The Variant Effect: PAINKILLER (7 page)

They ran past.

A trio of patients staggered out where the
hall turned right. The woman kicked one in the groin and he went
down howling. Borland blasted through the others like a tank.

A deep pain ran around from his chest to his
back.

But the morphine dissolved it as he rumbled
along after the strange woman.

Keep going
.

He felt light-headed then and dropped to a
knee. The jolt caused a spasm of pain to clench his belly and lower
back. Then the morphine haze descended.

Not far
.

This time, though, he had to grind his teeth
against a shadow of the pain—the painkiller unable to handle it
all. He dispelled his companion’s concern with a nod as she looped
a hand under his arm and heaved him to his feet.

He screamed as white-hot agony clenched his
stomach muscles.

“I’m fine,” he gasped, recovering quickly.
“Keep going!”

They hurried along the corridor casting looks
left and right.

“Up here!” she shouted, elbowing another
patient into a wall. He crumpled crying out in pain.

Borland checked his chest for his nametag.
They told him never to remove it. But it wasn’t required during the
operation. Another sharp stab of pain in his gut, and he tumbled
against the wall, dizzy—leaving a great red smear.

“Don’t know my room number,” he said and
coughed as she grabbed his arm and pulled him wheezing along with
her.

“Bastards knew I was coming for you,” she
snarled and then pointed up the hall with her gun—the last door on
the left. “That’ll do for now.”

She reached out and gripped Borland’s
shoulder; steadied him as another spasm of pain brought a sheet of
sweat over his face.

Behind them, down the hall he could hear the
shouting and clamber of pursuit. The noise echoed dully, distorted
by a hollow ringing in his ears. His vision blurred, and another
chill shook him.

The woman whipped through a door pulling a
reeling Borland close on her heels.

Inside it was the exact duplicate of his
room, except there was a man in the first bed. Some old chap was
out cold, asleep with painkillers. He’d already had the
operation.

But they finished his
.

The strange woman shut the door and ran to
the window in the far wall. Checked it, saw that it didn’t
open.

“We’ll make a stand here!” she announced and
then reached out to Borland, pulled him down by the bed beside the
window.

He collapsed against the wall pressing the
wound over his stomach. His lower back was aching now, and his
testicles answered a shift of position with a blast of pain.

What’s happening
?

“Okay...good,” he said, looking down at the
big hole over his navel. He wadded up the lower half of his smock
and pressed it against the opening. “I got to stop this
bleeding.”

“I know,” she said, waddling forward on her
knees to peer around the end of the bed. She grabbed a pillow and
threw it to Borland. He hugged it against his wound.

The old man in the other bed snored.

“I still think I got you in time,” she said
bleakly and then held her own abdomen. Tears sprang into her
eyes.

“All right, I’m Joe Borland,” Borland said
wincing. A spasm shook his gut; the contractions caused a hard
knife of pain to strike deep. “What’s your name?”

“Judy Martin,” she said, glancing quickly to
the door.

Voices were gathering outside. People were
calling and shouting. There were loud
thuds
as other doors
were forced open.

They’re looking for us
.

“Okay Judy,” Borland said, looking down at
his wound. Blood continued to seep out. It wasn’t gushing but...
“I’m going to need a doctor,
soon
, and painkillers.” He
nodded toward the door. A wave of dizziness passed and he slurred,
“So, what’s going on? What do they want?”

She sighted along the gun barrel, trained it
on the door. “Same thing they took from
me
.”

Sweat glazed Borland’s forehead. Pain
throbbed against his hand, pushed through the morphine.

“They got
mine
,” Judy said, finally,
allowing herself to rest against the wall, still aiming at the
door. “But I won’t let them take
your
baby.”

CHAPTER 11

Borland lost track of time pretty quickly.
All he had to mark it with was the growing pain in his guts, and
the sporadic attempts at communication made by hospital staff
and
he assumed, the police.

At first a doctor started talking through the
door.

