Concisus

by Tracy Rozzlynn

  Satisfied that I can no longer give them problems, the doctors and scientists continue their work. I examine and test the restraints, search for any point of weakness that could allow me to escape, but I’m out of luck. In addition to Velcro straps, the restraints have a black safety clasp which requires a thumb and forefinger pinch to release. Unless someone accidentally drops a pair of medical shears right into my hand, I’m not going anywhere on my own. I move to plan B: act really, really nice, cooperate, and hope someone takes pity on me and releases me.

  By the next day, I’ve all but given up hope. Unless it’s test related, not a single person speaks to me or even looks me in the eyes. No matter how nicely I plead and beg, no one will tell me about Ryan. I fear he’s sick or worse, and though I pray I’m wrong, Ryan’s illness would explain the silence.

  When yet another doctor or scientist enters the room. I keep my eyes closed and continue to pray that Ryan is alive and well. When I feel a tiny pinprick on the back of my hand, I open my eyes and see a butterfly needle sticking into the skin. So far, none of the doctors in isolation have agreed to use my hand veins to draw blood.

  The isolation suits make faces impossible to discern unless the person looks directly at me. Hopeful, I ask, “Dr. Lambert?”

  He turns and shows his sandy blond hair and smiling eyes. “How many times do I need to ask you to call me Chad,” he softly laughs.

  Relieved I laugh. “If you can get me out of this mess I’ll call you whatever you want.”

  Looking down, Chad watches me with pity. “I hear you’ve had a rough day.”

  “Yeah, that’s a bit of an understatement.” I sound as miserable as I feel.

  His eyes sweep around the room, land on the soldier and then return to me. He shakes his head. “I’m sorry I don’t have the authority to remove the restraints.” My stomach knots. No matter how nice or sympathetic he is, I’m stuck right where I am.

  Against my will, tears stream down my cheeks. I turn my face into my pillow. “All I wanted was some answers. Why are they treating me like this? I didn’t do anything wrong,” I cry. “I got caught in a flood and stranded in the woods, but I’m being treated like a dangerous animal. They won’t let me see Ryan or even tell me how he is. It just doesn’t make any sense.” Before my tears can completely choke off my voice I look up and plead, “Please can you just tell me what’s going on? Is Ryan okay?”

  “You don’t know?” Chad’s forehead furrows. “How could you not see it?”

  I’m even more confused. “See what?”

  There’s a long pause before Chad explains, “Well, for starters, Ryan’s just as fine as you are.”

  After all this time waiting, I won’t settle for vague answers. “What does that mean? Do you think we’re ill or contagious? Just what’s going on?”

  “It’s hard to describe, but you and Ryan are brighter. Your skin, your eyes, heck, even your nails are more vibrant.” He searches around the room, comes back with a mirror, and holds it up to my face.

  My dark auburn hair contains streaks of brighter red, but like the hint of freckles on my nose, the cause is most likely the sun. What really stands out as unusual are my eyes—they shine bright blue instead of their usual, pale shade. Plus, for the first time in my life, I have a tan. As much as I’d like to solely credit the sun, I can’t. My face is much darker than my ivory complexion should allow, and it has the unnatural glow of a self-tanning lotion, minus the unpleasant orange hue.

  When I glance back at Chad’s face, the difference seems drastic. Compared to me, Chad looks dull and grey. The change must have happened so slowly that Ryan and I never noticed, but Chad’s right. Everything on me is brighter. That explains everyone’s strange behavior and bombardment of questions.

  “Can you at least try to convince them to remove the restraints? It’s not like I’m the first person to ever have strange pigmentation from something they ate.”

  He runs a finger aside my bruised arm veins. “I’ll try, but don’t hold your breath. You really ticked Kevin off, and his ego’s ballooned since getting the lead position on this.”

  I choke back a sob.

  He holds up his hands and shushes me. “Don’t cry. I’ll talk to Dr. Wickerham if I need to.” He drops his hands and rocks back on his heels. “Just promise me you’ll behave. Stubbornness and persistence won’t work in this situation. It will only gain you more grief.”

