Chapter 6:
There were still nearly two months before Christmas. Colonel Bedville came to see John as he sat outside in a wheelchair a few days later, his right leg stretched out in front of him. He looked a touch pale, but Isaac said that he was making a fast recovery. It was the first time that the Colonel had come face to face with him since John had demanded an explanation of his captivity. The patient looked a lot better now, beardless, and altogether healthier.
John greeted him calmly and instantly as Mark. This was another of those odd things about John. Various pieces of film made it clear how poor was his vision, especially film of those first nights and days when he was alone in his new quarters. But this fact didn’t seem compatible with the way he could recognize people. Mark pushed John’s wheelchair himself, saying he wanted to sit down with him and have a chat. And when he stopped, it was next to an outdoor table setting. It was new. The gardens were beginning to show evidence of care and attention.
Mark said little for a while. The cool eyes of the subject surveyed him, and Mark felt an un-familiar discomfort. He finally spoke abruptly, “What can we do to make you happy here? You can’t leave, but you’re not a criminal, and I don’t want to punish.”
John smiled. “What can you do to make me happy?” And he leaned back in his chair, put his hands behind his head and his smile broadened. “I want a place that’s totally private that I can take a girl, if only I manage to convince one to come with me.”
Mark stared at him, and then broke into laughter. This was the last thing he’d expected.
John added, “You could replace Zack and the others with soldiers with names like Mandy, or Sue, or Tracey......”
Mark shook his head, but smiling. “You’ve just proven that personal guards are needed, and not for sex.”
John shrugged, “Shame.”
Mark asked more seriously, “Do you have any complaints about your guards?”
John shook his head. “Only that they’re there, but I presume that’s not negotiable. Otherwise, they’re good blokes. I like them.”
Mark was thinking about Alec Roberts. The boy had been very upset, hovering close as his dog sought to console the man he’d shot. His voice was serious as he said, “Private Roberts said that you apologized to him, you said that you should not have put him in that position.”
John was silent. Mark waited. John glanced at him, and said, “I’m not some sort of a Martian, in spite of what you may think. I’m only human, and something upset me.”
“The baby?”
John was looking away, his face sad. “Have you thought that maybe somewhere I have a wife and a baby of my own? It’s possible.”
Mark spoke stiffly. “You can’t miss what you don’t remember.”
John said nothing. He was homesick. Whether or not he remembered a home, he didn’t even know whether he had a home, but he was homesick. But why tell his jailers that? Instead he turned a brilliant smile on the boss, and said, “A horse would be nice, especially if I can ride further than the perimeter. Someone said that army land goes a lot further than the Compound.”
Mark rose. “I doubt if that will be possible.” Inexplicably, he wanted to apologize to the young man who was a prisoner, but reminded himself sternly of his duty. John had to be kept very, very secure. He may not have been a Martian, but even without further evidence of an inexplicable power, he was quite obviously not an ordinary man.
Two weeks after the shooting, John was trying to stand, complaining when it still hurt too much. Isaac was amused. “Surely you don’t expect a shattered bone to heal in two weeks. It was a very nasty wound. Amputation was considered, except that I remembered a report of very quick healing before when you were injured.”
“What injury was that?” asked John, innocently.
But the injury had been from a rape, and Isaac cursed himself for mentioning it. In that particular instance the amnesia was a mercy. He ignored the question. “It’s healing very well. Probably in another week you can get about on crutches, but don’t forget the other leg’s hurt as well.”
John stretched his left leg. “It’s almost better. I can hardly feel it.”
Isaac raised his eyebrows and asked to see it. There was another report to make. The subject healed miraculously quickly and obviously expected to, not apparently having any idea how long such an injury might be normally expected to take. He’d taken some deep cuts from the barbed wire, but they’d scarcely shown any traces after just a few days.
John didn’t treat his guards any differently, greeting Alec as if nothing had happened when he saw him at dinner one evening. Alec had been given a commendation. He still felt bad and John put some effort into making him smile.
Colonel Bedville put into place more security measures, although the money needed was allowed begrudgingly. Results were too slow in coming, was the word from above. More tests should be done. The subject should be kept under a much tighter discipline. But Colonel Bedville felt that he had something very special in the person of John. He had begun to develop a considerable respect for his subject. He’d allowed him to know the guards as friends, which might make them reluctant to stop him if needed, which could be a problem. But there was the other side of it. There was the power that he might have, that it seemed he might have forgotten how to use. Maybe he could be very dangerous indeed. But he was human, and he would be reluctant to hurt the guards who were his friends. Even his concern for Alec showed that.
A pair of secure high fences was started around the outer area of the army land, similar to those that surrounded the Compound. There was to be another electrified fence between, and the guards would patrol outside the two fences. The rifles were sufficiently high powered that they could go straight through the wire, just as long as the guard didn’t hit one of the steel uprights. This time, they were not going to use dogs - it was pointless when all the dogs quite obviously doted on John.
Including the Compound, the fences would securely enclose nearly three thousand acres. Different soldiers would guard the outer fence, but their accommodation would be away from the Compound, and they would not be allowed to meet the subject at all. These ones would not hesitate to shoot if John succeeded in getting that far. For the present, he was lame, and Mark had ignored the hints that it might be better if he were always lame. The man could barely see. Wasn’t that enough handicap for one person?
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