Out of Time

Chapter Four

Cathleen was just beginning to tease John about his wardrobe when a nurse interrupted them. "Mr. David? Time for your last course of gene therapy!" her high-pitched voice was artificially cheerful and condescending at the same time, as if she were speaking to a child.

John watched warily as she approached, holding up a syringe full of something yellow and oily. "This is just to trick your body into healing very fast," she explained. "When you were brought in, the lab took a genetic sample of synthesize this from. You've already had two doses, so by morning, you should be completely healed up." Her condescension grated on John's nerves.

She stood near his head and John assumed that, since there was no needle attached to the syringe, she was going to infuse the contents into some intravenous port he hadn't noticed yet. Instead, she jabbed the end of the syringe against the base of his neck without warning, as if trying to stab him with it. Pain shot from his neck to his toes, immobilizing him for what seemed like an eternity, until she removed the syringe. John gasped for air after she'd removed the device, since his diaphragm had also seized at the same time.

"Yeah, sorry; should have warned you. I hate that, too. The paralysis is designed to keep you from tearing something while the needle injects whatever they intend to dose you with," Cathleen commiserated with him, ignoring the nurse entirely as she stood up. "It prevents drug abuse since you can't dose yourself. I'll be back in an hour."

"Oh, he won't still be here in an hour," the nurse denied in the same, saccharine tones she'd used with John. "His amnesia means he's going out to the P-wing, now that he's had his medical finished up. Don't worry, Officer, you should have access over there too, if you need him to make a statement or something."

Studying her expression, John decided that the petite nurse used her sugary voice to hide a malevolent personality. By her expression, Cathleen must have thought so too, because her hand clenched into a fist as she sat back down. John wondered if she wanted to punch the tiny, obnoxious nurse.

"No one told me about a move," Cathleen warned in her 'officer' tone. "This patient is the victim of an attempted murder and is in protective custody. I've been assigned to guard him."

"Well," huffed the nurse. "The P-Wing has guards, so I'm sure he'll be safe if you want to go home." She shrugged. "Anyway, from what he said about the time travel thing, he needs Doctor Bard more than Doctor Reisman anyway."

Cathleen's voice changed from warning to enquiry, as if she fully accepted the nurse's assessment of the situation. "Maybe? Hey, refresh my memory; they don't use gowns over in P-Wing, do they?"

When the nurse shook her head, eyes glinting merrily, John realized that she fully intended to send him to whatever P-Wing was dressed only in the scant hospital gown. Cathleen's tone hardened to one of command. "Well, my witness did not arrive with any personal belongings. Don't you think you should get him something to wear over there?" John's respect for the police officer grew as he realized she'd sprung a trap on the malicious nurse.

The nurse blinked, clearly surprised by the change in tack. Her answer was drawn out, tone unwilling. "Well, I suppose I can check lost-and-found for something." She left. John breathed a sigh of relief.

"Come on, John." Cathleen spoke up as soon as the little blond menace had left. "Let's go." She flipped the blanket off of his legs and offered a hand up. "The last thing you need is a trip to the psych ward."

John accepted her hand, surprised that he could stand without assistance and felt as if he'd never been hurt at all. "Will I be arrested if I leave against doctor's advice?" he asked cautiously.

"Nah, the medical charts say you're cleared, so you can leave the M-Wing at any time. State pays for crime victims' medical care, so you're not skipping out on a bill, and my job is to protect you. I can't do that over there in P. Anyone can disguise himself as a patient. Anyway, my husband is about your size, and he has more clothes than he knows what to do with, so he'll give you something to wear. I guarantee that if you stay, she'll come back with clothes guaranteed to make you look like you belong in the P-Wing."