The Shadows Below

Chapter Four

Kasia.

I come to in the back of a van, with memories of having a needle jabbed in and getting pushed in, coming back to me in flashes. They have me trussed up in a hammock-type situation in the back, arms by my side, swinging back and forth as it moves. It's not comfortable by any means and I close my eyes to ward off any feelings of motion sickness. I don't want to puke when I can't even move, lying on my front doesn't help much either.

The truck stops and I stop rocking for a moment before the doors open and I'm unloaded, the straps holding my trussed form are untied and I'm brought out under bright spotlights that I blink a little.

'Welcome back,' Hardcastle's voice. 'Apologies for the mode of transport.'

'Fuck you too.' Out of the trusses, I'm lowered onto a hospital gurney and my clothes are removed.

'Unkind. Have you ever had your stomach pumped? I've heard it isn't pleasant but you do have to be at least a little conscious.'

'If you have any value in enjoying your life -' I'm cut off by the tube being none too gently forced down my throat.

'I'm sure the next part of that sentence was going to be very violent. Let me be clear, the more polite you are, the quicker and easier this will go for you.'

After that unpleasantness, I'm exhausted and even with no restraints, I can barely move a finger. But then I'm lifted to a sitting position and my wrists are restrained above my head.

'Quick question, if I had said 'yes' to this, would that have changed anything?'

'You would have had a nicer drive.'

'Good to know.' The medical staff - I don't want to name them any differently but they have forgotten their Hippocratic oaths and a few more morals along the way, start painting my bare skin with some unknown ointment that burns and leaves the skin feeling almost thinner and almost translucent. There is a drip attached to my neck and I see the IV-line bag has a colourful and unknown combination of drugs in it.

'My aunt had a fascination over the human body, she had dreams that were not available to women of her generation.'

'Shame I didn't meet her. She sounds lovely.'

'In a way you did. Or at least your namesake did.'

'My grandmother knew her?'

'They were acquainted. My aunt asked her to keep an eye on me, my family wasn't very popular at the time.'

'Why am I not surprised.'

'Your grandmother did what she could. But when I saw her at the end, she told me to stay away from you. You can imagine how hurt I felt. We had even become friends, after a time.'

'So you're now taking it out on me.'

'In a fashion.'

A table is wheeled up and on top are plastic containers. In each one is a clear lump of goo with something that is pale pink in the middle.

Two are lifted out by those wearing gloves and with no warning, they are applied to my newly sensitive skin. They both pass into my body and the pain when that comes when they are inside me - I pant and my eyes stream. It feels as though two of my organs are being twisted and squeezed.

'A little morphine wouldn't kill you,' I snarl at them.

'It would you, given the drugs that will start coursing through your system.' Marian motions to the IV-line baggie and as she does, a staff member releases the tube and I watch it travel. It hits my bloodstream slowly though it does manage to take the edge off the pain. My focus -or what's left of it, is on those lumps of goo, I see now that those first two were on my kidneys, and yet more are applied. One at a time, and I see how they have one for each organ. One is placed on my tongue, I choke as one staff member holds it while the goo dissolves and my tongue feels as though it is on fire afterwards. Another goes on my nose it burns for a moment but then it seems there is another scent in the air that I don't recognise.

'You've worked with the police departments for some time. Remind me, police informants are normally whom?'

'Junkies.' The realisation makes me ill. I want to throw up. 'You do realise how most junkies end up?'

'I'm well aware. But this is a controlled process, not a 16-year shooting up heroin.'

The last one is for my heart and the drugs, once dampening my senses, now just make everything hurt all the more. I struggle and Marian laughs as they apply the last one. I'm screaming now and I gain some drug-addled pleasure that even with the protection of the surgical masks, I can see I'm freaking them out.

The pain inside me stops but I still feel ill and I want to lie down and sleep for a year. But now the drugs are the painful part and I feel as though I might die from the pain. My organs are still working and my heart is pumping the drugs faster than before. Some part of me knows faster is not better. It feels as though I'm going to have an overdose if they're not careful. Every thought is flung far from my mind. No notion of my life flashing before my eyes, my awareness is growing smaller by the moment and my sense of touch is the only thing that tells me they've undone the restraints and lowered me back onto the gurney.

'See you on the other side, Kasia.'

And for the second time today, the pain ends and everything goes black.