The Clinic

by Cate Culpepper

  Brenna’s professional appearance had been partially restored by the white lab coat, but she was almost as pale as Jess felt, and her eyes were bleak with recent tears. “I do this all the time. It’s just nerves.” Brenna scrubbed the back of one hand across her face. “Am I going to have to tie you down to get you to hold still?”

  “I won’t obey you anymore, Bren.”

  Brenna blinked.

  Jess let that news flash sink in. “Do you believe me, about the murders?”

  A dozen replies occurred to Brenna, but when her mouth opened, only the truth emerged. “I don’t know what to believe, anymore.”

  Jess accepted that. Twenty years under this regime was a heavy load to shake off in one week. “I hope you’re as strong as I think you are.” She lifted her chin toward the door. “You need to get home.”

  “What?”

  “You should have left at least an hour ago. You’re being blackmailed. It’s best to keep up appearances until you know what to do. Right?”

  “Right.” Brenna walked around the restrainer and tossed the folded cloth in the sink. “Listen. Two things.” She rested her hand on the porcelain and turned to Jess. “I’ve decided…I do want to help you, if I can. I feel some responsibility in this. But I’ve got to protect myself, too, Jesstin. To do that, I have to at least pretend to cooperate with Caster.”

  “Agreed.” Jess leaned forward and rested her elbows gingerly on her knees. “Second?”

  “Second.” Brenna’s throat moved as she swallowed. “I don’t want you to touch me again, without my permission.”

  The light in Jess’s eyes dimmed. “All right, Bren.”

  Brenna looked at her. Jess’s face glistened with sweat, and she was trembling. Then Jess smiled at her reassuringly, and Brenna felt tears threaten again.

  “Go home,” Jess said gently. “And don’t drink, Brenna.”

  She said nothing for a moment, then went back to the restrainer. “Will you be able to sleep?”

  “Sure.” Jess made a deliberate effort to relax her shoulders.

  “Lie down first, please.” Brenna smiled crookedly. “That’s not an order, but it’s sound medical advice.” Her hand hovered above Jess’s forearm. “Try to rest, Jesstin.”

  “You too.”

  Brenna clicked off the overhead light and felt her way to the door of the cell. Then she went through it and locked the prisoner in for the night.

  Chapter Five

  The cold of the cell’s cement floor bled through Jess’s black linen trousers. She sat with her long legs crossed, braced against the cinder block. She rested her back against the wall briefly, then winced and lifted it. The meager breakfast tray had come and gone an hour ago. They would come for her soon.

  She had prayed, on and off, since dawn. Or as best as she could gauge sunrise behind stone walls. Cold concrete was a poor substitute for the mountain meadows Jess preferred for prayer, but the floor was better than the restraining chair. Its padded length might be more comfortable, but she couldn’t speak to her goddesses on a device used to confine her.

  Jess figured Gaia wasn’t particular about posture anyway. She’d never seen Shann kneel when she prayed. Shann tended to wave her arms around and yell a lot when she communed with her Mothers, stalking up and down the rows of Tristaine’s gardens, her preferred chapel. Jess had always taken a similar conversational approach with her own deities.

  This young woman was raised in the bleak void of the City, she reminded them. Please, my Mothers, give her the courage to escape these spiritual butchers with her soul intact. She touches me…don’t let me be the reason she loses her way. And your daughters, Camryn and Kyla. Keep them safe too. If you ask me, you owe Tristaine. For Dyan and for Lauren. Cherish your children now.

  Jess heard the electronic hum that released the lock of her cell door, and she battled a brief wave of dizziness as she got to her feet. She closed her eyes again for a last petition.

  Guide us home by your path, and make us strong.

  *

  “Stuart, roll film!”

  Jess was blinded at first by the stage lighting Stuart had erected to shine on the entrance to the gymnasium. She walked into a silver glare and immediately loosened her body until her eyes adjusted. Anything could fly straight at her and she wouldn’t see it. She had to be ready to move.

  Her vision cleared soon enough. Though Stuart’s camera was pointed toward Jess, fully half of the echoing gym had been brightened by floodlights. She saw Caster regarding her from a far wall, smiling, her hands folded over her clipboard. Her slender wrist bore a shiny new watch. She stood next to the two upright posts.

