Chapter 11
Physical therapy translated as torture. The PT was a dude with ropy muscles, glasses and a goatee. He shaved his head and made me do all sorts of exercises to build up my back muscles and to keep my neck from overworking. My ribs protested, my legs were weak but in the end, I got through each session a little stronger than I'd come in. I could walk the length of the side rails and even managed to breathe at the same time. The rubber band exercises were silly, and I told him so; he made me do weights instead. I liked the bike machine and hated the steps. Climbing made pains shoot up into my neck and gave me a headache.
They took off the collar in week three and I could turn my head slowly, and stiffly. If I tried to move it too fast, it locked up and electric shock went through me. I saw so many doctors, techs, and scientists I cringed in my sleep when I heard my door open.
They had moved me off the main floor to one used to house experimental animals, and I was grateful they hadn't stuck me in one of the 8 x 10 cages. It was bad enough I had a 12 x 12 room, locked and barred with only a bathroom door to me in privacy.
My stomach was in a constant state of turmoil, I was developing an ulcer from the stress.
I still hadn't a clue where I was or how I was getting out, didn't know what had happened to my dad's body or the coin. I knew he was gone, I'd felt his strings snap and retreat with a finality that had penetrated even into my coma. I just couldn't face it. I'd lost two sets of parents. I suspected Murphy wasn't looking for me and no one else knew I even existed. It was no wonder I wallowed in self-pity and despair. The staff tiptoed around me. I could have yelled 'BOO!' and the y would all have fled in terror. I guess they were waiting for me to grow a third head or turn green.
Time drifted. I was anchor-less. I'd ask for things to occupy my mind; all they would give me were books, fiction. I devoured everything. I had no contact with the outside, no TV, no Internet, no cell phone. My mind would have stagnated, except for losing myself in the rich fantasy worlds of Hicks, Koontz and King. Didn't give me any escape ideas, though.
I was dozing on my bed with the newest Odd Thomas on my chest when the pneumatic door slid open and the Colonel strode in. He threw a handful of clothes at me, told me to get dressed in a hurry.
I stared at him in confusion. I had no need of clothes, hospital gowns made it easier for their doctors and science quacks to stick me.
"Get dressed. Now," he ordered and I flipped the sheets off, picked up the pile and went through it. Boxers, T-shirt in drab green, cargo pants in desert camouflage and the short-sleeved shirt to match. No name on the pockets. There were tube socks and a pair of summer weight boots with both laces and zippers. A thin belt for the pants.
I pulled the underwear on, under the gown and then the pants before I pulled off the johnny. He stared at my chest, which was still mottled yellowish green from the breaks, black, and blues from surgery. I still had a red scar where both drain tubes had been stitched in.
"You've got a good chest on you," he grunted. "Decent shoulders, biceps. How old are you?"
"15."
"You play any sports?"
"With my dad's SWAT team. Paintball. Motor-cross. Swimming."
"Not basketball, football?"
"Hockey. Ice."
"You any good?"
I stopped tucking my shirt into my waistband. "You trying to make friends or just conversation, Colonel? Or put me at ease before you lower the boom?"
"Put your shoes on. They're waiting."
I stomped my feet in the boots, pulled up the zippers and had to rest to catch my breath.
By that time, several guards were waiting outside my door and escorted us down the hallway.
They made me ride in a wheelchair and I nearly broke my neck whipping it back and forth memorizing everything I could see.
They brought me to an elevator marked Freight and pushed me in backwards. We rode up in silence, and I watched the indicator lights go up 15 floors before they hit ground level and opened into an absolutely humongous concrete warehouse big enough to park ten 747s. I know because I counted them. Also a couple of F17‘s. My eyeballs got big and my ears popped. The noise was bad, engines were idling and it was hot. I could feel the moisture sucked out of me and I found it hard to breathe.
We stood there for five minutes and then an armored Humvee pulled up and dispensed several officers of higher rank than the Colonel and two men dressed in suits. They stared at me as if I was a particularly nasty bug that needed stomping.
"Is this the subject?" The one with the nerdy glasses asked.
"Yes, Sen. Conley," the Colonel shouted. "Let's get loaded, so we don't have to shout."
One of the guards pulled out handcuffs and leg irons and I bolted out of the chair.
"What the hell!" I yelled. "I'm not a convict or a criminal! You're not putting those on me!"
They grabbed me, flipped me around and had me restrained before I could take another breath to scream. Throwing me in the backseat of the Humvee, they chained me to a bolt on the floor. I jerked and succeeded only in making my wrists and ankles sore.
"You fucking bastards! Cock-sucking, assholes! Mother Effing dirt bags!" I went through every curse I could think of, and when 'neavah pangorum gaeddon' came out, I stopped as a red tide filled my gut and rivulets of lightning sparked from my eyes and fingertips. "Holy shit!" I said and in my palm was my coin. I pressed the stone and the Humvee bounced in the air as if kicked by an angry mule, flipped twice and came to rest on its side. It'd tossed us all around like Scrabble tiles in the cup, but me least of all because I was shackled. All I could hear was the groaning of bodies and the stressed moans of metal.
I shook my head, jerked on the chains and saw them melt at the link binding me to the bolt. Scrambling over the seats and bodies, I aimed for the back tailgate and kicked with both feet to see the glass pop out. Sliding feet first, I felt glass shards cut my ribs, but I was too hyped on adrenaline to feel much pain. We hadn't gotten very far, were still inside the terminal and now, hundreds of soldiers and vehicles were headed my way. I looked frantically around for some direction to run to and decided back into the facility was my best bet.
I took three steps and something hit me in the back. My eyes rolled back in my head, and a massive electrical surge went through me. I couldn't move, couldn't breathe and then the switch cut off and I fell to the ground twitching. I saw the long curly cables from a Taser, and felt the metal prongs sticking into my back and then I felt nothing at all.
*******
"Is he conscious yet, Colonel?" The voice was harsh, dry with a soft southern accent.
My head hurt. Every muscle ached. A spot on my back burned. I tried to talk and something was crammed in my mouth. Struggling, a hand forced me back down until I was pressed into carpet on a flat surface. I could hear the humming of tires and smelled dust. Chains rattled.
"He's awake. Fighting," said the dry voice. Hands gripped my nose and sealed it off. I couldn't breathe through my mouth and now my nose. I tried to fight as the red flashes went through my vision and it dwindled to a tunnel.
"Stop, or I'll knock you out," he warned and let go. My nose flared like a wind broke nag as I sucked in as much air as I could. My eyes streamed tears. I lay quietly, my mouth tasting of rubber. It felt as if they had stuffed a rubber ball in there.
"How much further is it to the plane?"
"Another 90 miles to the crash site. We' ll conduct the tests there."
"Is it safe? You made no mention of him having any…weapons."
"We found none on him, Senator. He exhibited no abnormal behavior or phenomenon before. This was as new to us as you," said the Colonel. "I suspect if he can't talk, he can't control it. It only appeared as he said those words."
"Can you control him?"
"Well, Tasers seem to take him down a peg or two. He's had 2 ml of Ativan also. Just enough to keep in this side of mellow. I don't believe we‘ll have any more problems with him."
He pulled up my eyelids and the light hurt. I tried to blink, but all I could do was cry.