Chapter 9

John found it most embarrassing that he'd thrown up, twice, on his way to the infirmary. Thankfully he'd had the presence of mind to stuff his toothbrush into his pocket before leaving the cell, and he was dying to use it now. He'd never been very good with nausea, the morphine in the hospital had made him sick with it and in a lot of ways it had been one of the hardest parts of his rehabilitation. Waking up from a fifteen month coma, when the last thing you remember was staring at the blackened stump of your right thigh, was bizarre to put it mildly. All the doctors were telling you that you'd been already healed, but your mind told you that you should be in agony. For a long time, John had had pain in a limb that no longer existed as shredded nerve endings sent a barrage of mixed messages to his battered brain and then to top it off, the only thing that took the pain away made him feel wretched in other ways, turning the whole thing into a balancing act as he tried to work out which was the lesser of two evils.

It hadn't just been the leg, in his shell-shocked state laying in that alley, he'd barely been aware of the burning in his lungs from the inhaled bomb residue or of the headache that had been a sign of the swelling that was beginning to press on his brain, the side of his skull cracked from his impact with the cement. Catastrophic organ failure had been the term used by the doctors, although it had been the cerebral oedema that had been the reason for the prolonged stay in the coma. That had left him with migraines that he still suffered now, and somehow the migraines and phantom leg pain had gotten linked, hitting him with a double whammy every time he was too tired or overstressed. For a long time, prescription opiates had been the only thing getting him through the day.

He had a migraine now, whether from stress or withdrawal from the drug he couldn't tell. His head was pounding and his vision was blurred. He was thankful for the near dark as he navigated through the corridors, but even so, the slightest movement made the room spin and his stomach lurch. He needed to get to his destination, and soon, because he couldn't put up with much more of this crap.

He glanced back at Belton, who was nervously shuffling along behind clutching at John's synthetic charger that he'd made the man carry, as soon as he'd realised the guard would be even more useless in a fight than a strung out, hallucinating cripple with a broken hand. It made John wonder how the man had ever passed the physical to get the job in the first place.

When he'd proposed his idea, he'd had a small team, and at least Guerrero had looked capable of holding his own, but then he'd opened his big mouth and suddenly it had become him and the spiteful guard against the whole prison. The panicked guard had completely lost that 'hard man' persona that he'd pretended to have on the day that John had been interred, and was now looking like he'd be a liability rather than an asset. But there were men in there who were out for the guard's blood and so to leave him now would be like sentencing him to death. At least Belton appeared to have comprehended that, from the way he shuffled along closely to the detective, which hopefully would make him eager to follow orders.

The path to the infirmary was windowless and as they turned a corner, leading them further away from the central atrium, the darkness became absolute. From here, they'd have to make their way there by memory. It shouldn't be too difficult, John had never been there, but Belton had said it was straight on, third corridor on the left, followed by second door on the right. He lightly traced the wall with his fingertips, and listened to the sound of their heavy breathing and muted footsteps.

His heart pounded loudly and the blood rushed in his ears. It was like being in a horror movie, and he was convinced that someone would leap out at him at any moment, but instead his foot impacted into something and he stumbled. There was a groan from the floor and then a slurred snarl of "Fuck you," as he realised he'd tripped over someone slumped in the hallway.

"Are you alright man?" He asked, his first thought that someone had been injured and had collapsed on their way to the infirmary. He crouched beside the man and reached out at what he hoped would be shoulder height, but as he leaned his weight forward his shoe crunched against something on the floor and he realised he was standing on a used needle. "Another fucking junkie." He muttered as he stood, shaking his head. He placed a hand on Belton's shoulder and guided the man round the obstruction.

Eventually, they could see a thin sliver of light from under the heavy door to the infirmary. He could feel Belton beside him reach out to open the door, but John grabbed him and made him stop. "Wait!" he hissed angrily. "What's the layout in there?"

"Waiting room big enough for ten seats. Doctors and nurses offices through the door to the left, main ward on the right and through that are two further isolation wards for infectious or dangerous prisoners."

"Locks?"

"Biometrics. Fingerprint access."

"Good. We could be there a while. Bathrooms in the offices?"

"A shared one interconnecting the two."

"Okay," he could hear shouting and laughter from behind the door, it sounded like there were quite a few people in there. "Ignore everything else, just sprint for the doctor's office, get it unlocked, I'll watch your back." Belton nearly went for the door again but John stopped him again, "Hey," he warned. "This thing is not over by a long way, just remember if you screw me, I won't be able to help you the rest of the time."

