A Cocktail of Truths

The sterile scent of disinfectant clung to the air, cloying and thick, as I blinked back into consciousness. It felt like swimming through fog, my senses slowly returning, dragging my mind along with them. The world flickered into focus in pieces—the glaring hospital lights overhead, the cold white tiles beneath me, and the low hum of a machine somewhere nearby. Pain threaded through my body, sharp and immediate. My mouth was dry, my limbs stiff, and each breath was like sandpaper scraping against my insides. But I was alive.

I blinked, trying to remember how I’d ended up here. The hospital lights cast jagged shadows across the walls, stretching and distorting like twisted memories. My mind swam in confusion, drugged and foggy. Where was I? Some deranged clinic hidden deep in the compound? Or was I in an actual hospital, with real doctors and pretty nurses? I turned my head slowly and noticed the IV drip feeding into my arm. The drugs... that explained the haze. It was good stuff. Too good.

How the hell had I survived? My last memory was of the train—a hulking, roaring beast of steel, hurtling toward me at breakneck speed.

No.

It felt like breakneck speed, but it wasn’t. I could still hear the screech of its wheels in my mind, the overwhelming sound like the jaws of some metallic predator ready to swallow me whole, but I could also read the lips of the train driver as he yelled something incoherently in my direction.

What was it?

Ah, yes. His lips looked like he was shouting, “Get the hell off the track before I bury you.” His trackside manner certainly eclipsed the lack of bedside manner my aching ribs are currently crying out for. Where the hell is everyone?

The certainty of death had been visceral, absolute. I was supposed to be dead, splattered across the walls of the tunnel.

But here I am at the end of a different outcome and the beginning of something else yet to reveal itself. In hospital I am, yes. But dead? No.

I wasn’t crushed. I wasn’t a red stain across the steel tracks. I was here. Alive. Barely.

Wait, no. The drugs are definitely messing with my brain. Pain, yes. Incapacitated? I’m not sure.

Wiggle your toes, Jason. Yep, there they are dancing under the sheet. What about my arms, my hands, my fingers? Okay. I can move. That’s a good sign.

A snowplow!

It all came flooding back, clear as day. At the very last second, I’d seen the blinding white wall of snow. It wasn’t a full train at all—it was just a damned plow clearing the tracks, slowing down before the end of the tunnel. The impact had knocked me out cold, but I hadn’t been pulverized. Lucky me.

I tried to push myself up, gritting my teeth against the pain as it flared through my ribs. My body screamed in protest, but I ignored it, forcing myself upright. My vision swam, and I gripped the edges of the hospital bed, steadying myself. Memories flashed behind my eyes, half-formed dreams colliding with reality. Faces, places, the familiar and the unfamiliar blurred together.

But one memory cut through the haze, sharp as a blade: Mathias. His cold, calculating eyes. And Lila. The betrayor—betrayee… the backstabber… Focus, Jason. Embrace the drugs.

I should have known. I should have seen it coming the moment she smiled at me—that smile, too perfect, too rehearsed. She played me from the start, leading me deeper into the Clarity Organization’s tangled web of lies. Every step of the way, she made sure I uncovered the truth too quickly, like breadcrumbs leading to a trap. Shrewd. All part of the plan.

And I fell for it. Like a fool.

A creak at the door pulled me from my thoughts. The sound was faint, but it was enough to make me turn, slow and deliberate. My eyes adjusted to the dimness, and speak of the Devil, there she was.

Lila.

She stood in the doorway, framed by the flickering fluorescent lights in the hallway. Her silhouette was sharp, outlined in the harsh light, but her face was shadowed. In her hand, I saw it—glinting ominously in the gloom—a syringe. She stepped closer, her movements fluid, graceful. We locked eyes, and for a moment, we just stared at each other. The silence between us was heavy, oppressive.

“So,” I rasped, my voice raw, scraping against my throat like broken glass. “I made it… but for how long?”

Her eyes, dark and unreadable, didn’t leave mine. She took a step forward, her face coming into view. The smile she used to wear so effortlessly was gone, replaced by something colder.

“For now,” she replied softly, her voice devoid of the warmth she once manipulated me with. “But you’ve made things complicated, Jason. You weren’t supposed to come out of that tunnel.”

A bitter laugh escaped my lips, though it sent fresh pain stabbing through my ribs. I grunted, holding my side. “I guess I’m proof there’s a light at the end of any tunnel.” It was cliché, yes, but the level of medication coursing through my body had not yet healed the bruises on my humerus.

Another day, another time and that bone I just threw her, would be funny.

