The John Doe

  Chapter 3:

  As the days and weeks passed, John was able to walk easier and further, though still relying on a cane to stop him staggering, always to the left. He was beginning to know his surroundings, though he was never left alone, always with two male nurses close. Once he no longer spent hours sleeping every day, his meals were regularized, and his days settled into more of a routine. John thought he was a patient, although he didn’t understand why he should be getting so much attention. He didn’t like it very much, but knew no other life. He could barely remember the other hospital any more. It seemed lost in those days where blackness ruled, those days when he’d been born, it seemed to him, though he knew that he was around twenty-four. Isaac said so.

  He’d been at the facility two months, and it was the end of May. Isaac said he was to have a brain scan. John was cooperative until he saw that he was supposed to allow himself to be put deep into a place that pressed around him. With panic in his voice, he refused to do it, only turning around and trying to leave, as Isaac explained that he would not be hurt, that it was just an examination. It was harmless, he could shut his eyes if he wanted. It would only take about ten minutes, and would give his doctor valuable information.

  John took a grip on himself. But he could not go into that machine. In a shaking voice, he explained to Isaac that he was a damaged man, that he could not be put into that confined space, that he would not be able to be still.

  Isaac looked at him for long moments, and then nodded. “All right, we won’t do it.”

  John sighed with relief, and didn’t know that Isaac had decided that they’d just have to drug him.

  Lunchtime, he took a mouthful of his meal and put down his fork. He was hungry, as he always was, still very thin, still needing more weight on. He tried again, carefully, tasting. He put down his fork and pushed away the plate. They suspected he had some telepathic ability by now, and his nurses had not been told that his meal was to be drugged in case they gave some indication that something was unusual. Rockdale asked if there was something wrong. John said that he wasn’t hungry and asked if he could go out instead. Rockdale shrugged, put down his paper, and he and Price escorted John outside. He could walk longer distances now, and headed toward the area of tall trees that started not far from the buildings.

  Isaac came to find him, having been quickly advised that the drugged meal was a failure. Rockdale and Price were not close, just keeping an eye on him as he walked. There were guards about also, in camouflage uniforms, but they’d been told not to come close, and John had never asked about them. The clothing he wore had been chosen by himself, from those he was offered. He wore jeans, and a bright red shirt, that pleased him. The color pleased his guards too, as he was so conspicuous. All of the shirts he wore were bright, mostly red, sometimes a vivid yellow, and one a brilliant blue.

  Isaac came up with him as he leaned against a tall tree, looking up into the branches, not yet in full leaf. He greeted his doctor, unsuspicious. Isaac asked why he didn’t eat his lunch. John still touched the tree. It was so solid, alive, different from the feel of humans. It was friendly and he wanted to climb it, but he knew he didn’t yet have the strength. But he kept his hand on the trunk.

  Isaac repeated his question. John finally answered that he didn’t like his meal. Isaac was looking at him assessingly. He’d made a lot of progress in the last month, and he wanted to see if there was any change in the brain scan. John always spent hours outside, whenever his nurses would allow. He had not, so far, openly revolted against the decrees of his nurses, though they were careful not to oppose him when he was determined. He just might have unusual abilities, though magical shaving seemed harmless enough.

  It was better if he continued to trust his regular nurses, so when he was lured back into the room with a promise of a replacement meal, it was a relief nurse that suddenly pressed in the syringe. John gave a roar of fury, swung around, and neatly and fiercely, knocked him out. Again, he’d surprised them.

  John stared at the fallen man, and then, suspiciously, at Price and Rockdale. He gently rubbed his arm, beginning to feel a treacherous sleepiness. Urgently, he went to the door. He had to go out and hide. They were going to do something to him. Rockdale tried to detain him, grabbing an arm, but John wheeled on him, fists balled.

  Instead of direct confrontation, they only followed him at a distance as he walked as fast as he could, straight across the parkland, further than he’d been before. He didn’t see the fence, but walked straight into it and staggered back. He put out a hand, feeling the wire, and raising his head. It was almost invisible to him. Blackness was closing in on him, and he went down quite quickly once he discovered he couldn’t easily escape.

  Colonel Bedville was already watching film of the half-blind, sick man, as he displayed a lightning speed and ferocity in response to the shock of an injection. There would soon be more for him to think about. John revived halfway through the brain scan, panicked at finding himself in the enclosed space, and became uncontrollable. They fought him to a halt, but the scanner would cost tens of thousands of dollars to repair, and two guards and a visiting radiographer were out of action for a few days.

  John was collapsed in exhaustion. Worse, he no longer had any trust in his nurses or in his doctor. He seldom spoke and he refused even to step on the scales for Isaac when he wanted to weigh him. About the only thing he would say was that he was better now and wanted to leave. They told him he was still too sick, and when he accused them of keeping him a prisoner, said again that it was just a research hospital. That he was just a patient. John behaved himself for a few days, eating all he was given, and walking as best he could when they took him outside.

  It didn’t take him long to get back to his previous level of fitness, and then to improve a bit more. A week after the brain scan incident, he started walking around the perimeter fence. It was a tall fence, and suddenly the image was clear in his head - about twelve feet high, and with barbed wire shiny, all along the top. An ordinary research hospital? There was a cleared area which extended inwards for about twenty feet, outwards for a lot further. No trees, grass mown. There were people watching. He peered, squinting, unable to see the soldiers. Then he started walking again.