Belton nodded vigorously. John pushed open the door and then raced across the waiting area towards the offices but they suddenly stopped in their tracks. The reinforced glass window of the nurse's office had been smashed in. There was still an IV pole hanging suspended in the glass that had clearly been used as a weapon. Inside the room was a metal cabinet that had been wrenched open somehow and its contents scattered everywhere. Predictably, all the medication had done.

There was nobody in the waiting area, although it sounded like there was a party happening in the ward. "Wait here." John whispered as he secured his baton into the tied arms of his jumpsuit that were around his waist and then climbed through the window into the room, his feet crunching through the shattered glass on the floor. The first thing he did was go through the bathroom at interconnected the two offices. He opened the door to the doctor's office but a quick glance revealed a large tattooed man fast asleep and snoring on the examination bed. He closed the door as silently as he could and went back to the other room.

After hunting around for a few minutes in the wreckage that had been left by the previous scavengers, John found a moulded plastic support for his hand and wrist. For a second he was surprised to have found one that encased and stabilised his fingers as well, but then figured that injuries from punching things were probably some of the most commonly treated in the small office. He slid it on, biting his lip against the pain it caused, and secured the Velcro as tightly as his swollen hand would allow. As he was about to leave his gaze landed on an orange container of familiar-looking pills. He picked them up and rolled them in his palm, he was right, they were the extra strength narcotics he'd taken when he'd first been released from the hospital. They would take the pain out of his hand, and most likely ease his migraine too, but he'd had a hard time coming off them once before, and he still had no idea what was currently in his system.

He was about to pocket them anyway when there was a shout and his attention was drawn to Belton and the man who had just stumbled into the waiting area. There was a moment when the man looked Belton up and down, taking in the blue shirt and trousers and then swung a fist, connecting with the guard's jaw. The guard staggered back, slipped and fell to the floor, hard. John hadn't been seen yet, it occurred to him that he could duck down behind the window sill but then the prisoner shouted out to his friends in the other room, "Hey, look what I found!", and John knew he couldn't just hide while they beat him to a pulp.

He crawled back through the window and pulled his baton out, swinging it wildly at the man as he stood protectively over Belton, as the man scrambled to his feet. The doors to the wards opened again and two more men came out. Belton had dropped the synthetic limb charger, so John snatched it up, hefting the heavy machinery into his arm and barked, "Run!"

John kicked the nearest man away, causing him to bowl into another one, and then took off, through the double doors into the ward, without waiting to see if Belton was following. He'd figured that there would be more prisoners inside, but his estimation had been way off. It turned out that because the infirmary was the only place with a working electricity supply, a whole load of people had congregated there. His only hope was that he could run the gauntlet of thugs and get to the far end before he was taken down. The whole exercise would be irrelevant though if he didn't have Belton and his fingerprint access. He looked behind him and saw the prison guard, horrified as it dawned on him what they were about to do. Seeing the older man was about to back out, John grasped his collar and shoved him ahead.

They ran in tandem down the length of the room. There were beds laid out on either side, some of them occupied but not all by sick people. In fact, very few looked like they had a need to be there, the others had all just come for the electricity and the free drugs. There was a whoop from one of them as soon as he saw the guard's uniform, John really wished he'd been able to find a jumpsuit for the guy to blend in with. Those who could get out of bed, or those not in a bed at all, started to close in on them. Their way was obstructed by two MXs that had collapsed during the power down and had been left in the middle of the room. John found an extra burst of speed, leapt over the androids and found himself dragging Belton along with him.

He was running so fast that his momentum slammed him shoulder-first into the wall beside the doors to the side rooms. Both had curtains pulled over the toughened glass windows so there was no indication of which one would be best. He shoved Belton at the nearest door and then turned, pressing his back against the wall and swinging and kicking out at the men who tried to come near them. They'd clearly heard of the damage his synthetic leg could do, some of them would have been in the canteen when he'd kicked Vincent, and were wary of getting too close, but one of them picked up a blood pressure monitor and threw it at him. He brought his arms up to shield his face, and the heavy machinery crashed into his forearms causing so much pain that he was temporarily stunned. The lapse in concentration was enough for the crowd to surge forward, but then Belton grabbed his arm and pulled him through the door.

The two men got inside and pushed up against the door to try to get it closed. The prisoners on the other side tried hard to shove their way in, jeering and laughing, joking about what they would do to Belton if they caught him. John braced himself against the wall and kicked viciously at the door with enough force to get it closed. As the lock clicked onto the latch, both men stepped back and breathed a sigh of relief.

