As though pulled together by some unseen force they moved to the centre of the canvass. John instantly opened with a combination that caused Vanessa to cover her head before ducking and throwing punches of her own. For a solid ten seconds they went blow for blow with elbows flailing and shoes sliding, and as Vanessa threw her weight forward and aimed for John’s ribs he whipped his left hand and slammed into her ear. That was three.
With muscles beginning to shake he edged back and lowered his gloves, the heat of the gym suddenly stifling and intense. He couldn’t tell if the glistening of Vanessa’s eyes was from perspiration or tears. The question remained unanswered, however, as she reached up and removed her head gear while using her forearm to wipe away the evidence. Next she wriggled her hands out of the gloves and dropped them to the canvass, then reached up and released her hair to fall back down to her shoulders. John followed her lead and removed his gear. No doubt about it, he was glad the sudden trial in combat was over. Prior to that morning the only women he’d engaged in violence with had been out of their minds on dope with a strength and viciousness that could only come with self induced psychosis.
When they were both able to get their breathing back under control Vanessa’s smile returned and John couldn’t help but look at her in a whole new light. It wasn’t so much her ability to throw a decent punch but the way she’d opened up a little of her world to him. If luck had dealt him any other driver he very much doubted he would’ve experienced anything like he just had. There’d be no chance of forgetting about it in a hurry either, consider he could feel the area along his ribs beginning to bruise already. Still sitting in the corner of the room, Sammy clapped his hands and chuckled as though he’d beaten someone to the punch line.
“You’re a brave man lifting your gloves to Nessy. Got a few moves on you though, I’ll give you that.”
“For a second there I thought you weren’t even gonna try to hit me,” Vanessa said with a twinge of jest. “Sammy’s right. You move pretty good.”
“Yeah, not too bad considering I didn’t exactly have time to prepare,” John joked.
She grabbed a couple of bottles of chilled water from an old, beat up fridge and tossed one his way. “Being your driver, that’s one thing. Gettin’ out of trouble is a whole other, so if you still want me to work for you I think it’s important we trust each other. What we did just there, that’s a pretty good start.”
John threw the bottle of water down with one gulp. Now that he could see her damaged hand again an element of fragility returned, except this time he knew that was a severely misinformed observation.
“I don’t know how long this job’s going to last,” he said between deep breaths, “but until it’s finishe I sure as hell don’t want anyone else behind the wheel.”
“If you insist.”
Vanessa grabbed two chairs from the far wall and invited to John to sit down. It didn’t take long for Sammy to begin to relive the boxing matches he’d survived from days long gone, weaving one story into another as his voice became more excited with each new opponent and cliff hanger description. John listened with great interest but couldn’t prevent his mind from wandering towards the evening that lay ahead.
Almost as though reading his thoughts the phone in his pocket vibrated. As Sammy switched his dialogue to the time he’d been knocked down twice before making a comeback and winning the contest, John stole a glance at the incoming message. It was nothing more than an address and a time, six o’clock. Now he knew where the seminar was going to be held. Whatever was in store for the meeting, he had to wonder if it could be any crazier than the day had already been. He slid the phone back into his pocket and allowed himself to be carried away by the boxing tales as Vanessa hung on his every word. Yes, he assured himself, there was every chance it could.
Chapter 14
Doctor Candice Garland sat quietly and waited for the crying to stop. Thankfully there’d been no blood this time, and no bloated body to slice open on the cool of stainless steel. Still, that didn’t mean things hadn’t become acutely unsettling, just that for the moment the session was without death. The day still had some hours in her yet though, and she’d be foolish to think there would be no more surprises. But the future wasn’t her immediate concern. No, it was the present that rightfully demanded her attention.
“It’s okay,” she whispered through a dry mouth, “really it is. There’s nothing in this room that can hurt you.”
The lights in the lab had been turned down, leaving the one way mirror black and almost featureless but for the soft reflections that struggled for clarity. Candice quietly shifted in her seat and peered at the woman in front of her. She would have been beautiful if constant years of drug abuse hadn’t aged her face with premature lines and faded red sores in various stages of healing. Yellow stained teeth that were chipped at the front didn’t exactly help either. Her small skeletal frame shook as though the room were made of ice and tears trailed down her cheeks. Candice gave her a bit of time before breaking the silence with a much more assured tone.
“Loretta, I imagine you’re still trying to process everything but it’s really important you tell me what happened. Just take some deep breaths and try to relax a little. I’ll give you something to help calm down in a moment, but first I need to know what you saw.”
Loretta wiped her nose and nodded to indicate she understood, though her body still shook enough that the only way to steady her hands was to clasp them together. Seated just over an arm’s length away she finally lifted her head so that their eyes met. There was no denying the look of utter fear that burst from her pupils.
“I don’t know if I can put it in words,” she half mumbled, half cried.
“Just do your best and don’t worry,” Candice assured her, “the words will come. All we need to know is what happened when we switched it on.”
