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  “The neural damage was gone when you ran the scans a few hours after he woke up,” Aunt Tabitha said.

  “Again, it would be easier to give you answers if he came in for his weekly checkups like he was supposed to.” The nurse tilted her head and stared at Tabitha. “Why didn’t you bring him in? Surely, you knew his recovery wasn’t typical, especially after the media coverage from other cases.”

  “He didn’t want to do it, and I didn’t want to make him. He had been poked and prodded and scanned so much over the past few years that I thought it was enough, and just wanted to give him a normal life.” Aunt Tabitha looked at the floor. “I had my husband back fully and completely, for the first time in nearly seven years. I wanted for us to have our life together back.”

  “We thought he was better,” Kalea said softly.

  The nurse nodded sympathetically. “He was, but he isn’t anymore.” She paused, laying the computer back on the workstation. “There’s nothing more I can tell you now. I called Mr. Carson’s doctor. There’s been word of other similar cases across the country, and he’s trying to get data from them to help. He should be in tonight. In the meantime, he suggested that you make arrangements for Mr. Carson to transfer back to nursing care once he’s released from here.”

  “Nursing care!” Aunt Tabitha shouted. “But he’s fine. He’s recovered.”

  Kalea put her hand over Aunt Tabitha’s. “I’m sorry Aunt Tabitha, but you heard her. He isn’t recovered. Not anymore.”

  Aunt Tabitha stood and walked away, sobbing. Kalea leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “I knew he missed that first scan, but I didn’t know he missed all of them.” She blew out a long sigh. “What do you think? Is this a relapse, or something else?”

  The nurse threw up her hands. “I don’t know. Everything is crazy with his case. I really wish he had come in for those scans. It would have taken less than fifteen minutes.”

  Kalea rubbed her head. “Now what do we do?”

  The nurse shrugged. “Wait and see.”

  Chapter 10

  “Psychiatric care!” Annaliese snapped at the doctor, a middle age man with blonde hair and blue eyes. “He’s not crazy!”

  Dr. Raymond Mercer rubbed his weary eyes. It was eleven o’clock Friday evening and he had been poring over scans, studies, messages, and notes for nearly thirteen hours. “I’m not saying he’s crazy, Dr. Boyce, and you know that. This is a highly unusual case, and after studying the material and speaking to the people at the nursing facility, we feel that a psychiatric institution is better suited to attend to your father’s needs. They have the resources and equipment Mr. Carson needs to study his case properly.”

  Annaliese leaned back, crossing her legs. “You’ll drug him into a coma until the dementia kills him. That’s all they do for senior citizens.”

  “That’s not true,” Dr. Mercer said. “If anything, they’re in a position to get better information and treatment options than a nursing home would.” He looked at Annaliese sympathetically. “We all want the best for your father and your entire family. In fact,” he tapped his computer. “I’d also like to suggest that your cousin, Kalea, be under psychiatric care. As an outpatient, of course.”

  Annaliese stared at the doctor coldly. “What’s she done?”

  “She was in here less than a week ago after sending enough electricity through a young man to short-circuit a city. He’s still in a coma, and she has no memory of it. That experience, combined with her miraculous healing after your father recovered five weeks ago -- we’re interested in her.”

  Annaliese laughed. “Kalea has always been the most interesting of all of us, but that hardly warrants psychiatric care. She has a big personality.” She leaned back and crossed her arms. “I saw the footage of her interview, and there was a lot of electricity in that room. She showed me the blueprints of the work she did. That guy was shooting up equipment all over the room, too. It’s possible he did something that caused that to happen.”

  Dr. Mercer spread his hands. “I’m not dismissing any possibilities. We noticed that both she and your father healed, but she’s going one way, and he’s going the other.”

  “I fail to see the correlation between their conditions,” Annaliese said darkly.

  “We aren’t certain that there is one,” he said, “but did she tell you that all of her physical ailments disappeared after your father recovered? Not just her foot. Her allergies, her migraines, a scar from surgery as a child, and even some scar tissue from tendinitis that she had in her right wrist three years ago is gone.”

