Chapter 4:
John was walking again, although still with a cane. Zack walked with him, Rudy and Bob close by, while his nurses had some time off. He was always escorted by guards now, rather than nurses, even though the male nurses were soldiers too. All of his personal guards had been MPs, most of them with the rank of sergeant, and none of them, they thought, likely to be defeated if the subject tried to fight. But John took his escort of large men for granted, and had a knowledge somewhere within him that they could be friends.
Zack walked on his left, where he could steady him when he staggered. John was walking alongside the Administration Building, studying it. Sometimes it was clear, and sometimes it was a featureless blur. He came to the imposing main entrance and turned to look at it.
“That’s Staff Only,” said Zack. Lots of places were Staff Only. It annoyed John.
“Who’s the boss here?” he abruptly asked of Zack.
“Well, I am,” said Zack, misunderstanding. “You have to do what I say.” He sometimes thought that John didn’t quite understand that.
But John said, “I mean the overall boss - who’s in charge?”
“Colonel Mark Bedville is in charge,” Zack calmly replied.
“I’m going to see him,” announced John, and started toward the steps.
“John, wait,” said Zack. John ignored him. “You can’t go in there,” said Zack. He was reluctant to physically intervene, as John was still so thin and weak, and he didn’t want him fighting. He put his hand on his arm, gently restraining.
John said firmly, “A prisoner has a right to know why he’s a prisoner. I’m going to see the boss.”
Zack hesitated, now holding tighter to his determined charge. “We’ll ask,” he said, and he guided John toward another man whom John suddenly saw because Zack was looking at him. Zack saluted and put the request.
The lieutenant looked curiously at the subject, who glanced at him, then looked back at the large building, cocking his head slightly and extending his senses. Many people were in there. But he wanted to see the boss.
Within five minutes, they had their answer. The Colonel would see John in half an hour.
John sat down on the steps and waited. He had nothing better to do right now. There were already cameras in most of the corridors of the building, just in case they were needed. Now they were activated, set into play by a technician who hurried through the enclosed corridor that connected from the even larger building that housed Ward 3. Three cameras were rigged to cover the Colonel’s large office. The message came back as soon as everything was prepared. It had only taken twenty minutes.
John stumbled as he rose, misjudging the steps. Zack grabbed his arm and was calmly thanked. Zack grinned to himself. John didn’t treat him as if he was an enemy, but as if he was an equal, taking it entirely for granted when he was helped.
Colonel Mark Bedville was fifty. He was a tall, rangy man, with a searching expression. His hair was sparse, but carefully groomed, his uniform immaculate. John’s casual attire, his apparent youth, his long hair held back in a ponytail, and, above all, his scruffy beard and half starved appearance, did not appear to measure up. But he nodded when the Colonel introduced himself, and said, “Hello, Mark.”
The Colonel blinked. So did John’s three guards, ranged at his back. No-one called Colonel Bedville ‘Mark,’ except, presumably, his wife. But Mark greeted John amiably, and invited him to sit down. There was a knock at the door, and a young soldier brought in coffee and a tray with plates of sandwiches and cakes.
John smiled at the young man, who was looking acutely anxious. But John invariably liked anyone who brought him food, and it appeared that the Colonel had a sweet tooth.
The Colonel spoke about the hot summer weather, and asked John what the climate was like in his part of the country. John looked surprised, and said that he had no part of the country.
Mark smiled at him pleasantly. “What’s your real name?”
John looked away. He knew now that John Doe was just a convenient name for an unknown hospital patient. Zack was suddenly acutely sorry for him. He was sick, he’d lost his past, and he was a prisoner.
But John only took another sandwich, rose and leaned against the wall, and coolly looked at the middle-aged man in front of him. “I want to know why I’m a prisoner,” he stated. “I have a right to know.”
Mark looked at him assessingly. “Very well, I’ll show you.”
He had it ready, that piece of film that he’d watched many times. And now he watched it again, as did Zack and Rudy behind him. Bob was close to the Colonel, and to him, it was not in view. But John saw, and saw clearly. He frowned and looked closer. “Run it again,” he said, his tone one of casual command.
Mark was surprised at the tone, but ran it again, and a third time.