  “Okay.”

  At the end of the day, I’m still in restraints, counting the ceiling tiles for the hundredth time and contemplating my brightness. I could possibly get out of my restraints by admitting the likely cause, Caper’s opal berries, but my desire to protect him wins out.

  The next morning, Kevin releases me. By the sour expression on Kevin’s face, I assume Chad was true to his word and went to Dr. Wickerham for my release. I return the favor with my best behavior. I don’t give Kevin a hard time; I answer all his redundant questions without complaint, and cooperate with every test, regardless how strange it may seem.

  As my color fades, everyone around me relaxes and starts to talk and joke with me. Eventually Kevin allows me out of my room and gives me free reign of my quarantine section. Considering the size of the field hospital, my quarters are modest—a small kitchen, a recreation room, and several patient rooms. Ryan shares the space and that’s all that really matters to me.

  Ryan is a welcomed and breathtaking sight. His brighter appearance isn’t the only gradual change I’d failed to notice. The dimple on his cheek is all that remains of his once boyish looks. A leaner, travel-hardened version of him stands before me. His chestnut hair has grown shaggy over the last month, but I like the look on him. I muse about what it will feel like to kiss him without the soft tickle of his beard and to feel his bare, warm cheek against mine, but I’ll have to wait until we have some time alone.

  I’m relieved to discover that Ryan’s sleeping in a hospital bed instead of a pod. I still haven’t shared my theory with him, but I suspect the pods are behind my previous attraction to Brody and his to Kelly.

  With Ryan to keep me company, quarantine becomes enjoyable, despite the continued tests and the complete lack of privacy. The rec room is tiny but we stay busy. I use the extra time to study emergency medicine. I never want to feel as helpless as I did when the flower attacked Ryan and nearly killed him. When Ryan’s not helping me study, he spends most of his free time sketching plants we encountered. The lifelike colored pencil drawings are beautiful, but they remind me how much I miss being outdoors. A bay window in the rec room is our only view of the outside world.

  One day Chad catches me pining at the window and surprises me with a pair of binoculars. Through the lenses, I watch the last hints of summer fade as autumn takes hold. The fern-shaped needles on the pine trees fade from deep green to light gray, while the leaves of the deciduous trees burst into a rainbow of vibrant colors; blues and purples join the expected fall hues. The trumpet flowers that vine up the tree trunks wilt, leaving a delicate black lace pattern that beautifully contrasts the soft white to blue-gray tree bark.

  Ryan and I become impatient with the drawn out quarantine and demand a release date. Our color is normal again, but the doctors insist on more testing to ensure we’re all right and refuse to offer any kind of timeframe.

  Chapter 3

  At the beginning of the fifth week, Kevin leads me to a small round room that has a table in the center of it. I sit down and observe that the wall facing me is composed entirely of glass. On the other side sit Dr. Brant and several of the other field managers.

  The group of them intimidates me. The way they fire me with questions makes the meeting feel like an interrogation. Dr. Brant is especially relentless with her questions. I worry she knows I’m holding something back, but I stick to my story. Eventually the group tires of hearing the same answers over and over and dismiss me. On the way back to my quarantine area, I pass Ryan being led to the round room.

  At the end of the week, Kevin
enters the recreation room and announces. “Your quarantine is over.” He motions for us to follow him, and leaves abruptly.

  Kevin leads us to a pair of doors. He directs Ryan to the right and me to the left door which leads to a small changing area, with a shower. I’ve never been in this area of the hospital before. A computer voice from an overhead speaker instructs, “Please remove all clothing and proceed to showers.”

  I step in the large shower and a glass door closes behind me. Showerheads line the ceiling, walls, and floor and douse me in an ice-cold liquid that smells more like cleaning fluid than water. The pressure of the water stings my skin making me feel as though I’m in a high-powered car wash. Liquid streams into my mouth, and I gag from the horrible taste. I’m careful to keep my eyes tightly closed. When the water stops, I hear the computer-operated door slide open. I feel my way through, not daring to open my eyes to the chemicals. My outstretched hands touch glass, as the door behind me slides closed. I reach out from my sides and feel tiles and more showerheads, which turn on full force again. This time the water is hot, too hot for comfort but at least it smells and tastes like water. When the water stops, I open my eyes.

