by G. R. Lyons
Zhadeyn nodded. “It's tricky, getting past the guards, and with you not in uniform…”
“I stand out,” he finished, and she nodded again.
“It would be hard to describe how to get there, anyway. I always took a different route to make sure I wasn't being followed.”
Graeden started, his hand tightening around hers.
“Wha–” she started to ask, looking up at him. “Oh. That's right. You did that, too.”
Graeden took a deep breath and sighed. “Sorry. The more time that goes by, the more I want to go home and start over.” He shook his head and sighed again. “I'm sorry, you were saying?”
She gave his hand a squeeze and went on: “It's in an older part of the city, where they still haven't rebuilt the apartments that were destroyed in the last Collision. It's almost as far as the river, but I'm not sure I could describe precisely which building the garden is behind without showing you.”
Graeden nodded to himself, cleared his throat, and asked, “River?”
“The Pascatin,” Zhadeyn clarified. “It runs from the north, down most of the Isle, they say. Vhais used to span both sides of the river, but the bridge fell in the last Collision and they haven't rebuilt it yet. I heard someone say it's a five-days' journey down to the next bridge and back up to the other side.”
“What about boats?”
Zhadeyn propped herself up on an elbow. “Boats?”
“Yeah, for…Wait, you don't have boats?”
“I don't know this word.”
Graeden whistled. “No wonder you have no fishing industry.”
“Fishing?”
“Fish. Creatures that live in the water. The oceans are full of them. But if you have no boats…” He trailed off, thinking of what his grandfather had told him about reaching Sonekha, and murmured to himself, “We'll have to walk it.”
“Walk it?”
Graeden shook his head and gave her a smile. “Nothing. Don't mind me. Just thinking out loud.” He cleared his throat and asked, “So, where is the river from here?”
“To the east. I've heard it, but never gotten close enough to see it. Some of the roads that way are completely blocked with debris from collapsed buildings.”
“Wait, you said the last Collision was eleven years ago? When it snowed?” Zhadeyn nodded. “And they haven't cleared the debris yet?”
She shrugged. “There wasn't a need. We lost so many people that we were left with vacant apartments. That's how I got to live here, alone. They never used to allow that before. But, since my father wouldn't take me back, and…”
She trailed off, so Graeden took her hand and asked, “What is it?”
Zhadeyn looked away, going tense in his arms as she said, “I was supposed to be married that day, but the Collision killed him.” She shivered. “Gods, it was so cold.”
“What happened?”
Graeden shifted aside so Zhadeyn had to move her head to the pillow, and he turned to face her while she looked down at their hands clasped between them.
“My father came home from work,” she said, “and told me to follow him. It was dark and snowing heavily outside, but he didn't even give me a chance to grab a shawl or anything. I was running to keep up while he walked across town, not saying a word to me, and I didn't dare ask where we were going.
“We reached another apartment, and my father knocked on the door. A man answered and gestured for me to go inside. My father pushed me when I hesitated, and he left without a word. The man closed the door, grabbed me by the arm, and hauled me back to the bedroom.”
She paused, shivering, so Graeden tucked the sheets around her and held her hands to his chest.
“It was so cold,” she whispered. “The air. The floor. His hands. He started tearing my wrap off me, yelling at me when I struggled against him. I didn't understand what was going on.”
“How old were you?”
“Fifteen. I'd just had my first mooncycle, and my mother told me that meant it would be 'time' soon, but she didn't explain what that meant.”
She squeezed her eyes shut and clung to his hands.
“So what happened?” he asked.
“He got my wrap off and threw it aside, then set a knife on the bed before he grabbed for my skirt. And then the ground started shaking.”
Graeden saw the scene as she let it slip from her mind: a stark apartment, like any other on the Isle, with a man in dust grey coming toward her and then freezing in fear as the ground shook and the ceiling began to crack.
The cracks spread, the walls crumbling apart while the ceiling fell in, and the man screamed as he was crushed beneath a pile of debris.
Viewing the scene from Zhadeyn's point of view, Graeden found himself looking up from the floor, seeing snow drift into the destroyed apartment, and when Zhadeyn looked to her left side, her arm was pinned beneath a chunk of concrete, blood seeping from beneath the debris and bone visible where her arm was broken and had punctured through her skin.
Just as Graeden started to vicariously feel her pain from that memory, Zhadeyn shook herself and stopped the projection, shifting closer to him as she trembled.
“How long were you there before someone got you out?” he asked.
Zhadeyn shook her head. “They didn't get me out.”
“What?”
“Some people found me, hours later, but they left me there,” she said. “They tried to lift the debris, but it was too heavy, so they said the only way to get me out was to cut off my arm. But, a woman without an arm…How can she cook and clean and please her husband? So they just left me and went to find other survivors.”
Graeden stared at her, at a loss for words, then looked at her left arm, fully intact and functional, with only a faint scar just below her elbow.
“So how did you get out?”
Zhadeyn looked at him with a grimace. “The Collision had knocked the knife off the bed, just within my reach. They said the only way to get me out was to cut off my arm…so I did.”
Graeden reared back and blinked dumbly at her.
