A Girl Like You

by John Locke

  Sam does.

  “We’re trying to save your life here, son.”

  Sam raises his head again, and closes his eyes. This is how he accesses information he’s read in the past. Sam’s a genius. He’s one of six people in the world who has Superior Autobiographical Memory, the initials of which are why he calls himself Sam. In addition, he is only one of three people in the world who possess Mega Savant number skills who isn’t mentally disabled. Simply put, he is one of six people in the world who can do one thing, one of three who can do another, and the only one in the world who can do both.

  Sam opens his eyes and starts reciting, but his heart isn’t in it. He’s no longer sure of himself, and his words are coming out in a monotone. “Water moccasin bites do not create anaphylactic reactions in their victims. Moreover, their venom does not contain the neurotoxins common to rattlesnake venom. These bites create severe pain and swelling…”

  “In most cases, that’s correct,” Dr. Drake says. “And I have to admit, your knowledge of water moccasin bites is far superior to mine, which is why I had to read up on the subject this morning. But there’s one thing you missed.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Water moccasin venom contains proteolytic substances that can cause severe tissue destruction.”

  “I’m not familiar with the term ‘proteolytic.’”

  “It refers to agents that aid in the breakdown and assimilation of proteins.”

  Sam ponders this explanation a moment, then says, “Something’s happening.” He looks at the nurse. “What did you just do?”

  She looks at Dr. Drake.

  Drake says, “She gave you something to relax.”

  “I don’t want to relax!”

  The Doc motions the nurse to leave. When she does, Sam says, “You should be able to counteract the tissue destruction with a course of antibiotics. Try that, before you go around sawing off people’s legs.”

  “I’m afraid it’s gone beyond that.”

  “Well, I’m not giving my permission. You take my leg off, I’ll sue.”

  “You’ve already signed the release form, Mr. Case, and you need this amputation to save your life. As a responsible physician—”

  Sam struggles to rise to a sitting position. “I never signed any fucking form that gives you permission to cut off my leg! This is complete and utter bullshit! I want to see the Chief of Staff.”

  Dr. Drake says, “The consent form you signed upon admittance authorizes us to perform any surgery we deem necessary to save your life.”

  “Yeah, well I’m rescinding it here and now. What are you smiling about?”

  “I’m sorry. It’s just that your word choice—rescinding—comes from the Latin words that mean ‘to cut off.’”

  “Yeah, that’s really fucking hilarious. Anyone tell you your bedside manner sucks?”

  Sam’s words are starting to slur. Whatever the nurse gave him has begun taking effect.

  “I apologize,” Drake says. “But it doesn’t change the fact you require this procedure in order to stop tissue destruction at the knee. We’re not just saving your life, we’re also saving the upper part of your leg. And I can tell you, it’s a heck of a lot easier to fit a prosthetic to your knee than it is to fit an entire leg. It’s also less dangerous, and the time it takes to adapt is, by comparison, almost insignificant.”

  “You almost make it sound appealing.”

  “You’d be amazed how far the science has come.”

  “Save your enthusiasm for someone who gives a rat’s ass. I’ll take my chances. First of all, I don’t believe any of this. This is one of Creed’s bullshit scams.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

  “Where are you, Creed? Hiding under my bed?”

  “Mr. Case, please.”

  “Are you even a doctor?”

  “I can assure you, I’ve been a surgeon here at Brightside since the hospital was established. I know you’re upset, and it’s clear I could have done a better job explaining your condition. But your current state of agitation demonstrates your inability to make a rational decision about revoking the release you signed. And since your wife has signed the authorization, I really don’t understand your—”

  “What? My wife? Wha—what did you just say?”

  “Your wife, Rachel. She signed the authorization form, agreeing to the surgery.”

  “When?”

  “We briefed her about an hour ago.”

  “She’s here?”

  “Of course.”

  “You’re joking.”

  “Mr. Case…”

  From my office, I press Lou’s intercom and shout, “Come quickly.”

  Sam says, “If Rachel really was here, she’d have come in to see me.”

  “She wanted to wait until after the surgery.”

  “Send her in. If Rachel’s here, send her in.”

  Dr. Drake sighs and says, “Very well, Mr. Case. I’ll ask her. But if she agrees, it’s only for a minute. We need to get you prepped for surgery.”

  As Dr. Drake leaves Sam’s room, Lou hustles into my office.

  “What’s up?”

  I point to the screen.

  Sam and I, and Lou, are all straining to see what’s about to happen.

  “What are we looking at?” Lou says.

  “Shhh,” I say, pointing at the screen.

  “But nothing’s happening.”

  I hold my hand up to silence him, while keeping my eyes riveted to the computer monitor in front of me.

  A minute goes by, then another. Then the door to Sam’s hospital room opens, and Dr. Elton Drake walks in, followed by Rachel Case.

  20.

  “Holy shit!” I say.

  “Is Sam asleep?” Lou says.

  “Look at the other screen and tell me. I can’t take my eyes off Rachel.”

  “He’s asleep.”

  Rachel rushes over to the bed and says, “Sam! Wake up!”

  She pushes his shoulder. He begins to stir. Through thick lips he murmurs, “Rachel?”

