by Sadie Moss
I leaned into her touch, closing my eyes for a moment. I didn’t want her to see the doubt that still reflected in them.
When I met her gaze again, I forced a smile to my lips. “Thanks, Mom. But enough about me and boring medical stuff. How are you? How are classes?”
She smiled, letting me redirect the conversation. “I’m good. Classes are exhausting. And summer is almost here.”
I chuckled. With her glasses and gray-streaked brown hair cut in a classic bob, my mom looked like the quintessential middle school teacher—so it was hardly surprising she’d ended up in that job. Sort of like how guys named Chad were destined to grow up to be douchebags. She seemed to love it, but it was around this time of year that she got as antsy for the summer break as her students.
“What are you going to do over the summer?”
She relaxed back into the couch cushions, considering. “Read some books I’ve been meaning to pick up. Do a little gardening. And visit you a lot more.”
“That would be nice.”
Not just for me, but for her too. I worried about her, even though it was probably silly. But with my dad gone and her only child stuck in a medical complex three hours from her home in Austin, I hoped she wasn’t too lonely. Work kept her busy, but I knew firsthand that filling up your days didn’t always stave off loneliness and heartache.
“Yes, I think so.” The little lines around her mouth deepened as she smiled. Then she sat up straighter, plucking her purse off the couch beside her. “Oh, I almost forgot. I brought you more contraband!”
She pulled several fat books out of her bag, and my face lit up with genuine excitement for the first time since she’d arrived. My mom always knew the perfect thing to get me out of a funk.
We spent several more hours talking and laughing, and by the time she left, I felt a lot better.
But as the door closed behind her, a dark cloud seemed to roll into the room. I stared around at the small space, and despite the years I’d spent here, it felt foreign and sterile.
How much longer could I live like this?
And what other choice did I have?
Chapter Four
“How have you been feeling, Alexis?”
I clenched my jaw, trying not to let my irritation show. The number of times I’d been asked that over the course of my lifetime was staggering. I knew the question came from a good place, but I’d have given anything to never hear those words again.
“Fine.”
“That’s good,” Doctor Shepherd said approvingly. His face hovered inches from mine as he shone a small light into my eyes. I was never sure where to look during these exams, although I probably should’ve figured it out by now. It felt awkward to look away, but equally awkward to stare straight into his eyes. So my gaze darted around the room like a butterfly, flitting from place to place without really landing on anything.
“Look up,” he directed. I obeyed. “Good. And down.”
I followed his directive, and he nodded with satisfaction before moving around to peer into each ear.
“Erin tells me your sessions with her have been going well. And how are your new meds treating you?”
“Fine.” I tensed slightly as he adjusted the back of my hospital gown to place the end of the stethoscope between my shoulder blades. His fingers were always cold. “I’ve been a little lethargic, especially at night, but not too bad.”
“That’s fine.” His voice was as calm and soothing as ever. “That’s an expected side effect. If it gets to be too much, we can adjust your dose. Breathe in.”
My ribs expanded as I pulled in a deep lungful of air. Then I released it slowly. Despite the paper covering the exam table, the chill of the metal seeped into my legs. The gown was tied at the back of my neck, but all I had on beneath it was a pair of underwear, and as Doctor Shepherd’s chilly fingers moved the stethoscope to a new spot on my back, goose bumps raised the hair on my arms.
He listened to me take a few more long breaths before pulling the stethoscope out of his ears and draping it around his neck. He retied the gown at my mid-back, then grabbed my chart and sat on his rolling stool, using his feet to steer it a little closer to the exam table where I perched.
“Well, everything looks good, kiddo. I think we’re back on track. Do you have any questions for me?”
The word “no” was on the tip of my tongue, but when I opened my mouth, what actually came out was, “Do you think I’m going to die in here?”
Doctor Shepherd stopped writing on my chart.
He looked up at me slowly, little crow’s feet pinching the corners of his eyes as he squinted. “Why do you say that, Alexis?”
I swallowed, wishing like hell I could take back what I’d just blurted. This was supposed to be a medical exam, not a counseling session. But while he’d promised me I was doing all right physically, I was anything but okay mentally and emotionally. I felt like I’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop my entire life, and now it was hanging over me. I had no idea why I’d suddenly lost my faith in the healing process, why I’d suddenly become so impatient for a resolution. I wanted to get my equilibrium back, but I had no clue where to find it.
“I… I don’t know. I guess lately I’ve just started to wonder if it’s ever going to happen. If I’ll ever be cured. I mean, what if I’m not? Will you guys really take care of me forever?”
Doctor Shepherd regarded me seriously, resting his elbows on his knees and lacing his fingers together. “I can’t say anything with one hundred percent certainty, you know that. I won’t give you false promises. But I will tell you this, Alexis. Everyone in this building is invested in you. You are important to us. Beyond the science. Beyond the medicine. You are important to us.”
A warm feeling bloomed in my chest, and even though it was sort of awkward having this conversation with my doctor, his words helped a lot.
“Thanks, Doc.” I scratched my ear, blushing slightly. “I guess it’s just good to know you guys see me as more than my disease.”
