by G. R. Lyons
“Alright, we will,” Graeden assured him, opening the man's file. “How long has it been hurting?”
“Two weeks,” the patient said. “And it's getting worse.”
“Where does it hurt, precisely?”
“They've already asked me that a dozen times!” the man shouted, gesturing at the file. “Just make it stop!”
Graeden looked down at the file and scanned the different sets of handwriting there, noting that the man had been in to the hospital several times over the past two weeks but had been turned away each time because he could still work.
“Gods be damned,” he muttered, and saw Zhadeyn come back into the room as he looked up at his patient. “Why don't you come sit down, and we'll run some checks, alright?”
“I don't want checks!” the man said, gesturing wildly. “I want pain killers, now! Something! Anything!”
“Alright,” Graeden said, ducking out of the way as the man swung his arms out. All around him, others stopped to watch as the man began shaking with anger. “Just stay calm and we'll–”
“Aaarrrgh!” the man roared, sweeping an arm along the counter, knocking aside papers and vials and bandages.
Doctors, nurses, and other patients backed away as the man turned and grabbed a tray, hurling it across the room. The man spun around, grabbing whatever was in reach and throwing it without looking.
Graeden ducked out of the way, crossing his arms over his head as a box went sailing past him. A few doctors moved in as though to restrain the man, but scampered back as he shoved an empty bed aside, knocking over a nurse in the process.
The man spun around and grabbed a metal container holding tongue depressors, tripping as he turned to throw it. Graeden dove at Zhadeyn, knocking her out of the path of the missile, and jumped up to help as doctors rushed toward the man, grabbing his arms before he could push himself up off the ground.
Dr. Keisen thrust a needle into the man's arm while the others held him, and after a few moments, the man stopped struggling and slumped to the ground, allowing the doctors to lift him onto a bed and tie him down while he was in a drugged calm.
The doctors looked at each other and heaved a collective sigh of relief, then turned to gather up the mess.
Graeden reached over to lift the toppled bed when he saw Zhadeyn lying in a heap on the ground, her head at an odd angle against the cabinet and her eyes closed.
He froze, staring at her.
“Grae?” Jase asked, tugging on his sleeve. “Grae, what's wrong?”
“Gods, no, this can't be happening again,” Graeden whispered, walking slowly toward Zhadeyn and dropping to his knees beside her.
“Again?” Jase asked, but Graeden ignored him, reaching out a shaking hand and pressing two fingers to her throat, checking for a pulse.
Zhadeyn groaned and blinked several times, and Graeden let out the breath he was holding as she lifted a hand to her forehead.
“Don't move,” he ordered.
Zhadeyn looked at him strangely but held very still while he grabbed her hand and asked her if she could feel where he touched her. When she said yes, he put a hand around the back of her neck to support her head and helped her slowly sit up, leaning back against the cabinet.
“Look at me.”
She winced but did as she was told, holding his gaze for as long as he sat there, studying her eyes.
“Now follow my finger,” he said, holding up his index finger and moving it from one side to the other, then up and down and around in a circle. “What's your name?”
“Zhadeyn,” she said slowly, looking at him as though he were crazy.
“What year is it?”
“3518.”
“And where are we?”
“Vhais, on Tanas.”
“Does anything hurt?”
“Just…here,” she said, lifting a hand to the back of her head.
Graeden eased her forward and gently probed her scalp with his fingertips, feeling a bump already starting to form, but no indication of blood. He sat back and said, “Hold your hands out in front of you, and touch each fingertip to your thumb, one at a time.”
He watched as she touched her index fingers to her thumbs, then her middle fingers, and so on, then did it in reverse when he asked. She repeated the exercise several more times, back and forth, moving faster each time.
“What's going on in here?” Zevic asked, bursting into the room.
“Had a little trouble with a patient,” Dr. Keisen explained. “We have him sedated now.”
“And what's wrong with her?” Zevic spat, gesturing at Zhadeyn.
“Hit her head,” Graeden answered.
“She looks fine to me.”
Graeden shot to his feet and stood almost nose-to-nose with the director.
“Do you have any idea how delicate a thing a head injury can be?” he asked through clenched teeth. “Do you?”
Zevic blinked and took a step back while Jase murmured, “Easy, Grae.”
Graeden panted, a host of memories flashing through his head.
“I still say she looks fine,” Zevic said, glancing down his nose at Zhadeyn. “Get up, would you?”
“No, Zhadeyn, you stay right where you are!” Graeden ordered.
“She needs to get back to work,” Zevic said, stepping closer and narrowing his eyes at Graeden.
“And I say she needs to rest a moment until we're sure there's no permanent damage done,” Graeden countered.
“Well, I am telling you that she needs to do her job,” Zevic growled.
“You listen here, you know-nothing, bureaucratic ass,” Graeden fumed, moving forward until Zevic was forced to back up a step. “She is going to stay right where she is until I say she's safe and ready to go back to work. Understand?”
Zevic stared back at him, but as usual, after a moment, he could no longer hold Graeden's gaze and looked away with a flinch.
