When We Were Still Human Read online

  Megan put her head in her hands. “And I don’t even want to work with old people when I graduate! I’ll be in delivery!”

  “Well, you’ll still have to deal with the mothers who are literally getting split open,” Britt said. “Believe me, you would rather have a dozen of those old ladies than deal with me when I was pushing Taylor out two years ago.” She shivered, then took a sip of her drink.

  “At least you’d be too drugged up to fight me,” Megan muttered. “Wow, Val. They not feed you during the interrogation last night?”

  Val looked down to see three burger wrappers, the box for the chicken sandwich, and a now empty nuggets carton. She blinked in surprise, then shrugged. “I guess I’m just really hungry.”

  “I guess so,” Britt laughed. “I’ve never seen you eat more than half a sandwich. You have the stomach of a mouse.”

  “Hey!” Val protested. “I deserve it. Plus, I’m going running tonight so it all evens out.” She shot her friend a mischievous smile, then proceeded to bag up the trash. “Now if you'll excuse me, I need to, um... ‘recover from my trauma’ and ‘rest from the shock.’" She added heavy air quotes.

  “Whatever!” Megan called, standing up and pushing back her chair.

  “Maybe you should go with her.” Britt smirked then bumped Megan on the arm. “She’s injured. She might need some help getting dressed.”

  Laughing at the ensuing argument, Val waved goodbye then strode back towards the hospital.

  Chapter 2

  Slamming the locker shut, Val shoved her scrubs into her bag with a sigh. She rubbed her temples and took a deep, focused breath. Maybe her dad was right. She needed a real day off. The odd part was that she still wasn’t entirely sure what had happened. There was a hazy image of passing security and police officers. A nurse cleaning up her forehead; basic concussion tests... Then came the droves of security and hospital officials, clip boards, and forms.

  Quick footsteps snatched her attention back to the locker room. A feeling of déjà vu rushed over. It was dark… Wind was hitting her face. Running. She was running somewhere and—”

  “Val!”

  Snapping back, Val lifted her head to see a teary-eyed Patricia running towards her.

  “Val, you’re okay!”

  Before she could react, the nurse had lunged down and wrapped her in an ever-familiar bear hug.

  “The Mom of the West Wing.”

  Last year on Val’s birthday, Patricia had baked her an entire box of oatmeal raisin cookies—her favorite. It was also Patricia who took her out the year prior, before she even turned twenty-one.

  “Mija, I can’t let you get alcohol poisoning on your birthday! I’ll show you how to drink right!”

  “Hey, Patricia,” Val managed, awkwardly patting her back a few times. She loosened her grip and they straightened up. Patricia wiped tears. Val bit down guilt. The woman was this shaken on her behalf.

  Patricia chewed her lip and shook her head in a daze. “I’m sorry, I should have been there. You left before I could do anything. I didn’t know what happened, no one else saw you—then this!”

  Her hands moved as fast as her mouth—typical Patricia—then ran through her dark, greying curls. Her shoulders racked with heavy sobs. Val couldn’t quite ignore the feeling that she was missing something.

  “Then last night…”

  Val puzzled at the word then, but stayed silent.

  “I don’t know what Tyler was thinking, leaving you with a patient alone. Student nurses are always supposed to have a supervisor. Always! I was off. I could’ve worked the double, but after that Wednesday morning—”

  Morning?

  “I thought I was going crazy from the hours. If I had been there, this wouldn't have happened.” She motioned to the gauze around Val’s forehead.

  “Don’t worry about it…” Val firmly took the woman’s hands .“Stuff like this happens.” She tried to reassure Patricia with the same smile she’d given to patients, but now the nurse looked confused.

  “Val, I thought you died.”

  Val stared dumbfounded. She played the sentence over. “I’m sorry?”

  “You don’t remember? Ay, Dios mío, Dios mío…” Patricia grabbed her head, rising to her feet as she quickly paced the room. “Val, yesterday morning you stumbled in here half dead. Your clothes were torn to shreds and you were soaked in blood.”

