Part 2, Chapter 3:

John was walking again, although still with a cane. Zack walked with him, Rudy and Bob close by, while his nurses had some time off. He was always escorted by guards now, rather than nurses, even though the male nurses were soldiers too. All of his personal guards had been MPs, most of them with the rank of sergeant, and none of them, they thought, were likely to be defeated if the subject tried to fight. But John took his escort of large men for granted, and had a knowledge somewhere within him, that they could be friends.

Zack walked on his left, where he could steady him when he staggered. John was walking alongside the Administration Building, studying it. Sometimes it was clear, and sometimes it was a featureless blur. He came to the imposing main entrance and turned to look at it. "That's Staff Only," said Zack. Lots of places were Staff Only. It annoyed John.

"Who's the boss here?" he abruptly asked of Zack.

"Well, I am," said Zack, misunderstanding. "You have to do what I say." He sometimes thought that John didn't quite understand that.

But John said, "I mean the overall boss - who's in charge?"

"Colonel Mark Bedville is in charge," Zack calmly replied.

"I'm going to see him," announced John, and started toward the steps.

"John, wait," said Zack. John ignored him. "You can't go in there," said Zack. He was reluctant to physically intervene, as John was still so thin and weak, and he didn't want him fighting. He put his hand on his arm, gently restraining.

John said firmly, "A prisoner has a right to know why he's a prisoner. I'm going to see the boss."

Zack hesitated, now holding tighter to his determined charge. "We'll ask," he said, and he guided John toward another man, whom John suddenly saw, because Zack was looking at him. Zack saluted and put the request.

The lieutenant looked curiously at the subject, who glanced at him, then looked back at the large building, cocking his head slightly, and extending his senses. Many people were in there. But he wanted to see the boss.

Within five minutes, they had their answer. The Colonel would see John in half an hour.

John sat down on the steps and waited. He had nothing better to do right now. There were already cameras in most of the corridors of the building, just in case they were needed. Now they were activated, set into play by a technician who hurried through the enclosed corridor that connected from the even larger building that housed Ward 3. Three cameras were rigged to cover the Colonel's large office. The message came back as soon as everything was prepared. It had only taken twenty minutes.

John stumbled as he rose, misjudging the steps. Zack grabbed his arm and was calmly thanked. Zack grinned to himself. John didn't treat him as if he was an enemy, but as if he was an equal, taking it entirely for granted when he was helped.

Colonel Mark Bedville was fifty. He was a tall, rangy man, with a searching expression. His hair was sparse, but carefully groomed, his uniform immaculate. John's casual attire, his apparent youth, his long hair held back in a ponytail, and above all, his scruffy beard and half starved appearance, did not appear to measure up. But he nodded when the Colonel introduced himself, and said, "Hello, Mark."

The Colonel blinked. So did John's three guards, ranged at his back. No-one called Colonel Bedville 'Mark,' except, presumably, his wife. But Mark greeted John amiably, and invited him to sit down. There was a knock at the door and a young soldier brought in coffee and a tray with plates of sandwiches and cakes.

John smiled at the young man, who was looking acutely anxious. But John invariably liked anyone who brought him food, and it appeared that the Colonel had a sweet tooth.

The Colonel spoke about the hot summer weather, and asked John what the climate was like in his part of the country. John looked surprised and said that he had no part of the country.

Mark smiled at him pleasantly. "What's your real name?"

John looked away. He knew now that John Doe was just a convenient name for an unknown hospital patient. Zack was suddenly acutely sorry for him. He was sick, he'd lost his past, and he was a prisoner.

But John only took another sandwich, rose and leaned against the wall, and coolly looked at the middle-aged man in front of him. "I want to know why I'm a prisoner," he stated. "I have a right to know."

Mark looked at him assessingly. "Very well, I'll show you."

He had it ready, that piece of film that he'd watched many times. And now he watched it again, as did Zack, and Rudy behind him. Bob was close to the Colonel, and to him, it was not in view. But John saw, and saw clearly. He frowned and looked closer. "Run it again," he said, his tone one of casual command.

Mark was surprised again, but ran it again, and a third time.

John finally turned back to Mark, and spoke in a tone of polite incredulity, "And this is why I'm a prisoner, someone's idea of an April Fool's Day joke?"

Mark gaped, and checked the date. It had been filmed on the first of April. Could it have been an April Fool's Day Joke? But he remembered, there were witnesses, four at the public hospital, and two in the room with him at the time, plus observers behind the see-through wall. Also film from other cameras, though they didn't show it as well.