“Come again?”
She took a deep breath and projected the memory to him, showing her shivering in the cold and crying as she lined up the knife with the gash in her arm where the bone had penetrated and cut the rest of the way through until she was free.
“Gods,” Graeden breathed, swallowing heavily. “I've seen a lot of nasty wounds in my time, but…” He paused and swallowed again. “I think I'm going to be sick.”
He took a few deep breaths, trying to shake aside the image of what she'd done, then opened his eyes and looked pointedly at her arm and back at her face.
“I regenerated it,” she explained. “I had to. I would have starved to death if I hadn't.”
Graeden sat up and looked down at her.
“I'm sorry, hold on,” he said, rubbing his eyes and looking at her again. “You did what?”
Zhadeyn sat up, tucking the sheet around her chest, and held out her left arm, pointing at the scar. “It took me almost three days, because I'd never tried anything like that before. It was only a rumor, but I had to try.”
Graeden grabbed her arm, pressing against skin, bone, and muscle as he examined the fully intact limb.
“How is that possible?” he breathed.
“The mind knows,” she said. “It's just a matter of going deep within the mind, seeing the makeup of your body, and forcing new elements to form.”
“Cells.”
“What?”
“They're called cells,” he said absently, still examining her arm. “I've never known anything like this to be possible. I…I'm sorry, but I'm having trouble believing it. None of our genetic research has shown any indication that the human body is capable of such a thing.”
Zhadeyn looked at him, took a deep breath, and hopped out of bed, wrapping a towel around herself.
“Where are you going?”
“I'll show you,” she said, and left the room.
Graeden jump
ed up, pulled on a pair of flannel pants, and followed her out to the kitchen.
She walked to the counter and pulled out a knife.
“Seven be praised,” Graeden cried, flinching back and holding out his hands.
“Oh, sorry,” she murmured, setting down the knife. “I forgot. I'm sorry, I should have warned you.”
“What…exactly…are you doing?” he asked, trying to catch his breath and force the memories aside.
“I want to show you, so you can see it for yourself.”
Graeden opened his eyes and took a step back. “Show me what?”
“Regeneration.”
She rested her left index finger on the counter and gestured at the knife with her other hand.
“No,” Graeden said. “Gods, no. I'll take your word for it.”
“But you don't believe me.”
“You're right, I don't, but…” He spun around, sucked in a breath, and turned back to face her, professional curiosity warring with professional ethics. “I can't watch this. Not after–” He took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You're sure you can do this?”
“Absolutely.”
Graeden looked up at the ceiling and shook his head. “Gods be damned. I can't believe I'm going to say this.” He paused and huffed out a breath. “Alright.”
He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to keep the memories at bay while he heard the hiss of the knife sliding across the counter as Zhadeyn picked it up, then only the sound of her taking a few deep breaths before the silence was broken by the thud of the knife coming down.
“Aaah, gods,” she choked, the knife clattering into the sink as she sucked in a breath, held it, and groaned again.
Graeden took a deep breath and opened his eyes, seeing the first joint of her index finger missing, blood leaking into the sink as she bent over, cradling her hand.
She cried out again, squeezing her eyes shut, and alternately gasped and held her breath as a look of pained concentration came over her face. Graeden looked from her face to her finger and back several times, hesitating as he reached toward her, wanting to do something.
“Gods,” she gasped, then sucked in another breath, and gasped again. “Alright, watch.”
Graeden tore his eyes away from her pained face and looked at her hand, narrowing his eyes as he waited, and after a few seconds passed, he saw bone slowly reappear.
His jaw fell as he stared, not quite believing his eyes as muscle regenerated, skin regrew, and a nail reformed, until her finger was once again whole. The only evidence that remained was the blood on the counter and the tip of the finger resting in the bottom of the sink.
Graeden snatched up her hand and pulled it close, feeling it and looking at it from every angle.
“That's…” He blinked, studying it again. “That's incredible.” He looked at her, agape, and shook himself. “I'm sorry, are you alright?”
She nodded, looking weary. “The regeneration is actually more painful than the injury,” she said, still catching her breath, “but yes, I'm fine now.”
Graeden glanced into the sink again, then at her finger, then back at her face.
“Gods, do you know what we could do with this?” he said, still staring in awe. “If we could utilize this…Gods, the possibilities…” His mind ran over several of his patients back home—those who'd had limbs amputated or defective organs removed—and shook his head in amazement. “Could you do this for someone else, do you think? Or teach someone else to do it?”
Zhadeyn thought for a moment, then said, “For the Agori, probably not. Their minds are too secure. Another Tanasian, certainly.”
“What about Andrians? Ceynesians? Or even someone like me with mixed blood?”
“I…I really don't know. It would depend on how easily their minds could be accessed. You, though…It's possible, but probably difficult. Your mind is accessible, and you are learning some internal control, but I'm not sure you could be opened enough to access that deep.”
Graeden looked down at the knife in the sink, his mind buzzing with possibilities, and Zhadeyn pushed him aside, putting herself between the sink and him.
