by G. R. Lyons
“Grae!”
Graeden looked up and saw Jase rush toward him, his hair a mess and his eyes bloodshot.
“You guys alright?” Graeden asked.
“We're all fine,” Jase said in a rush. “We're here, helping. Gods, Grae, there's just so many.” He looked down at Zhadeyn, lying limp in his arms. “Oh, shit.”
“She was coughing up blood,” Graeden said.
Jase nodded. “A lot of them are. Come on. Bring her in here.”
Graeden followed him, wading through the crowd to a room stuffed with beds, and lay Zhadeyn down on one of the last unoccupied ones. All around him, people were crying, moaning, coughing, or screaming while more people kept coming in.
“What do they normally use to treat this?” Graeden asked, raising his voice above the noise as he rolled up his sleeves and snapped on a pair of gloves.
“They don't,” Jase called back, helping one man ease over onto his side while he coughed violently.
“What do you mean, they don't?”
“Keisen said they've never bothered to study it,” Leni called from across the room.
“And they've apparently never had an outbreak this bad before,” Quinn added from several beds away. “They forgot to sound the sirens when the boilers quit this time.”
“Dr. Graeden,” a nurse said, running toward him with a clipboard in hand and pointing at Zhadeyn, “you'll need to have her fill this out before we can–”
“Don't even start,” Graeden yelled, holding up a hand toward her. “We're busy.”
“But, Doctor, the paperwork–”
“Fuck your paperwork! People are dying here!”
He turned his back on her and went to check on another patient, drawing blood to have tested and mentally noting symptoms before he moved on to the next man, trying to visibly identify which people were worse off. Some were pale, weak, and trembling, while others were sweating and convulsive, and still others had shirts covered in blood as the coughing continued.
They worked all night, running from emergency to emergency, trying to pinpoint exactly what they were dealing with in order to find the right treatment. As the hours passed, a few who had swallowed mouthfuls of the contaminated water coughed their way toward a quick death, and those who'd had less contact looked to be well on their way to suffering the same fate.
By the time the suns were coming up in the distance, the hospital staff were bleary-eyed and exhausted, but no closer to a solution.
And still people died.
“Where are my lab results?” one doctor shouted at a passing nurse.
“Why isn't the sample back yet?” another called out.
“I asked for more vials almost three hours ago!”
“Why haven't the IVs been approved yet?”
On and on the shouting went as doctors tried to help the dying while hemmed in by backlogged lab work, medication restrictions, and other red tape.
In the midst of it all, Graeden swung a stool over by Zhadeyn's bed and sank onto it.
“Deyn, look at me,” he pleaded, taking her hand.
She blinked weakly and turned her head to look at him, her pillow and wrap both stained a pinkish red and her skin turning more pale.
“I…” He shook his head and squeezed her hand. “I don't know what to do.”
“You'll find something,” she whispered, and pressed a rag to her mouth as she coughed again. Blood colored her chin and teeth as she tried to take in a rattling breath.
Graeden held her hand to his chest and ran his other hand through her hair, leaning down close to her.
“I can't lose you,” he whispered. “But I can't figure this out. The lab is backlogged and the administration is holding everything up because of their damned protocols. I can't find a solution if I can't see where I'm–”
He cut off and slowly sat up, his eyes moving rapidly as he thought. “Deyn, honey?”
She forced her eyes open and looked at him.
“Show me,” he said in a rush. “You can do that, right? Can you lead me down, show me what this thing is doing to you?”
She blinked a few times, breathing heavily as she tried to keep her eyes open, and whispered, “I think so.”
“Please,” he begged. “I need your help. If you have the strength.”
Zhadeyn nodded weakly and closed her eyes, and Graeden felt when she opened her mind fully to him, leading the way deep into her brain.
Graeden closed his eyes and clung to her hand, focusing on keeping close to her while he followed her down to the deepest parts of her mind, allowing them to move along veins and nerves, able to see individual cells as though they were the size of grapes.
Hold on, he urged her. Just a little while longer. And then you can rest.
He felt her nod mentally and continued down with her, racing along with the flow of blood and the firing of nerve endings until she suddenly came to a stop, cringing at the sight of something deformed and grasping as it wrapped itself around a blood cell and tore it apart.
“Graeden.”
He flinched as he was pulled back from Zhadeyn's mind, and separated himself just enough to raise his free hand and tell Jase, “Not now.”
“Grae, you can't just sit here. We need your help.”
“Just a minute,” Graeden said, trying to navigate his way back in.
“Grae–”
Fully ripped out of Zhadeyn's mind, Graeden opened his eyes and whirled on Jase.
“I'm trying to find a solution, alright?” he snapped. “I just need another minute.”
“Grae, we've got people dying, and Zevic's here now, throwing a fit, and–”
“Well, tell him to wait! If I can see what's going on, we might be able to find a cure.”
Jase reared back, giving him a strange look. “What are you talking about?”
“She's showing me the bacteria,” he said, turning back to his wife. “I'll explain later.”
