late,” he gasped. “They’re all initiated.”
No! Find the most recent. I still have a chance.
The last patient, last two, he corrected, would not be advanced at all.
Barton smiled. He would take them next.
S I X
Darryl’s eyes opened slowly. He saw Doctor Whitmere and a male nurse watching over him.
“Good morning,” Darryl yawned. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “What’s going on?”
“Darryl, today we are going to start your physical therapy. Your vitals are reading well enough to begin testing your strength. Conditioning it, rather. A strong body will lead to a strong mind. How do you feel about that?”
Darryl nodded eagerly. “Anything that gets me out of this room.”
“Good.” Whitmere’s smile remained. “First, eat some breakfast, and then change your clothes.”
The nurse placed some patient clothing on the end of the bed, a pair of slippers too, and then motioned towards the wall where a small cart was placed, a plate of food waiting. Not even the awful taste of the food was enough to discourage him.
Darryl tried to remove his shirt. His chest ached, and he had a hard time.
“Would you like some help?”
Whitmere offered, motioning for the nurse to help Darryl. Darryl sent him a look that suggested he would pass on the offer, and Whitmere did not press the issue.
“Sit upright for a few long moments before you try to stand. We’ll be in the hall, if you need some help.”
“I think I can manage. Thank you, though.”
Whitmere nodded and walked away with the nurse in tow.
When Whitmere was out of the room Darryl began to remove his shirt and jeans, finding that his body ached all over. But he was able enough to change. The outfit he was given was loose fitting, making it easy to put on.
Standing on his own for a second without moving, feeling his blood begin to flow down into his feet, Darryl pulled the tray of food over to him. It was brown and chunky, wet, yet solid, cold in some spots, warm in others, undesirable in any case. Darryl frowned, and began eating. He didn’t care for the bitter taste, but he agreed that it looked worse than it was.
Next to the plate of food were the two orange pills. Twice a day, he thought, wondering what good they were doing. He took them both, hoping they would return his memory as he was told they would.
While eating, he suddenly felt another presence. He slowly turned to the door, which had somehow opened without him knowing, and noticed the nurse standing in the doorway watching. Observing, he corrected. The stare the nurse gave made Darryl uncomfortable. It was almost a curious look, as if he had never seen a man eat before. But even without the strange look, Darryl was finished. He couldn’t eat with someone watching. Turning from the cart to the nurse, Darryl was beckoned to follow. Darryl smiled, anxious to leave the room.
Darryl was led down the hall, turning a corner and walking past several closed doors before the nurse stopped, opened a door and motioned for him to enter. It was a small room with a glass windowed room at its center. Weights were stacked along the side wall. Whitmere stood waiting.
“Darryl, come in.”
Darryl walked in, the nurse staying close to the door. “I made it this far on my own.”
Whitmere smiled. “Good, Darryl. You’re showing me that your body is healing as it should.”
“What are we going to be doing?”
“First, I’m going to have you keep walking.”
Darryl stared quizzically. “Where?”
Doctor Whitmere walked away towards the glass room. Stopping close to it, he pointed to the floor. Darryl followed, seeing now what the doctor was talking about. Built level with the floor was a treadmill-like mat.
“Stand right here and face forward.” Whitmere said.
Forward meant towards the glass room that Whitmere had stepped into, Darryl thought. He watched Whitmere push buttons, while he walked over to stand on the treadmill.
“I’m going to turn this on now, the mat will begin moving. It will be slow at first. Tell me when it becomes too difficult.”
Darryl nodded. “Okay. I’m ready.”
The mat began to move. Darryl walked with it, not having any difficulties. After a few moments he could feel the pace quicken slightly.
“Keep going, Darryl. I need to run some tests.”
Darryl felt a weird sensation in his lower half, but not necessarily one of pain or discomfort. He ran as hard as he could, until sweat began to trickle down his face and back, and his breathing became labored. He was tiring.
Darryl looked into the lab Whitmere was in and saw a hologram of himself appear before the doctor. It was red, showing no skin or hair, only veins and organs, with his chest, brain, and some parts of his limbs a yellowish hue. Whitmere touched the hologram at certain spots and the organs enlarged, moving as if they were alive. Whitmere took his time looking through the hologram, making notes, looking back at Darryl every so often before adjusting the speed.
