She's Not Here

by Mandi Lynn

  Soon enough, the serum would make its way through her blood stream and into the nerve cells of her brain, stimulating the effects of Alzheimer’s. Willow would stand by, watching, observing, testing until she discovered how to reverse the effects and create an anti-venom that would cure the disease.

  Willow gasped for breath once the needle was pulled away from Samantha’s skin, a red speck the only sign the needle ever entered her body.

  Chapter 12

  She was searching the room in a frenzy. If she wasn’t digging through drawers, she was pacing. That was how Randy found her when he walked into their bedroom. Her hands reaching, her face searching.

  “Willow?”

  She stood up. Her arm was deep into the laundry basket, pulling out dirty clothes and throwing them across the floor. Where was the paper?

  “What are you looking for?” Randy said. He came up behind Willow and started picking up the clothes she had tossed.

  “Umm,” she said, shoving her hand into pockets of scrubs, waiting for her fingers to skim the worn paper. “Some papers.”

  “What kind of papers?” he asked, turning to leave the room and search.

  “Shit,” she whispered. She had started laundry when she got home and instead of grabbing all the laundry that was upstairs she started off with the load she had brought down a day earlier.

  Willow could hear the machine filling with water as she came into the basement. The door rattled against her grip as she tried to pull it open, but it was locked. “Dammit,” she said. She hit the button on the machine to turn it off. It continued to fill for afew seconds longer before it finally shut off and unlocked with a click.

  Her scrubs from that day were at the top—the bottom of the pant leg sticking up. When she pulled them up, they were half soaked but not fully, and thankfully enough, when she put her hands in the pocket she pulled out the folded piece of paper and there wasn’t a drop of water on it. Her messy script stared back at her. Everything she was terrified of forgetting was held close in her hand.

  “Willow?” Randy’s voice echoed into the basement.

  “Coming. I just wanted to grab one thing while I was thinking of it.” She met Randy at the top of the stairs, keeping the paper tucked in the palm of her hand. His brows were snitched, but he eyes never wandered from her face. She let a smile coat her lips, hoping to soothe any of his worry.

  Willow slipped past Randy to grab her wallet off the counter and the tucked the paper behind a credit card.

  Randy looked back at her just as the paper disappeared out of sight.

  “How was work?”

  The memory didn’t come until Randy wrapped his arms around her. She jumped when it happened. The face of the patient came into her mind, too vivid to be a dream. A motion of slipping a needle into the girl’s skin haunted her. Willow’s heart began its rapid beat as the realization of what she had done manifested.

  “Good,” Willow said. Her breath caught at the end of her sentence, and she pushed herself away from Randy.

  “Are you okay?” He let his arms drop, but his hands still reached out for her.

  “Just tired.” She turned her back to him. The urge to pace became immediate. “I think I’m going to head to bed early.”

  She kissed him on the cheek, the motion quick and fleeting. She let out a shuttering breath as she turned her back to him. Her face dropped once she was out of sight, and she prayed he didn’t follow her.

  “I’ll be up in a minute,” he said.

  She blocked out his words, but not by choice. Her vision shifted from the stairs, the hallway, her bedroom, to the hospital, a syringe, the arm of a girl fast asleep. What had she done?

  She collapsed into her bed. It was happening again—that familiar feeling of dread and panic all crashing together. Her throat closed and her head spun until her vision faded at the edges. She couldn’t place herself in the room; all she yearned for was Randy’s touch, but she was too ashamed of what she had done to let him find out.

  How did she forget what she had done? How could she forget poisoning a girl, injecting God-knows-what into her body, for what? A cure? The cure only comes once the disease has begun to play, and the girl would have to be victim to scientists, nothing but a lab rat. Not to mention the fact that to conduct these experiments, it wouldn’t be behind closed doors. There were vague memories of hope that she could find the cure on her own, but was it really possible?

  A choking sob threatened to suffocate her, but she pushed the emotions away when she heard Randy walking up the stairs.

