by Sadie Moss
There was a soft ding, and a moment later, I was wheeled into a large elevator. Tense silence filled the space, broken only by the rustling sound of my body jerking and my hoarse grunts.
“Is it happening?”
The soft voice was female, but I couldn’t place who it belonged to. Maybe Claudia, one of the older female nurses on staff.
“Shh.” Another voice shushed her.
Doctor Shepherd’s face hovered over me again, his hands resting on my shoulders. “Alexis. Can you hear me? You’re going to be all right. We’ve got you.”
Even as he spoke, I could feel myself fading. I clung to consciousness like a life raft, afraid if I let myself slip under, I’d never come back. I’d seen other patients collapse and be wheeled away, and they almost never returned.
No. I’m not ready to die.
I fought against the muscle spasms rocking my body and tightened my hands into fists, willing luck to come through for me one more time. To let me be the medical miracle who beat the odds. To give me one more chance.
The elevator slid to a stop, and I was rushed down another long hallway, this one all white. I knew that because I’d been down here a few times before, although right now everything around me looked gray as my vision began narrowing to a pinprick.
“Damn it! We’re losing her! Hurry!”
Doctor Shepherd’s panicked voice bounced off the walls.
My eyes rolled back in my head, blackness finally overtaking me.
I drifted, lost in a sea of darkness where my body didn’t hurt. There was nothing bad here, but there was nothing good either. It was just… nothing.
Flashes of light and sound occasionally burst into my consciousness as if someone had turned on a television with the volume all the way up.
“Intubating now!”
A tube was forced down my throat, making me cough and gag.
Then darkness again.
Now I clung to the darkness, the peaceful emptiness, not wanting to return to that room full of chaos and pain.
But I was pulled back by a sharp tearing sound. My eyes flew open as my body sprang upright, and I saw the leather straps that had held me down dangling in pieces beside me. My head whipped around, a feral scream tearing from my mouth.
“Alexis! No!” Doctor Shepherd’s harsh cry drew my attention, and I turned toward him. He dove toward me, a needle in his hand. Before I could move, the needle pierced my skin, and with a pneumatic hiss, the contents emptied inside me.
I fell back, and the world dissolved around me.
“Jesus, that was close.”
“I know. We should’ve been monitoring her more carefully.”
“With all due respect, Doctor Shepherd, I don’t see how we could’ve monitored her more closely. We got to her as quick as we could.”
“And it almost wasn’t quick enough. I want her to be checked twice as often going forward. We’re entering a critical time.”
Doctor Shepherd’s voice was quiet and tired-sounding. Worry weighed down his words. As hazy memories of my episode began to filter into my mind, I felt my heart swell to think that he cared that much. Doctor Shepherd had been the head of the team of doctors assisting me since the first day I arrived here, and even though I was partly just a research project, I’d always felt like he was personally invested in my care beyond that.
I was more than just a body on a gurney to him. I was a person.
My eyelids fluttered, and a small noise escaped me. The hushed conversation around me stopped, and when I opened my eyes, Doctor Shepherd stood over me once again.
“Hey there, Alexis.” He smiled gently, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You gave us all quite a scare.”
“Sorry.” The word felt like a cheese grater on my throat, and I swallowed. My mouth was bone dry.
The middle-aged doctor shook his head. He had bright blue eyes that were often puffy and always a little bloodshot, and today the bags under them were especially pronounced. “Hey, now. You don’t have anything to be sorry for. It wasn’t your fault. I’m just glad you’re still with us.”
I tried to chuckle, but it hurt too much. “Me too.”
“I’m going to give you something for the pain, okay? It’ll knock you out a bit and give you a chance to rest some more. We’ve got your levels back to where they should be, but your body still needs some time to recover.”
Opting not to speak, I dipped my chin in a small nod.
Doctor Shepherd hooked up a new bag to my IV drip, and a moment later, the cocktail of drugs stole me away.
