Inside Man | ONC2023

5. Memory Man

(Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated to Nyhterides and her dark paranormal story for the ONC2023, My Dark Beloved. This is the sixth ONC for both of us!)

"Open Up! Patrol!"

Paul flinched at the unexpected noise. Strangely, his first reaction was to hunt around for an escape but he knew that was just adrenaline kicking in. After all, he had been on the verge of notifying the authorities himself a moment ago. Although, how had they known to come here before he called? Never mind, he was sure they would tell him soon enough.

"Coming!" he called out, as he went to the front of the apartment and opened the door. Two men wearing Patrol greys stood there, poised for action, weapons drawn.

"Patrol Officers Neill and Keeve. Step back inside, sir, and put your hands against the wall," ordered Neill, the shorter of the two, pointing his stunner at Paul.

Obediently, Paul complied and felt himself patted down briskly.

"Clean." The officer continued, "Please remain here while we check the apartment."

Paul waited, his pulse quickening, under the watchful gaze of Keeve while Neill made a quick search of the remaining rooms. He was back in a couple of minutes.

"All clear... except for the dead body in the bedroom!" he announced, grimly. "Now, sir, let's take this from the top, shall we? Your name?"

Paul opened his mouth to answer and froze. What the fuck was his name? He had no idea.

He swallowed and cleared his throat. He looked from one to the other. "I'm sorry, officers, this is going to sound crazy, but I don't know. I overdid it last night and whatever I drank has messed with my head as well as my stomach."

"You're joking, right?" demanded Keeve, disbelief written all over his face.

"I'm afraid not. And before you ask, I have no idea who the man in the other room is, either."

"He was a casual date? Where did you pick him up, then?"

Paul tried hard, surely he must remember where the party had been or the pub he had gone to, but nothing came to him. His head felt as if it was stuffed with grey fog. Why couldn't he remember?

"I don't know. Sorry, but I just can't recall. In fact, I can't remember anything before I woke up a short while ago." Panic rose, along with the bile in his stomach. "Sorry!"

Hand covering his mouth, Paul made a dash for the bathroom.

Keeve and Neill exchanged looks.

"Seems like our first stop is going to be the Medic Centre."

"I agree. At least they should be able to tell us what he's taken."

"And hopefully whether this loss of memory is real or feigned."

"I can't help wondering whether the dead guy took the same stuff? We might have our cause of death right there."

Keeve nodded in agreement.

As if on cue, there was a knock outside. "Forensic Team!"

Neill opened the apartment door to admit two forensic officers in coveralls, and the medic who had come to examine the body.

"Ah, Medic Aldous, good to see you again," said Neill, pleased to see an expert he recognised. A short, slightly built woman, she exuded professionalism. Her loose fitting olive-green trousers were fastened around the ankles to avoid contamination and her white shirt was crisp and clean. She carried a small bag.

"We have two customers for you," Neill told her. "A dead body in the bedroom and a live one in the bathroom, throwing up. I wonder whether you might have a quick look at him first? He doesn't know what he's taken, but he says whatever it was has caused him to lose his memory. We thought perhaps we should take him direct to the Medic Centre."

"I think that's wise," Aldous agreed. "It's hard to tell precisely what substance was ingested by someone without proper analysis, and there are a couple of new drugs doing the rounds at present... it might be one of those. The memory loss is worrying. Short term amnesia in the hours immediately following ingestion of certain drugs is, unfortunately, not uncommon, but complete memory loss is something else. I'll just pop in and do a quick examination before you take him to the Centre."

She went over to the bathroom and knocked lightly on the door. It wasn't fully closed and she could see a man kneeling on the floor, clutching the sides of the toilet. The retching appeared to have ceased, at least for the moment.

"Sir? I'm a medic. Are you able to stand?"

Paul rose rather unsteadily to his feet, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Sorry about that," he apologized, "I'll be with you in a minute." He washed his hands thoroughly in the sink and ran a handful of water over his face.

A tall man, he towered over the shorter medic. Under the circumstances she might have felt threatened—alone in a small room with a potential murderer—but the pale, sweaty appearance of his face reassured her that he wasn't going to be making a run for it any time soon. He needed help.

"If you wouldn't mind sitting down, I'll check your vitals, if that's okay."

"Thank you." Paul closed the toilet seat lid and sank wearily onto it.

Medic Aldous took his blood pressure and various other measurements, including a swab of the inside of his cheek.

"I'll get that analysed and see if we can tell what caused all this," she told him, as she placed the swab inside a small device she took from her bag. "A mini spectrometer," she explained.

"We should have the results in a moment. Can someone please bring us a beaker of water?" she called over her shoulder. "That's probably the safest treatment until we have a diagnosis," she told Paul.

She studied the small screen while Officer Keeve passed Paul the water.

"Hmm, that's interesting, not something I've come across before," murmured Aldous. "I won't bore you with the technicalities but I can tell you it wasn't alcohol. You've ingested a nasty cocktail of drugs. Most of them are commercially available, but not in combination like this."

She turned to Keeve who was standing by. "I think we should get this man to the Medic Centre as soon as possible. I'll forward my results to the triage nurse so they'll be ready for him. In my opinion, he's lucky to be alive."