Meliora - Extricate - 45

[lady_mab]

Jun Zhou

I don’t remember the ride to the hospital.

I don’t remember walking up the stairs, supported by Zoné. I don’t remember being led down the winding halls, his hand in both of mine to keep me from falling behind. From simply stopping in my tracks and staring in shock.

What I do remember is this:

Doctor Sawyer, pristine in his white coat. His voice, soft and clinical. His words, I’m afraid he didn’t make it. Bled out on the way over.

Everything blurs around that moment.

I know that Zoné and the doctor speak, I know that I answer some questions.

I know that the doctor says it was odd that they found traces of increased Vitamin E, and that, combined with the Aspirin, is what caused the excessive bleeding.

Between all the nosebleeds, and the shots for Meliora, and the painkillers, he lost blood faster than he could replenish it. No one knew what was wrong, they thought it would pass. So they didn’t take proper precautions.

And because of that, Glen has been reduced to a stage direction: He bled out.

Zoné turns to face me, but we’re both having a hard time meeting each other’s gaze. “I’ll… I’ll call the others.”

My stomach, already leaden and weighing heavy on the rest of me, drops. The realization that we will have to tell the others. “He could not--” I try, but my voice fails me. “He was fine.” This shouldn’t have been a different evening. It should have been like any of the others.

“I know,” Zoné says, and his words almost undo me. He pulls me into a hug, squeezing hard enough that I can’t breathe, but it’s enough to break through the fog in my head. “I know.”

I force my fingers into fists around his jacket, burying my face in his chest for two deep breaths. I don’t want to let go.I am only standing because of his grip on me. “I need to sit down.”

He nods and releases me slowly.

I don’t want to sit in this room, where everyone can see me, see my grief grow and expand to fit the space. I walk without knowing where I’m going, taking a turn at random, until I find an empty stretch of hall.

It’s dark here, with chairs against one wall. The doors on the other side have pale squares of soft light that look into the room beyond. I drop into one of the chairs before my legs can give out.

Inch by inch, I double over until my hands cover my face.

He didn’t make it.

I can still feel the weight of him against me as we sat on the planter -- as he struggled to stay awake as he bled out before my eyes.

I should have done something.

There must have been something that I could have done.

There’s a creak of weight in the chair next to me and a soft sigh as someone sits down. One of the twins, or perhaps a nurse come to check on me.

I want to tell them to go away, but instead the words come out of me like an excuse. “I should have turned down his idea to hang out. He had not been feeling well. I should have told him to stay home.”

The person beside me shifts. I can feel the weight of their unspoken words as they try to decide what to say. It’s Lionel’s voice that speaks after a long pause. “I can’t remember. Did I ever tell you about what I found out in the shot they give us?”

I sniffle and scrub my fingers against my eyes. Carefully, uncertain of what I’ll see, I tilt my head to look up at him. “I do not think so.” It’s a poor attempt at a distraction if that’s what he’s aiming for, but he gets points for trying. This must be hard for him, too.

He sits with his elbows on his knees and hands clenched together. “The shots are laced with little RFID tracker chips and drugs used to alter memory inhibitors. You know, like being able to make memories better and stuff like that.” His entire body is coiled with pent up energy, a spring ready to explode at any moment. “It’s… um… Vitamin E is an enzyme that is easily absorbed by the body, and so it’s used as the base for the transmitters and the memory drug.”

His words settle in bits and pieces, chunks become a picture, and I fill in the gaps with what Doctor Sawyer said. An excess of Vitamin E. Anticoagulants.

Mistakes like this do happen.

“So this is an accident?” I finally ask, voice cracking.

Lionel nods, staring out across the hall. “I think so.”

“There was not anything that could have been done?”

His hands gesture wildly out before him, and it’s the most emotion he’s allowing himself. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Jun. Medical accidents happen all the time. Are you planning on blaming ALICE for this? Did you want it to be on purpose so you could have someone to blame?”

Yes, I want to say. It burns in my mouth, angry and vicious. It is the word that I will use to tear them apart.

But I can’t force it out. My conviction isn’t enough. One accident isn’t enough -- not when there have been other, larger problems to other people.

Only this problem involves one of my people, and I’ve lost him.

I rake my hands back through my hair, gripping the roots and tugging to try and bring myself to my senses. “No. I think… I do not know. I honestly do not know what to do.” My voice wavers, is too weak. I can’t muster the energy.

Lionel kicks one foot out, sneaker squealing on the linoleum. “Neither do I. I don’t think any of us do. Keep being strong. Be the same girl that told me not to be a coward.”