When I woke again, it was to a quiet room filled only with the steady beep of a heart rate monitor and the thrum of a computer.
I blinked slowly. My whole body felt stiff and tired. I was propped up in a hospital bed, covered in a thin sheet and dressed in a medical gown.
But the pain was gone.
I licked my cracked lips and felt around me for the call button. A moment later, Claudia poked her head into the room.
“Ah! Look who’s awake!” The elderly nurse beamed at me as if I’d done something much more impressive than simply lift my eyelids. She bustled into the room, her short, plump frame straining inside her one-size-too-small scrubs. “Do you need something, sweetheart?”
“Water,” I said, my voice weak. My throat didn’t hurt anymore though.
“I’ll do you one better. Here.” She lifted a plastic cup with a closed lid and straw off the counter. It contained a clear pinkish liquid. “This will help with your electrolyte balance too. Drink up. I’ll go get Doctor Shepherd.”
The round-faced woman handed me the cup and turned away.
“Claudia?” I called. She stopped, glancing over her shoulder at me. “What happened? Why did I collapse? I’ve been doing so well.”
She sighed, squinting at me. “You had a little setback, dear. You really have been doing amazingly well, and you shouldn’t let this discourage you. Doctor Shepherd adjusted your meds, and it seems to be working very well.”
I nodded, although I knew it couldn’t be nearly as simple as she made it sound. I’d almost died. I had felt it.
“Okay. Thanks.” She turned to leave, but my voice stopped her again. “Hey, Claudia? My memory is kinda fuzzy, but when we were in the elevator, I think you asked if ‘it’ was happening. What did you mean? What was happening?”
For a second, her face went entirely blank. She stared at me, blinking quickly, then shook her head and gave a rueful laugh.
“Oh, dear. Nothing, sweetie. I didn’t mean anything. I was just worried about you. I wouldn’t have said anything if I thought you could hear me; the last thing I want to do is scare you.” She crossed back over to the bed, cupping my cheek in her warm, soft hand. “We’ve all gotten quite attached to you.”
A lump rose in my throat, and I dipped my head, breaking away from her touch. “Thanks, Claudia.”
“Of course, dear.” She stepped back, straightening her blue scrubs. “I really don’t want you to worry. I know that was scary, but it was just a minor setback. Doctor Shepherd says everything is back on track now. I’ll go get him so you can ask him yourself.”
She bustled out the door, leaving me alone in the room with the quiet beeping. I cleared my throat, blinking against the tears that stung my eyes as I brought the straw to my lips. The liquid was sweet and tasted vaguely like strawberries.
I was so grateful for everything Doctor Shepherd and his staff had done for me. And I was attached to them too. They’d become like a surrogate family to me, people I saw even more often than my own mother. But unease settled in my belly as I recalled the look on Claudia’s face.
She’d seemed almost… frightened.
Had I been closer to death than they were letting on? I felt fine now, but how much could I trust that? Were they lying about my recovery progress? Maybe they just didn’t want to admit defeat.
Before my thoughts could spiral any further, the door cracked open again, and Doctor Shepherd poked his head in.
The smile on his face soothed my nerves instantly. He strode in, glancing down at my chart before meeting my gaze.
“Good news, super trooper.” He beamed down at me. “We’ve got you back on track. You’ll be able to go back to your own suite soon.”
Chapter Three
Doctor Shepherd insisted on having me brought up to the main level in a wheelchair, which was embarrassing and disheartening. But I hadn’t been kidding when I told that cute orderly, Cliff, I’d do whatever the doctor told me to. He had my life in his hands, and my survival depended on following his orders exactly.
That, and maybe a little bit of luck.
I was a bedraggled mess when I finally got to my room. I’d been downstairs in the ICU for over a week so they could monitor me as I recovered from my episode—which I would’ve considered overkill if the whole incident hadn’t scared me so badly. But now I felt disgusting from several days without a shower, as if a gross film coated my entire body.
