Chapter 17:
Major Greenspan had been transferred, and the next in line, Captain Prendergast, blanched at the thought of taking over, but Mark had to go into hospital for a hernia operation. General Buller said that of course, Forster would take over. He was willing, it was best not to let any new people know about Facility 19, and he assured Mark that Forster knew not to make any changes in policy. Mark protested, but the general clapped him on the shoulder and said jovially, “What harm can he do in just ten days or so?”
Two days later, Forster dropped in, just to be brought up to date, he said. Mark refused to have John taken to Ward 3 for closer observation, but agreed when he requested to see recent film of his activities. He was especially interested in watching as the subject exercised in the gymnasium, or played with others in the pool. There was a game of informal water polo that was now a regular thing, and John was an enthusiastic participant on every occasion he wasn’t ill. Forster would have liked to ask to see footage of John with Clare, but couldn’t think of an excuse. Once he was in charge, of course, he could even make copies and take them home. He knew it was top secret, but anyone accidentally seeing it would not know that it was anything special.
There were things that Mark didn’t bring to his attention, especially his worry that John was practising his mysterious power. He emphasized his sickliness, instead, but regretted it when Forster didn’t sufficiently hide his pleasure when he watched film of John rolling on the ground in agony.
“But what can we do?” Isaac said, when Mark shared his worry.
Mark looked at his friend soberly. “He’s having nightmares again. He knows there’s something wrong, though no-one’s told him, of course.”
Isaac said, “Some would label him a Sensitive.”
“And so he is, but a lot more than that, I think.” He added, “I go in Monday.”
Isaac nodded. He already knew, less than a week now.
Isaac stared out the window for a while, and finally stirred. “No matter what the general says, John will almost certainly come into conflict with Forster. Forster won’t be able to resist exercising his power.” He smiled slightly. “He won’t risk John hitting him again, of course.”
Mark smiled as well. He didn’t like Forster. Isaac continued. “Anyway, what we have to do, I think, is knock him out until you’re back.”
Mark looked surprised. “Keep him unconscious?”
“It might keep him alive.”
“He’s going down fairly regularly at the moment, isn’t he?”
“Every few days, it seems. We’ll take no chances. Next time, he just won’t wake up until you’re back.”
Mark shook his head. “He’s a responsibility.”
They waited. But John didn’t go down. When Isaac referred to the attacks, John said optimistically that maybe it’d never happen again. He’d said that before, every time he was free of them for a while. As always, he refused to cooperate in any examination, although his weight was automatically recorded each time he stepped though the door of his bedroom.
Sunday morning, they ran out of time. Forster was coming early. John was to be confined to Ward 3 until he arrived. A quick check of the RABs located him in the library, and checking the appropriate screen showed a clear picture of him running his hand along the backs of books as if choosing one to read. Mark looked at Isaac. “We’ll try and persuade him, but it’s going to wind up brute force, I suspect. Is it worth it?”
Isaac looked very grim. “You’ve seen Forster drooling over him in the shower, you know the sort of film that interests him. John’s best protection right now is to be safely unconscious in bed.”
By the time Isaac and Mark started toward John, he was heading toward the swimming pool change room. With Isaac and Mark, were Zack, Rudy and Timothy, the guards John was closest to, although they’d been supposed to be off duty. They would keep their mouths shut and would follow orders, especially if they knew it was for John’s own protection. The guards on duty would come in if needed. But Isaac hoped to persuade John to trust him and accept the injection. After all, he’d looked after him so often now, as his doctor, and he thought John should trust him. He couldn’t tell him why he had to have an injection, though. As few as possible must know that he was to be kept deliberately unconscious. Anyway, it was certain he wouldn’t agree to being put to sleep for at least ten days.
John sat on a bench in the change-room. He’d already taken off shoes and socks, but was now involved in listening to Rossi, one of the soldiers who worked in administration. Rossi had girl troubles.
Nicholas and Lance stood within the room, at either side of the door. Peter was outside, surprised that they were apparently about to be replaced. John looked up as Isaac and Mark entered, followed by three more guards. A quick word, and Nicholas and Lance left the room. Mark nodded at Rossi, “Thank you, Corporal, we just need to talk to John alone for a moment.”
