by P. S. Power
“Hey, Bethany... Do you think you could go with Nurse Rogers here to the bath, or showers, and get cleaned up before bed? Just do what she asks you to, alright?” Worried that the woman may not have the energy to make it, she watched her closely.
Without speaking, Bethany stood and waited.
Seeing this the nurse simply walked out of the room, looking over her shoulder to check if the other woman followed, which she did, docilely.
About forty minutes later, Bethany came back, following the older woman, wearing a long cloth gown like Gwen herself wore. It beat the paper gowns most hospitals back home used, if only because these actually covered your behind when you stood. It should at least, she hadn't tried it yet. On the negative side, they wrapped around your legs a bit when you moved, even just shifting in bed, which was annoying. Gwen longed for a pair of sweat pants to sleep in, but somehow doubted this world had them.
Seeing that the other woman staggered a little as she walked, being so tired, Gwen suggested Bethany get into bed and go to sleep immediately.
“How long should I sleep?” the detective asked innocently.
Gwen thought about this carefully before speaking, getting the idea that the detective, while possibly brilliant – at least the other detective had seemed to think so – could be stunningly literal, so telling her to sleep as long as she could might be a bad idea. She might hibernate like a bear for months or something.
“Nurse Rogers, what time is it right now?” Gwen looked at the woman in her white uniform and cape, not seeing a watch, but knowing that she'd have some way to find out the time. Nurses had to, because too many things in a hospital worked to exacting schedules.
Pulling a watch, large and gold in color, from the pocket on the front of her uniform, she told them, her voice sounding crisp and slightly English to Gwen, “It's fifteen minutes after three right now.”
Doing some quick mental math, Gwen told Bethany to try and sleep for fifteen hours. That would get her up at six in the morning, more or less, which seemed alright with Nurse Rogers at least. She wondered how closely to this the other woman would manage to get without a clock of any sort.
Bethany didn't say anything, she simply worked the mechanism on the side of the bed, lowering the hand rail without asking for help and without hesitation. Gwen would have had to get someone to show her how it worked to do the same thing. The mechanism was just too different from what she knew. The coppery nib, looked like it should be a button, but when she pushed it, or tried to slide it, nothing happened at all. Then, after climbing under the covers, she laid back and, as far as Gwen could tell, instantly went to sleep.
Looking at Bethany and then giving Gwen a strange look, Nurse Rogers told her she'd be back with her afternoon tea shortly after four. She left using quick, efficient steps, probably needing to get to her other patients, having just had an hour bitten out of her day by the demands Gwen had placed on her. Thinking about it, Gwen decided to give the lady a fourth mark on her mental list, letting her tie for first place with Mrs. Williamson, a neighbor of hers that always gave her a fruitcake at the holidays, Gwen being a freak recluse or not.
For the rest of the day, Gwen sat, trying to figure out what the device next to her did. It looked like something a mad scientist might have in their lab, rumbling at her, the top section seeming to produce a sense of warmth, but without actual heat. She could feel it, but it didn't make a lot of sense to her.
When the doctor came back in, she finally just asked about it. When in doubt, admit ignorance and try to learn, rather than stay in the dark.
He looked at her, surprised at her interest.
“That?” He pointed to it, confirming that she did indeed mean the device next to her. “It's a radiative device on the top, sending out waves of positive energy, magic attuned specifically to healing, and in the cabinet here on the bottom is a device that produces a set of sounds, around fourteen to twenty-four hertz... I don't know if that makes sense to you, being, well, not from here...” He tried to be delicate even about that, she noticed, as if it would be disruptive to her to think about.
She just nodded, slowly and carefully.
“Hertz, that means waves per second here, right?” This seemed likely to her, but she really wanted the confirmation.
The doctor beamed at her.
“Yes! That's exactly right. That range, fourteen to twenty-four, is the main healing range for human tissues, at least as far as sound goes. Using constant exposure to such sounds, you'll heal much faster than you would without, and the additional energy from the coil helps to keep you alive while healing. Normally you produce plenty of such energy on your own, of course, but in a hospital situation, we've found over the years that it's of immeasurable help and aid in rapid healing.” He spoke with confidence, as if these things weren't just pseudoscience here. She felt pretty certain he'd have been laughed out of a modern hospital in her world for saying such things, if not thrown out by security. Then again, she was still alive, so these people must be doing something right.
The blond doctor turned and glanced at the sleeping form of the detective in the bed next to hers, only a few feet away. The woman slept soundly, almost unmoving, except to reposition herself about once every ninety minutes or so. Gwen had seen her eyes twitch, showing REM sleep, so Gwen knew she dreamed. Bethany hadn't shown any other outward sign of it yet.