  “No, Patricia…” Val’s mouth went dry. She had no idea what the nurse was talking about, but she was starting to scare her. Blood? Cuts? It was impossible. “I woke up and…”

  And what? What about that morning? She had woken up at noon—five hours later than normal—then barely made it to her shift on time. But before that? She racked her brain and a chill shot down her spine.

  She couldn’t remember anything.

  “I- I remember the library, Tuesday night…” she stammered, trying to wet her tongue and force words to form. “I got back to my apartment at…around seven. I needed to go running?”

  Val looked down at her wrist. The Fitbit was gone. She hadn’t taken it off in days, not even when she went to sleep. She stumbled back into the lockers. She felt heavy. It was like her body was a boulder, rapidly crushing in on itself. Her hands shook and every bead of sweat crawled over her skin like a wet film.

  She took a deep breath. “That was a day ago, Patricia.” She tried to keep her voice even. “Why- why am I just hearing about this now?”

  “You just ran out!” Patricia muttered something in Spanish, then gave an exasperated sigh. “No one else saw you come in, and when I went to security, they couldn’t find any evidence of what I was telling them. I tried calling, but it went straight to voicemail. I didn’t know if I was going crazy or…”

  Patricia’s voice faded as Val fought to remember what had happened. Breathing was a concerted effort. The short gasps at each rise and fall of her chest managed to provide oxygen, but it wasn’t enough. She pressed tighter against the cold lockers. Something. There had to be something.

  “Vital capacity-— The amount of air that moves in, plus the amount that moves out with maximum effort”

  “Val, remember to call Aunt Macy on her birthday, okay?”

  Air. Warm air hitting her face. She was running. There was something else, something—

  “Val.”

  She opened her eyes to Patricia gently placing a hand on her shoulder. “There are some detectives outside. I don’t know how, but they managed to find some strange footage. It was probably the interns on shift, slacking off... They want to ask you a few questions. I said I’d see if you were up for it, but if not, I can tell them to leave. You’ve already— Today’s already been—”

  “It’s fine.” The words came from her mouth, but they felt a million miles away. Running. The only thing she could remember was running… Stepping past Patricia, Val picked up her bag and walked to the door.

  As the nurse had promised, two men in sports coats and jeans were waiting in the hall.

  “Detectives?”

  “Good evening, Miss Stephens,” the taller one with the blond beard said. “I’m Detective Ericson.” His eyes were kind, but there was a concern behind them in how he looked her over. She turned to the other to see the same expression.

  “Detective Omar,” the second one offered. He extended a firm hand and Val shook. There was an odd silence after she stepped back and the detective cleared his throat. “If it’s alright,” he continued, “can we ask you a couple questions about the man who attacked you and your colleagues yesterday?”

  “Um.” Val looked over her shoulder to Patricia, then to the second detective, but neither gave anything away. “I already gave a statement to the hospital yesterday.”

  “Yes, we understand,” Ericson said. There was compassion in his voice. Whether rehearsed from the job or genuine, Val couldn’t tell. Regardless, he seemed to be struggling for words himself. “But that was before we could access the tape.”

  “What tape?” Again
, she couldn’t read either of their faces. It was clear they were trying to gauge hers as well, but all parties came up blank.

  “I think it’d be easier if you came with us to the security room,” Detective Omar said gently. Val turned to Patricia, who was trying her best to muster a smile.

  “It’s okay, Val. I’ll be right here when you’re done.”

  Turning back, Val nodded to the men and followed them away from the locker room. The hospital suddenly seemed more menacing than before. The bright lights felt unnatural and the clicking of the detectives’ shoes echoed eerily down the empty corridor. They passed a few nurses’ stations and open doors, but no one spoke. It was like a ghost had come through and yanked out everyone’s vocal cords, leaving them to awkwardly stare or feign occupation with other matters.

  They reached the elevator. Ericson opened his mouth to say something, then shut it again. Apparently small talk hadn’t been on the academy’s syllabus.

