by Vicky Savage
“It’s a nasty little device that sends a low level of electrical current over the surface of your skin. Prevents you from shifting.”
“Oh,” I say, shivering uncontrollably.
“God, you’re freezing.” He grabs a woolen throw from the back of the couch and wraps it snugly around me.
“She needs a doctor,” Urick says, “and we need to get the remains of that bot out of the street.”
“Do what you need to,” Asher says. “I’ll call for an ambulance.” He hands the dog collar to Urick. “And, let Narowyn know about this.”
Urick and Ponytail slip out the front door.
“Jade, I’m so sorry. This is my fault. I never should have let you out of my sight.”
I open my mouth to tell him it’s okay, but blackness swirls around me, and I allow myself to surrender to it.
* * *
My temples pound as if giants are taking turns clobbering my head with tree trunks. A deep moan rumbles up from my chest and rattles out through my throat.
“What is it, sweetheart?”
I open my eyes, but it’s like I’m looking through wax paper. “Dad?”
“Yes, sweetheart. I’m here.”
“My head hurts.”
“I know. You’ve suffered a concussion. The medication will kick-in soon.”
“Where am I?”
“The hospital. St. Ignatius. Do you remember what happened?”
“I don’t know. Someone attacked me.”
“Asher’s giving his statement to the police right now. Thank god he came along when he did and scared the guy off.”
“Yeah,” I say, not really remembering the sequence of events. “That was lucky.”
“The police will want to take your statement a little later when you’re feeling better. Did you get a look at the guy?”
“No. It was pretty dark.” I touch my fingertips to my tender cheek and swollen eye. “Is anything broken?”
“No, just contusions and abrasions and one hell of a shiner.” He lifts up my chin to get a better look. “Anyway, they want to keep you overnight because of the concussion and because you were in shock when you arrived. Drew’s here and Lisa. Let us know if you need anything.”
“Thanks.” I close my eyes and sink down into the soft pillows.
It seems like no time has passed when Dad gently shakes my shoulder to wake me.
“Jaden, the police are here. Do you feel up to speaking with them for a few minutes?”
“Uh, okay.” Dad gives me a cup with a straw, and I sip some water.
Two uniformed officers, a man and woman, come over to the side of my bed. They introduce themselves. Their names bypass my brain. One of them asks me to tell them in my own words what happened.
I keep it basic because the whole thing is like a bad dream that I don’t really want to remember.
A man in black dragged me out of my car. He grabbed for my bracelet. I fought back but he hit me, knocking me to the ground. Then Asher ran up, and the guy high-tailed it out of there. I didn’t really get a good look at his face.
I skip the part about the gun and the robot’s head being severed from its body, and Urick and Ponytail showing up.
“Did he get away with anything? Your bracelet? Your purse?”
“No. I don’t think so.”
The only time I get tripped up is when they ask me about the marks on my neck.
“Did he put something around your neck or try to strangle you?” The stocky sandy-haired officer asks.
Not knowing what Asher has told them, I just wiggle around the question. “Uh, I really don’t remember. He might have done something after I hit my head on the ground. It gets kind of fuzzy past that point.”
She nods sympathetically. “We’ll need you to come to the station in the next few days to sign your statement and look at some mug shots.”
I promise to do that and they leave. Dad resumes his seat at my bedside, and mercifully, I fade off to sleep again.
The night passes in a haze of semi-conscious misery. My left cheek throbs nonstop, and my headache fades to a dull thudding, but never really goes away. Every time I drift into a deep sleep, someone wakes me to check my vital signs or give me more medication.
In the morning Dad brings in clean clothes for me and informs me that I’ll be discharged later today. He plans to take the afternoon off work to make sure I’m comfortably settled in at home.
“You’ll need to miss a few days of school, sweetheart. It’s important to rest physically and mentally after a head injury like that.”
“No worries, Dad. I’ll get my assignments online, and Liv will take notes for me. Oh, and I forgot to tell you, the lady from Oxford is going to call you this morning at ten. Do you have your cell phone?”
“Yes. Don’t give it a second thought. I’ll be sure to take the call. What’s her name?”
“Narowyn Du Lac.”
He uses one finger to type it into his phone. “The British sure have some odd names.” He pats my sheet-covered leg. “Sweetheart, I’ve asked Dr. Rivera to come by and see you this morning. She’s a … therapist who specializes in PTSD.”
“Post traumatic stress disorder? Dad, c’mon. I really don’t need—”
“I know you don’t think you need to see anyone, but this was an extremely violent and upsetting thing that happened last night. Hell, I probably need a therapist. The point is, I’m not sure you can predict how it will affect you later. Also, I just think it would do you good to talk to someone. It hasn’t been that long since we lost Mom, and this is a stressful time as it is, with graduation coming up and you thinking about moving. I probably should have set this up for you long ago.”