He regained his composure, and now spoke in a tone of authority. "You have shown a power that we do not understand. This is why you will never be released."

John's expression didn't change, but his voice quivered slightly, "I will never be released?"

The Colonel spoke gravely. "You cannot be released. We don't understand what happened. You will never be allowed back into the community when you have an ability that could be dangerous."

John felt his total conviction. The man meant what he said.

There was a long silence. John still leaned against the wall. His face was cold, expressionless. At last he spoke. "This place, surely it's not just for me!"

Mark nodded, and half smiled, "Just for you."

"It must be incredibly expensive. What happens if there's a budget cut and the place is closed down? Would I be released then?"

The Colonel's voice left no room for doubt. "You will never be released."

John nodded. "Thank you for telling me." He turned his back and left. Zack said nothing as he headed back toward his room.

His nurses greeted him. John regarded them and said that he was no longer sick, did not need nurses, and that they should leave him alone for a while.

Zack nodded. "Leave him alone for a while." He wouldn't really be alone, they'd be watching from the next room.

They watched for a long half hour, as John sat in a chair, head lowered, and was still. He would never be released. He looked up, straight at Isaac, who was watching behind the wall. Isaac knew the situation. Mark was there, too, standing at the back of the room.

John rose. He hated that wall. He knew there were people there, watching, watching, all the time. There was an IV stand in the room, which still looked exactly like a hospital room. John picked it up, went to where an observer peered at him from too close, and suddenly crashed the weapon into the wall, making the watcher jump back with a startled cry. John smiled.

Then, methodically, he started hitting the wall, working along the walls, searching for weaknesses. But the wall was bulletproof, and no IV stand was going to break it, no matter with what determination it was wielded.

He then turned to the rest of the room.

"Stop him?" one of the soldiers asked the Colonel.

Colonel Bedville shook his head. "Let him alone." And they only watched as John methodically destroyed everything in that room that could be destroyed. He turned his attention to the adjoining bathroom, shattering the mirror, but managing only to crack the toughened glass of the shower cubicle.

He returned to the main room, peered suddenly at where a camera was, and hit it, precisely, with his fist. The man who'd been watching the film as it happened, flinched and recoiled.

John was swaying with fatigue, but tried the external door, surprised to find it not locked. He was reeling and staggering as he left the room, depending heavily on his cane. His three guards merely followed at a distance. John went to his favourite tree, looked up at the branches where he wanted to be, but instead sat below it and stared into the distance. There was no place private enough even to cry.

Zack, Rudy, and Bob kept an eye on him, but left him alone to brood. Zack felt the vibration of the zoster he carried in his chest pocket, and spoke to Isaac. John was to be left alone, but preferably taken for lunch when he was ready. Repairs were being undertaken in his room, and he was to be taken to the staff dining room as a temporary measure. Isaac didn't really want him missing meals, but thought he might well be too upset to eat.

But John was only staring into the distance, not fully realising himself how close he was to collapse. He didn't have the strength for tantrums, and after a while, he lay down and slept, until Zack gently shook him, asking if he wanted lunch. John looked at him blearily before pulling himself to his feet, Zack's steadying hand under his elbow.

There was another large building, 'Staff Only' again, where the soldiers ate, where most of them slept, and where there were some recreation facilities provided. Isaac had a secondary office there, as well, where he saw any of the staff who needed medical attention. John was not his only duty, though it was the primary one. More facilities were being organised, as security could be compromised if staff had ties outside the base. Another building was going up, more accommodation for soldiers. There had been some changes over the last month, and now there were hardly any who were married, except some of the officers and a few of the specialists.

The few soldiers having a late lunch stared at the subject curiously as John came in, accompanied by three guards. He was of only average height, very thin, and Zack was helping him again as he swayed unsteadily. It was a cafeteria arrangement, and he smiled at the pretty woman who doled out an excellent meal.

"I thought I might be on bread and water," he said to Zack and Bob who were eating with him, though Rudy had taken position near the door.

"I wouldn't go making a habit of destroying things," Zack said, "But I've heard no plans to punish at this stage."

John shrugged. He was a lab rat, he supposed, and people didn't punish lab rats, they only noted down their interesting behaviours.

When he finished his meal, he said to Zack, "Isaac said to ask you if I had requests. I would like a proper bedroom please, where no-one watches, and where there's no cameras, and I'd like a window."

Zack hadn't known that he knew about the cameras that surrounded him, but only said that he'd speak to the Colonel. He thought it a perfectly reasonable request. He'd go mad himself, he thought, if he found himself under constant surveillance. He was looking forward to seeing the film of John destroying 'Ward 3.'

