There was one thing he hadn’t told her, though he wasn’t sure why. During his time inside, he had watched a lot of television. There wasn’t much else to do. The hospital paid for cable and set up a room with a TV and lots of chairs where the nonviolent patients could spend their time. It kept them out of trouble, and was a relatively cheap babysitter. Jonathan became fascinated by The Learning Channel and watched the documentaries on ancient civilizations with interest. He really was a fast learner, especially when the learning interested him. There was one in particular he admired and focused on, watching the program whenever it was broadcast. Finally, he had it taped by one of the staff so he could watch it whenever he wanted. It was called The Secrets of The Mochai, and it dealt with a sixth-century civilization that existed on the north coast of Peru. It was a violent and simple culture, but a beautiful one, filled with paintings and murals of colorful people. The program showed ancient burial plots and giant mud-brick temples pitted with grave robbers’ holes.

He became fascinated by the culture. It was filled with worship and religion, gods and demigods. He began to look forward to the part of the show where they described “the decapitator,” a demigod that was part spider, part man, and played the role of the sacrificer in the priests’ ceremonies. The paintings of the creature were so beautiful. There was a certain painting he liked, only partially preserved. It showed a huge being with long, black arms holding a knife covered in blood in one hand, and a severed head in the other, grotesque but somehow so alive. He wondered if it were real. He wondered how the prisoners felt, lining up to meet the decapitator. He wondered how the knife felt touching their necks.

When he left the hospital, he missed two things, the doctor and the documentary about the Mochai. He could call the doctor, but there was no television. His job left him lonely and often afraid. Perhaps this wasn’t the perfect place for him, as the doctor had thought. Perhaps he would be better back in the hospital.

As he worked in that cold, lonely place, something began working at his mind, digging its fingers into his skull. He could feel it, digging, digging. He didn’t know what the thing was, but it made him more frightened than he had ever been. It seemed to him that someone was watching, spying on him. He stopped calling the doctor because they were listening. He kept most of the lights turned off so they wouldn’t see him. He stayed away from the windows, and only went out when it was absolutely necessary, to get firewood or check the machine.