“You know, Miss Farris, you're quite kind... sharing your room with a Westmorland. No one else in the women's ward had been willing, and you stepped forward without hesitation. Silly superstitions and prejudice on the part of the others, but...” He held his hands up, turning his palms toward the ceiling, but his shoulders didn't shrug at all, the move a bit different than anything she had noticed before. “Still, a kind thing indeed. Please let us know if either of you need anything.”
As seemed to be the habit here, he left without saying goodbye. It seemed that people leaving didn't do that very often, say something as they left, certainly not if they might be coming back within even a few hours. She added this to her internal list of things to notice, just in case there was something to it. It could just be a business, or even a hospital, thing. If not, her saying goodbye all the time could end up being off-putting or maybe even rude. For all she knew saying it the wrong way could be a curse or a death threat or something.
The night nurse came in after dinner and gave her another shot of heroin, which she didn't feel she really needed but made sleeping easier. How people got hooked on the stuff was easy to see, a feeling of warmth and pleasure washed over her after a few seconds, temporarily removing all cares, all worries and left her feeling, good. Happy. She could still think, though nothing seemed all that pressing or important. Gwen was in a different world? Cool. Nothing to worry about there. Not at all. Stabbed in the heart? Well, what's a little stabbing between friends, right? No big thing.
She'd have to watch that. It would be too easy for her to pick up a bad habit like that, in this new situation, which wouldn't do at all. It didn't have to be drugs, it could be almost anything. Too much food, too much of whatever the local entertainment was, anything really. She'd need all her wits here just to survive. Especially if she wanted to help find and take down these killers.
Gwen didn't know the rules here. Not even the little social ones that everyone else took for granted. Who was allowed in the room when, or why everyone seemed uneasy around Bethany, even if the detective did stare a lot. Or for that matter why an obviously handicapped woman was a full detective here. Their version of equal opportunity? She couldn't even begin to understand how much she'd have to learn in order to survive.
One thing she did know though, these killers were like mad dogs. Smiles and friendly behavior or not. Really that had kind of made it worse. They'd killed before and they wouldn't stop until someone stopped them and from what the detectives had said, so far their best lead was Gwen.
So it was up to her to make sure they didn't kill any more innocent people if
she could help it. Whatever that took.
Chapter four
Gwen opened her eyes – the room mainly dark, a figure standing next to her, looming – only the shattering pain in her chest as she rolled toward the figure, throwing a punch with her left fist, caused her to pull back in time. Barely. She could just vaguely make out the form of Bethany, the detective, in the low light that the hospital used at night, probably so that the nurses could check on people without waking them constantly.
“Fuck! Ow, that hurts.” She tried to breathe through the pain, hoping she hadn't ripped anything open with the move. Seeing that the other woman didn't shift at all, not even to step back from her aborted punch, Gwen asked what was wrong.
Her voice sounding better, the other woman answered crisply, far more energetic than before.
“I've worked through several possible scenarios as to what the perpetrators of these killings may do next, and have reduced the most likely actions down to two possibilities. The first is a similar attack, most likely within three days and no more than five miles from the point of your own assault. The second is sooner, but we have no chance of stopping it from happening, lacking time to gather the needed data, so our resources will be better spent on the first possibility.” Then she stood, waiting for something.
Her brain still sleep fogged, Gwen finally understood.
“Right, you need clothes and food. Then some form of transportation back to your... district house. It doesn't look like it's light out yet, so let's see about finding the night nurse. Maybe she can help with some of this?”
Gwen sat up carefully, chest sore from her aborted punch into the other woman's sternum, but otherwise she felt alright, surprisingly. Carefully she hung her feet over the edge of the bed and slid to the floor, the hand rail having been left down on both sides for the last day. That was good, because she still had doubts about being able to work the mechanism on it. She'd looked before, but couldn't find a latch or anything that looked like a catch mechanism at all.
Her legs held, which shocked her a little, after days of bed rest. The sound waves or whatever must have helped her keep her muscle tone at the same time as helping her heal faster. Handy. It meant she could probably go to the bathroom now, instead of using a bed pan. Something worth getting up for. She could go in front of the nurse, but it wasn't exactly her favorite thing. If it had been, she'd be worried about herself.
Walking carefully to the door, she put her head out, looking up and down the hallway. Seeing a nurse, Gwen waved her over and motioned her inside the room, keeping her voice low, in case other people were still sleeping.
“Detective Westmorland had a breakthrough in a pressing case while she slept. She'll need food and her clothing as well as transportation back to her district house. I know that this isn't your job, but since this may literally be a matter of life and death...” Her voice sounded stronger than it had, and she breathed more easily than she'd remembered doing here so far.
The nurse, wide-eyed, nodded and left.
It seemed that the silent nurse felt they needed more for Bethany than what she'd listed off, coming back not only with her clothing, but a small wicker basket of toiletries as well, and told them she'd be back shortly with food.