John stared, his eyes going to the three guards whom he knew so well, and who knew him so well. He stood, moving softly, but quite quickly, to a different wall, where no bench might strike him in the back of the legs if he had to fight. He’d known that something was about to happen. Zack’s roster vibrated, and a warning voice cautioned that the subject was extremely tense. Isaac started talking. John had to go to Ward 3. He had to have an injection. It was for his own good, and he just had to trust his doctor. Mark thought that Isaac had made a basic mistake. He thought that no mention should be made of any injection until it had been administered.
John was showing no trust at all. His eyes flicked warily to the guards. His face was calm, but he was trembling. Mark said, “You have to trust us, John. We’re acting for your safety. Trust us to keep you safe.”
But John answered coldly, “You cannot be trusted.”
Mark said sadly, wearily, “Please, John. You have to have an injection. We can’t tell you what it’s for, but believe me, it’s for your own good.”
Isaac stepped forward, soothing. “Just a little pinprick, and it’ll all be over.”
John raised his fists slightly. His voice was still calm, “No.”
Zack almost pleaded, “John, we don’t want to have to hold you.”
John replied, “I didn’t want to have to fight you, ever, but I will not submit to an injection.”
Mark said, trying to use a calming, reasonable tone, “How about we go to Ward 3, and we’ll talk about it there.”
John cast his eyes around, “There’s less to trip over in here. I think I’d rather fight here if it’s all the same to you.”
The guards started to spread out. Isaac said urgently, “Don’t use the stun guns!”
John’s trembling ceased. Now he stood tense, legs very slightly bent, very slightly on tiptoe, ready for an attack. Isaac and Mark moved back, and Isaac turned his back on John, as he pulled the prepared syringe from its container. Isaac’s zoster vibrated. Zack and Rudy were starting to move in, one on each side, Timothy faced John, and waited. John was fully alert, knowing exactly where they were. A step forward, and big Timothy shook his head. How was he on the floor?
John was again backed up, to a different wall this time. But there was nowhere to go, nowhere to run to. Isaac said loudly, “Wait!”
Zack and Rudy paused. Mark jerked his head, and the guards joined him at the door, Timothy rather slowly, still dazed from the lightning blow. The information was shared in a very low voice, the men watched warily by John. John was going to go down. All they had to do was wait. No-one was attacking John now.
John dropped his fists, and put his head very slightly on one side, trying to work out why they’d changed their minds. Mark said calmly that they’d walk to Ward 3 just as soon as John saw reason. There was no hurry.
For ten minutes, they waited, John still tense, but puzzled. He wasn’t about to see reason. They should have known. It was like being tied up. He couldn’t see reason when he might be made helpless with a drug.
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Isaac left the room for a moment so that John wouldn’t see him checking his pocket RAB 3. Indications were that he was still very ready to fight.
Maybe it was because of his tension, but John appeared to feel no warning at all, just suddenly fell, convulsing in a violent fit. They had him in his bed in Ward 3 even before the spasms had completely died down, and an Intravenous drip in place hardly any time after that. It seemed that the pain was just too great for drugs to work, and John’s eyes opened, but glazed, and showing the agony he suffered. Isaac soothed. John was scarcely aware. The pain ceased and John’s body relaxed.
By the time Forster strutted in, making no effort to be quiet, John lay unmoving, drugged. The nurse, Joe Price, was just adjusting restraints around his wrists. It would please Forster, no doubt, as well as ensuring that the needle in his arm would stay in place.
Isaac nodded at the drip. “To combat shock. The pain he suffers is quite extreme.”
Forster looked. “How long is this likely to last?”
“Recent episodes have been only been about a half hour of pain, followed by an hour or two unconscious. It’s unpredictable, of course, and I’ve seen him suffer for fifteen hours nonstop, and almost continuous illness for over a month.”
Forster came closer, reached out, and stripped off the covers of the bed. Isaac tried hard to keep his face from registering his disgust. Forster ran a hand over bare ribs. John always seemed thin, seldom well enough for long enough to put on a decent covering of flesh.
“Don’t you have to put in a tube in order to feed him?” Forster asked.
Isaac said calmly that he didn’t think that would be necessary, as he’d probably be up and about fairly shortly.
Forster nodded. “Very well, call me if there’s any change.”
