Once they had him in cuffs, Jenkins urged the cops to head back. “We’ll take it from here, boys.”
“We were told to bring him up.”
“Well, the doc has other plans.”
“That wasn’t…”
“Speak to the doc,” Jenkins said.
The cops looked at each other and back at Jack before walking away.
They waited until they were out of sight before Jenkins and Porter dragged him back through the maze of pipe. Jack expected to be brought topside and thrown into seclusion but instead they took a different turn.
“Where you taking me?”
“Shut up.”
Porter led the way up a ladder. He took out some keys and opened a grate which led into a boiler room. Nothing was on. It was just dank and dark.
“You know, Winchester, there was a time when places like this didn’t screw around with assholes like you. Now we’re told not to fight back, that you have rights. Well, I’m gonna show you what they did with people like you back in the day,” Jenkins said. It didn’t take long before Jack knew where they were taking him. They dragged him into the hydrotherapy room.
“Porter, give me a hand getting him into that bath.”
Now that he was restrained with his hands behind his back, they might have thought there was nothing he could do, but they were wrong. Porter went on one side, and Jenkins on the other. As they tried to lift him into a bath full of grime, Jack brought his boots up to the lip of the bath and pushed off, full force backwards. He took Jenkins and Porter with him down to the floor. As they landed hard, Jack head-butted Porter by swiping his head to the side, then turned and kneed Jenkins in the nuts. While they writhed in pain, he rolled back and flipped up to his feet and burst towards the doorway. He made it back into the corridor only to trip over a wheelchair hidden by the darkness. Jack crashed to the floor and groaned. As he was struggling to get up, Jenkins appeared off to his right and struck him with a baton.
Two hard whacks and he was unconscious.
When he came to, freezing cold was rising up around his body. They had got him in the bath and turned on the faucets, which were still in operation. Freezing cold water gushed out filling up the tub with him in it. His hands were still restrained behind his back. He thrashed but it was no use. They had laid a sheet on top of him and with water soaking it, it began to act like a weighted blanket. It didn’t help that he was clothed. Still, that didn’t stop him from trying to get out.
Each time he tried to get up, Jenkins used both hands on his shoulders to force him back down. His head remained above the water.
“Hours, literally hours, patients were forced to endure submersion in water to treat manic-depressive psychoses. You see, Mr. Winchester, the cold water slows the blood flow to the brain and quickly decreases mental and physical activity. How you liking it? Cold enough for you?”
“Let me out.”
“Oh, all in good time. Hell, we still have the steam cabinets for you to try out. What was it you told Chapman? That this was a country club. Well, let’s give you the club tour.” With that said, he forced Jack’s head under the water while Porter held his legs down. With his hands tied behind his back there was nothing he could do. The unexpected push caused Jack to gulp water. His brain felt like it was solidifying as the icy cold water attacked his senses.
Released, he came up gasping for air.
Jenkins slapped him on the side of the face. “Yep. I don’t know why they stopped using this shit. It is pure magic. What do you think, Winchester?”
Spluttering water and gasping, he couldn’t even spit out words. The cold was unbearable. “Angelo said you would enjoy this. He wanted you to know what it was like all those years ago, tied and thrown under water. Gasping for air. Thinking his lungs would explode.”
Thrust down again, Jack writhed, struggling to get up but it was useless. Tied, held on both ends and moving around inside a slippery bath full of ice-cold water, his body started to become rigid. When he came up the second time he was shivering like mad, his teeth chattering, his lips turning blue. This time Jenkins wrapped his arm around him and put him in a choke hold and began to squeeze. “I could cut off the oxygen to your brain and you’d be brain dead.” He squeezed forcing Jack’s face to turn a beet red.
“Jenkins. Jenkins!” Porter said.
“What?”
“He told us to keep him alive.”
“Ah… you take all the fun out of it.” He released his grip. Jack coughed hard; his lungs felt like they were on fire. “Let’s get him out and see if those steam cabinets work.” He slapped Jack on the shoulders. “Don’t worry. You’ll warm up in no time.”
Frozen stiff, his fingers could barely move as they dragged him out and over to an ancient contraption that looked like a cross between a wooden cabinet and a cryogenic chamber. Porter unlocked the front and they stuck him in it, on a seat. The inside was crawling with cobwebs and spiders. They slammed it closed, his head protruding from a hole at the top of the cabinet.
“Now these suckers were used back in the 1900s. An absolute masterpiece, if I don’t mind saying so myself,” Jenkins said. He headed over to the wall and cranked an iron wheel. “They say it was meant to calm patients down. Let’s see, shall we.”
He ran a hand over a dust-covered dial on the wall and continued cranking the wheel. Jack heard a hissing sound, then felt warm steam hitting his body. At first it didn’t feel too bad, in fact it was a welcome relief after the freezing water, but within seconds it
