Tunnels 04, Closer

over, he stuck the needle several times into the palm. He moved on to the fingertips where he did the same, each jab drawing little spots of blood. All the time he was scrutinizing Mrs. Burrows' face, trying to discern whether there was any response to the stimuli. "Nothing," he muttered, and finished the exercise by sticking the needle deep into the back of her hand, where he left it. It seemed a little unnecessary to the Second Officer, who opened his mouth to say something, but then thought better of it.
    Taking a step back the doctor grimaced. "No, it's as I expected -- there's no sign of any improvement."
    A wizened old man with a grey beard, the doctor wore a black frock coat over a waistcoat that was almost the same color as his beard. And his clothing had various splatter marks on it, which might very well have been dried blood. He began to make tutting noises as he returned his light, a thermometer and a set of reflex hammers to his valise. It was clear the examination was over.
    Beside the doctor, the Second Officer rocked on the balls of his feet, the floorboards creaking under his not inconsiderable weight. He'd been observing the doctor perform the medical procedures without any comprehension, much as a dog watches a card trick. "but isn't there anything more that can be done for her?" he ventured, staring at Mrs. Burrows' motionless body. The room, formerly the sitting room, had been turned over for her care, and a bed had been installed in one corner. Mrs. Burrows herself was propped up in a wicker bath chair, an ancient contraption on three wheels.
    The regular ticking of the grandfather clock continued as the doctor took his time to coil up his stethoscope and replace it in his valise. Still he said nothing as he shut the valise, pressing the catches each in turn. Once this was done, he tucked his hand into his coat pocket, and struck a pose as if he was about to address an audience of his peers.
    "Is there anything that can be done for the patient?" he intoned, as he turned toward Mrs. Burrows. The saliva collecting behind her slightly protruding bottom lip chose that precise moment to overflow, and a long treacly string of it seeped from her mouth and extended toward her chest.
    "Well, we can make sure the patient is comfortable, and continue to administer the Pinkham's twice a day," the doctor said, watching as the saliva pooled on Mrs. Burrows' front, spreading through the weave of the cotton blouse which was far too big for her. The doctor drew in a breath as he swiveled his head to the Second Officer. "If you need some more Pinkham's from the apothecary, I can write you a script."
    "No, we have a few bottles left," the Second Officer replied.
    "Very good. And here's the bill for my services. Pay it when you can," the doctor said, as he whisked a folded slip of paper from his waistcoat pocket and handed it to the Second Officer.
    The Second Officer had been about to look at the bill, but a forced cough made him half turn to the hallway, where his mother and sister had been listening to the proceedings. Out of sight of the doctor, they both started to gesticulate wildly, prompting the Second Officer to broach the question he had been avoiding until then. He cleared his throat. "Doctor, she's survived this long, hasn't she, against all odds? Don't you think that she might get a little better, with time?"
    The doctor stroked his beard thoughtfully. "It's a miracle that the patient's still with us, I grant you that," he answered. "But one cannot argue with the facts. While the patient is able to breathe for herself, there's not the remotest chance that she'll recover her cognitive functions. She demonstrates no reflex responses whatsoever -- none at all -- her pupils are completely non-reactive." The doctor screwed one eye shut as if what he was about to say was difficult for him. "I presume you thought you were doing her an act of kindness bringing her here. But it might have been kinder to let her slip away peacefully after the interrogation."
    "I couldn't just leave her to die in the Hold," he Second Officer said. "There've been too many done that already."
    The doctor nodded grimly. "But sometimes nature should be allowed to take its course. You told me that her ordeal was one of the most severe you've ever witnessed?"
    "It was," the Second Officer confirmed. "They used as many as seven Dark Lights on her."
    "You are better placed than most to know what damage those contraptions can exact. The