This beach seemed so familiar to her, and yet she could not name its location, with the palm trees in the distance it looked like somewhere in the south pacific. But she didn't care. The warmth of the sun, the sand beneath her bare feet made Deanna feel that this was the best place in the world to be. It was paradise.
And the man in the distance; she knew it was him. She could see him walking towards her at an ever faster pace, an urgency that was equalled only by her own.
By the time he had reached her he had been running and, like her, was out of breath.
‘Deanna.’ Her name a joyful exhalation. He was looking at her, hungrily. In her skimpy shorts and halter T-shirt, she was back to her old self, before the months of confinement that had left her wasted away to a pale skeletal shadow of this beautiful woman.
And Scott had clearly been looking after himself.
There was only one thing that could happen now. They would make love, right here, in this perfect moment.
But, cruelly, he was taken away from her. Again! They had only begun kissing, when he began to fade. His warm gentle touch became no more than the the residue of sand through her fingers and the briny air on her tongue. And what she most hated now: her mattress, in her cell.
How long this had been her reality, she had no real idea. Or, equally, how long she was being observed by the figure in the corner. The figure, possibly a man, was rising to his feet, reacting to her awareness of him. Deanna now doubted his human-ness. It was the face: it kept changing. Getting nearer it was even more apparent – the shifting configuration of his/its features, like they were processing through some photo warping program.
As the creature got to within a metre of her it started speaking in a deranged throaty voice. ‘Jarwabble abbala. Medumation.’ Its face resolving now into something pink and humanoid.
Deanna jumped up from the bed. ‘I don’t understand what the fuck you’re saying!’ Almost shouting those words.
The creature now resembled a man in basic form, a mannequin dressed in a light shirt and dark trousers. It/he started speaking again but in a milder voice. ‘I must administer your medication. Please be still.’ As he spoke Deanna noticed he was now quite distinctly human, he even looked familiar, perhaps one of the doctors.
‘I have had enough medication,’ she protested. ‘You are not even my doctor. I saw your face change. You cannot fool me.’
‘Deanna, you have been having a psychotic episode,’ he said in a now gentle if condescending tone.
‘If I am psychotic it is only because of the drugs you’ve been giving me,’ she annunciated.
‘Deanna, your medication will prevent the hallucinations. You are lapsing because it is wearing off.’
‘Get away from me!’ she screamed. It was then someone else appeared; he was big and unpleasant looking, but possibly human.
She had no choice, no strength to resist, as the hypofuser was pressed against her bare arm.
And then, the fake doctor’s face began to change into a featureless pink blob of flesh. She wanted to shout, or at least scream, but this time nothing came out. A veil was being drawn across her, making her surroundings vague and seeming to recede. But she was not afraid now. Only gladness that this horrible place was going away, and a hope that she would return...
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