by Mandi Lynn
Randy was torn, that much was clear. He was watching Willow with anxious eyes, but his body seemed to bounce with excitement as she spoke. There was a cure on the horizon and he knew it. How soon the cure surfaced was dependent on how much Randy let ethics stop her from administering the new vaccine into Sam.
“But you can’t regenerate lost tissue. The memories that Sam had are gone forever.”
“They are,” she admitted. “But that doesn’t mean they can’t be found. Alzheimer’s patients don’t remember things because they’ve lost the tissue to hold in the information, but if the tissue was regenerated, in theory, they should be able to re-learn things. Similar—”
“To some cases of amnesia.” He finished the thought.
Willow smiled as she watched him process everything. He was silent in his thinking and she didn’t dare speak. He was methodical as he thought, and Willow knew that it would work to her advantage for once.
He eyed the vial and looked back to Willow.
“It could work,” he said. “But what if it needs to be continually administered for the rest of her life? Alzheimer’s isn’t just one cell dying, it’s a constant cycle of cell death.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do. A cure is a cure.”
“Her family will know. Eventually, they’ll find out.”
She looked back at Randy before responding. “Yes,” she said. Her tone was serious.
“They could still sue. They’d win.”
“We’d have the cure.” She was much too confident in the cure. There were always repercussions of her actions, but she pushed the thoughts aside, focused only on the goal that lie ahead. She was counting on the success of finding a cure overshadowing the life she had put in danger—her bets were waged high.
“Willow,” he said, because there was nothing else to say. He wanted to go back in time, to the day she had injected Sam with the serum and take it all back. No matter what they did, he could see the both of them losing their license to practice soon—more than that. Even if they did find the cure for Alzheimer’s, would the medical world ever let them show their faces again? Or would they go down in history as the people who let their desperation get in the way of their ethics?
“Randy, we have no other choice,” she said. He heard her words and knew just how painfully true they were. She put her arm out for him, and he sat next to her on the couch. They held hands, her grip firm and sure, and his weak and confused. The possibilities were in front of him, and neither option was ideal. Only one held any sort of hope, and it was slim.
“I know,” he said.
She took a breath and let her hand slip out of his. She stood from the couch, placing the vaccine back in the pocket of her scrubs. When she turned to him his eyes were glass. Randy was a man who’d seen his fair share in the medical field. After years of being a doctor, this was the first time she’d seen him cry.
“I’ll be back,” she said. She kissed him on the forehead before she turned away. The door clicked shut behind her. He knew she’d step into Sam’s room soon. Sam would be alone for another hour or two before she got her first round of visitors, but before that Willow would take the small needle to her arm and let the vaccine work its way through Sam’s body. Whether or not it would work, Randy was still painfully unsure.
Chapter 28
“I don’t want another shot,” Sam said. Her eyebrows were in a firm line, and she had her sight set on the syringe in Willow’s hand. She shut the door behind herself when she walked into Sam’s room, but now she eyed it again to be sure no one would be able to hear.
“I know it hurts,” she said. She put the syringe down on a rolling tray that also had the antiseptic she needed to administer the shot.
Sam began backing away in her bed. Willow reached out for her arm as lightly as she could without scarring Sam. Her eyes grew wide once Willow’s hand touched hers.
“No!” she said. She tried to tug her arm away but Willow’s grip didn’t loosen. She began to use her other hand to pry Willow’s fingers off one by one. Willow let go and put the syringe down.
“Sam,” she said. Her voice was firm, her eyes steady. Willow had patience. She watched Sam and Sam looked back, her wide, not sure what to do. At first she began to lean away again, but when she saw Willow wasn’t reaching out for her anymore she let herself relax—she watched Willow’s hands.
“Why do I need another shot?” Sam’s voice was careful when she spoke. She never remembered the faces of all the people that came in to see her, but there was always one woman, the one that stood in front of her now, that made her sit on edge.
