No one had ever called his deserting a service before. He had served heroically, after all. Lett told himself this was progress, too. “What about my back, Doc? I took one in the back.”

“You did indeed, Wendell.” By the end of the first day, Lansdale had taken to calling him by his first name. “I must apologize for that. Certain sentries had been trying out a new tranquilizer gun, and one got a little eager with the clumsy thing.”

“A dart gun?” Lett remembered his muscles had gone weak and he could not breathe and he’d dropped.

“I’m afraid so, yes.” Lansdale added a shake of his head. “It was curare. Our weapons team was working on something new.”

“You were experimenting with me?”

“No, it’s not like that.”

“Tranquilizers are for animals. I’m not some animal, Doc.”

“No. Of course not. In point of fact? I’ll have you know that I investigated all of this personally and have passed my recommendations on to Lieutenant Colonel Selfer. All appropriated parties are being reprimanded.”

At the end of that day, Lansdale assured Lett that the third stage, his training, would begin once they determined that he was ready. Lett’s development would be “cultivated until it met a certain standard.”

“This is the whole point of the cure, after all,” Lansdale told him.

“What’s the training?” Lett asked. “The assignment.”

“Well, that’s up to us,” Lansdale said. “And, it will depend on how you respond from here on out.”

And then, Lansdale stopped visiting Lett.

8.

Without Lansdale, Lett didn’t get his injection. Without that syringe, Lett didn’t seem to be able to find those profound and illuminating thoughts he was voicing before when “associating free,” as Lansdale called it. Staying calm wasn’t as easy, either. He worried that the nightmares or an incident would come any moment. Even the slightest muffled sound through the ventilation grate could set him back. He needed to keep his treatment going.

Lett wasn’t sure how much time had passed exactly, but he figured it had been a day. The minutes wore on, becoming hours. He didn’t know when it was daylight exactly, let alone the position of the sun. The two guards in coveralls returned but only to bring him his food. Other than that, Lett paced and he stewed.

He banged on the hatch of his room until the two guards opened up. He repeatedly demanded to see Lansdale. The two told him that Lansdale had other business and had instructed that he stay put.

He stewed more, paced more. He hung up his blue corduroy robe and made sure he was fully dressed, ready to go. He reasoned things out in his metal chair, facing the wall as if it were a chalkboard, the gray paint blurring into options, acceptable losses, lesser evils. Again, he banged on the door, this time with a more measured pace that brought the two guards back sooner.