  “She didn’t mention that.”

  “Similar things are happening in the other cases where there was a ‘miracle recovery.’ The person that came back from the brink of death is dying again, and the person that witnessed it is in peak health and doing unusual things.” He raised an eyebrow. “I hear one of them drove to D.C. from Raleigh to speak with you on a similar case last week. Don’t tell me you didn’t know about this. It’s all over the news.”

  Annaliese uncrossed her arms. “My client files are as confidential as yours.”

  “I’m not asking you to share anything that would be an ethical violation.” He spread his hands. “I offered general information on your cousin that I probably shouldn’t have. Can’t you tell me something about this case that literally came to your door?”

  Annaliese stared at the doctor. “I’m not sharing anything with you at all because it’s too soon to make anything out of it.” She paused, listening to the clock over the doctor’s desk tick. “Are any of these others under psychiatric care?”

  Dr. Mercer bristled. “Some are; some aren’t.”

  Annaliese fiddled with her diamond necklace. “Mom and Kalea have to give the final word on this.”

  “Your mother isn’t keen on having your father put in a psychiatric institution. I was hoping you could talk to her about the benefits of round the clock care in a facility that specializes in mental health issues, especially since dementia is a completely neurological issue.” He leaned back. “They do have geriatric units, and there’s one relatively close to the estate where you live,” he checked his computer. “Creekside Care.”

  Annaliese nodded. “I did my doctoral work there. It’s a good place.” She sighed, dropping her necklace. “I volunteer to serve as the primary psychiatrist.”

  He stared at Annaliese. “For your father or Kalea?”

  “Both of them.”

  “Is that wise, considering your relationship with them? I thought you preferred to have a ‘disinterested third party’ to oversee psychiatric care.”

  “We do, but this seems to be organic in nature. There’s no mood disorder, psychological trauma, or abuse in these cases. Besides, it would take somebody else too long to catch up on their cases. I’ve known both of them my whole life, so there’s no better historical knowledge on the patients than firsthand experience. I’ll oversee and consult on their care.” She paused. “It’s probably the only way they’ll agree to it. I’ll stay here as long as I can, and do the rest remotely.”

  Dr. Mercer shrugged and snapped his computer closed. “I don’t like it. I suppose it will be all right as long as you have on-site doctors working with you.”

  Annaliese stared at him coldly again. “It has to be.”

  Chapter 11

  “Psychiatric care?” Carson said, bewildered. “I’m not crazy. I’m fine. I’m healed, and I want to go home.”

  Dr. Mercer, Tabitha, Annaliese, and Kalea looked at one other in the darkened room. It was a sunny fall Saturday outside, punctuated by the muffled sounds of a college football game from the television across the hall. “Mr. Carson,” the doctor said, “our scans indicate that there’s been deterioration in your neural connections over the past five weeks. You aren’t healed anymore. In fact, we suspect you relapsed. A psychiatric hospital would be the best place to figure out what happened, and why.”

  “They’ve already done some testing on me too, Uncle C
arson,” Kalea said, “and I agreed to regular outpatient monitoring.”

  Carson stared at her. “Why?”

  “Because of what happened at that interview last week.”

  Carson’s eyes narrowed. “What interview? There haven’t been any interviews. Why would there be interviews?”

  “You did an interview with a major news show a month ago with Kalea, remember?” Annaliese asked. “You were the first one this happened to, and they talked to you about it. We can stream it for you, if you like.”

  “And I did another interview for work last week, and a man tried to shoot up the auditorium,” Kalea said. “I stopped him, but don’t remember doing it. It’s been all over the Internet.”

  “I think you’re trying to trick me,” Carson said.

  Whistles and shouts came from the television across the hall after an unfavorable call, drowning out Annaliese’s low groan.

  “Why would we do that?” Aunt Tabitha asked. “We love you. We want you to get better.”

