Free By Any Name by Katherine John Page A

floor,’ West qualified. ‘Back off. If as much as a shadow crosses my path I’ll kill Dr Santer. You have thirty seconds to clear this stairwell.’
    ‘We need more time… ’
    ‘You don’t have it.’ West twisted his thumb into the soft flesh at the base of Elizabeth’s neck. A shaft of pain shot through her spine and she screamed.
    ‘Everyone back! Clear the stairwell!’ was repeatedly echoed below them. West knew that all the exits on the ground floor would be heavily guarded but all he could think about was negotiating his way down. He proceeded slowly one step at a time, studying every inch of ground he’d have to cross before he came to it.
    Elizabeth gripped the wheelchair’s arms with her fingers, barely aware of the pain in her wrists and ankles. Closing her eyes, she concentrated with all her might on an image of Joseph, alive, and smiling. If only he could be there, waiting for her when they reached the ground floor. She conjured an image of his mouth curved into a smile, remembered the laughter lines at the corners of his green eyes…
    The steel muzzle knocked against her skull bringing her sharply back to the present.
    She opened her eyes. They had reached the bottom. The grey afternoon light had been superseded by murky black night, transforming the windows into misty wavering mirrors. They faced a plaster wall. A red arrow pointed to the basement. Alongside were painted the words SERVICES and MORTUARY.
    West nudged the wheelchair against the door, and yelled, ‘Fall back.’
    Muffled footsteps scuttled away.
    He hit Elizabeth lightly with the gun. ‘Which is the quickest way to the outside?’
    ‘Straight ahead, then first right.’
    ‘If you’re lying… ’
    ‘You’ll shoot me?’ She hoped she sounded braver than she felt. ‘I can only die once.’
    ‘It’s not death but the way you die that matters. I could leave you a brain damaged, dribbling, incontinent wreck.’ He pushed the wheelchair out into the ground-floor corridor. ‘Cross my path and she’s dead.’ He raised his hand so the Browning could be seen.
    Someone ahead shouted, ‘Fall back!’
    They moved on and Elizabeth read the names on the doors and the signs on the wall, as though she were seeing them for the first time; PATHOLOGY, X-RAY, ORTHOPAEDIC CLINIC. She looked down and saw the lines on the floor; blue for X-ray, red for pathology, yellow for… What was yellow for?
    Another sign, TREATMENT ROOM. West halted and kicked in the door without warning. ‘Move out.
    Now!’
    A soldier in fatigues emerged. He lifted his gun above his head.
    ‘Drop it,’ West ordered.
    He complied and West shot him. The man crumpled to the floor, clutching his knee. West opened the door with his back, kicked the soldier’s gun inside, and heaved the wheelchair in behind him.
    Elizabeth closed her eyes, and wished the nightmare would end.
    She heard West breathing heavily behind her.
    Directly in front of them was a treatment cubicle containing a couch and a trolley set out with swabs, scissors and the familiar paraphernalia of casualty.
    She recognized the grating of bolts being thrust down into the floor when West secured the door. The pressure of the gun on her forehead eased as he leaned forward and picked up a scalpel from the tray.
    ‘I’d rather you killed me with the gun.’
    The razor-sharp metal slashed downwards. He freed her from the wheelchair. But when she tried to rise, he pushed her down before gathering up bandages and plaster from the tray.
    ‘No! In God’s name no!’ It was the last sound she made. Her eyes widened in terror as he wound a bandage tightly around her head and between her lips.
    He forced her teeth apart and the material rasped against her tongue, its antiseptic taste fouling her mouth.
    He fixed the bandage in place with a plaster, before covering her with a suffocating blanket that blotted everything from view. Wrenching her unceremoniously to her feet, he hauled her hands high behind her back