James Morton took pride in discovering lies. The key was numbers. No matter what people said, no matter their words, James could always rely on numbers to give a clear account of the truth. This was the basis of his entire career as a financial auditor. Sometimes, though, getting to his discovery would take just a little too long…

A short plane ride brought James (and his skill with numbers) to the driveway of Kelly's Medical Supplies. Putting aside that it had drawn some suspicious lender’s attention, the firm was otherwise an unremarkable sole proprietorship, housed in an unremarkable two-story building. He pounded on the door.

A woman answered the door, the eponymous Kelly, he assumed. She was dressed professionally, a blouse and a dark blazer, and with a smile that stretched from ear to ear. To James’ surprise, the smile didn’t falter as he handed her his card.

"Welcome, Mr. Morton," she said, ushering him inside. The indignation most business owners showed in the presence of an auditor was completely absent. "I'm glad you could make it; I’ve prepared for you. That is, the documents your firm requested. Right this way.”

Kelly led James down a cold hallway, which looked like an old medical office. She led past rows of boxes and shelves filled with various medical equipment. The inventory, the auditor assumed. He largely ignored it; counting needles and bandages might come later but for now was beyond his remit. Kelly was making small talk, discussing how she stocked some items but drop-shipped others. James hardly listened; the numbers would tell the story.

The pair came to a room with a desk in it. "Here's where I keep the financials; there should be all of the documents your firm required I produce," Kelly remarked. On the desk sat a thick folder.

"And since it's a bit chilly in here, I'll make some tea to help keep us warm." She excused herself, moving to a steaming pot on a small table in the corner of the room, along with two mismatched cups. A reason to hover in the same room while he worked, James assumed.

Well, her presence wasn't going to stop him. James sat down at the desk, flipping open the folder, and without preamble, began leafing through the documents. James mumbled to himself as he turned page after page; he was pleased that all of the statements that were supposed to be produced were here. But it didn’t take long for him to find the problems. For a start, he could see a clear pattern of wastage; all sorts of disposables being used up or trashed without being sold.

Kelly poured James a cup of tea after a few minutes of brewing. James smiled gratefully at the blonde woman, careful to not let his increasing dismay at the accounting records reach his face. He sipped the warm herbal liquid as he returned to ignoring her presence. As he paged through the records, James could see the pattern of wastage applied to all sorts of inventory, from medical gases to sterile dressings to gloves and uniforms.

Kelly poured him a second cup of tea. James realized his mouth was dry, and he started on the second cup thankfully.

“I have some things to do; I’ll be just down the hallway,” James barely acknowledged her, and Kelly finally left him alone.

James continued through more and more pages. He rubbed his temples; this was giving him a headache, and the plane ride had taken more out of him than he’d expected. But at least he no longer noticed the cold. Shaking some fuzziness out of his head, he returned to the numbers.

He decided to take another tack. Perhaps he could find income related to these inventory changes? Indeed, as he made progress, he noted several entries of vaguely explained income days after large inventory reductions. Was Kelly simply recording sales in a strange manner? No, the income was far in excess of the wasted materials. While an exciting hint, by accounting standards, James found himself yawning.

James was sure he was awfully close to discovering exactly what truth was hiding in these documents. But he had taken too long.

James took another sip of tea, when his vision swam for a moment. James blinked hard and refocused on the income statement in front of him, but as he leaned forward, his vision swam again, the text on the page unreadable. His head lolled to the side as overwhelming drowsiness crept over him.

“Hey, are you feeling okay?” James realized Kelly had returned, and was standing next to him. She had changed; instead a professional blazer, she now wore blue medical scrubs.

"I don't know; I feel funny...", James murmured.

Kelly smiled, but it wasn’t a comforting smile. “Don’t worry. It's a perfectly natural reaction to what I put in the tea. You really gulped it down, didn't you?"

"What? You put something in the tea?" He was starting to slur his words. He tried to stand up, to run, but his body didn't obey him. "You poisoned me..." He barely got the words out.

"Oh, don't worry," Kelly laughed a cold laugh. "Nothing so bad. I knew the accounts would make you angry, so I decided you'd like a nice cocktail to help you relax. A little midazolam, a little ketamine, a bit of chloral hydrate, a nice mix I learned back when I was a nurse."

James knew he should be terrified, but instead he just felt… fuzzy. He felt strangely detached as Kelly grabbed his arm, lifting him from the office chair, yanking him to his feet. James staggered as the floor seemed to spin around him. James found himself leaning against the woman as she pushed him away from the desk, to the office door.