  “Then where’s Avery? Where’s my son? If he loves me, why isn’t he here?”

  “He does love you, Daddy, but he can’t get away from work,” Annaliese said. “Something happened with the Earth satellites. In fact, his boss is flying to D.C. to meet with Kieran to ask Congress for extra funding.”

  “Who’s Kieran?” Carson asked.

  “My husband. He’s a lawyer and a Senator representing the State.”

  Carson snorted. “I don’t understand why Avery can’t drive here to see his father. It’s not that far.”

  “Avery’s in Houston.”

  “What’s he doing there?”

  “He lives there,” Annaliese said.

  “Why?”

  “He works for the Space Exploration Society. The job he got was out there.”

  There were more shouts from the television across the hall. Carson looked at it, then back at the family. “What’s that?”

  “A football game,” Kalea said. “If you’ll agree to the move, they’ll leave you alone to watch it yourself while they get ready to transfer you.”

  “Why are they playing football on a Tuesday?”

  Tabitha sunk in her chair, softly sobbing. Annaliese stood by her mother and patted her on the back.

  “Avery played football. He did pretty good,” Carson said.

  “Avery played baseball, Daddy,” Annaliese said, “Earl, your business partner before you retired, had a son that played football.”

  Carson squinted at Kalea. “You did something with sports too, didn’t you?”

  “Granddaddy taught me archery, remember? He bought me a real bow after he caught me chasing squirrels through your yard with the suction cup arrows when I was seven. I’m an assistant coach for the high school.”

  “Daddy, she won two gold medals in the Summer Olympics two years after getting her Master’s degree,” Annaliese said.

  “You do so well. You’re like another daughter to me.” Carson’s face fell. “I don’t understand why my son isn’t here. Why won’t he help me? You women won’t let me do anything! You think everything is going to kill me when I’m just trying to be a responsible man and serve my purpose in the world.”

  Kalea took a deep breath, stifling a laugh from her uncle’s personality bleeding through the dementia. He used to say that a lot when they worried over him stressing himself out with too much work. “Uncle Carson, Avery will be here as soon as he can. He’s very upset that he can’t be here right now, but I’m keeping in good contact with him. He knows what’s happening and will be here soon.”

  “Avery has a perfectly good home here on the family estate. He should be here with the family, where he belongs.” Carson sat up in bed. “I should be back at home myself. Doctor, take this stuff off me. I’m going home.”

  “Mr. Carson, you haven’t been released,” Dr. Mercer said, “and since you didn’t come in for your weekly checkups, we need more tests and evaluations to determine what’s happening with you before you can go home. That’s why we were talking about the psychiatric hospital.”

  “I won’t go.”

  “It’s temporary,” Aunt Tabitha said. “You’ll be there a few weeks, maybe a month at the most. Don’t you want to get well?”

  “I am well!” Carson shouted. “I’m fine. I don’t know why I’m in this place. I think you want to get rid of me so you can get my money and go wild with it. Well, I won’t have it!”

  More yells erupted from the television across the hall. The team was first and goal.

  “Uncle Carson,” Kalea leaned toward him, speaking softly. “They want to check me too, and I’ve agreed. I’m going to the hospital and seeing the same doctors you are. But they need to see us both to figure out what’s happening. You aren’t going to make me do this by myself, are you?” She squeezed his hand. “I really would like for you to be there with me.”

  Carson stared at Kalea for a moment. “It’s to help you?”

  Kalea nodded. “It’s to help both of us.”

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  Kalea shrugged. “Nobody knows. That’s why they want both of us to see the doctors. Come on, Uncle Carson. Mom and Dad are in Tennessee, and you’re the only one that can help me.”

  Carson grunted. “Well, if it helps little Kalea get better, then I’ll do it. We want her to grow up to be a good, strong girl, don’t we?”

  “Thank you,” she stood and shook her hand from where he squeezed it.

