“You don’t stick that in me,” I said.
“Don’t be that way, baby. It won’t get you anywhere,” Bland said, his fixed grin widening. “Lie down, and take it easy.”
“Not in me you don’t,” I said.
He caught hold of my wrist in his right hand. His short thick fingers clamped into my flesh like a vice.
“If you want it the hard way,” he said, his red. freckled face close to mine, “it’s okay with me.”
I exerted my muscles in a quick twist, hoping to break his hold, but instead I nearly broke my arm. I heaved forward, trying to hit him in the chest with my shoulder, but that didn’t work either.
He retained his grip, grinning at me, waiting to see what else I would do. I didn’t keep him waiting long, and tried to kick my legs free of the sheet, but that wasn’t possible. The sheet was as tough as canvas, and had been tucked in so tightly there was no shifting it.
“Finished, baby?” he asked, almost cheerfully. “I’m going to stick the needle in now, and if you struggle it’ll break off in you, so watch your step.”
I gritted my teeth and heaved away from him, pulling him off-balance, so he stumbled. He recovered immediately, and his grin vanished.
“So you think you’re strong, do you?” he whispered. “Okay, baby, let’s see how strong you are.”
He began to bend my arm. I resisted, but it was like pushing against a steam-roller. He was much, much too strong: unbelievably strong, and my arm slowly twisted behind me, creaking in every muscle. Cold sweat ran down my back, and my breath whistled out of me as I fought him.
I braced myself and regained a couple of inches. Bland was beginning to breathe heavily himself. Maybe if I could have added my weight to the struggle I might have held him. But sitting up in a bed with one arm pinned and my legs hampered I hadn’t a chance against his strength and weight.
He bent me forward inch by inch, and I fought him inch by inch. Slowly my arm went up behind me, was wedged into my shoulder-blades. I wasn’t aware of any pain. I could have killed him. Then I felt the sharp prick of the needle, and he stepped back, releasing my arm. There was sweat on his face, too, and his breath was laboured. He hadn’t had it all his own way.
“There you are, baby,” he gasped. “You asked for it and you got it. If I wasn’t such a soft chicken I’d have busted your arm.”
I tried to take a swing at him, but my arm didn’t respond. I don’t know what he had pushed into me, but it worked fast. The red, freckled, hateful face began to recede. The walls of the room fell apart. Beyond the face and the walls was a long, black tunnel.
III
I opened my eyes.
Pale sunshine came through the barred windows, carrying the shadows of the bars to the opposite white wall: six sharp-etched lines to remind me I was a prisoner.
Bland was moving silently about the room, a duster in his broad thick hand, a look of concentration on his freckled face. He dusted everywhere; nothing escaped his attention.
Hopper was sitting up in bed, reading his book. There was a peevish scowl on his face, and he paid no attention to Bland, even when he dusted his night table.
Bland came over to me and dusted my night table. Our eyes met, and the fixed grin on his face widened.
“Hello, baby,” he said. “How are you feeling?”
“All right,” I said, and shifted higher in the bed. My right arm and shoulder ached, and I still had the imprint of his thick fingers on my wrist.
“That’s good. I’ll be along with shaving kit in a few minutes. Then you can have a bath.”
That would mean taking off the handcuff, I thought.
Bland seemed to guess what was going through my mind.
“And look, baby, don’t let’s have any trouble,” he said. “Don’t get the idea you can get away. You can’t. There are a couple more guys like me around. The door at the head of the stairs is locked, and there are bars up at the windows. You ask Hoppie. He’ll tell you. When Hoppie first came here there was trouble. He tried to get away, but it didn’t work.”
I stared at him woodenly, and didn’t say anything.
“You ask Hoppie what we do to a baby who makes trouble. He’ll tell you.” He looked at Hopper, grinning. “You’ll tell him, won’t you, Hoppie?”
Hopper looked up and scowled at him.
“Don’t talk to me, you low-born rat. I hate the sight of you.”
Bland chuckled.
“That’s all right, baby. I don’t mind. I’m used to it.”
Hopper called him an obscene name.
“Take it easy, baby,” Bland said, still smiling. “Don’t bear down on it.” He went to the door. “Shave, then a bath and then breakfast. I’ll see if I can get you an extra egg.”
Hopper told him what he could do with the egg.
Bland went away, chuckling.
“Don’t try it, Seabright,” Hopper said. “It’s not worth it. They’ll put you in a strait jacket, and keep you in a bath of cold water for days. He’s not lying about the door. You can’t get out without a key.”
I decided to wait and see.
After a while Bland came back with two electric razors. He plugged them in and gave Hooper one and me the other.
“Make it snappy, babies,” he said. “I gotta lot to do to-day.”
“You’re always grumbling,” Hopper said angrily. “I wish you’d go. I’m sick of seeing your ugly face.”
“It’s mutual, baby,” Bland said cheerfully. “Hurry up and make a job of it. Dr. Salzer likes to see his patients looking smart.”
So I was going to see Salzer. Not that I could hope for anything from him, but maybe I could scare him. If Sherrill had put me in here, maybe Salzer could be persuaded it was a dangerous game to kidnap anyone. I thought it was unlikely, but it might be worth trying.
When I had finished shaving. Bland came in with a white cotton dressing-gown.
“No funny business, baby,” he said in his whispering voice, and came around the bed to unlock the handcuff. “Just take it easy.”
I lay still while he took off the handcuff. Hopper was watching me with concentrated interest. Bland moved back a few feet and also watched me.
“Up you get, baby.”
I wriggled my legs from under the sheet, swung them to the floor and stood up. The moment I put my weight on my legs I knew it would be hopeless to start anything.
My legs were too shaky and too weak. I couldn’t have run away from a charging bull.
I took a staggering step forward and promptly sat on the floor. I didn’t have to sit on the floor, but it occurred to me it wouldn’t be a bad idea to let Bland think I was a lot weaker in the legs than I actually was.
I crawled up on hands and knees and regained my feet. Bland hadn’t moved. He was suspicious, and wasn’t going to be caught in any trap.
“Give me a hand, can’t you?” I snarled at him. “Or let me get back to bed.”
“Look, baby, I’m warning you,” he said softly. “If you start anything it’ll be the last thing you start for a very long time.”
“Cut out the yap. What’s the matter with you? Scared of me?”
That seemed the kind of language he understood, for he grabbed hold of my arm.
“Not of you, baby, or of anyone else.”
He helped me on with the dressing-gown, opened the door and together we stepped out into a long broad