“Make it quick,” Zevic growled as he spun on his heel and headed for the door.
The man paused, glared down at Zhadeyn, and hurried out of the room. Graeden felt everyone's eyes on him for a moment before they all turned and resumed what they were doing before the angry patient had started tearing the room apart.
Graeden found Jase looking pointedly at him, and gave him an apologetic look.
“Don't piss off the wolves, Grae,” Jase muttered, and went back to his patient.
Graeden took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and crouched down beside Zhadeyn.
“How do you feel?” he asked quietly.
“I'm alright,” she murmured, looking down at her hands.
“Do you know where you are?”
Zhadeyn nodded.
“Alright, we're going to run through this one more time, just to be sure.”
She sat patiently while Graeden double- and triple-checked her pulse, eye dilation, reflexes, and response time. When he was fairly sure she'd suffered no more than a bruise on her scalp, he had her sit in a corner of the room for a few minutes while he saw to another patient, then checked her again. When he finally dismissed her to go back to work, he watched her carefully as she left the room, looking for any signs of lost coordination or motor function, but saw nothing.
“Going a little overboard with that one, Grae,” Jase muttered to him as they stood next to one another at the counter, filling out patient files.
“I had to make sure,” Graeden whispered back.
Jase eyed him suspiciously. “Stay away from the women, Grae, remember? We talked about this.”
“I know, I know,” he hissed. “I just–”
“And what did you mean by again? What happened again?”
Graeden froze in the middle of writing a word, took a deep breath, and hurried through finishing his report, ignoring Jase's question entirely.
Chapter 13
ZEVIC STALKED the halls, fuming over his confrontation with Dr. Graeden, until he glanced back into the room on his way past the door and saw the doctor in the corne
r with Zhadeyn, looking at her intently while he made her run through some coordination exercise.
He stopped and watched, just out of sight, and narrowed his eyes as Dr. Graeden first asked permission to touch the girl, and then did so with extreme care.
Zevic grinned and spun away, pressing his back against the wall and watching out of the corner of his eye until he saw Zhadeyn finally leave the room with a stack of files in her arms.
He followed her several paces behind, waiting until she turned down a mostly empty corridor, then leapt forward to clamp a hand over her mouth and pull her into an empty room.
“Hush,” he whispered, letting her go to carefully shut the door.
“I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” she whispered, trembling and backing away. “He was just trying to help–”
“And for once you may have done something right,” Zevic murmured, moving closer and watching her duck her head and cower away from him. “I think he's caught. Did you see the way he looked at you? No, of course you didn't, because unlike that self-righteous Agori bastard, you at least know better than to look a man in the eye.”
Zhadeyn flinched and curled in further on herself.
“Now, you listen to me,” he whispered fiercely, leaning closer until their foreheads almost touched. “Remember the plan? If he comes to you, you offer him that knife and willingly submit, understand? Your body does not belong to you. It'll either be his, or it'll be mine if you fail. And you'd better not fail. The Elders are counting on this being successful, so you'd better do your job. Got it?”
She nodded rapidly, fighting tears as her breath hitched in her throat.
Zevic straightened up and took a step back.
“Get to work.”
She gasped out a breath and hurried away. Zevic waited a moment, then a sudden idea sent him to the records room, where he whistled to himself as he grabbed a couple seemingly random employee files, and headed back to the room where the Agori worked.
* * *
GRAEDEN FINISHED up with another patient, occasionally glancing toward the door to see if Zhadeyn would return. He sent the patient away and turned toward the counter to write up his report, groaning as he saw Zevic saunter into the room instead.
“How is everything?” the bureaucrat asked, his demeanor a little too friendly. “Anything I can help with?”
“We're just fine, thanks,” Jase answered from across the room.
Zevic walked over and tossed down some files he was carrying, leaning toward Graeden and pointing at the patient file as he asked, “So, what do we have here?”
Graeden took a breath to calm himself and answered without looking up. “Just a cut that needed stitches.”
“Ah, so he can work, then,” Zevic said, absentmindedly patting the files under his hand.
Graeden turned his head slightly and bit off, “Yes,” before looking back down at his report. His pen faltered for a moment when he noticed Zhadeyn's name written on one of the folders under Zevic's hand.
“And what are we doing over here?” Zevic asked, the files shifting as his hand slipped off them when he stepped away to speak to one of the other doctors.
Graeden paused in his writing again and glanced over, noting that the files were employee records with names and addresses on the labels. He held his breath, seeing Zhadeyn's address clearly printed on the file closest to his hand.
He shifted away and focused on his patient report, a suspicious feeling building in his chest. Graeden took a deep breath and concentrated on recording the number of stitches he'd used and the patient's estimated healing time, finishing up the report and setting it aside for processing before he went to the next man in line to be seen.
All the while, he noticed Zevic strolling idly about the room, an oddly satisfied smile on the man's face as he glanced occasionally at the doctors while they worked.
“Well, it looks like you've got everything well in hand here,” Zevic said to no one in particular. “Must be going. Lots to do.”
