Page 5 of Unnatural
Autumn was fourteen and three months.
And her last scan, while tumor-free, had shown a concerning thickening of her stomach walls and swelling of her uterus.
She was scheduled for a full hysterectomy in three months. Most female ADHM babies had them earlier to avoid the tumors that would inevitably grow there, but Autumn had been a late bloomer, her periods had been light and absent of the severe pain often associated with their disease, so the surgeon had put it off, opting to keep a close eye on any changes.
Because many if not most of those who had given birth to ADHM babies were chronic addicts, often living on the street, and diagnosed with one or several mental illnesses, a large swath of the kids were wards of the state and lived in government-run facilities like Mercy Hospital for Children. It served as a home, a hospital, and a school. Most had never met or known their birth mothers.
Autumn stretched her back as the nurse took Mara’s temperature. She felt especially sore this morning. The Mesmivir was their only hope of keeping the tumors under control or, in her lucky case, away entirely for as long as possible, but it also came with a long list of side effects ranging from unpleasant to horrible. It made them sick and achy. It gave them severe rashes and stomach issues, which often necessitated feeding tubes. It brought on migraines and cognitive disorders. But it was the sleep medication, designed and manufactured specifically for their bodies, that gave them vivid dreams so realistic they engaged all their senses.
Autumn had hated those dreams. Until last night. Before, she’d dreaded them because she’d woken disoriented andafraid. But this time, she’d opened her eyes with this sense of wonder and a feeling that the dreams were not at all what they seemed.
Cheryl patted Mara’s hand. “The pain meds should kick in shortly.” She shot Autumn a look. “You have ten minutes, and then this young lady needs to rest.” Then the nurse bustled out of the room, the soft-close door shutting silently behind her.
Mara adjusted herself again, wincing. “You’ll feel better in a few minutes,” Autumn told her.
Mara nodded, but her expression remained pained.
“I had one of the running dreams last night,” Autumn said, the words spilling out quickly, attempting to distract Mara from her obvious discomfort until the medication started working.Ifit started working. Because they’d been on every drug imaginable since birth, their tolerance was sky-high. Finding the right dose that would ease their pain without putting them in a coma was a challenge the doctors sometimes failed.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Mara said.
Mara knew the dream too. They’d all had a version of it. Likely because they were all highly suggestible and had no personal knowledge of regular life. The only things they knew intimately were each other, the hospital and its grounds, and the woods beyond. They seized on the experiences spoken of by others, even dreaming similar dreams. Certain materials were banned at Mercy because they brought on terrible nightmares that felt far too real to ADHM kids—horror movies, ghost stories, even tearjerkers. Once, a girl named Gracie, who was new at Mercy, had told them how she’d found her mother dead in the bathtub, and that night, they’d all dreamed about it in some form. Autumn’s dreamhad featured a creature with hanging skin emerging from a murky lake.
“No. That’s the thing. It was the same dream, only…different.Better.”
“Better?” Mara’s eyes lit with a small spark of interest. “What do you mean?”
“I gotcaught.”
Mara blinked, her mouth forming a small O. “And that was…better?”
“Yes. Because of who caught me.”
Mara pulled herself up on her pillow, and though she flinched, the expression was slight, and it smoothed out as she lay back down. “Tell me.”
Autumn described the incredible way he looked.
“He sounds like a monster!”
Autumn laughed, but it faded quickly, her brow wrinkling. “Yes…but no.”
“What did he do?”
“He juststaredat me like he didn’t know what to do.”
Mara’s eyes began to droop, her shoulders lowering as her body relaxed into the mattress.
Autumn exhaled a sigh of relief.Sleep, Mara. Heal.
“If that’s all that happens, then we should all stop running in our sleep.” Mara’s eyes fluttered once and then fell shut. “Maybe I’ll dream of the monster too. And if I do, I’ll take your lead,” she murmured, the words floating away as her hand went limp.
Autumn moved a piece of hair off Mara’s cheek. The blanket had slipped aside, and she saw the heavy surgical bandages. She also saw the lumps beneath her gown she knew were tumors. Hopelessness descended. Mara would need a miracle to survive. So it was with less hope that Autumntook her next breath, knowing that it was only a matter of time before she’d have to say goodbye to another friend.
Autumn stood slowly, allowing her body to adjust to the change in position, and then made her way to the door. A nurse guided an old woman toward the elevator. Someone’s grandmother—a few of those visited occasionally. She was weeping. She’d just received bad news. There was no lack of that at Mercy.
Autumn grasped her hands together, her head tilting as she caught sight of something on the side of her thumbnail. She brought it closer, frowning, using the nail of her index finger to remove the dark substance embedded. She stared at it, then rubbed it between her fingers, feeling its gritty texture.Dirt.She’d had dirt under her thumbnail. Dirt that had been deep enough under her nail that she’d missed it when she washed up that morning.
How was that possible when she lived in what could only be described as one of the most sanitized “homes” there was? She lived in a hospital where not even a speck of dirt existed.
