The Law of Nines (Sword of Truth 15.50)

Holding him up with one hand under his arm, Henry suddenly punched Alex in the abdomen.

Alex doubled over from the shock of the blow and fell back into the chair. He covered the cramping pain with one arm, even though the ache seemed remote. With his other hand he gripped the arm of the chair. He looked up to see Henry grinning.

The big man reached down and pulled Alex to his feet again, then punched him twice, both blows harder than the first.

Alex crashed back into the chair, moaning.

“Do you want to fight back, Alex? Take another swing at me?” He chuckled again. “Guess not. Thorazine takes the fight right out of you, doesn’t it? Makes it impossible to work up any aggression at all. That’s what it’s for, you know. It’s to keep dangerous psychopaths like you from hurting anyone.”

Alex was aware of the pain, but it was only a distant awareness. It seemed inconsequential. Even though he knew he should, he simply didn’t care. He couldn’t imagine how to care.

“Thorazine represses aggression so well that you can’t even work up a little anger when you need to. But I guess you know that.”

Henry pulled him up, held on to him, and in rapid succession pounded his fist into Alex’s middle. The blows staggered him back, but Henry was big and strong enough to keep Alex from falling.

Alex couldn’t get his breath. He knew that he was struggling to breathe, gasping, but the drugs were preventing him from being able to react. It felt like they were preventing him from being able to breathe as fast as he needed to.

Henry released his hold on Alex’s arm and gave him another mighty punch. Alex crashed back down into the chair, holding his middle. He couldn’t pull in a breath. He thought he might throw up. He sensed desperation in the way he gasped, but he felt like he was no more than a distant observer.

With his nose all bandaged up, Henry was looking a little winded, too.

“All right, let’s go for a walk and see your mother. Get it over with.”

Alex couldn’t get up. He was having great difficulty drawing each breath. Henry pulled him to his feet and rammed a knee into his groin. Alex collapsed to the floor, curled up, moaning.

Henry watched a moment, pleased by the sight, then yanked Alex to his feet again. He had great difficulty straightening up. Henry spun him around and shoved him, getting him moving toward the door. Alex tried to walk, but his legs wouldn’t move fast enough to walk. He could only shuffle in a hunched posture.

Henry followed close behind. “Don’t you think that this is over, Alex, or that we’re even. I haven’t even begun to get even.”

32.

AT THE HEAVY DOOR Henry pulled his keys out on the reel attached to his belt and used one of them to turn the lock. A few people looked up when Henry led Alex into the central nurses’ station, but after satisfying their curiosity they went back to what they were doing.

Alex could see several women in the back, down the aisle between the tall shelves, either pulling file folders or putting them away. Beyond the wide window in the pharmacy room a lone nurse worked at taking inventory. A couple of other nurses behind the front counter were drinking coffee and discussing their home life, their conversation animated from time to time with laughter. None of them gave Alex and Henry any more than a passing glance.

Alex felt invisible.

He shuffled along, unable to move any faster, not caring if he did or didn’t. He wanted to care, somewhere deep inside he desperately wanted to care, but he could not bring forth concern. His mind was mostly occupied with the single, simple task of following Henry.

He noticed the elevator, remembering that he used to use it when he left the hospital. He couldn’t entirely recall how he had come to be locked in the place, to be a patient with his own room. He couldn’t focus his mind enough to put the sequence of events together, to grasp it all. It was frustrating to be so in the dark about what had happened and how he had come to be there. Even that frustration, though, failed to rouse emotion.

At the next locked door, Alex waited for it to be unlocked in order to go into the women’s wing and see his mother, to see if she was all right. He followed the burly orderly through the door and waited as he locked it behind them.

He watched the light from the room up ahead reflect off the ripples in the polished gray linoleum floor as he shuffled down the endlessly long corridor. Henry stopped to poke his head in one of the doors to the side.

“She isn’t in her room,” he said before continuing on toward the sunroom at the end of the hall.

When they finally entered the big, bright room at the end of the corridor, several of the woman clustered near the television looked up, but then went back to their show. There were a few other woman scattered around the room but Alex didn’t pay any attention to them as he followed Henry.

“Helen, you have a visitor,” Henry said.

She was sitting in a plastic chair at a table, her hands nested in her lap. She stared straight ahead, not seeming to hear the orderly.

“Helen, your son is here to see you.”

She looked up at the orderly, blinking slowly. When Henry pointed at Alex she looked over. There was no recognition in her eyes. She didn’t know who she was looking at.

Alex knew that she, too, was on heavy medications to suppress her aggression. He knew just how she felt in that regard. But he knew, too, deep down inside, that with her it was more than just the medication. There was something fundamentally broken in her.

Alex had wanted to know that his mother was all right, but once seeing that she didn’t look hurt, his mind began sinking back into the meaningless static that served for mental activity.

It occurred to him that maybe he should say something.

“Mom, how are you?” His own words rang hollow in his mind. He knew they were the right words, but they contained no meaning for him. He could summon no emotion to pair with the words.

She stared. “Fine.”

Alex nodded. He didn’t know what else to say.

“Satisfied?” Henry asked.

Alex looked up at the man. “Yes. I want her to be well.”

A smile broke out beneath the white bandages. “Good. You remember that. You remember that you want your mother to be well.”

Alex knew that Henry was threatening him but he felt no emotional reaction to that threat. It was frustrating that he couldn’t find a shred of anger within himself.

“Well,” Henry said, “now that we all know that Mom is fine, let’s get you back to your room. It won’t be long until it’s time for your medication.”

Alex nodded.

As he turned, he saw someone sitting not far away on a couch against the wall. She was wearing jeans and a black top, but it was her long blond hair that had caught Alex’s attention.

It was Jax.

Alex froze. He felt a rush of emotion welling up within him, coming close to breaking the surface of awareness, but the too-distant feeling remained mired in a wilderness of nothing.

Jax was sitting alone on the couch. Her hands rested limp at her sides. Her brown eyes stared straight ahead. She didn’t seem to be aware of anything. Alex distantly thought that she was achingly beautiful.

Henry, who had noticed Alex stop and stare, grinned.

“Good-looking woman, eh, Alex?”

For the first time that he could remember, Alex felt the presence of the dark shadow of anger somewhere within.

“Do you want to say hello?” Henry asked. “Go ahead. Might as well as long as we’re here.”

Alex shuffled closer and came to a stop before her.

“Jax?”

She looked up. She blinked slowly.

Alex saw within those beautiful eyes a spark of recognition.

That spark was layered over with the same numbing weight of drugs that he knew so well, the same drugs he hated, but he still saw it there.

If Jax recognized him, and he was sure she did, she didn’t act like it, showing no more sign of recognition than

had his mother.

Alex realized that it had to be deliberate. She didn’t want to betray that she recognized him. As drugged as she was, she was trying to protect him by not acknowledging that she knew him.

“Well,” Henry said, “looks like she isn’t interested in a date.” He nudged Alex with an elbow as he leaned a little closer. “Maybe she’d like a date with me later tonight after lights-out. What do you think, Alex? Think she might like that?”

Through the unfeeling haze, Alex knew that Jax was in great peril. He again felt the shadowy presence of anger, but this time it was closer, darker, stronger, even if he couldn’t reach it, couldn’t connect with it.

He managed to muster deception. “Maybe.”

Henry chuckled. “Maybe she’d like you to tell us all about the gateway. Think so, Alex? Think she would be relieved if you did what we want?”