Chapter Five

Seth

Seth had no idea how much time had passed. The car had driven around for what felt like hours. He was certain it had gone round in circles, rather than heading away from the city. When they’d finally stopped, he’d been dragged from the trunk. With one guy on either side of him, Seth was frogmarched across gravel that crunched beneath their boots, until the sound of their footfalls changed to the clunk of hard concrete. A rattle and a bang came from behind him; he guessed from a large door on runners pulled shut. Was he in a warehouse or a factory of some kind?

The handcuffs were removed briefly, so they could take his camera and leather jacket. They didn’t remove the hood, so he had no clue what they did with them. He guessed they were searching his jacket, probably for any trace of the photos he’d taken ten years earlier. They probably wanted his camera for the same reason. Knowing he no longer had the memory card didn’t make him feel safe.

They pulled his hands behind his back again and slapped the handcuffs on, and then forced him down to his knees. His ankles were tied together with zip-ties, and then both sets of bonds were joined, so he couldn’t stand, let alone run. He heard someone shuffling around him for several minutes and then the footsteps wandered away. From the way they echoed, the building felt vast and empty, solidifying his theory of it being a warehouse.

He didn’t have the energy to panic anymore. He’d done enough of that in the trunk of the car when he’d kicked and screamed until his throat was hoarse. Even the darkness of the hood seemed less terrifying. In effect, he was already dead. What he didn’t know was when and how he would die. It felt almost futile to be afraid.

Would he be shot in the back of the head, execution style, as his neighbor had been? At least that would be quick, wouldn’t it? He wouldn’t feel much of anything. Maybe a sharp shock of pain before oblivion.

Choking back a sob, he realized he’d been trying to lie to himself. He was terrified. He didn’t want to die; he wasn’t ready to die. The inevitability of it only served to make him feel angrier at himself. If he’d done something with the photos ten years ago, maybe everything would have turned out differently. But then, he could beat himself up with regrets all he liked; it wasn’t going to change his fate. And those regrets would do nothing to comfort or console him in his last moments.

By the time he was aware of voices and movement again, his legs and arms were numb. Slow, measured footsteps moved towards him, altering in pace and weight briefly, before he heard the squeak of leather and the click of bones and felt the presence of someone immediately beside him. The hood was loosened and tugged off his head. Seth blinked against the sudden flood of light, temporarily unable to see. When his vision cleared, he saw the Doctor, crouching beside him, leering at him.

As he’d suspected, he was inside a warehouse which had massive flood lights hanging from the ceiling high above his head. The floor was covered in a layer of dust and grime, disturbed by several sets of footprints, including his own. There were also weird symbols traced in the dirt. One looked like a compass; another was a long line with a box at either end. He had no clue what they were for, or what they might mean, but as best as he could tell, they surrounded him in a circle. Trying to figure out their purpose left him even more terrified. Was the Doctor involved with some sort of occult group, rather than the Mob?

“Seth.” The Doctor spoke in a low voice, the single word menacing enough to send an icy shiver racing down Seth’s spine.

He narrowed his eyes and returned the Doctor’s cold stare, trying to banish any trace of fear from his face.

“You have something I want,” the Doctor informed him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The Doctor smiled cruelly. “I thought you’d say that.”

He fished a medical tourniquet out of his jacket pocket and grabbed Seth’s arm. Seth tried to pull away, but it was a pointless endeavor. His bonds held him too tightly. Not that it was going to stop him from showing defiance; it was all he had left. The Doctor pushed Seth’s long T-shirt sleeve up and then secured the tourniquet tightly around his upper arm. Next, he withdrew a large syringe out of his other pocket.

“Do you know what happens when you inject an air bubble into a vein?” he asked, pulling back the plunger to fill the syringe with air.

Seth shook his head, his mouth going dry. “Not much,” the Doctor told him. “Probably. Your lungs would deal with the bubble. There’s a minimal chance of death.” He smacked the inside of Seth’s bare arm, beneath the tourniquet. “But do you know what happens if you inject an air bubble into an artery?”

Seth didn’t want to know.

“It blocks your coronary artery. If that happens, your heart keeps trying to pump, but it stops receiving blood. And when that happens…” He smiled. “I can promise you it’s a painful way to die. It should come as no surprise to you that it was a method used by Nazi doctors to euthanize patients in mental institutions, after gassing was deemed to be too inhumane.”

Seth ground his teeth together as his whole body shook. He was torn between anger and fear. How could one man be so cold and cruel? A man who had sworn to save lives?

“Of course, arteries can be pesky to find,” the Doctor said, inspecting Seth’s arm closely. “But then, I am a doctor. I have intimate knowledge of the human body.”

“Why don’t you just shoot me?” Seth asked, his voice trembling.

The Doctor laughed. “My methods have become much more refined in the last ten years. Bullet wounds are so messy. Don’t you think? All that blood and brain matter and police investigations. Heart attacks, on the other hand, generally get classed as ‘natural circumstances,’ even in someone of your tender age.”

Seth wanted his ordeal to be over. The longer it dragged on, the higher chance he would reveal to the Doctor what he’d done with the memory card. He couldn’t let that happen. Knowing he was dead anyway meant he had very little to lose in pissing the Doctor off.

“You killed Doctor Carmichael, didn’t you?”

“Yes. Ah, found it.”