Isaac came in and joined them at the table. "Feeling better?" he asked John.

John said calmly, as he stood, "Maybe I'd best just have another dessert." He introduced himself to the woman that time, and smiled at her beguilingly, "Please, Sylvia," and she went to the trouble of getting him another dessert, although all the food had been put away.

Isaac watched approvingly. The man was too thin. There was a new feature in Ward 3 now, John's weight would be automatically monitored every day as he walked through the door.

Two weeks later, John was told that he'd be put back into Ward 3 if he became sick again, but they showed him to a small suite of rooms, sitting room, bedroom, and bathroom. There was only one entrance from the corridor, which opened to the sitting room. No-one watched the action on camera as it happened, as Isaac suspected that he could sense the presence of the cameras when they did that. But he knew his half blind patient would be unlikely to see the tiny lenses of cameras that peered at him from a dozen different angles.

John was delighted with his quarters, and showed his pleasure. The sitting room was spacious and comfortably furnished. It had a collection of music, and a player, and equipment to show films, a selected assortment arranged ready for his use. 'The Great Escape' was not among them. He went to look out of the window, suddenly seeing clearly as Zack joined him. There was a large tree, and a garden bed being worked on by a gardener. He may have been a prisoner for life, but he was to be very well treated, it seemed.

"The windows are barred, and of toughened glass besides," said Zack, in a matter-of-fact tone. "You'll be locked in every night, but you'll be alone. If you need something, the buzzer is next to the door."

John looked, went across to the door, but didn't find the clearly marked buzzer until Zack touched it, and he put his hand to it, too.

Zack continued. "Breakfast will be brought to you at seven in the morning, and you'll be released at eight, unless we need you for anything. Other meals will be at noon, and at seven. There are coffee making facilities in the sitting room, as well as packets of biscuits, etcetera, and you can come and go freely during the day provided that you behave. Colonel Bedville asks especially that you cooperate with your doctor when he does his tests."

John looked around him with satisfaction, and smiled at Zack. "This is much better. Thank you."

Zack smiled back. It appeared that the subject was reconciled to being a prisoner, and after all, it was an easy and comfortable life. But still, business like, he explained the procedure when someone was coming into his room, a place near the far wall where he should stand and wait. "They can check from the corridor, of course," said Zack, still in a business-like tone, as if it was perfectly normal that a sick and half blind man should be treated as a potentially dangerous prisoner.

Zack said, "By the way, there's an electric shaver in the bathroom."

John gave a smile of delight, "A shaver?" But he was puzzled when it was pointed out. It seemed he was unfamiliar with electric shavers, and even when Zack demonstrated, he shaved awkwardly, feeling his face, unable to see well enough in the mirror. But afterwards, he was clean-shaven finally, and only had a few very small whiskery patches left. And his eyes were merry when he turned back to Zack, who still waited in the room, though the others were now just outside his door. "Much better!" he declared happily, and Zack clapped him on the shoulder.

The light in John's bedroom was remotely operated, and he was never in darkness, the light at night only lowered somewhat, though there was a switch to make it brighter again if he wanted. In all his remembered life, he had never slept in darkness. He never queried his lack of choice.

John wasn't a fool. He could be friends with his guards, but they were his gaolers, and they knew their duty. Zack and the rest carried stunners, batons and even handguns. And if necessary, they would not have the slightest hesitation in using them. They were professional soldiers. But until they were in conflict, they could be friends.

**x**

Over the next weeks, John walked further, and explored the grounds. He seemed cheerful, and was easy with his personal guards. They thought their job was turning out more pleasant than they'd expected.

The Colonel watched some film with Isaac one day, an edited collection that showed John's introduction to the new bedroom, and clips of him relating to his guards, and to Isaac. John still refused to cooperate in any tests when requested, but it was in a perfectly good humoured fashion. They hadn't attempted to force anything on him. Colonel Bedville made a comment. "I'm surprised he's settled down so well. The way he knocked out Will and destroyed Ward 3 didn't leave me optimistic."

Isaac said, "You forget. He has total amnesia which appears to be permanent. He doesn't know any other home, and as long as we treat him well, I expect he'll remain perfectly contented."

"He seems to be getting a lot stronger."

Isaac nodded. "Weight's improving all the time, and he's walking further and faster each day. The stagger that he used to show is gone, although he still has trembling attacks, maybe related to the fitting he's prone to."

Mark said with satisfaction, "We're learning things about him, too. The strategy of allowing him a reasonable degree of freedom is a good one."

