by G. R. Lyons
“Throttling a woman ain't nothing, Grae,” Jase said with a laugh.
Graeden dropped his fork and threw up his hands. “She stabbed her husband. Almost killed him. Probably would have, if they hadn't gotten him here as quickly as they did.”
“Oh. Well, then.”
Jase fell silent, and Graeden went back to his meal while he read over the details of the patient's lab results on Jase's desk.
“Still,” Jase began around a mouthful of food, “you sure that was such a good idea?”
Graeden looked up at him from under his eyelashes.
“Right. Dropping subject.”
“This reading here doesn't make any sense,” Graeden said, pointing at a line on the lab report in order to change the subject. “Are you sure this sample wasn't contaminated?”
Jase shook his head, chuckling to himself, and turned his attention to their work. “Quite sure. We ran four different samples on four different occasions. Always the same results. But you're right, that right there is what concerns me. The counts are far too low to be natural.”
“What's his diet like?” Graeden asked.
“Healthy, balanced, normal. Trust me, we've been over everything. Diet, exercise, medications, allergies, medical history, family history, chemical exposure. Nothing seems to account for it.”
Graeden raised an eyebrow. “Do we even have a chemical exposure problem anywhere on Agoran anymore?”
Jase shrugged. “No, but the man is actually Ceynesian by birth, and gods-know-what unsanitary or primitive technologies they're using over there. Then again, he's been off Ceynes for almost twenty years.”
“Well, a chemical exposure could lie dormant for that long and slowly eat away at him from the inside,” Graeden mumbled, looking over the other details on the lab report. “But I don't see how that would explain these readings.” He tapped on the questionable line, tilting his head to one side. “This would almost make sense if the man were Tanasian, but…Gods, Jase, I have no idea.”
“Why Tanasian?”
Graeden took a bite of his baked chicken and chewed thoughtfully. “I was digging through archives once, trying to find case studies for a bacterial infection that was going around. You remember, right after we started working here? I found this one old record, from about sixty years ago, with just a lab report on a blood panel but no patient data. Post-mortem blood analysis, and the notes said the body wasn't available for some reason. Anyway, the blood was apparently from a Tanasian woman with some sort of lung disease, and the blood panel showed levels similar to this.”
Jase frowned as he looked down at the patient data, stuffing his mouth full of chicken while he flipped through a few more reports in the file.
“You think that's why they want us on Tanas?” Jase finally asked.
Graeden threw down his fork. “Jase, please don't tell me you're going there.”
“Why not?” Jase shrugged. “Leni and Quinn are going, too. Could be interesting. I've never gotten to study a Tanasian patient directly before.”
“Jase.” Graeden shoved his plate aside and leveled a look at his friend. “You do realize what you'll be up against over there, right?”
Jase shrugged again. “So we'll have to weed through some bureaucratic red tape. It's still an opportunity, Grae.”
“Jase. You've never had to deal with bureaucratic red tape–”
“Hey, I've heard the horror stories, same as you. Read the history books. I know how frustrating things used to be here before the government was shut down–”
“But Jase, reading about it and experiencing it are two different things,” Graeden insisted, leaning toward his friend. “I get riled up just reading about the old laws that used to be in place. How do you think you'll handle it when those same laws—hells, even worse laws!—that are in place on Tanas prevent you from doing your job?”
Jase looked at him and sighed, then closed the files on his desk screen and sat back in his chair.
“Grae, I want to go, alright? Yeah, it'll blow having to put up with their regulations, but imagine the things we'll be able to learn! The Tanasians have abilities we can only dream about. I mean, the rumors about their mental powers alone! Can you imagine studying their brains? Think of the applications!”
Graeden folded his hands on the desk and leveled a look at his friend. “And how precisely do you plan to study their brains without imagers, scanners, holograms?”
Jase opened his mouth to answer, then paused, frowning. “Hmmm. Hadn't thought of that. They probably don't have those, do they?”
“Jase, you're going to have to actually write on charts. You know, pen and paper.”
Jase shivered. “Alright, that'll be seriously weird.”
Graeden sat back and crossed his arms over his chest, and a moment later his friend did the same, both of them staring blankly at the remains of their meal and the blank screen beneath it.
“You sure you don't want to come with us?” Jase asked, breaking the silence.
Graeden shook his head. “No, thank you. I have zero interest in setting foot on that Isle, medical breakthroughs be damned.”
“Not even to see where your grandfather grew up?”
“Please.” Graeden snorted. “From the stories he's told me, it all sounds either dreadfully boring, or dangerous, or just plain backwards and uncivilized. No, there's not a single thing over there that could entice me to go.”
Jase chuckled and shook his head. “No convincing you at all, eh? Not even to tag along with your oldest friend?”
Graeden turned and stared out the window for a long moment, then took a deep breath and murmured, “Only one thing in the world could possibly drive me away from here, and I'm not holding my breath.”
“What's that?” Jase asked.
But Graeden couldn't make himself answer.