Gwen still wasn't up to helping her brush her teeth or hair, but the other woman managed just fine when reminded to do something, as if her brain just had so much going on that simple actions had to be coached in her world.
“Bethany, just how much of your mind are you using to figure out this case?” She wondered out loud, not really expecting an answer to such a strange question. It was probably too rude to ask anyway.
The other woman stopped brushing her hair, looked into the distance, and spoke clearly after a few seconds.
“At any given moment, the amount of activity in my mind that addresses some aspect of the case at hand, while in this work mode, approaches ninety-four percent. Not including basic biological functions needed for survival.” Then she stood, brush in hand, waiting again.
“Oh. Remember to finish brushing your hair,” Gwen told her.
Interesting. So, this woman wasn't handicapped at all, not even autistic probably, she simply focused almost all of her processing power on the case at hand, making it nearly impossible for her to do anything else not related to it without someone reminding her. No wonder the others kept talking about her needing a keeper of some kind.
By the time Bethany had finished brushing her teeth, and her hair – which Gwen tried to mimic herself, the hair brushing felt unfamiliar and pulled at her left pectoral muscle more than a bit, even using her right hand for the task – the food came. The nurse brought two trays, each identically filled. It was still early for Gwen, but maybe it was rude to make the other woman eat alone?
She got Bethany to eat all of her food easily enough, simply suggesting she do so.
The other woman merely stood when she was done, not just waiting, she realized, but chasing down every possible lead in her mind somehow. Her standing around didn't mean lack of activity at all, instead it seemed like a sign of hyper-intense focus.
A few minutes later the same nurse returned.
“Ma'am? I've placed a message to the district, the code was left by a detective Chu-an? They're sending someone to retrieve the lady detective as soon as possible. They figure the time at about forty minutes.” Before Gwen could thank her, the woman left.
Gwen climbed back into bed, so that she could remain near the machine that the doctor had told her about, just in case it really worked, and motioned for Bethany to take one of the chairs, since getting into and out of bed fully clothed seemed like a hassle.
They waited in silence. Since Gwen knew that she didn't have any new information, she tried to think through what she'd do if she knew the area a crime might take place in.
A five mile area was huge, searching that kind of area in a city would be nearly impossible unless you had hundreds of people on the task. So first she'd want to try and narrow down the area if possible, finding places similar to the ones the previous killings – sacrifices – had taken place in. If that could be established, if there were a pattern, that could narrow things down. Then if the area were small enough, and if they could find enough manpower, maybe they could find them in time? Just out of curiosity, she asked Bethany if there were any similarities in the sites where the previous murders had happened. It was stupid to let her own boredom interfere with the lady's real work, but she was kind of involved. A little, thanks to being a witness. Not a good reason, but it was all Gwen had for now. She'd have to think of something better if she actually wanted to help and not just be a burden here.
The other woman looked at her for a moment, the look blank and vapid, but the voice that followed had a dull certainty to it, a clear recitation of fact it felt like.
“All took place below ground. Two of them in private dwellings, two in an industrial district with underground storage. The spaces were all converted to the purpose beforehand. The tables, altars most likely, were established as virgin stone, having never been used for ceremonial purposes before. Granite each time.” She stopped talking.
“So, if these tables were of granite, then where did they come from?” This seemed a likely next question to her, but Bethany stood, going more still than she'd seen her.
After nearly a minute, she answered.
“Unknown. There were no manufacturing marks on the stone.”
Gwen frowned.
“I wonder... In my world, a geologist could probably narrow down where a large chunk of stone came from a lot, possibly even to the quarry it came from. If we had that information, maybe we could track them to the supplier. I mean, I suppose it's possible that someone dug them out by hand, but if they were cut, doesn't that take special machinery? It does where I come from.” She shook her head, there were so many things that could be different here, the best she could do at all right now was try to learn what she didn't know.
Trying to pla
y detective here wouldn't work, she just didn't have enough knowledge of things to know what made sense or not. Probably best to just let the woman do her job and try to give her any information she could remember for now. Trying to be Nancy Drew would just be getting in the way. Which was sad. Gwen had always thought she'd make a great girl detective.
They sat in silence until a man she'd never seen before came, the nurse escorting him into the room, seeming more than a little intimidated. Gwen could see why.
He wore a green suit that had a shine, a bit like silk only heavier, a mustache adorned his upper lip, but it wasn't thick enough to hide how his upper lip pulled back in disgust. Gwen knew that kind of expression well, having seen it on the faces of thousands, tens of thousands, of people over the years, directed squarely at her. This time though the man glanced around the room, and focused on Bethany, looking as if he'd rather be almost anywhere else.
“Westmorland, come!” He ordered as if speaking to a dog. A misbehaving dog at that, not a tractable and easily managed one.