“This is going to make you feel better,” Willow said.
Sam was watching Willow’s hands. They were in her lap, resting, no sign of coming out to grab her.
“What’s wrong with me?” she said. Her eyes remained on Willow’s hands waiting for them to attack her.
Willow watched as Sam turned shallow and pale. It was like she wanted to cry, but her body didn’t have the strength to. Instead, she laid her head to the back of the bed, her body propped up, and breathed in deep raged breaths, crying without tears.
Sam closed her eyes as she cried, and Willow picked up the disinfectant from the tray next to her. She swiped a dampened towelette across the top of Sam’s arm. By the time Sam opened her eyes and looked over to Willow, she already had the needle braced and in place.
Sam’s eyes were wide as she watched the needle plunge into her skin. Willow tried to be as delicate and quick as possible, but Sam still let out a shriek as the vaccine was injected into her skin.
“No!” Sam screamed.
Once the vaccine was emptied from the syringe she pulled it away from Sam and tossed it into the biohazard container in the room. Willow held gauze to Sam’s arm to stop any bleeding. Sam cowered away, moaning softly as she looked at the spot where Willow had given her the shot. Willow held the gauze in place for a few minutes to let the blood clot so she wouldn’t need a band-aid. When Willow finally pulled her hand away, she noticed she was shaking.
Sam was still stifling a cry as Willow cleaned up any evidence of the vaccine. As she walked out of the room, she took the biohazard trash with her to be emptied.
She hadn’t anticipated Sam resisting. She had planned for an easy injection like she had done before, but there was a spark in Sam that she hadn’t expected. She’d never seen her fight so strong for something she didn’t want. If she had known Sam was going to put up a fight, she would have waited a few hours, until after her grandparents came and left. Now their visit was in less than hour and Willow’s only hope was that Sam would have forgotten the incident by then, or that if she did remember, her grandparents might dismiss it as one of the odd stories she liked to tell.
As she walked back to Randy’s office, she tried to compose herself. She still had the trash in her hand and found the dumping station on the way. She supposed she should have felt better, having the evidence hidden away, but knowing that she had evidence to hide made her all the more wary.
When she got to the office, the door was locked. She knocked, but Randy didn’t answer. She knocked again, putting her ear to the door afterwards. She thought the room was empty at first because she couldn’t hear anything, but after holding her breath she could hear him within, quietly crying. His hitched breath seemed to reverberate through the wooden door.
She moved away from the door, assuming the only place to go was home, but as she turned away she could hear the door creak open. She turned and saw Randy’s face, and for once they were mirror images. She looked at him, horror, shock, but mostly just shame.
Neither spoke to the other. In his mind, Randy was wondering if the vaccine was administered, but he was too afraid to ask while Willow was too scared to hear him speak. Was he mad at her for going through with it?
“Is it time to go home?” she said. Her voice wavered and that was all Randy needed to hear to know that, yes, she had administered the vaccine.
“Yeah,”
he said, and the two walked out the door of the hospital and went home. He told his team he was feeling sick and to have another doctor fill or change the rest of his appointments for the day. None one questioned him after they saw the dead, vacant look in his eyes.
— — — — —
Paul and Shelly were late. Dover Memorial Hospital was about forty-five minutes away, and by the time they hit the road they were already a half an hour behind. Neither of them talked much on the ride as Paul glowered at the road and Shelley stared out the window at the trees as they passed by. The murmurs of songs coming from the radio was the only buffer for the moment.
“What the hell,” Paul said, his knuckles going white against the steering wheel. They had pulled onto the highway and already they were bumper to bumper.
Shelly leaned forward and switched on the station on the radio.
“A three-car crash on I-90 East has resulted in a backup going all the way into—” Paul leaned forward and shut off the radio.
“Why’d you do that?” Shelly asked.
“I’m in the traffic right now, I don’t need to be told about it.”
“Maybe there’s a back road we can take?”