They turned, both breathing heavily and looked at the room, only now realising they weren't alone. There was a shirtless, tattooed man in the bed. His mid-section was heavily bandaged and he'd been placed in leather cuffs, tying both his wrists and ankles to the bed. He gazed at them with bloodshot eyes, one of those eyes was severely bruised, and his jaw had been wired shut so it could heal. He'd clearly come off badly in a fight, but also, he was not one to be underestimated, even if he did currently appear to be in no fit state to fight anyone. Stood with him, nervous and with their backs to the far wall, were a male and a female nurse, both dressed in light blue scrubs. The woman was older, perhaps in her fifties, with frazzled dyed hair scraped into a harsh ponytail, the man was younger, still in his twenties, he looked like he'd barely made it out of nursing school. They both looked scared.

"Hey," John held his hands up in a show of surrender, "We're not going to hurt you. We just want somewhere to lay low until all this calms down. My name's John." He was interrupted by a loud crash against the window. He peered round the curtain and saw the glass had spider-web cracks fanning out from an impact point in the lower corner. Something heavy had been thrown at it, he guessed it was the blood pressure monitor, but the glass had stayed intact. "We're okay." He reported to the rest of the room. He turned to inspect the door that they'd just rushed through. It looked sturdy, he deemed it would hold. The ceiling was concrete, like the rest of the building, the ventilation too small to fit through. If the glass window could hold out they'd be safe.

"What's happening out there?" The woman asked.

"Someone's shut off the power and has jammed the MXs. It's chaos out there." John said.

"In the event of a power outage, the outside walls have a failsafe. We're sealed in until they can find a way to take back control of the power grid." Belton explained further.

"So there's no way out, at all?" The younger nurse said, his voice high-pitched with panic.

"Hey, it'll be alright," John said soothingly, "they'll get things back to normal eventually, we'll be safe in here until they do." He purposefully avoided mentioning the weakened window, and the smashed one in the nurse's office. Instead he gestured for Belton to come closer and whispered in his ear. "Listen, I'm still feeling like shit. I need to sleep this off. Keep an eye on that window and wake me if anything happens, we'll take watch in shifts okay?"

"They can fucking fail me if they want, I'm never come back here again. Fuck this for a fucking work placement." The young nurse was muttering. So, not even out of college yet, John surmised, no wonder he was scared. He was too tired and in too much pain to be particularly soothing though, so he ignored him. He horrified the poor boy even further when he found a spare electrical outlet for his charging device and then stripped to his vest and boxers so he could uncouple his leg. The socket came apart with a firm twist and he placed the leg in its charging dock, ignoring the looks he was getting from the others, before bundling up his jumpsuit and using it as a pillow as he lay on the floor. The female nurse didn't miss a beat though and handed him down a spare blanket that had been folded at the bottom of the patient's bed. John accepted it gratefully and within minutes was fast asleep.

He woke again, hours later, with a dry mouth but a reduced headache. He lay perfectly still, his eyes still closed as he listened to the hushed conversation of the guard and two nurses.

"No, he says he's undercover and I think I believe him. Anyway, he's about the only one in here who has helped me so far..."

The woman muttered something that John couldn't make out, but then Belton answered again, "No, I know Maria. I'm sure they're doing everything they can to get us out of here."

They were then interrupted by another loud bang, and a shout from outside the room. It had John leaping upright and snatching his leg off the dock. As he pulled it on and heard it click, a little voice told him, "Charge incomplete." He struggled into his jumpsuit, muffling its next sentence, "Synthetic calibration failed," and tying the arms of it round his waist again. There was another loud bang and the window reverberated under the impact. John leapt clumsily to his feet, finding the baton that he'd stolen from the MX.

"Fie, Fi, Foe, Fum." A deep voice called out in a mockery of the old fairy tale giant. "I smell… pussy." Even without seeing him, John could imagine the leer on the man's face.

"Quick, everyone into the bathroom and lock the door." John hissed, ushering them all through. There was another bang, and this time it was accompanied by the sound of smashing glass, they were getting through. He nearly followed them, but then realised with the effort they were putting in to smashing the window, that they'd be through the bathroom door in no time too. Their only chance was to hope he could fight them off. So he stood his ground, gritted his teeth and got ready to do battle.

Authors Note: So, I've left you on our mid-story cliffhanger. There will be a brief hiatus of a few weeks while real life gets in the way, but I promise I will be back soon. Thanks to everyone who has already let me know what they think, and especially to Devin Bourdain who is awesome and a sweetheart and whose stories you should definitely be reading. Much love x