Why am I the only one who gets my treatment in the spine? I still get all the chemicals the others get intravenously, but I get this, too. I've never seen them do a spinal on anyone else.
****
Where he came from, they were taught not to be emotional. Emotion was deadly! It caused you to break cover.
But unlike the others stationed here, the one who called himself, Doctor Harmon, had learned the pretext of showing compassion; sometimes, it wasn't all put on either. He really didn't like to see this one hurt.
When he'd seen her IV site festering, he knew drastic measures were needed, but he couldn't do it himself. Even when the nurse was squeezing out the puss, he had turned away, so as not to watch. He knew the patient had seen the tears forming in his eyes, before he could hide them.
And his weakness angered him.
Surely, there is an easier way to form what we want; why must we torment them so?
This one was so full of questions. Right now, she had another one, he found hard to counter.
"How come, I have to have this procedure in my back? Are there others who get it this way?"
How can I tell her? She is receiving foreign altered cells from an alien donor?
He thought quickly, fabricating according to the diagnoses she'd been given.
"Because the tumor is in the sinus area, we need to get to it as quickly as possible. The straightest course is directly into the spinal fluid, up to the brain, and into the nasal area."
She was quiet, then; satisfied.
Why must they be so trusting? This one believes nothing without being given the reason. Yet, she has faith in me. Why? I am no different than the others. Is it my manner...the sympathy? Perhaps, this trait is not wise to portray?
If she only knew what I am actually doing to her...she would run so far from me; never let me touch her again.
****
"All done," the physician declared, pulling shut her gown, giving her shoulder a pat, and pushing away from behind Gemma.
He moved away so quickly, as if he didn't wish to interact further, and had disappeared around the corner, before she could turn around.
At least it didn't hurt. But, now for the more difficult part.
She was required to lie flat on her back on the bed, her head lower than her feet, not moving, for an hour. The hardest part would be holding her water that long.
Gemma sighed resignedly, and got up onto the bed. The nurse lowered the head-end of her cot.
At least, I went potty in their stupid hat before my treatment!
It seemed to her, she was always filling that annoying thing, that up-side-down pot, that fit into the stool. The nurses called it a hat, and that's just what it looked like...all, so they could measure her output. It was so utterly public!
Embarrassing!
Chapter 7
At last, Gemma was back at home!
Three weeks between each treatment.
But, what they had failed to prepare her for, was that there would be extended hospital stays. During the three separate encounters, when she added them together, she had spent nearly five weeks on the hospital oncology floor.
First, it had been the Thrust; then, the infected IV site, and this last time, something had gone very wrong with her heart. It now had a new crazy beat.
The nurses, at first, had considered it amusing, an anomaly, something they marveled at, that was actually audible to their ears. It was like she had a second sleeper heart behind her own organ; every couple of beats came an echo. Gemma could feel it when it happened. It caught her breath...actually hurt.
A specialist was called in. He came with a parade of interns, each listening to the bizarre beat, amazed at the phenomenon, but none seemed the least bit alarmed.
After a sonogram; more blood tests, and even a full body PET scan, the head professional prescribed a medication that seemed to calm the unusual sound, hushing that extra echo, so it was no longer in evidence.
When the physician came back alone to her bedside, he told Gemma, it was nothing to worry about; everything was proceeding as planned. She took him at his word, leaving the hospital, without giving it another thought.
She had her medication; all would be fine.
If they don't feel it is dangerous, then why should I worry?
Trouble was, when she looked at the prescription bottle she realized, it had no refill, and she'd been given only a month's supply.
Now, what's up with that?
****
They had told her; next step was radiation, and true to their word, these treatments began two weeks later. First, she was fitted with a confining mask that formed to her features. She was to lay on the hard metal table, her eyes shut, the apparatus strapped over her entire face; it was clamped to the table, as well, so she couldn't get free if she'd wanted to.
Everyone left the room, and for fifteen minutes, Gemma listened to the noises of a room she couldn't see. The machines clunked into position, whirled around her, constantly changing location, again and again. Each time she was aware of the red beam moving over her face. If it went elsewhere, she couldn't tell.
It never hurt. Though, when she returned home after the sessions, her nose had a continual bloody drip...nothing alarming, only annoying, for it drained down her throat at night, giving her a constant cough.
This new department wasn't at all like oncology, where the attention of the nurses and CCA's were ever there to see to your needs. Here, they seemed to feel, you were at their beck and call. An appointment could change at a moment's notice, and you were expected to be available. If it had not been for the volunteer drivers who chauffeured her, Gemma would have missed many an appointment.
Actually it was one of those drivers who over booked, nearly causing Gemma to be late. In the end, they sent a taxi instead.
The first taxi driver was indeed a character. He told her, he was fasting for a month long religious festival. He couldn't eat or drink from sunup until darkness; not even a sip of water, but after nine-thirty at night, his people could eat anything they wanted; could even pig-out until morning, if they choose. The thought brought Gemma up short.