  “Randy?” She was surprised at how composed her voice was.

  “Yeah?” He walked into the room and lay next to her on the bed. He folded her into his arms, her back against his chest. She was thankful he couldn’t see her face.

  What could she say? He’d done so much, given so much, and this is what she’d done. Samantha was his patient. Would Randy suffer the consequences of her actions? A knot formed in her stomach; she let a breath out.

  “I love you,” she said, and for a moment, she let herself be lifted away from the chaos. Maybe the serum had no effect on the girl. At least that’s what she told herself when Randy kissed the skin behind her ear.

  Her body didn’t shake when she thought of the girl. Willow let herself breathe easy, inhaling Randy’s scent, memorizing the feeling of her skin against his.

  She found herself in a trance, trying to remember the ingredients of the solution, their chemical compounds, their side-effects. Could this give the girl Alzheimer’s? Her stomach dropped at the thought, but there was the familiar electricity of an idea. When things begin to piece together like a puzzle, everything finally fitting in harmony, her panic was replaced with intrigue. She took a breath and spoke.

  “Did you read the article about the Venom Trials?”

  Randy looked over to her. “Like the one Dr. Gadel had been talking about?” She nodded. “I found the article, but I haven’t had a chance to read through it yet.”

  “I read it.” She paused, trying to judge the moment. Should she tell him? “It’s a medical trial that’s been going on in Europe.” Randy sat up, propping himself with his elbow and waited for her to say more. “It’s called the venom trials because they inject a serum into mice—it gives them symptoms like Alzheimer’s. The brain cells begin to deteriorate; their short-term memory begins to go.”

  “Huh,” he said. He frowned while he thought it over. “Do they think they can use it like venom? Like, when a snake bites you, you use the antivenom to stop the venom from continuing to affect the area. Is that what they’re doing?”

  Willow watched him. His brows furrowed, and he stared off into space, a crease forming above his eyebrows before he spoke again. “Venom is made up of protein, and so is the abnormal protein that is found in the brain of Alzheimer’s patients. They’re looking for the anti-protein then? Something to kill the protein that’s damaging the brain. Interesting.”

  “Do you think it’s something that has any value? Maybe they’re onto something that can reverse Alzheimer’s?” Willow asked. Her muscles were taunt, refusing to relax into the bed.

  “No. Even antivenom doesn’t reverse damage, it just neutralizes it. I imagine it would have to be administered continuously, because Alzheimer’s is not a toxin that enters the body once—it’s constantly present.”

  “But there has to be a way to reverse it,” she said, her voice rising in octave, and this time she could hear the hysteria starting. She took a moment to compose herself, breathing and letting her heart calm before she spoke again. She hoped Randy either didn’t notice the lift in her voice or was willing to let it slide. “There has to be something out there that’s still to be discovered.”

  Randy let out a sigh and relaxed into the bed again, pulling her to him as he did so. “There’s always something left to be discovered. No matter how much research is done, how many hours are spent in a lab, there will always be mystery of a disease: how it works, how it affects som
eone, how you cure it. There’s never a definite answer. You know that, Willow. You of all people know that.”

  “But there might be a way.” The frustration hung in her voice as she spoke. She didn’t realize her hand was in a fist until Randy reached around to unfurl her fingers.

  “There might be,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean we’ll find it, or those scientists in Europe will find it.” His voice was soft, pleading for Willow to let the subject drop.

  “You promised,” she said. She stared out across the room. A picture of her family was mounted on the wall. Her father looked back at her. “You promised you would do everything you could to find a cure, so something like this would never happen again.” Her body began to react before her mind could. Each muscle in her body clenched. Her emotions became something so strong it was physical. Her heartrate began to race again. The urge to run ran through her nerves, but she felt more rooted in place than ever.

  Randy rubbed his thumb across Willow’s hand. He was calm, she was chaos. They were two opposites colliding over and over. “My father died—” She was going to say more, but her voice dropped before she could finish.