Darryl’s legs felt heavy and his footfalls awkward, ungraceful at times. It was though he was not used to using them. He was slightly embarrassed. His breathing was short, quick gasps when he finally called out to Whitmere.
“Stop. I need a rest.”
The belt slowed and stopped right away. Winded, Darryl stepped off it, hunching over with his hands on his knees, thinking that he was worked himself too hard. There was a pain in his chest. He was sore all over. His lungs ached in a weird sensation, almost as if something was blocking the air, or at least reducing the amount he was able to inhale.
Darryl coughed, feeling the sweat trickle down his back and neck. His body was beginning to feel cold. Looking up, he saw Whitmere still searching through the hologram. The look in his eyes was intense.
Whitmere worked for a few more minutes, then walked out and over to Darryl. As their eyes met, Whitmere smiled. “Very good, Darryl.”
He walked over to Darryl and checked his pupils and his pulse. He was pleased at what he found.
“How do you feel?”
Darryl’s ragged breathing was calming. “Winded. Sore. But not too bad.”
Whitmere handed him a small towel. Darryl wiped his face and neck. It was water that he really needed.
“How’s about a drink?”
“Of course. The results will need some time to calculate. Let’s get you showered and refreshed. Then I want to test your memory.”
“Sounds good, doc.”
Whitmere led the way back to Darryl’s room. In the hall, they rounded a corner and instantly Whitmere brought them to a halt. His voice broke Darryl’s drifting thoughts. Before them stood Barton with a patient.
“What are you doing?” Whitmere was irritated.
Darryl looked at the doctor, the one with the shifty eyes, who now looked guilty of something, and then to the patient—a woman. She was almost his height, about his age, and instantly captivating. She had blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes.
It took Darryl a few seconds to realize that he was staring. And she was watching. Instinctively, he looked away.
“I’m following your orders,” Barton began slyly.
As Whitmere pulled Barton aside from the patients, Darryl swallowed nervously.
“What’s your name?” she asked at once.
“Darryl. At least, I think it is.”
Adelle smiled. “I’ve never met a man who wasn’t sure what his name was.”
“I have amnesia, so I…” he trailed off, thinking that he sounded ridiculous.
“Small world.” She watched him look away, then casually back. There was something in his eyes that she enjoyed. “So do I. My name is Adelle. At least, I think it is.”
Darryl smiled, broad and genuine. “Have we—”
Whitmere’s yell broke their conversation. They turned to look at the doctors, who were very close to each other. Both were upset.
“You’re jeopardizing—”
“You can let m
e go anytime you want,” Barton growled.
“No, I can’t. And just where did you think you were going?
He lied quickly. “I was taking her to your lab. We’re testing your new serum, correct?”
Whitmere was suspicious for a second. “You and I need to talk. Privately.”
Barton smiled hard. “What about?”
“I’ll see you in my lab shortly.”
Darryl paid little attention to their conversation. His thoughts stayed focused on the woman. And as the doctor with the cold eyes began to escort Adelle past him, he stared into her eyes, watching hers find his, watching them fill with the same fascination. He did not look away as they walked past, staring even as she walked away.
“Darryl,” Whitmere began, “come along.”
Darryl turned around, noticing Whitmere frowning at him. He beckoned Darryl to follow as he walked away. Darryl took one last look at Adelle, and then hurried to Whitmere.
“Who was that?” he asked eagerly.
“That was Doctor Barton. You’ve met him before, Darryl.” Whitmere seemed slightly uncomfortable. “He’s a colleague of mine, a special doctor we’ve brought in to help us with our studies. He’s here advancing our progress with suppressed memories. He’s also working closely on developing cutting-edge technology for human tissue repair. He’s too smart for his own good.”
Darryl looked quizzically. “I was asking about the girl. Who is she?”
Whitmere did nothing to hide his irritation. “A patient; same as you.”
Anything else the doctor said then went unnoticed. Darryl’s thoughts remained on the woman. His brain replayed their brief encounter repeatedly, much to his delight. He remembered the curvature of her face, the soft look of her pouty lips, and
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