Chapter 6
SEVERAL DAYS passed, with Graeden feeling more than seeing the whirlwind of activity around him as a few of his colleagues prepared to turn over their patients during their journey to Tanas. Busy with his own patients, Graeden stuck to his routine, going through his daily rounds and paperwork and surgeries, but always putting everything on hold for two hours in the middle of the day so he could visit Mrs. Newar's apartment.
It meant working later and later into the night, but nothing could make him miss his lunch break.
Sitting up in bed, with the clock already reading past midnight, Graeden finished up the last few patient files he needed to get done for the day. He blinked at his tablet, yawning as he wrote a few final notes, and finally tossed the tablet aside. He put out the lights and slid down under the sheets, counting down the hours until he could return to apartment 607, and drifted off to sleep with a smile on his face.
When his alarm went off the next morning, he grumbled and dragged himself out of bed, yawning his way through breakfast and shuffling around his apartment as he got ready for the day. He checked his schedule and noted no planned surgeries, but there were several new patients he would have to meet and go through all the tedious preliminary exams and paperwork, which would likely mean another late night.
But the two hour break in the middle of the day would be worth it.
Tired, but smiling at that thought, Graeden headed down to his office and dove right into work.
* * *
WHEN HE caught a short break between appointments in the afternoon, Graeden hurried back to his office and tried to squeeze in some paperwork before his afternoon rounds began. Still buoyed by his lunch visit, he dove into his work with a smile on his face.
Graeden closed one file and went to open another when he saw an icon blinking on his screen, showing he had an incoming call. He ignored it and turned to the next file on his list, trying to make sense of a blood panel that had just come through from the lab.
The icon blinked again, and Graeden shoved it aside, grumbling to himself as he tried to focus.
A few seconds later, there was an insistent knock at his d
oor.
“Dr. Crawford?”
Graeden looked up, saw the secretary leaning in through the doorway, and looked back down at his files.
“I'm busy,” he said, reaching over for his tablet to sync up notes he'd made during his morning rounds.
“But you have a call–”
“I'm not to be disturbed.”
“Right, you said not to disturb you unless it was Nurse Mari calling–”
Graeden dropped his tablet and looked up.
“–and it's Nurse Mari calling.”
Graeden held his breath for a moment, then nodded.
“Put her right through. And secure the line, please.”
“Yes, Dr. Crawford.”
The secretary disappeared, and Graeden waited for the icon to flash red, showing the call had been patched through on a secure line. Graeden took a deep breath and touched the icon, bringing up a video feed, showing Nurse Mari in her office.
“Sorry to disturb you, Dr. Crawford,” she murmured.
Graeden shook his head, trying to ignore the sudden panic that filled his chest. “What is it?”
The nurse hesitated, then reached over to pick up a digital chart. “Your patient. Lorel Suleta. I'm sorry, Dr. Crawford, I'm afraid she–”
She cut off, and Graeden clenched his hands into fists, holding his breath.
“Yes?” he ground out.
“She passed away. Just now. I'm very sorry. Dr. Crawford?”
Graeden stared at the screen, his heart racing. Speaking slowly and evenly, he asked, “Has she been moved to the morgue yet?”
“No. I thought I'd tell you first.”
Graeden shoved his chair back.
“Don't let them take her until I get there.”
He jammed his finger on the icon to end the call and secured his desk, rushing from the room. Ignoring the eyes on him as he raced past the secretary's desk, he caught the elevator just as the doors were sliding shut and slipped inside, slamming his fist against the button for the second floor.
The door opened again a moment later, and Graeden started to race across the hall, then lurched to a stop as he reached the door. His hand hovered over the door handle as he hesitated, and after a deep breath he finally managed to let himself in.
Nurse Mari was bent over the third bed down the right hand side of the room, entering data on the digital chart for the body that lay there, covered with a sheet.
“Doctor–”
Graeden held up a hand, and the woman fell silent.
“May I…May I have a moment, please?”
The nurse nodded and went to the other side of the room, checking other patients while Graeden stared down at the white sheet. Moving slowly, he lifted it back and uncovered Lorel's face, then held his breath as he pressed two fingers to her throat.
He waited—several seconds longer than was necessary—but felt no pulse. Moving his hand over her mouth, he felt no air, and saw no rise and fall of the chest. The breath he was holding came out in a whoosh as he ran his hand down her face, closing her eyes, and tossed the sheet back over her.
He turned away from the bed and saw Nurse Mari quietly greeting two morgue technicians. The nurse gave him a questioning look, and he nodded at her, hurrying from the room while the techs went about their work.
Graeden came to a stop in the hallway, hands on his hips and panting while he tried to get his mind in order. He looked to his left and his right, forgetting for a moment where he was, and started moving again before he realized he'd made a decision.
He rode the elevator back up to the office level and strode right past his own room, ignoring secretaries and other doctors as he headed straight for the hospital owner's office.
Bokin started as Graeden barged right into the room.
“Tanas,” he said breathlessly. “I'll go to Tanas.”
Bokin set aside the report he was working on and looked up at Graeden with concern.
“Are you sure about this? What changed your mind?”
Graeden looked around, panting, and turned on his heel. “Just tell me when we leave.”
With that, he rushed out of the office, told the secretary to have someone take over his afternoon rounds, and hurried down to the parking garage. He got in his car, switched it to manual drive mode, and tore out onto the street, needing to simply be at speed while his mind caught up with reality.