“Don't worry, I'm not going to try it myself,” he said with a laugh, holding up his hands. “I need these a little too much to risk an experiment like that.”
Zhadeyn took his hands and pressed them between her own, holding them to her chest. She kissed the backs of his fingers, then stretched up to kiss his lips while he slipped his hands free and circled his arms around her.
“Do me a favor,” he whispered.
“What's that?”
“Don't ever do anything like that again.”
She laughed. “Gladly.”
Zhadeyn sent him back to bed so she could clean up the mess, and Graeden lay awake in the dark, dreaming of the potential of the human body.
Chapter 21
GRAEDEN WOKE the next morning with a dozen experiments in his mind, all sorts of applications of cell regeneration just waiting to be tested, but as soon as he reached the hospital and got bogged down in the usual daily bureaucratic nonsense, he knew those dreams would have to be put on hold for the time being.
At least it would give him something to look forward to when he got back to Agoran. All sorts of tests he could run, and if they were successful, all sorts of patients who could be given a better quality of life than they would have otherwise received from medicine alone.
He listened to Leni's countdown each day, glad to always be one day closer to going home, to having the freedom to pursue such ideas.
And all the while, as the days went by, he had the pleasure of seeing Zhadeyn open up to him even more.
Graeden got home from work one night and sent out a mental greeting to her, grinning over how effortless it had become. In return, she sent him a quick flash of an image of herself in the shower, and an unspoken beckoning for him to join her.
He tossed aside his bag with a grin and started undressing as he made his way down the hall, leaving his clothes scattered across the apartment as he went.
Zhadeyn turned around and pulled Graeden into an embrace as he stepped into the shower, kissing him deeply as she told him, Welcome home.
Mmmm, hello, wife, he replied, looking down at her with a smile. How was your day?
Dull, she said. I got all the washing done and had nothing left to do.
You miss working, don't you?
She nodded. I miss…feeling like I had a purpose. Not that keeping house for you isn't worthwhile, she hurried to add. I just…I wish there was something more I could do.
Well, he began, kissing her again, you'll have all sorts of options once we go back to Agoran.
Shhh, she said, pulling his hands to her body, and Graeden gladly complied.
He turned and shoved her up against the wall, kissing her deeply as his hands slipped over her wet skin. She gasped out a moan and he pressed closer, hooking one arm around her waist while he groped her breasts with the other hand.
Graeden kissed down the length of her neck, her sighs audible over the spray of hot water beside them, and reached down to cup his hand behind her knee.
Zhadeyn went still, holding her breath.
“What?” he panted. “What's wrong?”
She turned her head, a searching look on her face, and without warning, she shoved him out of the shower.
Graeden stumbled and fell onto his backside, the shower curtain tearing as he grabbed it. He saw Zhadeyn slam down the water valve to shut it off, then she ripped a towel off the rack and threw herself down beside him, drying him vigorously.
“Deyn, honey,” he complained, trying to push her away. “What in seven hells is going on?”
“Did you swallow any?” she asked breathlessly, continuing her efforts to dry him.
“What?”
“Did you swallow any water?”
“I…don't think so. Deyn, what's wrong?”
She pointed at the tub. “Spit.”
<
br /> “You're not serious.”
“Please,” she begged.
Graeden rolled his eyes and got up on his knees, spitting into the tub, then held still while she finished drying him before applying the towel to herself.
“Deyn,” he said, grabbing her hands to stop her. “What?”
“The boilers quit,” she said, panting. “I could sense it in the water.”
Graeden blinked at her. “You could tell that?”
She nodded and looked him over, then rubbed the towel over his hair again.
“Alright, I think you got it all,” he said, holding up his hands. “What about you? Are you alright?”
She wrapped the towel around her hair and twisted, crouched beside him on the cold concrete floor.
“I don't know. I had to get you out first.”
“Why?”
“Because you're a doctor. They'll need you.”
“It couldn't be that bad, could it?”
She looked up at him from under her eyelashes, worry lining her face, but didn't have an answer.
* * *
AT ZHADEYN'S suggestion, Graeden went to bed wearing day clothes, just in case the hospital sent for him in a hurry, and watched his wife as she fell asleep at his side. She'd turned pale in the hour that had passed since their abbreviated shower, but she insisted she just felt tired and went to bed early.
In the middle of the night, Graeden woke to the sound of her coughing violently.
“Deyn? Honey?” He got up and flicked on the light, then froze at the sight of a blood splatter on her pillow. “Gods, no.”
He rushed to her side and turned her toward him while she tried to catch her breath.
“Graeden…”
“Come on.” He slipped his arms underneath her and lifted her off the bed. “We're going to the hospital. Just hold on. It'll be alright.”
Graeden stepped into his shoes and headed straight outside in the dark, trying to navigate the streets by the sliver of Garis visible in the sky.
The closer he got to the hospital, the more crowded the streets became.
He came to a stop, glancing around in shock, as people of all ages shuffled, crawled, or were carried toward help.
When he reached the hospital, the entire facility was in chaos, sick people collapsing on the floor while doctors and nurses ran from room to room, shouting orders, wheeling beds, and squeezing through the crowds.