"It makes you nice and compliant, doesn't it? It's been about half an hour, so it should have taken full effect by now. It's a funny feeling, isn’t it? Knowing you should be fighting, but not quite able to do it," Kelly half pushed, half carried James out of the office and down a blurry hallway. James couldn't do anything but lean against her, just struggling to stay upright.

"I've used this cocktail on men much larger than you, you know. You'll need to sleep it off for a little while, and like I said, I’ve prepared for you. I have a guest room made up for you already." Kelly guided him down the hallway to a wide door which she'd left open, prepared just for him.

James stumbled inside what appeared to be a hospital room. Sparsely decorated, the room had a single hospital gurney, a metal side table, and a few pieces of medical equipment in the corner. The walls and bed were the same sterile white, and the floor was gray tile. The air smelled like disinfectant.

Kelly steered James toward the bed, and with a small shove, he toppled onto it. Despite the obvious danger of his situation, a sense of calm washed over him as his body started to relax.

"Let's get you out of those uncomfortable clothes, and into a nice gown," Kelly said, as if this was a totally normal thing, admitting a patient in a normal hospital. She began to deftly undo James's clothing. He was too woozy to notice that each piece of clothing was discarded into a nearby trash receptacle; Kelly didn't intend for the auditor to need his street clothes again. The former nurse retrieved James's phone from his pocket and put it aside for later, keeping it well out of his reach. James understood he should be fighting against the blue-scrubbed woman. But he just couldn't find the will to do it, as the drugs gently separated him from his increasingly terrifying reality.

Soon James was sitting passively on the gurney in nothing but his underwear. Kelly grabbed a hospital gown that had been waiting folded nearby, and carefully began to help James put it on, gently tying the gown's back closed.

"There you go," Kelly said brightly. "All comfortable now?"

James felt too weak to answer or even move. His muscles relaxed even further and the room pitched alarmingly as Kelly pushed him down onto the bed. He just couldn’t make himself resist.

Attached to the gurney’s metal frame were white leather restraints. Kelly probably didn’t really need them with James in his current dissociated state, but it was important that she keep all of her advantages. James moaned in protest, but under the influence of Kelly's tea, could do nothing but lay his head back against the pillow as Kelly strapped him down.

"Just a precaution, so you don’t hurt yourself," Kelly lied, with an increasingly self-satisfied smile. James felt a strange sense of calm, looking up at this confident woman in scrubs, as if he was in the hands of a medical professional instead of some psychopath who had just poisoned his tea.

Finished adjusting the restraints, Kelly wheeled an IV pole to the side of James’s bed, and uncovered a tray that she'd prepared with all the materials to start an intravenous drip. She pulled on a pair of purple gloves.

With a practiced motion, Kelly looped a blue elastic tourniquet around James's upper arm and tied it tight. With her gloved fingers, she gently searched for an appropriate vessel, and it did not take long. "You have nice veins," she told her nearly insensate victim, swabbing the inside of his elbow with a disinfectant patch.

Kelly uncapped her needle, and smiled. She held it up dramatically, careful to catch the light on its wicked point. But, she saw that James wasn’t watching; he was far too drugged to feel any fear at her small performance. Disappointing.

With one hand to hold the skin taut, she used her other to insert the IV needle. Through the haze, James felt a tiny pinch but was completely unable to care. In just a few seconds, Kelly advanced the IV catheter, pulled the needle, and secured it with a transparent dressing.

Kelly attached a coil of tubing, hanging a bag of saline nearby. She'd prepared another dose of midazolam; she twisted it into a port on the IV, and quickly administered it. "Just a little something extra to help you sleep," Kelly explained, though James was barely awake enough to hear it.

Kelly stood back and admired her handiwork and her new patient. Sedatives in a drink were one thing, but once she had a needle in a man's arm, she had complete control. A needle in a vein was true power; power over consciousness, over memory, over life and death.

James felt his body growing more and more relaxed, the danger of his situation long forgotten. He felt his eyes grow even heavier and the fuzziness in his head rapidly deepened.

As the IV medication took full effect, Kelly whispered in his ear. “Sleep well, James. I'm afraid you've been scheduled for surgery."

The sinister warning floated away, as the sedatives made forming memories quite impossible.