Loretta opened her mouth and drew in several large gulps of air. Little by little the shaking began to ease and her cheeks began to dry. She looked around the room as though searching for something before turning back to Candice.
“At first I thought I was about to pass out, you know? Things started to get dizzy and I could see small silver spots in front of my eyes, the type I used to get as a kid before a migraine started. Then…” Her hands squeezed together even tighter. “I mean, this is going to sound crazy but it was like I was suddenly in two places at once. Like, I was in the room where you left me, you know? But at the same time I wasn’t. The only way I can describe it is long corridors that seemed to go in every direction. No doors though, I couldn’t see any doors.”
“Was it maybe somewhere you’ve been before?” Candice asked as she leaned forward to shorten the distance between them.
“No. It was more like a dream than anything real, and I didn’t really have a body. I mean, obviously I could see, but I couldn’t really feel anything, and I could move just using my thoughts.” Her face was beginning to show signs of stress again and her breathing was becoming staggered. “It didn’t matter which direction I went. The corridor kept going and going, with turns that just lead to more corridors that seemed to go on forever. It was crazy. I knew my body was still sitting in the chair but in my head I was trapped in those fucking corridors.”
“I need you to focus Loretta,” Candice said as calmly as she could, “I need you to focus for me and tell me if you heard anything.”
Loretta scratched at the side of her face with enough force to leave red trails. “Yeah I heard something, no doubt about that.”
For a moment she turned and stared at the black of the mirror as though she could see through to the lab on the other side. Candice wanted her to keep going but knew better than to try to rush things. Besides, whether she knew it or not, Loretta wasn’t going anywhere. After a long minute of staring, she turned back with fresh tears tumbling down her chin.
“Something told me I wasn’t welcome there.”
The words drew the moisture from Candice’s mouth and
left her struggling to swallow. An increased sense of unease slithered into the room as Loretta continued.
“When I say something, I don’t mean it like there was a voice or anything like that. It was like it came from everywhere at once but nowhere at the same time. Maybe it was just in my head? That’s what I thought at first anyway, but it kept going.” She grimaced as though from a jolt of pain. “It didn’t matter which corridor I went down it was still there, this presence, and it started changing and it was like it was telling me to leave and I wanted to leave but I couldn’t and then it started telling me it knew what I did and then I started to see these horrible oh so horrible things and I felt like I was going to be trapped in there forever…”
Her rambling suddenly came to a halt as she gulped for air. All of the colour had drained from her face except for the deep red of her eyes, leaving Candice frozen in the chair with thoughts racing. If what her subject was saying was true then things had most certainly escalated. Maybe, just maybe, they had crossed over the hurdle that had left them frustrated and without sleep for what seemed like weeks. The hurdle could well prove to be nothing more than an introduction to the mountain they’d have to climb, but for now it looked as though some sort of progress was being made. Quietly she was forced to admit that even though things were becoming increasingly terrifying, she was excited. As for Loretta well, she was beginning to shake uncontrollably again and scratching into her cheeks until blood began to seep between the tips of her fingers.
Candice reached across to the table on her right where the computer terminals sat and picked up a small syringe loaded with a clear liquid. It was, all things considered, the least she could do.
“You’re doing real good Loretta,” she said as she reached out and grabbed her wrist. “This will sting a little but it will help you to calm down.”
The point of the needle broke through the skin. Candice pulled gently on the plunger until a vivid red swirled into the chamber to confirm she’d found a vein, then pushed the liquid in. It only took a few seconds for the chemicals to transform into electrical signals and surge across the brain. Loretta released a soft sigh and let her hands drop down onto her lap as blood smeared across her chin. The muscles around her eyes visibly relaxed and her mouth seemed to struggle to close properly.
“How are you feeling now?” Candice asked.
“Like a cloud’s picked me up to take me somewhere safe and warm.”
“You are somewhere safe,” Candice declared while leaning back in her chair. “Nothing’s going to hurt you. But I need to know, what did you mean when you said it knew what you had done? Can you remember?”
Loretta nodded and closed her eyes for a few seconds before answering.
“Things started getting put into my head. I guess you could call them thoughts, only they weren’t really mine.” Her words were beginning to slur. “More like… a movie kind of, like someone had copied my memories and was making me watch them like it was someone else. And they knew.”
“What did they know?” Candice asked with simmering impatience.
In response Loretta’s eyes began to pull closed while her mouth remained partially open. Frustration brought Candice’s hand forward with a slight slap across her cheek, but it did the trick. Her eyes drew back open.
“What did they know?” Candice repeated.
“What I done,” Loretta stammered. Anger was beginning to build up in her throat and her eyes grew visibly bloodshot. “What happened to Taylor. The corridor, it just… it just started to fall away and then there she was looking at me with hate in her eyes and then it was like she was saying I wasn’t welcome… then it was happening again and it didn’t matter which way I turned. Jesus fucking Christ what did you do to me?” The anger was even stronger now but the shot in her arm kept her eyes heavy. “He was there, just like before, doin’ bad things to Taylor and smiling back at me like the fucking animal he is. I can’t… I just want to go back to my cell…”
Candice watched quietly as the anxiety and anger finally dissolved from her face. Her head fell forward and a small stream of saliva stretched down from her chin ready to land onto her chest. There was no point, she figured, waking her up again. Not for the moment anyway. Later, when the shock had worn off a little more, there would be more questions. For now she might as well let her retreat into a chemical interlude.