For some reason, this makes me laugh. Someone with strength to support others? It seems so ridiculous now, especially considering how heavily I had to lean on Zoné to even make it this far. “Maybe in a bit,” I tell him. “But right now, I cannot.”

Footsteps reach us, and Lionel starts to rise. The nurse that rounds the corner is the same one that looked after me when I was admitted back in December. The one that works with my uncle. After a brief, cautious glance at Lionel, he calls out to me in Mandarin.

“Meimei. I heard about what happened.”

I sit up a little straighter, rubbing my cheek with the heel of my hand. “What did you hear?”

“Are you sure…?” He makes a small hand gesture. “Does he know?”

I spare a quick glance at Lionel. “He knows enough.” And then, to make it easier, I switch back to English. “It is okay, Xue. You can tell him too.”

Xue spares another look at Lionel, this one a bit longer but just as cautious. “Uncle Bao asked us to look out for anything for you. Willis -- he was your friend?”

I focus on what is important instead of what makes my heart ache. “Yes. You remembered?”

Xue nods once. “It was difficult. Things start slipping if I’m not reminding myself about them. But his file was already flagged because of that game you are participating in.”

Lionel struggles upright and grabs my wrist. “You told him?”

My shrug is hopefully as casual as I would like it to be. “I told my uncle and asked if he could have people look out for irregularities. An effort to try and track and identify events for Meliora.” Ideally, it would have caught this before it escalated. Ideally, we should not have been put in this situation.

It’s as much as I’ve told Zoné and Glen. Uncle Bao has people at his disposal in every walk of life -- he can ask any one of them to investigate something that he finds curious.

Eyebrows quirking in confusion, Lionel stares at me as if I’ll hold the answer he’s looking for. “What kind of man is your uncle?”

“A very good cook,” Xue says, and this brings a small smile to my lips. “I can’t stay long. I’m on call so I can’t linger. But I wanted to ask -- is there anything you would like to do?”

I would like to see Glen, but I don’t know if that’s possible. I don’t know what I would find.

Before I can make up my mind, Lionel speaks.

“A tissue sample.”

I don’t know what sort of expression settles on my face but I feel my heart stutter and clench. “What?”

Lionel looks as if he doesn’t even know why he said that. His eyes dart around, avoiding lingering on anything for too long, and his hands try to form a shrug. “I know someone who works in a lab not associated with ALICE. He’s the one I asked to look into the properties of the shot for me.”

Xue visibly hesitates, but when I don’t argue, he nods. “I can do that.” He offers me a small bow and leaves.

I feel empty when his footsteps finally fade. My eyes slip shut and I breathe in once, twice. It takes a considerable effort, and I don’t know how I manage the strength.

Once again, I bury my face in my hands. Another breath, and then I channel all of my anger and frustration into a scream. It’s muffled against my palms, but I can still sense Lionel’s tension at the sudden sound.

“Are you okay?” he asks, and I want to laugh. But I can’t manage the oxygen right now.

“I’m trying very hard not to break down.”

“No,” he murmurs. “That I get.”

I have to keep moving. I have to keep feeling like I’m doing something. So I push myself to my feet and turn to face him.

He stares up at me with wide eyes, as if seeing me for the first time. Or seeing someone else where he expected me.

I hold out my hand between us.

There’s a beat of hesitation before he takes it, and I tug him to his feet. Our toes touch, and I grip his hand. I don’t look away.

“Help me figure out what is happening.”

“I will,” he replies, breathless.

“Help me figure out what happened to Glen.”

“I will.”

The smile that I finally manage feels more like a ghost than any sort of cheer. “Thank you.” I squeeze his fingers and draw away. He doesn’t follow as I head back to the reception desk where I had last seen Zoné.

Doctor Sawyer is on the phone, and I find Zoné sitting in a chair in the middle of the empty waiting room with his head tilted back and his eyes staring blankly up at the ceiling.

My feet carry me automatically to him. His phone is on the chair next to him, light in the corner indicating unread messages.

He doesn’t look up as I take the other seat. But he does release the death grip on his knees when I reach for his hand. “I called the others. I… Glen’s number is still in the group chat. I don’t. I don’t know what we’re supposed to do.”

“We are going to try our best to keep going.” My voice is quiet in the heavy atmosphere. I curl up, legs tucked beneath my chin, and rest my head on his shoulder.

Zoné’s arm wraps around my shoulders and pulls me in closer against him. “One day at a time.”

“One day at a time,” I agree.

Otherwise, if I look too far forward, I’m afraid that I won’t find anything worth walking towards.

Previous | Masterpost | Next