  “I’m here, Sam,” she says.

  He lifts his hand in an attempt to touch her, but it falls to the bed.

  “He’s out cold,” Lou says. “You think she fooled him?”

  “She would’ve fooled me,” I say. “Except for the voice.”

  “The voice still needs work,” Lou agrees. “But Hailey’s good. She’ll be ready when we need her.”

  “I’m counting on it.”

  Lou introduced me to Hailey Brimstone nine months ago. She was then—and continues to be—the best body double I’ve ever seen.

  “Nice debut,” I say.

  “Sam was so drugged out, I doubt his conscious mind will remember seeing her.”

  Lou shook his head. “I hate dealing with geniuses. It’s a hell of a lot easier beating normal people into cooperating.”

  “Yeah, but it wouldn’t be as much fun.”

  We watch Hailey leave the room with Dr. Drake.

  I ask, “Does Dr. Drake think Hailey’s his wife?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Good.”

  Lou and I watch the medical personnel enter the room. He says, “Do you feel bad about Sam’s leg?”

  “No.”

  “You’re a hard case, Donovan.”

  “I gave him several chances to help me. And he refused.”

  “But you still need him.”

  “I do. But he needs to know I mean business.”

  “I expect this will convince him.”

  “You’d think so.”

  Two orderlies and two nurses transfer Sam to a gurney. Then they push him out the door, to surgery.

  21.

  It’s late afternoon, and Rachel has been gone five days and approximately twelve hours.

  I spend the next two hours running the perimeter of the Sensory Resources complex, which is far and away the most beautiful running course I’ve ever seen. I’d describe it in detail if I had
the time, but I don’t. Because after a quick shower I get to my desk just as Sam is regaining consciousness for the second time. Deputies Caruso and Brightside are standing at his bedside. A nurse stands on the opposite side of Sam’s bed, taking a reading of his vital signs. Some words were exchanged between Dr. Drake and the detectives a few moments earlier, the result being that Drake refused to allow the detectives access to Sam without a staff member being present.

  Thirty minutes ago they had to administer a sedative after showing Sam his stump.

  A few minutes pass, then Sam begins moaning.

  “You’ve had a rough day,” Detective Brightside says.

  Sam looks at him. Then looks at Detective Caruso.

  “Donovan Creed did this to me,” he says.

  “Who’s Donovan Creed?” Brightside says.

  “The guy with the snake. The guy who turned off my alarm. The guy who’s trying to force me to tell him about Rachel.”

  “Rachel’s your wife.”

  “Yes. Is she still here?”

  “I don’t know. We just got here a half hour ago. She hasn’t been in your room, though. And according to the nurses, you’ve had no visitors except us.”

  “She was here. I saw her. Spoke to her.”

  “Well, it’s possible she got past the nurses. So what did Rachel do?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You said this guy, Creed, is trying to force you to tell him about Rachel. What did she do, and why does he care?”

  “She’s been kidnapped.”

  The Genes look at each other. Caruso says, “You just said she was here.”

  Sam looks confused. “I must’ve dreamed it.”

  Caruso says, “What’s this about a kidnapping? Did you dream that, too?”

  “No. She was kidnapped.”

  “By who?”

  “Whom.”

  “What?”

  “By whom.”

  “That’s what I’m askin’ you, you prick.”

  Sam looks at Caruso. “What happened to your eyebrows?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Sam focuses on Brightside. “Last time you guys were here, his eyebrows were gone. Now yours are.”

  Brightside and Caruso look at each other. Brightside says, “Maybe we should come back after the drugs wear off. You’re not making much sense.”

  “Do you have eyebrows or don’t you?” Sam says.

  “I don’t,” Brightside says. “But I haven’t had eyebrows for three days. Gene’s always had eyebrows, long as I’ve known him.”

  “That doesn’t make sense,” Sam says, looking back and forth from one Gene to the other. To Brightside, he says, “What happened to them?”

  “What do you care?”

  “I have to know.”

  Brightside shrugs. “My wife caught me cheating. We had a big fight, I got drunk, passed out on the couch. She shaved them off while I was unconscious. What’s your story?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Brightside asks the nurse if she has a mirror.

  “Top drawer,” she says.

  Caruso opens the drawer on the bed table, pulls out a hand mirror, holds it in front of Sam’s face.

  “What the fuck?”

  “Guess we both got caught cheating, huh?” Brightside says.

  Sam looks at the nurse. “Why the hell did you people shave my eyebrows?”

  She says, “You’ve had no eyebrows since you’ve been here.”

  “Creed!” Sam shouts.

  “You think this Creed character forced a snake to bite your nuts, then snuck into your hospital room and shaved off your eyebrows?” Brightside says.

  “No. I think he shaved them off after the snake bit me. While I was lying on the floor, helpless.”

  Caruso frowns. “What kind of twisted fuck would do that?”

  “The kind who’d let them amputate my leg to get what he wants.”

  “And what’s that?” Brightside says.

  “Rachel.”

  “What, he’s after your wife?”

  “He’s her boyfriend. They’ve been having an affair for years.”

  “And someone kidnapped her? When?”