Marianne, a nurse with squinty eyes and a loud laugh, wheeled me inside, keeping up a running stream of one-sided conversation the entire time.
Cliff looked up in surprise from where he was changing the sheets on my bed. “Oh, hey!” He peered at me more closely. “You okay?”
My cheeks felt like they were on fire, and I looked down, letting my tangled brown hair shield my face. So much for making a good impression the next time I saw him. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just need a shower.”
I stood up, as anxious to wash off the ‘intensive care patient ick’ as I was to get out of Cliff’s sight. But Doctor Shepherd had obviously had a good reason for ordering the wheelchair—my legs buckled as soon as I put all my weight on them, and I stumbled.
Cliff darted toward me, his gray-blue eyes flashing with concern, and caught me under the arms before I went down. The muscles of his large biceps contracted against the sleeves of his scrubs, although it didn’t look like it took him any effort to hold me up.
I blinked up at him stupidly, drowning in the soft blue of his eyes. My arms had gone around his neck instinctively, and his skin was warm and smooth under my fingertips.
He was taller than I’d realized. I had to tilt my head back quite a bit to meet his gaze. A little line appeared between his brows as he frowned down at me, then he glanced over my shoulder at Marianne and set me back gently in the wheelchair.
He cleared his throat. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. Marianne, can you finish the bed?”
“Of course.”
Keeping his head down, Cliff slipped past us and out the door. A trickle of embarrassment slid down my spine. Damn it. He’d seemed really anxious to get out of here. Maybe I really did stink. I tried to surreptitiously sniff my armpits as Marianne pushed me into the bathroom. I couldn’t smell anything, but that probably didn’t mean much. Wasn’t it true you couldn’t smell your own B.O.?
Marianne helped me to the seat in the shower then left the door cracked while she went to make up the bed. Her one-sided conversation picked up again, and I wondered if she knew or cared that I could barely hear her over the sound of the water.
Probably not.
When I finally felt clean, I used a rail on the side of the shower to help pull me to my feet. My legs held this time, although I felt a little lightheaded and wobbly. Doctor Shepherd seemed to think I was okay, so this was probably just regular muscle weakness from being in bed for a week. I walked slowly out of the shower and was halfway dressed by the time Marianne poked her head back in.
“Look at you!” She clapped her hands, smiling proudly at me. “Back on your feet already. You’ll be back to usual in no time! Doctor Shepherd has you booked for training sessions every day this week starting tomorrow. He doesn’t want you to lose too much ground because of this.”
I groaned. “Every day?”
She chuckled understandingly. “Afraid so. I’m sure you’ll have fun. At least it passes the time, right?”
“I guess so. I’m pretty sure Erin’s trying to kill me though.”
Her thick lips pursed. “Now, that’s the last thing she’s trying to do, and you know it.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” I sighed. “It’s all for my own good.”
“Exactly.”
Marianne helped me out of the bathroom and to my bed, although I barely needed her steadying hand anymore. My legs were recovering fast. She left a few minutes later, reminding me to use the call button if I needed anything.
I spent the rest of the day lounging in my room, reading and recovering. I’d become an expert in passing time over the years, but now I found myself oddly restless—so much so that by the next day, I was actually looking forward to my session with Erin.
In one spoke of the wheel shape that made up the Strand complex, we had a huge training yard. It was outfitted with overhead lights that replicated sunlight and had just about every piece of equipment I could imagine. A large open space in the middle was covered by a soft green material probably meant to simulate grass. A track ran around the entire oval-shaped space.
Patients were allowed into the yard even when we didn’t have training sessions, so I spent a lot of time here. It was the closest we got to having access to the outdoors, even though it was a pretty poor imitation.
Doctor Shepherd was a stickler for holistic treatment. In addition to the cocktail of meds we were given daily, our diet and exercise were closely monitored.
There were some patients who were too sick to do much physical activity, but I wasn’t one of those unlucky ones—or lucky ones, as I thought to myself some days. Erin, my trainer, always pushed me hard, leaving me sweaty and exhausted by the end of our sessions. But as much as I complained about them, I relished them too. They were a reminder that I wasn’t dead yet. That my body was still fighting.