“That’s not true, Dad. I hope you don’t think I’ve lost it or something.”
“I don’t, sweetheart … but I admit I’ve been concerned about you since your mother died—particularly over these last months when you seemed to have developed a kind of an internet obsession for someone you hardly know.”
“Wait, Dad. You don’t have to worry about that anymore. It’s all in the past. I promise.”
“That’s good to hear, but I wish you’d speak with her anyway. Please. For me?”
He’s so concerned that I don’t want to upset him by refusing. “Okay. But just this once.”
“That’s all I ask.” He smoothes my hair with his palm. “I need to work for a few hours, but I’ll be back to get you discharged around two.”
TWENTY-EIGHT
After picking at the food on my hospital breakfast tray, I shower and change back into civilian clothes. My TPD bracelet’s not with the rest of my things, so I assume Asher’s holding it for me. I feel a little naked without it.
A check in the mirror tells me it’s a good thing I don’t have to go to school for a few days. I look seriously wrecked. When I don’t show up for first period, Liv and I exchange texts:
Where r u?
St. Iggies. Don’t freak. I’m fine.
WTF?
Long story. Come by the house after sch?
K
I hang out on the bed and flip through television channels for a couple of boring hours. Mid-morning, Asher walks in carrying a huge arrangement of spring flowers. “Hey, Ash. Those are gorgeous. Thanks.”
He sets the vase on the windowsill and hands me my TPD bracelet.
“God, I can’t believe you’re still speaking to me,” he says, the muscles in his jaw tense. “I’m so sorry Jade. I shouldn’t have left you alone.”
“It was only two minutes, Ash. You couldn’t have known.” I snap on the bracelet and immediately feel more secure.
“But that’s what I’m here for—to anticipate those things and protect you. Narowyn will probably kick my ass back to Arumel. This was an epic fail on my part.”
“No! She can’t send you back. I need you here. You’re the only one who knows what’s going on.”
He slumps down into the bedside chair. “I’ll tell her you said that, but
I’m not sure what she’ll decide to do.”
“Look, everything turned out all right, and now we have direct evidence that IUGA is trying to kill me. It’s kind of a good development.”
“Nice try, but that got screwed up too.” He slides further down in his chair. “When Urick and Nila got back to your car, the whole scene had been cleaned up.”
“What? What do you mean?”
“No robot and no gun, that’s what I mean. All we have is the dog collar, which probably can’t be traced back to IUGA.”
Oh man, that really sucks.”
“Yeah. Anyway, Narowyn’s going back to court today and taking Urick with her to inform them what happened. Not sure what that’ll accomplish. IUGA will just deny everything. She also sent a bunch of additional people to help watch over you. Urick’s entire team arrived last night. You’ll probably see some familiar-looking new janitors at school. Don’t act surprised.”
“We should let them know I’m taking a few days off school. Dad says I need to rest. Also, he set me up to talk with some shrink. He’s afraid all this may send me over the edge.”
Asher leans forward, elbows on his knees. “You know, Jade, that’s not a bad idea. You’ve been through a hell of a lot lately.”
“Not you too!”
He holds his hands up defensively. “I’m just saying …”
Then, as if staged, the door opens and in walks an attractive young woman wearing a beige sheath dress topped by a white lab coat. She smiles brightly.
“Hello, I’m Dr. Rivera.” She holds a clipboard in one hand and extends her other hand to Asher.
He stands and shakes it. “Asher Steele.”
“Nice to meet you. And you must be Jaden Beckett,” she reaches out to shake my hand also. “I believe we have an appointment.” She turns to Asher. “We’ll only be an hour or so. You’re welcome to come back then.”
Ash fumbles out of the room and closes the door quietly. Dr. Rivera pulls the bedside chair around so she’s facing me.
Right away, I notice her killer shoes with red soles. Louboutins, nice. She’s not exactly the gray-haired doctor I was expecting. In fact, she looks about fourteen years old.
“How are you feeling today, Jaden?” she asks.
“How old are you?” I reply.
“Thirty-one. How old are you?” she says, without skipping a beat.
“I’ll be nineteen in three months.”
She makes a small note on her clipboard.
“I was so sorry to hear what happened to you last night. Can you tell me a little bit about the incident?”
“I’m sure it’s all there in your notes,” I say, gesturing to her clipboard. But I repeat the short version of the story for her anyway.
“Wow, that sounds awful. Can you tell me a little about what you were feeling while this was happening?”
