There Will Be Killing Read Free Page A

his agitation towards burning him up in his own skin.”
    As Margie saw to the injection, Thibeaux continued to soothe Waters in a lullaby voice until the drugs kicked in, mercifully quick, then promptly ushered the group “right this way” as if they were being led to a cotillion ball rather than another hospital bed, fully occupied, eerily silent.
    â€œWe have here Lieutenant Bill Wilson. Just brought in two days ago from Pleiku.” Solicitously, “How are you, Lieutenant?”
    Wilson stared up at the ceiling, unblinking, his eyes fixed on something no one else could see.
    Clap, clap! The sharp strike of Thibeaux’ palms next to Wilson’s ear produced nothing, not even a flinch. Next Thibeaux shouted, “Look out!”
    Israel ducked, covering his head with the hands he struggled to get under control.
    Someone softly touched his shoulder. “It’s okay.” Gregg’s voice.
    Israel forced his hands from his head and behind his back, the substance of jelly. Then Margie caught his gaze. She was looking at him with a kind of knowing look. Even if he couldn’t force more than a grimace in response to her little smile, Israel was grateful. Thank god , he thought, there is someone else here as scared as me.
    â€œObserve.” Thibeaux gently lifted Wilson’s arm high into the air, released. It stayed there, a mannequin pose.
    â€œAs you can see, Lieutenant Wilson exhibits classic catatonic features. The waxy flexibility of his limbs and the nonresponsiveness to sensory stimulation confirms this diagnosis. Lieutenant Wilson was found in the field, sitting there, just like this. He has yet to speak. Every man around him in the field had been killed. Clearly, they are not speaking either regarding what happened to instigate this extraordinary condition.”
    â€œWilson is our newest arrival and will likely be sent out within a week, Dr. Moskowitz,” explained Colonel Kohn. “We have only seven days or less with the patients. If they are admitted here, they are almost always acute and severe and if we do not think that we can get them back to duty within seven days then they are sent out to Japan.”
    Thibeaux lowered Wilson’s arm, touched him warmly on his shoulder, a sincere “thank you, Bill,” and he moved on to the next bed where another poor soul, in full leather restraints on his wrists and ankles, slept heavily. His face was calm, at peace, and Israel could see that he was just a big boy.
    â€œCorporal Kim Sellers,” Margie announced, handing Thibeaux another metal clad chart.
    â€œCorporal Sellers is completely restrained and heavily sedated with good cause,” Thibeaux continued, as though lectures in catatonia and demonstration lessons of deep compassion were just a typical day’s work. “This man is extremely agitated. He is paranoid and he is violent. We have dangerous jobs here, Dr. Moskowitz. The KO down in Saigon lost their psychiatrist, a social worker and a specialist six months ago. They weren’t the first and they won’t be the last.”
    â€œLost?” Israel noticed the group was very quiet. “How were they lost?”
    â€œThey were killed by a patient. And unless we want to risk the same fate, we must all be most careful with our Corporal here. He is quite dangerous to himself—and to you. And you … and you.” Thibeaux’ finger pointing down the line ended with Israel, before Thibeaux jabbed the air a good distance from the unconscious Sellers, as if he didn’t trust the corporal’s teeth from taking a body part while the rest of him slept. “Watch him. We will keep him heavily sedated, but do not turn your backs to him if you get him up to the toilet or you are feeding him or bathing him. The medication will slow him but he is a tied up tiger. And he will not hesitate to take you down.”
    Israel willed himself to detach again, but he couldn’t. His