PATIENT-X - JASON RONIN (ebook reader screen .TXT) 📗

and said, “What do you remember Jason?”

Jason looked at Shaun for the first time since entering the office.

“He’s right Dr I think I did, but it’s all so confused in my head”

He then proceeded to explain what had happened since receiving the knock on the door at his apartment, and culminating with blacking out when Shaun had attacked him. The Dr interrupted a few times with questions. Shaun listened to all this with a quiet incredulity, here he sat within arm’s reach of his friends assassin and the Dr was acting as if he was in session with him, discussing his mental issues. Shaun could take it no more, a deep seething anger was building inside him, and he jumped up startling both men.

“This is bullshit Dr!” his face was red as blood flooded his face with the anger he felt, “This man is probably the most wanted man in the world right now, you need to call the Police not have a friendly chat”

“You need to calm down Mr Kane,” something in the Dr’s voice stopped Shaun in his tracks and he sat back down, glaring at the two of them.

“I empathise with the way you feel,” Dr Danson said, “But I have a few things to tell the both of you, things you need to know, and Mr Kane if you want me to call the police after I have finished, it will be my pleasure” he paused “Do we have a deal, a few more minutes of your time is all I ask?” he waited for Shaun’s response. This he gave, after a few moments of silence, by a shrug of the shoulders and an indication of the head.


The white cab, a Ford Crown Victoria, pulled up at the sidewalk of one First Street, Washington D.C, the home of the Supreme Court. The driver was Joe Albertson, a 50-year-old African American. He had been driving a cab in D.C since he was twenty. He loved every minute of it. He liked to say everyone in the city was his friend, and the secrets he heard, as he ferried many of the cities prestigious people to their destinations would go to the grave with him. Cab drivers, that he was friends with, had nicknamed him the keeper and it was a moniker he was proud to hold.

He took the preferred fare from the smartly dressed man and radioed control to say he was taking his break. Joe knocked the for hire sign off before settling back to tuck into the fried chicken and rice his wife had lovingly prepared that morning. He looked at the crowded sidewalks, and the people wrapped up against the cold, while he sat in the warmth of his cab and smacked his lips at the Jamaican spices that covered the chicken.

Life is peachy, he thought.

Joe looked over to his right across the immaculate lawns in front of the Capitol Building that was all lit up in the early evening half-light. He always admired the architecture of the place with its Dome pointing up to the heavens.

Big meeting going down there tonight, the acting pres. giving big speech to decide how our lives will run, the world has changed now it is a miserable place to be.

These became Joes final thoughts and his obituary, for as the word be ended the rumination so the blinding flash and thunder as the dirty bomb that had been placed in the basement of the capitol building, exploded with such force that Joes cab is picked up and flung through the walls of the Supreme Court building, ended his life. The bomb was so powerful it took out all the buildings that surrounded the epicentre of the blast and left the entire area irradiated.

Snow clouds hung low in the sky above Harrison, a small township on route 287 in Madison County, Montana. It had a population of 200 souls and the type of place where everyone knew everybody else. Main Street was a collection of buildings on route 287 that looked out over now empty wheat fields that stretched into the distance towards snow-capped mountains. The main form of employment in the area was agriculture, mostly corn and cattle, as the residents of Harrison have dubbed it, there was also forestry and construction work to be had locally while others travelled into Willow creek or Great falls to work. The majority of the town were Catholic with Mormons a close second plus a smattering of other religions thrown into the mix. None of that mattered to Steve Cramer as he sat outside the red-bricked Farragut stores drinking from a bottle of Coke and talking to Jimmy Farragut the son of the storeowner. They had known each other since high school where upon Steve joined the Marines and Jimmy went to work in his father’s business, so they had lost touch until a roadside bomb in Iran had ended Steve’s military career. Both had been discussing the events of the last couple of days, a conversation that most households in Harrison had been having, that being the assassination of the President. It was a well-known fact that the whole town had voted for him. He had stopped off in their small town on his nationwide tour in the run up to the election. The visit is unscheduled and a shock to the entire township who are impressed with him and his honesty.

