I winced when she touched my hip.
“Sorry, but I want to be sure you didn’t pull a stitch.” She pressed her fingertips through my robe and along my cut. “Feels fine.”
“Okay, Doctor. Care to explain what’s going on?” I asked.
“I was accosted by a very persistent young man who insisted I was needed for an emergency. Imagine my surprise when he led me here. You were on the couch, unconscious and bleeding. After an initial check, I determined you had a concussion and had been stabbed.”
Which explained all the blood.
She watched my expression for a moment. “The young man would not let me take you to a proper surgical room, so we hadto make do.” The doctor fiddled with the tube. “I’m giving you an antibiotic, but the risk of infection is still very high.”
“How deep?”
“The knife penetrated to your pelvic bone, damaging your large intestines and your ovary. I stitched you up as best I could, but you might have trouble conceiving a child.”
Not a concern for me. “When will I be able to move?”
“You can walk around in a few hours, but it’s going to take a week for you to regain your full strength.”
A week! I’ll be recycled in a week. Sooner if the doctor reports me to the Pop Cops.
“Now it’s your turn. Care to tell me why you’re here?”
“No.”
“How about if I threaten to tell the authorities?”
I considered. The doctor could have reported me hours ago. “No.”
She grinned. “You called my bluff. Good thing your young man is a friend of mine.” Then her smile dissolved as sadness pulled on her features. “I’m not an idiot, though. A rogue scrub wearing a red cuff has been reported to be in the air ducts and, although injured, is potentially dangerous. The uppers have been ordered to listen at vent covers and alert the Travas about any suspicious noise.” She gazed at me as if memorizing my features. “Once the game is up, it never ends well.”
Jacy’s comment about results repeated in my mind. “Better to make an effort, then do nothing.”
“When the effort fails, is it worth the cost?”
A tough question to answer. Failure meant me, Domotor, Logan, Anne-Jade and Riley would all be recycled along with Cog. Six people. A high cost. “No.”
“Then why try at all?”
“Because there is a chance for success. Maybe not complete success, or even the hope for results, but maybe just planting aseed to grow long after I’m gone. It doesn’t have to be a total failure.” Logan already knew this. I understood his words about causing maximum damage on a deeper level.
“Good answer. It’s the reason I’m here.” She glanced at the clock. “Now that you’re in stable condition, I need to report to the infirmary.” Standing, she bustled about and gathered her supplies. “I’ll be back later to check on you.”
“Doctor?”
She turned.
“Thank you.”
Flashing me a smile, she left. The bluelight remained on, and I wondered why her motion hadn’t triggered the daylights. Perhaps Riley had turned off the sensor. Her comments about Riley as my young man made me laugh. Pain flared near my hip and I stopped.
I scanned the room for the fifth time. Nothing to do or see, I was alone with my thoughts. Funny how I had craved to be alone and now I wished for company. Wished to see Cog’s happy face. I had been avoiding the clock, keeping my gaze away. If I didn’t know the time, then Cog was still alive.
Instead, I reviewed my conversation with the doctor. This quest to find Gateway had started because I wanted to prove Broken Man wrong and save Cog the disappointment when his prophet disappeared without keeping his promises.
A simple task which had blown into a complicated mess, involving six—seven if I counted the doctor—people. Actually, if I included Jacy and his group, the scrub who covered for me and the kitchen scrubs, I was well past twenty.
Not the actions of sheep at all. In fact, if I was honest, I wanted to prove Broken Man wrong to save myself from hoping. To give myself permission to not care about the scrubs. So I could view them and treat them just like the Pop Cops did. As sheep.
