Technomancer (Unspeakable Things: Book One)

to take matters into my own hands. I recomposed myself upon the bed and waited in approximately the same position I had been when the nurse had last looked in on me.
    It didn’t take long. Less than ten minutes later, she was at the door again, peering in. This time, she didn’t retreat. She stepped inside, having obviously decided to freshen my drugs whether the old bag was empty or not. She was Hispanic, about thirty years old, and good-looking. Her brunette hair was cut short, but remained feminine. Her eyes were a reddish-gold rather than brown.
    As she approached, my eyes snapped open.
    “What can I do for you?” I asked.
    “Oh, hello…,” she said. “I have to adjust your medication.”
    I revealed the needle and the tube connected to it. The plastic tube drooped and the needle at the tip gleamed. “You mean this?”
    “You pulled it out?”
    “Apparently.”
    She sighed. “We’re going to have to put that back into a fresh vein now.”
    “I don’t think so.”
    “Don’t be difficult, Mr. Draith.”
    “I’m known for being difficult,” I said, feeling in my bones it was true.
    She licked her lips and eyed me for a moment. She took the old bag down from the hook over my bed. She examined it critically. “How long ago did you…? Your medication is dangerously low. You may be suffering from withdrawal symptoms.”
    “Withdrawal? It’s far too early for that. What is that stuff you’ve been pumping into me, anyway?”
    “The doctor does not appreciate this kind of—”
    “Send him around then. I want to talk to him anyway.”
    “
She
won’t be back until the morning shift.”
    I nodded. “Good enough, but tell her to hurry. I’ll be checking out today.”
    “What?” she asked, shaking her head. “That’s impossible. You’ve got seven broken bones and there was internal bleeding. I can’t understand how you’re able to sit up.”
    “I always heal fast,” I said. For some reason, I could remember that detail of my previous life.
    “Mr. Draith, your lack of cooperation is not appreciated. I have a hard enough job here without this nonsense. I have a fresh needle, and we’re going to start this line again now.”
    “Sorry,” I said, shaking my head.
    “Are you afraid of needles or something?”
    “I’m only afraid of what people can put into them.”
    I stared into her face, and she looked troubled for a moment. I took the time to read her name tag.
    “Miranda,” I said. “Don’t get yourself into more trouble than you’re already in.”
    Her eyes widened, then narrowed again. She moved her hands quickly, and I should have seen it coming, but I didn’t. She reached up and pressed a call button over my head. I moved to grab her wrist, but halted. What was done was done. I knitted my fingers behind my head and leaned back against the headboard.
    “You shouldn’t have done that,” I said.
    I watched her lip-glossed mouth tighten. “You’re going to have your medication, Mr. Draith,” she said.
    I gave her a confident smile in return. “We’ll see.”
    The nurse left without another word. I stared at her as she exited the room, but I was too worried to enjoy the view. After she was gone, I wondered if I’d been a fool. Maybe I should have taken her hostage. The trouble was, I didn’t think it would work. I had no weapons—I didn’t even have clothes.
    The next face to appear at the rectangular window was much less to my liking. Made all of harsh angles and beetling brows, the orderly had muscles that jumped in his cheek as he peered in at me. He rattled the door and opened it, watching me warily. I lay on the bed as before, seemingly relaxed and unconcerned.
    He was dressed in ugly surgical green. He looked like a TV wrestler, and his face was acne-scarred. He stepped inside with the attitude of a man stepping into a tiger cage. I could have looked at his name tag, but I didn’t care to know his name. I simply stared at him, smiling with my mouth but not my eyes.
    He let the door click behind him. Instead of needles, he had a tangle of black straps in his hands. The straps had a number of clips like those used on backpacks. There weretwo blue circles of thick cloth as well. Those, I imagined, were to go around my wrists. My heart accelerated in my chest.
    “All right, Mr. Draith, give me your wrists,” he said.
    “How much do they pay you for this?” I asked.
    That threw him for a moment. He blinked at me. “What?”
    “Keeping people drugged against