He said that Judy wasn’t going to be in any
trouble.

He explained: the people she assaulted were
shaken up but they were going to be fine.

And, he said, it was possible the whole thing
was a reaction to the medication.

You’re not in any trouble
.

The doctor described going over her medical
file and finding her anti-depressant medication might have reacted
with the anti-anxiety pills and painkillers she was given. In rare
cases it could cause a psychotic break if she was taking both.

Not that you’re psychotic, Ms.
Martin
.

Was she still taking her medication? Going
cold turkey could have the same effect.

The doctor said there were two things she had
to do to resolve the situation. She had to put the gun down and
come out of the room.

Mr. Cumberland was all right. That was the
old man who was still snoring off his post-op medication. So no
harm, no foul.

And the other thing was: “Judy, we really
have to get Mr. Borland back to the operating room.”

At that point, they’d asked to talk to
Borland, but Judy warned him before he could speak.

“Remember, they’re after your baby,” she said
in a cautioning tone. “They’re tricky so watch what you say.”

Borland nodded and yelled, “I’ve lost a lot
of blood! Not sure how bad things are inside.” Then he nodded,
pressing against his stomach. He pulled his hands away and looked
at the blood, at the hole in his gut. A strained laugh escaped him.
“I’m cut open. This is bad. And the morphine’s wearing off.”

A hard throb had started past the burning
edge of the wound. The cut tissue scorched him, but he felt the
beginnings of deeper injuries, bruising, displacement...

Agony
.

He couldn’t think about it.

Judy went quiet. The doctors tried to get her
to talk.

Time passed.

Borland’s mind drifted...

And then the doctor started on Judy again.
His voice was muffled by the door: “You see Judy, Mr. Borland is
injured. You can see that.”

She looked over at Borland, saw that he was
watching her, and winked.

“And when his morphine wears off, he’s going
to be in excruciating pain,” the doctor explained.

“Pain...” Borland whispered, laughing on
morphine vapors.

“Judy, Mr. Borland is in danger. You don’t
want to hurt him do you?” the voice shouted.

Judy startled Borland by firing a round at
the door. There was a commotion outside as the negotiators fell
back.

Mr. Cumberland snorted, but slept on.

“You’re not going to turn us against each
other!” Judy yelled. “Like you did before.”

Like they did before
?

Another time of pain and deafness
followed.

Things were dark.

And then...

Borland was dizzy and had finally collapsed
with his back against the wall and his legs straight out. He knew
there was a good chance he could overpower Judy if he could get the
drop on her, but the morphine and blood loss were making everything
impossible.

What’s this
?

From his vantage point he saw a bottle of
Listerine protruding from a small gym bag under the bed.

He clawed the bottle out and wept in pain as
he tried to get past the child safety cap. His hands fell to his
sides and he gagged. He had to control some of the pain, make
himself numb enough for something desperate.

He cried out as he pushed down on the cap,
broke the plastic links that kept it safe.

In a single motion, he threw the cap away and
upended the bottle.

It was fresh. A clean taste that burned
all the way down
.

But Borland needed something, and he knew
rummies drank the swill to relieve
their
pain. There was
nothing else he could do. As the morphine peaked, flushed out of
his system by the activity and excitement, he knew there’d be a
struggle to stay conscious.

There was a lot of pain on the way.

He took another drink of Listerine and
gagged.

Borland looked over at Judy where she
crouched by the bed. He lifted a numb left hand and closed it in
the air. The skin felt bloated, like he was wearing a mitten.

You can take her
.

So his plan was to
crank
on Listerine,
get ready to experience the full pain and panic of having his belly
muscles cut open. Then do something violent and reckless that would
likely get him shot.

Perfect
.

His fellow veteran, Captain Hyde, would
recognize the little Borland touches.

Bastard
.

Borland’s vision was off too. The lights were
bright, threw a hazy aura over everything. If he could reach her,
he doubted he could aim and punch her without throwing up, or
having his guts spill out on the floor.