“You’re much more than that, Alexis.” He smiled, rubbing the small tattoo on the inside of his wrist with the thumb of his opposite hand. It wasn’t a cross, but I was pretty sure it was some kind of religious symbol. “There are things in this world even science can’t explain yet. Faith is important. Have you visited the chapel recently?” He held up his hands, chuckling softly. “I’m not going to tell you who to pray to, but I will tell you it’s important that you believe in something. Without hope, without faith, what is any of this for?”
The sentiment was so similar to what I often told myself that I glanced up to meet his gaze, surprised. I hadn’t visited the chapel in weeks—it was set in another spoke that extended out from the main hub, one I didn’t venture down often. But when I used to go more regularly, I sometimes saw Doctor Shepherd there.
“How do you find the balance?” I asked, aware this conversation was veering into strange territory, but unable to tamp down my curiosity. “Between faith and science?”
Doctor Shepherd’s smile widened, and his eyes gleamed with excitement. “I don’t need to, kiddo. At some point, the two intersect. And that’s where miracles happen.”
He looked almost like a kid talking about his favorite game or a new toy. His enthusiasm was contagious, and I found a little of my old confidence returning.
That’s where miracles happen.
I could be a miracle. I could beat the odds.
Running a hand down my arm to smooth the goose bumps that still lingered there, I grinned back at him. “I like that. Thanks, Doctor Shepherd.”
“No problem, Alexis.” He wheeled back toward the small desk in the corner, peering at my chart. “Now, I’ve got you—”
A sound in the distance interrupted him, and he broke off abruptly, lifting his head.
The sound came again.
A rapid pop-pop-pop, as if someone were setting off firecrackers down the hall.
“What’s that?”
Even
as I asked, a cold feeling flooded me, and my heart stuttered in my chest.
Before he could answer, shouts and screams echoed from down the hallway, followed by the sound of feet pounding against the tiled floor. An alarm blared through the complex, so loud and shrill it made me jump. I’d never heard a siren like this, not even when one of the patients coded like I had.
Doctor Shepherd froze. His eyes went wide, and he half stood from his stool, a shocked expression on his face.
I threw my hands over my ears, trying to block out the screeching siren as I yelled over its noise. “What’s happening? What is it?”
He didn’t answer.
My heart was galloping in my chest now, confusion and fear twisting my insides. Whatever this was, it wasn’t normal. It wasn’t even on the far edge of normal.
It was wrong, and very, very bad.
The handle of the only door into the room rattled. I yelped, turning toward it. The door didn’t open, and the handle shook harder. Locked. Had it always been locked? Or was it some kind of automatic shutdown that went along with the sirens?
It didn’t matter in a second though, because two more loud pops sounded, and the lock blew away in a shower of splinters. The door flew open as someone kicked it from the other side, and Doctor Shepherd finally leapt into action. He threw himself toward me, the force of his movement sending the rolling stool careening into the wall behind him. His hand latched around my upper arm, dragging me off the exam table.
Another pop of gunfire filled the room, louder and closer this time, and I screamed. Doctor Shepherd grunted in pain, releasing his grip on me. Blood sprayed from a wound on his arm as he staggered backward, going down near the medical supply cabinet along one wall.
I stood in the middle of the room, numb with shock, as the man with the gun strode inside, his steps smooth and controlled as a stalking cat. He was striking, with short, wavy brown hair and a slightly crooked nose that looked like it’d been broken at least once. He must’ve been close to my age, but the hard expression on his face made him look older.
He swept the gun around the room before training it on Doctor Shepherd again.
“Where’s Sariah?” he growled.
“Sariah?” Doctor Shepherd inched backward toward the wall, gripping his wounded arm with one hand. Blood welled between his fingers. “I… I don’t know who that is.”
“Goddamnit.” The man sneered in disgust. “Of course you don’t. Why learn their names, right?”
More shouts came from outside. Raised, angry voices. More feet running. I stood paralyzed, my gaze darting back and forth between the intruder and Doctor Shepherd.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Doctor Shepherd gasped. He’d wedged himself into a nook where the cabinet met the wall, and he grimaced in pain as blood continued to seep from his right arm, staining the sleeve of his white lab coat.
“Sariah!” the man repeated, both hands steadying his weapon. “Eighteen years old. Black hair. She was at the compound outside San Diego before they shut it down. Is she here?”
Something shifted in Doctor Shepherd’s face. The fear that had twisted his features faded, replaced by an almost condescending glare. “No. She’s not here.”
The new man swore softly under his breath. His gaze flicked to me, and for the first time since he’d entered, he seemed to truly take me in. I was only wearing a hospital gown, and under the scrutiny of his amber eyes, I felt completely naked, as if he could see right through to my soul.
His attention lingered on me for a second too long… and in that second, Doctor Shepherd moved.
Letting go of his injured arm, the doctor slid his left hand behind the medical supply cabinet. When he pulled it out, a gun was clutched in his grip.
The intruder’s head whipped back toward him, his hand tightening on his own weapon.
Two shots pierced the air.