The silence stretched, taut and charged. She stood just a few feet from me now, the syringe in her hand trembling ever so slightly. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. Enough to know there was a crack in her armor, something to exploit. If there was a crack, I could get inside her head—just like she’d gotten into mine. I used to be good at slipping between cracks to find the truth. Now, would be the time to rediscover that skillset.

“If that’s for me,” I said, nodding at the syringe, my voice steadier now. “I think I’m happy enough floating inside my own head.”

She held it up, the needle catching the light. “A little cocktail,” she explained, her voice calm but with a hint of nervousness, “to erase the memories you’re not supposed to have.”

“Ah,” I giggled, the painkillers rushing through my veins, making the whole situation feel distant. “Mathias’s way of tying up loose ends.”

She didn’t respond, but I could see the tension in her face—the tightening of her jaw, the flicker of something in her eyes.

Fear.

She was scared—of Mathias, of what she was about to do, and maybe even of me.

I forced myself to sit up, ignoring the sharp protest of my ribs. This wasn’t about strength anymore. It was a mental game now, and I had always been good at those. It was what made me a damn good journalist—before I wasn’t one anymore.

“You’re just another tool in Mathias’s empire, aren’t you?” I said, my voice low, deliberate. “You think he’ll set you free if you do this. One last job, and you’re out, right?”

Her eyes narrowed, but she didn’t speak.

“You’re not the first,” I continued, my tone smooth, coaxing. “I’ve seen the pattern. You do this, and he owns you. Forever. He doesn’t let anyone go, Lila. Not really. You’re just another pawn in his game.”

Then, she said something that made me doubt her intentions. “He doesn’t know…”

Her hand trembled, the syringe dipping slightly. The crack widened.

“Then, what is this?” I queried.

“A way to prove myself to him,” she chillingly replied.

My face frowned that type of expression that only a dumbfounded person can do—or someone so high on medication expressing complete obliviousness to what was happening around them.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to walk away, Lila?”

Just the suggestion made her glance over her shoulder. “He’ll find out,” she said. “You’re in the new Clarity Ward of his hospital. I’m still of use to him,” she tried to convince herself. “I just need to show him.”

“I’ve seen what he does to people who outlive their usefulness,” I pressed on. “Hell, I saw the records. Names, dates, disappearances. You think you’re special? You think you’re the one person he won’t discard now that he thinks I’m dead?”

Her lips pressed together in a thin line, but I saw it—the flicker of doubt in her eyes. Just for a moment, but it was there.

Good. Keep pushing.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said finally, her voice hard, but there was an undercurrent of fear. She didn’t believe her own words.

I laughed, quieter this time, more controlled, but the pain receptors in my ribs told me to stop laughing and keep talking. “Keep telling yourself that,” I prodded. “I’ve read the documents Mathias didn’t think anyone would ever see. Offshore accounts. Shell companies. He’s been playing all of you. And when the game’s over, when he doesn’t need you anymore, he’ll get rid of you. You’re just in too deep to realise it.”

Her grip on the syringe tightened. For a second, I thought she might still go through with it. Maybe Mathias had too much of a hold on her. Maybe she couldn’t see a way out. But then she looked away, just for a second, and I knew I had her.

The syringe dipped lower, hanging limply in her hand now.

I leaned forward, wincing as pain shot through my side, but I ignored it.

“You don’t have to do this, Lila. We can take him down. We still have access to his computer files. We don’t need to copy them to anything but the Cloud. We can sink him for good. But I need you. I need your help.”

Her eyes snapped back to mine, sharp and cold. “And what makes you think I’d trust you, Jason? After all, you’re nothing but a hack journalist. I’d be the patsy whose crimes might make it to page three before I disappear wearing some stripey overalls, never to see the light of day again.”

I shrugged and a fresh drip of that cocktail of truth attached to my arm, brought on a warm rush of happiness through my veins.

“I’m the only one telling you the truth,” I uncontrollably elucidated. “You know that. Deep down, you know I’m right. Mathias isn’t going to let you go, no matter what promises he made.”

Her face twisted in frustration, fear mingling with anger. She was fighting it—fighting herself, fighting the truth she didn’t want to face. But I wasn’t giving up. Not yet.

“I saw you, Lila,” I said, my voice low, insistent. “When you betrayed me, you hesitated. You didn’t want to do it. You’re not like them. You haven’t gone too far yet.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” she hissed, her voice trembling. “I’ve already gone too far.”

“I know enough,” I countered, my tone calm, unwavering. “I know you don’t want to spend the rest of your life under Mathias’s thumb. I know you want out. And I know that if you go through with this, there’s no way back from it.”