“Glad to see you back on your feet.”
Erin smiled at me as I approached. She was short and broad, all stocky muscle and spiky dark hair. I was in pretty good shape, thanks to my work with her, but I’d never match her level of muscle tone.
“Good to be back on my feet.” I smiled wanly, pushing away the memory of stumbling out of my wheelchair. Nothing scared me as much as feeling weak. It made me feel like death was just waiting to pick me off, like a vulture circling a dying animal.
Erin noticed the pinched expression on my face and clapped me heavily on the arm. “Don’t worry. We’ll get you back in tip-top shape in no time. You’re one of my best patients. I won’t let you give up.”
I nodded determinedly, gathering up my long brown hair into a tight ponytail. Over the next hour and a half, she put me through dozens of drills, mostly bodyweight exercises that challenged my strength and agility. I had lost some ground after my time in the ICU, but as my heart rate picked up and my breath quickened, I could feel my body falling into the groove again.
The next day’s session was a little easier, and the day after that too.
By the end of the week, I could almost forget my brush with death had ever happened.
At least, until my mother came to visit.
“Mom, I’m okay! Really.”
The words were almost unintelligible since I spoke them into her armpit. She was a good eight inches taller than me. My dad had died when I was little, but I’d definitely gotten my diminutive 5’3” height from him.
But my mom either didn’t hear or didn’t believe me, because her death grip on me only tightened further.
“I was so worried about you, baby girl.”
I sighed, giving up my struggle and wrapping my arms around her. She only called me “baby girl” when she was really worried. Sometimes I felt like she forgot I’d been growing up this whole time—as if I’d been put into some kind of stasis when I came to live at the Strand complex ten years ago.
Hell, sometimes it felt that way to me too. I was twenty-one, but I had no clue how to be a normal twenty-one-year-old.
She rocked me back and forth, humming my favorite lullaby—the same one she always sang when I was feeli
ng shitty—before finally stepping back to hold me at arm’s length. Her eyes scanned my face, searching for any hint of distress. “Are you all right? Doctor Shepherd said your bloodwork looks good, but how do you feel?”
I looked away, avoiding her gaze. “I feel… fine.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You paused.”
Oops. The woman was an expert in seeing through my bullshit.
I walked over to the small couch set against the back wall and plopped onto it. My mom followed, watching me carefully through her thick glasses. Leaning against one end, I drew my legs up to my chest and turned to look at her.
“I do feel fine, Mom. That’s the problem. I went from fine, to almost dead, to fine again in the space of two weeks. It makes me…” I swallowed, gritting my teeth against the tears that wanted to come. “It makes me not trust ‘fine.’ It makes me think this will never be over.”
Understanding filled her expression. Her caramel brown eyes, so similar to my own, softened. “It will be, Alexis. One day, you’ll be cured. Doctor Shepherd and his staff are working so hard. You’ve come so far. You just have to keep believing.”
I drew in a breath, trying to find the same faith and confidence she had. I’d held onto it for so long, but this last episode had shaken me to the core. For the first time in years, I found myself contemplating what would happen if I was never cured. Could I live my whole life like this? Confined to this medical complex forever—never stepping foot in the outside world? Never experiencing something as simple and basic as going on one stupid date?
Was that really a life worth living?
And even more terrifying, what would happen if the powers that be at the Strand Corporation came to the same conclusion? If my illness was incurable, was I still worth studying? Or would they kick me out of here eventually, leaving me to fend for myself?
My mom seemed to read all the fears and doubts passing through my mind as if I’d spoken them out loud. She brushed a lock of hair back from my face, tucking it behind my ear. “Don’t give up, Alexis. I know it’s so hard. But nothing has changed. You’re still the amazing fighter you always were. Just keep doing what Doctor Shepherd and the others tell you, and you’ll beat this.”