  Brenna stood between them, her spread arms cuffed high enough to stretch her to full height. She was naked to the waist. Fear emanated from her in waves, but her voice was clear and sharp.

  “Don’t move, Jesstin. You stay there. Are you listening to me?”

  “Keep filming, Stuart,” Caster urged. She watched Jess with bright interest.

  Jess walked past Dugan, the only Clinic staff in the gymnasium besides Stuart and Caster, as if his rifle didn’t exist. Part of her registered that Karney was not present. Perhaps he felt Caster’s bonus wasn’t sweet enough to cover this.

  After that first sickening blast of adrenaline, Jess was calm, and her body reflected it. She stopped when Caster indicated, by clearing her throat, that she’d come as close to Brenna as would be allowed.

  “Caster.” Brenna spoke without deference or pleading. “Let me talk to her. Privately.”

  Caster pursed her lips, looking from Jess to Brenna. She did toss a quick glance at Dugan to make sure the big orderly and his rifle were close, then returned to savoring her reply to Brenna’s request.

  “I don’t think so, Brenna. Not right now. All Jesstin needs to hear, at this juncture, is that your participation in today’s protocol is not entirely coerced.”

  Jess was careful to show no reaction, but her stomach clenched. She stood twenty feet from the bound woman, studied her eyes, and knew Caster was telling the truth. Brenna had agreed to this.

  “Why?” she asked her.

  The merciless light on her exposed breasts was an inescapable horror, but Brenna’s voice was level. “All right. I’m thinking two things. First, you can’t take any more of this, Jess. You’ve had enough. You’ve been beaten for weeks.”

  “Second?”

  “Stuart? You can cut for now.” Caster strolled in front of Brenna, flicking another glance at Dugan’s rifle for reassurance. “Please, ladies, there’s no need to string this out. Allow me to summarize.”

  Caster nodded. “Brenna and I struck a deal this morning, Jesstin, before you joined us. Brenna has agreed to participate in today’s new protocol. And after today, she walks. She’ll be allowed to resign. She can limp off quietly and work in some destitute ghetto infirmary somewhere, with my blessings. Are you following so far?”

  As far as Jess was concerned, she and Brenna were alone in the gym. “Tell me your second thought, Bren.”

  “Second.” Brenna’s hands gripped the narrow chains binding them to the posts. “Second is, I’m not willing to go to Prison. But I’m not willing to hurt you any more either, Jess. I’m a medic. I…that’s all I ever wanted to be.”

  Now Brenna did plead and she saw Jess’s gaze soften. “So just do it. Whatever you have to do, whatever she says. If we can get through this, she’ll let me resign, and you won’t be hurt again. I made her promise that. Jesstin, a few days of pain are worth it to me.”

  She searched Jess’s face, the tension in her arms matching the strain on her frayed nerves. A shield had dropped across Jess’s features. She couldn’t read her now.

  “I’m supposed to whip you, then?” Jess asked Brenna, pleasantly.

  “That’s right,” Caster confirmed. “Jesstin, I’m going to move to the table over there, to get you your whip. Please mind Mr. Dugan’s rifle, yes?”

  Jess stood still as Caster stepped gingerly past her.
Her thought process was poleaxed. She prayed it would cough up a clue soon, and hoped her relaxed facade was convincing, because she was stumped. She had no idea what to do.

  Caster retrieved the bullwhip from the box beneath the table. “You Amazons are probably adept with these things. Jesstin, would you join me, please?” She caressed the coils of the whip affectionately. “This tape will probably be the one featured in the documentary, so look lively, please.”

  Dugan trained his scope briefly on the swell of Brenna’s left thigh. He squinted to the side to check Jess as she moved toward the table, then focused on the cuffed blonde again. He could do it, he decided. He could pull the trigger. On either of them.

  Caster waited until Jess reached her, then handed her the bullwhip. Then she bent beneath the table again and pulled out a cylinder the size of a cheap flashlight. She switched it on, and the device engaged with a muted buzzing sound.

  She looked up at Stuart. “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen.” Her clarion tones rang sweetly through the gym.