He walked toward the door, stopped, and laughed. “Almost forgot.” He turned back to the counter, gathered up the files he'd brought in, and strolled out of the room with his nose in the air.
He did that on purpose, Graeden thought, watching him leave. Why?
But his suspicions were forgotten as he got lost in his work and saw no sign of Zhadeyn for the rest of the day.
* * *
AS THEIR shift wound down, it was all Graeden could do to get through the last report he had to file while his mind was buzzing with indecision.
Don't do it, Grae, he admonished himself. He wants you to go there. Why, I don't know, but…something is up.
But…it would be good to check on her one more time, he argued with himself. Make sure she's alright.
Don't do it, Grae. Don't.
“You ready?” Jase asked, closing up his med kit.
“What?” Graeden asked. “Oh…I…uh…I'm just going to finish up a few things first.”
He waved at his unfinished report by way of explanation, and saw Jase give him a questioning look.
“Alright,” his friend said. “Just don't be long. You know we have our lovely mystery stew probably waiting for us when we get home.”
“Ugh,” Leni groaned, grabbing his kit and heading for the door.
“Yeah, wouldn't want to miss that,” Quinn added, following him out.
Jase joined them a moment later, and Graeden took a few extra minutes to read back over his report, making sure he hadn't forgotten anything, then tossed it aside and closed up his medical kit, walking purposefully out of the hospital and glancing up at the street signs as he headed off in another direction.
He found the intersection of S Street and 37th, and walked up to the first apartment, hesitating before he knocked.
Gods, what am I doing here?
He started to turn away when the door opened and he heard a gasp.
“Dr. Graeden?”
“Zhadeyn,” he said, smiling at her. “I just…wanted to make sure you were alright.”
She nodded, looking down at her hands as she wiped them on a towel.
“No problems the rest of the day?” he asked. “Still feeling fine?”
She nodded again, looked uncertain for a moment, then stepped back as she asked, “Would you come in?” Graeden started to refuse, and then she added, “I…I could make you dinner.”
He paused, sorely tempted, remembering the stark contrast between what she'd made for him before and what they'd been getting back at their own apartment.
“Thank you, but I…uh…I should be getting home,” he said, determined to hold onto his resolve to get through this mission and get back home without any extra drama. “I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”
He turned away and saw Zhadeyn reach toward him.
“Wait, please,” she called. “I…”
She paused, looking over her shoulder at the room behind her, and turned back to him, asking, “I have a question about a file, if you wouldn't mind…”
Graeden looked at her, seeing a restrained intensity in her gaze, and wondered what she was about, but nodded anyway and slowly stepped inside.
Zhadeyn shut the door and offered him a glass of water while she rushed over to a small dining table covered with patient files. He declined the water and watched her shuffle through the piles of paper there, extracting one from the mess and bringing it over to him.
“There was a word in here I couldn't quite make out,” she explained, flipping through it. Something chimed in the kitchen, making her start. “Oh, goodness–”
“Here,” Graeden said, taking the file from her as she rushed off to attend to whatever was in the oven. The scent of it knocked right into him, making his stomach growl, but Graeden tried to ignore it as he scanned the file in his hands.
He looked up and saw Zhadeyn rest a dish on the counter and shut the oven, wiping her hands on a towel as she returned to the table, digging through the files.
Gra
eden flipped through the thick stack of sheets in his hand while Zhadeyn extricated a small box from under the files, lifting the lid as she returned to his side.
“Gods, is all of this paper really necess– Aaaaaah!”
Paper snowed around them as Graeden threw his hands up and jumped back, startled by the sight of a knife resting inside the box that Zhadeyn held out to him.
Graeden put out his hands, panting as he stared at her.
“Why don't you put that away, alright?” he said, backing up slowly until he bumped into the door, then felt blindly behind himself for the knob. “Just put it down, Zhadeyn.”
She frowned and looked down at the box, looking almost hurt as she turned away and slowly closed the lid. Graeden sighed with relief when she set it back on the table and slowly came back to him, stopping farther away and looking down at her hands.
Graeden tried to think of something to say, and Zhadeyn suddenly dropped to her knees, frantically gathering up the scattered papers and organizing them back into a neat pile. She rose and shyly handed them over, backing up a step as Graeden took them from her.
“It's the fourth word on the prognosis report,” she mumbled.
Graeden took a moment to catch his breath, then kept an eye on her while he reopened the file and flipped to the prognosis report, quickly scanning the first line.
“It's 'anemic',” he said, reading the fourth word and handing the file back over.
She took the file and nodded, keeping her eyes down while they stood there in silence.
“Well,” Graeden began, then cleared his throat and tried again. “I…should…”
He hesitated, cleared his throat again, and let himself out without another word. A few blocks went by in a blur as he hurried away, until he finally stopped to catch his breath again.
Gods, I just can't escape it, he thought, shaking his head and glancing back over his shoulder, even though he could no longer see her apartment.
He went home, mechanically made his way through a tasteless dinner, and went to bed, tossing and turning all night while his mind was haunted with nightmares of blood and knives, rage and screams.