A Million Shadows

by Janci Patterson

  Did I dare call one, and risk her dying in the hospital, her face washing blank and featureless?

  I managed to pull a phone out of my pocket. A normal person would call 911.

  I took a step toward her. Pills. So many pills.

  Even if she lived through this without medical help, what would we do next?

  I don’t know how long I stood there, frozen. Long enough to know that I wasn’t thinking right, so I did the only right thing I could think of, reached for the only help I knew I could count on.

  I dialed Kalif.

  “Pumpkin patch owners,” he said.

  My mind blanked. What was the next code word?

  “Embroidered—" Was it petals? No. "—embroidered stamens.”

  He paused. “Jory?”

  I wanted to sound calm, but I couldn’t even fake it. “It’s my mom. I just got home, and she’s on the floor.”

  He spoke slowly. “She’s on the floor. Did someone hurt her?”

  I could barely breathe. “There’re all these pills,” I said. “I think she took them. Lots of them. And then she—"

  His voice rose in alarm. “She’s unconscious?”

  I swallowed. “Yes.”

  “You’re sure it’s your mom. She still has her face.”

  I couldn’t breathe. “Yes. It’s her, and she’s alive. But there’re a lot of pills, and her hands are cold, and—"

  Kalif drew a sharp breath. “Did you call an ambulance?”

  My voice pitched upward. “Can I do that? I can’t, right? They’ll take her to the hospital. They’ll take notes and put her in the system. And what if she dies there? They’ll know about us, they’ll dissect her, and, and—"

  “I’m getting off the train,” Kalif said. “I’ll get back on one going the other direction and come back to you. But if your mom is dying, you have to get her help. You can’t pump her stomach, can you? You have to call someone.”

  My heart pounded. If he came here and he missed a tracker, he’d lead Aida right to us.

  Was that what she wanted? Did she do this to my mother?

  No. That made no sense. If she’d found Mom to do this to her, she wouldn’t need to track Kalif here. I was spinning in paranoid circles.

  I leaned against the wall and knocked my head back. Think, I told myself. Think.

  “Jory?” Kalif said. “You still there?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Do you know what she took?”

  The tabs I’d gotten for her—that was for sure. But there hadn’t been this many, and there were so many different kinds. I looked around. It wasn’t like Mom had left the pill bottles lined up on the counter. Plus, she’d stolen a lot of these drugs. There was no guarantee she’d ever had the original labels. “Not all of them,” I said. “There’s no way to tell.”

  His voice was firm. “You have to call an ambulance.”

  My voice squeaked. “I can’t.”

  “I know it’s dangerous, but if she’s overdosed, she needs a doctor. If she’s still alive, that’s a good sign, right? A lot of people survive drug overdoses.”

  I heard what he was carefully not saying.

  A lot of people survived this kind of suicide attempt.

  “If she wakes up in the hospital,” I said. “She might be disoriented. She might shift in front of the doctors. And then they’d have her alive when they dissect her, and—"

  “Jory,” Kalif said. “Your mom is a professional. You’re going to have to trust that she can handle it. And if it all goes wrong, we can work the job. We can break her out; we can cover it up. But right now, you have to get help. Some things require doctors. Even for us.”

  I sputtered over my words. “Maybe she’ll be fine,” I said. “Maybe she’ll wake up on her own.”

  He didn’t falter. “Jory, call now. Or you can give me your address and I can do it.”

  My head pounded. She was my mother. She was my responsibility. “No,” I said. “I’ll call.”

  “Do you have a second phone so I can stay on the line?”

  I moved back into the hall. I had more phones stashed under my bed, but I could see one on Mom’s floor from the hallway. “Yeah,” I said.

  “Okay, call. I don’t think I can make it back before they get there, but I can meet you at the hospital when you know where they’re taking her.”

  I nodded. “Okay.” I put down the phone and picked up Mom’s, dialing 911. My heart beat in my ears with each digit: trap, trap, trap.

