Day 43: Intercom, Dawn
Good morning, and welcome to your personalized tour of Landel's Institute! My name is I.R.I.S. and I will be your automated guide during your stay here. If you have any specific questions during our tour, please direct them to the personal console in your welcome bag. We will do our very best to address any concerns you may have
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As with many nights in the recent past, he found himself swimming in and out of dreams of his childhood: clutching at Mr. Wammy's hand as the February snow fell around them, Winchester's cathedral bells ringing not far away. He was small, and to him, the world was an overcoat, gray pavement, stone walls and iron gates.
What set this night apart from the others was the way in which his slumber was smooth and uninterrupted: for the first time in many nights, Yagami did not traipse through his dreams, mocking him, and L did not wake with a start from a nightmare in which pain bloomed around his heart.
Instead, the intercom did not immediately wake him, and waking felt like rising from a pleasant haze. The first sensation he registered was a cool, smooth white sheet against his face, hospital-stiff; then, the intimation of a narrower bed than the one he'd gone to sleep in. He will always wonder how long it took him to identify and process the fact that something was wrong -- a few seconds? Ten? What cued him?
In moments when he feels compelled to blame himself, he will tell himself that he should have understood it in an instant, because the smell was so different from that of the bedroom in his current headquarters. Everything there had the odor of recent construction... fresh paint, wallpaper paste, new upholstered furniture and the off-gassing of the carpets, nothing more than a few months old... but this room's scent was clean and medicinal, with a whiff of chlorine.
He opened his eyes, pressing the lids together to try to achieve focus more quickly. His vision was excellent, once the customary blurriness cleared, but what he saw didn't help: a room which, in every way, appeared to be a hospital room of some kind. He rolled to his back, then sat up to look around. There was a wall to his left, a desk at the foot of the narrow metal bed, a closet just past it.
The thoughts tumbled through his mind: Am I ill? Was it Kira? In any event, I do not feel ill or injured. Why am I here alone, and why do I have no memory of a decision to come here, or the journey itself? I have been abducted...? Maybe, but it is equally possible that I'm in some sort of infimary.
If that is the case, how did I lose consciousness, and who brought me here? If I have been abducted... who? Why, and why now? Who would have reason to both abduct me and keep me alive?
Looking down, he realized that he was no longer wearing his own clothing.
"Watari?" The rising panic in his voice was obvious to him, so he pushed it back, hard, with the same rigorous expectation of self-control that he would have in any other situation. Breathe these: One. Two. Three. The next attempt came out in a calm tone, expressing nothing but idle curiosity about his handler's whereabouts: "Watari?"
Watari didn't come, and L's heart began to sink, buoyed up only by his rising anger.
There had been the voice on the intercom, while he was still mostly asleep; he tried to recall what it had said, but most of it was lost. One thing he could remember from a few minutes earlier was the sensation of something hard under the pillow, so he turned and lifted it, to find a durable-looking flashlight, which he picked up, hefting it. It had some weight to it.
No windows, he thought, and no way to tell what time it is, but maybe I can --
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"You're awake!" she said, then looked down at his feet. "Why don't you have your slippers on yet? You heard the intercom: you have a choice of the sun room, the chapel, or brunch."
His stare was more oppressive than fascinated. "Please tell me where I am."
She looked at him as if this was a strange query. "You're at Landel's."
"Who is Landel?"
"The doctor. He'll be able to help you. We all will, and maybe you'll be better soon."
Better? thought L, who was not aware that anything was wrong with him to begin with. It is obvious that this is some kind of medical scenario; it is also obvious that this woman either is a nurse, or is pretending to be one. They would have a way of dealing with unruly patients even if they are not what they appear to be.
"All of you?" he asked, in his low, polite tone. "How many of you are there?"
"Oh -- " she smiled, looking a little impatient -- "Enough to help you with whatever you need. We have orderlies, too."
The idea of attacking the young woman was tempting; however, it would only be a good idea if the "medical" analogy went no further than the door of this room -- if it were a set-piece in a vacuum, with no guards, no one else to fight, no guns. Because she seemed willing to lead him from the room to one of a few proscribed activities, it was obvious to him that the hospital atmosphere must extend to at least several corridors, if not the entire structure that they were in.
The only way to find out whether or not she was telling the truth about the other "staff members" would be to accompany her and look for them. Further observation might supply L with the information he would need to break out of captivity, or it might show him why an attempt at escape would be a disastrous plan on his part.
He slipped down from the bed, setting his feet on the floor.
"You can't go anywhere without your slippers," the woman reiterated, in her pleasant tone. "On your closet floor." She gestured towards the door.
Watching her from the corner of his eye, and with a hint of mild annoyance at being forced into footwear, he padded around to the closet. There, among other things, he found several pairs of slippers. After slipping them onto his feet, he smiled at her, a bright, false, close-mouthed smile.
"Please take me to the sun room, Miss -- ?"
"Nurse Carter. Right this way."
All his senses tuned to his surroundings, he followed her out of the room.
[to here.]
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