Gather the Sentient by Amalie Jahn Read Free Book Online Page B

pencil from behind his ear.  He asked her several questions about the nursing staff and the quality of the meals.  And then he got to the actual reason for his visit.
    “What do you think aided in your healing process the most?” he asked, pencil poised above the paper.
    She paused for a moment, considering the question while she eyed him skeptically from the bed.
    “Is that really a question?” she scoffed.
    He held his hands up, shrugging.  “I don’t write ‘em, I just ask ‘em,” he sang, although he couldn’t help but be impressed by her astute observation.
    “Okay, then,” she said thoughtfully.  “I guess I was in really rough shape when I came in.  They tell me I was in a coma, and I overheard my mother telling my aunt on the phone yesterday the doctors told her when I got here they thought I was going to die.  So one minute I was dying, and the next minute I was awake and recovering.  That was it.  Apparently I haven’t been experiencing any of the symptoms typically associated with a head trauma.  They keep asking me about headaches and checking my speech.  They keep doing this eye thing with a light and asking memory questions, as if I wouldn’t know what year it was or what my brother’s name is.”  She rolled her eyes.  “Anyway, it seems to me that what aided my healing process was a miracle, you know?  I don’t think anything any of the doctors or nurses did made me better.  They just kept me alive and then, boom, I wasn’t dying anymore.”
    Jose smiled at her, letting the truth of her words wash over him.
    “Are you going to write that down?” she asked.
    He shook himself out of his trance.  “Oh, yeah.  Of course.”  He jotted down a few random notes – ‘miracle,’ ‘alive,’ and ‘recovery.’  As he finished, she spoke again.
    “Do you believe in miracles?” she whispered.
    He lifted his eyes from the paper and gazed into hers.  The joy was unmistakable.
    “I do,” he replied.
    She ran her hand absentmindedly over the gauze on her head.  “I’m really happy to be alive.  I watched a TV show once about a man who cheated death and then he vowed to use his life in the service of good.”  She paused and began to pick at the edge of the bandage on her arm where her IV had once been.  “Maybe that’s what I’ll do too.  You know, help feed homeless kids or try really hard in science class so I can find a cure for cancer.”
    He slipped his pencil behind his ear and stood up, satisfied Chloe wouldn’t waste her second chance.  “I think you should get back on your horse and make the best of your life,” he told her.  “Thanks for answering my questions and be careful out there, okay?”
    She waved at him.  “I will,” she laughed.

 
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER
    8
     
    PATRICK
     
     
    Monday, August 29
    London
     
    Everything was in place for Patrick’s first communication with Akantha.  Knowing she was wildly misunderstood in her own community, he hoped to inspire a sense of peace and understanding with regard to her assimilation into his group.  For the prophecy to be fulfilled, they would have to be together, each of the seven, in the same space.  This meant fostering her commitment to their cause and defusing her anger, at least as it pertained to them.
    “It’s been too long, Patrick,” Wesley said as he strolled into the conference room on the 32 nd floor of the Heron Building in London’s financial district, the space which served as headquarters for Patrick’s bevy of global corporations.
    “Good to see you.”  He rose from his chair to greet Wesley with a handshake, overcome as always by the Australian’s massive frame. 
    “Any hostility from the Brazilian Beast today?”
    Patrick wasn’t amused by Wesley’s moniker for the newest member of their group, but chose not to make it an issue.  He’d learned early on he could take the man out of Australia but couldn’t take Australia out of the man.  “Since I’ve