  “This date marks the opening of the second clinical trial of Study T-714, already referenced in the previous clip. Please consult my addendum to our prospectus, faxed to each of you this date. As I summarized therein, we have already established in our first trial that our subject, Jesstin of Tristaine, will not capitulate under sustained physical duress.”

  Jess studied the coiled whip in her hands, then studied Brenna through the glaring light. She stood quietly between the uprights with her head lowered, but she wasn’t trembling now. Jess noticed Brenna’s breathing, its deliberate pace and slow rhythm. She followed her example and began to prepare herself.

  “Several days ago, I instructed my associate, our study’s medical advocate, to initiate a sexual relationship with our subject, here.” Caster smiled, as if to accommodate the expected gasps of her audience. “All right, true. Unconventional means! But that’s why you contracted with the Clinic, yes? For the creative, cutting edge only we can bring to Military research?”

  She nodded at Stuart, who panned back to include Brenna, suspended between the two posts, in his viewfinder. Stuart focused carefully. He wasn’t looking forward to this trial, but he could still enjoy the image in the frame. He had long nursed a massive crush on Caster’s assistant.

  Caster paused again, politely, to allow any renewed furor in her audience to subside. “I’ll not be so crass as to tell you this is your tax dollars at work, ladies and gentlemen, but please, don’t be concerned. Brenna is fully compliant with our protocol and is being well compensated for her participation.”

  She gestured to Jess with the crackling cylinder. “Jesstin here has developed quite an interpersonal bond with young Brenna. And today, as per my addendum, she will be required to inflict rather severe physical pain on the woman she loves, until she agrees to renounce Tristaine.”

  “Caster.” Jess ignored the camera, and she’d grown accustomed to the stage lighting. She spoke to the other woman intimately, with genuine curiosity. “You know I’ll refuse.”

  The smile remained on Caster’s unlined face. “Well, Jesstin. If you refuse to flog Brenna, I’m afraid I’ll have to ask Mr. Dugan here to trade his rifle for this little toy.” She lifted the buzzing cylinder. “And use it on your amorata, yonder, as he sees fit. It carries rather more of a wallop than our staff’s tame stunners.”

  Jess eyed the device dispassionately.

  Caster switched off the electric prod with a smart click. “Both you and poor Brenna can avoid all this unpleasantness, of course, if you’ll sign this document now.”

  She turned toward Stuart and showed her clipboard to the camera. “A simple statement, ladies and gentlemen. Jesstin’s signature will affirm that she will pay our fair City taxes. Obey City laws. And, in return, receive the bounty of the City’s amenities, as one of its citizens.”

  Brenna strained to hear her response. Caster’s camera-ready words reached her clearly, but she still had no clue as to what Jess was thinking. The white static of fear kept filling her mind.

  Jess nodded, slowly studying the document. “And what will you do with it? This statement.”

  “It’s the act of signing itself that’s the point of the trial, Jesstin.” Caster lowered the clipboard, eager to move on. “It’s symbolic. Now, if you’ve reached a decision—”

  “Yeah, I understand that,” Jess interrupted. “But your goal is to incorporate all of Tristaine, right? Not just recruit me.” She lifted her chin at Dugan. “Is your poodle over there going to fly a helicopter over my village and drop copies of my surrender? Something like that?”

  “Amazon bitch.” Dugan pointed his rifle toward Jess’s heart, then lowered it in frustration. The rifle was partly a bluff, and the prisoner knew it. He would lose his job if he killed her. Caster had instructed him to aim for the legs, and then only if she attacked staff again.

  “Be very careful, Jesstin.” Caster spoke quietly, but the sides of her nostrils flared white. “I would be fully justified in applying this prod to your belly right now.”

  Jess thought about it. “I have to speak to Brenna before I do this.”

  Caster narrowed her eyes. She balanced her desire to proceed with the sheer havoc this big hoodlum could create if this simple request was denied. “Very well, Jesstin. Quickly, please.”

  For a moment, Brenna was dazzled by the sheer theatricality of the backlit image moving across the gym toward her. Jess stopped immediately in front of her, her face shielded with the shadow created by her wide shoulders.

