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  Chapter 4—Rooke

  It was the steady beeping that seeped into Lydia’s consciousness first. The sound of the tinny blips forced her eyes open, and her head turned toward the machine. The screen of the EKG looked down on her, the blips now accompanied by sharp breaks in a steady line. The pace sped up, as if it was announcing “Awake. Awake.”

  Lydia sat up, immediately regretting it when her head spun. She held her temple as she flopped back down against the thin pillow on the hospital bed. Hospital bed. Lydia’s eyes snapped open wider. She was in a clean, sterile hospital room, lying on a raised bed.

  What happened? What’s wrong with me? and How long was I out? flooded her mind. The position of the sun shining through the only window told her that it was afternoon. She looked down at her blue print hospital gown. She wiggled her toes and moved her arms and legs. The purple goo and ridges in her skin were thankfully gone. Aside from her pounding temple, she appeared unhurt. If she was completely honest, Lydia actually felt healthy and strong. However, she did feel as if her skin was being stretched and tugged in all directions.

  She pressed the call button wrapped around the railing of the bed and picked at an itch under one of the EKG sensors attached to her arm. As she was peeling it off, a nurse in blue scrubs entered the room.

  “You’re awake,” the nurse said with mild surprise, walking over and smoothing the sensor back onto Lydia’s arm.

  She noted the woman’s nametag read April.

  “Try not to remove those. It’s for your own benefit. How do you feel?”

  “Fine,” Lydia said. Her stomach grumbled loudly. “And hungry,” she added. “How long was I out? Where am I?”

  “You’re at Hunter Memorial Hospital. You’ve been unconscious for twenty-four hours,” April replied, pulling a stethoscope from one of her large pockets. She reached into the nightstand beside the bed and produced a blood pressure cuff from one of the drawers. “Dr. Brown predicted you would be out for that long. We’ll get you something to eat, but I need to take your vitals, alright?”

  Lydia nodded. April set to work, checking her pulse, blood pressure, and confirming the EKG reading by listening to her heart. When she finished, she fluffed the pillow and stowed the cuff. “Everything seems normal,” she said. She slung the stethoscope around her neck. “I’ll get you some food and tell your parents you’re awake. They just left to get some lunch down in the cafeteria.”

  “Can you tell me what happened?” Lydia asked. All she could recall was a box falling, before everything became a blank. Had it fallen on her? Do I have a concussion?

  “Some of the chemicals at Rooke Pharmaceuticals splashed you and were absorbed through your skin,” April said. Suddenly, Lydia’s mind unlocked the memory and she remembered everything. She ran through it piece by piece as the nurse continued. “We haven’t received a clear report of what the chemicals were. Rooke says there was nothing harmful in the crate, but we’re running a few tests and should have the results back later today. Dr. Brown was going to discuss the results with your parents, but since you’re conscious, he can let you know as well. He can answer any more questions you have about what happened to you. For now, try to get some rest.”

  “Alright,” Lydia said, nodding as the woman left the room. The images of her stained skin and her attempt to rub off the chemicals played over and over in her mind. She remembered that Mark had also been splashed by some unknown liquids as well. She wondered if Dariela or Richard had also.

  The thought of tests did little to alleviate her worry, even though April had presented it in a warm, consoling manner. If anything, it heightened her fear that something might be wrong. Lydia felt completely well. She was restless and wanted to be sure there was nothing wrong with her. The only thing she could come up with to test herself was to try walking around.

  She sat up, ignoring her dizziness, and swung her legs to the side of the bed. Lydia ripped off the EKG sensors, trying to block out the monitor’s whining complaint. She sat on the edge of the bed, fists pressed into the mattress as she gulped down air. “One, two, three!” she counted, pushing her weight off the bed and onto her feet. Her first steps were a little wobbly, but when she adjusted herself and spread her legs apart, she stood proud and tall. “See?” she said to herself. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

  Lydia felt a little steadier and stepped forward. Then her head betrayed her and she twirled around the room, out of control. She swayed, losing her balance, and began to slip on the clean white floor. She reached out for something, anything to prevent her fall. Her left hand wrapped around the pole of the EKG machine and she squeezed.

  Lydia held tightly to the pole and breathed heavily, trying to regain her balance. Slowly, she returned to the bed. Only her left hand throbbed painfully. Sitting on the edge, she stared down at her legs. She gasped at how toned and large they were, as thick as those of an athlete. She looked at her arms and gaped at the bulging muscles. They looked like she’d been lifting weights for years. Lydia couldn’t remember the last time she picked up a weight. Was that part of a vein near her wrist? She assumed the physical change must have been why her skin was so taut.

  But the EKG machine soon caught her attention. Or rather the pole that she’d grabbed. The one-inch-thick metal cylinder that held up the monitor was pinched shut, with finger impressions in between thin ridges. Lydia looked at her hand, turning it over and over, unable to believe she was capable of such a thing. She sensed she was strong, but not that strong. There was no possible way she had pinched the metal, yet there was no other explanation for it. She was sure it hadn’t been there before, for why would the doctors use a damaged EKG? The machine was already top-heavy, and the monitor looked like it was about to fall. She touched the metal, lining up her fingers with the impressions to be sure. They were a perfect match.

  Lydia lay back down, already forming a reason why she removed the sensors. Bathroom, she nodded to herself. But the EKG was another matter entirely. She turned her head to it, staring at the bent metal. How could she explain that to anyone when she couldn’t explain it even to herself?

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