  Within minutes, they were standing in a small room lined wall to wall with monitors. The quiet whirring filled the air with an ambience that created the feeling of being in a spy movie. Not Bonds, those were overrated, but something more down to earth. One of the films where a normal person gets sucked into some top-secret hero role.

  But Val was no hero. Whatever happened was creeping over her shoulders, running tendril- like fingers, or claws, or something just as disturbing over her skin.

  “Can you show Miss Stephens what you showed us?”

  Val looked down to see a scrawny kid, no more than eighteen, sitting at the control seat. The tech nodded, clicked some keys, then moused over to a file in a folder marked with the previous day's date.

  Val stared at the screen as ice pooled in the center of her stomach. Unable to speak, she watched herself stumble through the rear staff doors and collapse. Her clothes were torn and splattered with dark red. Leaves and sticks stuck out of matted hair, which in the current frame, looked more brownish-gray than black. Her whole demeanor had a distinct corpse-like quality to it. Cheeks, sunken in. Skin, a zombified white.

  A nurse who had just gotten off her shift—Patricia—ran to her, gasped, then appeared to ask a string of frantic questions. Val—the one on the screen, the one capable of speech—mumbled something back, then clutched her stomach. Patricia quickly ushered her down the hall in the direction of the E.R.

  Some more clicking occurred, and another window popped up. This one showed Val sprinting out the main doors of the Emergency Room.

  The clip ended. Still, Val couldn’t tear her eyes from the screen. That wasn’t her, was it? She ran through every possible instance her brain would render, but she couldn’t remember any of that having occurred.

  Without warning, the dim light of the room exploded into a blinding sheer. The computer hum followed suit and now roared like a ravaging dragon. Val clenched her eyes tighter and covered her ears in an attempt to will the attack away.

  “Miss Stephens!”

  A hand on her shoulder. Air flooded her lungs again and she opened her eyes. A concerned Detective Ericson was helping her into the nearest chair.

  “I- I’m sorry, I don’t know what—”

  “It’s perfectly fine.” Detective Omar kneeled beside her and smiled. Val could tell he was trying to read for some clue or recognition, but she only shuddered and turned away. “I- I don’t know what that was.”

  “So, you have no recollection of that morning at all?”

  She shook her head. “I remember the library. I remember being at home. Then I- I went to the park…” Tears welled, and she violently shook her head again.

  Omar bit his lip and turned to his partner.

  Val caught the gesture. “What is it?”

  “We understand this question may sound redundant,” he began. He chose his words carefully. “You had no previous relationship with the man who caused the incident earlier, did you?”

  Val stared at each of the detectives, then blinked. “No. Why?”

  “Nothing certain,” Ericson answered. “Your supervisor, Patricia, simply mentioned seeing a man of similar build with a near-identical red jacket walking away from the glass door you entered from. None of the security cameras caught him, but it’s definitely worth looking into.”

  “But he didn’t even talk to me!” Val adamantly stomped her foot, but immediately felt childish. She cringed at the detectives’ patronizing nods. “He was in so much pain he could barely focus,” she said at lower volume. “Even when he threatened us, it was because he thought we were ignoring to treat him.”

  Detective Omar cleared his throat, then glanced at Ericson. With a nod, they both turned back to Val.

  “If it's alright with you, Miss Stephens, I think some tests should be run.”

  Val paled. MRI. CAT. All the steps of the rape kit tests that’d soon have to follow. Or did they come before? Everything was swirling together.

  How had this even happened? She played the footage back in her head for the fourth time, but still came up blank.

  “Wait.” The soft murmur snapped her attention back to Ericson. He was scratching his chin in deep thought. “No, no, I don’t think tests will be needed.”

  “You’re right.” Incredulous, Val looked to Omar. Like Ericson, he was musing over some unseen material. His eyes looked glazed over and she questioned if they’d been drugged in the brief lapse she’d been distracted.

  “Stuff like this happens all the time,” he continued. “Yeah, nothing to worry about, Miss Stephens.”

  Val opened her mouth to object, just as a wave of drowsiness washed over her. Rubbing her eyes, she blinked, then fought to process her surroundings. What were they doing? Patricia had said something about missing security footage.