Kelly smiled to herself as she watched James’s eyes close. This all had been remarkably quick and easy once she'd decided the auditor was going to be her new guest. With James fully sedated and restrained, Kelly was free to do whatever she wanted now, as long as she could tie up all the loose ends.

Kelly pointed James's phone at his sleeping face, and was rewarded with the click of it unlocking automatically. It'd be easy enough to send an email reporting the audit was finished. She'd have to get rid of his rental car, but that would be easy enough, too. A few hours of work was a small price to pay to make sure nobody came looking. The sedative drip would keep James out for as long as Kelly needed.

——————

James slowly woke up, his head pounding and his thoughts muddled. It felt like he'd been asleep for a long time. He slowly looked around, taking in his surroundings. He was in a hospital room, with harsh overhead lights and the smell of antiseptic. A bag of fluid and a coil of tubing ran to an IV in his arm.

Above him stood a woman wearing blue scrubs, masked, and with her hair covered by a matching blue cap, an empty syringe in her hands. A doctor? A nurse? Nurse felt like the right answer for some reason.

James tried to sit up, but pressure on his wrists kept him from using his arms. He realized he was restrained to the sides of the bed he was in.

"Relax, James," the nurse said. Her voice sounded vaguely familiar. "I know you’re disoriented, but we’ll take good care of you.”

James's mind spun as he tried to remember how he had gotten here, but everything was fuzzy. He could tell he was under the influence of some medication, maybe whatever the nurse had just delivered. James remembered getting into his rental car to drive to... work? Had he been in an accident? He must be in a hospital...

His mind was foggy, and he couldn't think straight. That was, of course, by design; Kelly had adjusted his drip quite carefully, needing to ensure he'd stay compliant when he came to.

“It’s time to go to the operating room,” the nurse explained, as she unlocked the gurney's wheels. She began to wheel it out of the room into the hallway. The movement made James's mind blur. "What happened?" he mumbled out, but Kelly pretended not to hear him.

The hospital hallway smelled of disinfectant… but immediately felt wrong; it was short and empty of anyone else; no other nurses rushing back and forth, no doctors answering pages. How many patients did a hospital usually have? A larger number, right? Why was he restrained? James was trying to remember what had happened, he remembered driving to a medical supply company, and then... what? Why did he need surgery? What surgery?

But before he knew it, he was through another wide door and into an operating room.

James looked around the room as the doors swung open. In the center lay an imposing metal T-shaped operating table, and the walls were white, illuminated by two powerful surgical spotlights that hung from the ceiling. An array of medical machines surrounded the table, ready to be put to use.

The nurse pushed his gurney right up next to the operating table and began to unbuckle the leather straps that held him on the gurney. "Scoot over, please," the nurse instructed, her voice commanding and cold.

James realized that with his limbs free, he had a chance to resist; should he?

James's mind swirled; he could trust medical professionals, couldn’t he? But why couldn't he remember how he’d gotten here? He was afraid of having surgery, but surely whatever emergency had brought him here made it nessesary. Besides, he didn’t want to embarrass himself when he needed help. The thoughts were all warring within him.

Drug-induced amnesia and confusion won out, though, as James was still trying to make up his mind when Kelly gently and easily lifted him onto the operating table, by first moving his shoulders and then his back, then his legs. She lay him down on the table, centering his head on a small pillow with clearly practiced motions.

"What.. what happened to me? What's going on?" James managed to get out, looking up at the nurse and the two giant surgical lights.

"The doctor will answer all your questions soon," Kelly lied. "But it’s important we move quickly. Please extend your arms," she instructed. The woman seemed authoritative and professional, and James was still too confused to struggle against her. So, James did as she ordered, laying out his arms, and only watched as the nurse wrapped new padded leather straps around his wrists. Her gloved hands deftly centering each arm onto the padded armboards before securing them there with metal buckles. This didn’t seem right; the feeling of leather against James’s wrists only amplified the wrongness of this situation, but it was too late. Kelly smiled behind her mask; her victim’s chance to resist was over.

The blue-scrubbed nurse didn't bother to restrain his ankles. There was no point; there was nothing he could kick.

The nurse gathered up James's hair, and covered it with a bouffant cap. For some reason, the minor addition made James feel even more vulnerable.

