Chapter Twenty-Six
The effects of the Taser wore off after half an hour and I woke up on the floor of the chopper hands and feet tied together like a trussed turkey. My face was smashed into the floor of the bird and between the feet of the agents. I tried to turn my head to look for Rachel but all I could see were boots and shoes, the metal struts that held the seat to the frame of the helicopter and the rudders on which the pilot’s feet rested. I reached out and seized control of the pilot’s brain, cyclic and rudders, forcing the chopper to the left. The pilot yelled and fought back but whatever my mind was doing was stronger than his control of his hands.
I smelled engine exhaust and burning oil as the RPMs increased beyond their normal capacity. The chopper flung itself in the opposite direction and I watched the metal holding the seating stress, melt and loosen. The hatch opened and two of the seats gave way to let those unlucky agents fall out, their screams echoing long after they were gone.
Voices raised in alarm around me. I heard Rachel scream and it shocked me, made my concentration falter. Cameron reached down and grabbed the back of my neck by the hair, slammed my face down twice into the steel floor. I felt my cheekbone shatter and blood poured from my nose and mouth. Sounds became muffled, words wrapped inside a blanket of geometric wool shot with arcs of lightning. I marveled at the intricate design not realizing it was my consciousness splintering.
My next recollections were fragmented and thick with pain. My face hurt. My ribs ached and I couldn’t move. I couldn’t see, either but I felt it when someone deftly inserted a needle into my arm and taped it to my flesh. I felt the flow of cool IV liquids and then a warm sensation that traveled up my arm and into my chest bringing a detached mood that I struggled to resist.
“Don’t fight it, Lakan,” his voice said gently. “It’s Thorazine and a dose strong enough to sedate a horse.”
I opened my eyes and mumbled. “I can’t see!”
“You’re blindfolded. I’m not sure how you took control of the chopper pilot and nearly crashed it but we’re taking no chances with you until we learn how you did it. Visually or mentally, so you will be kept gagged, blinded and sedated until we control you.”
“Rachel?” I asked thickly and waited with a sick feeling for the answer.
“She’s fine. We gave her a dose of Rophynol and made sure she doesn’t remember anything. Dropped her off on the reservation near the police station,” he said and I was still awake enough to know that he was lying.
“Rachel?” I called out that my voice never made it past my lips. I was aware of being moved in a wheelchair, loaded into a small jet and taking off. After that, only bits and pieces made it into my head. The taste of brass in my mouth. My stomach tight and crampy. My mouth so dry that my lips cracked and bled. I had to pee and my bladder hurt. Crinkly noises around my bottom and legs. Cold shivers on my skin. Iodine and antiseptic. Faint pricking on my cheekbones. Droning voices over my head.
Things cleared up sometime later. I had no idea how much time had passed only that it must have been hours or days. I was lying on my back, handcuffed to a hospital bed at wrists and ankles. The room was small with green painted walls and an overhead light; the kind they used in examination rooms and ORs. At my feet was a door with a small wired window. The only thing in the room was me, the bed, an air vent blowing AC and the light. I was wearing an open hospital gown laid over me but not snapped. An IV was in my right arm and to my disgust, I had a urinary catheter in place. I felt horrible. Every muscle ached, even my bones felt as if they were made of brittle plaster of Paris.
My eyes wandered over to the IV poles but someone had thoughtfully placed it behind me where I couldn’t reach it. Thankfully, Cameron had not made good on his threat to blindfold or gag me. The Thorazine running through my system was enough to make keeping any single thought in my head impossible, let alone attempting to plan an escape.
Every time I moved, a machine chimed. My movements were minuscule; I could turn my neck from side to side, bend my knees up two inches and roll my torso about the same. I could lift my ass off the bed but that made my belly ache with what felt like bruises from somebody’s boots. All these efforts left me exhausted so I lay quietly and let my thoughts drift aimlessly.
When the door opened, the man who entered wasn’t Cameron but the long-haired hippie I’d seen in the helicopter. He wore his hair in a ponytail and had a one karat diamond stud in his ear. His clothing, this time, was an expensive three-piece suit that I recognized from association with Hamilton’s aides.
“My grandmother will have you shot,” I said and the words came out slurred and not nearly as frightening as they’d sounded in my head.
“Your grandmother is helpless,” he smiled and his teeth were predatory and very white against his cold gray eyes.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Agent Chase. I’m with the NSA, not Director Hamilton’s CIA.”
“But Dr. Cameron –,” I said and stopped.
“I kidnapped him and convinced him to join the winning team.” He studied me from my toes to my head. “You look whiter than Amerindian. I’ve seen pictures of your mother and father. You do look like Michael Hamilton.”
