Page 15 of Unnatural
The second the nurses turned out of sight, Autumn booked it back the way she’d come, scurrying up the incline, tripping and cursing herself for her clumsiness. She ducked, running along the short row of bushes to the place where she’d climbed the fence and ascended rapidly as though someone—or something—might reach up, grab her leg, and pull her back down.
Chapter Eight
“You look good, Autumn, and your vital signs are wonderful.”
Autumn’s nerves fluttered. They’d run tests on her heartand her lungs a few days before. They’d done an ultrasound and a CAT scan. All the diagnostics were performed by machines. Today, they were going to take her blood. Test her urine. Would they know? Would they realize she’d been off her medication for a month now? Of course they would. They were medical professionals. How would they not? The machines might not show it, but her bodily fluids most definitely would.
She couldn’t be put back on the medicine yet. Not yet.I need time. Just a little more time where I have the strength to figure out what’s going on here. To determine what to do.
To find out what in the hell is going on at the fenced-in building next to this one where I saw a very real human monster.
“That’s nice to hear, Dr. Murphy. I feel good.” She feigned a small cough. “Not great but…I don’t expect to with my condition.” She’d limped in and taken a seat gingerly, wincing when she made contact with the chair, even though cushioned for their frail bones. But she couldn’t do muchto hide the weight she’d put on nor to diminish the glow of her skin or the clarity that had taken over her eyes. She cast her gaze to the side. “I was wondering though if I might put off any more tests for another few weeks. The needle is always the worst for me.” Which wasn’t a lie. Often because of her collapsed veins, it took even the most experienced nurse poke after poke after poke to find a vein. She wrapped her sweater around her. Surely they’d notice how plump her veins were now. “I’d like to…enjoy this…reprieve while it lasts.”
Dr. Murphy smiled, leaning forward. “I have one better than that, Autumn.”
“Better?”
“Much better.” His smile grew wider. “You’re being released. We believe you’re cured.”
Her body jolted. Herworldjolted. Her mouth fell open. “Cured?” The word came out in a croak, sounding strange and foreign. “That’s…that’s not possible. There’s no cure.”What is happening?
The doctor’s smile slipped just a hair. “Perhapscuredisn’t the right word.” His brows knitted. “Because you’re correct, there’s no cure for the disease associated with ADHM. But we, the other doctors and I, have looked at your test results, and those, in combination with the fact that you have thus far remained tumor-free, indicate that you have responded well to the Mesmivir and other medications. We’d like to conclude that it’s something to do with your DNA, but we don’t have enough empirical evidence yet.”
Autumn stared, dumbfounded.
The doctor pushed his glasses up on his nose. “There are things we’re still learning about this disease, and while your case is rare, we’ve been hypothesizing, and it’s the only thingwe can come up with.”
How could this be? She hadn’t beentakingher medication. It felt as if cymbals were clanging in her head, and she couldn’t determine if they were warning bells or sounds of far-off celebration. She was too afraid to strain her eyes in search of a victory parade, too fearful it wouldn’t really be there. Yet at the same time, panic and confusion consumed her. Why was this happening so quickly? No process? No preparation? She didn’t understand. “What if you’re wrong?” Her voice was still a mere croak.
Dr. Murphy’s gaze shifted slightly to the side, and a troubled expression crossed his face. “Well, I’ve asked that question too, Autumn…er, expressed my concern…but Dr. Heathrow is very certain and believes we should be too. He’s spent the last sixteen years studying every angle of this disease and believes wholeheartedly you will not begin to show signs with your history thus far and your current numbers.” He paused, that troubled expression returning before he very obviously rearranged his face into a false-looking smile. “However, an off-site doctor will see you regularly. Every couple weeks to begin with and then once a month. You’ll be run through a battery of tests every six months to make sure your numbers remain stable and your scans are clear.”
Doctor visits every couple weeks?And then tests every six months? She’d seen nurses daily since birth, been tested and run through machines, and had fluid drawn at least once a month all her life. She’d couldn’t fathom anything different. She was…cured? She was…leaving? But this was her home. Where was she supposed to go?
Autumn burst into tears, raising her hands and covering her face, panic and fear and joy and disbelief all warring for center stage. In the end, the disbelief won the battle. “Is thisadream?” she wailed.
She heard the creak of Dr. Murphy’s chair as he stood and felt his hand on her shoulder, patting. “No, no. I can assure you it’s no dream. Speaking of vivid dreams though, we’ll begin weaning you off your medication. It’s what causes them, as you know. You’ll be given instructions before you leave for your foster home.”
She shuddered, sniffed, wiped at her face.Weaning off?Just like that? It didn’t make any sense. They didn’t know she’d stopped taking the Mesmivir. As far as they knew, it was the medication that was keeping her well. Wouldn’t they want to determine that before they sent her away to a… “Foster home?” she choked out.
Dr. Murphy stepped back. “Yes. You leave today. I…well…” He thinned his lips momentarily in what appeared to be disapproval, and she sensed somehow that the doctor had conveyed all the same questions she was now asking herself but hadn’t been given answers that satisfied. That tiny red light from the security camera in the other facility flashed in her mind for some reason she couldn’t quite determine at that moment. But why would they send her away because of that rather than confronting or even punishing her? “Dr. Heathrow was quite insistent. He’s made all the arrangements.” Dr. Murphy made that expression again but added a smile, slightly happy but mostly perplexed, the look of a man delivering good news even he hadn’t expected. And she supposed that was accurate. How couldanyonehave predictedthis? “It’s soon, I know. But this disease has taken enough of your life. It’s time to live, Autumn. It’s time to be a normal teenage girl.”
Normal?What did that mean? How could she ever be normal? Her head began whirling, thoughts tumbling.Leave? Today?“Where am I going?”
“A small town about an hour and a half north from New York City in the Shawangunk Mountains.” Dr. Murphy sat down at his desk and pulled a pad forward and began writing on it.
“So far away from the hospital?” Autumn asked. “How will I visit my friends?”
Dr. Murphy stopped writing, adjusting his glasses again and meeting her eyes. “The truth is, Autumn, that it’s not the easiest task to find available housing for teenagers in the system. We were lucky to find a gentleman willing and also up-to-date on all his inspections and paperwork.”
A gentleman?They were sending a teenage girl to live on her own with aman? Would anyone be checking to see if she felt safe? The walls of Mercy were all Autumn had ever known. She had no clue how she’d survive out there…with agentleman.
Dr. Murphy paused and then began writing again before speaking. “It’s also probably better, as far as a clean slate, to put some distance between yourself and this hospital.” He stopped writing, placing the pen down and offering her a thin smile. “Perhaps even necessary.”
Her stomach dropped. “But everyone I know is here.”And something bad is happening. Something I’m still trying to figure out.Andhim. Hewas here. Somewhere very close by. Maybe even in the building next door.
There were so many confusing concerns and a hundred questions barreling full speed through her mind. She wanted to begin shouting them, demanding answers, pleading for someone to make this make sense.
“What about my books?” was all she managed to whisper. They’d been donated to the hospital by a charity, and eachchild had been allowed to pick a few to keep as their own. She had so little else that only belonged to her.
