Chapter Three
He awoke in response to a nurse trying to get him to bring his right arm down away from his head so she could tend to the catheter in his vein, the intravenous drip torn free by his struggles. Instinct took over and he lashed out at the nurse. Naturally left handed he caught her in the face, propelling her away from the bed. She fell, crashing into the monitors. In an instant he was out of bed ready to flee, but his legs, which hadn’t been used in so long, couldn’t hold him steady. He grabbed the bed to stop from falling, appalled at his weakness. The nurse was back on her feet looking at him with a mixture of fear and anger as she leaned over to press the buzzer for assistance.
The man staring back at her was wide eyed and wild looking. He was holding onto the bed, eyes darting from her face every few seconds to look around him.
“Can’t stay,” she heard him whisper. “Got to get out. They’ll kill me. No, no MORE!”
The last word was a shout. He flung his hands to his ears as if trying to block out sound. Spike staggered away from the bed, limping badly on his left leg, and holding onto anything within reach to steady his progress.
The door to the ward flew open and two nurses, a middle aged woman and a younger man, and the doctor who’d examined him earlier ran in. Jake, the doctor, quickly took in the scene and motioned everyone to stand still. In a calm voice he asked the nurse if she was ok and got a slight nod in response. Her broken nose was throbbing furiously.
“Well now, where do you think you’re going to? Only just woke up and already want to leave us?” said Jake.
Spike looked at the doctor in dismay. He was at least as big as Angel and Spike knew he was in no condition to fight. Hell, he could barely stand.
“Can’t stay, can’t stay, can’t stay,” he murmured. He glanced at the nurse he’d hit and recoiled from the look in her eyes.
“Sorry, but can’t stay, gotta go, not safe.”
“What’s not safe?” asked Jake gently, sensing that being confrontational wasn’t a good idea. The man looked scared to death but dangerous along with it. Jake recalled the nurse’s words about him talking of rape in his sleep and started to regret not contacting the police.
A shaft of sunlight beamed suddenly just in front of Spike as it escaped from behind the clouds. He stepped back sharply to avoid it, almost over balancing.
“Bollocks!” he exclaimed.
Puzzled by the patient’s reaction Jake repeated his question.
“What’s not safe?”
“Me. Everything. Sun. Stakes. Dust.” Spike seemed to collapse as he uttered these words. He brought his hands to his head.
“What the bleeding hell is happening to me!” he screamed, making the male nurse jump.
Before Jake could stop him the young man leapt to get hold of Spike whilst he was distracted.
“Dave! No!” Jake shouted.
Too late. For a man barely able to stand Spike could still throw a hard punch. With a yell of frustration Jake ran to Dave’s aid. Despite the punch Dave still managed to get hold of Spike, trying to pull him forward. Spike, seeing the shaft of light still shining bright, fought with all his strength not to go.
His mind was once again a confused mess as he tried to make sense of it all.
# “Ok, so my heart is beating. What does that mean apart from it feeling bloody weird?” he thought as he struggled. “A soul hadn’t stopped me from the threat of combustion in sunlight before. I’m sure as hell not risking it now!” #
He fought but once Jake grabbed his other arm it was over. A sudden prick in his arm and he fell limp to the floor, the sedation rapidly taking hold. Jake and Dave looked at each other, gasping and out of breath.
“Anna,” Jake called out to the middle aged nurse still rooted to the spot where they’d first stood. “Get a couple of orderlies here as soon as possible. I think we’d better move Mr. John Doe somewhere a little more secure before he wakes up, don’t you?”
She turned quickly and rushed out of the ward.
“Dave, go check on Sarah. I think she might have a concussion. Take care of her. I’ll stay here with our friend”. The tone of his voice left no room for doubt that he didn’t consider this man a friend.
“No one attacks my staff and gets away with it,” he said to himself, looking down at the crumpled heap that was Spike.
ooooooooooo
Helen arrived at the hospital. She was early - her shift didn’t start for another thirty minutes but she could wait no longer. She changed quickly into her uniform and headed over to the ward eager to see ‘her’ patient. She walked in and looked towards his bed. It was empty.
“He’s been moved,” said Anna from behind her. Helen turned around.
“Why? Where’s he gone? Is he awake?”
“He might be awake again by now but trust me and stay away from that one. He’s dangerous. He attacked Sarah, broke her nose and gave her a concussion. It took Dr. Jake and Dave to pin him down. They managed to sedate him and had him carted off to the psych ward.
“What?” exclaimed Helen, “He seemed okay early this morning before I left. Confused and dazed but not threatening.”
She started to walk to the door.
“Don’t, Helen. Don’t get involved. Sarah heard him muttering about rape. Leave well alone,” warned Anna.
Helen carried on not heeding her colleague’s words. She took the elevator up two floors and sought out the nurses’ station for the psych ward to see where John Doe had been placed.
The psychiatric ward comprised of six beds, three on each side. Beyond them were six small rooms, all with doors that could be locked and only opened from the outside. The nurses worked on this ward in pairs due to the unpredictable nature of their patients.
She sighed with dismay when she saw that ‘her’ patient wasn’t in one of the ordinary beds. She popped her head round the door of the cubicle that served as the nurses’ station. Two nurses, both male, were there; one writing up some notes, the other sorting some drugs ready for dispensing.
“Hi, guys,” said Helen, “Just checking on a patient transferred up here from intensive care.”
She didn’t miss the look that passed between the two men.
“What’s up? I mean, I know he caused some trouble on the ward but he’s just come out of a coma. He could barely string two words together this morning.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not convinced he can string a coherent sentence together ever,” said Adam, “He’s a total sack of hammers. God knows what he’s been doing all his life. He’s got more scars on him than I’ve ever seen.”
