lise

droom, where the private physician Gregory kept

nd sanitizer and quiet panic. He had cut the expensive emerald silk away from my right flank

rips of heavy medical adhesive tape across my torso, pulling them tight to compress the chest wall. "

ol injection," I cut him off, my voice flat, leavi

s black leather bag without another word. The needle bit sharp and deep into the space between my ribs. A wave of intense, stinging press

" he warned, wiping his brow with a trembling sl

s is plent

is bag and hurried out, I lock

his voice cracking with hysteria, while Eleanor shrieked about the missing two and a half milli

beside the heavy wooden baseboard near the clos

popped open wi

underground clinics. I unzipped it quickly, checking the contents with practiced efficiency. Three pre-filled syringes of ketamine, two ampoules of

y compound designed to stave off shock and keep the central nervous system firing

pupils, clearing the fog of exhaustion, and sharpening my vision until

ld gown, letting the torn silk

ants, a snug black compression tank that reinforced the doctor's taping, a heavy dark gray flannel shirt, and a pair of broken

around my waist beneath the flannel, adjusti

the full-l

lock downstairs c

with my ears. The sound grew rapidly, swelling from a distant hum into a deafening, thunderous roar of high-displacement Americ