  But that didn’t make any sense. Who would be setting me up? Kalif?

  No. I’d finished doubting him long ago. He’d proven over and over again that he was on my side, and that was the way it was going to stay.

  “What is the nature of your emergency?” the operator asked.

  “My mom took these pills,” I said. “Now she’s unconscious.”

  I realized too late I should have disguised my voice. Calls to 911 were recorded, weren’t they? As I gave out our address, blood rushed in my ears so loud I almost couldn’t hear her repeat it back to me. I sat down on the bed. I was the traitor, for doing this. I was the one setting her up.

  I could hear Kalif calling my name from the other phone, so I switched him onto speaker, so he could hear my end of the 911 call.

  The operator told me an ambulance was on its way, and I had the presence of mind to pull my body together, aging myself to look eighteen or nineteen. Old enough to take care of myself. Old enough they wouldn’t call in a state worker for me.

  The operator peppered me with questions about Mom. What pills did she take? Could I find the bottles? Did I know how many? I paced through the house, finding a bottle here, a label there. Some of them had prescription information on them. I read them to the 911 operator, stumbling over the long names.

  Pull it together, I told myself. But my head swam. “Shouldn’t I do something for her?” I asked.

  “You said she’s breathing?”

  I forced myself back in the kitchen. Mom hadn’t moved, but her face was still intact. “She’s still alive.”

  “Wait for the ambulance.”

  When the paramedics came through the door, the frozen moments thawed to a drip. I was aware only in flashes: two men lifting Mom onto a stretcher. One of the paramedics loading the pill bottles into a plastic bag, another urging me to come downstairs and join them in the ambulance.

  I gripped my phone in my hand. Kalif was still there, on speaker, waiting quietly.

  The paramedic gave me the name of the hospital, and I read it to Kalif. This was the same disposable he’d been using all day, wasn’t it? Could there have been a bug in it he missed? Was this the moment when I’d get Mom killed?

  “Hang on until I get there,” Kalif said to me. “It’s going to be okay.”

  “Okay,” I said, though I didn’t really believe him. I shivered as I hung up.

  As I moved for the stairs to climb into the ambulance, Laura’s curtains flung aside. She looked through the window at me, and toward the stretcher the paramedics were easing even now down the switchback stairs to the ambulance.

  Damn. I stepped between her and them, so that she wouldn’t see Mom’s home face—complete with scars she’d seen on a neighbor with a different face. Laura hobbled over to the door on her walker at record speed and threw it open.

  “Who are you?” she asked. “Is Amelia all right?”

  I stuttered. Crap. I was supposed to put Amelia’s face back on before the paramedics showed, not an older version of my own.

  The paramedics reached the bottom of the stairs. Two of them wheeled the stretcher to the ambulance while the third headed back for me. I pulled the door to our apartment closed. “Amelia’s fine,” I said to Laura. “I have to go.”

  Laura scooted the walker toward me. “Is it her mother? Are they taking her to the hospital?” That was a stupid question, and I didn’t grace it with a response.

  The paramedic was at my arm. “Are you coming?”

  “Yes,
” I said. I followed the paramedic, turning my back on Laura. “Where’s Amelia?” she called after me.

  The paramedic must have heard her. I couldn’t use that name at the hospital now. Was I supposed to? Should there be new names everywhere for security or the same ones for consistency?

  Smart Jory would know. I hoped she showed up soon to hold my hand and tell me what the hell I was supposed to be doing.

  The ambulance ran the sirens all the way to the hospital, which was farther away than I would have imagined. Cars parted before us, and the ambulance wove between them, honking at stop lights. I tried not to imagine what was happening in the back, what they were doing to my mother. What would happen if she died on the way, if she lost her face, and I was the one they detained for answers?

  We’ll handle it, I told myself. That’s what Kalif said.

  For the moment, I had to believe him.

