Puzzle 11.22.23
Note: This is part of a work that I'm currently working on that I'd thought would be cool to advertise here. It is humanized. I don't know when it will be finished and released, but here's a teaser.
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Day 1
"Good afternoon, Mr. Guin," the doctor said, walking into his room. He had just settled in that morning and sat by the window, staring absentmindedly outside. "I'm Dr. Karla Schmidt, but you can call me Karla," she said, holding her hand out to him. He hardly acknowledged her presence. She slowly retracted her hand and pulled a chair up next to him, sitting down and putting her clipboard in her lap, pen at the ready. The warrant officer sat across the room, observing.
"So," she continued, "how are you feeling today?"
At first, she didn't think he was going to respond, but after a few moments, his shoulders slowly shrugged. The doctor started making notes on his silence.
"You wanna tell me what happened in Denmark?" I asked.
Mr. Guin finally looked over at her with dark, piercing eyes. For a split second, she tensed up, scared that he would snatch her clipboard and crack it over her head, but he simply just turned his head and continued staring out the window. The doctor relaxed and pressed her lips together and made some more notes.
"Your file tells me that you were on a mission with two men, um –" she flipped to a page in his file – "Manfredi and Johnson. What happened to them?"
The patient didn't move. The doctor took notes on his unkempt hair, about how his fingers twitched slightly in his lap, and on how eerily silent he remained at her questions. He had yet to say a word since he had arrived, which according to his record was very out of character for him. He was extremely intelligent and charismatic, never shied away from leadership roles, and always was the first to volunteer for things.
The doctor cut a glance over at the warrant officer in the corner. His legs were crossed and his expression was indecipherable. His eyes locked on hers for a moment, his lips pursed as if considering something. Mr. Guin still had not responded, as if lost somewhere in his own mind. She just needed to figure out how to unlock it.
"Mr. Guin," the doctor started slowly, "we haven't been able to get in contact with your informant. Do you know what happened to Hans Finn?"
The doctor flinched when Mr. Guin snapped his head around to her suddenly. Where his eyes had been sullen and empty before, they suddenly ignited. With a hysterical yell, he launched himself from his seat and grabbed her collar and pulled her to her feet, causing her to drop her clipboard. He started screaming at her in Danish, and the doctor only caught bits and pieces of it as she stared in shock. The warrant officer hit the panic button and started helping wrench his hands from her collar. A couple of aids rushed in and it took the three of them to pull him free of her, which caused her to stumble backward onto the floor, bringing her chair with her. Her heart pounded as he fought against their grip, still screaming in Danish. Finally, another aid entered the room with a syringe and she pushed it into his neck. After a few seconds, his words became slurred and he relaxed, his body slumping against the three men's grips. She watched speechlessly as the two aids carried him to his bed in the center of the room and laid him down, fixing restraints to his wrists and ankles.
"Are you okay?" the third aid asked the doctor, kneeling down next to her with a hand on her shoulder.
The doctor finally looked away from the patient to the aid next to her. She took a deep breath, then nodded slowly and allowed the aid to help her up. She then retrieved the clipboard from the floor and with a shaky hand, took notes on the outburst.
"What was he saying?" the aid asked, folding her arms.
Dr. Schmidt scrawled for a few moments longer before responding, her handwriting a bit sloppier with her unsteady hand. Finally, with another deep breath, she pushed her hair out of her face and held the clipboard to her chest as she responded.
"I didn't catch it all," the doctor explained, "but he kept saying something about a betrayal."
"Betrayal?" the aid inquired. "What kind of betrayal?"
The doctor shrugged as she turned to watch the patient again, who was barely conscious, still mumbling softly and incoherently. "I don't know."
[Words: 743]