Next, the nurse attached a variety of monitors to James. She connected a pulse oximeter to an immobile finger, and then EKG leads, reaching under his gown to stick the pads to his chest, A big boxy monitor beside the table's head came to life, softly beeping in time with his heart rate. Kelly wrapped a blood pressure cuff around James's arm, she pressed a button, and the cuff squeezed tightly. With each passing moment, James felt more helpless than ever before. James was grateful that the nurse made no move to remove his flimsy patient gown.

Despite her statement that they needed to act quickly, Kelly was actually taking her time. The nurse hummed contently as she finished hooking up the monitors and adjusting settings on the machines arrayed around them.

"Almost ready now, James. Just try to relax while I finish getting ready," the strangely familiar nurse reassured, and wheeled away the empty gurney, leaving James alone, recumbent on the table, looking up at the ceiling and spotlights.

Wasn't it odd that this one surgical nurse was the only person James had seen? It felt wrong. Where were the doctors, the assistants? Why had nobody answered his questions or told him what had happened? Normally he’d make connections quickly, but now his mind felt sluggish.

All he could do was lie on the operating table. Some monitor beeped in time with his heart rate, and periodically the blood pressure cuff hissed, but otherwise there was only silence. James tried to make sense of what was happening—of why he was here, why he was in restraints, why he was having surgery. And why he felt so confused.

James tried to methodically go through what he could remember. A plane ride; a business trip! Yes, that felt right. An audit.

He remembered renting a car... Wait, he'd arrived somewhere; a business, he'd gone inside, and...met the business owner, who was a nurse!

James moaned as he realized who the nurse was. It was the woman he'd been investigating!

As if a switch had been flipped, memories came rushing back. The numbers that didn't add up, the hallways full of inventory, the large payments incoming and the medical supplies going out! Kelly had clearly done something to him. And was still going to do something to him. This wasn't a hospital, this was some twisted part of the medical supply company! He had to escape!

The heart rate minor’s beeping accelerated. James thrashed around, pulled at his wrists. He tugged at the straps, but they wouldn't budge. The leather pressed into his skin as he tried to break free of the restraints, but it was no use: he was trapped on this cold table. He kicked his feet against the table, but… nothing moved. Even with his feet loose, there wasn’t anything he could do to get anything else free. James looked around desperately for something that could help—a tool or a weapon—but there was nothing within reach.

Frustration welled up inside him. There had to be a way out. He lay still and quiet on the table, his mind racing with fear as he listened to the sound of Kelly’s footsteps coming closer. There would be no escape today; Kelly had made sure of that.

"Trying to struggle now, James?" Kelly's voice sounded amused. "It's far too late for that."

Kelly had returned, and looked down at him. She’d changed again; this time into a green surgical gown, cap, and mask. Playing a different character. Only her cold eyes were visible.

"Let me go!" James yelled, his voice was raspy and weak. "You can't do this!"

"I'm afraid I can. You completed your audit and didn't find anything out of the ordinary. You left two days ago, you see. Nobody has seen you since."

Kelly pulled a cart beside the operating table, which was filled with strange instruments and medical supplies. She put on a fresh pair of white surgical gloves, slowly pulling them over her fingers, then letting them snap. Performing like a cat playing with its prey.

She grabbed a scalpel from the top of the cart, and without warning held it up towards James's face. James winced away from the blade, and Kelly laughed quietly at his terror.

"Don't worry, I'm very experienced at this," Kelly said, her laughter suddenly stopping, her cold demeanor restored, her voice not betraying any emotion as she made her way around the operating table, collecting trays, continuing her preparations.

James watched in horror as Kelly lined up different surgical implements on a metal stand that fit next to the operating table. There were scalpels of varying sizes, some curved needles and spools of thread, forceps, clamps, an electric saw...

But most terrifyingly of all were three large plastic coolers, each labeled "Human Organs". Kelly had made sure to place the labels right where James could see them.

It all made sense now, James realized as he fixated on the horrifying labels. This was the answer to the strange income and the strange waste of surgical supplies. The numbers all made sense; disposables used in large quantities… leading to large profits. This woman wasn't just crazy, she was harvesting people! And James was next!

Kelly paused to appraise her victim. James was clearly terrified, still weakly struggling against the restraints and the sedatives he'd been given. She thought she could see the wheels turning in his head as he gawked at the coolers. This was just how Kelly wanted it. "It's going to all be over soon," Kelly said, chuckling. "I'll make sure there's very little pain."

James felt tears welling up in his eyes. The nurse continued her preparations, deliberately taking her time, letting her victim percolate in the terror and helplessness.

