Page 8 of Birds of a Feather

Gabby couldn’t make sense of what she saw. It appeared to be a map of WANC, detailing the various spaces inside, including the hospital wing. Last Gabby knew, they weren’t giving maps out to visitors, and staff wouldn’t need one, so who did this belong to?

Gabby jumped as a staff member, Char, entered the room, tray in hand.

“It’s lunchtime,” they announced, placing the tray on the side table that could roll over to cross the bed. Char’s brows raised after noting the look on Gabby’s face. “I swear they didn’t accidentally give you chicken noodle soup again. It’s tomato. See?” They pointed to the thick orange liquid in the bowl next to the grilled cheese sandwich. Even though the kitchen used certified shifter-free meat, and wild crows might eat nestlingbirds, Gabby chose to not eat birds on principle. It felt wrong, though other types of meat were just fine.

Gabby shook her head and held out the saturated paper. “Found.” She breathed deep and focused, trying to find that part of her brain that was used in singing. Picturing herself singing the words, she sang-talked, “I found this by the window.”

Char’s eyes widened. “Oh my gosh, Gabby. That was a full sentence!”

A hot blush filled Gabby’s cheeks. She hated being the center of attention, even if there were only two people in the room. She especially didn’t know how to take compliments. Instead of trying to muddle through saying thanks, she pointed at the window, bringing Char back to the problem at hand. “Right.” Char glanced down at the paper, careful not to rip it. Their dark brows wrinkled up in interest. “This is a map of the hospital.” Concern replaced the joy on Char’s face. “Show me exactly where you found this.”

Gabby crouched down, pointing to the place on the floor where she found the map. Then she stood, opening the window and flicking the torn screen. She had enough talking for one day and felt Char could piece together what she was implying.

Char poked their fingers through the hole in the screen. “That’s large enough for a small shifter, wouldn’t you say?” Char locked their deep green eyes on Gabby, anxiety printed on their face.

Gabby nodded. Though she shouldn’t have felt relief, she did. It came in quick waves, washing away the worry from before, if only because now she wasn’t alone in this. Char would help her.

But it brought a new reason for anxiety. If the paper wasn’t dropped from someone inside WANC, that meant someone who shouldn’t be there now was. Gabby felt her eyes widen as she locked eyes with Char, the meaning of what they implied sinkingin. She immediately thought to Dr. Grimm. He was back. And that meant she wasn’t safe.

And she still couldn’t get the words out to explain it.

6

Lyla followed the signs to the library. The few cadets and FUC agents she passed paid her little mind. One cadet asked which instructor’s class was so challenging that she needed an IV bag to recover. She wasn’t sure why she felt self-conscious about admitting she was one of the rescued experiments. Usually that was pretty apparent with the feathers sticking out of her head—in the hospital wing at any rate. Instead of explaining her situation, she spit out, “Agent Stone.” She said the name of the only FUC agent she knew—which was only because he’d been the agent working her case. Lyla hoped he was an instructor too.Feathers crossed.With any luck, it was a good guess.

The cadet seemed satisfied. “I heard he’s tough. I hope you at least got a good grade,” the cadet added before leaving Lyla to her mission.

The doors to the library proved not hard to find. Lyla expected some attention with the IV bag in tow, but everyone she passed seemed to think it was as normal as Maude’s meatless meatballs. Rolling the stand with the IV bag across the transition strip on the floor separating the library from the hall was a struggle she had not anticipated. The metal clanged andthe tiny wheels rattled before she gave up and carried the stand over the threshold.

The librarian—Albert according to the nameplate across his desk—narrowed his eyes at her before putting his finger to his lips in a shushing gesture. She felt herself shrink slightly in embarrassment. “Sorry.” Once satisfied she was warned and would be quiet, he went back to the stack of books before him.

She glanced around, hoping to see a row of computers. Afraid to ask the librarian she’d already managed to piss off before fully setting foot inside the library, Lyla decided to wander around and not ask for directions. Besides, she had nothing but time on her hands. After meandering through and around various stacks and shelves of books, she found some desks with computers.

