“Yes,” said the woman presumed to be Heather, pale in a floral dress. “Wild indeed. We started off with frigid temps and snow. The coldest weather ever recorded for this time of year since 1927. But as you can see, all of that is over now. Let’s take a look at the forecast.”
Lyrica looked to Natalie.
“No TV?” Natalie asked, eyebrows lifted.
Lyrica shook her head. Another click and the talking box went black. Natalie placed the remote back on the table.
“Alright. See you in a few.”
As the nurse proceeded out the door, she turned and asked, “Oh, by the way—do you have a name? For the baby, that is?”
“Yes. Sefira.”
“Wow, that’s lovely.”
Lyrica softened.
“Would you like me to grab something for you to eat?”
“Yes, please—I am not particular.”
“Okay, no problem.”
As soon as the door shut, Lyrica felt a sense of relief. Natalie was kind, but she needed some time alone to gather her thoughts. She placed her baby on the bed beside her and sat up to get a better view of the room. It wasn’t as menacing as she had initially surmised. The walls in the room were painted in soft cream and dreamy sea-blue hues that paired well with the light wooden furniture and cabinetry. Her bed faced two doors. The one on the right opened into what looked like a lavatory. The other door was the only exit/entrance to the room. A small cream sink and cabinet were adjacent to it and the black screen was mounted above and to the left of the sink. To her far left was a long wall with a large whiteboard affixed. On it were words scribbled in blue—again, Old English. It read, “Nurse: Natalie x3037, PA: Jennifer x3842.” Excepting the whiteboard and some neatly placed checklists and hygiene notices, the walls were relatively bare. She flexed her fingers and stretched her back, then turned to her right, toward the window. Natalie had raised the window shade before she left, casting a bright glow across the dimly lit room. Now she could clearly see puffed white clouds kissing an endless azure sky, reminding her of home. What she wouldn’t give to be there right now with her family at her side. Mustn’t go there. She shook the thought from her mind and fixed her eyes on the closet in the far right corner of the room.
A chill snaked through her as she popped out of her bed and planted her bare feet on the cold tile. It was probably cold all along, but she had been too worked up to notice. Sefira was in her arms, so with her free hand she gingerly pushed the bassinet aside. As she pushed, she felt tension in the wires connected to her chest and forearm. Sighing, she fingered them and examined the beeping box and the bag of liquid they fed into. The box flashed numbers and zig-zagged lines. One was bad enough and now thanks to her earlier kerfuffle, she had an additional consolation prize—a second box whose tentacles wrapped around her arm. Every now and then, she’d hear a swishing sound, and the device would squeeze the life out of her. Nevertheless, she left the lines alone. Disconnection would surely trigger problems, and the last thing she needed was another problem. After placing the baby in the bassinet, she grabbed the pole with the boxes, and dragged it with her to the other side of the room. A handle in each palm, she tugged the closet doors open and found both of her bags sitting atop shelves. She lifted the larger bag first and sifted through clothes, shoes, and documents. They were all there. Afterward, she opened the backpack the humans could not. A sense of relief washed over her when her hand settled upon a cold, round object. Everything would be okay now.
She put her things away, shuffled over to the lavatory, and flicked the lights on. Earth was truly a strange place. In some ways it was very similar to where she was from and in others it was extremely divergent. The lavatory was minuscule compared to what she was used to. However, the fixtures were easily recognizable. Toilets, sinks, and mirrors were all in abundance on her planet. So were the gifts in the small trough sitting atop the ledge, underneath the mirror—a folded towel, washcloth, soap, and tiny brush were among them. After relieving herself, she made use of the items. Turning the faucet on, she let the water run until it was nice and hot. Her body longed for a shower, but she wasn’t about to complain. The slippery soap felt good in her hands, as did the warm water and washcloth against her skin. Wincing, she washed her hands, face, and the rest of her body as best she could—extra carefully around her abdomen—and toweled herself dry. Clearly, her body could’ve used more rest, as all of this was an effort. However, once she started, she couldn’t stop. Her teeth were next.
