something far more exciting in her eyes. He desperately wanted to know her.
“Darryl,” Whitmere spoke his name again.
Darryl looked up, not remembering the trip down the hall, or entering his room to where they now stood. The nurse had a door opened at the far side of his room; one he never saw until now. There was a shower inside. The water was already running. Whitmere was pointing to a towel on a hanger inside the room. His thin lips were moving, saying something. His eyes were filled with annoyance. Then he was walking away. The nurse stared at him for a moment, and then he too walked away.
It may all have been imagined. Darryl’s thoughts were still too wrapped up in the woman known as Adelle to be concerned with anything else.
S E V E N
She smiled, unable to do anything else. The chance encounter had taken her by surprise. He looked gruff, rugged, the way she liked men to look. He was slightly taller than her with an athletic build. But as appealing as that all was, the look in his brown eyes was even more-so. She could not have helped herself from staring. Even when he had looked away, her gazed remained fixed. There was something in those eyes that had made her feel at peace. They made her feel comforted. There was a life in them that was absent in everyone else.
Walking away from him now, she stole a quick look back. He was already walking in the other direction.
Adelle smiled. Finally, things are looking bright.
Nothing was passed between herself and Barton as they walked. She had given up anything resembling a conversation as he had simply shut her out completely at each attempt. He offered nothing. She settled with that. Her thoughts stayed on the man with the dreamy eyes. Barton’s were much darker. She could almost feel the tension around him. His footfalls sped, hers also, trying to catch up, to keep pace without having to be pulled along so often.
“What’s the rush?” she asked.
Barton grunted something beneath his breath. He had decisions to make, and fast.
The grip on Adelle’s hand tightened, squeezing her thin fingers hard. She nearly jerked in response. She looked over to the doctor leading her, but his face was a mask of dark moods and blacker thoughts. The encounter with the other doctor left him so. The tension between them was obvious. Whatever had taken place definitely put him in a sour mood.
Barton led his last patient to Whitmere’s lab, opened the door, and pulled her in. He motioned for her to sit; there was a chair next to a table. He turned away and began looking through Whitmere’s things. He was quick, eyes scanning everything, searching and thinking frantically. Whitmere would arrive soon. He had little time to discover what he could.
He quickly checked every drawer, every cabinet, and every other place that Whitmere would be able to hide something. He found nothing. Then he went to Whitmere’s desk. One drawer was locked. Barton tugged and pried, but it wouldn’t open. He knew what he wanted was in there. But he didn’t have time to break it open without Whitmere knowing. Not now, anyway.
“Is everything okay?” Adelle’s voice was laced in worry. She was given no response.
Barton made Adelle uncomfortable. The way he didn’t bother answering her now made her worry. She watched him move fast, feeling very vulnerable. Whatever he was doing, he didn’t want anyone to know about it.
Barton saw a small case and opened it. Vials filled with a silver liquid. Quickly he took one out and put it into his pocket. It’s what Whitmere had been working on. It was his newest serum; the one he thought would change everything.
“What are you doing?” Adelle asked.
Barton turned suddenly, as though he didn’t realize she was even there. He walked over to her; her eyes flush with concern.
“What treatments have you been given so far?”
“Some pills.”
“Has Whitmere or anyone else administered any injections?” Barton pressed.
She wasn’t sure. “I think there was one, when they first brought me in.”
Barton checked her arms. One needle mark. He was relieved. That would have been his shot. No one else had touched her.
Adelle swallowed hard, watching him stare into her as if he was reading her thoughts, as if he could see everything about her. “Is everything alright?”
“Do you have any headaches? Chest pains? Weak or faint spells? Shortness of breath? How much do you remember?”
Adelle was nervous. “I don’t remember anything. I feel fine, mostly.”
“You’re taking the pills?”
Adelle nodded. She felt like a scolded little kid. “I take two pills with every meal.”
“Don’t take another.” Barton said sternly.
“Doctor Whitmere said they’ll help my memory come back.” She was confused.
Barton shook his head. He spoke quickly. “That’s not what they do. Don’t swallow them; don’t chew them.”