  When we got to the hospital, a nurse took me by the arm and led me to the waiting room while the paramedics loaded my mom through a big set of double doors and down a hall. Soon she was out of sight.

  “Shouldn’t I stay with her?” I asked the nurse.

  She put her hand on my shoulder. “We just need to ask you a few questions,” she said. “Is she your mother?”

  “Yes,” I said. Now I was two daughters. Amelia with one face, and me with another. This older version of me didn’t even have a name yet. I hugged my arms across my chest. I picked out the locations of cameras focused on the doors. I looked too much like my home face, and anyone might be watching.

  The nurse brought over a clipboard. “What’s your mother’s name?” she asked.

  Crap. I didn’t even remember what name Mom used on the apartment contract, though I was sure I should know. My brain swam, refusing to produce the information.

  I had to make up a new one, then. I needed something common, but also something she hadn’t used before.

  “Anne,” I said finally. “Anne Smith.”

  As if that didn’t sound like the fakest name ever. I might as well have called her Jane Doe.

  The nurse wrote the name down, though she’d surely noticed my hesitation. This was a hospital. They probably got a lot of people giving fake names when they couldn’t pay. She wouldn’t jump to any crazy conclusions from just that.

  My jitters, too, wouldn’t be out of place.

  As long as the staff attributed it to nerves and didn’t think I was also on drugs.

  Get a grip, I told myself. Work with what you’ve got.

  “I just need to know what medications she was taking,” the nurse said. “And if she has any medical conditions. Seizures? Heart problems? Allergies to medication?”

  She was a perfectly healthy shifter who just happened to have torture scars on her face.

  That would be noted in her medical records.

  That would go in the system for the Carmines to find.

  How were Kalif and I going to cover that?

  “No,” I said. “And I don’t know about the pills. The paramedics collected the bottles.”

  “Okay,” she said. She slipped the top page off the clipboard and handed it to me. “This is a medical history form. Fill out everything you know and then bring it up to the front desk.”

  I held the clipboard by the corner. “Okay.”

  The nurse gave me a sad smile. It looked genuine, but she probably had a lot of practice, working in emergency. “The doctor will come talk to you as soon as he’s checked on her.”

  She talked like Mom had a twisted ankle or a stomach ache. I had no way to know how long she’d been lying there. If she didn’t die, would the drugs have done something horrible to her? Messed with her body, or her mind?

  I stared at the clipboard. The top sheet was a long list, with little boxes next to them to check yes or no. The words shuffled as I tried to read them. I couldn’t get more than a few into my head before they’d slipped back out again.

  I didn’t see Kalif come in. I didn’t even notice him until he was kneeling right in front of me, still wearing the persona he’d used to meet me in front of the bakery. He put a hand on each of my arms. “Hey,” he said. “Are you okay?”

  I put my hand in his, and we exchanged signals. Then I shook my head and handed him the clipboard. “I have to fill this out. But I can’t read it.”

  He sat down next to me and rubbed my shoulder.

  I should have felt glad to see him. But the pull between us was gone, and I was just floating in space.

  “I said Mom’s name was Anne,” I said. “She might have used that before, but I can’t remember.”

  “It’s okay,” Kalif whispered. “Anne is common.”

  That was true. If anyone was looking for Anne Smith, they’d be wading in a deep pool. Plus, if I gave myself another A name, people would get them confused, which would add to our cover.

  Maybe I wasn’t sucking so bad after all.

  Kalif looked down at the clipboard. “This is just a medical history.”

  I nodded. “I told them she wasn’t sick.”

  “Okay. I’m just going to check no for everything.” He flicked the pen down the list, marking each of the boxes. When he finished, he just set the clipboard aside on the chair, like it didn’t matter. It wasn’t until then that I realized it didn’t.

  Kalif took my hand again.