“Yeah—scared, afraid I was going to die. I tried to defend myself, but nothing worked.”
“How did that make you feel? I understand you’re an expert in Tae Kwan Do.”
She’s asking better questions than the police. “I am, but he must have been wearing protective gear because nothing I tried had much of an impact on him. Before I could run, he clocked me.”
“You must have felt pretty helpless, then?”
I can’t very well tell her that martial arts are useless against robots, so instead I say, “Look, I feel like under normal circumstances I would have been able to handle the guy. It was just a combination of things—he took me by surprise in front of my own house, he had on some kind of a cup or something, and I was tired.”
“That’s certainly understandable.” She makes another note. “So, did this incident change the way you look at your neighborhood now? I mean do you feel safe there?”
“Yeah, I do.” Especially now since I know Urick’s whole team is watching over me. “I don’t know what this guy was doing there last night, but I think it was just a fluke. I feel the neighborhood’s a pretty secure place.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” Dr. Rivera leans back in her chair. “Jaden, I believe your father wanted me to speak with you just to let you know that after this kind of event it’s normal to experience a certain amount of fear and anxiety. You may find yourself going over the event frequently in your head, or feeling some trepidation when you drive home at night. You may even occasionally have nightmares about the event. The only time this is a concern is if it becomes acute or if it continues for more than a few weeks. It’s very important to take care of yourself physically and emotionally during this time.”
“Okay, I understand.”
“Everybody deals with trauma in different ways. Your father told me he had a very difficult time after your mother died, and I believe he’s a bit worried about you.”
“I know what he’s concerned about. And he doesn’t have to worry anymore.”
She tilts her head, eyes curious. “Can you tell me what you believe he’s worried about?”
I sigh and stare at the ceiling. I don’t know why Dad’s forcing me to do this but if it makes him feel better, fine.
“A little over a year ago, I lost touch with someone I cared about very much—a guy. I started searching for him on the internet, and I guess I got a little over zealous in some of my efforts to find him. Some people complained. But that’s all over now. I’m not looking for him anymore.”
“I see. Do you feel comfortable telling me why? Did something happen?”
“Yeah, I found him again, that’s what happened.” Tears sting my eyes, and I cover my face. “We were reunited for a few weeks. We were together, you know, as a couple. Then he died.”
“Died? Oh my, that’s so heartbreaking.” She takes the tissue box from the table and places it next to me on the bed. “What a tremendous loss for you.”
I pluck a few tissues from the box and blot my face. “Dad doesn’t know any of this, and I don’t want you to tell him.”
“Of course not. Anything you say to me is strictly confidential. I’ll never tell him anything unless you ask me to, or unless I fear you may be a danger to yourself or someone else. I don’t perceive that as a concern here. Is it?”
I sniff and clear my throat. “No, I’m not going to hurt myself, if that’s what you mean. But I don’t want Dad to know any of this.”
“Understood, but can you tell me a little more about his death?”
“It was a horrible accident,” I snuffle. “He fell from a fifty-foot tower. The walkway was rotten, and it broke away under his feet.”
“How awful. I imagine it was devastating for you.”
“It was, I loved him,” I say. “He was everything to me.”
“I’m so sorry.” Her eyes burn with compassion. “Have you been able to speak with anyone about this, Jaden?”
“A few people know, but not my family. My dad and I have never really been that close. He wouldn’t understand.”
“I hear what you’re saying, but you may find that people understand more than you might think. What has gone on since this happened—in terms of a funeral or saying goodbye or communications with his family?”
“I couldn’t go to the funeral.” I sob unabashedly now, twisting the tissues in my hands. “Or say goodbye. And he doesn’t have any family but a sister, and she can’t stand me.”
“Oh dear.” Dr. Rivera sighs softly and allows me a moment to collect myself.
“Jaden, I appreciate you speaking with me today and sharing your experiences. I would love to be able to help you with this. Grief is something I understand well, both personally and professionally. Often the tendency is to keep these feelings inside, but I urge you to express your feelings of sorrow and seek support from others during this time. One of the best ways to cope with grief is to talk about it.”
“I don’t have time to wallow in it, and please don’t suggest a support group. That’s not my style. I’ve got a lot going on in my life right now, and I don’t want people asking a bunch of questions. It’s a
private matter I have to deal with alone.”
“Fair enough,” she says. “But grief is a process you have to work through to get beyond. Would it be okay if I put together some things for you? I have a number of excellent books and articles on the grieving process. They may help you to understand some of the confusing emotions you’re experiencing, and they may also help you realize that no matter how isolated you feel, you’re not alone in this.”