I let the cops cuff me.
Garrick protests loudly. He wants to stay with me, keep a film crew on me.
Donny comes at me. Grinning. Something flashes in his hand. A needle. The police push me away as the Fancher director takes the microphone. The Fancher director makes an apology to the gathered press. As the police push me away, under instructions from Donny, it seems, I hear the Fancher director using words like “unstable.” And “mentally ill and dangerous.”
Yelling. Garrick is being cuffed and taken away, yelling about lawyers.
Reporters trail us as we head to the Fancher van. Cops bar the way.
The van.
I know that van. It’s more than a cage on wheels. It’s a fortress on wheels. Seeing it nearly breaks my spirit, and I think maybe I should’ve fought, that maybe Ann is wrong about trust and light.
A sharp bite on my arm. The needle. I feel Donny’s breath on the back of my neck as the numbness spreads.
I meet his eyes. He smiles as spots cloud my vision, as I’m pulled along.
I stumble, limbs sluggish. I’m unused to the drugs. Or maybe he’s increased my dose.
Probably both.
Donny oversees the orderlies who shove me down onto the padded bench. They chain my ankles to the ring on the floor. They chain my handcuffed wrists to the bar that runs along the side.
I yank in fury, desperately trying to free myself. They close the cage and then the outer door.
Darkness. Confusion.
We’re on the move. I focus on sounds. There’s a siren behind us, and one in front of us.
Taking no chances with me. The savage. Drugged and bound once again.
My limbs feel dead. It makes me want to give up. I try to remember the feeling of sunshine. I try to remember the feeling of Ann.
I remember about working against the drug. Vigorous activity.
I yank and struggle, clanking the cuffs and chains. My lips begin to feel fat. My thoughts slow. I fight on with everything I have.
I tell myself that if I don’t stop, the drugs will take over. It’s a big dose, maybe too big, but I fight like crazy, thinking about Ann. I have to get back there. I pull and pull, feeling the cuffs cut into my skin. My wrists feel warm. Blood.
I don’t care. Nothing matters except getting out. I have to get back to Ann.
I rail and bellow as we speed down the highway to the Fancher Institute. It’s where we’ll go.
Or somewhere worse.
I yank and yank. I know I’m wearing myself out. I just need my alertness back.
I think the hopelessness I feel makes the drugs worse. The hopelessness makes my limbs feel heavy. I tell myself to keep fighting.
I fight to exhaustion, and then I collapse. It’s just me in the darkness, breath heavy. The sirens have stopped. There’s only the hum of tires. The engine.
The van takes a violent turn.
Or maybe it’s my equilibrium.
I fold forward, head over the floor, arms stretched out behind me, shoulders nearly out of their sockets. It’s here I realize one good thing: Ann’s finally safe. My enemies surely know I’m away from her, that I can’t get to her. They have no more reason to go after her.
I press my forehead to my knees, hanging, swaying.