Graeden closed his eyes and focused his mind on Zhadeyn, diving back down into her cellular makeup until he found her consciousness focused near the bacteria again. He watched as it moved, spreading slowly throughout her body, and the moment he drew himself out of her mind, he saw her collapse in exhaustion, her eyes closed and her chest barely rising.
Graeden launched off the stool so fast that it overturned behind him, and he caught the sight of Jase rushing after him as he hurried out the door. They squeezed past doctors and patients alike until they reached the stockroom, pushing people out of the way to get to the medicine shelves.
Graeden scanned the labels, moving down one aisle after another, until he found what he was looking for.
“This,” he said with relief, running to the end of the room for a tray and grabbing as many bottles as he could find. “We'll have to hurry, sort out patients by condition–”
“What is going on in here?”
Graeden froze, took a breath, and turned to see Zevic strolling toward them.
“Dr. Graeden?”
“I don't have time for this,” Graeden muttered, turning back to the shelf and loading up the tray with bottles, Jase following behind him and gathering as many sterile packages of needles as he could get his hands on.
“Are you authorized to administer that drug?” Zevic asked.
Graeden ignored him and hurried out of the room with Jase right on his heels, others following them as they returned to the crowded exam room. Graeden shoved aside a stack of files on the counter and carefully set down the tray while Jase ripped open the first syringe and grabbed a bottle.
“Dr. Graeden!” Zevic shouted. “Dr. Jase, stop right there! You do not have permission to–”
His words cut off with a choke as Graeden slammed him back against the wall and clamped a hand around his throat.
“If you say one more word, one more,” Graeden shouted, “so help me, I will render you unconscious.”
He shoved the bureaucrat aside and snatched up another syringe, heading straight for Zhadeyn.
>
“Dr. Graeden,” Zevic growled, grabbing his arm.
Graeden shoved him back and pointed at two nurses.
“Restrain him!” he barked, and the dumbfounded nurses hurried to obey.
“You can't do this!” Zevic yelled.
Graeden ignored him, drawing solution out of a bottle, purging the syringe of air, and gently pressing the needle into Zhadeyn's arm. He tossed the needle aside and took her hand again.
Deyn? Honey? Are you awake?
She moaned and blinked sleepily, trying to force her eyes open to look at him.
One more time, he murmured inwardly. I need you to show me if this will work.
She nodded weakly and let him in again, trembling as she used the last of her strength to lead him back down within herself.
Graeden held his breath, squeezing his eyes shut as he concentrated, trying to drown out the noise around him. He watched as the medicine slowly made its way through her body, seeking out the bacteria and helping her body fight against it.
The wait was agonizing, until he finally saw the solution take effect.
“Ha! It's working!”
He drew himself out and pressed a kiss to Zhadeyn's forehead.
Tell me if anything changes, he urged her, and felt her answering inward nod as he got up and went to the next patient.
Zevic continued shouting complaints at them, but the doctors ignored him, even the Tanasian staff following the Agori doctors as they worked to try saving the men, women, and children crowding the hospital. Hours passed in a blur as they went from patient to patient, administering treatment, cleaning up blood, and changing sweat-drenched sheets.
Deyn? Graeden asked, stopping by her bedside between patients.
It's helping, she said, but even her inner voice still sounded weak.
Show me.
He took her hand and turned his mind toward hers, following her inward until he could observe the progress. It was slow but persistent, as little by little the bacteria was overpowered and driven from her body.
I can replicate it…a little, she told him. The others might be able to try that.
Do you need anything?
Food, she gasped. I'm starving.
Try to rest, he said, brushing her hair back from her forehead. I'll be right back.
He ran out into the corridor, ordering food to be brought to those who had the strength to eat, then hurried back to the stock room, grabbing every available vial of liquid nutrients he could find.
There wasn't much, so he took them all, cradling them in his hands as he hurried back to the main exam room.
“Here,” he said, handing vials to different doctors. “Just for the ones who can't physically feed themselves.”
He took the last vial over to Zhadeyn, opened a fresh syringe, and injected a small dose into her arm.
Tell me if that's enough, he said.
She was still and silent for a long moment, until her eyelids fluttered and she managed to breathe a sigh.
Gods, that's wonderful. Thank you. That helps.
Stay with me, he urged, squeezing her hand and moving on to the next patient.
As the afternoon wore on, three more people died, but as the suns began to set, the chaos in the hospital faded as the patients all slowly began to recover.
“Gods, you did it,” Jase said, sinking down beside Graeden where he sat on the floor, thoroughly exhausted. “You're going to have to teach me that trick.” He let out an enormous yawn and shook his head. “Maybe tomorrow,” he muttered, his head dropping to one side.
Quinn and Leni came over and sat down beside them, eyelids drooping and limbs shaking from having been on their feet for two days.
Dr. Keisen came over and patted Graeden on the shoulder with one hand while covering a yawn with the other, and left the room to check on patients in the hallway.
Graeden's chin hit his chest and he started, forcing his eyes open and taking a deep breath. Exhaustion pulled him down again, and he thought a brief nap might not be such a bad thing.
