Arrows of Time - Kim Falconer [12]
What was he forgetting? It was a vital bit of information—but he couldn’t find it anywhere in his mind. Like when looking for lost keys, the more he searched, the more frantic he became. He couldn’t fit these pieces together. He rubbed the back of his neck. His thoughts continued to swirl, like butterflies, unable to alight anywhere, not for long, not for more than a fraction of a second. The most persistent queries jolted him like needles: sharp, searing, relentless. What have I done? Could I have stopped it? Should I have stopped it? What is it I can’t remember?
Those were only on the surface. Underneath was the question that had been pushing against his waking life and his dreamscapes ever since the patient was brought in. The question that was there waiting for him every morning when his alarm went off. It ate at his thoughts as he gulped down his coffee and raced off to work. It persisted through the day, lurking behind every task he performed, every lecture he gave, every patient he treated, every transplant he supervised. It haunted his words, infiltrating his voice whether he spoke truth or lies. It followed him to his bed at night and stood vigil over his sleep. The all-prevailing question that teased him, obsessed him, filled him with confusion, longing and desire—who was she? He didn’t even know her name. Or was that what he had forgotten? Had he known it once?
He raked his hands through his hair, grabbing his stethoscope as it slipped from around his neck. The question had irrevocably changed now that she was dead, the answer beyond reach. The knowledge of whoever she had been vanished with her—a library burned to the ground. The strange thing was that this unique event, unprecedented in his life, felt familiar, as if it had happened before. It was like a dream he was certain he’d had but couldn’t remember. What was the word for that? Déjà vu? He laughed. Ridiculous. There must be a plausible explanation and he had to find it soon. Or make one up. Admin would need an explanation. A credible one.
As he rounded the last corner, an officer stepped into his path, blocking his way. Tall, armed and frowning, she filled his vision, prohibiting escape. ‘I need to speak with her, Dr Kelly. I’ve waited long enough.’
He looked up into the woman’s eyes, keeping his face a mask, forcing his mind to be still. ‘Whom do you need to speak with?’
‘The Jane Doe we brought in last week. I’ve left several messages. You didn’t answer them.’
He brushed her aside. ‘You can’t see her now.’
She stopped him again. ‘I must insist.’
‘It’s not possible.’
‘Make it possible. We need information and she’s been unconscious too long.’
‘What do you want me to do?’
‘Wake her up.’
‘I can’t.’
‘Of course you can. We need a head shot for ID as well, and DNA samples. I have a requisition form, signed by…’
‘You’ll have to wait for Labs,’ Everett said, starting to push past her again. ‘They’ve first claim now.’
She grasped his arm, her long fingers circling his wrist like a vice. ‘I need to see your patient, Dr Kelly. I’m not waiting any longer.’
‘It’s too late,’ he said, avoiding the intensity of her eyes.
‘What do you mean, it’s too late?’
He focused on her badge, memorising the ten-digit number while he thought of what to say next. He wanted to avoid the word ‘death’ for as long as he could. It would give him time to handle the situation. He’d tell the press just enough to leverage his meeting with the ASSIST coordinators. He’d tell this officer less if he could get away with it. His plan was half formed but growing by the second. He didn’t want to speak too soon, if he could help it. ‘Your hunt has failed,’ he said. That would throw her off track.
‘What do you mean? The hunt is only beginning. She has to be from the Borderlands. It’s the