That isn't fasting! Not when you can eat all you want in the evening. You are just changing the time of your meal.
"Why?" she asked.
"To remind us, there are others who go without food."
Gemma was appalled.
And they do this all month? He can't even drink...all day long, and HE is driving me? My life is in HIS hands!
Am I safe?
The second time she was forced to take a cab, that driver extolled the benefits of his beliefs; told her, because she was suffering so much, she was assured of making it into paradise.
Because each new driver seemed to be an immigrant from another country, Gemma got the uncanny feeling she was being watched, scrutinized and graded.
Where are all our home grown people; those who were born here? Are all the jobs only given to the foreigners?
Thankfully, the help program didn't fail her too often.
****
Doctor Gee removed the chart from the pocket in the door, opened it, and stopped short in surprise. He was so used to this by now; most patients being utterly pointless, but here was a tagged one, a prospect he could consider.
I am so tired of serving here. How many years have I been buried in their society? I long to find my partner, and go back home.
If this one is at all suitable, I will cut my loses. Fifty years is too long to be waiting!
Apparently, he had seen this one several times.
Why did I not notice her status before? Perhaps, because there is always another female worker in the room distracting me?
He opened the door; walked forward, hand outstretched to take hers.
She appeared ashamed of her bald head, usually keeping it covered with some sort of kerchief, but today she had removed the covering, anticipating that he would want to see into her eyes.
Why she's
beautiful! This one is it! I will remove her from the system, so no one else can have her!
****
Her treatments had continued every day for a full five weeks.
Gemma most detested when she must be examined by the attending physician. Once a week, the man reviewed her progress, sticking a probe up her nose as if he were enjoying her discomfort. He stood over her, with the band holding the lamp around his forehead, oblivious to the fact it was blinding her with its brightness.
He was an elderly gentleman, who appeared totally out of it, seemed away in some other dimension. Sometimes, he peered around the room as though it was unfamiliar, as if he wasn't certain of where he was. Though he had met her a couple of times, interviewed her at the beginning, he never seemed to remember that he had.
Nor did he ever listen to her complaints. It didn't matter what she told him, he simply ignored it. Gemma had learned, it was useless to answer the question: 'How are you today?' He didn't want an answer.
It was always: "Everything is progressing beautifully."
Are you kidding me? My nose is constantly bleeding; my ear is infected. Can't you see? You say, this is normal?
But today was the worst. He stood grinning like a Cheshire cat, as if he could eat her, should she let him.
"This is the last visit before you are finished," he stated. "Your treatments will be over in two days."
Gemma knew it was pointless to ask him, what was to happen next.
****
That Friday, Gemma had the last of her radiation therapy. She was so glad when it was over.
It was customary to ring the bell on the wall in the hall, to tell everyone you had survived, and finished your treatments. Gemma gave it a joyful tug as she went on by, but...
Though it resounded through the department, it was too late in the day for anyone else to be there. No one but the nurses heard it.
They, at least, applauded.
Now, if they would just tell me if this worked. Is my deadly beasty destroyed?
Chapter 8
Left alone at last, Gemma tried to adjust to the abrupt lack of activity. Her apartment seemed an alien place. Unfamiliar. It was difficult to get back to the routine of her real life.
Work was out of the question. She was a free lance writer, but ideas appeared to escape her, like her imagination had dried up while she'd been sick, and would always be a barren landscape from now on.
Besides, there seemed to be something wrong with her eyes; they slipped out of focus, and her vision was continually blurred; parts of the picture had small gaps in it. She could move her eyes, and a space in the image would be missing.
Her hearing also, would come and go. At times, she could hear the people out in the hallway; on other occasions, the world was unusually silent.
Left adrift, waiting for the next contact from the Cancer Center, Gemma did not know whom to turn to. Should she even tell anyone?
She had dreams at night, where her mind seemed on super drive. Her sense of her body was different; it was transparent, so she could see inside: there were twin hearts, three kidneys, one behind the other two, and many unusual organs...yet, she was familiar with their function, as if she'd been trained in the alien anatomy.
Her brain, too, performed at a level never used in the past.
But, it is all a dream; isn't it? It can't be true.
When she looked into the mirror next morning, her outward appearance was the same: short legs, hips more rounded than before, flat belly, slim waist, and she felt...her breasts would always be inadequate. Too small. But on the outside, she was, as usual.
Even the hair atop her head was finally growing back; very short and prickly, a tight mass of blond-white, sticking up, fuzzy and almost...but not quite, curling.
Beneath a short biker's kerchief, Gemma chose to hide this new development, when she did venture out, which was rare, lately.
She kept trying to contact her sister, Bella, but Gemma always got the answering machine, and Bella never returned the calls. By now, Gemma felt more like an orphan; she really had no family.