What mattered to Steve was the appearance of ten covered military trucks, four Humvees with machine guns mounted on their roofs and the two helicopters that hovered above the fields across 287. One truck and a Humvee had stopped at the junction of Jefferson Street and heavily armed soldiers climbed out and began erecting a barrier across the road, the other trucks drove further up the road and pulled up by the sheriff’s office. Soldiers dispersed from the trucks and formed up in front of the office; a solidly built man dressed in the uniform of a major in the newly formed sixth army climbed out of the lead Humvee and briefly spoke to a man dressed in a black nylon jacket with the Homeland security seal on the left breast. He then went to address his men. From where Steve and Jimmy were standing, they heard him shout-“You have your orders men, handle any resistance as an attack on your selves and treat accordingly, see to it.” The soldiers gave a brief hoo-rah and dispersed into the township.
They both looked at each other.
“What do you thinks goin’ on?” Jimmy asked.
Steve shrugged-“Fucked if I know, but it ‘ain’t good that’s for sure”, he climbed to his feet as two soldiers approached them. One soldier hung back, covering them with his M16.

“What’s up fellas?” Steve asked, he took in the soldier’s body language, and knew they had not come fresh from boot but were battle-hardened veterans.
“Anybody inside the premises sir” he asked totally ignoring Steve’s question.
“Just my dad” jimmy answered.
The soldier entered the store, came out with Jimmy’s dad, and nodded towards the trucks.
“Make your way over to the trucks please we have to evacuate the town, a big crash down the road has released toxic fumes and they could be heading this way”
“Let me lock my store up first” old man Farragut said.
“No time sir, do not the town will be manned by troops till you return”
“Never the less” he turned to lock the door; the soldier grabbed him and flung him into the road.

The next few seconds passed in slow motion for Steve, Jimmy stepped forward and punched the soldier in the side of the head.

“Leave my dad alone,” he screamed.

The soldier who had been covering them opened fire nearly cutting Jimmy in two.

Steve looked at his friend in disbelief.

“Move both of you” he motioned with his weapon.
For the first time in his life, Steve felt fear; he helped old man Farragut to his feet and helped him walk to the trucks, soothing him as he shed silent tears for jimmy.
It took over three hours for the entire town to assemble by the trucks: no more information given to them as they waited. Steve comforted Jimmy’s dad who had been silent the whole time.
The final members of the town were approaching; a group of six soldiers leads them. Steve saw John Delaney holding a handkerchief to his head, which was pouring with blood, others sported bruises on their faces. What was happening, Steve did not recognise this behaviour as any he had experienced in his Military career? Something was markedly wrong with this picture!
“I don’t understand what’s goin’ on, I’ve not seen anything like this before,” somebody nearby said.
Mr Farragut looked at Steve.
“I have, but I never thought I would see it here, pfah,” he rolled up his sleeve and showed Steve the tattooed digits on his forearm. He understood the meaning of those numbers and hung his head in shame at what was occurring here this day. The scene is played out in several townships around the country, culminating in the loading of the people onto trucks and the trucks then driven to “Emergency Transit Camps.” By the end of the day, thousands of people displaced from their homes and now under Federal Control.
While American citizens were being dragged from their homes, Shaun Kane sat in Dr Dansons office, a cup of coffee cradled in his hand. He sat patiently as the Doctor gave him what amounted to Jason’s case history, and what a history it was.
“Jason came to me two years ago” Doctor Danson began “He was suffering from quite a few mental problems, not least was Dissociative identity disorder”
“What’s that?” Shaun asked, “I haven’t heard of it”
Danson explained Jason had displayed several distinct personalities or alter egos, each with its own pattern of perceiving and interacting with the environment, commonly called Multiple Personality disorder. He displayed all the classic symptoms, memory loss, multiple mannerisms, attitudes, and beliefs that are not similar to each other, and many other symptoms besides.
“This disorder is thought to be linked to incidents of child abuse and trauma,” Danson said “often by a trusted caregiver as the child is growing up”
“And you think this is the reason for him murdering Michael?” Shaun asked, “C’mon Doc”
“Please be patient, and let me explain.” The good Doctor carried on with his explanation. Further examination of the personalities revealed they seemed complete, with back histories and lives completely separate from Jason’s life. Doctor Danson subjected him to deep hypnosis sessions; while awake, he could not remember much of his early life except his parents having died in a car crash, and at the age of five Jason ends up in an Orphanage. The first memory uncovered was at the age of six, one of the carers leading him into a classroom and having to sit at a desk, he remembers the room was full of children of the same age as him. In front of him are blocks of various shapes and he had to arrange them into some sort of order. A woman with a strange accent walked around the classroom with a clipboard, she walks between the desks making notes. After the blocks came five playing cards with strange symbols on them. When the woman called their name they had to pick a card