  That’s when I remembered who I was. I twisted around in my seat, studying the nurses’ station. “Can you get into the system from here?” I asked. “We’re going to have to delete Mom’s medical records. Otherwise the Carmines will find them, and they’ll note the scars on Mom’s face, and they’ll find her, and—"

  Kalif’s hand squeezed mine. “Jory,” he said. “Think about it. We can’t go erasing medical records while your mother is still here. The doctors will notice. They’ll re-enter them. They’ll flag it as suspicious which will make it even easier to find.”

  I corrected my face as it flushed. There was no way they wouldn’t mark the scars in her chart. She was a mental patient with no previous medical records. For all they’d know, she’d been cutting on herself.

  I nodded slowly. We’d probably been right to send her here. Mom needed immediate medical attention. But once they had her stable, I’d have to get her out of here, stat. There was no way to keep her safe here. The Carmines would find her.

  I scanned the front exits. There were cameras everywhere, and probably live people watching the feeds. A hospital had a lot of assets to protect—the most important of which were their patients. That meant good security.

  This wouldn’t be easy.

  I leaned over to Kalif. “I’m going to go scope it out.” There had to be a locker room nearby, a place filled with scrubs and off-duty clothes and maybe a lost and found bin of stray items. I could fit into anything I could find—literally—so as long as I found clothes that roughly matched, I’d be set.

  Kalif’s hand gripped my arm. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

  I looked at him, confused. Of course it was a good idea. My mom couldn’t stay here. I might think a lot of hospital security, but I didn’t think so much of it that I expected she’d be safe if our enemies came for her.

  Kalif looked at me warily. “Think about it,” he said. “You’re a mess. If you make a mistake, you put her at even more risk.”

  My stomach turned, but I steadied myself. “I’m just going to look,” I said. “That’s all.”

  Kalif still didn’t look convinced, and for the first time, all I wanted was for him to go away, if only so he would stop looking at me like that.

  The room spun around me. “You have to get out of here. Your mom could follow you. You’ll lead them right to us, and then they won’t even have to spend time searching for the medical records.”

  My heart raced, and I reached for the arm of the chair to steady myself, and caught Kalif’s arm instead, which wasn’t helping my case any.

  What would my dad say? Keep your head. Think through contingencie
s. Do what you can to prevent them.

  First, I had to get rid of Kalif. And then I had to somehow get into the computer system and change my mom’s chart, or make it so that no one could get into it remotely.

  Which was really his specialty.

  Damn it. I needed him. Why did I suddenly hate that?

  Kalif pulled out his phone. “I can tell you exactly where my mom is, if that’ll make you feel better.” He poked at the screen, pulling up his tracing app. His program searched for Aida, about to load her location.

  As much as it always bothered me that Aida had a habit of tracking her own son, at the moment, the tactic seemed brilliant.

  The phone loaded up a GPS map, pinpointing Aida’s location.

  “There,” Kalif said. Then his face went pale. I dug my fingernails into his shoulder, but he didn’t even flinch.

  The map showed a corner three blocks south of us. As we watched, Aida’s blip moved up the street.

  She was coming right toward us.

  Six

  My first impulse was to run, but I couldn’t leave without taking Mom with me. I couldn’t see far past the nurse’s station, but given the condition in which she’d come in, they were probably still working on her.

  And what if she died? What if something happened in there that caused the doctors to realize they weren’t working with a regular person? What if they called in the NSA, or the FBI?

  I couldn’t be far away. I had to be right here, running surveillance, making sure she was okay until I could sneak her out.

  Which needed to happen as soon as possible. Getting her out of the ER would be much harder than a regular hospital room, but I imagined neither would be a job I could accomplish easily on the fly.

  That meant we had to intercept Aida and buy ourselves some time.

  I smiled. My brain was coming back to me. I could do this.

  I turned to Kalif. “You could meet her,” I said. “She won’t be able to track me. Lead her away from here. Come up with a story.”

  Kalif looked down at his phone, biting his lip like there was something he really wanted to say.

  The little blip moved closer.

  “What?” I asked. “You don’t think it will work?”