“A back road would take even longer,” he said. “It’s not like Sam will know if we’re late anyways.”
Shelly wanted to say something in Sam’s defense, but she knew it was true. It was after a long half hour that they got through all the traffic and pulled into the parking garage of the hospital.
“We’re here to see Samantha Ellison,” Shelly said. They were at the front desk of the inpatient hospital wing. The woman at the desk smiled and reached over for the clipboard guests were required to sign into each time they came to visit. Once they had their visitor passes, they went down the hall to Sam’s room like they have so many times in the past month.
“Good morning, Sammy,” Shelly said as she walked in. Paul followed close behind, but he didn’t speak—the anger from the drive over was still spilling off him.
Sam was in her bed, propped up, but fast asleep. Her head was lulled off to the side, her mouth slightly open.
“Sam,” Shelly said. She touched the top of her arm and Sam bolted awake.
“No!” she said.
Shelly pulled her arm away but leaned in next to Sam. “It’s okay, sweetie, it was just a dream,” she whispered.
Sam calmed at the sight of Shelly, but her body was still rigid. Shelly reached out to hold her hand. Sam pulled away at first, but eventually she let Shelly comfort her. She looked around the room, past Shelly to Paul. He was watching her, but soon enough he turned away to grab a seat to pull forward.
“It’s okay, sweetie,” Shelly said.
Sam’s eyes were darting around the room and finally came to rest on the door that was left open. She was waiting for someone else to walk in. Paul followed her gaze and got up to close the door. It took only seconds after that for her body to relax.
Shelly was still holding her hand when she put her hand out and touched a sore spot on the top of her arm. She rubbed it like you would a fresh bruise to see if it really did hurt.
“Are you okay?” Shelly asked.
The corners of Sam’s lips turned down and she covered her arm with her hand. “It hurts.”
Shelly moved Sam’s hand out of the way and looked closer. She thought she saw a speck of blood if she looked closely, but she wasn’t sure if her eyes were playing tricks on her or not. She ran her finger over the small speck and looked over to Paul.
“Do you think I should call a nurse?”
“Is there any bruising?” he asked.
“I don’t think so.”
“Just wait until the nurse comes in later, they’ll come to check on her soon enough. Maybe she was laying on it weird.”
Shelly turned back to Sam and watched her squirm as she was laying down. Her face was flushed and Shelly put her hand to Sam’s forehead. She was hot, overly hot.
“Paul?” she said. She heard him grunt as he got up from his chair and stood beside her. “Does she feel hot to you?”
He put the back of her hand to her forehead. Maybe she was a little hot.
Sam squirmed again, unable to get comfortable. She turned to her side, away from Shelly, and sat up.
“Sam, you okay?”
Before Shelly could say anything, Sam leaned over the edge of her bed and began coughing.
“Sam!” Paul said. He rushed forward and gripped her shoulders as she slumped her body over the edge. Her coughing continued until the vomit followed shortly after. Shelly stepped back from the scene and hit the call button by Sam’s bed.
Chapter 29
A nurse was holding a small disposable pan in front of Sam. Her cheeks were red, and she was leaning forward, gripping the bucket as if it were the only thing holding her up. Shelly was standing behind her, braiding her hair to keep it out of the way.
When the nurse first came in, she called in housekeeping and another nurse to help clean up the mess, but now it was just her. She said her name was Jamie.
“How are you feeling?” she said. She was gripping the bucket into place. Behind Sam, Shelly finished tying off the braid and stepped to the side.
Sam shook her hand and leaned forward a bit more.
“How bad is her fever?” Shelley asked.
“Not terrible. It’s at 100.3 right now, but we’d prefer her not to have a fever at all. We’ve given her some medication to help lower it. She should be feeling better in a bit.”
“What do you think is causing her to be sick?”