  “I’m sorry, detectives. What timestamps did you want to see again?”

  Val sleepily glanced at the tech who was scrolling through hundreds of thumbnails.

  Detective Ericson gave a dismissive wave. “Don’t worry about it. Isn’t that right, Miss Stephens?”

  “Yeah… It’s nothing.” But even as she said it, she was struggling to remember what the it was. Nothing came. She was exhausted. Her dad was definitely right, she was overstressing herself. The drama in the E.R. yesterday, then staying up on the phone, then driving in high traffic had to be what did her in.

  “Is it okay if I take off, detectives?” They both turned, seeming to have forgotten she was there.

  “I think that’s perfectly fine,” Detective Ericson said. Omar nodded. With an awkward half-wave, Val moved to pick up her bag. She was stopped by something darting under the desk and into the ensuing shadows. Another look, however, revealed only the tech’s tapping feet. With another exhausted shrug, she grabbed her bag and exited the room.

  As she walked down the hallway, a monstrous roar echoed from her stomach. Strange. She checked her phone. It had only been thirty minutes since she’d last eaten.

  Her stomach growled again, and she returned her phone to her pocket. Sending a mental order for silence, she picked up the pace back to the parking lot. She’d eat later. For now—

  A yawn cut her off. The spell of fatigue that’d come over her now urged for rest. A quick nap then she’d go by Jason’s. His plane was arriving in an hour or so. Wait— the landing had been

  pushed up.

  Quickly typing the number and hitting call, Val impatiently waited for him to pick up.

  “Itttt’s Jason.”

  Val rolled her eyes. “I told you to stop answering like that.”

  “It’s charming—” He grunted like he’d bumped into something, then laughed. “It’s great to hear your voice. I’m about to grab my bags and it’s already a bit hectic. Can we talk when you get here tonight?”

  “Yeah, no problem. Just wanted to make sure you got in okay. Oh, do I still need to pick up Fiona?”

  “Nah, she’s going to stay at Brett’s another night.”

  Val smiled. She loved the little Pomeranian, but Fiona had a te
ndency to kill the mood at the worst moments. “Perfect. See you tonight!”

  “See you then!”

  Five hours. She just had to make it five hours and—

  Another growl. Maybe… She looked at her phone again and frowned. She still had tuna salad in the fridge. A quick snack, then nap. Then Jason.

  An inhuman moan escaped from Val’s throat. Wiping the sleep from her eyes, she blinked, struggling to take in her surroundings. It was dark, but the bathroom light down the hall cast a shadow over the familiar dresser, nightstand, and pile of clothes by the door.

  Climbing out of bed, Val hit the lights before standing in front of the mirror. Her hair was a tangled mess and deep lines were creased into her face from the sheets. Delicately, she reached behind her head and found where the gauze met. She didn’t have to change it for another day, but it was already crooked, and the front had folded in on itself. Whatever mattress acrobatics her unconscious self did while asleep had struck again. Her mother had always said that she slept like a rock but rolled around like a girl on fire.

  Val braced herself for the sting of air hitting the cut then quickly undid the bandage. A puzzled frown crossed her face, and she leaned closer to the reflection. Not only was there no pain, but the cut was gone.

  She ran her fingers along the smooth surface. Not even a scar. Picking the gauze up, there was a drop of scarlet where it had been pressed against her forehead, but nowhere near the amount that should have been bled.

  With a shrug, she dropped the gauze again and stepped out into the kitchen. Spotting the remains of the sandwich that’d been started earlier, her stomach roared back to life.

  She took a step towards the plate then doubled over as sharp pain stabbed her sides.

  Blood.

  Dark red stains on a dirt path flashed, then vanished as she hit the ground.

  Blood.

  It was night. Long scratches covered her arms and she was running. There was something else, a sound—

  A crash of glass sent her back to the kitchen. To her left, the coffee pot now lay in tiny shards. Realizing she’d tugged the power chord on the fall, Val carefully pulled herself to her feet.