Let her be a jerk, then; if that's the way she wants it. She was never there for me the whole time this has been happening...I don't really need her, anyway!
Gemma knew Bella was there. Sometimes, the line would be busy. And it was her sister's recorded voice on the message machine...
With her continual lack of energy, Gemma didn't feel like taking a bus across town to visit her sister, to confront her, so, things were left as they were.
A month turned into six weeks. At last, in the mail, Gemma received her final follow-up appointment.
Maybe, they will, at last, tell me they've conquered the Cancer? That the beasty is dead, and I am a survivor...I can go on with my life, again.
****
Loni could feel the excitement in the air. Even here in the gardens, though this harvest wasn't the usual kind, the atmosphere was energized.
Another crop of females was ready, and the first had begun to come through. The arrivals would continue for the better part of the year, but the evidence would be seen, heard, and felt ...even down here among the workers.
It had been years since Loni had seen a woman. Sometimes, in the past, after their arrival, you could see the new ones, walking in the landscaped park area, with their appointed males. Some would yet be normal, not having conceived, others appeared in various stages of motherhood. Most were very beautiful, causing those without partners to be envious; others were of average appearance, and some were downright ugly, but...they were female. To be cared for, and treasured. They were the hope of a future generation.
Then soon, the nurseries would fill up, and from above, in the distance, you could hear joyful, excited laughter, as the babies began to grow.
It was a happy place, beneath the dome, then...for a while.
But next came the purge.
That was the time when they sorted out the young, removing them from their mothers, and ...destroying all those that were female.
Loni remembered those times well; each month his mother had hid him, for years, until he was a youth, full grown.
Even down here in the gardens, the sounds triggered the memories: screams of anguish; the liquid reverberations of their butchering brutality. He could sense the blood lust of the eliminators.
Why? Why must this be done?
A long time ago, Loni had read it from the minds of their leaders.
Centuries previous, they had made it law: No female of the original race would be permitted to live past its first year; all females born after would be killed, for the safety of the male population.
And why? Because, girl babies, as they matured, were far more intelligent than their male companions; also, they aged more slowly, after reaching a certain age, causing them to live ten times as long.
In the beginning, a powerful, jealous man had seen the dangerous probabilities, rebelled ...and instead of working with his gifted population, made certain, there would never be that uneven dominance.
'Breeder females must come from the more primitive race,' they had agreed. And so, the experiments, far away in another place, continued. The results were this yearly harvest.
Mighty physicians came back at this time, from the other side, on leave, choosing, or having already chosen, a partner. Life began all over again...when the intelligent men bred.
But it was never so down in the gardens. The workers were the rejects...there were rarely breeder females for them.
If they only knew what they had placed among the castoffs...the protection they have unwittingly given to one such as me.
Loni remembered how his mother had died. She had hid her talents, from those in control, for many years, after being separated from her son, but when they had finally discovered the smallest inkling of what she could do, she, too, had been put to death. Rather than admit, they had actually created a female like those of old, her existence was erased from the records of their experiments.
Loni had learned a hard lesson by that: it was better to be thought dumb, than to ever let anyone know they had a male of like caliber in their presence. He kept what he could do to himself.
As for the law; there was little he could do about that. Without exposing himself to a death sentence, he could not help anyone. He would wait, until the time was right.
As yet, he was not fond enough of any other to risk his life for them.
Chapter 9
Gemma wanted to skip with joy. She was free! No more chemo; no more radiation; no more stupid doctor's appointments. The tumor in her sinuses was gone!
"We'll have to have a follow up in about three months," the physician had told her. "But, yes, you can go on with your life. Just remember to eat well, get lots of rest...take a holiday..."
That last wasn't even in the background, as far as Gemma was concerned. Though she had some savings, she'd been using them to get by, and slowly, depleting them. It wasn't wise to take a trip or tour.
Besides, she was a coward, frightened to travel alone. She had finally gotten through to Bella, but her sister was like a cold fish, distant, and uncommunicative. She would never consider accompanying Gemma anywhere.
What is it with her? Is she afraid if she gets close again, she'll be responsible for me? Man! She can be so selfish, sometimes!
****
Peering at the film on the viewer, the physician commented to his companion.
"This one has been ripe for some time. How come she hasn't been gathered in before this?"
The other grunted derisively. "Two reasons: first, she was put on hold...she's been claimed."
"All the more reason, she should have been on her way," interrupted the other. "What is the second reason?"
"Smarter than most. All through treatment, she questioned every detail. We had difficulty keeping ahead of her. Now, she fails to fall for the usual methods we use to draw them in..."
"Well...give her a free trip..."
"We have been trying. She always hangs up on the recorded message; won't let it play long enough to get the subliminal message."
Monsters Among Us (Deception Series Book 1) Page 4