I nodded again.
“A similar principle. The drug high bypasses all those self-imposed safeguards. Of course, it also disables pain receptors, so it’s not uncommon for them to come down and realize they’ve broken several bones in their hands.”
Inside the paper smock, I rolled my abs and shifted my hips and clenched a few female muscles. “So... you’re giving us PCP?” Nothing. Not even a numb spot where they’d given me a local. Just a bit stiff from lack of use.
“No, they tried that before,” he said, crossing his legs. “It didn’t work for the reasons I just mentioned and no one could ever get any definitive results. It also doesn’t solve the real problem. We want to make you superhuman, not dependent on drugs that make you superhuman. You’ve felt jittery these past weeks, haven’t you?”
I had. In fact, this was the first time I hadn’t felt on edge in days. I’d’ve noticed sooner if not for the headache and sore muscles.
“The injections you’ve been getting for the past few weeks have boosted several processes in your body. It’s a compound called GW501516 paired with AICAR, which activates a metabolic—” He paused again and smiled. “I won’t bore you with all the technical terms. Your muscle tissues are developing faster. So are your skin and bone cells, which also means more red blood cells carrying more oxygen.”
I frowned. “Isn’t that the same drug dependency, though, sir?”
“Normally, yes. If we stopped the supplements your body chemistry would go back to normal in a few days. Which brings us back to restraint. What we’ve done is disable those safeguards. If you made a serious effort you’d create new pathways and learn to keep the body in check again. For now, though, you’re going to run at those optimum performance levels. Your mind isn’t going to tell your body to hold back. This is going to be your new normal, so to speak, and we’ve given your body a kick-start so it will change to keep up.”
I drank some more water. My mouth was feeling better and flexing random muscles was helping the stiffness. As far as I could tell all I needed was a couple Advil for the headache and I’d be good to go.
My splitting, painful headache.
It must’ve shown in my eyes, because Sorensen was about to say something and stopped. Monkey-boy took a step back. They were both watching me.
My free hand, the hand that wasn’t chained to the bed, reached up. The back of my head had been shaved. I brushed the wet threads in my scalp and winced. I put a bit of pressure on the raw skin and felt part of my skull shift underneath.
“What did you do?”
“It’s a shock at first, I know,” said Sorensen. “I’m cer—”
“WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY BRAIN?!?”
Looking back on it, I admit I lost it for a minute. Which I think he planned on. I lunged out of the bed. Monkey-boy tried to grab me and I knocked him halfway across the recovery room. I heaved the doctor out of the chair and his glasses fell off.
“What did you do to me?!”
Sorensen was very calm, even though I had his coat wrapped up in my fists. “That’s not the important question, Staff Sergeant Kennedy.”
Name and rank was good. Chilled me down, made me stop. I almost cried, but girls cry. I’m a soldier.
“The important question,” said Sorensen, “is how did you get out of the bed?”
It took a moment to sink in. I looked away from his eyes, down to my wrists. One had a piece of surgical tape and some blood where the IV had torn loose. The other one had a single handcuff with two links of stainless steel chain dangling from it. The last link was twisted apart. I could see a bruise forming where the cuff had bitten into my wrist.
I looked over my shoulder. The hospital bed’s railing was bent a good four inches out of line toward me. The other handcuff swung back and forth in a deep gouge. Its last link was broken and stretched long. It looked more like a thick hook than a piece of chain.
Oh, hell yeah. Look at me now, Dad.
Chapter 8
NOW
“Hey, St. George,” someone called out. “You got a minute now?”
A skinny man trotted toward Roddenberry, waving his hand. St. George settled back down to the ground and swung his jacket over his shoulder. It took a moment to recognize the young man at night. He’d never noticed how few lights there were around the central building and garden. “Cesar, right?”
“Right.” They shook hands. “Look, I really need to... ummmm, confess something.”
“You still haven’t killed anyone, right?”
“No, dude, this is serious.”
“Okay,” he said, “what’s up?”
Cesar glanced around. “Can we walk or something?”
“Why?”
“Just feel kinda nervous standing right here, y’ know? In front of her building? Especially at night.”
St. George felt the corners of his mouth twitch. “Yeah, I know what you mean,” he said. “A walk around the garden work?”