John finally turned back to Mark, and spoke in a tone of polite incredulity, “And this is why I’m a prisoner, someone’s idea of an April Fool’s Day joke?”
Mark gaped and checked the date. It had been filmed on the first of April. Could it have been an April Fool’s Day Joke? But he remembered, there were witnesses, four at the public hospital, and two in the room with him at the time, plus observers behind the see-through wall. Also film from other cameras, though they didn’t show it as well.
He regained his composure, and now spoke in a tone of authority. “You have shown a power that we do not understand. This is why you will never be released.”
John’s expression didn’t change, but his voice quivered slightly, “I will never be released?”
The Colonel spoke gravely. “You cannot be released. We don’t understand what happened. You will never be allowed back into the community when you have an ability that could be dangerous.”
John felt his total conviction. The man meant what he said.
There was a long silence. John still leaned against the wall. His face was cold, expressionless. At last he spoke. “This place, surely it’s not just for me!”
Mark nodded and half smiled, “Just for you.”
“It must be incredibly expensive. What happens if there’s a budget cut and the place is closed down? Would I be released then?”
The Colonel’s voice left no room for doubt. “You will never be released.”
John nodded. “Thank you for telling me.” He turned his back and left. Zack said nothing as he headed back toward his room.
His nurses greeted him. John regarded them and said that he was no longer sick, did not need nurses, and that they should leave him alone for a while.
Zack nodded. “Leave him alone for a while.” He wouldn’t really be alone, they’d be watching from the next room.
They watched for a long half hour as John sat in a chair, head lowered, and was still. He would never be released. He looked up, straight at Isaac, who was watching behind the wall. Isaac knew the situation. Mark was there too, standing at the back of the room.
John rose. He hated that wall. He knew there were people there, watching, watching, all the time. There was an IV stand in the room, which still looked exactly like a hospital room. John picked it up, went to where an observer peered at him from too close, and suddenly crashed the weapon into the wall, making the watcher jump back with a startled cry. John smiled.
Then, methodically, he started hitting the wall, working along the walls, searching for weaknesses. But the wall was bulletproof, and no IV stand was going to break it, no matter with what determination it was wielded. He turned to the rest of the room.
“Stop him?” one of the soldiers asked the Colonel.
Colonel Bedville shook his head. “Let him alone.” And they only watched as John methodically destroyed everything in that room that could be destroyed. He turned his attention to the adjoining bathroom, shattering the mirror, but managing only to crack the toughened glass of the shower cubicle.
He returned to the main room, peered suddenly at where a camera was, and hit it,
precisely, with his fist. The man who’d been watching the film as it happened, flinched and recoiled.
John was swaying with fatigue, but tried the external door, surprised to find it not locked. He was reeling and staggering as he left the room, depending heavily on his cane. His three guards merely followed at a distance. John went to his favorite tree, looked up at the branches where he wanted to be, but instead sat below it and stared into the distance. There was no place private enough even to cry.
Zack, Rudy, and Bob kept an eye on him, but left him alone to brood. Zack felt the vibration of the Zoster Communicator, like a mobile phone but more secure, that he carried in his chest pocket, and spoke to Isaac. John was to be left alone, but preferably taken for lunch when he was ready. Repairs were being undertaken in his room, and he was to be taken to the staff dining room as a temporary measure. Isaac didn’t really want him missing meals, but thought he might well be too upset to eat.
But John was only staring into the distance, not fully realizing himself how close he was to collapse. He didn’t have the strength for tantrums, and after a while, he lay down and slept until Zack gently shook him, asking if he wanted lunch. John looked at him blearily before pulling himself to his feet, Zack’s steadying hand under his elbow.
There was another large building, Staff Only again, where the soldiers ate, where most of them slept, and where there were some recreation facilities provided. Isaac had a secondary office there, where he saw any of the staff who needed medical attention. John was not his only duty, though it was the primary one. More facilities were being organized, as security could be compromised if staff had ties outside the base. Another building was going up, more accommodation for soldiers. There had been some changes over the last month, and now there were hardly any who were married except some of the officers and a few of the specialists.
The few soldiers having a late lunch stared at the subject curiously as John came in accompanied by three guards. He was of only average height, very thin, and Zack was helping him again as he swayed unsteadily. It was a cafeteria arrangement, and he smiled at the pretty woman who doled out an excellent meal.
