“You are a bit different than our usual volunteers.”
Cinder eyed him, the metal tool warming in her palm. “Maybe that’s because I didn’t volunteer.”
In a fluid motion, she raised her arm. Targeted his temple. Envisioned him crumpling to the floor.
But she froze, her vision blurring. Her heart rate slowed, the spike of adrenaline gone before her retina display could warn her about it.
Thoughts came to her, sharp and clear amid the syrupy confusion of her brain. He was a simple old man. A frail, helpless old man. With the sweetest, most innocent blue eyes she’d ever seen. She did not want to hurt him.
Her arm trembled.
The little orange light clicked on and she dropped the wrench in surprise. It clattered to the tile floor, but she was too dazed to worry about it.
He hadn’t said anything. How could he be lying?
The doctor didn’t even flinch. His eyes beamed, pleased with Cinder’s reaction. “Please,” he said, fanning his fingers toward the exam table. “Won’t you sit?”
Chapter Eleven
CINDER BLINKED RAPIDLY, TRYING TO DISPEL THE FOG FROM her brain. The orange light in the corner of her vision disappeared—she still had no idea what had caused it.
Maybe the earlier shock to her system had messed with her programming.
The doctor brushed past her and gestured at the holographic image that jutted from the netscreen. “You no doubt recognize this,” he said, sliding his finger along the screen so that the body spun in a lazy circle. “Let me tell you what is peculiar about it.”
Cinder tugged her glove up, pulling the hem over her scar tissue. She scooted toward him. Her foot bumped the wrench, sending it beneath the exam table. “I’d say about 36.28 percent of it is pretty peculiar.”
When Dr. Erland did not face her, she bent and picked the wrench up. It seemed heavier than before. In fact, everything felt heavy. Her hand, her leg, her head.
The doctor pointed to the holograph’s right elbow. “This is where we injected the letumosis-carrying microbes. They were tagged so that we could monitor their progress through your body.” He withdrew the finger, tapping his lip. “Now you see what is peculiar?”
“The fact that I’m not dead, and you don’t seem concerned about being in the same room with me?”
“Yes, in a way.” He faced her, rubbing his head through his wool hat. “As you can see, the microbes are gone.”
Cinder scratched an itch on her shoulder with the wrench. “What do you mean?”
“I mean they are gone. Disappeared. Poof.” He exploded his hands like fireworks.
“So…I don’t have the plague?”
“That’s correct, Miss Linh. You do not have the plague.”
“And I’m not going to die.”
“Correct.”
“And I’m not contagious?”
“Yes, yes, yes. Lovely feeling, isn’t it?”
She leaned against the wall. Relief filled her, but it was followed by suspicion. They had given her the plague, but now she was healed? Without any antidote?
It felt like a trap, but the orange light was nowhere to be seen. He was telling her the truth, no matter how unbelievable it seemed. “Has this happened before?”
An impish grin spread across the doctor’s weathered face. “You are the first. I have some theories about how it could be possible, but I’ll need to run tests, of course.”
He abandoned the holograph and went to the counter, lying out the two vials. “These are your blood samples, one taken before the injection, one after. I am very excited to see what secrets they contain.”