  Dr. Mercer nodded. “I’ll have the nurse get the paperwork together for both of you to sign.” He motioned toward the hallway. “Mr. Carson, get some rest and we’ll take care of everything. I think you’ll be out of here soon.”

  They stepped in the hall, all breathing sighs of relief as groans erupted from the television on a missed pass in the end zone. Annaliese patted Kalea on the back. “Well done. Maybe you should have been the psychiatrist.”

  “I’ve seen him like this before,” Kalea mumbled. She looked at Dr. Mercer. “I’m not a fan of it, but can nanotech help him?”

  He shook his head. “The damage is too progressive. Besides, the insurance wouldn’t have covered it even if we caught it sooner. They consider it a ‘relapse’ of a former condition.”

  “A relapse?” Aunt Tabitha asked.

  Dr. Mercer nodded. “They decided that after all the cancer patients recovered and then died a month later.”

  “What do we do?” Annaliese asked. “Is there any hope for him to recover, or to find relief from this?”

  He shrugged. “We’ve done all we can here. His best bet is the psychiatric hospital. Maybe they can find something that nobody else has yet.” He patted Aunt Tabitha’s shoulder. “Who knows? Maybe we’ll see another miracle.”

  “Touchdown!” the television shouted amidst wild cheers.

  Tabitha smiled. “Maybe we will.”

  Kalea leaned against the wall. “I hope it’s the kind of miracle we want.”

  Chapter 12

  There was space, and there was time. This place looked like home, but something about it was strangely off, as if it were skewed. The ceilings looked higher. The walls looked longer. The hallways stretched on endlessly, ending in nothing. They just continued.

  “Tabitha?” Carson called.

  Some awareness remains, but how much?

  I don’t know. They mentioned Stage Five. Aren’t there seven stages?

  Yes, he doesn’t have much longer left.

  “Who is it? Who’s there?” Carson asked. He tried to lift off the bed, but couldn’t. He was stuck, held down, but by what? He looked down and saw nothing but the thin, white blanket the nurse laid over him –-- when? Was it recently? Was it hours ago? Was it days ago? Where was he? What time was it?

  The time is almost at an end. This vessel didn’t work. It lasted longer than the others, the ones with four stages, but it’s failing. What happened?

  Terminal.

  Carson heard it and shuddered at the word. They thought he di
dn’t hear them, but he knew that was the word they whispered in the hall; in their homes; in their souls. They thought he was going to die.

  “No, I came back! I was saved! You saved me! What happened? Why am I here?” he shouted soundlessly.

  Light surrounded him, pulsating. “We failed. These vessels were too weak. They were already damaged from the rigors of life. Only the secondaries remain. They are intact. They grow as these fade.

  What will happen when these vessels perish?

  Only time will tell.

  How much time do we have?

  “Time,” Carson muttered, “I thought I had more time. I live, though I should have died weeks ago. I have hope.”

  What an interesting concept, this hope. What is it?

  Carson’s lips stretched in a thin smile. “Hope is the thing with feathers.”

  I thought you called those birds.

  Not all that flies has feathers.

  Like bats.

  Or insects.

  Or airplanes.

  Don’t confuse me.

  “I’m not confused!” Carson snapped. “I’m alive, and I will live.”

  No, my friend, I’m sorry. We wanted to give you this hope that you speak of, but it turns out that you don’t have feathers after all.

  The ceiling and walls shrank as the light faded into nothing.

  Chapter 13

  “We have to transfer him now,” Dr. Mercer said, running his hands through his messy hair.

  “I thought you said it would be tomorrow before Creekside was ready for him,” Aunt Tabitha said, sitting perfectly erect in her chair across the desk from the doctor.

  “He woke up at three thirty-three this morning screaming, and sedatives aren’t working. We had to restrain him.”

  “This is outrageous!”

  “I’ll say,” he said. “He’s put bruises on four of our nurses, and threw his breakfast tray and bedside table at two orderlies.” He sighed. “We don’t have what we need here to take care of him. He has to move now. The ambulance is on the way to transport him.”