“Good,” she says. “Can you follow my finger?” She raises a blue gloved hand into view. My vision is still blurry, and I blink faster, trying to focus and follow. When she’s done, my gaze dips to my legs. Except, they’re not my legs.Are they?These legs are tucked under a scratchy blue wool blanket with rails of a hospital bed bracketing them.
Those aren’t my legs.
I wiggle my feet, and the blanket moves in the exact spot my feet would move. I bend a knee, and the blanket moves again.
I jerk upright, stiff pain follows, lancing down the center of my skull and back. I collapse back onto the pillows, moaning in pain.
“Slow down,” the woman dressed in scrubs instructs. “You’re going to be sore for a while.”
“Wh–what happened? Where am I?” The question feels stupid. I’m clearly in the hospital. Butwhy?And which hospital?
“Dr. Jones, can you tell—”
“Why do you keep calling me that?”
Her eyes widen, but only briefly, before she masks it with a cautious smile. Her entire demeanor changes, as if one wrong move could scare me away.
“I’ll, uh…be right back, okay? Don’t move.”
She doesn’t give me a chance to respond before she’s out the door. In the few seconds she’s gone, I take in the room: the sunlight pouring through the window, the wall clock insisting it’s barely 2 p.m., the whiteboard with my name scrawled at the top.Jesseeis written underneath, probably the nurse, andDr. Ahmanis listed as the attending. There’s a string of numbers I assume are measurements of something. But then my gaze snags on the date at the exact moment Jessee rushes back into the room.
“What is that?” I point at the board, the stiffness not leaving my body anytime soon.
“That’s today’s date,” Dr. Ahman—according to his name badge—says as he steps into the room. “January 18th.”
“That can’t be right.” I shake my head, the pain swelling with the motion. I press a palm to my forehead for relief, but no luck. “Yes, but 2026? I think your handwriting needs work.” I direct the words at the nurse, who shoots me a glare at my accusation. “Just saying. Could you fix it please?”
“She can’t fix it, Dr. Jones.”
“Whydo you keep calling me that?” I snap, irritation bubbling in my chest. “If this is a joke, it’s not funny. Where the heck am I? Did Liam put you up to this?” I was confused, but now I’m just irritated.I want to jump out of this bed, storm down the hall, and find Liam wherever he’s lurking. “Tell me where he is.”
Jessee and Dr. Ahman share a weary glance before Dr. Ahman approaches the bed.
“Steven,” he speaks gently, cautiously. And I don’t like it. “What is the last thing you remember?”
I gape at him, unamused at the lengths they’re going. But I don’t know their angle yet, so I guess I have to play the game.
“I don’t know,” I start. “I was…” I wrack my brain for my most recent memory when a pile of textbooks and a cell phone flash in my mind. “I was studying, I think.”
Jessee gasps. Must be part of the ruse.
“What?” I ask, incredulous. “Was that the wrong answer?”
Dr. Ahman sits at the foot of my bed and leans in close. “Steven, I can tell you’re irritated, but I need you to listen to me very carefully, alright?”
“If you tell me I was just unfrozen from a time capsule, I will dropkick you and find the nearest exit.”
Jessee scoffs, and Dr. Ahman smirks. “Glad to see your humor hasn’t left us.”
“Ah, so this is a joke? Thank God.” I throw my head back, letting my eyes search the room for clear signs of fakeness, but nothing comes. It all seems pretty legit to me.
“This isn’t a joke.” He places a hand on my shin. “Steven, you were attacked.”
“What?” My gaze snaps to him, and the fear swimming in both of their eyes tells me this isn’t a joke to them.
“You were attacked by a patient this morning,” he continues. “You are Dr. Steven Jones, and you work here at St. Mary’s Hospital as one of our leading ER physicians.”
I don’t say anything. His words don’t fit. None of this fits.
