The Search for Artemis (The Chronicles of Landon Wicker) by P. D. Griffith Read Free Book Online Page B

sidewall. Resting on the bench was a clean towel and a set of pure white clothes and on the floor was a pair of white slippers. Everything was perfectly set out, waiting for his arrival.
    He heard the door shut behind him, and when he turned, he saw someone he didn’t recognize. He starred into a mirror, gazing at a shadow of himself. The weeks on the streets had hardened him. His naiveté and innocence were stripped away and replaced with instinct and loneliness. His face looked worn from numerous sleepless nights trying to get comfortable on the asphalt or a bench. His shirt, which once was a warm yellow, was now some semblance of brown and black, with tiny holes that bore their way through the fabric around the shoulders and back. Dirt and grime coated his face, leaving no piece of skin untarnished. He ran his fingers through his dark brown hair. It was long and unruly, tangled and matted into a heap of greasy dreadlocks.
    “Landon? Is everything all right?” Dr. Márquez asked, speaking loud enough so that Landon could hear him through the closed door. His voice drew him back to the present. It seemed like he’d been staring at himself for hours, dumbfounded by the battered doppelgänger staring back at him. “Please be quick. We have quite a few tests to run.”
    “Oh yes, everything’s fine.” Landon reached into the shower stall and turned on the hot water before he started to undress.
    When Landon reopened the glass door, steam exuded from the shower stall. Landon hesitantly stepped into the stream of running water. It felt like a blanket that was just pulled out of a hot dryer. It was comforting and familiar. It was amazing. As he washed himself, he felt as if he was slowly shedding off pieces of his harsh reality and watching them swirl down the drain. Like a time machine, it slowly peeled back the days, erasing the remnants of dirty streets, of the sweat from his bloodcurdling race through the city, and of the countless nights rolling around on asphalt. As he bathed, he was transported back to the normalcy of his life before everything happened. He was back in his room, listening to music on his bed, dreading the end of the summer. He could smell his mother’s delicious cooking as she prepared dinner. He even welcomed the memory of his father sitting on the couch yelling at the television.
    He meticulously cleaned himself, ensuring that he removed every speck of dirt from his body. He even washed his hair four times, not satisfied with its cleanliness until it squeaked under his fingertips. The entire process took quite a while longer than he anticipated, and after that shower, Landon felt so relaxed and rejuvenated that all of his worries became a distant memory from where he was at that moment.
    With his towel around his waist, he walked over and sat on the bench, staring at the set of white clothes beside him. He grabbed the top garment and pulled it toward him. It was surprisingly soft compared to what he had expected. Meticulously sterilized clothing didn’t really give Landon much hope.
    He unfolded the shirt and began to pull it on, but as he threaded his arms through the sleeves, he started to feel uneasy. What is going on here? What is this place? To Landon, everything happened so quickly and so strangely. He obeyed these random people who said they could help him, but he had no idea what he was going to find out, or if they were really going to help at all. With a loud knock on the door, Landon was startled back into reality.
    “How’re you doing?” Dr. Márquez asked through the door.
    “I’m . . . I’m fine,” Landon replied. “I’ll be out in a second.”
    Landon stood up and finished changing his clothing, donning the white drawstring pants, loose shirt and awkward slippers. Upon re-entering the hallway, Dr. Márquez was waiting, now with a clipboard in hand.
    “Shall we?” Dr. Márquez asked rhetorically.
    Over the next few hours, Landon was taken through a series of exams. As