  “I know I promised,” he whispered. Willow could hear the pain in Randy’s voice. “I’m trying, Willow. Believe me, I’m trying.”

  Willow shifted to face Randy. He refused to look at her, not because he didn’t love her, but because he loved her too much. He needed to be strong for her, but now he couldn’t be strong for himself.

  She let the room run quiet. For a long time, it was just the sound of the clock ticking in the corner that filled the room.

  “Randy?” she said. She turned her face up to him but his eyes were closed.

  “What are you thinking about?” he said, opening his eyes, and that’s when she knew things were okay, for whenever she was upset, he asked that simple question.

  “What if the Venom Trials used the serum on people? Maybe that’s why Dr. Gadel failed? They’ve only tested it on animals? The full anti-venom wasn’t tested on humans yet. That’s a whole other brain composition. Don’t you think that would open up new doors?”

  Randy looked at her, and for a moment Willow felt a lift of excitement. Maybe he saw it too. He’d understand why something so inhumane had to be done. One life in exchange for thousands, maybe millions? Wouldn’t it be worth it?

  But then Willow felt alone. When Randy looked at her, there wasn’t anger or confusion; there was just utter and complete anguish. Her sorrow for her father began his and with it, he folded in on himself.

  He spent a long time thinking it over. His eyes wandered from the ceiling back to Willow, and each time he saw her, he realized how deep she had gone into her desperation.

  “We could never do that,” he said. “If we do that, we lose all humanity. You can’t bargain one life for another, and if humanity is lost, what’s the point?”

  Chapter 13

  Sam’s eyes were open as they walked into the room. Paul was the first one through the door, and he rushed to her side. Sam’s head turned slowly. Her skin was pale, but a small smile crept up her lips.

  “Sammy,” he said as he wrapped his hand around her fingers. He was carful as he touched her, terrified to hurt her but afraid she might slip away if he let go.

  Shelly followed close behind, finding her way next to Paul at Sam’s side.

  It was Avery who paused the longest at the door. She stared at her little sister, but when she looked at her, it felt like she was seeing someone else. Her sister was there, but something was missing, like Sam was just an empty shell. Her eyes were glazed through her smile. Paul was speaking to her in hushed words, and Sam was looking around the room, not hearing a word he said. When she did look at her grandfather, she seemed only to look through him.

  “How do you feel?” he said. He brought a chair over to sit beside her. Shelly stood behind him, her arm on his shoulder. A silent tear had rolled down her cheek, but a smile was shining through. Sam blinked, looked around the room, and looked back at Paul. Her body was molded to the bed.

  “Sammy?” Avery took the final steps toward the bed and came to stand beside Shelly.

  “Hey,” Sam said, testing out her voice.

  “Look who finally decided to wake up,” Avery said, hoping the joke would bring her sister to the surface again.

  “Is that why I feel like this?” Sam moved to lift her head but decided against it.

  “What hurts, honey?” Shelly said.

  “Just my head.” She frowned when she left herself surrender into the mattress. “I feel like I’m in a haze.”

  “Paul, go get a nurse,” Shelly said. He let go of Sam’s hand and left the room.

  “Where’s Mom?” Sam said.

  The moment hung in the air. Avery’s stomach dropped, and Shelly froze in place.

  “Sam?” Avery was the first one to speak. She looked over to Shelly who had turned her back to Sam, wiping a tear from her face. “Mom passed away in the fire.”

  Avery watched Sam, waiting for a look of registration in her face, but it never came. Beside her, Shelly was trying to compose herself before turning back to face Sam. Avery watched as Sam let the news sink in. Her eyes flickered from side to side, but she didn’t look in any particular direction. Her body was still, relaxed almost, but her eyes grew red and her face grew limp. She was learning the death of her mother all over again.

  “Where’s Dad?” A small flame of hope flickered in her eyes as she looked at Avery, but it died just as soon as it appeared.

  “Sam,” Avery said. She wanted to say more, to explain, but the breath was caught in her lungs.

