Drawn Up From Deep Places

LEAN

Picked him out the river, sir. Been like this

ever since.

PURL

From London, then . . . probably a failed suicide.

JACK screams again.

LEAN

I’d top myself too, I had a headful of whatever he’s got.

PURL

I don’t doubt it. Well, we’ll soon clear his cranium. Mrs. Bentham!

(To BOWKER and LEAN)

Hold him straight.

SOUNDS OF STRUGGLE, as they do. MRS. BENTHAM fastens the headpiece onto JACK with a SNAP; JACK’S cries become muffled.

PURL

(Through gritted teeth)

All right, that does it. Mrs. Bentham, the switch!

MRS. BENTHAM

Yes, Dr. Purl.

She pulls the switch. The faint HUMMING of the generator RATCHETS UP; a SHARP, ELECTRIC CRACKLE erupts over it. JACK’S cries become a SUSTAINED, MUFFLED YELL.

The CRACKLE stops, the HUMMING dropping back to its previous level. A THUMP as JACK collapses onto his gurney.

BOWKER

Here, he’s bitten through his lip—

PURL

No matter.

(To MRS. BENTHAM)

Again!

The same crackle, LOUDER this time. JACK HOWLS THROUGH CLENCHED TEETH, in even more pain. The crackle stops. JACK THUMPS to the gurney, harder this time. He MOANS softly.

LEAN

Doctor, his eyes are gone all white!

PURL