DJ’s arm shoots out, blocking me. She doesn’t even look at me, just keeps her eyes on Dr. Kimura.
I lean in close enough to her that my shoulder presses against hers, keeping my voice barely above a breath. “I can hear something. Coming from the bodies.”
DJ’s head turns just slightly. “Hear what?”
“Scratching.”
The word comes out way louder than I meant it to. Dr. Kimura’s head snaps up, her eyes pinning me like a bug to a board. I hold up my hand in an apology.
Only once she has returned to her work do I practically press my mouth against DJ’s ear. “Let me try using the cone.”
“What? No way.”
“I’ll be subtle.”
“You just announced to the entire room that you’re itchy. I wouldn’t call that subtle, and, besides, it won’t work from this far away.”
“Can I just try?”
Maybe it’s the desperation in my voice, but DJ reluctantly slips the cone into my waiting hand. I pretend to adjust my hair as I feel around my ear with the tube, locate the port on the earpiece, and plug it in. Every tiny sound amplifies in the room. The clinking of medical instruments echoes like pots and pans clanging together. The scalpel cutting into flesh turns into squelching and ripping that makes goosebumps rise on my arms.
I pretend I’m stretching my arm and aim the listening cone at the bodies, straining my ears until my head pounds with the effort, and focusing on the two bodies laid out in front of us. I’mabout to give up when it hits me: a voice so close it could be whispering directly in my ear.
I’m so sorry.
Something clamps down on my front tooth and yanks.
The pain is so immediate that I can’t even scream. Every nerve ending in my mouth burns as metal scrapes against my gums, grinding against bone. I gasp, sucking air through my teeth, and slap my hand over my mouth as my tooth is ripped out of my gum.
This is Greg’s pain. It’s not my pain.
Except it absolutely fucking is.
I turn away from the table and yank down my mask, reaching into my mouth with a gloved hand. My fingers probe, expecting a gaping hole or blood orsomething,but my teeth are all intact.
Another wave of pain hits me like a sledgehammer, and I bite down on my fingers to keep from making a noise.
DO IT ALREADY!
There’s no space between Greg and me. Someone’s screaming inside my head, and I can’t tell who. I’m Greg, and I’m me, and the pain is so bad my legs are going to give out.
DJ’s hand lands on my shoulder. “Eden?”
I pull the mask back up with shaking hands, trying to focus on anything but the taste of copper that isn’t really in my mouth. Another tooth gets yanked out, and I buckle over.
A different voice cuts through. This one is calm and conversational.
You may begin.
Something sharp pinches my pinky. I glance down at my hand, seeing nothing but feeling the blades digging in hard, finding the joint, applying pressure until?—
The bone breaks. I can feel the stump pulsing hot blood that isn’t there.
“Eden?” DJ’s in front of me now, both hands gripping my shoulders, her face swimming in and out of focus. “Eden, what’s happening?”
I try to tell her, but all that comes out is this strangled gargling sound.
“What’s wrong with her?” Dr. Kimura’s voice cuts through the fog, but nothing feels real compared to the pain.