He tried to think how long it would take for
the morphine to wear off completely. What had he heard, some guy,
some old man on the stairs with his belly all taped had said he
slept after the operation for three hours? And then they started
him on simple pain meds... something light; nothing as serious as
morphine, but he was also sutured and stapled shut at the time.

His operation was complete.

Borland’s wasn’t.

They’d just cut all the necessary layers and
then...

The running, and fighting—the damage might
already be done.

Another stab of pain wracked him, brought him
out of his stupor.

He coughed, and the incision over his navel
bulged. A bag of bloody, pale tissue pushed against his hands.

And he almost vomited.

Clean. Fresh. God!

Gagging, to keep his mind off it, he
talked.

“Listen to me...” Borland started, took a
swig of Listerine.
You idiot!

But he couldn’t do it with anger.

“Judy,” he said, wheezing. “They’re here to
help you.”

“They want your baby,” she snarled. “Like
they took mine. Don’t let them fool you.”

“Judy, I don’t have a...” Borland started and
then clamped down on his anger. He grimaced around another pulse
and nauseous twist of his guts. “They can’t take my baby. I’m a
man.” He tried to grin reassuringly, but only managed to bare his
teeth and groan. “I’m a man. You can see that! You god...”
Damn.
Stupid... Temper. Easy
. “Judy, I’m badly hurt here. It’s
nothing to do with a baby.”

“You’re in denial, sweetie.” Judy pursed her
lips and let her eyes slide down over Borland’s belly, surveyed the
bloody mess under his hands. “We’ll get you help.”

“No!” Borland shook his head and he took
another drink of Listerine. A spasm of pain clenched his torso and
he gasped. “I’m a cut open
man
, Judy! Look at me!”

He spread his bloody hands; the raw wound
gaped. A sack of light pink flesh protruded slightly.

“Stay calm. Don’t get down on yourself.” Judy
shook her head and smiled reassuringly. “I know what you’re going
through. You don’t want to believe.”

There was another clamor out in the hall.
Heavy thumping, the big bad SWAT team would be there soon. Borland
closed his eyes against the pain and tried to think of their
protocol.

If Judy weren’t armed, they’d just charge.
With her gun they’d be left with Tasers or stun grenades. Would
they use them knowing Borland’s condition and that there was
another captive in the room? Not likely. The chance of the grenade
landing on an injured civilian was too great. That could start a
fire too.

What would they do?

He coughed again and shivered. His hands were
wet, very wet. He was bleeding again.

Jesus! You don’t have time for
this
.

A new voice shouted through the door.

“Judy,” a woman called. “This is Dr.
Lemington. Do you remember me?”

Judy looked over at Borland, her eyes wide
with terror or fear or anger. His dying eyes were having a hard
time with the subtler points of emotion.

“Who’s that?” he asked her, finally.

“She’s the one who took my baby!” Judy
hissed, squeezing the pistol in her hand.

“Judy,” said Dr. Lemington, “I know you’re
frightened.”

Judy glared at the door.

“And I know you’ve been confused,” Lemington
said, “and I know you’ve been disappointed.” The voice quieted and
then: “I know you’re depressed. That’s why you left the police
force.”

“I left to find my baby!” Judy surged onto
her knees, and fired three shots at the door before she screamed:
“I’m a police officer, I won’t let you do it to anyone else.”

There was quiet for half a second, Mr.
Cumberland snored, and then...

“No, Judy. You
lost
your baby,” the
doctor said nervously, moving back into position. “And they fixed
your hernia here.”

“Hernia!” Judy looked down at her own injured
stomach, pressed her free hand there and fired another shot at the
door. “You’re a liar!”

Borland was trying to focus on her pistol,
trying to think of the number of bullets in the clip, but his mind
was foggy from blood loss and he was wracked with spasms of
pain.

Confused
.

He took a breath and every nerve in his
abdomen fired pain.