Moving to some nearby cabinets, Kelly pulled a glass bottle from a refrigerated container, and from a drawer, a syringe. James could hear the ominous crinkling of the sealed syringe pack being opened.

Naturally, Kelly had staged most of the drugs she’d need, but she had left her favorite until now. She smiled behind her mask, grinning in anticipation. Twisting on a large needle, she drew up an entire bottle labeled PROPOFOL. She made sure James saw; he wouldn't know this was a powerful anesthetic, but such a large hypodermic and the bright white color would scare him, even without knowing the injection would soon be turning his lights out.

James watched the whole thing, trying to think of anything he could say to convince the nurse to stop. "You can let me go, I won't tell anyone! I promise!" James babbled.

Kelly paused and regarded James with her cold, clinical gaze. "Your begging won't do you any good," she said calmly. "You know too much already and there's nothing you can do to stop me. You’re mine now."

With those words, Kelly moved back around the operating table, laying the large white syringe on a large boxy machine above James’s head. Some switches and knobs set the anesthesia machine humming.

The truth was that even if Kelly could trust the promise not to tell, well, she wanted this now. A new patient, another helpless man that she could do whatever procedures she wanted to, for however long it entertained her. She was going to enjoy this induction, and enjoy everything she did afterwards.

"Now, James," Kelly said in a strangely gentle voice. "I'm going to put a mask over your face. I want you to just breathe normally."

"No! Please don't! I don't want..."

Kelly sighed softly before replying, "Shhhhh. I understand, I do. But it'll be easier for you if you accept this is happening. I've done this many times. If you don't fight, it won't be unpleasant."

Attaching a mask to the end of her anesthesia machine's breathing circuit, Kelly twisted a control to begin oxygen flowing. "Just breathe normally now," she encouraged James softly as she lowered the plastic mask towards his face. James twisted his face away, thrashing his head back and forth. But the faceless green demon quickly caught his chin with one hand, forcing the mask on.

"This is just oxygen. There's no reason to struggle," she admonished. Kelly's white-gloved hands flickered along her patient's face, adjusting a thin harness on the plastic mask, its black straps crossing over James's face and sealing the anesthesia mask on firmly.

James felt a surge of panic, the beeps of the EKG going even faster. He couldn't get his head away from the mask, and he had to breath immediately. He gasped. The mask smelled like plastic but not like what he imagined sleeping gas would smell like. Maybe it was just oxygen; maybe he still had time to do something. He let himself breath, he had to. And he didn’t feel like he was falling asleep.

His eyes darted around, taking in as many details as he could, maybe in hopes of finding some way out, maybe just in a desperate attempt to distract his mind from what was happening. The top of the plastic mask, a bag of saline dripping slowly, the green gowned nurse... nothing useful. The ceiling was white and tiled, and there was nothing about the ceiling tiles or surgical lamps that could possibly help him.

Kelly saw James's gaze quickly flicking around, as if searching for a savior. His arms shook and strained against the restraints, his body taut with anxiety. Kelly had seen this reaction before: a despairing hope that someone could swoop in and help them. But of course, nobody was coming, and testing the restraints was as fruitless now as it had been minutes ago. James's gaze finally settled on Kelly's cold blue eyes.

James's eyes were wide and filled with desperation. His eyes begging for mercy. But Kelly's face was unyielding and cold, no emotion or compassion in her eyes.

James had been breathing the oxygen for long enough. It was time to proceed. With the mask secure, Kelly could gas her patient down, introducing nitrous and anesthetic gas slowly and letting James float away. But today, she felt like getting to the fun part as quickly as she could. She casually leaned over and twisted the big, white propofol syringe into James's IV.

"It’s time to go to sleep," she said.

"No! You don't have to do this!" James's shouting was muffled by the mask, but he sensed that this was his last chance. Kelly ignored the outburst.

"You might feel something warm in your arm," Kelly warned, as if this was a totally normal medical procedure. "I'm sure you're good with numbers; why don't you count backwards from 100?" Kelly prompted.

"Please, stop!" James cried into the plastic mask.

Kelly's eyes flashed as she watched James strain against the restraints uselessly.

"James, this will go better for you if you cooperate," she lied. "I want you to stop struggling, look into my eyes, and count backwards. I promise it will be worse if you resist."

