by Eve Langlais
Her eyes widened. “That many?”
“A facility such as this requires more staff than you’d think.”
Guards, too, given how many she’d noticed thus far. “How many patients does the clinic serve?”
“That varies. Currently we have almost fifty, but that number can go as high as seventy.”
Becky bounced into the room. “Nice digs. Where’s our stuff so we can unpack?”
“Your luggage will be brought within the next hour while we continue our tour.” Lowry led the way back to the elevators and this time he said, “Supply level.”
Which was pretty self-explanatory. They didn’t actually get their own supplies, but if they had to, there was a guy behind a desk who would dole it out with the proper requisition submitted.
The next level was labs. So many labs with massive viewing windows allowing those who didn’t want to suit up and go through the decontamination process to watch.
Levels four and five were the patient levels. Each level was divided into four wings, each wing with eight patient rooms.
Starting in the morning, Margaret would be handling Level Four, Wing B, whereas Becky got assigned Level Four D. At least they wouldn’t be working together. Margaret might just put the talkative girl in a coma if she didn’t shut up.
“Both wards are under capacity at the moment,” Lowry explained as he gave them a peek inside at a few.
“Are they sleeping?” Becky asked, as it seemed every room they glanced in had a prone figure on a bed.
“Sleeping in a sense. This is our coma unit.”
“So everyone on this floor is in a coma?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“And level five?” she asked.
“Is for recovery.”
“So you expect them all to wake up?”
“That is the hope, but…” Lowry shrugged. “Not everyone reacts to treatment the same way.”
“What kind of treatment are they getting?” Becky asked.
At the query, Lowry smiled and shook his head. “That part is the secret. We’re working on some very advanced medicines and techniques here, which is why we ask for complete confidentiality.”
“So long as it’s working, it doesn’t really matter what you’re doing,” Margaret murmured. Healing was the most important thing.
“Delighted to hear you say that, Miss Henley. You’ll both begin in the morning. Tasks will be noted in the individual patient files.” Which were stored on tablets bolted to the foot of their beds.
“What do we do if one of them wakes up?”
Lowry turned a serious gaze on them. “If they so much as twitch, you are to notify us immediately. There is a red button. Press it and vacate the room.”
“Shouldn’t we stick around in case they wake up with questions?” It would be scary to regain consciousness in a strange place, or so Margaret thought.
“Patients exiting a coma can sometimes exhibit violent outbursts caused by disorientation. We do not want any of our staff injured. We have people trained to handle this.”
As a nurse, wasn’t Margaret one of those people, though?
Entering the elevator, Lowry said, “And that concludes the tour.”
“I thought you said there were six levels.” Becky twirled her hair. “What’s below us?”
“Another patient level. But there’s only one currently being held there, so you won’t have to deal with it.”
“Wouldn’t it make more sense to have that person in one of the empty rooms on levels four and five?” Margaret asked.
“Level six is where we keep those who are a tad more volatile during recovery.” Lowry placed his keycard on the pad and was about to speak when the elevator began to move.
“Um, where is it taking us?” Becky asked. “Is it haunted?”
“More like we took too long to give it a destination and someone else called it.”
The elevator stopped, and the doors opened, revealing a huge number six on the wall. A man in a white coat with a dark complexion stood waiting and smiled upon seeing them. “Hey Gary. We still on for that beer and watching the game tonight?”
“You bet.” Lowry gestured for them to emerge from the elevator. “I’d like you to meet our newest nursing staff additions, Miss Frederickson and Miss Henley. This is Doctor Cerberus.”
“The demon dog from Hell. Cool name,” Becky blurted out.
“Thank you. I think,” the doctor replied, looking somewhat bemused. He appeared about Lowry’s age, the silver at his temples aging him despite his smooth mahogany skin.
“Are you done with him for the day?” Lowry asked, glancing at a closed door into Wing A.
“Quite done. He’s not cooperating at all. I’d even say it’s gotten worse.” Cerberus shook his head.
“Shame,” Lowry remarked and might have said more except the door behind the doctor opened and a man stuck his head out. “Dr. Cerberus. Thank God you’re still here. He’s doing something weird.”
“Weird how, Shane?” asked the doctor as he grabbed the door and opened it wide, giving them a peek of a long hall with a guard standing in it, talking into a walkie.
Eyes shifted to Margaret and Becky. The young man fidgeted and shoved his glasses firmly on his nose. “You have to see.”
“Where is Ivan?” asked Cerberus.
“In the room.”
“You left him alone?”
“Sorry. I was trying to make sure I caught you.”
“Dammit.” Cerberus shoved past the guy, and Lowry stepped forward, his frame keeping the door open. His bulk blocked part of the view, but peeking around his shape, Margaret saw the doctor walking quickly up the hall while the guy who fetched him ran. Shane slapped his hand by a door and wrenched it open, despite Cerberus yelling, “Stop, you idiot.”
But the idiot didn’t listen. Shane stood in the open doorway and uttered a questioning, “Ivan?” followed by a squeak as he disappeared suddenly, hauled into the room. There was much crashing, accompanied by the sound of things breaking. The doctor yelled, “Seal the room. Don’t let him”—a body flew out and hit the wall—“breach it.”