  Another glass door in front of me opens and leads to a third shower which appears normal and stocked with shampoo and body wash on a small built-in shelf. I turn on the shower, adjust the water to a comfortable temperature, and take my time. As I turn off the water, the glass door in front of me slides open – the final glass door. A towel hangs on a peg next to the door, and I step out and carefully pat dry my sore skin. I see fresh, folded purple and black on a bench, so I dress before I towel dry my hair. Being back in uniform instead of a gown or scrubs is more of a comfort than I expected. Seeing no brush or comb, I pull my fingers through my hair and exit the room.

  Ryan’s waiting on the other side with Dr. Brant. “Well it’s about time,” she snaps.

  Both Ryan and I stare, dumbfounded by her demeanor.

  Her next words are softer. “Never mind, you’re both here now and you may enter the base.”

  Despite my lingering mixed feelings toward Dr. Brant and the rest of the field managers that interrogated me, I thank her, and she waves me off.

  “Don’t mention it. Just take your time getting acclimated back to base life. I’ll meet with you again when you’re ready to go back out into the field.”

  “What do you mean when we’re ready?” I blurt. “Just how long will we have to wait to get back to work?”

  She gives me a stern look that has the feel of a threat. “That depends on you. After the trauma you’ve been through, the other field managers and I believe it’s best to give you some time. Besides, I need to be sure the two of you won’t repeat any of what happened.” She leaves the room before I can argue.

  I pace and rub a hand along the back of my neck. Grounded! I can’t believe she actually grounded us, and she didn’t even have the decency to say so directly.

  “Trauma? Ha!” I rant to Ryan. “Can you believe that? They’re worried about our trauma. The only trauma I’ve had is from them! Friggin’ lab rats. Heck, a rabid dog gets treated better than they treated us!”

  Ryan crosses over and folds me in his arms. I bury my face in his chest and breathe in his scent, which currently has an antiseptic quality to it, but I don’t mind. He’s still Ryan, and this is the only privacy we’ve had in weeks. I reach one arm around his waist and rest the other on his neck. Ryan leans down, lightly kisses my forehead, my cheek, and finally my lips. His kiss is slow and gentle. My tongue traces his lips, and his responding kiss has an intensity that spreads warmth through my body. Footsteps approach before I completely melt in his arms.

  Begrudgingly, I pull away. We’ve agreed to keep our relationship quiet until we break up with Brody and Kelly. Having them find out about us as a rumor would just be cruel. “Let’s go to the base so we can remember what it feels like to be normal.”

  Ryan laughs softly. “Normal. I’m not sure what that is anymore.” He leans in, brushes his lips against mine, then lets out a soft moan. “I’d rather stay for more of this, but I did promise to thank someone profusely the minute we got back.”

  The thought of Andi is enough to make me want to run back to the base. Ryan takes my hand and leads me onto the base.

  I dread facing the potential crowd of well-wishers, but I’m confused and disappointed when we enter the base and no one is there to welcome us. Not a single friend. I thought someone would have at least told Jake and Molly about our return to base.

  “I guess they decided to keep our release quiet.” Ryan looks around. “Let’s find Andi.”

  “Come on. We’re gonna be late.” A couple of girls in party dresses run past us.

  Ryan jerks his head in their direction. “Should we follow?”

  “Sure. I just hope it’s not a surprise party for us.” I’d rather individually hunt down our friends than be the center of everyone’s attention.

  “Me too.” He rests his hand on the small of my back. Remembering appearances, I step away, but the heat of his touch lingers.

  The girls are a little far north to be so dressed up. Only labs, offices, and the base hospital are in the immediate area. Further north are the warehouses and manufacturing buildings which remain inactive for the most part.

  The girls jog along the perimeter fence, past the shops and dining halls. They don’t stop at the recreation centers or dorms, but continue into married housing until they reach a large crowd all dressed in formal attire. The group has their backs toward us, as they look at something—the tree Ryan planted for me. But why?