There was a sharp scratch as the Doctor plunged the point of the needle into Seth’s arm. His thumb hovered over the plunger.

“Air bubbles can be a problem for divers,” he informed Seth. “If they come up too quickly, hundreds of tiny air bubbles form that can block capillaries in vital organs. It causes a lot of pain and can cause brain damage or even paralysis. In extreme cases, it can be fatal. Do you know what the cure is?”

Seth shook his head. He could feel his chin trembling as he fought to hold back tears of dread. He wouldn’t break down in front of this evil man; he wouldn’t crack.

“A hyperbaric chamber.” He pressed the plunger down slowly and then pulled the needle free.

Seth felt nothing. No pain. His heart rate didn’t increase. There was no dizziness. He felt exactly the same as he had moments before: scared, his arms and legs numb from cramp.

“Right now, the tourniquet is preventing the air bubble from traveling any further. If you could get to a hospital with a hyperbaric chamber, you might survive.” He smiled in what Seth guessed was supposed to be a kind gesture, but looked ugly instead. “It just so happens that the Metropolitan Hospital has one. And, of course, I can ensure you receive prompt treatment. If you give me those photos, Seth.”

Seth set his jaw into a hard line as he stared at the Doctor. He wasn’t stupid. He knew he wasn’t going to walk away from this, despite the man’s promises. He was a loose end, someone who knew too much, a problem that had to disappear.

“Where are they, Seth?”

“I don’t have them anymore.” Seth spat the words at the Doctor’s face.

“Did you give them to someone?”

“I don’t have them anymore.”

“Did you make copies of the memory card?”

“I don’t have them anymore.” How many times would he have to repeat the same words, before the Doctor put him out of his misery?

The Doctor’s eyebrows pinched together and his mouth twisted into a snarl. He grabbed Seth’s hair, pulling his head back so sharply it sent a twinge of pain coursing down his neck and spine.

“Tell me what you did with the memory card. We’ve checked the one in your camera.”

“I lived on the streets for years,” Seth said through teeth gritted against the pain. “The memory card got wrecked a long time ago. Water damage. It’s hard to stay dry in the rain when you haven’t even got a coat. I tossed it.”

“Liar,” the Doctor hissed. “That camera... it’s the same one you had ten years ago, isn’t it?”

Seth simply stared at him. He’d always been a lousy liar, and the more he tried to spin a story, the easier it would be for the Doctor to see through him.

“So how did you manage to protect your camera from the elements and not a tiny memory card?”

Seth shrugged. “I guess I was just careless.”

The Doctor pushed Seth’s head forward, so his chin crashed against his chest, clashing his teeth together.

“I’m losing patience, Seth. Just tell me where the memory card is, or the photos if you printed them, and I’ll make sure you get the treatment you need to save your life.”

Seth curled his upper lip, to show his disbelief in the Doctor’s assurances. “I don’t have it anymore.”

The Doctor kept going, asking him question after question, many repetitions. Seth replied with the same five words, over and over until he’d lost count of the number of times he’d uttered them. He was tired. He could no longer feel his arm below where the tourniquet sat, not even the heavy numbness from before. He wanted it all to end.

“I’m very disappointed in you, Seth,” the Doctor said. “I thought you’d have been more cooperative than this. I thought you wanted to live.” Seth did, but he knew that wasn't an option. It hadn’t been an option since the moment the Doctor’s men found him. It had been stupid of him to try to leave town via the bus station. By going there, he’d signed his own death warrant. For some reason he couldn’t fathom, his mouth curled into a smile and he started to laugh. It wasn’t a happy sound, but a tired maniacal one, as he realized he’d been a dead man walking for the last ten years, ever since the moment the Doctor had seen him for the first time.

“You’re not going to help yourself, then?” the Doctor asked, shaking his head. “You’re going to make me kill you?”

That made Seth laugh even harder. “You were always going to kill me. You murdered Doctor Carmichael to get his job. Why would you feel any pang of guilt over killing me?”

The Doctor pursed his lips. His fingers grazed the clip that held the tourniquet secure. “I’m going to give you one last chance, Seth. You can save yourself. What did you do with the photos?”

Seth spat in the Doctor’s face, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction as he watched his spittle dripping down the man’s nose and cheek, toward his mouth. The Doctor flicked open the clip, releasing the pressure on Seth’s arm. Almost instantly, his arm tingled painfully as feeling returned to his arm and fingers, and blood started flowing freely in and out of the limb.

The Doctor signaled to his men, and then stood and walked away. Seth stared dumbly at the thugs, as they used their feet to sweep the strange sigils away. His breathing was becoming labored, as he couldn’t quite catch his breath. Cold sweat broke out on his skin as they untied him. They strode away, taking every trace of their presence with them and slamming the door behind them. It felt like a giant was sitting on his chest, crushing him. He tried to stand, but collapsed to the floor, where he curled up, clutching his numb arms to his chest.

Images swam in and out of his mind: of his neighbor’s execution; of the Doctor’s callous smile; of years spent shivering and alone in the dark of the streets. But Nelson, Lacey, Joe, and Cal were also there, as was the man with the most amazing blue eyes. It was the memory he fought to cling to; the one that, for a reason he couldn’t even begin to understand, gave him the most comfort as black spots crowded his vision.

Tears sprang into his eyes and, with the picture of Blue Eyes held fast in his mind like a precious photo, he gave in to the fear and the pain.