“I told you we’d find it,” she whispered to the bag, afraid to draw the unwanted attention of Albert by talking too loudly. She sat at one of the terminals, hoping you didn’t need a password to log on. The computer came alive after she shook the mouse. Maybe with the number of guests around WANC, like the rehab patients, they didn’t see the need for passwords and wanted everyone to feel as at home as possible. Whatever the reason, she was thankful.

Lyla’s fingers flew across the keyboard. Without her smartphone, she was jonesing for technology. She loved computers and video games. The common area where the video game console was located always seemed to be monopolized by a flock of seagull shifters. If the hospital wing took comment cards, she’d leave one saying more entertainment was needed. Some of the patients required a lot of time for rehab. It seemed to her that the baddies who experimented on them had no idea how they got the results they did. That made it challenging for the doctors at WANC to reverse it. Plus, the apprehended sickos who experimented on them didn’t like to give up the secrets they did have. It made the healing process that much more difficult.

A slew of websites on Broca’s aphasia opened up, and she dug in, reading various articles about the affliction Gabby had. She learned that, with it, both writing and speaking were difficult. It seemed there were no shortcuts to improving. Patients needed intensive therapy to relearn how to speak.

Disappointed that there didn’t seem to be a magic cure for her new friend, Lyla kept reading, focusing on the things that those around the patients could do to help. Keeping them company was one thing—people in isolation healed slower than those surrounded by friends and family. Lyla also read that helping Gabby to finish her sentences by giving her the next letter or sound could be helpful, but that seemed more like a practice thing. If Lyla didn’t know what Gabby was trying to say, she wouldn’t be able to help her out. Unless it was a word she was already asking her to say.

Lyla frowned at the current article on her screen. It helped a little, she supposed. She was looking more for a miracle. Something that could completely put her friend at ease. Something impossible. Healing was difficult, she knew that and tried to forget it most days.

She looked to the clock on the wall. The hour hand was creeping close to noon. Her eyes moved to her IV bag. It was getting low and would need to be changed soon, and she didn’t want to get in trouble for letting it run out. It was time to leave.

Lyla got up from the computer feeling less hopeful than she had upon entering the library. At least she learned a bit about the condition. That was more than she knew this morning. And it had gotten her out of her room. If she stared at those four walls any longer, she’d be the one screaming into her pillow tonight. She thought about Huggie’s party. It was something to look forward to. But would Gabby go if she asked her?

She grabbed the bar of the IV tower and shepherded it along next to her. Careful not to piss off Albert and risk making toomuch noise, Lyla glided the wheels of the device across the library floor. They rattled softly. She flicked her gaze to Albert. He’d buried his nose in another stack of books. In fact, he barely seemed to notice she was leaving. She’d toed the threshold of the door back into the hallway when the shifter piped up, “Cadet?”

Lyla turned on her heel, her heart hammered in her ears. “Y-yes?” she asked, hoping a hole would open in the floor and swallow her. It would save her from talking her way out of whatever predicament she found herself in. She was quieter than a mouse shifter.What could I have possibly done to attract his attention?Lyla feared that if she got in trouble, she’d never be able to visit the library—or the computers—again.

“I hope to see you around here more when you’re feeling better. It’s always good to see a new face.”

Lyla smiled. She could tell he genuinely meant it. “I will.” She looked back at the computers. Her hands were at home on the keys and controlling the mouse. It felt as normal as the outfit she now wore. “I really miss my computer,” she added. After giving Albert her thanks, she headed off.

She plucked the IV stand from the floor and plopped it onto the tiles on the other side. After letting out a sigh of relief that she managed to not make a lot of noise this time, she inspected the hallway for anyone who looked nosy or like hospital staff. That last thing she wanted was to be lectured about letting her drip get too low. She was about to wander on when she caught the glimpse of a thick, pink worm flicking around the corner at the end of the hallway. Lyla rubbed at her eyes. They must have been playing tricks on her. Why would there be a large worm in the hallway?

Instead of walking toward the hospital wing, she wheeled her IV bag after the mysterious creature, but it was quicker than she expected, and by the time she made it to its location, it was gone. She rubbed at her head, feeling confused. Was her sugar too lowand she was hallucinating? She didn’t think so. The dextrose drip was low but not yet empty.

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