  Jess’s voice was low. “Are you all right, Bren?”

  “I will be.” Brenna’s teeth were chattering. “Jesstin, what are you doing?”

  “Don’t talk, please. Listen to me. Brenna, she’s lying to you. This won’t end until Tristaine is taken. You have to get out of the City.”

  “Jess, you just heard—”

  “Shut up,” Jess said quietly. “You’ll bleed for nothing. She won’t let you resign. This isn’t your fight, Brenna. I can’t let you do this.”

  Brenna started to speak, and Jess lifted a subtle hand to silence her. “Just make me one promise. I have friends on the inside. They’ll come to you. Help them get Kyla and Camryn out. I’m counting on you, Bren.”

  “Who do you think you are, a bloody burning bush?” Nameless panic sluiced through Brenna. “Don’t just spit out orders at me without—Jesstin! Jess!”

  Brenna clenched her teeth. If she hissed any louder, Caster would hear her, and Jess didn’t stop. Her relaxed stride carried her back to the table, the whip coiled easily in one hand.

  Jess focused on Caster’s face as it emerged through the glare of the flood lamps. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the hooded lens of the camera swing slowly, following her progress. She noted Dugan had targeted the big muscle in her right calf.

  “General Lorber, Dr. Aldin, Madam Undersecretary, I think we’re ready to begin.” Caster straightened, imagining the music the public documentarians would use to underscore this delicious tension. She held the electric prod where Jess could see it.

  “Jesstin, you have endured weeks of physical punishment.” Caster was careful to sound somewhat compassionate. “And if my hypothesis is correct, you face even greater anguish today, if you choose to use this whip on one of your…adanin. Will you put an end to this now and sign the statement? Or will you administer the first ten lashes?”

  Not without relish, Jess raised her hand and shot a stinging slap across Caster’s scented cheek. Caster gasped harshly and would have fallen, but Jess hauled her upright and used her to block Dugan’s rifle.

  Dugan cursed and fired a round into the gym’s rafters. The bullet’s progress echoed crazily among the steel beams.

  “Change in protocol.” Jess smiled into Caster’s white face.

  Caster cried out as the silver rod was twisted inexorably out of her grasp. Jess turned the prod into the open collar of her own shirt and pressed it to her chest.

  “Your grandd
aughters will mock your grave, Caster.”

  “Jesstin,” Brenna screamed.

  Jess flicked the rod’s switch. She wouldn’t let go of it, and Caster wasn’t strong enough to break her grip, so the current shot through Jess’s heart muscle in successive bursts.

  Caster screamed for Dugan, who sent one of the floodlights crashing as he launched himself at Jess. He had his rifle twisted through her arms in seconds, and the sparking prod fell with a plank-denting clatter to the floor. Jess fell more slowly.

  Brenna went witless with shock as she saw Jess’s knees buckle. The broken hood of the floodlight rocked crazily, sending twisted shadows over the cavernous room. Her mind had switched to surreal, and the eerie light show made the scene before Brenna even less credible until she heard the flat crack of Jess’s head hitting the hardwood floor.

  Caster regained her composure and barked out orders like Uzi fire. “Stuart, camera off! This tape goes nowhere but in my safe! Stuart! Got that? Dugan, get Brenna down. I need her! Stuart, get a crash cart. Stat, stat!”

  Caster knelt beside the motionless prisoner and heaved her onto her back. Jess’s body turned bonelessly. Caster tore her black shirt open. The deep burn covering Jess’s upper chest was ugly, but her utter stillness frightened Brenna far more.

  “Dugan?” Brenna’s mind mercifully switched channels again, searching the band until it found medic. She watched the big orderly run toward her, his keys jangling, his face brick red. “Dugan, you get here now. Get me out of these. Right now, Dugan.” Her voice was perfectly calm.

  “No respiration, no pulse,” Caster called. She opened Jess’s mouth and bent over her.

  “It’s that key. No, Dugan, the one you just tried. Hurry.”

  Brenna forced herself to stand still until both of her hands were released from the cuffs. She couldn’t help her patient with a broken wrist. Then she ran, shaking her hands hard to restore circulation.