  Without any other words Sam understood, and she grew quiet. All three of them were like this when Paul walked back in the room, a nurse by his side. The nurse smiled when she approached Sam, but Sam’s mouth hung open.

  “Grandma?” she said. Shelly stood by her bed as the nurse worked over her. Sam’s eyes flickered to each face in the room. She was still searching for her parents. She had heard Avery’s words, but she couldn’t get herself to believe them.

  Shelly took Paul by the hand and motioned for the nurse to come over. Tears were running down her cheeks as she explained what happened.

  “She can’t remember?” Shelly asked, waiting for the nurse to give a reasonable explanation. Her voice was hushed, but she could barely manage to keep her voice down with the shock of the news. Paul was fidgeting as Shelly spoke, his eyes never leaving Sam.

  The nurse spoke without ever giving an answer for what was happening. “I’ll have to speak to the doctor.” She kept saying it over and over, and soon Shelly and Paul stopped listening.

  “Will she get better?” Shelly asked.

  The nurse crossed the room and replaced Sam’s IV bag before she answered. “The memories are there; they’re just jarred a bit from the trauma. Give her some time to process what’s happened, and she should be okay. We’re going to do an MRI just in case to ensure there was no other trauma from the seizure. Let me get Dr. Ash.” As the nurse spoke, her words became clearer, more confidant, but how much of it did the nurse believe? Or was she just saying all this to calm them down until they had real answers?

  Paul gripped Shelly’s hand as the nurse walked out the room.

  “I’m getting an MRI?” Sam’s voice was quiet as she spoke, but it broke the barrier in the room.

  “Yes, sweetie. We just want to make sure everything is okay,” Shelly said, but the words were spoken with a forced confidence.

  Sam looked at Avery before she turned her face down to her hands. If Sam looked closely enough, she could see the veins beneath the frail skin. The IV stuck out of her hand. Every time she looked at it, she was afraid to move. Would it hurt her if she lifted her arm too fast? She tried not to image the needle in her skin.

  “Sam?” Avery was kneeling beside Sam’s bed. “Do you want me to go with you?”

  When Sam looked up, she noticed a team of nurses around her. The doctor was in the back o
f the room, lines around his eyes, hair slicked back. He stood with his hands behind his back, perfectly patient. On Sam’s right side, another nurse was at her IV bag, checking its contents. How had she missed everyone coming into the room?

  “Dr. Ash says one person can stay while the MRI is being performed. Do you want me to stay? Or do you want Grandma or Grandpa?” Avery said.

  “Can you?” Sam said.

  Avery gave a small nod and as soon as she did, Sam’s bed was wheeled out of the room and down the hallway. Her heart thudded against her chest, and for a moment, she lost sight of Avery. Just as soon as she disappeared, a voice came from far behind.

  “I’m right here, Sam.”

  The motion of the rolling bed made her want to be sick. She pushed her arm out over the edge of the bed, reaching for Avery. A hand caught hers, and she let herself relax.

  Sam was pushed into a room that was mostly empty, save for a large machine that sat in the center. It was circular, with a relatively small opening in the middle, just large enough for a body. Connected to it was a bed that was nothing but hard plastic and a thin sheet.

  One of the nurses slipped her arms behind Sam’s back as she helped her sit up and switch to the hard length of plastic. Avery stood in the corner as she watched the nurses lead Sam into the machine. They spoke in soft, pronounced words.

  “You’ll have to lay very still while you’re in the MRI machine. Avery will be right here beside you the whole time.” Avery came forward from the corner of the room and placed her hand on her leg. “It’s going to be loud,” the nurse said, “so we’re going to give you these headphones to help with the sound. Would you like to listen to music?”

  Sam gazed up at the nurses as they placed the headphones over her ears. For a moment, everything was silent, and then there was music. She let herself drift as the nurses pulled something over her head. When she looked up there was a small mirror angled so she could see everyone in the room while laying down without having to move her head.