  “He said Tuesday morning. Around the time the doctor died.”

  “What doctor?”

  Sam shakes his head, trying to clear it. “Forget the doctor. A branch of the government sent a squad to kidnap Rachel. Creed’s trying to find her. He came to me for help.”

  “What can you do?”

  “I can logically deduce answers to hypothetical questions based on random bits of data.”

  Caruso says, “Give me a for instance.”

  “You want a for instance? Fine. I can tell you’re not married.”

  “What, because I don’t wear a ring?”

  “No. Because you’re uglier than shit.”

  “Asshole.”

  Brightside says, “What’s the question Creed wants answered?”

  Sam says, “Why would the government kidnap a woman and kill her doctor because of the results of her blood test?”

  “So the doctor was killed?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You said he was dead. Was he killed?”

  “Creed thinks so.”

  Brightside nods. “We can check it out.”

  No one says anything for a minute. Then Brightside says, “Do you know?”

  “What?”

  “The answer to Creed’s question.”

  Sam nods.

  “What is it?”

  At my desk, I lean forward.

  22.

  “Get rid of the camera,” Sam says.

  “What camera?” Brightside says.

  “The one Creed’s monitoring us on.”

  “You think he snuck in here and put cameras in your room?”

  “I know he did.”

  “When?”

  “Before I got here.”

  Brightside frowns. “How would he know which room you’d get?”

  “How the fuck do I know? He just does this shit. He can do anything. Trust me, he’s watching us right now. You hear that, Creed? I’m onto you!” Sam shouts.

  Brightside says, “That’s crazy.”

  But Gene Caruso doesn’t think so. He’s looking around the room.

  I’m not concerned. These are pinhole cameras, state of the art. They perfectly match the background. You’d have to know exactly what you’re looking for and where to look.

  Caruso picks up the chair from the corner and drags it to the far wall that faces the foot of Sam’s bed.

  “Sir—” the nurse says.

  Caruso dismisses her with a wave of his hand. He climbs on the chair and stares straight into the camera.

  “Nothing here,” he says.

  Then he pulls off his shoe and smashes the camera.

  “Sir!” the nurse shouts.

  My screen goes dead. Good thing I’ve got another one. The nurse presses the call button.

  “What’s that all about?” Brightside says.

  “Son of a bitch was right. Pinhole camera. Smallest one I ever saw. Smaller than Sam’s dick, even.”

  “Funny,” Sam says. “There’s got to be at least three more. Check every wall.”

  The nurse’s station answers the page. Sam’s nurse says, “The detectives need to leave. Please call security.”

  To the detectives, the nurse says, “I suggest you both leave. Immediately.”

  “We’re conducting an investigation,” Brightside says.

  Caruso is busy checking the second wall.

  “Nothing here,” he says.

  Brightside says, “Sam. Do you know where your wife is? Yes or no?”

  I can’t see Sam’s face. But I hear him say, “No.”

  “So you don’t know if she’s been kidnapped at all.”

  “I believe him. About this.”

  “You say this happened on Tuesday? That’s four days ago. Why wasn’t it reported?”

 
“Rachel lives in seclusion with a lady named Nadine Crouch. She’s a psychiatrist. When they kidnapped Rachel, they tried to kill Nadine. She’s been in the hospital ever since. She was the only one who could’ve reported the kidnapping. And she was in a coma until yesterday. When she woke up, she called Creed.”

  “Why would she call him instead of you?”

  “Because he’s the one who employs her.”

  Nothing on the third wall,” Caruso says, which leaves the wall where my remaining camera is located. Caruso slides the chair over, and stands on it. He’s about ten feet from my camera. He steps off the chair and slides it three feet closer. Then stands on it and carefully inspects the wall.

  “What’s the answer to the question?” Brightside says.

  Caruso moves his chair to the edge of the bed. He has to stand almost three feet from the wall, because of the bed table. From that angle there’s no way he can see my camera.

  “I found it!” he yells.

  He removes his shoe.

  Two men from hospital security burst through the door. “Sir!” one of them says. “Step down!”

  Gene Caruso puts his left hand against the wall to steady himself. His shoe is in his right hand. All I can see on my monitor is the bottom of his shoe as he’s about to smack the camera.

  “What’s the answer?” Brightside says.

  “Sir, stand down!” the guard says to Caruso.

  Caruso ignores him. He winds up, ready to smash the camera.

  Sam says, “Break the camera and I’ll tell you.”

  Caruso’s shoe smashes into the wall, bursting the camera.

  But not the sound system. That’s working fine. I hear Sam laughing. He calls me a prick.

  Brightside and Caruso are talking to the nurse and guards. They’re showing credentials. After a couple of minutes of discussion, the guards decide they don’t have the power to throw the detectives out, because they’re investigating a kidnapping, and Sam corroborates that fact.

  Sam says, “If I tell you, you’ve got to promise not to talk to Creed.”

  “Why would we do that?” Brightside says.

  “He’ll get it out of you. But you can’t tell him. You’ve got to tell your superiors. Promise me.”

  “Promise you what?” Brightside says.

  “Promise you’ll call your superiors from this room, before you leave.”

  “Fine.”