As soon as he was gone, Isaac covered the naked body again and set up for EEG monitoring. John must not be allowed to wake up. The screen that showed John on the bed was left on in Mark’s office, now being used by Forster. A separate screen soon showed other film of John. It was justified, of course, in Forster’s mind. The whole facility was because of John with his possible mysterious powers, and if sometimes he thought that maybe he shouldn’t dwell quite so much on those instances when John was fighting or ill, he would caress the jaw that had been so badly broken, and forget his misgivings.
In the morning, Forster visited early. And again, he pulled down the covers. Now there was a urine bag. Isaac said calmly, “He hates being helpless, and, of course, panics totally when he is restrained or when he has injections.”
Forster thought he concealed his satisfaction. He was waiting for the time that John would wake up and fight against the restraints.
There was no change until the middle of the night. Nicki was acting as night nurse, and called Isaac, urgently. Lance was in the room, as well, as guard. John was fretting, probably a nightmare, and looked as if he was about to wake.
“More sedative, straight away, and take off the restraints,” said Isaac. “I’m coming.”
Nicki managed to get the restraints off just before John woke with a cry. He wrenched himself out of bed, and stood, swaying uncertainly, back to the wall, in a defensive position that seemed instinctive to him. He was looking confused, and when he saw Isaac, said that he had to have a shower.
Isaac nodded. “Of course. We’ll get it ready. But how about you get back into bed while it’s prepared?”
John’s gaze wandered, and then he asked, rather pathetically, “Are you looking after me?”
Isaac soothed, “Yes, I’m looking after you,” and suggested again that John get back into bed.
John looked at the bed. “I can’t get back into bed. The sheets have to be changed.”
Isaac said calmly, “Nicki, change the sheets, please.”
The sheets were perfectly clean, but Nicki shrugged and changed the sheets, quickly and efficiently.
When prompted again, John walked unsteadily to the bed and lay down. His eyes found Isaac’s, and he said plaintively, “I don’t like it.” But his eyes closed even as tears trickled down his cheeks. When he was securely asleep again, the various tubes and sensors were reattached, the restraints as well.
There was no further change, except that in the morning, when Forster almost demanded it, the nurse inserted the nasogastric tube. Isaac said calmly, “He hates the feeding tube.”
Forster shrugged, and uncovered John again. “Look at the poor chap. He’s far too thin.”
When Forster left, Price awkwardly manoeuvred John into a pair of sleeping shorts. Price was not a particularly compassionate man, but saw no need for Forster to see his patient’s nakedness.
Forster was beginning to be frustrated. He wanted some live action from the subject. He knew he wasn’t supposed to provoke confrontation, but this was boring. For several days, he left John alone, trying to satisfy himself with watching film of John and Clare together. He wished they wouldn’t darken the room so much, or would be a bit more uninhibited. Surely under-the-cover action was old-fashioned, and neither of them were supposed to know there were cameras in Clare’s room.
Once, out of a dark curiosity, he watched the film of John’s lightning move when he’d had his jaw broken. Not all the film of John ill and in pain, could reconcile him to that episode.
Isaac was in contact with Mark every day. His recovery was proceeding well, though he admitted he was surprised at just how painful the wound had been, and just how little strength he seemed to have the first few days. “Doctors tell lies,” he said. “Minor discomfort, my ass!”
Isaac grinned. Doctors did tell lies. What did he tell John not so long before? Just a little pinprick, and it’d all be over?
The day before he was due to leave, Forster visited John one more time, wishing he could think of an excuse to ban the use of sleeping shorts. He liked seeing him as undignified as possible. It should have been enough that he was helpless, restrained, and had the feeding tube he hated. He reached across and touched the closed eyes. “I wonder if he knows that he was thoroughly raped not long before he was found. It must have been several men, and it must have been quite brutal, as there was blood all over his buttocks.” He spoke musingly.
John’s eyes slowly opened and he looked at Forster for a long moment, and then smiled slightly and closed his eyes again.
A technician in another room pointed to the pattern they’d begun to think was that of John trying to use his power. This time he was successful. Forster would be afflicted with boils, although they wouldn’t start showing for a day or two. There had been a change in the EEG readings, too, but it was disguised by the change caused by the brief awakening, and went unnoticed.
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