  I understand as soon as we get near. Streams of tulle and silk bows adorn a metal arch beside the tree. A narrow white carpet forms an aisle, dividing the crowd, and at the end of the aisle stands a nervous groom and his Best Man. The people around us are not brainless pod people but guests of a wedding.

  “Brett? Ryan? Is it really you?” Wendy calls in her sugary-sweet voice and weaves her way through the crowd. Rising up on her toes, she throws her arms around us both. “I can’t believe it. They’d said you’d been found, but it seemed too good to be true.”

  I gasp for air and pry her arm from my neck. “Well, it’s true.” Music begins and a hush spreads through the crowd. The Maid of Honor scatters rose petals along the aisle at the feet of the bride in overflowing white silk, who gazes adoringly at her groom while she moves up the aisle.

  My tree is nothing more than a pretty backdrop for the event. I’m annoyed that they’ve taken my spot, but the wedding itself disturbs me. A chill runs up my spine. That could have been me. A couple of months ago, I never would have believed my feelings for Brody were artificial. I want to run up the aisle and scream a warning, but the couple looks head-over-heels in love, and would never believe me. I didn’t feel that kind of deep love for Brody—maybe these two are meant to be together.

  To be polite we stay until the end of the ceremony. Everyone cheers when the bride and groom kiss and then the happy couple leads a procession away from my tree. From the conversations we overhear, we know they’re going to the recreation hall with the dance floor. Wendy waits for us.

  A mischievous look twinkles in Ryan’s eye. “Feel like dancing?”

  I shake my head. “I’m not in the mood.” I motion for Wendy to go ahead without us.

  “I thought all girls loved weddings,” he teases.

  “Only if it’s to the right guy.”

  “You have something against the groom?” His face drops. “You’re thinking of Brody.”

  “Yeah, something like that.” Actually, it’s nothing like that, but I’ve decided to talk to Andi before I share my pod theory with anyone else. “Let’s go see Andi. It’ll be more fun than any wedding reception.”

  We quietly enter the lab. Andi and Jeremy are working in the large bay area of the research and development lab on what looks like two small robots. Andi’s spiked hair has grown longer and lays flat all on its own now. Jeremy looks exactly as I
remember him, tall and lanky with hair several shades darker than Andi’s platinum blond. All they need are pouty expressions to look more like models than inventors. I motion for Ryan to wait while I enjoy their competitive banter.

  Andi scoops something up off the ground. “And just what good will your puny pincer grasp be when you have to dig? And don’t you dare tell me this toy is going to accomplish anything.” Andi waves a small, metallic shovel in the air.

  Unable to resist, I say, “What if it just wants to play in a giant sandbox?”

  Andi and Jeremy turn around and stare wide-eyed. The metal shovel clanks against the ground, and briefly I worry Andi will faint, but then she remembers to breathe and her color returns. Hurdling over the second robot, she rushes to give me a strangling hug.

  “Brett! I told them to keep looking. I knew if anyone could survive it was you two, but they wouldn’t listen—they wouldn’t let me go out on my own.” I hate hearing the grief in her voice.

  Ryan rescues me from Andi’s death grip by pulling her into a hug of his own. “Andi, you’ve done more than enough for us already.” He steps back and holds her at arm length. “The only reason we’re still alive is because of your inventions. If you hadn’t insisted Brett carry them with her, we’d be dead. Don’t beat yourself up, and thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you for saving us.”

  “My inventions?” Andi hiccups. Unexpected tears stream down my face, and blur my vision. I’ve missed Andi and her quirks, including the hiccups that start whenever she’s upset.

  “For starters you need to start mass producing your igloo,” I say. “Every scientific team should have at least one. It’s how we survived the flood. Plus, even after the beating it took, it still worked as a portable shelter. On the colder nights, your sleeping bag kept us warm without the need for a fire, so we could stay completely protected at night. Your jerky still needs better flavoring, but it kept us going when there was no food to forage for. So, you shouldn’t be apologizing but patting yourself on the back for saving us.”