* * *
GRAEDEN HAD to meditate himself into a focused state of mind when he woke the next morning, his thoughts still too full of the death of his patient and his sudden need to get away. He went through his routine, forcing himself to slow down and do everything properly when, all the while, all he wanted to do was run.
When his lunch break arrived, Graeden threw caution to the wind and practically sprinted to Mrs. Newar's apartment, not taking care to pick a different route or to keep his head down as he went.
Mrs. Newar opened the door almost as soon as he knocked, and let him inside with a smile.
“How are you, Dr. Crawford?” she asked.
Graeden took a deep breath and looked around, hesitating as Mrs. Newar shut the door behind him.
“You can go on in if–”
“Mrs. Newar, I need to speak with you.”
“Of course,” she said, guiding him into the living room and waiting patiently while he paced.
Graeden moved from one end of the room to the other several times, trying to find the words, and finally threw himself into a chair and hung his head, clenching his hands into fists.
“I need to get away, if at all possible,” he began, and looked up slowly at Mrs. Newar. “I need– Something has come up, and–”
He cut off and looked away, then took a deep breath and glanced over at her again. Mrs. Newar nodded knowingly and reached out to pat him on the hand.
“I think I know what this is about,” she said. “Don't you worry about a thing. Take whatever time you need.”
“I may be gone a few months,” he said slowly.
“That's alright. I'll make it work.”
“Your payments will continue, of course. I'll see to that. I just–”
“Graeden.” She reached out and took his hands between her own. “It's obvious you're not in the right state of mind for this right now. You go do whatever you need to do, and when you're ready, you come on back and things will go on just as they always have.”
Graeden looked down at their hands and took a deep breath. “Will they?”
Mrs. Newar nodded. “Everything will be just fine. You'll see. Now–” She let go of his hands and stood up. “Do you want to go on back?”
Graeden slowly rose and glanced down the hallway at a closed bedroom door.
“Gods, I don't think I can right now,” he whispered.
“Alright, that's fine,” Mrs. Newar said, patting him on the shoulder. “Why don't you go on home and try to relax?”
Graeden nodded absently and headed for the front door, glancing back over his shoulder at the bedroom. Clenching his jaw, he stepped out into the hallway and paused.
“Mrs. Newar?”
“Yes, Dr. Crawford?”
“Thank you.”
She gave him a smiling nod and closed the door, and Graeden had to take a few deep breaths before he could make his feet move.
* * *
ON SOLDAY morning, once the maid had gone, Graeden raced downstairs and got in his car, driving across town to his parents' apartment. He still hadn't been able to make himself return to Mrs. Newar's, and decided it was probably best to leave that for when he returned from Tanas, the time away giving him a chance to clear his mind so he could finally move on with his life.
Graeden knocked on the door to his parents' apartment and held his breath. A few seconds later, his father opened the door, and Graeden flinched, certain that his guilt would be easy to read.
“Grae!” Charlie Crawford pulled his son into a firm embrace and thumped him on the back. “This is a surprise. Come in! Come in. Your
mother will be shocked to see you here.”
Graeden stepped inside and followed his father to the kitchen, where his mother was busy making Solday brunch.
“Graeden!” she gasped, tossing aside her oven mitts and giving him a hug. “What brings you here? How are you? Is everything alright?”
“Sit down, have some coffee,” his father offered, steering him toward a bar stool at the kitchen counter. “Breakfast?”
Graeden pressed a hand to his belly and shook his head. “No, thank you.”
“Not feeling well?” his mother asked, then paused to scrutinize his face. “What's wrong?”
Both detectives looked at him in studious silence, and Graeden felt a blush of guilt creep over his skin.
“I'm fine,” he muttered. “Just…a lot on my mind. I can't stay long. I just needed to come tell you something.”
His mother shut off a burner and looked at him expectantly.
Just say it, he thought. Just tell them everything.
Graeden opened his mouth, hesitated, and looked out the window.
“Sweetie? What's wrong?”
“Son, if you're in some kind of trouble–”
“Dad, please…don't play detective with me right now,” Graeden said, holding out a hand. “Please? I just…” He paused and sighed. “I'm sorry. I have so much to tell you, but now really isn't the time. I just came here to say that I'll be gone for a few months.”
“Gone? Gone where?”
Graeden took a deep breath. “Tanas.”
“Tanas?” His father laughed. “In the gods' names, why?”
“They're asking for medical assistance,” Graeden said, and shrugged. “It might be interesting to study the people there.”
His mother raised an eyebrow and stared at him for a moment. “You don't sound very convincing. What's really going on here, Grae?”
“Nothing!” he said, throwing his hands up. “I just need to get away for a little while, alright?”
His parents stared at him, not saying a word.
Graeden sighed again. “I'm sorry. Gods, I–” He slammed a fist on the counter. “I'm sorry. I've just…I've got a few things going on, and I need to get away, clear my head, figure some things out. I'll only be gone for about five months. That's all the Tanasian government has allowed us right now. And then I'll tell you everything when I get back. I promise. I just…I can't right now.”