An alarm sounded, and the door in the hall slammed shut. Just in time given something slammed into the portal. Hard.
Lowry barked into the watch on his wrist, “Security to level six.”
Something hurtled against the other side of the door again and again. Despite it being made of steel, it dented in more than one spot.
“What is happening?” Margaret asked in a soft whisper, eyes wide.
“Nothing you need to worry about.”
Which might have been more reassuring had numerous guards not emerged from the elevator she and Becky had abandoned. They jogged down the hall, their boots a thundering cadence to go with the alarm.
“What are they going to do?” Margaret asked, noticing them pulling the guns by their sides.
“Nothing to worry about, ladies. Tour is over. You can head to your quarters now.” Lowry waved them to the elevator, and Becky wasted no time getting in and slapping her card on the reader. “Habitat level,” she said as Lowry continued to watch from the hall.
The banging continued as guards lined up in front of the door, whereas Cerberus stood midway in the hall. She caught of a glimpse of the metal portal buckling and the guards raising their weapons.
Were they seriously going to shoot a patient? The door banged open, and something hurtled into the hall. Something that was hunched and hairy and…snarling?
Then her chance to really grasp what happened disappeared as the elevator doors slid shut.
Becky blew out a breath. “Wow. Am I ever glad we’re working with the coma patients.”
“I wonder what was wrong with him.”
“Probably brain damage. If he was in a coma, then it stands to reason he had head trauma. Could have rattled his mind.” Becky swirled a finger by her temple.
“Do you think they shot him?” Margaret gnawed at her lower lip.
&
nbsp; She expected Becky to laugh and make light of her comment. To her surprise, the girl took on a serious mien. “I think this place isn’t like the hospitals we’re used to.”
That turned out to be an understatement.
Chapter Two
Luke awoke strapped once more to a medical gurney. He’d yet to get used to it despite it being a common occurrence since saying yes to that prick Chimera all those years ago.
The weight at his wrists let him know he wouldn’t be going anywhere. He pulled at the restraints with no result. After his most recent attempt to escape, the tethers were reinforced. All the better to keep him prisoner.
Who knew when Luke agreed to get help he would end up regretting it?
A long sigh heaved from him as he stared at the ceiling. The overhead light was set to dim, enough for those watching to see him. If he could have, he would have flipped them the bird or grabbed his junk and made a kissing noise. Riling his captors was the only enjoyment he got these days. It bugged him to no end that they constantly watched. Took notes. Judged. And mocked.
Mocked his attempts to escape. Made fun of his status.
About the only thing they couldn’t make fun of was his cock size. But a big dick was only a prize when it could be used. His had been gathering dust for a while.
He closed his eyes against the dim lighting. How he missed pure dark. The kind that enveloped you like a blanket and hid the ugliness of the world. Such an ugly, ugly world.
In direct contrast, he also missed sunlight. He’d not earned the right to go outside like some of the other patients. Luke wasn’t a good boy.
“How many times will it take before you realize we’re only trying to help you?” The voice emerged from a speaker, as if Dr. Sphinx would deign to be in the same room. Not since the incident.
“Speaking of help, how is your arm?” Luke broke it when the man thought him unconscious and tried to inject him with some new kind of poison.
“This kind of attitude is why you spend more time asleep than awake,” Sphinx chided.
“Ass-kissing was never my forte.”
“We simply ask that you respect basic rules.”
“How about respecting my right to live free instead of as some kind of guinea pig in your lab?”
“We saved your life.”
The clinic had. Yet that didn’t mean they owned it. Especially since the doctors weren’t content with just healing. They’d healed him many treatments ago. Now…
Now they were playing God.
“Let me go.”
“You know we can’t do that. You know too much, Luke. Our fault, we should have been more careful around you.” But they weren’t. He’d heard everything. Even pretended for a while that he was on their side. Part of their team. Hell, he actually was for a bit until he truly grasped their depravity.
“I won’t tell anyone about your illegal experiments.” Who would believe him? And if he showed them proof? He’d end up strapped to another bed. Or dead with a bullet in his brain.
“You can’t leave. Not yet. You’re not ready. And we’re within our rights to keep you until we deem you fit for society. You signed the papers.”
Because Chimera had fooled him. “I never agreed to this.” He strained at the straps. Never agreed to a prisoner for years with his only crime wanting to be whole again.
“If you controlled your temper—”
Luke roared, the sound more beast than man. “I didn’t have a problem with my temper until you made me a monster.” Not entirely true, then again, the truth wasn’t something they cared about much around here.
“You will remain restrained until we trust that you can behave yourself.”
That day would never come. Especially since he couldn’t fake it. Luke hated Sphinx with a passion. The so-called doctor thought himself above laws and played God with people’s lives.
Some days Luke wondered if he’d have been better dying that day in the desert or resigning himself to a life in a wheelchair. At least then he would have his freedom—and pizza. How he fucking missed pizza.
“One day I will kill you.” It was the one thing that kept him going.