Isaac remarked, "I wish I could get him to do an IQ test, and maybe a personality test. It's clear he's unusual."

Mark looked at him, thinking that they might be able to try a little trickery. There were demands for quicker results in certain quarters, and Mark had watched enough film of the subject that he felt a certain fondness for him. If Colonel Forster was put in charge of him, for instance, John could be treated very differently.

It may have been a relatively pleasant captivity, but John wanted his freedom. He was too well guarded, the fences were too high, even the entry drive now had two guarded gates, only one of which was ever opened at a time. Every day he walked the perimeter, which was now beginning to show a track, as it was a favourite walk of off duty soldiers, as well. He made friends with the dogs first, but soon knew most of the perimeter guards by name. The only conceivable escape would be by taking a hostage, but John recoiled at the idea. In any case, Rick had happened to mention that they had orders to sacrifice any hostage up to and including a general, rather than allow his escape.

He'd found some privacy now, in the treetops. He could see well in the trees, as it seemed they helped him. Even without touching, he could feel within himself where the branches were. He was quick and nimble, a lot more so than his guards realised. They always just stayed around at the foot of the tree that he climbed, knowing he was there from the flash of bright colour high above. But John habitually took his shirt off, left it in his favourite tree, and then leapt to the next tree, and then another and another, ending up a considerable distance from his guards.

He spent hours just watching the gate, waiting for the times when his vision would clear, tolerating the times when he could barely see. He thought nothing of his eccentric vision. It was just the way he'd always been able to see. But security was complete. How on earth could he escape? Just one man, and there were scores of guards. And they were not careless or incompetent guards. From a high perch in a tree, he'd watched them at Physical Training, he'd watched them when they ran obstacle courses, and he'd watched them at rifle practice, which made him shudder somewhat, but he had to know.

The birds of the trees liked him, and he liked to talk to them. It was autumn, and they were no longer nesting. But John never called them from the sky when people watched. He never saw other people talking to birds, and had become very secretive about anything which he thought might be unusual, though he still was sure that the film of the so-called 'shave' some weird joke.

They said he had more privileges because he was being well behaved. But John studied Isaac as he told him that he could use some of the soldiers' facilities whenever his personal guards permitted, the gymnasium, and the swimming pool as soon as it was complete. It was more of the same, a way of Isaac and Mark measuring his fitness and looking for evidence of unusual powers. There were still cameras everywhere. But John was sincerely pleased. Isaac thought he was still too thin, but John thought he was strong, not knowing how far he was from his normal fitness.

Every day then, he added a stint in the gymnasium, his efforts always noted by Isaac. And when the indoor pool was finished, he started swimming every day, too. He knew a lot of the soldiers now, especially those who shared his tastes in exercise. They knew him as a personality, not just as the subject. Except for breakfast, he ate in the staff dining room, and his personal guards only watched from a distance as he joined those he knew, and laughed and joked with them, although there had been some natural awkwardness at the beginning.

It was the soldiers' talk that alerted him to a deprivation he hadn't even noticed. He was never allowed to watch TV or hear the radio. Isaac thought talk of current events might disturb him. He had films to watch, and now sometimes invited a guard or one of the nurses to join him. Only if someone watched with him could he really see what was happening, and he needed to know there was an outside world.

One Sunday, Rudy suggested that he should attend the weekly Church Service that was always held for the soldiers. John agreed, mostly on the basis that it was a good idea to seem settled. But he was soon yawning, fidgeted like a child, and left with relief.

The trees lost their last leaves, and John could no longer hide from his guards. He gave up swinging himself through the trees, as he wanted to preserve that ability for use next summer. The thought that he would still be there next summer made him very restless.

There was one of the perimeter guards whom he'd talk to every morning, as he made his customary circuit of the Compound. The officers had been told to encourage this sort of interaction, and the soldiers were expected to report on the conversation, especially if anything interesting was said. The way the trained attack dogs fawned on the subject was another piece of evidence that he was something different.

John liked Alec, and Alec was lured into talking about his family, and about the everyday doings of the small town he'd grown up in. John couldn't get enough, and listened avidly as Alec talked, John on his side of the high barbed wire topped fence, and Alec on his, Butch usually curled up next to the fence, as close to John as he could get.

The weather was getting colder, and although the large outdoor swimming pool was now finished, no-one ventured in. The heated indoor pool was popular, though. There began to be talk of Christmas plans, and John became more and more restless, no longer able to totally hide his discontent from those who watched. He'd come to realise that he did, after all, have cameras watching in his room, though he didn't know from where they looked. So when his eyes followed the women who worked in the cafeterias, or the few female soldiers, he turned away again. He had no privacy to be with a woman, and he thought that if he came too close, just to talk, it would hurt only more.