“I thought I might be on bread and water,” he commented to Zack and Bob who were eating with him, though Rudy had taken position near the door.
“I wouldn’t go making a habit of destroying things,” Zack said, “But I’ve heard no plans to punish at this stage.”
John shrugged. He was a lab rat, he supposed, and people didn’t punish lab rats, they only noted down their interesting behaviors.
When he finished his meal, he said to Zack, “Isaac said to ask you if I had requests. I would like a proper bedroom please, where no-one watches and where there’s no cameras, and I’d like a window.”
Zack hadn’t known that he knew about the cameras that surrounded him, but only said that he’d speak to the Colonel. He thought it a perfectly reasonable request. He’d go mad himself, he thought, if he found himself under constant surveillance. He was looking forward to seeing the film of John destroying ‘Ward 3.’
Isaac came in and joined them at the table. “Feeling better?” he asked John.
John said calmly as he stood, “Maybe I’d best just have another dessert.” He introduced himself to the woman that time, and smiled at her beguilingly, “Please, Sylvia,” and she went to the trouble of getting him another dessert, although all the food had been put away.
Isaac watched approvingly. The man was too thin. There was a new feature in Ward 3 now, John’s weight would be automatically monitored every day, as he walked through the door.
Two weeks later, John was told that he’d be put back into Ward 3 if he became sick again, but they showed him to a small suite of rooms, sitting room, bedroom and bathroom. There was only one entrance from the corridor, which opened to the sitting room. No-one watched the action on camera as it happened, as Isaac suspected that he could sense the presence of the cameras when they did that. But he knew his half blind patient would be unlikely to see the tiny lenses of cameras that peered at him from a dozen different angles.
John was delighted with his quarters, and showed his pleasure. The sitting room was spacious and comfortably furnished. It had a collection of music, and a player, and equipment to show films, a selected assortment arranged ready for his use. He went to look out of the window, suddenly seeing clearly as Zack joined him. There was a large tree, and a garden bed being worked on by a gardener. He may have been a prisoner for life, but he was to be very well treated, it seemed.
“The windows are barred, and of toughened glass besides,” said Zack, in a matter-of-fact tone. “You’ll be locked in every night, but you’ll be alone. If you need something, the buzzer is next to the door.”
John looked, went across to the door, but didn’t find the clearly marked buzzer until Zack touched it, and he put his hand to it, too.
Zack continued. “Breakfast will be brought to you at seven in the morning, and you’ll be released at eight unless we need you for anything. Other meals will be at noon, and at seven. There are coffee making facilities in the sitting room, as well as packets of biscuits, etcetera, and you can come and go freely during the day provided that you behave. Colonel Bedville asks especially that you cooperate with your doctor when he does his tests.”
John looked around him with satisfaction, and smiled at Zack. “This is much better. Thank you.”
Zack smiled back. It appeared that the subject was reconciled to being a prisoner, and after all, it was an easy and comfortable life. But still, business like, he explained the procedure when someone was coming into his room, a place near the far wall where he should stand and wait. “They can check from the corridor, of course,” said Zack, still in a businesslike tone, as if it was perfectly normal that a sick and half blind man should be treated as a potentially dangerous prisoner.
Zack said, “By the way, there’s an electric shaver in the bathroom.”
John gave a smile of delight, “A shaver?” But he was puzzled when it was pointed out. It seemed he was unfamiliar with electric shavers, and even when Zack demonstrated, he shaved awkwardly, feeling his face, unable to see well enough in the mirror. But afterwards, he was cleanshaven finally, and only had a few very small whiskery patches left. And his eyes were merry when he turned back to Zack, who still waited in the room, though the others were now just outside his door. “Much better!” he declared happily, and Zack clapped him on the shoulder.
The light in John’s bedroom was remotely operated, and he was never in darkness, the light at night only lowered somewhat, though there was a switch to make it brighter again if he wanted. In all his remembered life, he had never slept in darkness. He never queried his lack of choice.
John wasn’t a fool. He could be friends with his guards, but they were his jailers, and they knew their duty. Zack and the rest carried stunners, batons and even handguns. And if necessary, they would not have the slightest hesitation in using them. They were professional soldiers. But until they were in conflict, they could be friends.
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