Someone's In My Head (WATTYS AWARD WINNER 2015)

Chapter Six

He made it sound like I was a cute little fluffy lab rat. I thought for a second. No, things just didn't add up. "What about the 'this has never happened before' part? Explain."

"I-I'm sorry?" he stammered.

I was getting sick of his lies. Mr Blade flashed and was once again caressing the doctor's throat. He flinched.

"Wha- NO! No, no, I've told you everything!" Dr Gordon protested. I bet if his bladder was full he would've wet himself again. Such a sissy.

"Oh, no. I believe you've not told me everything." I gave the scalpel a hard shove. "Why. Was. I. Not. Supposed. To. Live?"

The middle-aged man began to sob. Holy shit. "Because all the others returned in body bags!" he spluttered. This guy was definitely traumatized by something. Something very sinister indeed.

Between sobs, Dr Gordon confessed it all. How he'd been receiving similar calls since a couple of years ago, to send certain patients to the same location he'd sent me to. How he'd too received stern warnings to keep all those missions a secret. How he'd conformed obediently to climb steadily up the hierarchy of Redwood's administration board, doubling and quadrupling his income along the way. He swore he had no idea what the patients underwent in the facility to end up returning in body bags. He admitted that he was merely responsible for the covering up-the consoling of the dead patients' parents, the explanation of the cause of death, etc. The one thing that spurred my interest was that all the casualties were teenagers, ages ranging from sixteen to twenty-one.

"No." The doctor frankly denied when I asked him if the caller was a fifty-year old necrophile. "I believe the caller wasn't working alone. There must be something at work behind his one-man façade. Something HUGE. And the facility I mentioned? It's enormous."

I really should pay this suspicious facility a visit. "Where is it?"

Dr Gordon seemed reluctant to tell me the address. He'd probably got himself into loads of trouble already by just having this chat with me.

"I need to know. If they're happening to be doing something wrong, I'll have to stop them." Noticing his worried expression, I added. "And don't worry, I'll never rat out on you."

Apparently, the greedy bastard wasn't very happy in losing his chance to advance higher from whatever position he now held in Redwood Hospital. I applied some threatening pressure to the blade.

"Okay, okay!" he squeaked like a terrified mouse. "It's at Bronx-"

What Dr Gordon was about to say was left unfinished, for at that moment, the window behind him exploded with a loud 'BAM!'. Almost simultaneously, the doctor's head snapped forward and blood spurted from a hole that appeared in the middle of his forehead.

A stunned silence followed the sudden blast. My ears were still ringing. Jesus Christ! He's dead! Wha-

Before I could even fully register what was happening, my legs were already leaping into action. I fell into a defensive crouch, eyes sweeping around the room, searching for any clues that led to the doctor's death. I could sense the thoughts that flitted across my mind, almost as if on their own.

Dr Gordon's been shot. By a sniper bullet-at this point my eyes examined the doctor's grotesque forehead-an M-24 based on the ferocity and the amorphous shape of the exit wound. Who would dare to shoot a civilian in plain daylight?

I duck-walked hastily towards the broken window. I could feel the breeze already. Carefully, I peeked out of the ledge. It was clear-literally-as clear as any summer day could be. There was no signs of terror, no signs of people scattering for cover.