“He came in injured on that crazy night when all hell seemed to be let loose. He was covered in wounds from being buried under rubble.” Helen didn’t know why but felt she had to defend him.
“Look, Helen, this guys been into something. It’s not new scars I’m talking about. He’s got, among others, one right round each forearm neat as you please. Looks surgical but I don’t know of any procedure that leaves scars like that.”
“I want to see him.” Helen stood firm.
“Well, if you do he’s in room six but that door won’t be opened. It’s nearly time for his meds and if last time’s anything to go by, no way are we going in there ‘til Dr. Jake gets here.”
Helen almost faltered. If he’d got Nick and Adam so spooked he must be bad. They’d both worked the ward for years. She’d always thought nothing fazed them. With apprehension she started to walk towards room six, then paused, turned back to the two men and asked,
“Does he have a name yet?”
“The only name that he's said, well, we think it’s a name, is Spike.”
“Spike? Why do you think that’s a name at all?” she replied.
“Because it’s always followed by the same phrase ‘Spike’s a bad man, he hurt the girl’. We figure Spike’s him and the girl is poor old Sarah who he hit.”
“Oh……..Ok”. Helen resumed her walk to the room containing the patient. She noticed she’d demoted him from ‘her’ to ‘the’. Certainly not ‘hers’ if he was as violent as they said.
She peered through the small observation window and could see why the men were waiting for Jake. The bed was upturned and stood diagonally across one corner, mattress and bedding strewn all over the floor. The patient was huddled behind the bed. He sat on his haunches, head in his hands, his fingers constantly pulling at his hair. The hair that had been bleached as white as it could go, when he first was admitted, now had a couple of inches of natural colour showing. It was sandy brown, slightly curly, and it had made him look appealing as he lay peaceful in his coma. Now it was mussed up as he continuously ran his hands backwards and forwards through it. All the time he was rocking slowly too and fro. She could see he was talking but couldn’t hear the words he was saying.
They wouldn’t have made any sense if she could hear them. They didn’t make much sense to Spike and he was the one saying them. Words and phrases constantly were on his lips, their order jumbled, meanings nonsensical.
“Spike’s a bad man. He hurt the girl”.
“Don’t hurt the girl.”
“I can feel them, everyone of them.”
He looked up suddenly as if aware of Helen’s gaze. His ice-cold blue eyes met her warm brown ones for a second.
Helen held her breath until he lowered his eyes back to the floor and carried on with the rocking and the muttering. She knew she somehow had to help him. His eyes didn’t look evil, they looked tortured. She was sure that the man she was watching wasn’t a psycho. She didn’t know how she knew but suddenly she was certain. Her medical training told her she was being ridiculous. One fleeting glance can’t provide a diagnosis but she’d felt she’d seen into his soul and that he was in need of her help.
She heard voices and turned to see Dr. Jake, Nick and Adam approaching, a syringe in the doctor’s hand. All three men looked like they’d rather be anywhere else.
“Helen, what are you doing here?” asked Jake, voice unusually curt.
“I just want to help.”
He sighed knowing, short of ordering her away, there was nothing he could do. He wasn’t big into acting all authoritatively, preferring the quiet friendly approach with his colleagues. Perhaps if she saw how the patient behaved she’d stop hanging around.
“Okay, but for Christ’s sake stay out of the way. Since you’re here, you can close the door and the three of us can go in. But do NOT open it again until I say. Understood?”
“Understood,” Helen replied.
“Good,” continued Jake, “Now press the button and open the window blinds.”
Helen suddenly realised that the light in the room was very dim. She’d been so intent on looking at Spike she hadn’t noticed the blind was down. In all six of the rooms on this ward the window blinds were fitted into the frame of the window high on the back wall, so patients couldn’t get at them. They were controlled electronically from outside the room.
Obediently she pressed the button. The blind slowly started to rise, allowing bright sunlight to flood the room.
Spike abruptly stopped swaying and flung himself down as close to the back wall as possible, staring with horror as the line of light crept nearer.
“What’s he doing?” asked Helen, astonished at what she was seeing.
“Damned if I know,” replied Adam, “Perhaps he’s a vampire?” he said with a chuckle. “All I know is he’s so keen to keep out of the light it makes it a damn sight easier to grab the bastard and inject him.”
“Ready?” asked Jake.
The two nurses nodded.
“Okay, here goes.”
In they went. Spike had pulled himself into a sitting position against the back wall, knees tucked under his chin. Only about two feet of the length of the room was now in shadow, only an inch or so away from his toes.
“Don’t want to die. Don’t want to die. Not again.”
“Not toasted and ghosted. No amulets.”
Spike gabbled these words as fast as he could, repeating each phrase like a mantra but all the time his eyes veered from the line made by the sun and the three men approaching. He saw the syringe in Jake’s hand and shrank back further still, pressing even harder against the wall.
“Yellow makes you weak, brown makes you sleepy.”
“Wasn’t me, luv. I’ve done my share of bad and you’re not one of them.”
“Christ! What have you done to me? Can’t feel my hands.”
“No, please, not again!”
The words rushed out of his mouth. His eyes were glued to the syringe but on the last four words he looked straight at Jake, his face showing such fear that the doctor’s step faltered momentarily.
“Whoever this guy is, he’s petrified,” he thought, as the two nurses pounced on Spike holding him tight.
He wriggled desperately but, weakened by his months of inactivity, injury and the drugs being given, he was no match for them. They held him tight until he started to relax and drift off to sleep.
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