A small, plastic tube read “toothpaste.” She opened it and sniffed. It smelled of mint. The tiny brush was immediately put to work. Turns out toothpaste tasted pretty good. Not as good as her tincture, but good. By the time she was done, her mouth felt new. A mental note was made to pack all of these things and not to forget “toothpaste.”
Last, it was time to tackle her hair. Interestingly, she’d managed to clean up without having once looked in the mirror. She’d already seen her likeness in Natalie’s device, and she didn’t like what she saw. That woman looked frail and weak, as if she may or may not survive. In truth, she wasn’t certain that she could. Yora was the strong one, not her. And if Yora was gone…she refused to revisit the thought. At least not now. She wet her fingertips and raked them through her hair. With some effort, she managed to secure it in a bun—all without the aid of a mirror.
Having finished, she walked through the doorway, and one of the wheels on her pole caught the open door frame, causing the bag of liquid to sway. Frustrated, she steadied the liquid, backed the equipment up, and pulled it carefully through. The gadgetry. That was the major difference between her world and theirs. Everything lit up and beeped and clicked. They were less natural, somehow. If she were at home, a Healer would use herbs and tonic with a dash of magic to heal her. Not beeping boxes. It seemed that there was no magic here. Only gadgetry. It was strange, but something she figured she would have to get used to.
Forty-five minutes passed, and Lyrica was back in bed with a rumbling stomach. She glanced at the remote on the table a few inches away. Time to check on the disposition of her food. The bed squeaked as she reached for the device. As Sefira had made a pallet of her chest and was fast asleep, Lyrica moved slowly so as not to wake her up. Remote in hand, she was fumbling for the nurse call button when Dr. Witherspoon walked in, a plastic smile stretched across his face.
“How are you feeling?” he asked through thin lips. He took the remote from her and placed it on the table, just beyond her reach, then tended to the monitors.
“That’s a difficult question to answer.” Her baby began to stir, so she patted her back.
“I know, I’m sorry.” His perfunctory answer trailed off as he walked over to the sink, donned gloves, and tore open a small packet, retrieving what looked like some type of cloth. The scent of alcohol returned with him as he detached her line and carefully cleaned it. “Things are difficult for you now,” he said, glancing briefly at her. “But trust me, they will get better.” He pulled a vial and a syringe from his lab coat.
“What are you doing?” Lyrica asked.
Thrusting the syringe into the bottle, he drew the liquid. “Just giving you a little something to make you feel better.” He glanced at her briefly, and the look in his eyes sent a shiver down her spine.
“Wait.” She bear-hugged her child with an arm and attempted to sit up. “But I feel f—”
She couldn’t finish the sentence. His prosthetic smile lingered in her memory as he plunged the needle into her line. Her mind protested, but her mouth wouldn’t cooperate. A warm sensation flooded her veins and circulated through her bloodstream, rendering her powerless. She slumped down and watched helplessly as huge gloved hands pried Sefira from her seemingly lifeless arms, placing her in the bassinet. Her peripheral vision clouded; eyelids felt heavy; her gaze shifted down toward the floor. Black shoes. Shiny black shoes. They clicked as he walked across the room. Sounds invaded her mind. Drawers shut, metal squeaked, Sefira cried. The cries did
n’t bother Lyrica, though. Nothing bothered her anymore.
Natalie
Try as she might, Natalie Ford couldn’t get that debacle of a meet and greet with Ms. York out of her head. In all her years, she’d never seen anything quite like it. Everybody seemed so callous. The lady had just lost her kids, and they were all treating her like she was some type of circus animal. It just didn’t make sense—something was off, so she took it upon herself to pay closer attention to Ms. York and her well-being. It didn’t take her long to feel like that may not have been a good idea. The more she investigated, the weirder things became, prompting the conversation that was about to unfold with her superior.
“Sarah, do you have a minute? I want to run something by you.” Natalie realigned her wire-rimmed glasses as she waited for Sarah to acknowledge her. Sarah sat at her desk with her long, slightly off-kilter nose buried in documents. She licked her thumb and continued turning pages without so as much as a sign of acknowledgment. Geez, does she always have to be so smug? Natalie fought back the urge to smack her upside the head. Instead, she said, “I was looking through Ms. York’s charts, and I noticed a few inconsistencies.”