“More like one day you will get on your knees to thank me for making you better than you were.”
Highly unlikely. “So what’s on the agenda today? Gonna suck me dry of blood? Stick needles in my bones?” To draw out his marrow. “Is it hamster treadmill day?” As they tested his stamina and monitored his vitals.
“Given your escapade yesterday? Today you get to do nothing. Same tomorrow. As a matter of fact, I don’t foresee needing you the rest of this week. Enjoy the bed rest.”
The asshole planned to leave him tied to the bed for a week?
The very idea slipped past his nonchalant shield. “You can’t do this.”
“I can and will. Enjoy the break. I know I will.”
“Let me go.” He strained against his tethers.
“No. I think it’s time you understood what it means to truly be a prisoner. With no freedom at all. I’ve been nice up to now. But you…” Dr. Sphinx sighed. “You just can’t behave yourself. So let this be a lesson that your life can be much, much worse.”
“Asshole. You can’t do this,” Luke yelled. “I’ll tell Chimera you’re mistreating his star patient.”
“Chimera won’t do a thing. And neither will your precious Dr. Cerberus. He’s gone, for a few weeks at least. Off securing investors and wowing them with our progress.”
Not good news. At least Cerberus respected the lives of his patients. To Sphinx, Luke and the others like him were just test subjects. He really didn’t care if they lived or died. Or in this case went insane.
“You can’t leave me tied up.” The panic in him built. A beast inside his chest, pushing to get out.
“I can. I will. Think about your behavior. It doesn’t have to be like this.”
“Bastard,” he yelled. He struggled, but it changed nothing. Sphinx kept his word. No one came to release him.
Not that day.
Or the next.
As time passed, hour upon hour, he began to struggle in earnest. Yanking at the straps, cursing, foaming. The rage filling him with bloody thoughts.
The primal need to escape filled him, and he bucked as he roared. And kept roaring, hearing the satisfying sound of metal bending.
Yes. Just a little more. The adrenaline made him strong. The bars on his bed groaned louder.
The hiss of gas couldn’t be ignored, and his lungs filled with the noxious cloud. The drug knocked him out. He awoke strapped to a new bed with even tougher restraints he discovered as he fought to free himself.
The cycle repeated itself, with the only change being the IVs in his body feeding him, draining waste. Making him into nothing.
Less than nothing.
He felt even more invalid now than after his injury.
Which was why he stopped fighting. Stopped everything.
Caring.
Surviving.
He let his body shut down.
Let it end.
Set me free.
Chapter Three
Almost a month here and Margaret was no closer to figuring this place out. While Chimaeram made a specific request to hire nurses, she soon realized they could have employed just about anybody, given she’d not done anything truly medical thus far apart from drawing blood and oral swabs.
The ward she’d been assigned contained eight rooms but only six patients. All in a coma. Four men and two women. Her job? Drawing blood once in the morning then again at night. Ensuring their feeding tubes remained unclogged, their hydrating saline drips remained full. Massaging their bodies to keep their muscles from atrophying. And flipping them to prevent bedsores.
Then there was the less pleasant aspect of changing their bodily waste bags. Bathing them was done with an averted gaze because it felt wrong to denude someone and wash them without permission.
Given their comatose state, she had difficulty understandi
ng why these men and women were kept in separate rooms instead of a ward. It would have made more sense. Then there was the question of, how did their families visit them? In all the time she’d been here, not one had received a visitor. It seemed odd to say the least.
Also odd was the cause of the deep sleep. The patient files she was given access to didn’t mention any accidents or give a viral excuse—nor did it provide names, instead assigning the patients identification numbers. How impersonal.
While a few in her care had the lingering remains of scarring from an injury, two of them didn’t have any kind of marks. So why did they sleep?
Was it even a natural slumber?
These questions led to her wonder what was in the third IV. The one she wasn’t supposed to touch. Yet it intrigued her, especially given the liquid in the clear tube and bag changed color from room to room. A pale glowing green for Patient RP351. Pink for the female patient SC129. Two variations of blue for the next two guys, red for the fourth fellow, and then a black fluid for the last woman.
What kind of medicine did these patients receive? Was it even legal?
She wondered and yet didn’t dare ask. Her contract specifically stated no discussing her employment or what she saw, not even with other staff.
Becky didn’t let the warning deter her. When she joined Margaret outside for one of their rare matching breaks, she tried to talk shop. “I lost one of my patients overnight.”
“I’m sorry. That must be hard.”
The other woman waved a hand. “I don’t mean he died, silly. At least I don’t think he did. But JR”—the name she’d assigned the big, burly dude with short-cropped hair—“was gone when I went in this morning.”
“Perhaps he recovered and was moved to another wing.”
Becky shrugged. “Could be. Although I asked some of the nurses on level five and they said they hadn’t gotten anyone new.”
“Then maybe he was on the helicopter that left last night.” Margaret really wished Becky would stop talking about it. It wasn’t any of their business. She’d signed a contract. She had the balance with four zeroes in her bank account to protect.
“Maybe he left. It is super weird, though. You’d think they’d put him in recovery. You know, to make sure he doesn’t lapse.”