almost childlike satisfaction. “You’re the detective, of course! Who doesn’t know the detective with his charming old cane and fedora?”

Gabriel smiled. “I see.”

“Mr. Schist, my name is Victor. It’s a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. Shall we begin the game?”

Gabriel nodded, and Victor began resetting the chess pieces. Gabriel studied Victor’s long, bony fingers, and something occurred to him.

“What’s your last name, Victor?” Gabriel asked.

Victor gave him a knowing smile and dusted off his jacket again. “My apologies. I set up the board without even asking you something. Do you wish to play as black or white?”

Gabriel knew Victor had heard him, but the man had chosen not to answer. Gabriel was curious as to why, but he fully understood that sometimes a man’s chosen identity could get lost beneath the baggage of his life story, and sometimes, it was easier not to spill all the beans at once.

The stone chess pieces were oversized, specifically made for people with shaky hands. Victor had already placed the white pieces on his own side.

“We’ll leave it like this,” Gabriel said.

“So I have the white pieces, do I? I suppose that means I move first.” Victor confidently moved a pawn forward.

Gabriel opened with his queen’s knight. Not wanting to make Victor uncomfortable, he didn’t repeat his question or ask more.

From in front of the fish tank, John Morris continued muttering in his louder tone. His skin was covered in sweat, which was often the case, but still, the dampness of his clothes made Gabriel a bit concerned. The man reeked of sweat. Gabriel wondered if John had been given a change in medication.

Morris turned his wheelchair to face the chessboard. He looked at them with a desperate, pleading expression, his bloodshot eyeballs darting back and forth. “I don’t… ah… ah… yes, I want. I want.”

A small part of Gabriel’s mind flashed back to his conversation with the slug then quickly retreated from the idea. They’d gotten a new doctor a few weeks ago, and many of the residents—including Gabriel—had recently undergone minor or major changes in their medications. Medication changes could produce unforeseen side effects, and Morris clearly looked to be exhibiting them.

“Ah… ahhh… please help me. Please, I wanna go… upstairs.” Morris turned his wheelchair around again to face the fish tank.

Gabriel looked down the corridor. He considered alerting a nurse to Morris’s condition, but he was relieved to see that Jill was already keeping a close eye on the man. Victor continued advancing his pawns, keeping his important pieces close to his chest. Gabriel’s game was dramatically different; he took more risks. He brought the big guns out early and made their presence known.

“Ohhh,” Morris mumbled. “Oh damn… spllasshh… blah… I just want to go upstairs. Upstairs, please, upstairs…”

“Upstairs,” Gabriel muttered, shaking his head.

“Interesting, isn’t it?” Victor replied, his eyes shimmering with curiosity. “The strange things that dementia patients say, sometimes? I must say, it makes a man wonder.”

“Not really,” Gabriel scoffed. “Dementia is just the side effect of a rotting brain. That’s all there is to it. Upstairs? For God’s sake, Bright New Day doesn’t even have an upstairs.”

Victor moved yet another pawn. Gabriel captured the pawn with his rook, realizing a second later that he’d left his knight vulnerable to attack.

“Wanna… wanna… wanna go upstairs…” Morris continued.

“Oh yes, that’s correct, literally speaking,” Victor replied. “This nursing facility has only one floor, yes. However, you’re missing the point, Mr. Schist. You’re being a bit blockheaded, if you don’t mind my saying so.” Victor captured Gabriel’s knight with his pawn.

Gabriel reached out to move his queen forward to take the pawn but hesitated. “What point?”

“Intriguing questions are raised when one tracks patterns, watches people, and monitors frequent behaviors. Don’t you think? And you must realize that I’ve been around here for a long time, longer than I care to mention. I’ve seen more people come in and out of these doors than you can imagine. And once you’ve seen enough Alzheimer’s victims, you start to notice… trends.”

Gabriel, always rather dubious of unscientific claims, rolled his eyes. “Trends. Hmm.”

“No need to be snide.” Victor’s eyes narrowed, but his smile remained. “Consider this: when a person first comes into the nursing home, there is only one thought on his mind—home. They want to go home. Now. Immediately. They want to escape, like a dog that’s been put in the pound.”

“Obviously.”

Victor moved another pawn forward. “However, once you lock a dog in the pound long enough, that dog will eventually start to give up all hope of escape. The same thing happens when you lock a human being up in a building full of medical equipment. And let’s face it, Gabriel, the residents of this nursing home are quite trapped. Though perhaps not quite as trapped as those unfortunate souls in the Level Five unit.”

Gabriel shuddered. Level Five. That was Bright New Day’s special locked unit, accessible only to those with the right keys. Level Five was where they kept the residents with especially difficult dementia, the wanderers and the troublemakers. Those were the ones reaching a point where their mental faculties were so compromised that they couldn’t be permitted any semblance of a normal life.

“Mr. Schist?” Victor asked.