The soldiers had a pleasant job. There was only one man to guard, and he was easy to get on with, never threatened anyone, and seemed content to be just where he was. Security was relaxed, though still efficient. John's personal guards were satisfied to know where he was, and didn't stay very close except when he wanted company. There were usually only one or two now.

A female worker wanted to show her new baby to her workmates in the cafeteria, though it was not strictly allowed. John was at lunch, chatting to Kyle and Edward, with whom he'd been swimming. He looked up. Sheila had been heavily pregnant when she left, and now she had a tiny baby in her arms. She was surrounded by cooing workmates, and even some of the soldiers had gone to have a look.

Irresistibly attracted, John rose from the table, took a few steps, and held out his hands, a plea on his face. Sheila hesitated, but then put her baby in his arms. John held the tiny girl with an obvious familiarity, and caressed the soft cheek. He had tears in his eyes. No-one was very worried that he could be dangerous to either Sheila or her baby, his fighting ability having been almost forgotten.

Quite suddenly, he handed back the baby, turned and walked out, striding. His guards were caught inattentive, one having gone to the toilet. John had a long lead. He couldn't leave, of course. There was no alarm, no risk of an escape, the personal guards more to make sure that John didn't hurt himself or anybody else than to prevent escape.

By the time he came to the fence, he'd shed his shoes and socks. He scrambled over the first fence, ignoring the deep wounds from the barbed wire, crossed the intervening strip, only briefly patting Butch as he passed, and was up and over the second fence, ruthless with himself, as more deep scratches hurt him. Alec ran toward him, shouting, too late to use the stun gun.

The orders came just in time, and the electrified fence was no longer lethal when John scrambled over it. He was at the last barrier. Alec called again, and then sent a stream of bullets across his legs. John jerked and his legs dangled uselessly, and still he pulled himself up over the fence and dropped down the other side. He tried to get up and walk, but his wounded legs would not support him. Fallen, he still stretched a hand in the direction he longed to go.

Alec let himself and Butch out, and ran to his friend whom he'd had to shoot. Butch was already there, as John turned himself over onto his back. The pain hit, and John clutched a handful of the dog's thick ruff and buried his face against the strong warm body until it eased.

Butch whimpered, and licked his face. John took a deep breath, and when Alec knelt beside him, distressed, he smiled slightly at him, and apologised for putting him in that position. But then he closed his eyes, and just waited. There was so much blood - from his legs, and from cuts all over his body. Barbed wire was sharp. It was his own fault. He'd lost control, just because he held a baby. But the memory of the tiny face sent a pain through him just as sharp as that of the bullet holes in his legs.

They let Butch go with him when they took him back to Ward 3. Touching the dog seemed to help him cope with the pain. He refused any injection, only saying to Isaac, perfectly calmly, that he was terrified of injections, and would fight if they persisted. Isaac nodded. Silly, silly man, how could he have been such an arrant fool? He had the story now, that holding a baby had so upset him that he'd made the doomed escape attempt. Isaac thought it might instead have been a suicide attempt. It was obvious that his apparent contentment had been either a sham, or short-lived.

Whether he was frightened of drugs or not, he had to be anaesthetised when the bullet wounds were repaired. But he was weak from loss of blood as well as pain and shock, and when Zack and Bob held him down, the initial injection was made quite easily, to Isaac's relief.

The wounds were not as bad as they first looked, one bullet had shattered his right tibia, but the fibula was still intact. His left leg had taken two bullets, but both had gone straight through, one just barely grazing the tibia. The soft tissue, however, was a mess. It wasn't Isaac's area of expertise, and a surgeon was brought in. The repair work was done within the facility, a small, but well equipped operating theatre and X-Ray Department housed within the same block that included Ward 3, and John's living quarters.

When he woke again, much later that night, John turned his head slowly to look through that horrible wall. The man who observed turned his eyes away. It made him nervous when the subject met his eyes, when it was not supposed to be possible.

The IV stand looked a little bent, but a plastic bottle of blood dripped down through the narrow tube. Comprehension dawned, and the needle was yanked out before the nurse could intervene. Isaac just shrugged. It was no good persevering, John was a very stubborn man. And anyway, it might teach him a lesson when he realised how slow his recovery would be if he didn't allow a blood transfusion. It had long been established that his blood group was shared by at least a tenth of the population. He was not unusual in that respect.

***chapter end***