“Yeah? Like what?” The head nurse put her papers down and looked up, lips primmed.
“Well for starters, Ms. York had triplets, but the chart only reflects information for one child.”
“What? Who are we talking about again?”
“Ms. York. Room 12.”
“Oh, the nutty one. I’m sure it’s just an oversight, I’ll let the doctor kn— ”
“Also, her admit time is all wrong. It says here that she was admitted around 2:30 in the afternoon. That’s not right. She came in late that night. I remember, because I was covering and I was on the last leg of my shift.”
“Natalie, it was probably a typo. Just leave her chart open and I’ll get it straightened out,” she said, picking her papers back up.
Geez, I’ve been here less than two minutes and she’s already dismissing me, thought Natalie.
“Anything else?” added Sarah, impatiently.
“Um, one more thing.”
Sarah put her papers back down and looked squarely at Natalie. She leaned forward, an elbow on her desk and a hand propping her chin.
Natalie ignored the sass. “Her blood work came back, and some of her panels are out there. A mistake must have been made somewhere.”
“Let me see what you’ve got there.” Sarah took the tablet from Natalie and studied the panels. “I’ll bring all of this to Dr. Witherspoon’s attention.”
“Well, if you want, I can tell him. I’ll see him later on today anyway.”
“No, that’s okay. I’ll take care of it.” The tone in her voice made Natalie feel uncomfortable. “Please, save her chart and I’ll get to it later.”
“Sure.” Natalie clicked save, and closed the app without another word, but she wasn’t satisfied by anything Sarah had to say. During her lunch break, she decided to talk with one of her co-workers about the matter.
“So, what are you saying?” Jennifer inquired, as she scarfed down the last of her ham sandwich and leaned back in the metal patio chair. “Do you think they’re trying to hide something?”
“I don’t know, it’s just weird,” Natalie replied. “I’ve never picked up a chart and found so many discrepancies in it.”
“Well, if you feel that strongly about it, I think you should go and talk with Dr. Witherspoon directly. Bypass all the middlemen.”
“Yeah, maybe you’re right.”
“I think he’s still in his office. As long as his toupee isn’t too tight, he’ll listen. If you go now you could probably catch him.”
“I think I’ll do that,” said Natalie as she rose from the table and tossed the remainder of her lunch into a nearby trashcan. “It’s probably nothing, but I’d feel a lot better, you know?”
“I think you would too. Let me know how it goes.” said Jennifer, smoothing her short black hair.
“Alright, Jen. Catch you later.”
Natalie took the elevator up to the fourth floor and walked down a modestly decorated hallway. Dr. Witherspoon’s office was in a secluded section of the hospital, so foot traffic was fairly light. Down another corridor she turned, until she arrived in front of the doctor’s closed doors. She raised her fist to knock, and was met with the muffled sound of the doctor’s voice. It sounded like he was on the phone.
“I’m telling you, they are extraordinary.” He was pacing now—she could hear his shoes clacking across the floor. She leaned in. “We almost lost one, and within a few days, she fully recovered. We’ve conducted blood tests and brain scans as well, and you wouldn’t believe what they have revealed….Yes, they’re triplets, and two of them show promise. We’ve conducted similar tests on the mother too, and the results are similar.” He paused. “Listen, I’ve been practicing for over 25 years. Do you really think I’d put my reputation on the line over a hunch?” He paused again. “I can run more tests if you want. She’s in no hurry, and I don’t think she’ll require much convincing to stay, but there’s only so much I can do from here, I mean seriously….How long do you think it will take for you to make it down here?” The doctor sighed. “Yes, I certainly can, but on one condition. Logan, I want to head the research. This is my discovery. I don’t want some pencil pushing Feds squeezing me out. I expect that my new position will come with a pay raise as well. Yes, okay. Well, I’ve got to go. I’ll make sure she’s ready for you tomorrow morning…alright. Goodbye.”
“What’s the verdict?” A familiar female voice chimed in, surprising Natalie.
“They’re in. They’re coming down tomorrow morning,” answered Dr. Witherspoon.