Graeden?
“What? Yes, I'm up,” he gasped, blinking as he looked around. Quinn gave him a curious look and closed his eyes again.
Graeden?
He jumped up and went to Zhadeyn's bed, sighing with relief to see her eyes open.
How do you feel? he asked.
Better. It's going to take more time to finish, but I can breathe now.
Do you need anything?
No, I just wanted to make sure you were alright.
He nodded. I'm fine.
She reached a shaky hand toward his face and touched her fingertips to his cheek.
You're exhausted.
I've been through worse.
Graeden–
Hey, I'm not the one who was dying here, he said with a smile. You get some rest and don't worry about me, alright?
She let out a sigh and gave him a weak smile.
I'm your wife. I'm supposed to worry about you. That's my j–
“You…have a lot of explaining to do.”
Graeden narrowed his eyes and turned around, a fresh boost of energy surging through him as he saw Zevic approach with his hands in fists. All around the room, patients and doctors were ripped out of sleep by the bureaucrat's voice, and looked on in bleary-eyed awe as the two men came nose-to-nose and glared at one another.
“Twenty-seven patients without files opened,” Zevic began, waving a sheet of paper at him. “Twenty-seven! And that's just what I've found so far. How many more have you all treated here tonight without proper documentation?”
Graeden shrugged. “I have no idea. It wasn't exactly a priority.”
“It's always a priority!” Zevic shouted. “Do you know what a mess we have on our hands now? What work it will take to track down and document everything that happened?”
“And why does it matter?” Graeden countered, leaning toward Zevic until the man took a step back. “Look around you. These people are all going to live. What else could possibly matter?”
“Matter? Matter?” Zevic waved his arms and turned around. “You've all gone outside the law! You've broken protocol, ignored procedure, administered drugs without proper authorization. Where are the files to track what you've done? Where are the requisition forms? The stamped permissions for the use of medications? What if you'd killed someone?”
Graeden raised an eyebrow and held out his arms to either side. “Rather pointless question, don't you think, when we've managed to save all these people's lives!”
Zevic strode toward him, shaking a finger. “Oh, the Elders will hear of this. Mark my words, you will pay for what you've done here.”
With that, Zevic turned on his heel and stormed toward the door.
“If doing my job is a crime and saving people's lives is not worthy,” Graeden shouted after him, making the man stop and turn around, “then fine! Punish me. Throw me in prison. Do whatever your gods-damned, nonsensical laws prescribe. But don't you dare think for one minute that I'm going to give a damn about your precious paperwork when a human life is on the line–”
“Dr. Graeden–”
“So go ahead. Throw me in prison. Then the next time this happens, you can watch your entire population whither and die, leaving you and the Elders alone to starve, because gods know you're incapable of actually providing for yourselves. Much easier to prey off the backs of the people while you fill their heads with silly propaganda to keep them convinced they're free. If you really think having us all follow procedure last night and letting people suffer and die was the right thing to do, then you can go fuck yourself.”
“Well, I–” Zevic began to shout, then stopped and gave him a puzzled look. “What?”
Across the room, Graeden saw Jase and the others shake with silent laughter.
“What does that even mean?” Zevic asked, looking thoroughly confused. “That's not physically possible, and besides, what's that got to do with–”
“It's just a saying,” Graeden
said, rolling his eyes, and he strode slowly toward Zevic, leveling a look at him. “And right now, it means get the hells out of my sight, or so help me…”
He raised his fist, and Zevic scrambled out of the room.
Chapter 22
AFTER A few hours of rest, and despite Graeden's outburst, the Tanasian staff got up in the early hours of the next morning and began the arduous task of going patient by patient, pulling their existing files from Records if there were any, or starting new files if there weren't. Outwardly, they complained about trying to recreate each patient's case in order for it to be written down, and with the chaos of so many suffering and with doctors running from patient to patient as needed rather than being assigned to a dedicated list, it was all they could do to properly document each person's particular symptoms, treatment, and time spent in the hospital.
In passing and in whispers, however, each doctor quietly thanked Graeden and his friends for doing what was necessary to save people's lives.
While the Tanasian staff worked on files, arguing over which doctor should sign each report, Graeden and his fellow Agori made rounds, checking on the patients' progress and administering what little remained of liquid nutrients as needed, or ordering food brought in for those who had recovered enough to sit up and feed themselves.
In the midst of it all, Zevic walked back into the room, looking eerily calm, and slapped a clipboard against Graeden's chest.
Graeden took it and asked, “What's this?”
“You can go outside and identify the dead,” Zevic ordered, “so we'll know which files to pull.”
“And how precisely am I supposed to do that?”
“Figure it out, Doctor,” Zevic sneered, then turned on his heel and left the room.
Graeden sighed and looked down at the clipboard. Pinned to it was a form with several blank lines and headings for name, age, date of death, and check boxes to confirm a patient file had been found and pulled from storage. Sighing again, Graeden weaved his way through the maze-like hospital to the exit, then circled the building until he came to a rear entrance, next to which was a row of bodies.