She rose from her seat, stretched her legs and back then stepped across to the long table where she grabbed a small red folder. Not wanting to sit back down just yet she made her way to the blackened mirror, leaned against the cool surface with the weight of her shoulder and began reading through the documents that had arrived earlier that morning. Of course the temptation had been there to glance at the contents before the session, but the integrity of the experiment demanded discipline and, after all, it had been her idea to alter the subject demographic. Loretta, currently unconscious and drooling on herself, couldn’t possibly know how important her fear was. With a slightly shaking finger Candice brushed away the hair that had fallen across her eye and delved into the report.
Loretta Audrey Wing. Thirty six years of age. Currently incarcerated for a term of twenty four years with the possibility for parole at nineteen years. Candice quickly did the math and determined any sliver of a chance at freedom was still sixteen and a half years away, then realized with a twist in her stomach that looking that far ahead just didn’t make sense anymore. She pushed the thought away and continued reading.
The cops had smashed their way into her apartment on an early Tuesday morning, discovering a text book display of filth and neglect that was reserved for the hovels of junkies who worshipped the sting of the needle and found comfort only in the ever growing shadow that was cast with the promise of death. According to the arrest report Loretta was found slumped in chair in the corner of the room, naked but for a stained and torn singlet. She was so oblivious to the noise of the entry, the report stated, that she’d looked up to the officers with a syringe still pushed deep into the crevice of her thigh and mumbled a string of words that didn’t make sense. What was on the other side of the room, however, was absolute testament to the depravity of malfunctioning humans.
The body of Taylor Wing was found in a somewhat twisted foetal position on the filthy carpet with one of her arms bent at an angle that shouldn’t have been possible. She too had been naked, with the officer’s report confirming that visible bruises littered her back and area behind her knees as though something had pushed down with excessive force. Blood had leaked from her nose and left a small pool that was now sticking to the side of her cheek. Birth records later confirmed she was just nine years old.
Candice lowered the file and looked across at her sleeping subject who for the moment appeared almost peaceful. She had made a point of not knowing anything about her before arranging the lab session, and the initial meeting had left her wondering if someone like Loretta even belonged in a prison. She’d seemed so fragile, so incapable of anything warranting a maximum security sentence. Now it was becoming increasingly evident that it was in fact a monster slumped in the chair, and it wouldn’t be long before the drugs wore off.
Although she’d showered earlier that morning, Candice suddenly found herself feeling very dirty. With a mixture of hesitation and repulsion she looked back down to the file and delved a little further.
The autopsy report had confirmed that Taylor had died as a result of acute strangulation, evident by accompanying photos of fading blue finger marks across her young neck. At the initial interview Loretta had desperately claimed she’d found her like that and didn’t know what to do. She’d pleaded with the interrogator to understand she was messed up, was in total shock and that’s why they’d found her in the process of getting high. But as the room had begun to close in with withdrawal pains promising eventual agony, the truth began to break through.
Candice realised she’d been holding her breath and slowly drew in air, shifting her weight so that her back leaned again
st the mirror and forcing her hands steady. The transcript of the conversation implied a broken, detached woman who’d explained the situation as though it were a logical progression of simple incidents.
She had ran out of dope Monday morning. The next couple of hours she’d turned a few tricks then headed to her connect. He wasn’t there, so she had to try someone else. That someone else had decided a different transaction was in order and had beaten her to the ground to relieve her of the cash. With a freshly busted face, turning more tricks wasn’t an option. She’d returned to the apartment. Her daughter was autistic and hadn’t been to school at all that year. Child protection services had already come multiple times but she’d refused to open the door. A court order had just been granted to take Taylor away, so Loretta knew they’d be back any day. She was going to try to get cleaned up, was going to see if she could change things, but by the afternoon the dope sickness was beginning to light up her nervous system. By the evening, her biology had become hell.
Absolute desperation to stop her insides from tearing her apart meant she’d called a connect that anyone who chased a nod knew was a last resort, a proverbial deal with the devil. He’d come to the apartment. Loretta was a mess of cramps and sweat. He went by the name Big Cat, she said, because he always stalked the weak. He’d flashed a beautiful, fluffy bag of China white that promised instant bliss. Didn’t want her though. He’d wanted Taylor. Loretta was sick. Real sick. Her brain wasn’t thinking right. She took the powder, he pushed her daughter to the floor. She didn’t know he was gonna kill her. How was she supposed to know he was gonna snap like a rapid animal? And anyway, there was nothing she could do. She’d pawned the gun that was usually strapped beneath the chair just days before. The way she’d figured things, she was just as much a victim as Taylor.
The Hallucigenia Project Page 18