The Watchers by Mark Andrew Olsen Read Free Book Online Page A

We’ve told you everything we could at every step.”
    She’d been hoarding this frustration since shortly after her admittance twenty-one days ago, and it was sweet release now to let it flow. “I don’t believe that. You’ve been managing me all three weeks I’ve been here. My nurses won’t even tell me my temperature without asking your permission.”
    â€œWe’re unsure, that’s all. We’ve been trying to figure things out.”
    â€œBut now you know, I can tell. What is it?”
    He breathed in deeply, ponderously, then out again. “We’re not sure—”
    â€œOh, stop it,” she interrupted, until he held out his hand to stop her.
    â€œAbby, a very aggressive and destructive infection is moving through your body. We’ve never seen anything like it before. We’ve tried to analyze it against every known treatment known to medical science. And frankly, the results so far are inconclusive. But the effects on your body aren’t.”
    He sighed again, and from the corner of her eye she saw her father look down and wipe his eyes.
    â€œAs you already know, your left arm is fully engaged. The infection is traveling along your neural pathways, your nerves, and simply shutting them off. I don’t know how long it will take, but without an effective cure—which we don’t seem to have—it will reach your heart at some point in the near future, your brain soon after that.”
    â€œSay it to me.” Her voice was a mixture of dread and defiance. “Say the words.”
    Finally, he looked straight into her eyes, his gaze clouded with sadness. “You’re going to die, Abby. Very soon. I could give you false hope, and I can truthfully say that we’ll keep trying. But there’s very little hope.”
    She felt her breathing skip somewhere beyond her control, her lungs fight for breath. The room began to sway. Her thoughts suddenly slowed as if unwilling to process the knowledge pounding at the gates of her conscious mind.
    Finally she felt her throat force out a few words.
    â€œSo you’ve done all you can for me.”
    â€œNo. We can give you our very best care. Manage your pain. Increase your comfort immeasurably. I’m so sorry, Abby . . .”
    â€œDoes this have something to do with Narbeli’s murder?”
    He shook his head. “Not directly. But it seems your infection started around the same time. I don’t know how you could have acquired this thing. Only that it’s on the move, and I have no idea how to stop it.”
    She closed her eyes and wished the act could erase the sight of all of them—doctor and family together.
    â€œPretty ironic, isn’t it, Dad?” He looked at her blankly, uncomprehending. “I mean, here you and I have been arguing the last six months over what I should do with my life. How badly I need to figure out what I want to do with my life . And now, it doesn’t even matter. It’s over. Do you think maybe now you and I can start getting along better?”
    He shot her a brokenhearted smile. Blackness replaced the white light and stark expressions, then overtook her.
    THE NEXT DAY
    Abigail awoke to the sight of her father gazing down at her through eyes full of tears. His index finger lay poised atop her hand, grazing it like one afraid to apply too much pressure on a delicate object. Immediately the truth behind his expression burst upon her with an inner sensation like that of being drenched in ice water.
    He was already saying good-bye .
    No doubt about it—her father was weeping with a shocked distance she had only seen him adopt once before: a week and a half prior, after returning from Narbeli’s gravesite. At the time, she had barely possessed the strength to look about and register anyone else’s reactions, for the murder had knocked her into a pall of depression from which she had yet to catch her breath. But her