“That’s long enough,” I said, hoping that it was. I didn’t feel much pain inside that cast. I would have liked to leave it on to be certain, but I knew I couldn’t run with that thing. Of course, if I cracked the bone again I would be crippled. I breathed through my teeth as she began sawing.
It didn’t take long. When she’d made the cut, I reached out and cracked the cast wide open with my hands. Inside the fiberglass and cotton, my leg was pale and crisscrossed with black sutures. I lifted my leg out and placed it gently on the floor. I leaned down with increasing weight. It tingled, but it held.
“See?” I said.
“I can’t understand how you can walk on it. And there were more fractures, ribs mostly.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “Now, take me to the doctor’s office. We’ll wait there.”
Miranda looked at me uncertainly. “What do you intend to do?”
“Find out what the hell is going on—starting with why I’m here.”
Dr. Meng’s office was totally unlike the rest of the sanatorium I’d seen thus far. There were expensive paintings, a high wall of real books in a cherry wood bookcase and thickly padded chairs of shiny leather. I sat myself behind the cherry wood desk and threw my sickly looking leg on top of it, knocking aside a tablet computer, an elaborate phone, and a cup bristling with gold pens.
“Nice setup,” I said, looking around.
“I’ve got to go back to my station now,” Miranda said, taking a step toward the door.
I shook my head. “No way.”
She halted, looking at me sidelong. “If I’m away for much longer, someone will notice and come looking for me.”
“They won’t come in here.”
She hesitated. “Well, what about Ron? I need to give him first aid at least.”
“Ron’s asleep and doesn’t care about that right now.”
Her shoulders slumped as she realized I wasn’t letting her go. I still had the pistol in my hand, aimed at the ceiling.
“You really are a bastard. Has anyone ever told you that?” she asked.
I reflected on it for a moment, but couldn’t recall. “Probably,” I admitted. I picked up Dr. Meng’s tablet computer and pecked at it.
“Pull my records up on this thing, will you?” I asked.
“Do I have any choice?”
“We always have choices,” I said, waving the pistol in the air a little.
The nurse tapped at the screen angrily and shoved it back at me. She looked at the clock nervously. It was ten minutes to six.
“I see,” I said, studying my own record. I was determined to recall details. There weren’t many; apparently I was as blank a slate to these people as I was to myself. There was no prior address, no employer listed, and no primary care physician. No relatives were in the records either. There was only a list of injuries and operations, followed by a link to a billing record. I tapped at that, but was blocked by another password.
“Sign me in so I can read my billing records, please,” I said.
Miranda shook her head. “Sorry. I don’t have the password for that.”
I believed her, and since it was almost time for the infamous Dr. Meng to make her entrance, I figured it didn’t matter much anyway.
“What’s Dr. Meng like?” I asked.
Miranda smiled prettily, but I thought I saw something mean behind that smile. “She’s tough,” she said.
I frowned at her, not liking the way she looked at me. It was as if she thought revenge was near, and it was going to be sweet.
Dr. Meng arrived in a whirlwind of energy at precisely 6:03 a.m. She was a small Asian woman with short black hair and flashing eyes. She appeared much younger than I had expected for a doctor in a management position at an institution like this one. Late thirties, if I had to guess. She wore the traditional white lab coat over professional-looking clothing. She didn’t seem to notice me at first, despite the fact I still had an injured leg thrown over her desk and a pistol in my hand.
“There you are, nurse,” Dr. Meng said in irritation. “Why are you in my office and away from your station?”
Miranda made a silent sweep of her hand, indicating me. Dr. Meng followed her gesture and curled her lip upon seeing me. She walked quickly into the room and began picking up the objects I’d knocked onto the floor. She moved with rapid, irritable motions.
“You’ve made quite a mess,” she said.
“I have a few questions for you, Doctor.”
Meng straightened and looked at me with her head cocked to one side. “I’m not really surprised to find you out of your room and pestering my staff. You always were a rude guest, Draith.”
It was my turn to frown. “Have I been here before?” I asked, reluctantly giving away that I had amnesia. I figured it was a secret I couldn’t keep forever anyway. If she knew me and I didn’t remember her, faking it was going to be quite hard. I had the faint hope she was a friend of some kind, but I didn’t get the feeling that our prior relationship was cordial. There was no warmth in her toward me, no friendly greeting.
She put her hands on her hips and tilted her head farther. Then, she slowly nodded. “If you are who you appear to be, then it must have been the accident.”