  The Colonel had been alerted and was watching the images from the cameras. There was no part of the fence not being filmed. John touched the fence now and again as he walked. He was beginning to tire, but he didn’t stop until he came across the gate, and watched as a car approached, a guard checked identification, and the tall and solid gate was opened for it. The image abruptly blurred. It had been quite clear for a moment.

  The guards were much closer than usual, and were alternately watching John and watching the gate, ready to act if needed. They knew the subject could not be allowed to leave, although they didn’t know why. They knew their duty, however, and would follow orders. But John only crossed the road and continued following the fence. He was staggering now. He was still very thin, and he depended on his cane to keep his balance.

  He stopped when he reached the place where he’d started. There had been just the one gate. He felt the wire again. He thought he could climb it, but only if he was barefoot. But not today. Today, he stumbled tiredly to the foot of his favorite tree, curled up on the ground, and slept. Three guards were not far away and his nurses were close. But Isaac said just to leave him.

  Two hours later, he woke and sat up. And when he was pointed to a path off to the side, where a wheelchair waited, he didn’t argue, but went where they pointed. They wheeled him back. He wondered when he’d be strong. Or would he be strong? He couldn’t remember ever being strong. He wouldn’t ask Isaac. Isaac couldn’t be trusted.

  Three days later, he made the test. He needed to know if he was really a prisoner, so he ignored the shouts, knocked down the soldier who grabbed at him, and continued out the gate which had just been opened for a car, striding fast, although still holding his cane. He was actually out the
gate when the stun gun was held to his ribs, and the trigger pulled very briefly. It should have immobilized him only momentarily, enough for him to be overpowered. Instead, he fell instantly into a violent fit.

  He was sick then for three weeks, fitting repeatedly to begin with, but then that terrible head pain came back. After the first few times, Isaac gave orders that when he went down to the pain, he was just to be left to lie. When he was interfered with, no matter how benign the intention, he was apt to start fitting again, and fits can do damage. John Doe was already very badly damaged.

  The last week, he was back in a coma. Isaac finally got his brain scan. This time, John was under full anesthesia in spite of his apparently comatose state. It turned out to be a pointless test, no change from the very first time it was done when he was picked up from the gutter six months before. Distinctly abnormal, but not in a way they understood. Maybe he was a mutation.

  They had to use the nasogastric tube again, but this time they kept a continuous monitoring of brain waves, and Isaac had a good idea when he started to emerge from deep unconsciousness. This time, the tube was already removed when he opened his eyes and felt his face. He had a beard now, as he’d been three months without a shave. But to their disappointment, he only asked for a razor, as he’d done repeatedly before. Oddly, now he knew for sure that he was a prisoner, he treated his nurses with less suspicion. It seemed he liked to know where he was.

  Some of the guards were beginning to know him by sight now, and were pleased when he was seen outside again, although in a wheelchair, and again very pale and thin. They’d been told the barest minimum, and were very curious.

  Rockdale was pushing his wheelchair, and Isaac walked alongside. But now Isaac introduced him to three soldiers. He gave him their Christian names, Zack, Rudy, and Bob. Without any further attempt at pretence, Isaac said, “These are your guards. There are others. Whenever you’re outside your room, at least two of them will be close and will ensure that you do not escape. Sergeant Major Zack Willis is in charge of you, and if you have any unusual requests, you should ask Zack.”

  John, perfectly politely, shook the hands of the three soldiers, feeling their presence, but wishing they’d wear something he could see better. They were clear enough sometimes, but then they faded into the background again. He glanced at his own shirt, the bright red-orange that had pleased him so greatly when it was laid out for him. He realized now what a disadvantage that conspicuous color could be.

  That day, and for the next few days, he did little except try and regain his strength. He was eating well again, but refused to step onto the scales so that Isaac could measure his weight. He wouldn’t answer any questions either, saying that he didn’t believe in cooperating too much with his jailers.

  They didn’t try and force him. They treated him with a great deal of care. They wanted to find out as much as possible about him, about what he was, and they knew for sure that he had an unusual power. Maybe he could be very dangerous. Whenever they doubted, they had only to look at that film again. They didn’t know why he hadn’t done it since, as it was obvious he hated his ugly beard. It was thin and patchy still, bedraggled looking, even after three months. Whatever else he might be good at, it was not growing beards.

  The other thing was his possible telepathy. He seemed to know exactly when people were close, though his eyesight was so poor. And he’d known there was something wrong with his meal that time.

  Isaac was blaming his patient’s erratic eyesight on the head injury, as he blamed the frequent stagger, always to the left, and the attacks of trembling. The amnesia, too, of course. In consultation with Colonel Bedville, they decided to allow him as much freedom as possible. They would learn more about him than if he were kept closely confined.

  It was deemed absolutely essential that he not be allowed to escape. He was an unknown quantity, and potentially dangerous. So now there was a second perimeter fence nearing completion, just as high, and topped with barbed wire. There was an electrified fence after that, and another lower fence, just to keep possible trespassers from electrocuting themselves. The guards, with their German Shepherds, patrolled between the two high fences. There was no ambiguity. The subject was not expected to be strong enough for a serious escape attempt for a while, but once he was, he was to be killed rather than be allowed past the perimeter of the Compound.

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