Page 7 of Acting on Instinct
“Yes. I was in a great deal of pain. But I believe I had all my faculties. Though I believe I hallucinated part of the fight.”
She tipped her head. “The hallucination was visual? Auditory?”
“I would say possibly visual. Mostly sensory and olfactory.”
“Interesting. Can you tell me about your hallucination?”
“I punched this man’s jaw. I’ve broken jaws before, so I’m aware of the sound and the sensation. In my mind, this time,the jaw punch felt like a cartoon turned into a horror film. I remember being confused and wondering if he was the good guy, and I was taking him out.”
“Good guy?” White asked.
“I thought of vampires. It was the hallucination, as I was saying.”
“The cartoon sensation,” Lynx asked, “was it just that one punch or subsequent punches?”
“The guy was out. I didn’t punch him again. I turned to the guy with the knife. Ah, yes, there was a weapon. Funny how that just came to me. I didn’t punch again. I was blocking and kicking, throwing, and I put the knife wielder into a stranglehold. Then did the same with the driver, who had his arm in a cast and wasn’t really up for a fight. When they were all out cold, I tied them up and left them on the side of the road.”
“The hallucinations had stopped?” Lynx asked.
“It was a momentary thing. I shouldn’t have brought it up. The effects of the accident on my head.”
“I can’t imagine you being able to down four uninjured men. I’m so glad that you found it in you to persevere.” Lynx’s forehead was crisscrossed with concern lines.
Again, he was struck by the level of empathy in Lynx’s gaze and tone. He knew she was a young woman in a dainty dress, but he was sure that she had survived something horrific. And he wondered if Lynx had been CIA like Red, but had left for a safer gig at Iniquus, which was what White had hinted at in the car earlier. “Red was injured,” Nomad said as if that in itself explained his superhuman capacity.
“I want to go back to the hallucination. Describe the sound to me.”
“Crunchy,” Nomad said, thinking they were veering off into the weeds.
“Interesting. I’ve punched my fair share of people in the jaw,” White said. “I never heard ‘crunchy’”
“No, well, perhaps I’m giving the punch a cartoonish image.”
“Based on the sensation?” Lynx asked.
“Exactly. It was the sensation of hitting a bag filled with aquarium gravel.”
“Tell me about that,” Lynx leaned forward.
“Small, brittle, hard. I’m not sure what you’re looking for here.”
Lynx offered up a sweet smile. “I like to ask questions and meander around a bit. We don’t have a direction, might as well enjoy the scenery.”
Nomad turned to White.
White, for the first time in a while, looked animated, juiced by Lynx’s questions. Though for the life of him, Nomad couldn’t understand why.
“Slowly, now,” Lynx said. “Close your eyes, go back to the fight. You are about to hallucinate as you punch the man in the jaw. You thought about vampires and good guys and aquarium gravel in a bag.”
“Odd but yes.”
“Do the thoughts ‘vampire’ and ‘good guy’ go together?”
“I believe so. I remember a flash of thinking that he was a vampire hunter out to save people, and here I was taking him down.”
“Did you think that before or after the punch?” Lynx asked.
Nomad stilled.