“Where’s Rachel?”
“She’s safe. As long as you cooperate, she’ll remain safe. Tell me how you did what you did to the chopper and the pilot?” I tried to reach his mind and tweak his brain waves but the anti-psychotic was too strong to overcome. “You’re trying to do something now, aren’t you?” He smiled. Raising his voice, he called for the doctor and Cameron’s came on over an intercom.
“I’m getting some interesting EEG readings, Mr. Chase.”
My stomach cramped and I felt vomit hit the back of my throat but I swallowed it before I could puke. Chase rubbed my throat and it wasn’t because he felt sorry for me but because puking might cause me to aspirate. I might drown in my own vomit.
“You feel sick to your stomach, Lakan?” Cameron’s voice sounded almost as if he was standing next to me. “I can order you Reglan. You’ve been on several different drugs that can upset your stomach.”
“My stomach hurts,” I said through clenched teeth. “Somebody kicked me.”
“Yes, an unfortunate occurrence. One of the agents that fell out of the helicopter was a younger brother of the one left behind. He’s been…reprimanded.”
“Did you check me for ruptures?” I asked and that brought silence. Next thing I saw; Cameron was hurrying into the room pulling a portable X-ray machine with him. Ten minutes later, I was receiving two units of blood and being sedated for emergency surgery. I tried to keep my eyes open as they wheeled me down the hallway. It looked like a hospital corridor with open patient doors but the nurses and medical personnel I saw wore uniforms under white coats. I didn’t hear any announcements and I saw only one other room with a closed door where an armed soldier stood guard.
I mouthed ‘Rachel’, made an intense effort and managed to sit up. I could barely see through the window but enough to recognize Rachel’s black hair as she sat on the bed. She saw me and leaped for the door but then, Chase and Cameron pushed me down where I melted like a boneless fish on a grill. Chase stopped outside the OR doors and Cameron went in.
The room was freezing. I started to shiver and then, my metabolism kicked in turning up my body temp. I heard the surgical team commenting on how I was running a high fever; one adjusted the IV and I sank into a darkness I could not control.
*****
Soft rustlings pierced my dreams. I sat on a rock the size of one of the giant turtles in Central Park. It stood all alone in a primeval forest while below me, the people moved with the seasons. I saw Indian maidens foraging for wild rice and oats, acorns and chicory. Creating slender reed baskets from willow strips and cattails. They worked deer hide with their teeth and softened it into exquisitely tanned and decorated buckskins.
I saw some squaws bought and paid for with many gifts and when the white men came, horses bought their favors. They built their homes in teepees on the winter prairie and moved further north into the great forests where the braves hunted elk and mule deer.
I saw a great warrior fight the white men and was saddened as I recognized Crazy Horse. His way of life would soon end bringing misery, starvation, and alcoholism to the tribes.
I saw a warrior I knew - his name had been Tungasila or Grandfather in Siouan and he wore the garb of a medicine man.
Lakan, he spoke. Boy Who Thinks Too Much. You must be prepared to die to be free. You must escape before these evil men learn all your secrets.
I can’t leave Rachel, I said without speaking.
Nor should you. You may speak with her in your dreams where they cannot go.
The Yellow Realm? Can I escape them there?
The Hunters have your scent and would track you down swiftly, he warned. And you cannot concentrate long enough to hold that door open. Perhaps Rachel Little Bear could do that for a while. Long enough to aid you in an escape.
They cut open my belly, I said. I don’t know if I can walk.
He sneered. The braves in the Sun Ceremony hung from hooks in their flesh for days before they danced themselves free, tearing at their flesh. Are you any less than they?
I swallowed and when I opened my mouth to answer him, he was gone and I was standing in a girl’s bedroom with posters of pop stars, dream catchers and computer CDs everywhere. An easel stood near the window with gauze curtains and there was a painting of a doe and fawn in a field of goldenrod. It was exquisitely detailed and realistic, a real piece of art. Standing in front painting blissfully unaware of me and in pajamas was Rachel. Her hair was down to her waist, her face soft in repose. She was concentrating with her tongue between her lips and a tiny frown between her eyebrows.
“It’s missing something,” she said staring.
“A Hunter,” I spoke and pointed to the corner where the beginnings of a forest were suggested. “Danger lurks even in paradise.”
She did not whirl around startled or afraid that I was behind her. “Lakan.”
“Rachel. Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”
“Is this your dream or mine?” She turned her head to look at me, her dark eyes calm and deep as midnight skies.
“Both, I think. Put a warrior here but have him holding his bow down as if he chose to leave his gift of life for the pair.”
She smiled and swiftly painted in the figure before she laid down her brush and brought me to her bed.