“Fascinating. I noticed you didn’t mention me. The ‘we’ has quickly turned into an ‘I.’” The woman’s voice was tight.
“C’mon Leslie, you know we’re a team here. I couldn’t have pulled any of this off without you.” Dr. Leslie Kessel? Footsteps were audibly padding across the floor. Natalie briefly considered bailing, but this was way too juicy. She mustered the courage to stay. There was a momentary silence, then Dr. Kessel’s spoke, but it was so low that her sentences sounded broken. “So, what about… There’s nothing special about him… What…to do with it?”
She angled her right ear closer to the wooden door. One step closer and her head would’ve been knocking.
Witherspoon was speaking now. “What? You don’t think I could handle it?” he asked.
“You with a child? No. Too risky, ” stated Dr. Kessel.
Natalie felt sick to her stomach. What was that? She didn’t completely understand the cryptic conversation, but she had enough information to creep her out.
Samantha needs to get out of here.
Natalie retreated to her hospital wing as quickly as she could, her head swimming as she tried to imagine what she might say to this poor woman. Even if the lady believed her, how was she going to get her out without incriminating herself? To make matters worse, she didn’t have a whole lot of time. She needed to come up with something quick. As she busied herself at her nursing station, she eyed a cafeteria worker rounding the corner. He stopped in front of Samantha’s room with a cart full of goodies. Here goes nothing. Natalie left her station as discreetly as possible.
“I’ll take that in for you,” said Natalie, placing her hand on a tray. “I’ve got to take her vitals anyway.”
“Thanks. One less delivery for me. I’ll come back for the tray later.”
“No prob.” Natalie removed the food tray and knocked lightly on Ms. York’s door before slowly entering. “Knock, knock. Your food’s ready,” she whispered, in case the baby was asleep.
Samantha didn’t answer.
The door creaked as Natalie walked in. Ugh. She’s asleep. Darn it. Closing the door behind her, she moved the remote, put the tray on the table and approached her patient. Despite all the stress this woman had endured, she was still incredibly stunning, even in her sleep. Her hair was sw
ept up now, but it was black, thick, kinky and long with dark, luxurious eyelashes to boot. Like Sefira, her skin was flawless; smooth, like a work of art. The only difference being that Samantha’s was a darker, deeper shade of brown, with reddish undertones. Like nutmeg toasted under an island sun. The woman’s eyes were shut now, but when they were open, she couldn’t help but notice how dark and captivating they were—sultry. Prior to her, Natalie couldn’t recall using the word “sultry” to describe anyone. Not to be outdone, Samantha’s lips were thick, round and perfectly puffed. People paid big money for those lips. Heck, she’d pay big money for those lips. Yeah, this lady probably didn’t want for admirers. She glanced at the bassinet. Sefira was knocked out, just like her mother.
Ordinarily, Natalie wouldn’t dream of waking her up—this lady needed all the sleep she could get. But this situation was extraordinary, and extraordinary situations called for extraordinary measures. She gently nudged Samantha’s arm when, to her surprise, the woman jerked back and sat up, panting.
Pay It Forward
Startled and disoriented, Lyrica sat up to find two blue eyes peering down at her through round spectacles.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Natalie ceased pushing Lyrica’s forearm. “Ms. York are you okay?” Her face was full of concern.
“Yeah. I’m okay.” She lied. Her eyes darted around the room as she realigned her twisted hospital gown. She was relieved to see that Sefira was lying safely in her bassinet. Thank God. “I must’ve been dreaming,” she said, wiping the sweat from her brow.
“Let me help you with that.” Natalie reached for her gown.
“No. I’ve got it. Thanks.” She tried not to sound too curt.
“I, um—brought you some food.”
“Oh.”
“I’ll be the first to admit, the food here is…well…I tried to pick what was most popular. Baked chicken and potatoes with a side of spinach. Got some apple and cranberry juice in here as well, plus a chocolate chip cookie. Who doesn’t love a chocolate chip cookie? I’ll get things situated for you.” Natalie smiled, but something wasn’t right. The woman’s hands trembled slightly as she sorted out the food on the table. “Where are you from?”
For Blood & Glory Page 4