Chapter Five
I covered my ears as the gunshots rang out, screaming into the void of noise and chaos.
A hole appeared in the wall inches from Doctor Shepherd’s head, and the shot he’d fired toward the brown-haired intruder went wide.
The man dove to the side as Doctor Shepherd aimed again. A third shot echoed in the sterile room as the man slammed into me, bringing me to the floor with a heavy thud. We landed behind the large metal exam table, its hefty bulk separating us from Doctor Shepherd.
For a split second, I was acutely aware of the muscled body pressed on top of mine. He was hard everywhere, much bigger than me, and he smelled distinctly male—like sandalwood and musk. I could feel every contour of his body through the thin layers of fabric that separated us, could feel his heart slamming behind his ribs, almost as fast as mine. Our faces were mere inches apart, and his amber eyes locked with mine, his long lashes dipping as he stared at me.
Then the moment broke.
The man rolled off me, ejecting the magazine from his handgun as he did. He reached into his back pocket then jammed another magazine into the weapon. Another shot hit the exam table, sending up a loud metallic ringing noise, and the man cursed.
I pulled my arms and legs in tight. I had no idea what was happening, why Doctor Shepherd had a gun, or who this man was, but my body instinctively made itself smaller, trying to avoid getting hit by a stray bullet.
Whipping his arm over the top of the exam table, the intruder let off another shot. A small rolling medical supply tray toppled as Doctor Shepherd threw himself away from the wall.
As the metal tray hit the floor with a clang, scattering needles, bandages, and antiseptic, the brown-haired man grabbed my hand, yanking me to my feet. He pulled me toward the door, laying down suppressing gunfire over my shoulder. I screamed and ducked—the gunshots had gone off so close to my head that my ears rang.
“Come on! I’ll get you out of here!” he yelled. I saw his lips move, but his words sounded like they came from deep underwater, muffled and hazy.
Before I could even sort through what he wanted, we were running through the hall. The man had such a tight grip on my hand that I could barely feel my fingers, and I was in such a state of shock that it was all I could do to put one foot in front of the other. The siren continued to blare overhead, tearing through the air like a knife. The man shot the lock off a staff door and pulled me through, dragging me up a set of access stairs.
“Up here. Go! Go!”
My uncoordinated feet slipped halfway up, and I smashed my shin into the concrete stair, sending pain shooting up my leg. I fell down three steps and would’ve probably tumbled all the way back to the landing if the guy hadn’t still had a death grip on me.
He hauled me up, still holding the gun in his other hand. My bare feet scrabbled at the concrete until I finally found my footing, and then we were running again.
On the next floor up, he shoved open the door with his shoulder, pointing the gun into the hallway as he whipped his head back and forth. It was empty.
This was a floor I’d never been on before. I hadn’t even known it existed. It looked similar to the lab area below the main complex where I lived—what I’d seen of it, anyway. The hallway up here was clean and sterile, with tastefully decorated walls and marble floors. But the calming effect was destroyed by the alarm that seemed to blare even more harshly up here.
The man pulled me out of the stairwell and down the hall. His heavy boots rang loudly on the polished marble while my bare feet slapped a discordant rhythm. His grip on my hand finally loosened a bit, allowing me to wiggle my fingers. We passed an intersecting hallway, and I glanced down it as we hurtled by.
My breath stuck in my throat.
Mom.
I’d only caught a quick glimpse down the hall, but I was absolutely sure I’d seen her. My mom was here.
Without even thinking, I ripped my hand from the man’s grasp. The action took him by surprise, which was probably the only reason I managed to break his grip.
He called out behind me, but I didn’t hear him. I
didn’t even think about the fact that he very well might shoot me in the back as I ran away.
All I knew was that my mom was here, and I had to get to her.
I careened around the corner into the new hallway, my hospital gown flapping as I ran. My mom stood at the end of the hall where it met another corridor, and she looked up at the sight of me. Her brown eyes went wide behind her thick glasses. My heart clenched with a mixture of relief and worry.
I needed to get to her. I needed to tell her to get out of here.
Putting on an extra burst of speed, I raced toward her, a breathless cry rising to my lips.
She blinked twice then reached behind her, pulling something from the waistband of her jeans.
When her hands reappeared, time seemed to slow.
A gun.
My mom was holding a gun, its thick black grip resting easily in the palm of her hand. Her other hand came up to meet it, cradling the butt of the gun as she steadied it, bringing it up to aim straight at me.
My feet skidded on the slippery marble floor as my body tried to reverse its forward trajectory too fast, and I went down hard on my ass. A shot rang out, and my blood turned to ice. A bullet whizzed over my head, exactly where my torso had been just a second earlier.
Shock overtook me.
I couldn’t move.
I couldn’t breathe.
Mom. What are you doing?
She began to walk toward me, bringing down her arms a bit to aim the barrel toward my head.
I stared at it. Saw the small hole at the end where a bullet would burst forth to end my life. Saw the clean, dark lines of the metal, the gentle but firm way she held it in her grip. Her arms were braced, locked out in front of her, and her lips were set in a thin, firm line.