“Sure. Whatever you want.” She nodded with uncertainty.
She saw relief in his eyes then. His posture relaxed and the anger coating his face was washed clean. He smiled at her then. It did little to comfort her.
“Good, Adelle.” Barton pulled his injection gun out of his pocket. “I’m going to give you a shot now. It’s going to hurt a little. Don’t be afraid.”
Barton prepared a needle. He paused suddenly, looking back to the door, thinking he heard someone approaching. But no one showed, and he worked faster. With the needle pressed against her pale forearm skin, he began the injection.
“What is this going to do to me?” she asked, a hint of fear in her voice.
“It’s going to reverse everything.”
Adelle was worried. “You mean, it’s going to help reverse my amnesia?”
Barton’s eyes were cold. “You don’t have amnesia.”
Adelle panicked, but her body suddenly became racked in pain not allowing her to speak. Barton stood, hiding his tools into his pockets, listening to someone open the door.
Adelle wanted to scream. She was struggling for air. There were sharp spasms in her brain, throbbing terribly. Something was atrociously wrong. Darkness pooled at the edges of her vision, swirling into the center. She barely made out the confused look in Whitmere’s eyes before the blackness enveloped her.
“What happened?” Whitmere asked, watching Adelle’s eyes close. She slumped to the side of the chair. Whitmere checked her breathing and pulse.
“Phase one.” Barton didn’t make eye contact. He didn’t stand near Whitmere as he checked over Adelle.
“She’s in shock.” Whitmere was concerned. “How much did you give her?”
Barton shrugged. “Reactions are always different. The outcome is what matters. You know that better than I.”
Silence fell over the room. The doctors stood for a few moments, watching her body movements slow.
“She could die,” Whitmere said.
Barton shrugged. “Many have.”
Whitmere turned to face him, curious as to why Barton would have thought otherwise. “What did you do?”
“I do what it takes, doctor. That’s why I’m here.”
They were quiet for a moment while they each studied the other. Then Whitmere sighed and began speaking with a hint of suspicion.
“I had a patient die today. Her body jelled from the inside out. It was strange and odd to be happening now. I have not seen it in years.”
Barton said nothing.
“What do you suppose happened?”
“Is this what you wanted to see me about? A dead patient?” Barton was annoyed.
“No one else had access,” Whitmere began with irritation.
Barton enjoyed the cat and mouse game. He smiled, lying through his teeth. “I haven’t killed anyone, doctor. Interrogate your own people.”
The suspicion didn’t leave Whitmere as he stared at the other. Barton held his gaze briefly, and then turned back to the table.
“What are you working on here?” he asked.
Whitmere walked over to where his silver liquid vials were. He remo
ved one from it case, holding it up level to his eyes. “This has twice the magnitude of what we’ve been working with. It’s untested, of course. But stable.”
Barton shrugged carelessly.
Whitmere’s words were charming and slow. “You’re not curious at all by what this could mean? Everything’s simplified. Less testing with faster results. It’s a work in progress still. I am but one man, one mind. But together…Well, together we could—”
“And then what happens to me?” Barton’s face tightened. His jaws clenched down hard. His sarcastic tone was not overlooked.
They were quiet for a moment. Barton waited for a response, watching the old doctor swirl his serum in the vial, watched his eyes dance with desire. Barton stiffened as Whitmere turned towards him. The smile was gone; his old eyes knowing nothing of childhood dreams.
“Let me ask you this, old friend.” Whitmere began. “If you were allowed to leave, where would you go?”
If? Barton could feel the heat flush his face. If?
Whitmere laughed casually. “Let me rephrase my question. Where could you go? Surely you realize how much you’ve changed since arriving. Your adaptation is severe. I can help you, as I said before, but the outcome may not be one hundred percent. There’s no guarantee. And if you left in the state you are in now, at this stage, you would risk your own life. You may want to rethink any sort of hasty leave.”
“I’ll take my chances,” he said, his lips barely moving. He kept his fury in check.
“A poor decision, my friend. Even for you.” Whitmere’s smile disappeared.
“I’ll live with it.”
“So, there’s nothing you will stay for? Not me, not our work, or
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