James felt trapped and utterly hopeless. He wanted to think of some option, some way he could get away, but with the mask on his face and the needle in his arm, what could he do? Nothing. He stopped pulling against the restraints. He calculated that his best hope was to do what the nurse wanted, because he had no other choice.

Kelly depressed the plunger on the syringe she held, and propofol flowed into James's bloodstream. Instantly, James could feel painful heat traveling from the IV site, up towards his brain.

"Better start counting," Kelly laughed. "I want see how far you can get."

"100...99...98...97... please..." he stammered out, as fast as he could.

"'Please' isn't a number, James. I thought an accountant would know that," Kelly laughed again, still pressed the plunger, slowly and smoothly. James was starting to feel dizzy, even just a few seconds in. He tried to count faster.

"96...95...94...93...," The room started spinning, first slowly, but then rapidly. How long had passed? James was losing track...

"93...92...94...,"

James was struggling against the drugs, but he realized he had lost track of what number he'd said. The nurse above him looked like she was laughing. James's head felt heavy and his eyelids were drooping. The propofol syringe was empty, the whole dose delivered. Kelly detached it and retrieved her next drug.

"95...94...93...noooooo....please..." James's words were slurring together now, and his voice got softer as he struggled to keep speaking. The feeling of the room spinning faded as his vision started to go dark. The drug was working so fast!

Kelly began injecting her paralytic, knowing the induction would soon be over, the propofol turning James's lights out. All James could hear was the beeping of the EKG, the sound of his own breath, and the hum of the anesthesia machine. What was going to happen to him? Would the nurse have mercy since he had cooperated? His thoughts began to falter, his mind began to numb...

He tried to remember what he was doing. Counting... He couldn't remember what numbers he'd already said. He could hardly get the words out, and the whole world fell away. His whole body shuddered as he tried to reach out, to grab something, to steady himself, as if falling. But it was no use.

A deep, inky blackness rushed up to envelop him, erasing all sight. His eyes were open but saw nothing. For a second, he could still hear the beeping of the heart monitor, the sound of someone breathing loudly. The next second, he was gone.

Kelly felt the thrill of her victory as the auditor's eyes glazed over. She leaned down and whispered in the auditor's ear.

"Sweet dreams!" Taunting him. But James was already beyond hearing. He was now completely under.

Kelly stood back and watched, waiting for James to stop breathing. She was mesmerized by the sight of this man, now completely helpless and at her mercy. His eyes were still and blank, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm that gradually began to slow.

A smirk crossed Kelly's lips as she watched, eagerly anticipating the drugs to take full effect, and a moment later, she watched James's breathing shudder, then stop. Her patient's eyes were unseeing slits, but Kelly gently pressed them closed and taped them there. No point in causing him unintended damage.

Kelly needed to start the intubation process, or else she'd lose her new plaything. She removed the anesthesia mask from her victim's face. Kelly retrieved an ET tube and a laryngoscope from where she'd staged them by the anesthesia machine's ventilator. She quickly inserted the scope into James's mouth; without the caution or care of a real, working anesthetist. Maybe Kelly would knock out a tooth accidentally, but she was already looking forward to practicing her novice dental surgery skills on the auditor later.

Kelly moved the scope around until she found the vocal cords. Then, with one swift motion, she inserted the endotracheal tube between them and secured it in place with a few lengths of tape. A squeeze of the machine's bag confirmed she was in the right place. An easy airway. The intubation process had taken only seconds, the entire induction barely more than a minute.

She connected the end of the tube to the anesthesia machine, and engaged the ventilator. Kelly hadn't gassed her patient to sleep, but she gassed him now. A twist of the vaporizer started the sevoflurane. A slight hum and hiss of the bellows filled the room as the machine filled her patient's lungs with the gas.

Kelly listened to the steady beeping of the monitors for a moment; with the Sevo running, James would be kept deeply under for whatever Kelly wanted. The volatile agent would be easy to manage while her hands were full of surgical tools.

And now she had to decide what she wanted... She'd certainly intended James to go to sleep looking at the "Human Organ" coolers, thinking he’d discovered her dark secret. But harvesting his organs at this stage would just be robbing herself of all the procedures she could do over weeks, maybe months. Despite Kelly's pantomime, no organs would be removed today. No vital organs, at least.

Instead, she'd keep James as her guest for a while longer. Kelly removed James's gown; without a full medical history, a full examination was in order first. Maybe she’d let him wake up once she’d decided what to do next. Or maybe she wouldn’t let him wake up at all.