“It could be anything really. We’ve been monitoring her food intake and nothing has changed, so it’s most likely not that. It could be a hospital acquired infection, but her symptoms aren’t bad enough, and she also isn’t hooked up to any equipment that would cause that.”
“And what if it is?” Paul spoke up now. Their fight as to whether they wanted Sam to stay at this hospital was said and done, but Shelly could hear the conversation surfacing all over again.
“Our priority is to find the cause of what’s making her sick, no matter what it might be, and cure it. Sam is already a tricky patient, and her being sick will only make her recovery harder.” Jamie wanted to say more, that the fever and vomiting might be caused by whatever has been affecting Sam’s memory, but she didn’t want to add to their stress until Dr. Ash had his opinion on the matter, and he wasn’t going to be in for another hour or so.
Sam began coughing again, and Jamie tightened her grip on the bucket. Her cough was loud, but she’d worked with patients long enough to know that vomit was not going to be associated with this cough.
“It’s okay,” she said. Sam’s cough lightened, and she leaned back into her bed.
Jamie put the bucket beside Sam’s hip and checked her IV. Medication had been slipped into the IV to help with the nausea while also keeping Sam hydrated.
“Dr. Ash will be here in the next hour to speak with both of you. We’ve been logging her vitals, and we’re hoping by the time he gets here, Sam will be feeling better. We also want to figure out what’s making her sick.”
“Hour?” Paul asked. They were used to their visits by now, and it wasn’t that he didn’t want to spend time with his granddaughter, but it seemed ridiculous to spend so much time waiting for a doctor who may not have a solution.
“As soon as he steps through the door, I’ll send him to you,” Jamie said.
Paul didn’t say anything, which Jamie took as an okay and walked out of the room.
In the hour it took for Dr. Ash arrive, Sam fell asleep again, hugging her stomach. Every now and then, Shelly would step forward and hold her hand to her cheek or forehead to check her temperature. Eventually, Sam’s temperature dropped to normal and Shelly could relax a little more.
There was a quiet knock at the door even though it had been left open. Shelly and Paul both sat up in their seats as Dr. Ash stepped into the room. His eyes were shaded with dark circles.
“
Good evening,” he said. He smiled with his shoulders held back in an attempt to hide his unease as he crossed to where Shelly and Paul sat. He smiled in his usual way, but people who knew him closely could see the look of dread in his face as he walked into Sam’s room.
Shelly was waiting for Paul to say something, but he kept himself seated in his chair. He had given up on Dr. Ash a long time ago. It was Shelly who spoke first.
“Do you know what’s wrong with Sam?” she said.
Dr. Ash had looked over her vitals when he came in, but nothing was alarming about her results. Randy hadn’t spoken to Willow after she injected Sam with the vaccine. He had looked at her and known she had carried through with it, but the vacant look in her eyes made him realize something must have gone wrong. He wanted to ask, but knowing he had to face Paul and Shelly, he wanted to play ignorance, even if it was for just a day.
“Her fever has lowered; she’s back down to 98.9. We’re going to keep monitoring her and run a few more tests, but I think she’s going to be okay.”
From afar, he thought he saw a bruise forming on the top of Sam’s arm. Was that where Willow administered the shot? He blinked, and when he looked at her arm again it was the pale pink it had always been.
“Can I go home?” Sam said. Until now she had been quietly laying back in her bed. Her hair was pulled back into a braid and while just a few hours ago she had been vomiting, her eyes were bright.
“Sweetie,” Shelly said. She stood up and came to Sam’s side, holding her hand. Sam frowned when she touched her. “You have to stay here until you’re better.”
“What’s wrong with me?” Shelly’s eyes dropped to the ground when Sam looked at her.
“That’s what we’re here to find out.” She looked from Sam to Dr. Ash and smiled. He wanted to give her something hopeful to hang onto, but it felt like it would be a false hope. “Doctor, is there anything else we need to discuss today? It’s been a long day for all of us, and I think we’d all like to get some rest.”