I let the silence hang between us, heavy and oppressive, letting the weight of my words sink in.

“You think you’re trapped, but you’re not. Not yet. You’ve got a choice. Help me, and we can take Mathias down. Expose everything. You don’t have to run anymore.”

Her hand wavered, the syringe loose in her grip. It was a small victory, but it was enough to keep me going.

“You are delusional, if you think Mathias will let you walk away.” I said, my voice growing sharper. “He’s already watching you, Lila.” I pointed to the room camera mounted high in a corner of the wall. “You’re disposable to him—just like everyone else. The minute you finish this job, you’ll be his next loose end.”

She stared at me, her chest rising and falling with shallow, rapid breaths. I could see the fear in her eyes now, the desperation. She wanted out, but she didn’t know how.

“If I help you,” she said finally, her voice barely more than a whisper, “he’ll come after me. I won’t be safe.”

“You won’t be safe either way,” I said, my voice steady. “But with me, you’ve got a fighting chance.”

She stared at me for a long moment, her gaze hard, calculating. I could see the war raging behind her eyes, the pull of misdirected loyalty to Mathias clashing with the undeniable truth she was trying so hard to ignore.

I reached under my pillow for the nurse call button. One push, and I’d have company Lila wouldn’t want. If she lunged with the syringe, I could hold her off just long enough for the cavalry to arrive.

Despite everything, despite the betrayal, there was something about Lila that made me want to get through to her. Something that made me think, maybe, just maybe, she could be saved.

But I was ready. If she forced my hand, I’d protect myself.

“You know I’m right,” I said, my voice low, dangerous. “Mathias will never let you go. But with me? You can live your life free from his control.”

The tension in the room crackled like electricity. The syringe was still in her hand, but it was pointed up now, the needle shaking in her nervous grip.

“I didn’t ask for this,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I didn’t ask for any of it.”

“I know,” I said softly. “But it doesn’t matter. You’re in it now. The only question is—what are you going to do about it?”

Another beat of silence, and then, finally, she dropped the syringe.

It clattered to the floor, the sound echoing through the sterile room like a firecracker going off in the distance. Lila stepped back, her shoulders slumping as if the weight of the decision had drained all the energy from her body.

“I’ll help you,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “But if we fail…”

“We won’t,” I said firmly, though I wasn’t entirely sure. “We’re taking Mathias down. Together.”

She nodded, though her eyes still held that flicker of fear. But there was something else there too now—hope. A sliver of it, fragile and tentative, but enough to keep her going.

“But first,” I instructed. “Let’s get the hell outta here.”

“I have a place,” she revealed. “Somewhere Mathias doesn’t know about.”

She was scared. But she was also angry. And anger was a powerful motivator.

Exiting the hospital was easy. Maybe too easy for my comfort, but we managed to get to her car without incident. We drove in silence, the tension between us thick but unspoken. Lila was still processing everything—her betrayal, her decision to help me, the knowledge that we were both marked for death if we failed. But I could see the resolve in her eyes now, the determination that hadn’t been there before.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked—my vision still not quite returned to normal from the hospital’s cocktail of painkillers.

“Somewhere safe,” she reassured me.

“How come Mathias didn’t catch on to me surviving the tunnel?” I asked as we sped down the dark mountain roads.

“He only found the two men that were chasing you,” she explained. “Buried and dead under a snowdrift—a bullet in each of their heads.”

“So, why didn’t he think I’d done that?”

“Because…” she hesitated to answer, like she was reliving a specific moment in her memory—hiding the truth. She knew I wasn’t a killer, and more importantly, neither did Mathias.

Shaking off whatever demon was making her eyes water, her voice rasping in an ominous tone stated, “…This is far from over, isn’t it?”

I nodded. “Yeah. But we’ll be ready for him.”

In the passenger side mirror, I saw headlights in the distance. Too far away to tell if they were following us, but close enough to keep me on edge.

I wasn’t sure how this would end. I wasn’t sure if we’d make it out of this alive, or if Mathias would catch up with us before we had a chance to expose him. But one thing was clear: I wasn’t running anymore. Well, metaphorically, I was. This damn hospital cocktail was still messing with my reality, but yes… I wasn’t running anymore.

And neither was Lila.

At one point, Mathias thought he owned us. Thought we were expendable in his game. But what he didn’t realize was that pawns could become kings—queens really.

And in this game, Jason Walker wasn’t going down without a fight.

Not this time.

Well, at least not until after the drugs wore off.